by Unknown
Ben had fought down a bitter taste most of the night. Despite his excitement at Jon’s appointment, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss at the same time. Since it was obvious that Liza had feelings for Jon, and who could blame her, the time had come to back away from her, forget the fact that he’d already given her his heart. He would just have to rein it back in, regain control. Lili would be disappointed, but so be it. Some things were not meant to be, and God help him, this was one of them.
“Ben, good to see you,” Jon said, offering a hand at the school’s front door. Several people stood in a long line, each waiting for his turn to welcome the new preacher.
“Congratulations, my friend. I’m proud of you. You’ll make Hickman a fine minister,” Ben said.
“It’s not about what I can do, Ben. It’s about what God can do through me,” Jon said.
Ben took the hand offered him, ashamed for the jealousy that hovered so close. God, he is a spiritual giant next to me. The sudden insight made Ben withdraw his hand.
“A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you.”
Why did it seem that the short passage from Ezekiel that he’d read that very morning had now come back to taunt him? Did he need a new heart? Was God trying to tell him something here?
“You okay?” Jon asked.
“I’m fine. I best be getting home to my girls.”
Ben started to go through the door. When he glanced back, he saw Liza approach Jon with a smile on her face and two of her older students on both arms.
Not far behind Liza stood Iris Winthrop, her normally down-turned face actually donning a halfway pleasant look.
***
It was Saturday morning. The sun came over the horizon like a bride about to meet her groom, dazzling and perfect. It was enough to take Liza’s breath away as she busied herself in her neat little kitchen, canning the last of her applesauce and peaches and sipping on her morning cup of coffee.
Something about Saturday mornings brought out the domestic side to Liza, making her want to dust everything in sight, beat the rugs until they nearly fell apart, wash every last garment she owned, and cook up a storm on her refurbished cook stove. Now, she ran a hand over its smooth, clean enamel and blessed the day that Ben and his friends had not only scrubbed the stove and sink until they sparkled, but also helped to make her cabin livable.
She scanned her surroundings with loving eyes and, as was often the case, allowed her gaze to fall upon the painting that hung next to the bedroom door.
Patience Is a Virtue. She liked to think she was learning the meaning behind those words, but every once in a while, she got hit with a fresh dose of reality and knew with certainty she had not. Her stormy reaction to Mrs. Winthrop’s recent classroom visit exposed her weakness when it came to patience. Even now, she stewed over the harshly spoken words.
A sudden knock at her door drew her up short. She dropped the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir her applesauce back into the kettle and tugged the belt of her nightdress securely around her.
That would be Lili, she decided with a smile, begging to help her with the canning. And she would welcome her company.
However, it wasn’t Lili but Ben who stood just on the other side of the door, his overwhelming stature making her heart pound in her chest.
She peered at him through the shiny glass pane, having opened all the curtains as soon as the sun began to rise. She’d wanted to experience its loveliness from every window. Now she wished she hadn’t been so hasty, for he could easily see every move she made. In fact, she wondered just how long he’d been watching her before he’d even knocked. Such foolishness.
Ben peered back, his stare unreadable. “Open the door,” he ordered, and none too softly.
She turned the knob with care. “I’m not dressed yet,” she murmured, intending to open the door a matter of inches, dismayed when he managed to push it fully past her.
He inspected her. “Then get dressed.” His tone demanded notice.
“What?”
The sound of a nickering horse on the other side of the house forced her head past his broad frame. Ben’s beautiful stallion stood shackled to a pine tree like some raging fiend unable to contain his fury. A hind foot beat out a rhythm into the hard, cold earth, vibrating everything around it. Liza could only imagine once sleeping ground moles now scattering about in their underground tunnels.
“You once told me you could ride.”
“Yes.”
“Put on some riding clothes then,” he said. “You’re going to prove it.”
“Now?” Anger suddenly replaced confusion. “I’m busy right now.”
“Busy? Or scared?”
“What? How dare you?” Lord, here I am again, requiring patience.
Ben gave no response this time, just arched eyebrows asking a silent question.
“Oh, all right. Give me a minute,” she said, “but I don’t understand the point of this.”
“You will,” was all he said by way of response.
Brisk morning air chilled her to the bone. Of course, she could blame her sudden chill on the air or she could blame the man and his wild horse.
“You know how to mount?” he asked when she faced him wearing a pair of Uncle Gideon’s overalls and work shirt. To say that she felt like a fool was putting it mildly. She worried about what he must be thinking, then gave that up when she realized he’d barely even looked at her. What was wrong with him?
“Of course I know how to mount. I grew up riding at Uncle Gideon’s sister’s ranch.”
“Then I suppose you know all about riding wild stallions?”
“I’ve ridden a few—I think,” she added for general purposes. She hadn’t really been told of the horses’ genders.
His lower lip twitched just slightly, and she thought he might have smiled were it not for his sour mood. “This guy needs to know right from the start that you don’t intend to give him any slack. Let him know who’s boss,” Ben said, indicating the horse.
“Like you’re doing now, you mean?” she asked, hoping to pry a smile out of him with her facetious comment.
“This is no time for joking.”
“No, I can see that,” she answered, turning down her mouth. “Don’t worry, I can manage.”
He gave her a slanted glance. “Don’t be so sure of yourself.”
Liza breathed heavily and the stallion sidestepped, giving Liza a start. “Why’d he jump like that?”
“Because you breathed. Steady, Tanner,” Ben said in a soft voice, rubbing a hand along the horse’s muscled neck.
“Because I breathed?”
“Sudden moves or noises spook him. When you walk him, be on guard for chipmunks, squirrels, anything that might run across his path. If he jolts, you’ll need to be prepared.”
Her heart stepped up its beating, and she sucked in a silent breath of air, taking the reins that Ben handed over to her.
When she lifted her foot to place it in the stirrup, she realized her need for help. Without prompting, Ben stepped up and lifted her at the waist until her booted foot connected with the stirrup, and she managed to swing her other leg over. He had already adjusted the stirrup heights, placing them in the last loops so that they would be at the shortest distance from the saddle. He must think her such a child, she mused.
“Comfortable?” he asked. He seemed miles away from her.
She nodded, thankful that the horse had barely moved when she mounted. She felt his giant body quiver and quake beneath her when she made an adjustment in the saddle, heard the steady roar of each dragon breath as he pranced in place.
“Take him slowly. You’ll need to pull back or he’ll take your slackness to mean you want to run.”
“Maybe I do.”
He gave her a scorching look. “Don’t even think about it.”
As soon as she clicked her tongue to her teeth to nudge the horse along, he gave a powerful jerk, a thrust of his body that set Liza�
�s mind at attention. She pulled for all she was worth on the bulky leather reins, the friction burning clear through her heavy gloves.
“Easy now,” she heard Ben whisper, the familiarity of his tone immediately quieting the manic beast. “Liza, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said, his voice suddenly gone shaky.
For some reason, Liza delighted in the thought of worrying him. “Too late now,” she said with a fastened grin.
Again, she nudged the horse forward, prepared this time for any sudden moves. As expected, Tanner lurched and snorted, but she rode it out, moving in the saddle in accordance with his gait, familiarizing herself with his power and might, gaining Ben’s respect with every passing second. Her childhood riding lessons were paying off.
After several minutes of walking, Liza stepped Tanner up to a slow-paced canter.
“Liza, I said to keep him walking,” she heard Ben say, his voice low and calm so as not to spook the horse. So far, she’d stayed within Ben’s parameters, between the cabin and the main house, with him staying close by, issuing quiet orders from behind.
“I think we’re starting to get used to each other,” she said, pleased when Tanner didn’t jerk forward at the sound of her voice.
“That’s no reason to get overconfident,” Ben replied.
She supposed he was right, so she pulled back on the reins, proud with the way Tanner reacted to her silent command. “Whoa,” she added for good measure.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly until Lili burst from the house, all spunk and spirit. “Miss Merriwether, you’re riding Tanner!” she squealed with delight. At that, Molly let go a different kind of squeal as she toppled off the porch steps and rolled to the ground. Liza witnessed it all from the corner of her eye, but that was all the time Tanner gave her before he bolted off toward the open field and Little Hickman Creek. The wind in her face, Liza felt the bun in her hair fall apart, her long hair flying behind her.
“Whoa!” she bellowed until her throat wrenched in pain. “Whoa!”
Her body bounced like a rag doll atop the raging, locomotive-like creature. She fought to stay upright, yet forced herself not to go rigid lest she lose her footing.
Stay with the animal; contemplate his every move; talk to him; breathe with him; and above all else, never, never, never let him smell your fear. The words of a childhood instructor came into her mind.
With all her might, she pulled back on the reins. “Dear Father in heaven, please make this horse obey,” she shouted to the heavens, gripped by terror when Tanner leaped over a small ravine, pleased when she managed to right herself by grabbing hold of the saddle horn and sliding back into place.
Talk to him. “Easy, boy, that’s it. Whoa.” After what seemed like several minutes, her gentler talk seemed to slow his pace. Pulling the reins tighter, she kept up her talk. “That’s a boy. Easy. Now you have it,” she continued, hoping he was listening. “Slower now. No need to hurry,” she said, noting that her yanking had given way to gentle tugs.
With ears directed outward, Tanner released several loud, angry snorts from his giant nostrils as he slowed to a canter and then an unhurried walk. She reached down a hand to rub his sweat-strewn side, realizing her own frantic breathing coincided with that of the horse. “Calm down,” she issued, as if she were someone worthy of his attention.
“Thank You, Lord,” she whispered toward the heavens.
Approaching hoofbeats forced her gaze toward home, where she spotted one of the draft horses, carrying Ben, leaving behind grey clouds of dust. Ben rode bareback, a magnificent sight, man and beast.
For a moment, Liza feared Ben’s approach might spook Tanner again, but at the sound of Ben’s voice, the horse remained in place. “Liza, are you all right?” he asked, bringing his horse to a dead standstill next to Tanner. Both horses let go a string of snorts, enough to match two fiery dragons standing side by side.
“I’m perfectly fine,” she said, calm as could be. No point in letting him know what terror she’d just encountered.
“Good,” Ben said, hiding any show of emotion. “You’ll be riding Tanner to school every day from now on.”
***
Ben met Liza at the barn the next few mornings, reacquainting her with the procedure for readying Tanner for the ride to school. He showed her where to find the tack, how tight to pull the belly harness, and how to station herself in the stall when saddling him up. In the event that Tanner should rear or sidestep, Ben had built a permanent ladder against the wall for making a hasty exit. “I’ve had to use it a couple of times myself,” he’d admitted. “Tanner doesn’t realize his might. When he objects to something, it’s not usually out of spite but fear.”
“I’ll manage,” Liza had said, her shoulders straight, her stance determined.
“After what I witnessed, I’ve no doubt you will,” he’d said with a grin, assessing Liza from top to bottom, still amazed at the grit she’d displayed when the stallion had bolted.
How could he fault Jon for his attraction to her? She was a woman to admire and cherish. And since Liza appeared to be equally charmed with Jon, he had no choice but to wish them both the best. Hadn’t she as much as said she’d rather ride alone with Jon to the church meeting? Sure, the truth had hurt, but better to find it out now than later.
He and Jon had been friends for years, and the last thing Ben wanted was for a woman to come between them.
“Do all things without murmurings and disputings.”
If that verse from Philippians hadn’t been clear enough about what God expected of him, he was sure there were plenty more where that came from.
“You’ll have to lead Tanner over to that wooden bench so you can mount him without my help from now on,” Ben had told her on the third morning. “I won’t be out here most mornings.” In fact, he’d make it a point not to be.
She’d given him a strained look. “Of course. You have more important things to see to than—well, you’re very generous to allow me to borrow Tanner.”
“You’ll have your independence,” he’d reminded.
She’d nodded. “I’ll be safe on Tanner, and you won’t have to bother with driving me.”
“It was never a bother, Liza.”
“No, but—this is much better—for everyone.”
He’d taken a step back then to get the full view of her. She wore no riding pants, but her long skirts covered most of her legs, and her high-top boots took care of what they didn’t. Her hat covered her neatly pinned golden hair, a shame since now he knew how those locks looked when flowing freely in the wind. Her pink cheeks flushed at his perusal. “Well, I’ll be off, then,” she’d said, turning the already prancing stallion in the direction of town.
“I don’t need to tell you to be careful.”
“No, I suppose you don’t,” she’d said, turning to glance at him, but not really looking into his eyes.
“Well, Sam will be expecting Tanner at the livery,” he’d added, laying a hand to Tanner’s rump.
“Yes, and thank you again. I appreciate this.”
That marked the end to their conversation, as Miss Merriwether had by then kicked the stallion into a slow canter. As she did, her bonnet, tied under her chin, came loose from her head and flew behind her. No doubt, her hair would do the same.
***
November ushered in December, and with it came Kentucky’s first snowflakes. The children couldn’t contain their joy when they spied the silvery flecks.
“Miss Merriwether, can we get a closer look?” asked Lili, her big blue eyes round with hope and wonder.
But before Liza could nod her approval, the Hogsworth twins had already beaten a trail to the window closest to their desks. The rest of the class stood at the ready.
She laughed. “Take five minutes.”
You’d have thought she’d just announced the end to the school day the way the children leaped from their seats and headed for the tall windows on either side of the room. When they’d gotten
their fill of looking out one window, they raced across the room to another, as if the flakes would fall any differently on the opposite side of the building.
Liza couldn’t help but catch their excitement as she nuzzled in between Eloise Brackett and Rosie Bartel to peer up at the snowy clouds emitting the frosty crystals. Placing an arm over both girls’ shoulders, Liza was alarmed to discover a large bump at the base of Rosie’s neck, just under her right ear. Her high collar did a good job of covering most of it, but when Liza’s arm had rested atop the child’s shoulder it had managed to pull away a bit of the material.
“Rosie, what happened to you?” she asked, bending to get a better look at the black-and-blue mark, alarmed at its protruding size.
The child’s hand went to the spot, then yanked her collar back in place. Her downcast eyes seemed filled with worry and torment. “’Twas nothin’,” she said, turning away and heading for her desk. The rest of the children talked in excited tones about the snow and barely noticed when their teacher took Rosie aside.
“Rosie, how did you get this mark?” She knelt beside the child’s desk when Rosie took her seat.
“I fell,” she muttered. “I fell off the porch and hit a big rock.”
Liza gasped. “Did your mother have Doctor Randolph look at it?”
She threw wide her eyes. “’Course not. We never go to the Doc. Mama says we’re too poor.”
“I’m sure the doctor would understand if your parents couldn’t pay immediately. Would you like us to walk over there during the lunch break?”
“No!” She seemed clear on that.
Liza leaned in closer. “Sweetie, is there anything you’re not telling me? How did you fall off the porch?”
“I tripped. Clement says I’m very clumsy.”
“Clement?”
At that, Rosie curled her lips under and pinched them tight together, an indication that she’d already said more than she intended. Hands folded at her desk, she stared straight ahead, as if to study the origin of some speck on the wall.