Beyond the Quiet Hills

by Aaron McCarver

  Jacob moved over toward the refreshment table where several of his friends were talking in an animated fashion. Tom Denton, a tall young man of sixteen with reddish blond hair and blue-green eyes, said, “Come and help me with these barbarians, Jake. You’re practically a man now at the ripe old age of sixteen.”

  A laugh went around from the young men, and Jacob grinned and shook his head. “I guess I’ll hold off on that for a little while. What do you need help with?”

  Tom Denton’s eyes flashed. “I’ve been instructing these fellows in the meaning of the Boston Massacre.”

  “But that happened a year ago, Tom.”

  “Doesn’t make any difference. England hasn’t forgotten it. She won’t, either. Mark my words.”

  Stephen Posten, a short, chubby young man of seventeen, shook his head. “England’s too busy with her empire to fool with a little thing like a few rebellious colonists.”

  “Don’t you believe it, Steve!” Tom exclaimed. “England never forgets anything. Why, she sent soldiers all the way to India to protect her possessions there. She’s not about to lose the Colonies over here.”

  Posten came from a middle-class family. His father was owner of a small business that made shoes. “It’ll pass away. Wait and see.”

  But Tom Denton was not a young man to be denied his strong opinions. His family was not only wealthy but strongly Tory and loyal to King George. When the Boston Massacre had taken place and the colonists had risen in arms, it had been Tom who had persuaded Jacob that the colonists themselves had been responsible for the so-called massacre. “I’ve been in Boston,” he had said, “and you ought to see how the citizens treat His Majesty’s soldiers! They throw stones at them and curse them and throw rocks at them in the street! They need to be taught a lesson!”

  Jacob listened as the sprightly argument went on, but he said nothing. He was aware that his grandfather was not a Tory and had said on more than one occasion that this country will have to decide one day whether it will rule itself or will be ruled by a German king sitting on an English throne thousands of miles away.

  Suddenly Thomas reached over and poked Jacob in the chest sharply. “I think you’re wanted, old boy,” he said, a broad grin creasing his face. He gestured with his head and Jacob turned. He saw Annabelle Denton standing there and at once grew more alert. Annabelle was the prettiest girl in Williamsburg and highly sought after by the young men, although she was not yet sixteen. Still, several young men had made it clear that they had set their sights on her for matrimonial purposes. Some of them simply wanted to align themselves with a wealthy family, but Annabelle was a beauty, and now as Jacob moved away from the young men, he took in her large clear blue eyes, the strawberry blond hair, and the trim figure. She was wearing a light rose-colored dress made of the finest silk trimmed with delicate white lace. The neckline was square, the sleeves loose and ending at the wrists in a dainty lace ruffle, and the snug bodice had small white ribbon bows accenting the front down to the waist. The overskirt was plain, worn over large hoops, and edged with lace, and the petticoat was made of white silk with small roses embroidered on it. She approached Jacob, smiling provocatively.

  “I was wondering if you’d come and dance with me, Jacob.”

  The music was just beginning, and Jacob said, “I wouldn’t miss it. As you know, though, I’m not the best dancer in the world.”

  “You will be after I get through teaching you. Come along, now.”

  Annabelle was an excellent dancer. She had given Jacob several lessons, and as the two moved across the floor, she nodded, saying, “You’re doing much better, and don’t you look handsome in your new suit!”

  “I feel a little odd in it.”

  “Why should you feel odd? It’s a beautiful suit. Your grandfather had it made at my father’s tailor’s shop.”

  The suit was made of a fine brown wool with the overcoat coming to his knees. The overcoat was worn open to reveal a waistcoat of the same material edged with a dark brown brocade, and a white linen shirt with ruffles down the front peeked out at the neck and at the wrists. Snug-fitting breeches came to below the knees and were held in place with gold buttons, and white silk stockings covered the lower part of his legs. Jacob was pleased that she liked it. As they danced, he was well aware that from time to time, Annabelle would press herself against him in a most alluring way. With any other young woman he would have known what to think of that, but he had long ago decided that this girl was willful and that she would do as she pleased. She was witty and talented, and Jacob was hopelessly in love with her. At times he would sink into bleak despair when she would provoke him by her flirtatious ways with other men, but he always came back when her coy attentions turned to him again.

  “What are you thinking about, Jacob?”

  “The next fifty years.”

  His rather sober answer caught Annabelle off guard. She suddenly laughed aloud and said, “Why, you can’t think that far ahead!”

  “It’ll be here quicker than you think, Annabelle.”

  “Why are you so gloomy today? This is your birthday. Cheer up!”

  “Annabelle, I think it’s too early to think of it, but someday I’m going to ask you to marry me.” He saw her eyes open wide and immediately urged, “When I get a plantation started, I’ll need a wife. What would you say if I asked you to marry me?”

  Annabelle smiled, her perfect white teeth showing beneath soft reddish lips. “Why, I don’t know who else I would marry, Jake.”

  A thrill ran through Jacob Spencer, and he had the wild impulse to hold her close and kiss her. But she saw his expression and said, “Now, don’t you hug me! You’re holding me too tight!”

  “One of these days I’ll come see you, Annabelle, when I have something to offer you.”

  “Don’t you go telling anyone what you just said, Jacob.” She stepped close to him, and he felt the contours of her firm young body, and his face grew warm.

  “I won’t tell,” he said.

  “It’ll just be between the two of us,” she said. “Now, let’s go get some punch. . . .”

  ****

  James was sitting before the crackling fire in the large fireplace, soaking up the heat. He rose and poked the logs until they shifted with a hissing sound, sending myriads of sparks whirling up the chimney. Selecting another chunk of firewood, he placed it carefully on the fire and stood watching it for a minute. “There’s an art to making a fire, Esther.”

  “I know. You always think of it as other men would think of a painting or writing a piece of music.” Esther smiled and said, “But on these cold days, fires are better than paintings, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they are.” James straightened up, stretched, and arched backward, groaning, “I think I’ve got rheumatism or something.”

  “I hope not.” Esther watched as he moved back and sat down. She was knitting, for she always had to be busy doing something. Now as the fire crackled and a wind swept the house, she said, “What do you think of Jacob and Annabelle?”

  “I don’t like it one bit.”

  Surprised at the brevity of her husband’s reply, Esther looked up. Their eyes met, and she seemed to know his thoughts. It was that way with these two. They had lived together so long that many times they did not even have to speak to know what the other thought. “I know what you mean. She’s a beautiful girl, and very clever, but . . .” Words failed her and she suddenly put her needles down in her lap. A troubled light came to her eyes. “The Dentons are not our kind of people, are they, James?”

  “No. They’re not. In the first place, they’re Tory to the bone! If a war comes with England, they’ll stand with the Crown, and I’d like to think that Jacob wouldn’t do that just because he married into a wealthy Tory family.”

  “You don’t really think a war will come, do you?”

  “England’s been unfair to the Colonies. If the prime minister could only see that America is the biggest prize England has! Far more valuable than In
dia or any of the other possessions.” His eyes grew warm, and he shook his head in disgust. “They try to rule us from thousands of miles across the sea and tax us without our consent. There’s only one end to that, I’m afraid.”

  The two sat there quietly for a while, then Esther said, “The Dentons aren’t godly people. They go to church on rare occasions, but it’s just for the sake of appearance.”

  “I thought the same thing myself. And that girl, Annabelle—of all the flirts I ever saw, I think she’s the worst! Only fifteen, and who knows what she’ll be by the time she’s twenty.”

  “She’ll be married long before then, James.”

  “Jacob could get hurt. At the age of sixteen,” James said, “it doesn’t take much to hurt a young man.” He started to speak, but Ellen, the maid, entered the room. “What is it, Ellen?”

  “Someone is here to see you, sir.”

  “To see us? Who could it be at this time of the day?”

  “You’re supposed to go to the library,” Ellen said. She had a half smile on her face, and Esther was puzzled by her behavior.

  “Well, come, Esther,” James said. “Let’s go find out who this mysterious visitor is.”

  The two moved out of the parlor and down the wide hall. When they turned into the library, Esther gave a short cry and her hands flew to her lips. “Josh!” she cried and rushed over to throw herself into the arms of the tall man who was grinning broadly.

  James moved forward, a smile on his face. He shook hands first with the Indian who stood watching him. “Hello, Sequatchie. It’s been a long time.”

  “It has been a long time. I’m glad to see you, Mr. Spencer.”

  “If you can turn loose of my son, I’d like to at least shake hands with him,” James said. Hawk did not release his mother but stuck out a tanned, muscular hand that gripped his father’s hand hard.

  “It’s good to see you, sir,” he said. “Very good.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”

  “You know the post. It’s easier to come yourself than trust.”

  Josh looked down at his mother, and something moved in his face. “My favorite story in the Bible has always been the story of the Prodigal Son, Mother. And now I guess the prodigal has really come home.”

  Esther gasped and looked up. Her face turned pale and she reached up and touched Hawk’s cheek. “Josh,” she whispered, “you mean . . . ?”

  “That’s right. I went pretty far down, but I’ve returned to following the Lord now. I’ve accepted Jesus Christ as the Lord in my life.”

  “Praise be to God! My prayers have been answered,” Esther cried out as James reached over to give his son a strong hug.

  Sequatchie stood to one side, watching the joy of these two older people. James turned to him and said, “I assume you had something to do with this, Sequatchie.”

  “Jesus draws men to Him,” Sequatchie said quietly. “But I have been praying a long time to see Hawk come back to God.”

  “Where is Jacob?” Hawk asked, and an anxiety came into his voice.

  “I’ll get him. He’s up in his room,” James said. He quickly left the room and went up the stairs and knocked on Jacob’s door. “Jacob, come quickly.”

  The door opened almost at once and Jacob looked rather startled. “What is it, Grandpa?”

  “It’s your father. He’s downstairs.” He saw a strange look cross Jacob’s face and wanted to say more, but he knew that he could not force this tall young man to accept the father he had never known. “Come along, son. He’ll be glad to see you,” he said gently.

  Jacob followed his grandfather downstairs, his mind spinning. When he walked into the room and saw his father, he stopped dead still.

  Hawk moved forward and said, “Hello, son. Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you,” Jacob said rather stiffly and took the hand his father put toward him. An awkward silence fell over the room, and Hawk said, “It’s not good manners to just drop in like this, but we had a purpose. You remember Paul Anderson?”

  “Of course!” James exclaimed. “Is he with you?”

  “He’s here in Williamsburg, but he’s come to be married.”

  “Who is he marrying?” Esther said.

  “You remember Rhoda Harper. She’s recently become a Christian, and I had to bring them all the way in because there was no preacher to marry them out in Watauga. Besides, Paul wanted to be married in his parents’ home.”

  Jacob stood listening as his father spoke, his eyes fixed on his face. A turmoil of conflicting emotions grew in him and tore at his heart. For years he had longed for a father, but this was eclipsed now by the bitterness that arose when he thought of all the lonely years that his father had left him, even though he was with his grandparents.

  Sensing that Jacob was uncomfortable, Hawk said quickly, “We’ll have plenty of time to talk, son. I’d like to tell you about Watauga.”

  “Very well, sir. That will be fine.”

  “You can stay in the big room with the two windows, Josh,” Esther said. “And you’ll stay, too, Sequatchie.”

  “If that would be all right.”

  Sequatchie had sensed the difficult situation he had stepped into. In his mind Hawk had made a terrible mistake leaving his son to be reared by others, but now that he knew God, Sequatchie was hopeful that things would be better. As the two men ascended the stairs, he said, “Your son has become a man.” He got no answer but saw a troubled look on Hawk’s face and knew that things were not well with his friend.

  ****

  “It’s a new country over the mountains, Father,” he said. “Nothing at all like you have here.”

  “It’s very primitive, isn’t it?” James asked, leaning forward. They were sitting in the smaller parlor where they had come after a lavish dinner that Esther had prepared. Now they were drinking tea, and Hawk was speaking of the events of the past year. He had told them of his struggles and how he had come to know the Lord, and Esther had not been able to keep the tears back. Finally James said, “I wish you could know Elizabeth and her children. She’s such a fine woman.”

  At the mention of her son’s new wife, Esther shot a glance at Jacob. He seemed paler than usual, and he had spoken very little. At the mention of Hawk’s family, she thought she saw a somber flicker in his eyes and wondered what it meant.

  As they talked, Sequatchie sat and observed, saying almost nothing. He had seen the happiness in James and Esther Spencer as Hawk told them of how God had healed his bitter and broken heart, but he was mostly concerned with the young man, for he was an astute student of human nature. He’s unhappy, he thought to himself. He doesn’t like the idea of his father being married—which is strange considering that it will mean more of a family to him.

  Finally the conversation turned to the Spencers, and once again they were thrilled as Hawk told them how Rhoda had been converted and how she had grown in the Lord so rapidly.

  “I hope Paul and Rhoda will come to see us while they’re here, son,” Esther said.

  “Oh, I’m sure they will. Paul thinks the world of you two, and of you, too, Jacob.”

  Jacob started slightly. He remembered Paul Anderson well, and when he saw a reply was expected, he said, “I’d like to see him again.”

  Hawk was feeling as uncomfortable as he ever had in his life. He had tried to think of some way to express what he felt to Jacob, but everything he wanted to say sounded awkward and artificial. Now he cleared his throat and said tentatively, “I’ve been hoping, Jacob, now that I’ve got my life right with God and have a home, that you’d come and live with us.”

  “Live with you?” Amazement and shock ran across Jacob’s face.

  “Well, with me and Elizabeth. You’ll like her very much—and her children. Andrew is two years younger than you, but I’m very proud of him. He’s learned how to handle a rifle like a grown man. Brought down a ten-point buck just a few weeks ago.” Pride filled Hawk’s voice, and he did not see the lips of the you
ng man tighten.

  Sequatchie saw it, however, and shook his head slightly, thinking, He should not be boasting about his stepson. It is not wise.

  James and Esther were staring at Hawk. It was something they had never thought of, but now James said, “It would be very good, Jacob, for you to spend some time with your father.”

  But Jacob was staring at his father. Up until this moment he had kept his temper, but now he said coldly, “You left me here sixteen years ago, and now you come here unannounced and say, ‘Come live with me,’ and expect everything to be fine. I’ve got a life here with my grandparents, after I was abandoned by a father who obviously didn’t care one bean about me.” He saw his words strike against his father’s face and took a perverse pleasure in hurting him. And then he did something that he regretted the moment he said it. “Besides, I’m thinking of getting married.”

  “Married?” Hawk said, his eyes opening wide with surprise. “But you’re only sixteen.”

  “I don’t mean right now, but I’m in love with a young woman named Annabelle Denton.” In his anger he forgot his promise to Annabelle to say nothing about marriage. Curtly he ended by saying, “You’re not really my father. I think you should go back to the frontier with your other family, especially the son you’re so proud of. Forget about me, because I’m going to try to forget about you!” He whirled and left the room, and they heard the front door slam.