by Diane Ashley
Asher nodded. “Do you have family back there?”
“What business is it of yours, Captain?” The woodcarver’s voice was challenging.
Asher spread his hands. “None whatsoever. My only business with you concerns the Indian, Wohali. You will be here until after the trial is over, right?”
“I don’t know.” The woodcarver dropped his gaze and rubbed a hand on the leg of his pants. The same nervous gesture Asher had noted during his second visit. “I. . .I’ve got me a real hankering to move away.”
“But without your testimony, the murderer might go free.”
The woodcarver shrugged. “I don’t rightly want to go swear as to selling that tomahawk to your Indian.”
Asher’s jaw dropped. “You told me and the colonel that you sold it to Wohali, so why would you be hesitant to testify in court? Unless you were lying. . .”
Another shrug was the only answer.
Asher’s heart banged in his chest. “If you were lying, you must have a real good reason.” A plausible motive occurred to him. “Were you part of the raid that killed that poor family?”
The woodcarver looked at him again, and now Asher could see his fear. “I didn’t kill nobody.”
Asher decided to push him a little. “And why should I believe that? Guilt is usually what makes men run away.”
“You got it all wrong, Captain. I promise you I didn’t kill those folks. I just make the weapons ’cause God give me a talent for it.”
“If you didn’t kill anybody, why would you lie about who bought the tomahawk?”
“I come in here one morning, and it was gone. Somebody stole it.”
Asher blew out a breath of disgust. “Come on and try another tale. But this time, try to make it plausible.”
The man cringed.
“I’m running out of patience.” Asher tapped his foot. “Who bought the tomahawk?”
“If I tell you that, they’ll come back and kill me.”
Asher pointed a finger at the woodcarver. “If you don’t tell me, I am going to drag you to jail and throw you into the cell with Wohali. Then we’ll see what’s what.”
“No.” The man looked back over his shoulder. “Look, I’ll tell you, but you’ve gotta promise that you won’t say anything until I get outta here.”
“I can’t make that promise.” Asher strode forward and grabbed the man’s elbow. “Why don’t we go see Colonel Lewis? Maybe he’ll convince you to tell the truth.”
The woodcarver struggled to break free of Asher’s hold. “No, you can’t take me there. He’ll kill me for sure.”
Asher twisted to block the doorway. “What are you saying? Are you trying to implicate Colonel Lewis? Did you sell him the tomahawk?” His mind reeled. But it made sense. The facts lined up with military precision. The colonel was planning to grab Wohali’s and the Marshalls’ land. Only substantial landowners could hold public office. It didn’t matter whether he lived on the land or not, so long as he held the title.
The woodcarver was sniveling, his misery plain to see. “I didn’t do nothing wrong. You’ve got to believe me. I sold it to him, but I thought he was going to use it for some ceremony, not to kill them folks. And when I found out, it was too late. The colonel came here and told me to say I’d sold it to an Indian. He said them Indians was all guilty on account of they’ve killed lots of white men. And he said he’d pay me big. All I had to do was agree with him—then I could leave Nashville, and everyone would be okay.”
Asher’s whole world changed in that instant. Colonel Lewis, the man in whom he had placed so much faith, was pure evil. He’d been such a fool. Everything he’d thought was right had turned out to be wrong, terribly wrong.
All this time he had refused to listen to his loved ones. They had tried to warn him, but he’d been certain he was right. He’d let his ambitions blind him to the truth. He knew without a doubt that he was nothing more than a flawed sinner. Asher wanted to sink to his knees on the dusty floor and beg for God’s forgiveness. But he didn’t have that choice. He had to stop the colonel before Wohali paid the ultimate price for Asher’s stupidity. He could only ask God to help him until he could really seek peace later. “Come on. We’re going to the sheriff.”
The woodcarver shook his head and tried to get through the doorway, but Asher tackled him. “No you don’t. You’re through running from shadows. It’s time to stand up and be a man.” He hustled the frightened man down the street toward the jail and dragged him inside.
The sheriff looked up when they entered. “Who are you bringing in today, Captain?”
“This man has an interesting story to tell you, Sheriff. I think you and Wohali are going to want to listen.”
He tossed a glance toward the Indian, who was sitting quietly in his cell. The woodcarver faltered at first, but he told his story once again.
When he finished, the sheriff looked at Asher. “Do you believe him?”
Asher lifted his chin toward the broken man. “Look at him. He’s scared to death. Too scared to lie.”
The sheriff nodded. “I agree.” He stood and walked to Wohali’s cell and turned the key in the lock. “I guess we’d better get you out of here.”
The front door flew open and banged against the wall. “Don’t anybody move.”
“Colonel Lewis.” Asher reached for his holster before realizing he’d not strapped it on that morning. He’d never dreamed he might need a weapon on a shopping excursion.
The colonel, however, had brought his weapon, and he pointed it at Asher. “Get back, boy. I don’t want to hurt you. My daughter’s got a soft spot for you.”
Asher’s jaw dropped. “Please tell me you haven’t embroiled her in this sordid mess.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is men’s business. I wouldn’t think of even telling her about it.” He barked a humorless laugh. “Just look at the way she said too much to you today and roused your suspicions.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Asher could see the sheriff easing his way back to his desk. He needed to distract Colonel Lewis if any of them were going to get out of this alive.
“Is that the way they do business in New Orleans? Murdering innocent women and children?”
The colonel shrugged. “They were in the way. I need all of that land from the river to the Taylor farm for my purposes. That idiot wouldn’t sell to me. Said he’d planted roots there. So I had him planted there with his roots.”
He pulled back the hammer and pointed his gun at the woodcarver. “I told you to keep your mouth shut or you’d end up like that farmer.”
Asher could not let the terrified man be killed. He leaped toward the colonel and shoved the older man’s arm hard. A double blast filled the jail with smoke and the smell of burned powder. The colonel let out a groan and fell dead at Asher’s feet.
Asher looked down at himself, surprised to see that he was not leaking blood. He looked at the woodcarver, who was staring in horrified fascination at the other end of the room. The sheriff! He turned in time to see the tall man fold in half and land on the floor with a thump.
He hurried to the sheriff and turned him over to see a nasty wound a slight distance from the man’s heart. Someone knelt beside him. It was Wohali.
“I can take care of the bleeding. You get the doctor.” Wohali inclined his head to the body of Colonel Lewis. “No one else should die because of that man’s greed.”
“Wohali, I don’t know what—”
The sheriff’s groan cut off Asher’s apology.
“Go now.” The Indian pressed his hand against the wound. “We can talk later.”
Nineteen
Rebekah pulled off her shoes and stockings and thrust her feet into the cold stream. A sorrowful sigh seemed to fill her chest, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not—”
A chirp in the limb above her head stopped her words. She looked up to see the gray brown feathers of a mockingbird. Its song continued, full o
f chiding tweets.
She frowned. “Are you mocking me?”
“Perhaps. But she is more likely trying to warn you away from the babies in her nest.”
Rebekah’s breath caught, and she drew her legs out of the water so she could turn around. There he stood—so tall, so handsome, so much the man of her dreams. Asher. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to ask for your forgiveness.” He reached for her hand and drew her up.Rebekah’s petticoat clung to her damp, bare legs. She took one step to the right, hoping to hide her shoes and stockings from his view. How embarrassing to be caught dangling her bare feet in the water like a child. She would have liked to leave him standing beside the creek, but she could not move without exposing her undergarments.
“I forgive you, Asher.” She looked down to be certain her bare toes were not peeking out.
He put a hand under her chin and raised her face to look at him. “No, not yet.”
All thoughts of her feet slid out of Rebekah’s head.
His blue eyes captured her whole attention. He looked so uncertain, so anxious. “Did you know that Wohali has been released? He is completely exonerated.”
Rebekah nodded. Wohali had come home a week ago. Her family had celebrated the release with great joy. He’d told them about Asher’s part in uncovering Colonel Lewis’s devious plan. He’d described the woodcarver’s confession and the gunfight, almost causing her to experience an Aunt Dolly swoon at the thought of Asher being shot down in the city jail.
Another detail he shared with them was the departure of the widowed Mrs. Lewis and Alexandra. They had decided to return to the family plantation rather than face the scandal surrounding the colonel’s reprehensible actions. Rebekah could not imagine the grief and pain Alexandra must be experiencing and found herself praying often for God’s comfort and peace to surround her former rival.
Asher’s hand reached back to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I cannot believe what a fool I’ve been, Rebekah. I should have listened to you. You saw everything more clearly than I did. You were right when you accused me of being heartless. I had let myself be misled by promises of glory and wealth. But I hope you know that I had no idea what means the colonel had in mind to achieve those goals.”
“Of course I believe that, Asher. I never thought you were a criminal.”
“Thank you. When I look back on my words and actions, I couldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me.” He paused for a moment and gazed over her shoulder. “When I discovered what really happened at the Marshall farm that night, I was devastated. This bright light seemed to bear down on me, and it made me so ashamed. I wanted to run from the truth, but there was nowhere to hide. God let me see how far from Him I’d gone. I died in that moment, Rebekah.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“No.” He shook his head and focused on her again. “Don’t be sorry. Be glad. I know I’ve been foolish, Rebekah. When I told my parents how sorry I was, Pa suggested I go talk to Pastor Miller. He’s a very smart man. He and I talked a long time. When I told him how I felt, he read to me about Isaiah’s vision of God. ‘Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips. . . .’ Knowing that one of God’s prophets had felt the same gave me hope that I could change in spite of the terrible things I had done. I feel like Paul—ashamed that I have spent so much time doing the wrong things but full of joy that I can now spend my energies on pleasing Him.”
Rebekah could not see him struggling so without feeling a deep pathos for Asher. Yet underlying that sadness was an upwelling of joy. Was it possible that he had changed in an instant? Yet hadn’t her own views changed that fast because of the face of an Indian boy on the road from Natchez? “Oh, Asher.”
“I hope you understand, Rebekah. I’m not only asking for your forgiveness for my past errors. I want you to take me back.” He dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hand in both of his. “I have put God first in my life, and I feel that He has led me to this moment. Can you ever love me again?”
Rebekah laughed. She could not help herself. All the sorrow that had weighed her down for weeks was gone as if it never existed. “Although I was resigned to life without you, it was so hard to forget how much you meant to me. I kept thinking I should be doing more to reach you, but I didn’t know how to accomplish it. So I prayed.”
“Thank you, Rebekah. I am not worthy of such dedication.”
“Please get up, Asher.” She tugged on the hands that enveloped hers. “You don’t need to humble yourself to me. ‘For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’ Everyone needs God’s grace and forgiveness.”
“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
She laughed again. “Well, you still haven’t asked Pa. . . .”
“I can take care of that detail right now. But first. . .” Asher sprang to his feet and wrapped his arms around her.
Rebekah reveled in the feel of his strong arms and sent a prayer of thanksgiving heavenward. The Asher she’d grown up loving had come back to her. His sincere remorse was plain to see in his face. She no longer had to worry that he would sacrifice her happiness or his relationship with God for fame and fortune. As he held her close, she felt safe and finally at peace. Her heart skipped a beat when he gently bent his head and kissed her.
She felt God’s love surround them and give their relationship a wonderful new aspect. It was deeper and richer than before. Somehow, she knew that this was the way God intended for His children to come together, and she could hardly wait to begin their journey along His path.
Epilogue
Mid-October 1815
Donny came running into the room and pulled on the skirt of Rebekah’s dress.
She pulled him onto her lap. “Yes, dear. What’s wrong?”
“Ma says come on. Ev’one waiting.”
Rebekah lifted her little brother off of her lap and stood. As he ran back outside, she brushed the pale yellow material of her gown. It was the first one Aunt Dolly had given her. . .and her favorite. She had known it would be the perfect choice to begin her new life.
Rebekah opened the door and stepped into the bright autumn sunshine. She sent a quick prayer heavenward, thanking God for providing such a beautiful day for the moment she would become Mrs. Asher Landon.
“Here she is.” Pastor Miller’s voice turned everyone’s attention to her. He was standing beside Asher under the shade of the tulip poplar, which seemed to have dressed especially for her wedding as the beginnings of fall colors showed in its leafy branches.
She walked past the grand table Pa had hewn from the trunk of a gigantic tree. When she had first seen it, she’d not been able to imagine that they could fill the table with food, but it now practically groaned underneath the weight of everything from cakes and pies to roast chicken, duck, and venison. As soon as Pastor Miller invoked God’s blessing on her union to Asher, they would all sit around Pa’s table and fellowship together.
She smiled at Wohali and Noya. They were being better received since the truth about the Marshall tragedy had been uncovered. The Cherokee couple’s steadfast faith during Wohali’s imprisonment had even won over several of her neighbors who did not normally like to associate with Indians.
Asher’s family was standing next to the creek, to his right, while Rebekah’s family stood on the other side of Pastor Miller.
Una Miller had claimed one of the chairs Pa had moved out from the cabin. She sat next to Rachel Jackson, who cooed over the precious baby girl Mrs. Miller cradled in her arms. Even the general was smiling as he bent over his wife. Aunt Dolly was standing next to the sheriff, whispering something in his ear as she waved a lace handkerchief at Rebekah.
Then all Rebekah’s attention centered on Asher standing so tall and handsome in his uniform. It was a shame he would not don it again after today’s ceremony, but he had decided to resign from the militia and take a job at his pa’s bank. The only reason he wore it for the wedding
was because General and Mrs. Jackson were present.
Asher had also joined her in talking with Pastor Miller about working with the Indians in the area. They would help to educate them so they would be able to adapt to the changes on the frontier. But more importantly, they would work together to tell the Indians of God’s love and forgiveness, available to all of His children.
It seemed to Rebekah she had waited for this moment for half a lifetime, but she could not regret the delay because she knew instinctively that she and Asher had not been ready to begin a marriage two years ago—not until they put their lives fully in God’s hands. She prayed they were ready now.
Together they faced Pastor Miller, who smiled as he opened his Bible. “ ‘And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.’ Friends, I give you today Asher Landon, a good man who has come to me many times over the past weeks, seeking the will of God. He has promised to cherish and care for Rebekah Taylor. . . .”
Rebekah let the words wash over her. She looked at the man who was becoming her husband and felt a great peace flow through her. Here under their tulip poplar, all of their dreams were coming true.
About the Authors
Diane Ashley, a “town girl” born and raised in Mississippi, has worked more than twenty years for the House of Representatives. She rediscovered a thirst for writing, was led to a class taught by Aaron McCarver, and became a founding member of the Bards of Faith. Visit her at www.bardsoffaith.homestead.com
Aaron McCarver is a transplanted Mississippian who was raised in the mountains near Dunlap, Tennessee. He loves his jobs of teaching at two Christian colleges and editing for Barbour Publishing. A member of ACFW, he is coauthor with Gilbert Morris of the bestselling series, The Spirit of Appalachia.
Dedications
From Aaron:
To Gilbert Morris, a true legend: None of the wonderful opportunities that have come to me in the Christian publishing industry would have happened without your special help and guidance. Thank you for all you have done for me, for your special friendship. . .and for finally redeeming the name “Aaron.”