by Unknown
“Look,” he finally said, pulling a thick envelope from his pocket, “I’ll put you up at Emma’s. You can stay as long as you care to, after which I’ve provided you with enough money to go back East to your friends and family.” He dropped the envelope on the table under her flawlessly formed nose.
She pushed the envelope back at him. “I have very few friends and family back East,” she stated simply. “I’ll stay on here, find something to do, somewhere to work.”
“What?” How could he tactfully tell her she would never fit in? He measured his words with care. “By the look of you, you’ve never even seen a speck of dust before. This town is built on dirt.”
“I can handle dirt. I’m staying and I don’t want or need your money.”
No, he could see she didn’t need his money. But why she would want to stay when Little Hickman had nothing to offer a woman like her was beyond him.
He angled his face at her, then inched the envelope back in her direction. She promptly shoved it back. “Please, Mr. Broughton, I believe God sent me to this town, if not for the purpose of marrying you, then for something else far greater, and I shan’t go back on that conviction. Now, if you’ll be so kind, could you carry in my trunk?”
***
At close of day, Liza scanned her quiet, vacant classroom, the last of her students having rushed out the door just fifteen minutes ago. Everything was in its place, papers picked up, books neatly stacked.
The Christmas play had helped to take Lili’s mind off the incident she’d witnessed on the street, her father with the beautiful stranger, as she read her lines with rapt enthusiasm. “What manner of salutation is this, O angel?”
And when the angel Gabriel, played by none other than Rufus Baxter, told her with snickers that she was to bear a child, she solemnly replied, with great dramatic flair, “But how shall this be, seeing I know not a man?”
Gabriel, fighting to regain his composure, said, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon you, and you shall bear a—a child, for with God nothing shall be impossible.”
Then a blushing Mary hastily replied, “Behold thy handmaid; be it unto me according to thy word.”
All the students clapped at the final curtain, tickled by their achievement, tickled further when Liza surprised them with homemade cider and cookies. If her heart hadn’t weighed so uncommonly heavy, Liza might have been more apt to join in the excitement, but as it was, she’d had to paste a smile on her face the entire time.
Just as Liza pushed her chair up to her desk and stepped off the tiny platform to head for the coat closet, the door blew open, and in its wake stood Clement Bartel.
“Clement!” Her heart went into immediate double-time, pumping out a pace that made her feel like fainting. His figure so shocked her that at first she stood frozen in place, unable even to think rationally. But the slammed door, along with his fiery eyes and hard-faced expression, snapped her back to attention.
“You are not to come anywhere near me, Clement Bartel. You’ve been banned from school property,” she said, stepping backward.
He laughed, the malicious sound chilling her as he eased forward. Without forethought, she made a mad dash for the back door, figuring if she moved fast enough she could make it to safety.
But her hopes all shattered when he seized her just before she touched the doorknob and dragged her painfully by the hair across the room, tossing her like a rag doll into a chair. “Sit there, witch!” he roared.
With little consideration for the consequences, she released a bloodcurdling scream, to which he rewarded her with a slap across her stitched jaw.
Untold pain wreaked havoc with her senses as she felt fresh blood make a pathway down her face. A tingling sensation came over her with the shock of it, made tears gush without warning and her eyes go blurry.
“Ha! Blood, just the result I was looking for.” He lurked over her, madness in his eyes. “Got me a rope, see?” He withdrew a ball of twine from his hip pocket and stuck it under her nose.
Amidst the excruciating pain, she knew the importance of maintaining a measure of calm if she was to come out of this alive. “I thought you ran away,” she managed, her throat tight and painful.
“That’s a laugh. These hills are filled with caves. I’d know ’em with my eyes closed. Fool sheriff thought he had me figgered out. I even overheard ’im tell a group o’ other idiots that even one as stupid as Clement Bartel wouldn’t stick around these parts.” Clement cursed. She lifted her hands to her ears to blot out the evil words.
“Stick yer hands out,” he ordered hoarsely, showing her the twine.
“Clement, don’t do this,” she said, even as she extended her hands, anything to avoid another blow to her face. When he began to wrap her hands with the twine, she felt a twinge of pity for the boy. “God loves you, Clement. You don’t have to prove yourself to Him or anyone. He wants to come into your heart and…”
Another bluster of rage made him strike her in the mouth, knocking her sideways, threatening to land her on the floor were it not for Clement’s yanking her back into place. “Shut up! Ain’t no God in these parts.”
Indescribable pain shot through her face as she felt blood trickle from a split lip. “Dear Father in heaven, please…”
“Shut up, I tell you!” he bellowed, bending down until his face came even with hers. At least he didn’t strike her, and she counted that a blessing.
“Please keep me safe, dear Father, and help Clement…”
The school door flew open, hitting the wall and bouncing back. Rufus Baxter stood in the entryway, feet apart, hands at his sides.
“Rufe, you’re just the man I was lookin’ fer,” Clement said, turning with nonchalance. “Come lend me a hand.”
Rufus walked inside, giving a wary eye to Liza, who by now could barely make him out due to her mounting wooziness.
“You okay, Miss Merriwether?” he asked. “I came back for my lunch pail.”
“Rufus, you must leave immediately. Go!” she issued, hoping he wouldn’t try to involve himself. Clement would think no more of killing him than he would of crushing an ant beneath his boot.
Clement laughed and made fast work of using the twine to tie her to the chair.
Next, he withdrew something from his pocket and struck it against his shoe, then tossed it in the air, where it landed on a stack of papers. A match?
Blinded by a sudden flame, Liza screamed again, then watched as Rufus tried for all he was worth to stamp out the fire before tearing into Clement like a madman.
Rushing him like a bull would his worst enemy, butting him in the stomach with his head, Rufus knocked Clement to the floor, shouting and growling nonstop, beating Clement’s face to a pulp, while flames curled up around their rolling bodies, shooting higher in the room.
Fear coiled like a serpent in the pit of Liza’s stomach as she watched first one chair go up in a fiery blaze and then its accompanying desk. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that her parents should perish in a fire, and now she would, as well. A raspy cough expelled from her lungs as she looked about the cloudy room, realizing the closed up windows would not allow for any fresh air. The school door, slightly ajar, seemed only to feed the flames.
With alarm, Liza realized they were in the middle of an inferno, and it wouldn’t take long for the flames to consume them all.
“Dear Father, help us!” she screamed to the heavens.
***
Ben sipped a cup of coffee on Emma’s porch, Molly on his knee, a blanket covering her. Lili was in the house with Emma, helping her and Little Hickman’s newest citizen bake a batch of Christmas cookies.
Jon had joined him, coat collar flipped up to cover his exposed neck. “It’s cold out here. What are you doing?” he asked, taking a seat beside Ben.
“Just getting a dose of fresh air, enjoying December’s sunshine.”
“Heard a beautiful lady arrived on today’s stage.” Jon took his time settling into the chair.
“So
that’s why you’re here,” Ben said with a chuckle.
“Just curious is all,” he answered.
“Yeah, well, it’s a long story, but the mail-order bride I sent for and then reneged on just happened to arrive today.”
Jon bolted upright, then turned to gape in the window behind him. “You aren’t going to—”
“No, I’m not going to marry her,” Ben interrupted, thinking it strange that a man who was bent on gaining the schoolteacher’s full attention wouldn’t want to marry off every other eligible man in town.
“Well, praise the Lord,” Jon exclaimed, looking toward the heavens. “It’s time you concentrated your efforts on the woman you really love, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Ben asked, leaning forward.
“Anyone can see that you have eyes for Liza. Why are you dragging your feet with her?”
Confusion ran deep. “I thought you…”
Jon laughed. “Liza’s a wonderful friend, yes, but I think God has another woman better suited—”
“Fire!” A young lad came running up the sidewalk, his eyes full of panicked excitement. “The schoolhouse is on fire!”
***
All was quiet, save the roaring flames that hissed and sizzled everywhere, consuming everything, including Liza’s will to stay awake. Hot, so hot.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound…
Her throat, parched and dry, failed to swallow.
Lord, I’m coming home…
There was no air left to take into her lungs, only hot, burning, gray clouds.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…
“Miss Merriwether.” The strangled voice came from somewhere nearby. “It’s me, Rufus. We have—to—get out of here.”
When Liza struggled to see, she glimpsed the poor boy lying at her feet.
Father, help—us.
Door slamming open, pounding footsteps, earsplitting yelling, and—what? Was it the angel Gabriel come to take her home?
Big arms, so big, lifted both her and the chair, as if they weighed little more than a few measly pounds. This was the angel Gabriel. Sweet peace filled her soul.
“Gabriel—please—you must—go back for—Rufus.”
But those few words were all she managed before her world went black as night.
***
“Any change?”
Ben turned his head in the little room off Doc’s office to find Jon looming over him.
He shook his head in response. It was all he could manage due to the exhaustion running through his veins.
It’d been two days of continuous sleep for Liza and unbroken vigilance for him. Even though Doc and everyone else who’d stopped by had told Ben to go home, he’d refused.
Even Mrs. Winthrop, who’d hovered briefly in the doorway, ringing her hands with worry and something else, had told him he should get some rest. “I don’t intend to leave the woman I plan to marry, Mrs. Winthrop.”
“Oh my!” she’d gasped. “Well…” Perhaps it was for purposes of shocking her that he’d made the hasty announcement. Whatever, the look on her face had afforded him a brief thrill. But then she’d smiled and softened. “Well, that’s good news then, isn’t it?”
He’d eyed her with suspicion. “For me it is. I hope it will be for her.”
She had granted him a clueless look. “You haven’t asked her yet?” He’d shaken his head. “Well, I wouldn’t worry. It will all work out as God sees fit.”
To that, he’d blinked his eyes in disbelief. “I thank you for that, Mrs. Winthrop.” Then, “Mrs. Bartel and Rosie…”
“They’ve gone on back to Angus now… As much as I tried to talk that woman out of going home… Well, I suppose she loves him…in her way.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
She’d left soon after.
“No signs of pneumonia?” Jon asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Again, Ben shook his head. “We’re turning her often, putting sips of water down her throat, forcing her to expel the soot.”
Jon placed a hand to Ben’s shoulder. “Courage, my friend. Courage. God didn’t bring her this far to let her go. I’m confident of that.”
Ben nodded and ran a hand along the back of his neck.
“You should let me sit with her awhile,” Jon offered.
Ben tipped a glance upward to eye his friend. “And take the chance that when she wakes, you will be the first man that she sees? Forget it.” To that, he managed a weak chuckle.
Jon gave a knowing smile. “How are your girls faring?”
“They’re staying at Emma’s, and between her and Sarah Woodward, they’re faring quite well. Turns out Sarah’s a mighty fine lady,” Ben said, surprised himself by her untold benevolence.
“God truly does work out all things for His good and in His time frame.”
“Now if He would just wake her up,” Ben said, eyeing his sleeping princess.
“Patience is a virtue, my friend. Ever hear that?”
Without forethought for the sleeping patient, Ben burst into riotous laughter, a culmination of all his pent up emotions and his bundle of tightly drawn nerves.
Although Jon failed to see the humor, he entered into the situation with gusto.
***
Laughter, Ben’s laughter, made Liza’s heart flutter with hope and expectancy.
Had she entered heaven’s gates by way of Gabriel’s strong arms with Ben following close behind? The last thing she remembered was those powerful arms carrying her away…away.
“Ben…” she muttered through closed, dry lips. So hard to move, impossible even to swallow for the fire burning deep in her throat.
The laughing ceased, but oh, how she missed its melodious pitch, reverberating her being, making her feel vibrant, making her long to open her heavy eyelids and view her surroundings.
“Liza? Are you waking up?” Ben’s voice massaged her ear, tickling her lobe.
“Liza, can you open your eyes? It’s Jon.”
Jon? Surely, he had not followed through heaven’s gate, as well.
“How is she?” This second voice brought her up short. Where was she, and why was she reclining on a—hard mattress?
“She seems to be trying to wake up, Doc,” said Ben, the tenor of his voice changing, lifting.
“That’s good. Liza? It’s Doc Randolph. You’re in my office and doing just fine. You’ve been resting since the fire. But you’ll soon be feeling good as new.”
His words trailed off as she pondered that one word—fire.
Fire? So hot, so parched. Need help, oh, God, please—help—us.
“Water.” The need to quench her thirst swiftly surpassed everything else, her curiosity, her pain, even her need to escape.
“Water, she wants water,” Ben cried. Sudden movement rocked her bed, made her eyes flutter and her fingers tingle. Fingers. Yes, there they were on the ends of her hands—feeling, touching—the woolen fabric of her—blanket.
A strong hand, familiar and real, reached behind her head and gently lifted.
“Here’s some water, sweetheart.”
Wet and wonderful, she lapped it up, leaning into its source, longing for more.
“That’s enough for now, honey.”
Sweetheart? Honey? If she’d had any doubts before, they were gone now. She was in heaven, and Ben was at her side.
Again, she tried to lift her eyelids, but they seemed immovable, heavy.
“Here, how’s this?”
A soothing cloth, cool and moist, trailed a delicious circular pattern over her face, relieving cracked lips and encrusted eyelids, slowly but surely bringing her back to a place of sameness. She made a slit in her eyelids, then closed them up tight again. Too bright. Then just as slowly, she tried again, this time going a little further until she made out the shape of three figures, all hovering close, shadowed by the overhead light.
“She’s waking up,” said Ben, his voice now taking on a husky quality, packed wi
th emotion. “Liza?”
“Ben?” she said, choking with the use of untested vocal chords.
“Water. Here, try another sip,” he suggested, lifting her head just slightly again and tipping the cool tin cup to her lips. The liquid slid down easier this time, refreshing her parched tongue and throat.
Coming fully awake now, she lay there in the strange little sterile room surrounded by glass-enclosed cabinets housing bottles of every size on one side of the room, and on the other, bookshelves. A stethoscope hung on a hook near her bed, along with various other medical supplies and equipment. Next to her bed was a tray with a variety of paraphernalia—bandaging materials, scissors, tape, and some sort of antiseptic ointment.
Satisfied that she was among the living, she took in a raspy breath. “There was a fire,” she stated simply.
“Yes, there was.” This from Jon. Ben sat next to her, holding her hand and making little circles on it with the pad of his thumb.
“The s-school?” she managed.
“The school is gone, Liza,” Doc Randolph said.
Waves of regret swept over her. “Oh, dear. All the s-supplies and books and…” Her gaze traveled to Jon. “…our Sunday meeting place.”
Jon smiled and leaned forward. “Believe it or not, the Winthrops have offered their expansive house as a means for meeting on Sundays. It will be crowded, but we’ll make do until we erect a new building.”
With the realization that she was truly alive came a fresh flood of memories, all washing over her at once, filling her head with unanswered questions.
“Rufus?” she asked, dreading the answer yet needing it more than anything.
“Rufus is young and strong,” said Doc. “I’m on my way out there now. His mother and father are doing a fine job of caring for him.”
“Mr. Baxter?” Liza asked. “Has he been good to Rufus?”
“Far as I can tell,” Doc said. “Can’t always predict how these hill folk will act, but I do believe they’re proud of Rufus for the stand he took against Clement. Some might call him a hero.”
Panic thundered through her body at the mention of Clement. Ben must have sensed it, for he squeezed her hand and looked at Jon and Doc. “I’d appreciate some privacy.”