Unwilling Warrior

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “Well—” Valerie hoped to see words of love from her husband.

  “Why don’t you read it first and then decide whether you’d like to share it?”

  With an incline of her head, Valerie walked into the kitchen and sat down at the small table. She noticed the letter was dated a month ago.

  Dearest Valerie,

  I am writing to you from Mississippi, and if you’re reading this, it means you arrived in Jericho Junction. I hope you will come to love the town and my family as much as I do.

  Clint and I left New Orleans last week. I trust you received the wire I sent to the Widewater Inn about your father’s death. You have my deepest sympathies. Please know that Cousin Max stayed with him until the end. He promised, and I hereby do as well, to uphold you in prayer.

  Meanwhile, we have been following a Confederate regiment as we press northward and search for Luke.

  Valerie quickly read the rest. Benjamin had written about his travels, detailing the army regiment’s routine. It read like an impersonal newspaper article, and the disappointment she felt knotted in her chest. Why couldn’t he have penned the words “I love you”? Why couldn’t he have told her of his feelings and his plans for them? Even in closing he wrote “Sincerely yours.”

  Some St. Valentine’s Day this turned out to be!

  Rising from the chair, Valerie strode back to the drawing room and gave Benjamin’s letter to Becca.

  “Nothing in here you can’t read.”

  Valerie spun on her heels and ran upstairs to her room, closing the door behind her. Disillusionment rained from her eyes, and she wondered if, like her father, her husband would be a remote figure in her life. Obviously Benjamin didn’t love her and only married her out of guilt and pity. His kisses might belie her beliefs, but his words—or lack thereof—affirmed them. The McCabes were obviously against an annulment . . .

  Oh, God, show me what to do!

  Twenty

  I was in some hospital. I remember thinking I was going to die for sure. I wasn’t scared. Just in a whole lot of pain. A headache like nothing I ever felt.”

  “Well,” Ben drawled, “good thing that bullet sideswiped your head. Things could have been worse.”

  “Go on.” Luke gave him a brotherly shove.

  Ben smiled as they walked up Main Street in Stanford, heading for the post office. It was good to see his brother coming around. “I’m guessing maybe you were injured at Bull Run. Otherwise you’d have found Clint and me after the battle.”

  “I reckon so.”

  Per the doctor’s orders he’d had a shave and a haircut. He now resembled the kid brother Ben knew so well. And that sorry wound on his face had begun to heal up nicely too, thanks to Dr. Birmingham’s skill.

  “Don’t know how I got hooked up with the First Ohio, though. Seems one day I was just there in camp.”

  Ben detected a far-off note in Luke’s voice—one he’d come to recognize in the last week as a good sign. A piece of memory always seemed to come back after Luke mentally chewed on something awhile. He now knew his name and remembered family members in Jericho Junction, along with most of his past. But this last year’s events still eluded him, specifically the timetable that marked his disappearance.

  “So tell me more about this new wife of yours,” Luke said with a grin. “Hope she’s nothing like the last woman you brought home.

  “You remember Gwyneth, huh?” Ben tossed him a glance. He’d given Luke one of his white shirts, a tan vest, and coordinating trousers to wear until they could wash his clothes. He looked right respectable today. “I shouldn’t have pursued that woman. Any fool could see she wasn’t the right one for me. Finally this fool saw the light—praise the Lord for that.”

  “Amen.”

  Ben shook his head. “But in answer to your question, no, Valerie’s nothing like Gwyneth. She’s sweet and caring. Loves the Lord.” He smiled wryly. “And she adores me.”

  “Love is blind.”

  The quip earned Luke a sock in the arm.

  He laughed. “So, what are your plans for the future, now that you’re a married man?”

  “Well, funny you should ask. I’ve been thinking along those lines for some time now.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Once I get home—” Ben grinned. “—I plan to take my wife in my arms and kiss her like she’s never been kissed.” He shared a chuckle with Luke. “And then I hope to find a house somewhere, one with a pretty yard and little white fence, and Clint and I are talking about opening our own photographist studio—just like the one we saw in New Orleans.”

  “Got to have townspeople for a photographist studio, don’t you?”

  “The people are going to come. Jericho Junction has been growing steadily.”

  “That’s right. I remember last fall when Pa told us about it, how there’ll be a need for more businesses and how Mr. Crenshaw at the bank is willing to help—leastwise he was before the war.”

  Entering the post office, Ben checked for a telegram. Nothing. It bothered him that he didn’t hear back from Jericho Junction. He prayed Valerie was all right. He wished she’d wire a few words to him. Clint had received a message from Em telling him she felt fine. Not to worry. Of course he did anyway, being a first-time expectant father.

  “Well, I reckon no news is good news.” Luke clapped him between the shoulder blades.

  “You sure are filled with platitudes today.” Ben sent him an annoyed glance, although he had to admit it was a miracle that his brother stood by his side.

  As for Valerie, it wouldn’t be long until he was home.

  ***

  As she looked off into the east, Valerie recalled her father once saying, “Red sky at morning is a sailor’s warning. Red sky at night is a seaman’s delight.” She smiled to herself, thinking the dawn waxed scarlet across the horizon. Perhaps they’d see rain today.

  Reaching the barn, Valerie hoisted the lantern onto a nail. “It’s me again, Tulip.” She ran her hand along the cow’s side, then sat down on the low stool and adjusted her skirts. Next she blew into her palms before rubbing them together. Milking a cow wasn’t exactly Valerie’s favorite pastime, but she promised to help Sarah with the chore. After several near-catastrophic attempts, Valerie had learned to warm her hands before grasping Tulip’s teats. She’d also figured out how to pull down just right and squeeze in order to fill the awaiting pail underneath the animal’s udder. In the last two weeks, she’d chased chickens around the yard and overcome her fear of the rooster in order to gather eggs—which proved more than Catherine could say. The rooster pecked at her, and Lilac and Tulip, the cows, kicked her. Valerie just tried to stay out of the poor woman’s way.

  She let go of a sigh of regret. It seemed Catherine would never forgive and forget. The McCabes continually reasoned with her, and Jake had talked to her a couple of weeks ago when she’d accompanied him to the St. Valentine’s Day dance. Sarah and Leah made attempts and reached out. Emily scolded her. No words could soften Catherine’s defenses now that hatred had fortified them. But the real cannonball came when Catherine had been denied a teaching position at Jericho Junction’s school. Her world was rocked off its axis—

  And Valerie knew exactly how that felt!

  Someone’s whistling reached her ears, signaling that she and the animals weren’t the only ones in the barn. With Tulip’s milking completed, Valerie lifted the pail and headed toward Lilac’s stall. The whistling grew softer, but she didn’t know who it belonged to. By the timbre she guessed it was either her father-in-law or Jake. Curious, she set down the pail and followed after the tune “Amazing Grace.”

  “Hello!”

  No answer. Obviously he hadn’t heard her call.

  Valerie made her way around the wagon. “Good morning!” She walked into a part of the large barn she’d never seen before. A golden glow from the back corner drew her. Soon she found herself in a small room, surrounded by unfinished wooden furniture. A lantern hung from a large iron h
ook and Jake stood several feet away, rolling up his sleeves. When he spotted her, he ceased his whistling.

  “Mornin’.” His gaze fell over her. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I told Sarah I’d help with the milking this morning.”

  He shook his dark-brown head. “You’re helping to spoil that girl.”

  Valerie rolled her shoulders. Right now the smooth, sanded surface of a chest of drawers held her attention. “So this is where you hide out.”

  He grinned.

  “You’re quite a good carpenter, you know. I’ve admired some of the pieces you made in the house.”

  “High praise, coming from a woman who’s lived her life surrounded by fine furniture.”

  She folded her arms and tipped her head. “Do you hold that against me, Jake? I keep thinking you compare me to Gwyneth Merriweather, and that’s not fair.”

  Jake rubbed his jaw in momentary thought. “Maybe you’re right. I apologize.”

  “Accepted.” Valerie liked Jake even though he could be exasperating at times. Her gaze suddenly honed in on the beginnings of a rocking horse. “Are you making this for Josiah?”

  “Yes, but it’s a secret. I want to surprise Leah—and Jon too—next Christmas. Josiah will be old enough to enjoy the toy by then.”

  “I’m sure he’ll love it. You’re a thoughtful uncle. In fact, I think you’re a thoughtful man. I’m surprised some woman hasn’t snatched you up for her husband.”

  He laughed. “And what woman do you think would want a man with a bum leg?”

  “Jacob—” Valerie was taken aback by the question. “The rest of you is fine, and not many men are as talented as you are with woodworking.” She felt like teasing him for a change. “And you’re handsome and charming . . . exasperating too. Bossy . . . and did I mention exasperating?”

  “Yes, well . . . my list of attributes is endless.” He smiled at his sarcasm.

  “If I weren’t so in love with Benjamin, I’d probably be interested in you.”

  His gaze met hers, and she saw a mix of alarm and curiosity in his stare.

  “My point is you’re not as undesirable as you think. Even if you are . . . exasperating.”

  “Hmm . . . thanks.”

  Valerie gave her head a toss for good measure. “A bum leg is the least of your problems.”

  “I get it. I get it.” He held both hands up in surrender.

  Valerie liked the feel of victory.

  With a grin, Jake moved to sit on a tall stool. He picked up a piece of wood and turned it in his palm. “If you’re so in love with Ben, why did you refuse to send him a telegraph message?”

  She thought it over. “Two reasons, really. I have far too much to say to Benjamin. It wouldn’t fit on a telegram. Second, I want to confront him face-to-face.”

  “Confront him?”

  Valerie nodded and squared her shoulders. “The truth is, I fear your brother married me out of a sense of obligation. If he wants an annulment, I’ll give it to him. If not, I have a list of demands.”

  “List of demands, huh?” Jake shook his head. “I thought you heard Pa when he said a vow is vow.”

  “I heard. And I prayed about it. Unfortunately, there’s nothing in the Bible about annulments. It’s a legal matter, and the Lord said that we should follow the laws of the land. On a personal level, I refuse to be locked into a loveless marriage.”

  “Whoowee! This ought to be interesting when Ben gets home.” Jake narrowed his gaze. “But how do you know Ben doesn’t love you?”

  “He had plenty of chances to tell me, and he didn’t.” She frowned. Or did he? She’d been in such a state of shock that day.

  “Are you happy here in Jericho Junction?”

  “I’m adjusting. Don’t you think so?” Valerie dropped her hands into the pockets of her smock. “I’ve been working hard.”

  “That’s for sure. No one can say you’re not pulling your weight.” He chuckled. “But you’re not such a good cook.”

  “I’m learning.” Valerie shifted her weight, recalling the burned biscuits last night and the near disaster a few days ago when she’d tried to bake a cake. Thankfully Leah came to her rescue since Becca was away and Catherine proved little help.

  “My poor brother might starve to death before you master the oven.”

  “Oh, hush.” Valerie wasn’t worried. Em said Ben knew how to cook well enough to survive, and they could always come and visit here. Becca reminded her of that fact often. “Speaking of ovens—” Valerie paused and sniffed. “I smell something.” She suddenly remembered the lantern she’d left unattended. “Oh, Lord, no!” She whirled around and ran but only made it a short distance before she saw the smoke and flames. “Jacob!” She screamed. “The barn’s on fire!”

  For a man with a permanently injured leg, he moved quickly. He steered her toward the rear side door. “Run and get help.”

  She fled the barn and sprinted across the yard. A mix of guilt and confusion roiled inside of her. She’d left the lantern on the other side of the barn, near Tulip’s stall. The fire came from the stacks of hay bales adjacent to the wagon.

  “Reverend McCabe! Bear! Help! Fire! Fire!”

  Her cries successfully roused the household. Emily and Leah ran from the parsonage too.

  “Is everyone accounted for?” Reverend McCabe shouted out the question.

  “Jake’s still in the barn.” Panic assailed her as Valerie looked to where black smoke now billowed from the double doors. Bear filled buckets with water from the rain barrel.

  “Where’s Catherine?” Becca’s eyes darted around.

  “She’s not upstairs in our room,” Sarah said. “I just came from up there.”

  A sick feeling wafted over Valerie. Had Catherine been in the barn too?

  “Jake!” Reverend McCabe fought the smoke while Becca clung to his shirttails. “Son, can you hear me?”

  “You can’t go in there, Daniel!” Becca cried.

  Bear pushed a bucket into Valerie’s chest, nearly knocking the wind out of her, but she managed to hand off the bucket to Becca, who tearfully passed it to her husband.

  “Jake! Catherine!” Reverend McCabe walked in far enough to toss the water at the flames. He returned, coughing from the smoke until the next bucket was given to him.

  “Pa! Look!” Sarah went running toward the same door that Valerie had exited. “Pa, it’s Jake . . . and Catherine!”

  Valerie gaped at the sight. Through the haze of smoke came Jacob, and he carried Catherine’s limp form in his arms.

  ***

  That evening a somber atmosphere filled the drawing room. Valerie puttered with her needlepoint while Em, Leah, and Sarah busied themselves with their sewing. Bear stayed outside to tend to the last of the fire. Jake helped. His burns hadn’t been serious, thank God! However, despite all efforts, the barn was a complete loss. The fire took the lives of livestock and the McCabes’ wagon, harnesses, and farming equipment. All of Jake’s carpentry projects went up in flames as well.

  And then Catherine . . . the doctor and Becca were upstairs with her now. It appeared her burns were extensive.

  “I felt the baby move this morning.” Emily set her knitting down. She apparently wanted to lighten the mood. “It was the most exciting thing, like a smooth, rolling sensation. I guess that’s the best way to describe it.” She smiled.

  “Must be doing somersaults in there,” Leah teased. “Probably a boy.”

  Emily had a dreamy expression on her face. “I wouldn’t mind giving Clint a boy. Not one bit. But I wouldn’t mind a girl either.”

  Valerie wondered if she and Benjamin would ever have children. She wanted to be a mother someday. Each time she watched Leah cradle little Josiah, she desired a baby of her own.

  “Perhaps we should all say another prayer for Catherine,” Sarah said, changing the subject. “I keep remembering how bad she looked when Bear carried her upstairs.”

  “She tried to kill Valerie.” Emily
raised her chin. “It’s hard to feel pity for someone so loathsome.”

  Disbelief shook Valerie’s being. “Tried to kill me? Do you really think it’s possible?”

  Emily’s expression was one of regret. “Yes, I do.”

  “We don’t know if the fire was set on purpose,” Leah put in. “Let’s give Catherine the benefit of the doubt.”

  Valerie tried, but she couldn’t help but wonder . . . was Catherine really capable of attempting murder?

  “Either way, this is the time when we must pity her.” Leah folded her sewing and laid it in her lap. “You know, just because a woman is a preacher’s daughter and listened to sermon after sermon while growing up doesn’t mean she actually heard a word of them and believed God’s Word.”

  Sarah came to sit on the arm of Valerie’s chair.

  Leah continued, “So even more’s the reason we must pray for Catherine.”

  Valerie felt somewhat guilty for having jumped to conclusions.

  Heads bowed, Leah began, asking the Great Physician to heal Catherine’s body, mind, and soul. Emily prayed next.

  But when it came time for Valerie to pray, she found it difficult to ask for mercy for someone who may have wanted her dead. And when the words did enter her heart, they weren’t for Catherine per se. “Lord, please help me forgive so bitterness doesn’t rule my heart. Give me a meek and gentle spirit so I can be of help in Catherine’s convalescence—”

  Sarah wrapped up the short prayer session. Then just as they finished praying, Becca and Dr. Owens walked into the room.

  Everyone stood.

  “Catherine’s going to lose her right hand.” Tears glistened in Becca’s eyes.

  Valerie covered her mouth to retain her gasp. Her gaze glided to the pianoforte, and she thought of how Catherine would never play again.

  “There’s significant tissue, vascular, and muscle damage to the right hand. It warrants amputation.” Dr. Owens, a bearded, gray-haired man, didn’t seem to mince his words. “It must come off to save the patient’s life. The surgery will be first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, Miss Elliot has a long recovery ahead of her. She’s suffered burns to her chest, belly, and thighs. If not properly treated, the burned area could become infected, and that may threaten Miss Elliot’s life.”