Out of the Crucible

by Marian Wells

  Daniel climbed on the packhorse and led the way. The cook snarled, “Preacher, huh? Jailbird. You had us fooled. What did they get you for?”

  There was silence from Wood, but later, when they camped for the night and Daniel was placed under guard, he saw the speculative look the man turned on him.

  Daniel aimed a broad grin back at Wood as the guard tied his wrists together. The guard saw the grin. With a quick glance toward the others, he said, “Lieutenant Dayton, these fellows are friends; maybe—”

  “Keep them under guard,” Dayton said hastily.

  After the mess of beans and bacon, Ellis smirked, saying, “Well, Parson, how about the evening sermon?”

  “Promise you won’t go to sleep on me?” There was a snort of laughter, but some of the men moved closer to Daniel.

  “So you’re a parson.”

  One fellow teased, “Let’s hear you. I wanna know if rebels have a man who can preach worth a pinch of gold dust.”

  Behind the curiosity, Daniel saw the same dark look he had been encountering so often lately. “Be glad to oblige,” he said.

  Hastily the fellow added, “Just as long as you don’t have to have your hands free to wave.”

  Awkwardly Daniel got to his feet and looked around the circle of faces, lighted by the flicker of the fire. Taking a deep breath he quoted, “‘Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of the land: but if ye refuse and rebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.’”

  In the silence the men moved uneasily. Daniel continued, “These words were spoken not to the North or South, but to us all. The dividing line in this life is not locality or politics, but the human will. Not a one of us stands faultless before our Lord. Beating our swords into plowshares will not destroy the conflict within our breasts.

  “Neither President Abe Lincoln nor President Jeff Davis can give us peace. Only at the feet of Jesus Christ do we learn to be the true seekers of peace.

  “Where I come from, men are all seekers of gold—miners and Methodists alike. For some it is the treasure of the earth; for others it is the treasure of the heart. I challenge you to examine your treasure now. Will time and circumstances pare it away? Will it stand the corruption of the grave? The Lord Jesus said, ‘I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich.’”

  Later when Daniel awkwardly lowered himself to his bedroll in the New Mexico dust, he realized not one soldier had dozed beside the fire.

  The next day as they rode into Santa Fe, Daniel began to sense the difference in the town. There was a murmuring current of excitement sweeping through the people on the street. Skirts and mantillas swished, curious dark eyes peeked around water jars, while burros twitched their ears.

  Until they rode into the town plaza, Daniel couldn’t identify the reason. Then he saw the flag cracking in the breeze over the Palace of the Governors. “It’s the Star Spangled Banner!” he exclaimed softly. His guard wrinkled his brow as he looked from the flag to Daniel.

  A uniformed officer standing in the portico moved and Daniel blinked. He was wearing blue. Looking around, it began to sink in. Every uniform he saw was blue. “Tell me,” he urgently addressed the soldier at his side. “Tell me about it.”

  The soldier began to grin. “Canby. Colonel Canby gathered his forces and started pushing. He’s chased Sibley to Albuquerque, and I hear he’s still going.

  “You should have been there. The Rebs and Canby shot it out with cannon. Quite a boom! Quite a mess; those cannon balls were plopping all over the place! It’s going to take a time to repair all that adobe.” He paused and with narrowed eyes he studied Daniel.

  “Man, where’ve you been? You didn’t know! The war is over in New Mexico. Colorado, too. There ain’t no way the Confederacy will get a toehold in the place now.” He paused as the perplexed expression came back. “But how come you’re so glad? I thought—”

  Then he shrugged and turned. “Come on. It’s Fort Marcy and the guardhouse for the likes of you.”

  Daniel protested, “Listen to me first. You’ve got to let me talk to someone—even Lieutenant Dayton.”

  “If it’s so important, why didn’t you say so a couple of days ago?”

  “Because I thought we were walking into rebel territory. I had no idea Santa Fe was free.”

  “It’s just a trick. You and your friends are up to something.”

  “They are. That’s why I need to talk. See, there’s another one and he—” Daniel stopped. Finally he grinned, “Maybe his news isn’t important after all. If the threat to Colorado Territory is over, then I guess I needn’t worry. But say, is Major Chivington in town?”

  “Chivington, of the Colorado Volunteer Army?” The soldier shook his head. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Well, see if you can find out. He knows me.”

  “What good will that do?”

  Daniel took a deep breath and said, “I’m Daniel Gerrett, missionary of the Methodist Episcopal Church, I—” The soldier was grinning.

  When the door closed behind Daniel, he found his prison mates were his trail companions—all except Lucas Tristram.

  He sat down and studied their dismal faces. “What’s happened to Lucas?” They shrugged.

  Wood studied Daniel. “What does it matter to you?”

  “Now it doesn’t,” he said softly. “I just thought you might care.”

  The man shrugged. “Might be the Indians will get him. I reckon not, though. Lucas always seems to land on his feet. He’s probably back in Colorado, hatching up some new scheme to rake in the gold.”

  “You’ve known him for a long time?”

  “We grew up within six miles of each other, down in Mississippi Delta country.” Wood seemed disinclined to talk. He settled his hat low on his forehead and leaned against the cold stone wall.

  At breakfast the following day, Daniel said, “You fellows know we’re apt to be prison mates for some time. How about getting acquainted?”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Ellis said eagerly. “I’ve been curious. Tell us who you really are.”

  “Well, you’ll never believe this,” Daniel said slowly. “But I am a missionary in the Methodist—”

  Wood stopped chewing and Daniel shrugged. Finally the man said, “I can see we’ll never find out. Mind telling us where you’re from?”

  Daniel sighed. “Colorado. Oro City.”

  The man shook his head and then added, “I suppose I’ll not have anything to lose if I introduce myself. I’m Colonel Jeremy Wood, most recently from Texas.”

  “I thought you were an officer,” Daniel muttered.

  Wood replied, “I guess my powers of observation aren’t as acute—” He shrugged.

  Ellis said, “I’m from Georgia, but I’ve been living in Texas since ’57. Got so’s we couldn’t make a living in Georgia, so we homesteaded in Texas.”

  “Why couldn’t you make a living there?” Daniel asked. He saw the quick glance the man threw at Wood.

  There was a flicker of contempt in Wood’s eyes as he said, “Cotton. Most of the poor whites were being bought out. Ellis was one of them.”

  Ellis continued. “Texas isn’t like home, but the womenfolk are working hard at helping out.”

  “I’m surprised you’re fighting to—”

  “Support the way of life that ruined him? Slavery,” Wood said. “You forget we’re fighting for our freedom, not—”

  “But that’s part of it,” Daniel said softly. “At least that’s the story we get. You want your freedom to push slavery. Man, can’t you see it yet? Slavery will never make it as long as there is a Christian in the States.”

  Wood snapped, “That is a bigotry if I’ve ever heard it!” He took a breath and went on. “Has it occurred to you that we have churches and Ch
ristians in the South? Also, we care about our people. We take good care of them. There’s medical aid, and schools. There’s—”

  “Everything but freedom.”

  “One of these days we’ll be able to convince you that these people don’t want freedom; they want someone to take care of the them—”

  “You’ll have a hard time convincing me of that,” Daniel snorted.

  “One of these days,” Wood said softly, “you’ll have no recourse but to accept what we’ve known all along.”

  “And that is?”

  “With all these black people here, there’s nothing that’s going to work except the shelter and help they have now.”

  “Slavery,” Daniel retorted. “Man, I don’t know too much about Negroes, except that God created them, too. They are human, just as I am. Seems they ought to have every right I have, including freedom and the opportunity to live as they wish. Especially in the United States of America.”

  “But not in the Confederate States. We’re the only ones smart enough to know it’s not a gonna work.”

  By morning Daniel was able to put out his hand and say, “Wood, I apologize. Not for my position on slavery, but because the Lord convicted me. I was being a pigheaded judge. I ought to know by now that it is only God who knows the heart. It’s only the judgment day that’ll strip away our faults and prejudices to the place where we can see ourselves the way the Lord does. Meanwhile, God forgive us all for the ugliness we’re inflicting on each other.”

  Ellis spoke up. “At least the Union’s feeding their prisoners a sight better. Back in Texas—” He paused as Wood got to his feet and paced the narrow room.

  The following week Ellis and Wood were led out of prison. The guard told Daniel it was prisoner exchange. Daniel watched them go and felt the heaviness settle around his heart, thinking of Matthew, wondering where he was. In addition he recalled that last glimpse of those men’s eyes. There was nothing in their expression to indicate they were happy with their lot.

  Finally Daniel settled back against the cold stone wall and muttered, “Well, with all this peace and quiet, I’ll have plenty of time for prayer.” Again he found himself wondering about Matthew. That same troubled expression had been in Matthew’s eyes. Were these men beginning to have doubts about the war?

  And Crystal—had he done right by not telling Matthew about Crystal? What were those final words she had said to him? He frowned, shook his head and then went to lean against the bars shutting him away from sun and freedom.

  Chapter 19

  Amy paced the floor for most of that first night. She tried to tell herself it was no different than being in Oro City. “Alone is alone,” she murmured, looking out at the dawn. But deep inside she knew it was different. There was a feeling of finality to it all. At the moment she watched Daniel stride leisurely around the end of the log enclosure, despair dropped on her like a cape she must wear—a dark, dismal gray.

  Two more days passed before Amy could accept what she had been seeing mirrored in the eyes of her father and mother. Each day Amelia had come to urge Amy, “Please, dear, gather your things and move in with us. You mustn’t stay here alone.”

  At first Amy had turned away from her mother, but on this day, she faced her with a new concern. “Mother, what was that noise just before dawn?”

  “The cavalry moving out. Eli and I were up to watch them—all dressed in their uniforms and fully armed. Does that tell you something?”

  Slowly she spoke. “The Army. Something bad has happened. If Daniel were coming back, he would be here by now.” Her lips were wooden and Amelia reached for her.

  Finally she allowed Amelia to help her gather up their belongings to carry down to her cabin. Slowly folding Daniel’s shirt, and thinking that he didn’t even have a blanket, Amy gave in to tears. Amelia put down her load and came to Amy. Amelia lifted Amy’s face, and with her palms she wiped the tears from her face, saying, “Daughter, you’ve been strong before, you must be again. Don’t give up hope until—it is necessary.”

  Amy crumbled against her shoulder. When she finally raised her face and scrubbed at her eyes, she managed a smile. “I’ll try to be confident, Mother. How thankful I am that you’re here!”

  “Now let’s have some breakfast and then go to the sewing circle over at Trina Dayton’s place.”

  Eli turned as they walked through the door. He was leaning on the crutches, and Amy guessed he had been hobbling around the cabin. There was a white line of pain around his mouth and Amy saw the expression in his eyes. She stopped in the doorway, wondering about that expression.

  Is it possible Father cares more deeply than I’ve guessed? It’s also possible they have news.

  She winced. Hastily Amelia said, “There’s been no word; I just can’t have her over there alone. What trouble that young rebel caused when he violated Daniel’s friendship and ran away!” she said as she went to put on her apron.

  Eli nodded his head in agreement as he hopped across the room and patted her hair. “Maybe you’d better be thinking about moving out with us next week. There’re several wagons headed for Colorado, and we’ve been offered room.”

  “I wondered why you were working so hard with those crutches.” Amy turned away, adding, “I suppose if Daniel isn’t back I’d better go. That’s what he wants me to do, only it’s so—” She gulped and took a deep breath. It was impossible to say the word final.

  Eli shook his head, saying, “Well, with all the activity—the Army moving out and the prisoners being traded, it doesn’t appear to be a good idea to hang around much longer. Who knows what’ll happen?”

  After breakfast Amy and Amelia gathered up their mending and walked across the parade grounds to the line of officers’ quarters. A distraught Trina met them at the door. Two crying toddlers clung to her skirt. Amelia handed the sewing to Amy and scooped up the nearest child.

  Trina rubbed at her brow. “I’m sorry. It always affects me this way when the men ride out. I can’t forget the bad times.

  “Even before all this started, it was bad. One day last summer a fellow rode in with news that the settlers up the Santa Fe Trail were being harassed, so the men all rode out. A bright shiny day like this. I still thank God that my husband’s horse threw a shoe. Of course he had to stop to take care of it. By the time he caught up with the men, it was all over.”

  Trina’s words threw a clear picture in front of Amy. The sunshine, the plunging horses, and the hills erupting with shouts and dust as the Indians swooped down upon them. A bright summer day, while some women were forever plunged into winter. Winter of the heart, thought Amy. A gray, dismal cape to wear forever.

  Half the morning had disappeared behind the murmured conversation before Amy asked the question. “Do you know why the men were called out this morning?”

  Trina looked surprised. “Don’t you know! Canby’s men have the Confederates in retreat. They are running and our men are chasing.”

  “But that’s good!” Amy exclaimed, sitting up straight and pushing her fingers into the corners of her eyes to stem the tears that threatened. “There won’t be any more fighting.”

  Amelia spoke gently. “Not here—but Amy, the war isn’t over. This is just one little battle.”

  Now Amy’s voice was dull as she voiced her fear. “And other women will keep on facing this. Back there. War—why can’t we get along with each other?”

  Trina cuddled her little girl against her shoulder. Her face was sad, remote, as she slowly said, “That isn’t all. There’s other parts of war that are bad. It tears at the hearts and minds of people. In ’61, just before the war started, this place was torture. People were being torn apart by all the conflicting views.

  “It’s bad to have to decide against everything you’ve been taught to believe is right. We saw that here. People were going south, leaving the Union and the Army, because of the pull between family and home.”

  Amelia added, “But there was conflict. How it must have torn the f
amilies apart.”

  Trina nodded. “We tried to be polite and continue to be friends. But it sure does tear a person apart inside, knowing that some of our dearest friends will soon be fighting against us.”

  From across the room the quiet little woman spoke. “Sometimes it isn’t easy to do what you really want to do, deep down.” For a moment sadness pulled at her mouth; then with a sigh she straightened and smiled and continued briskly.

  “For months the only topic discussed was the right and wrong of it all. North and South. It ruined even the most joyous of occasions. Finally, when war was announced, there was a rip right down the middle of us. It’s one thing to talk, but it’s another thing to be faced with the fact of war.

  “Now we were friend and enemy. The feeling was there, even among dearest of friends. It became impossible to speak your heart. See, this wasn’t all because of politics. It was blood loyalties that swayed the men and their families. I tell you, there were some sad partings as men packed up and went south to fight a war they didn’t endorse, simply because family was in the South. It was in their blood, to believe family was more important than anything else.”

  There was silence in the room. Amy saw that Amelia was bent nearly double over her sewing. Her voice was muffled when she finally spoke. “I daresay not a one in this whole nation hasn’t been touched in much the same way. Men fighting when they don’t want to fight. Men and women ripped apart because of all the ugliness. Some not even understanding why. I’ve seen it happen, and how I wish I could have prevented it! At times I wonder if we will ever again be whole.”

  “But it hasn’t been going on all that long!” Amy exclaimed, bewildered by the pain in her mother’s voice.

  Amelia looked at her. “It has been going on for a long time. Too long. Since the beginning, when the first Negro was brought into this country in chains and that first white man looked the other direction, the trouble began. We can’t turn away from things like this and still continue to be whole people.”