The little girl nodded.
“Do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God who died on the cross for your sins and that His Holy Spirit has the power to heal our infirmities today as Jesus did when He walked the shores of Galilee?”
“Yes, I do believe,” the little girl said.
Silence pulsed in Ben’s ears. He held his breath. The preacher grabbed both her hands into his. “Then in the name of Jesus Christ, I cast out this evil and demon spirit of illness. Satan, I bind you and the forces of evil in this little girl’s body, and in Jesus’ name I command you to leave her and her family alone! In the name of my Lord Jesus Christ, little girl, rise and walk.”
The little girl rose to a sitting position, swung her legs over the edge of her pallet and stood up. The crowd gasped. The little girl took a hesitant step, then another, and another. Tears flowed down her face. She hobbled on wobbly legs toward the preacher. “I can walk, I can walk, oh thank you!”
“No, little one, thank Jesus!” The preacher looked up over the mass of people. “Would you like to be free from your sins, free from what ails you, free from the shackles Satan has placed over your hearts and minds? Then bow your heads, please, and repeat after me. Lord Jesus, I am a sinner and not worthy of your grace. …Lord, forgive me of my sins, …I repent of my evil doings and ask for Your Holy Spirit to come into my heart. I accept by faith Your salvation message, being born again into Christ’s family. ‘For that which is born of flesh is flesh; and that which is born of Spirit is spirit… For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ Deliver us from the evil one, Jesus, now and forever more, amen.”
Ben repeated the words as the murmur of voices swelled around him. Maggie’s sweet voice blended with his, and he wished he had the nerve to reach for her hand. Before he could utter the last syllable, Big Jim had scooped him up into his strong arms and marched him down toward the preacher.
Ben wanted his legs back more than the air in his lungs. But somehow, that paled in comparison to feeling the freedom he experienced repeating those simple words of the preacher. Whatever happened, being a life-long cripple, a lowly beggar, or fighting in a war he didn’t believe in, he had that narrow road to follow that led to Jesus and a celestial home to go to just beyond the hilltops. Maggie’s cheeks glistened with tears. What plan had his Savior crafted for them? Or would his decrepit flesh waylay him from his intended mission?
Chapter 9
C ome in,” Maggie answered in response to the gentle knock on her bedroom door.
Hattie opened the door, then slammed it shut. “There’s no stopping that devil now.” Laying her back against the door, she gnawed on what was left of her nails. She reached for her rabbit’s foot, rubbing it intensely.
“What’s this?”
“Cook’s, she lent it to me.”
“You know I don’t believe in Cook’s superstitious mumbo jumbo.”
“Yous got your cross; we gots our rabbit foots.”
The feeling of Maggie’s smooth gold cross beneath her fingertips gave her pause. Lord, tell me how to convey Your message to the unsaved. “This isn’t a charm; this is to remind me that I’m a sinner and need my Savior, Jesus, to guide me, to keep me on the narrow road to His—”
“Your Mother will soon be at those very pearly gates if’n you don’t get downstairs… oh, come quick. Mr. Reynolds is… and your father is …”
Reynolds’ angry voice drifted up from the study as Maggie followed Hattie down the winding staircase, clutching the cherry wood banister like a life preserver.
“He’s nothing but a liar. He was never a cripple.” Reynolds leaned over her mother’s chair, yelling in her face. Maggie hurried toward them, pushing Reynolds aside.
“How dare you speak to my mother like that!” She turned to her father who sat at his desk, his eyes cast downward, his face a block of ice. “Father?”
“I want Ben McConnell and his Irish cronies off this place today.” Reynolds was an inch away from Maggie’s face. She kept her focus on his beady eyes, much like a snake’s, that is if she ever had the misfortune to see one this close. That thought made her laugh.
Reynolds backed away. Totally baffled, he looked from her to her father.
Her hands shook with rage. She buried them in her billowing skirt.
Like an archangel, Mother stepped in front of her. “It is not for you to decide who may or may not reside at Spirit Wind.”
“Are you going to allow your half-breed wife to talk to me like this?”
Father’s chair scraped across the wooden floor. His heavy footsteps walked slowly toward them, as if he dreaded his journey’s end. What was wrong with Father? How could he allow Reynold’s to speak that way about her mother?
“Maggie, are you certain Ben was crippled? Could he have been faking to acquire help for himself and the Irishmen? This sort of deception has been used before.” Her father studied her mother’s face to see her reaction to his words.
Maggie rose to her full height. “I am certain, Father. Ben was not pretending. He could not feel anything from the waist down. I nearly burned him with that horse liniment. See,” she said, holding out her hands, “there is still a bit of a burn on my thumb here.”
Father inspected her hands, turning them. “And he acquired miraculous healing from this, this… faith healer?”
“That is preposterous!” Mr. Reynolds slammed his fist on her father’s desk. “Mr. Gatlan, how can you be taken in by a faith healer and the wiles of your wife and daughter?” His steel-gray eyes stared at him.
Father glanced at her mother. Like ice cracking with the first gleam of the sun, father’s hard face melted into a smile. He hugged her mother close to his broad chest. “I could never live without my better half.”
“Well.” Reynolds huffed. His eyes narrowed into slits of hatred; his thin lips menacing, he snarled. “I can no longer be a part of this… woman’s deceit. She has cast a spell on you both.”
Reynolds stormed toward the study door, then turned, his hand on the brass knob. “But I warn you, you’ll wish I hadn’t left, what with that abolitionist John Brown and his armed insurrection to free the slaves. You’ll be killed in your beds by the black hands of your slaves, of whom you are so diligent to protect.”
Maggie looked from her father to the door wobbling on its hinges like a rudder of a lost ship from Reynolds’ departure. “Well, I say good riddance.”
“You might not think that way if you read the headlines of the paper this morning. There’s trouble brewing, Maggie. This John Brown fellow isn’t going to quit until he’s burned us out of our homes.”
“Well, we have Ben and his Irishmen to protect us.” Maggie smiled. She envisioned Ben’s strong arms wrapped around her waist, only this time all for the right reasons. Oh, just think how thankful he must be toward her for taking him to the revival. Ben had run up the aisle, grabbed her and swung her around, kissing her smartly on her upturned cheek. She placed a forefinger to her lips; she could just imagine.
“Daughter, Ben and the Irishmen are leaving. Seems that word has come about a job opportunity in Kentucky.”
Maggie was already halfway to the door, her head in a whirl, half-anticipating Ben’s touch again. And those eyes, laughing, jesting, all wrapped into a delightful package of mirth. “When Ben knows how much we need him, he’ll stay, you’ll see.”
“Then we must sell some of our slaves if we keep the Irish on,” her father retorted, walking toward his desk and sitting down. “There’s not enough in the money box for the Irish and feeding and clothing our slaves. Besides, I’ve run out of work for them to do until spring. Maybe in April I’ll be able to train and sell some of my Thoroughbreds for the races and harvest some cotton and tobacco.”
“It will be a tight Christmas as it is,” Mother said. “Your father just paid Mr. Reynolds a sizable amount of money… how did that come about, dear?”
; Her father shrugged. “I thought I had paid him his wages for the year and only owed him this month’s pay.” He pointed to the books. “But see here, it says I owe him, and… wait a minute. I did pay him. Someone scratched off Reynolds’ initials. I paid him the total amount of $3000 in cash last month.”
“It is his word against yours, dear husband.”
Maggie couldn’t believe her ears. “What now, Father? And who will run Spirit Wind?”
“Eli can through the winter months.” Her father opened a drawer and withdrew his pistol. “Or else I could resign as mayor. I wouldn’t mind it. I prefer working outdoors.”
“No,” her mother replied. “This is a critical time in Bount County and Maryville needs you.”
“I suppose you are right, dear. Then we will need to hire another overseer come spring.” Her father pocketed the pistol and headed toward the door. “Reynolds isn’t getting away with this.”
Her mother took him by the arm. “Reynolds will only deny it.” She patted his pocket. “Let it be, it’s only money.”
“Marie!”
“I am glad we are rid of this dishonest man. Finally, I have my husband back.”
“But, Marie.”
“With that type of man, you would have to kill him or forever watch your back. You know I am right. Now, husband, can you deny this?”
“That is my intention. He’s the worst kind of polecat. I can’t believe I was so deceived by him. And I need to put him in his place before he tries to do any additional harm to my family.”
Mother looked up at him pleadingly. “Please, husband, let it be. The Good Book tells us to not to repay evil for evil.”
“Marie, this is life. You can’t always turn the other cheek; that could get you killed.”
Her eyes beseeched his. Finally, Father relented. Mother grabbed Maggie’s arm. “Come along, Maggie, go and say your goodbyes to Ben. But I wouldn’t let him know about our troubles, might be he’d feel obligated to stay on and help us.”
Ben threw his few possessions into the middle of his blanket along with the food Maggie had given him, tied up the corners, then placed a stick through the knot and tossed it over his shoulder. He fell in line with the other Irishman traveling down the road they’d been traveling for three days.
Big Jim began the middle lines of “Garryowen,” picking up where they’d left off last night while drinking their coffee. “Our hearts so stout have got us fame, For soon ’tis known from whence we came Where’er we go they dread the name, Of Garryowen in glory.”
Maggie’s brown eyes bubbled up from his heart to his thoughts. She was a rare one. She’d said goodbye without an afterthought as to the success of their venture. Confident in their ability, she was.
“Ah, the jiggle of money in my pockets feels good,” Big Jim said, pacing himself next to Ben.
“Indeed.” Ben chuckled. Big Jim’s large grin nearly swallowed his cheeks. “What are you going to do with yours?”
“I’m planning to buy me a little farm.” Big Jim spryly walked around a puddle leftover from the previous night’s snowflakes that had melted with the first sunlight. “What be yours?”
“A little land to call my own sounds pleasant to be sure.” Ben pointed to the large building. “Is this Stearns’ coal mining camp?”
A short, burly man with sideburns that swept to his wiry black mustache walked out of the coal mining headquarters. They had arrived at the noon hour, evidently, for he swiped his mouth with a checkered napkin. “Ok, your bunk is in Building B, find you a cot and settle in. I’ll be there shortly to sign you in.”
Walking down the lane made by the heavy wagonloads of supplies and coal, Ben’s boots crunched in the dirt heavily layered with coarse coal dust. Men with faces powdered with coal dust sat on stumps or on a little piece of grass as if to feel and touch a piece of greenery amidst the bleak and blackness. They looked up at them, not bothering to move their heads in a nod, just the whites of their eyes moved, then they continued eating their lunch.
“The sun has just reached the top of the sky and these men look ready to drop,” Ben whispered to Big Jim. One guy, surely no older than thirteen, looked up at them and grinned, then blinked, squinted, and looked down at his plate. “You’re newcomers.”
“How’d you be knowing that?” Ben stopped and caught a whiff of what the boy was eating. If the food didn’t taste any better than it smelled, he doubted he cared to be trying it at all.
“’Cause your face is clean and your clothes don’t smell of smoke or coal.”
“What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Sunlight bother’s them.”
Before opening the door to their new sleeping quarters, Ben squared his shoulders and glanced back at the youth, recalling his earlier days in Ireland. Bedding down in a grass hut, breathing in the mud of the moors on his sodden face. Jesus, get me out of this place like you did in Ireland. You have not predestined a life for me here in the coal mines, I am sure.
Ben picked a cot by the window. He felt the mattress and noticed it wasn’t too clean, but it was softer than sleeping on the ground. He reached into his pockets for the bits of paper Maggie had given him.
Six months of recuperating from his wounds had not only helped his body, it had given Maggie time to teach him how to write his name and read. He wasn’t real good with the writing part, never did have the opportunity of putting his thoughts on paper or of writing letters and such, but he knew he’d be doing a lot of that now.
“Okay, men, form a line and we’ll get you signed up proper for your weekly checks,” the foreman said as he entered the building. He pulled up a straight back chair and sat down at the only table gracing the wee room littered with cots so close Ben had to side step to reach his pillow to lie down on.
Ben was first in line. Proudly he wrote his name in big bold letters. “How long are you fixing we’ll be working here?”
The man with the sweeping whiskers looked him up and down like he was a piece of meat on an auction block. “Depends how you work and if you can keep up working twelve hours a day, six days a week. You get lunch given to you, but you have to pay for your breakfast and dinner and, of course, the lodging.”
“So we don’t need to live on the premises?”
The man shrugged. “It’s a free country, but kind of hard to work the hours living off the coal field.”
Ben moved over so that the next man could sign his name “What if a body only cares to work until they get up enough money to buy them a little farm?”
“That’s fine. Like I said, it’s a free country unless you owe a debt to the company store.” Sideburns looked up, staring a hole in Ben’s face, then his face softened. “Look, if I was you, I’d stay clear of the company store and the bar at Whitley. That little old farm could probably be yours say in a year or two.” Sideburns wagged his pen before Ben’s face. “But if you kick up your heels, you’ll most likely turn out to be a lifer, like most of these gents.” He pointed to the open door and the men having their lunch. “Of course, you can always rent one of the houses out yonder if you have a notion to settle down.”
Ben crossed his arms. “Then for sure I’d owe my soul to this coal mining camp.”
Sideburns chuckled. “You learn fast, kid.”
Chapter 10
C hildren find your seats, please.” Maggie chuckled watching how quickly everyone obeyed her. Seeing Susie she smiled.
Susie’s neat brown red-checkered calico flattered her gentle curves. Her starched white turban accentuated her oval face, high cheek bones, and beautiful large, expressive eyes. My, she’s blossoming into a beautiful young lady. Where have the years gone?
Realization dawned that two years had already past since Ben left.
Maggie hugged her Bible, walking down the rows of long tables, checking each one’s work. She tapped Susie on her shoulder. “Where have you been for three days? We’ve missed your sweet face here at the Glenn.”
Susie looked up from her tabl
et, her large liquid brown eyes, surrounded by sooty black lashes gazed into hers. The moon peeking through the windows lit her face with an iridescent glow, then suddenly her lower lip quivered. She bent her head onto her desk, her shoulders heaving with her sobs.
“What has happened?” Maggie whispered as she knelt down.
“I’m pregnant, Miss Maggie. And I’ve had morning sickness something awful.”
Maggie covered her mouth. How could this be? Each boy met her gaze, their mouths a round O as each shook their heads in denial.
“Twernt one of them, Miss Maggie.” Susie looked up with tears making rivulets down her oval face and splattering onto her desk. “Mr. Reynolds been having his way with me and my little sister.”
Maggie plopped down into the nearest chair. She was aware these things went on, but not to anyone she knew. Well, she would alert Mother as to the charge. Mother had been attending Maryville’s Society of Friends meetings. Maggie placed her hand in her pocket and grasped Ben’s letter. He’d be here the day after tomorrow. Should she tell him?
The school had flourished after Mr. Reynolds left Spirit Wind. Now she knew why. Maggie thought Reynolds was busy taking care of his own plantation he bought adjoining Spirit Wind. Now, Reynolds’ extra-curricular activities had come into play again. She bid the children good-byes and hurried to her horse.
“They hung him, Marie. Right there in plain daylight for everyone to see.” Her father’s disheveled state said it all. He must have ridden all night to get back from Virginia this early in the morning.
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