Under the Tulip Poplar

by Diane Ashley

  She twisted away and moved back into the hall, her heart breaking as his words and tone showed how little he valued her feelings. Didn’t he realize how long she had agonized over this? “It may be preposterous to you, but you asked what I want, and I have told you.”

  “I should have known this would happen.” Asher’s mouth became a straight slash and his eyes hardened. “You are becoming quite adept at manipulating people.”

  Rebekah’s head jerked as if he had slapped her. She doubted she could have been hurt more by a physical blow. “I think you should go now, Captain Landon.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  His emphasis on the word made her cringe, but she didn’t try to defend herself.

  Asher pulled a pair of snowy white gloves from the belt of his uniform and jammed his fingers into them. “Don’t think this scheme of yours has me fooled. I love you, Rebekah, and I want to marry you. But I have too much respect for you to rush into a marriage when I don’t know if I can support you.”

  He left her standing at the parlor door, her heart lying in pieces around her fancy shoes. She lifted a hand as if to stop him but let it fall to her side. What more could she say?

  ❧

  Asher stalked away from Rebekah, wondering if he shouldn’t leave Mrs. Quinn’s home right away. But his parents would be disappointed if he did not make at least a brief appearance. A pang of remorse pierced his anger as he thought of the scene with his pa earlier. He needed to put the argument with Rebekah aside for right now.

  Pa had taken the news of his decision to work with Colonel Lewis hard. Asher did not like hurting his pa, but this was his life, and he had to make his own way to success. Everything he’d dreamed of was within his grasp. Well, almost everything.

  Asher stopped for a moment and concentrated on taking deep breaths. He would not allow Rebekah’s immaturity to spoil his evening. When had she become so. . .he searched for the right word. . .so backward? Why had she set her heart on living way out in the wilderness? He might understand her feelings if she had not been living in Nashville for more than a year. But she had experienced the luxuries of town life. It made no sense to shun progress.

  She must know how much he liked the hustle and bustle of city life. Years ago, he and his family had left behind the dull and thankless world of farming. He was no longer the type to break his back to provide the bare necessities for his wife and children. There were so many more opportunities here for a man to make his mark on the world. Why couldn’t Rebekah see that?

  He pulled his gloves off and tucked them into his belt. Nobody was going to stop him from succeeding.

  He stepped into the ballroom and looked around. The orchestra was playing, and several couples were swaying in the center of the room while other guests lined the walls, spreading the latest gossip and showing off their fancy clothes.

  He spotted Alexandra across the room. Her warm smile was like a balm to his lacerated heart. He eased his way through the crowd. Why couldn’t Rebekah be more like her, pleasant and welcoming? Alexandra didn’t seem to think he was deficient in some ridiculous way. She accepted him for the man he was.

  “Bonju, Captain.” She pulled out her fan and fluttered it in front of her face. “Congratulations! Papa told me of your new position.”

  Asher bowed. “I am flattered to be selected.”

  “You need not feel flattered, Captain. Papa is lucky to be able to rely on your strength and intelligence. The general keeps him so busy he barely has time to eat a meal with his family.”

  A hand fell on his shoulder, and Asher turned to see Colonel Lewis. “Sir, we were just talking about you.”

  The man looked from Asher to his daughter, his bushy eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “In my day, there were other topics more interesting for a young couple to discuss than work and parents.”

  Alexandra’s cheeks brightened to the hue of a summer sunrise. “Papa!”

  Even though the colonel had made several comments during their journey from New Orleans about a suitable match for his daughter, Asher had always brushed aside his rather clumsy hints.

  But tonight was different. Tonight he was seeing things with greater clarity. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he told Alexandra. “If I had as pretty a daughter as you, I would be equally surprised.”

  She tapped his arm with the end of her fan. “You are quite a smooth talker, sir.”

  “It is nothing but the truth, Miss Lewis.” He bowed slightly. “May I have this dance?”

  “That’s more like it.” Colonel Lewis beamed at them. “Don’t let one of these other Nashville beaus turn her head. I happen to know that Alexandra thinks you are quite the dashing war hero.”

  Asher drew her onto the dance floor before the colonel could embarrass them further.

  She curtsied, her gaze on the floor.

  Asher took her hand as they followed the dance steps. “Don’t worry. Parents have a decided talent when it comes to discomfiting their children.” He nodded his head toward his own parents who were watching them circle the dance floor. “They are probably talking about us right now.”

  She glanced toward them and then at him. “What do you think they’re saying?”

  “What else but that I am the luckiest man here to have such a beautiful young lady as my dance partner?”

  Alexandra’s smile rewarded him. “Thank you for your sweet compliments. Since we arrived in Nashville, not everyone has been so welcoming.”

  Now this was more like it. More like what he had expected the evening to hold. Pleasant company and gentle flirting rather than accusations and manipulative ultimatums. “The young ladies are probably jealous to have such a sophisticated newcomer competing for the attention of our local men.”

  Her hand squeezed his. “Me. . .sophisticated? But I was raised on a plantation. Surely the ladies here have the advantage since they have grown up in the center of Nashville. I am very much the outsider.”

  Asher looked to the doorway in time to see Rebekah entering. Good. Let her see exactly how much it would affect him if she left Nashville. He returned his attention to his dance partner. “But you have something none of them have.”

  “What is that?”

  “You have an air of mystery and intrigue. None of the local gents knew you before you attained the full flower of your beauty.” He nodded at a tall, graceful blond dancing a few yards away. “You would never think it to look at her tonight, but I remember when Dorcas Montgomery was as thin as a sapling and more clumsy than a newborn colt.”

  Alexandra was so easy to talk to, and he had only to look at her expression to realize that she did seem to admire him. He ignored the whispery voice of his conscience. Alexandra was only being friendly, and there was nothing wrong with letting her kindness soothe his bruised heart.

  Twelve

  “Watch out for that rut.” Una Miller, perched next to her husband, pointed toward the road. “I’m sure Rebekah is tired of being bounced around.”

  If she had not been taught better, Rebekah would have voiced her agreement. She was beginning to wish Pastor Miller was driving Pa’s wagon. It was a bit disturbing to be pitched about when they were sitting so high above the ground. But at least she was going home.

  Away from Asher. Away from heartache.

  Yet when she considered a future without him, Rebekah wondered if there would ever be joy in her life again. She only knew she could not stand to watch him dance and flirt with Alexandra.

  Anxious to drive the uncomfortable pictures from her mind, she leaned forward. “Thank you so much for letting me come with you.”

  Pastor Miller’s hands slackened on the reins as he glanced back at her, causing the buggy to increase its speed. “You’ve already thanked us three times.”

  “We’ve been planning this visit for weeks,” his wife added. “Having your company only adds to our pleasure.”

  Rebekah’s stomach clenched as the landscape rushed past them. Would it be rude to ask Pas
tor Miller to slow down a bit? Although she was anxious to reach her parents’ home, she had no wish to risk life and limb in the process. She leaned back to escape the dizzying sensation, but it was no use. Even closing her eyes did no good.

  “I promise Roman is a very competent driver.”

  Her eyelids flew open and a blush heated Rebekah’s cheeks. “I’m sure he is. It’s a bit disconcerting though. We must be covering more than a mile every ten minutes.”

  When the pastor looked back over his shoulder once again, she wanted to beg him to keep his attention fixed on the road. Perhaps she should ask the couple about something that had been bothering her for a while. “Will there be Indians in heaven?”

  Pastor Miller’s hands jerked convulsively on the reins, slowing the buggy considerably. “Of course there will be.”

  Mrs. Miller turned in her seat, and Rebekah saw a hint of tears in her eyes. “We are concerned all the time about those who have had no chance to ask Jesus into their hearts. It’s our hope and prayer that all men will soon heed the words of our Lord and choose everlasting life.”

  Rebekah leaned forward again. “What about those people who don’t believe the Indians can be forgiven?”

  This time, Pastor Miller answered her question. “We are all people in the eyes of God, and we have all sinned and need a Savior. Including me. Whether it’s killing or stealing or even telling a lie about someone.”

  “I know, Pastor. ‘For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’ ”

  “That’s right.” Mrs. Miller’s pink bonnet moved up and down as she nodded. “But don’t forget the next verse in Romans: ‘Being justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.’ The Bible promises that anyone, not just this group or that one, can be saved.”

  “How will the Indians get to know about Jesus?” Rebekah’s fear of the buggy ride began to subside. “Pa and Ma always read to us from the Bible when I was growing up. And we’d get to hear sermons from traveling preachers who stayed over and preached in the little church Pa and some of the other men built. But who preaches to the Indians?”

  “That’s exactly why we want to start a school,” Mrs. Miller answered. “We feel the Lord wants us to share His message with them.”

  Rebekah played with the strings of her bonnet. “Remember when Aunt Dolly told you about the Indians who stopped us on the Natchez Road?”

  She waited for them to nod before continuing. “There was one Indian, a boy really, who made me stop and wonder about what future he had.”

  Pastor Miller tossed a smile at her over his shoulder. “There’s no telling what ramifications your decision to share your food may have had. A light shower falls and, when joined by other rains, becomes a flood that carries everything before it.”

  Rebekah felt another stirring of the excitement that had gripped her the day they met the Indians. A whisper echoed through her mind. Was it a sign? Was she meant to do something about teaching the Indians? But what did she know about such things?

  A movement caught her attention, and Rebekah shaded her eyes, straining to see who it was. Had their conversation brought Indians down on them? The harder she looked, however, the more familiar the figure seemed. She watched him raise an arm up and swing down on what looked like a fence post. His head raised, and she recognized him. “Pa! It’s Pa! Please stop!”

  Pastor Miller pulled up on the reins, and Rebekah scrambled past the Millers, heedless of the great height that had terrified her earlier. She was home!

  “Pa!” she yelled as loudly as she could and had the satisfaction of seeing the man’s head turn toward her. She barely noticed the second figure, who’d been hidden until her pa turned. All she could really see was Pa’s familiar face. She ran across the wide field and was caught up in his arms and swung around like a girl of four instead of the young lady she was supposed to be.

  “My Becka.” He hugged her as tight as a corset bone and kissed her on the cheek before setting her back on her feet. “Aren’t you a sight!”

  His smile was as warm as summer sunshine. It melted the lump she’d been carrying in her chest since the argument with Asher. She was home, and everything was going to be all right.

  “I want you to meet someone very special, Becka.” He turned to the man who had been helping him mend fence posts. This is our new neighbor, Wohali. He owns the land we’re standing on.”

  Her eyes widened as Rebekah took in the stranger’s long, black hair, dark eyes, and swarthy skin. An Indian! This must be the man the Millers had come to meet. But why was Pa working with him? If the ground had opened up underneath her feet, she could not have been more surprised. No matter what else changed in her life, she’d clung to the belief that everything at home would remain the same. How unsettling to find even bigger changes here than in Nashville. “How do you do?”

  The tall man nodded his head. “I am pleased to meet you.”

  Would wonders never cease? Not only was the Indian a landowner, his grammar and diction were impeccable. She realized her mouth had dropped open, and she shut it with an audible pop.

  “Now it’s your turn.” Her pa nodded toward the Millers, who were waiting in their buggy.

  Rebekah, Wohali, and Pa made their way across the field toward the road, and she performed the introductions.

  “Why don’t you go on up to the house with the Millers? Wohali and I will be there in a few minutes. I don’t want to waste a minute of your visit.” Pa turned to the pastor. “I hope you can stay overnight with us so we’ll have more time to hear all about Rebekah’s adventures before she returns to Nashville.”

  “I’m not going back, Pa.” The lump returned, larger than before. She turned away to hide the tears that had sprung to her eyes.

  “I see.” He squeezed her shoulder gently. “We’ll talk about it at home. Your ma and your siblings are going to be thrilled to see you.”

  Rebekah blinked her eyes rapidly to force the tears back. She did not know if she could talk about her feelings. Better to remain silent and stoic. She concentrated on climbing safely into the buggy as her vision blurred.

  ❧

  “Hurry up, Rebekah. We’re going to be late for church.” Eleanor was practically jumping up and down in her impatience.

  “What do you mean? There’s plenty of time to get to the church before the service begins.”

  Ma unpinned her apron and folded it neatly before placing it on the kitchen shelf. “Your sister is right, Rebekah.”

  “What? We’ve never left for church this early.”

  Ma sighed. “Eleanor, go get your brother. Rebekah, sit down. There are a few things we need to discuss.”

  When Eleanor left the cabin, Rebekah looked toward her ma with some apprehension. Was this yet another change? Since coming home last week, she had discovered many things were different than she remembered. Of course, she expected Eleanor and Donny to be more grown up, but so much else had changed. Ma looked older, her brown hair liberally streaked with gray. And Pa, who once prided himself on his independence, was working with Wohali nearly every day.

  Even the crops had changed. Pa still planted corn, but he also had several acres of wheat. Here at home, he and Ma had added an extra bedroom so she and Eleanor would no longer have to sleep in the loft. Although she knew the changes were indications of progress and prosperity, Rebekah would have much preferred that everything stay the same.

  “There have been some who are not happy about Wohali and his family moving into our community.”

  Rebekah nodded. She did not personally mind having Indians for neighbors, but her imagination boggled at the idea of Wohali’s wife joining a quilting bee or exchanging recipes with the ladies in the area.

  “Your pa and I have prayed about the tense situation since they moved here, and we believe we received an answer when Wohali asked whether or not he and Noya—that’s his wife, who has become a dear friend—could attend our church. We decided we would help them get establishe
d by escorting them for the first few Sundays.”

  “Why didn’t he go to the preacher?”

  Ma smiled and patted her hand. “We’ve grown fairly close to Wohali and Noya. I guess they feel more comfortable talking to your pa than some stranger down the road.”

  Someone, probably Pa, had brought in a handful of wildflowers and laid them on a cloth in the center of the table. Rebekah picked one up and twirled it between her fingers. “How did they come to buy their place?”

  “Wohali was educated by a missionary who came to share the gospel with his tribe. He’s a Christian and very eager to be a part of our community. It took a long time, but he and his wife managed to save enough money to buy some land.”

  “They left their tribe?”

  Ma placed a calming hand over Rebekah’s fingers to keep her from destroying the delicate wildflower. “I’m sure it was a difficult choice, but Noya told me they prayed for guidance and were led to move away.”

  The front door swung inward, and Pa stepped inside. “Are my girls ready to get going?”

  “I’ll just be a minute.” Rebekah hurried into the bedroom and rummaged through her bags to find her hairpins before twisting her braid into a knot and quickly pinning it into place. What an amazing story. She was glad God didn’t expect her to leave her home. . .or did He?

  Her hands fell to her sides as a sudden question struck her. All the times she and Asher had planned for their future, it had never occurred to her to pray for God’s guidance. She had prayed for an answer before she broke things off with him last week. But had she prayed for His will, or had she only prayed for her own plans to be fulfilled?

  ❧

  Asher wiped his hands against his dress trousers and watched for the Taylors to arrive in their buckboard. He greeted his former neighbors, many of whom wanted to hear of his exploits with the Tennessee militia. He was well into describing General Jackson’s canny strategies when he realized that none of the men were paying him any attention. They had all turned to look at the latest arrivals.

  Asher turned to see what had caused the commotion, and his eyes nearly jumped from his head. Rebekah and her family were pulling up to the church—with a couple of Indians on their buckboard.