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  “Well, let’s eat before it spoils,” Dolly chided, hustling the girl on down the hall.

  The smell of vegetable stew filled the kitchen. Pouring some water in a basin, Mary began to wash her hands and face. A charcoal portrait of her parents hung on the wall nearby.

  The man in the picture was older, but with a black mustache and far more hair on his head than Mary could ever remember. The woman beside him was a beauty and much younger than the man. Mary wondered what had drawn the two together.

  Settling at the table, she asked, “Mother, how did you and Daddy meet?”

  “Gracious, child! What makes you ask that?”

  “Oh, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things this afternoon, and I just saw your picture on the wall again.”

  Mary learned much that evening. Dolly, more patient than usual, spoke of her past. The time was ripe for the women to share intimate thoughts together.

  “Tinker” had been an old and lonely man when Dolly had met him. Dolly had been young, beautiful, and orphaned. Raised by an overbearing aunt, Dolly had sought to escape her seeming bondage.

  When Tinker showed the young Dolly kindness, she jumped. The two of them were married before either of them knew what was happening. It wasn’t long, however, before Dolly became impatient with her husband. They seldom went to any social functions together. If Dolly wanted to dance, she went alone, though she was never short of partners. Men would bring her home late at night. This arrangement seemed to work quite well for several years, until Dolly became pregnant. Parties and dances were set aside to care for the new little girl.

  Tinker doted on the new arrival, yielding to her every whim, smiling at her tantrums and peevish behavior. Dolly had been little better at curbing her daughter’s behavior, for it mirrored her own.

  Mother and daughter ate, chatted, washed dishes, and prepared for bed. Dolly opened her heart to Mary as never before, and when Mary finally slipped under the covers of her old bed, she was exhausted. She had learned so much, but all that information only created more questions. Dolly had remained silent about her pregnancy and Tinker’s reaction to it. Mary struggled with a growing suspicion in her mind. Was that lovable, doting old man her real father? She slipped into uneasy sleep as outside the sky darkened around the tiny store on Orchard Creek Avenue.

  The men with John Stafford put in a long march, even though they had not started until late afternoon. Finally they were allowed to stop for the night. They made camp beside the main road in Amity called the Greenway.

  Camp was settling quickly when a voice rang out clear in the calm night air. “Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised, in the city of our God, in the mountain of his holiness.” Many voices took up the chorus. One song led to another, until a trumpet brayed and silence fell. Still, a rich, sweet sense of peace settled among the tired men, and they slept soundly.

  Bill Cotton and Bob Walton lingered over their meal of hard bread, cheese, and raisins and then talked until nearly dark. Upon rejoining their own units, they found their last night in Capri under the stars less than comfortable.

  The men chosen to stay in Capri were not idle. While Bill slept, preparations were made to restock the troops passing through town early the next morning. Large quantities of cheese, bread, and raisin cakes were acquired and packaged. Huge containers were filled with fresh water. Extra water skins were collected. Everything was transported to a location east of town. Yet for many, the night passed slowly.

  Light had not yet begun to tint the eastern sky when the men of Capri were roused for final preparations and inspection. They ate breakfast and checked packs and gear, and their units were repositioned.

  The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as the men stood, row by row, unit by unit, awaiting the inspection of Commander Barker.

  Barker was a likeable man but aloof to most. Short in stature, he was decisive and abrupt in his actions. He had wiry black hair, intimidating black eyes, and a thick black mustache that made him quite a spectacle to behold. The authority with which he spoke left no question as to who was in charge.

  He paced up and down the rows of men, carefully checking their posture and weapons. Occasionally he would order a knapsack lowered to check its contents and the order in which they had been packed.

  During inspection, Bill saw Mary out of the corner of his eye. She was pacing slowly around the town square, searching for Bill among the men. Her hair was loose and was tossed by the brisk morning breeze. She was wrapped in a shawl to protect her from the cold.

  Finally she found Bill among the men, and she waved. He wanted to break ranks and run to her, but he allowed himself only a smile. Barker was nearing his unit for inspection.

  Bill realized that Mary must have slipped out of the house quite early and without her mother’s knowledge. Something about that caused a great peace to settle around his heart. He knew Mary loved him, and her presence here this morning was her way of telling him. If only he could assure her that he understood.

  Bill’s eyes strayed from Mary, and he was shocked to see Commander Barker standing in front of him, staring into his eyes. Barker watched Bill for a moment, turned to look at Mary, and quickly looked back at Bill. Bill’s eyes were riveted upon the black and gold helm of the man standing in front of him.

  Barker opened his mouth as if to speak. Bill wondered if the commander had seen and heard Mary’s angry display yesterday. Perhaps Barker could read the meaning of Mary’s presence now. Maybe he was even thinking about allowing Bill to say a decent farewell to his wife, but considering all the others who would have liked to say goodbye one more time, Bill thrust aside any hope. As if reading Bill’s thoughts, Commander Barker sighed and moved on down the line.

  With inspection complete, the men were set at ease. Bill turned to gaze at Mary, and she could see the hunger in his eyes. She understood that the men could not leave their positions and that she would not be able to hold Bill in her arms, but the look in his eyes told her she was forgiven. Warmth flooded her soul, filling her with a joy she had not felt in many days. She was beginning to realize that although Bill felt driven to do his duty, he had no desire to leave her side.

  It seemed like only moments before a rider dashed into town, dismounting at Commander Barker’s side. The two men spoke briefly before the horseman remounted and rode swiftly into the sunrise.

  At Barker’s command, the men snapped to attention. A great gray horse bearing a large, gray-bearded man came into view. On his right was a horseman bearing the standard of Amity, a golden cross on a field of black, which fluttered freely in the morning breeze. The horses stepped lively, and close at their heels marched the trained and efficient men of Stonewall.

  A rousing cheer broke from the crowd rapidly gathering along the streets. Mary found herself drawn into the emotion of the moment. Black-helmed men, smartly bearing shield and spear, marched rapidly past. Row upon row of leather-clad feet churned the street into a cloud of choking dust. The men farther back in the columns wore a cloth over their noses and mouths to keep the dust from their lungs. Only their eyes showed, giving them a fierce and impersonal appearance.

  Mary shuddered. Would it require all of these men to hold back the threat of an invasion? The threat must be far greater than she had imagined.

  The last row of men marched past. A trumpet sounded, and the men of Capri stepped into the street. Marching to the cadence call, they turned west into a cloud of dust.

  She watched until the last row of men disappeared. The sun had climbed into the morning sky, dispelling the cold, but a chill pressed around her heart that no amount of sunshine could dispel. Turning toward Dolly’s, she knew she was in for a scolding, but still she was glad she had come.

  She walked briskly, the boarded homes and businesses bothering her less than they had yesterday. Her thoughts were upon Bill and the countless men she had seen marching through town. What cou
ld require so many men? What would they face? And would they ever return?

  Mary wondered if all those men had left wives behind, and if those women felt as deserted as she felt. It had never occurred to her that others might be making a sacrifice too. Stung by this revelation, she began to feel very small and selfish.

  Lost in thought, Mary found herself at her mother’s door. Stopping for a moment to gather her wits, she grasped the handle, lifted the latch, and stepped inside.

  CHAPTER 11

  The Road to War

  The monotonous march became hypnotic after a while, and though Bill was used to working in the sun all day, there was no escape from the heat, humidity, and dust. They made good time to Highland, which was only a few miles west of Capri. There they were joined by three hundred mounted horsemen and two hundred saddled horses. It was no surprise that the officers received the mounts.

  The men from Highland formed a roughneck cavalry. They were untrained in warfare, but they were excellent horsemen and rugged individuals. They fell in behind the foot soldiers, though, for their horses stirred up a great deal of dust on the powdery road.

  No clouds blocked the sun, and no breeze cooled their sweat. Doggedly the men of Amity marched on. They took short breaks every hour, sipping water from their pouches, trying to cool their throats and wash the dust from their mouths.

  It was during these breaks that Bill became better acquainted with the men in his unit. Larry Chavez was at Bill’s left. He had curly black hair and a thick black mustache that nearly hid rows of pearly-white teeth. He marched with undaunted enthusiasm. For Larry, this was just another adventure.

  Chavez had been orphaned early and had grown up footloose and fancy-free. He had no father figure in his life except for a sea merchant by the name of Gammel, who had hired him while he was still a boy. Chavez had made a good sailor and stayed with Gammel for several years, but being as unpredictable as the sea, Chavez had left Gammel in search of adventure. Working flatboats on the river, he traversed all of Amity and much of the western wilds. Living in field or shrub, tavern or pub, Larry’s love of Barleyman Malt kept him in brawls, out of work, and drifting from job to job.

  Larry had been loafing in Capri, waiting for the wheat harvest, when he’d heard about the army’s need for men. The next morning he enlisted.

  Darren Ogilbe was on Bill’s right. Tall and slender, no razor had touched his boyish face. His family lived north of Capri on Orchard Creek and tended orchards there. They also had a large cider press, and Ogilbe Cider was well known in Capri.

  Darren was not adventurous like Chavez. He had joined the army because he thought the family should be represented, and his father and brothers were too busy with the farm.

  Maybe it was the small talk, or maybe it was the miserable march everyone endured, but as the day progressed, the men seemed to grow closer. They had learned teamwork and maneuvers in training, but slowly they were being molded into a cohesive unit of men who cared about each other.

  The afternoon became deadly hot. Water was running short, and though the river ran freely beside them, the officers would not let the men go near its inviting water. It was feared that the river contained “grip,” and no one wanted that. Fresh water and food were at Zaraphath, though they wouldn’t reach there until tomorrow. Everyone drank sparingly.

  The cool of dusk brought a quicker pace, but when darkness shrouded them completely, they finally came to a halt. They were six miles from Zaraphath, and five miles from fresh water. They would have to make do with what they had until the next day.

  There was little conversation as men prepared to sleep. Sentries were posted for the first time. The humid day, combined with the cool breeze, promised dew, so many men covered with their waterproof cloaks.

  The camp had grown very quiet when a voice rang out. “Jesus helped me through the day, in life’s toilsome weary way. Help me, Master, this I pray, to see the light of another day. Give me grace to make a start, help it come from Thy pure heart. Help me know within my soul, Your love so rich, Your grace so full. Fill me now so all can see that I’m in You and You’re in me.”

  Chavez rolled over and tapped Bill on the shoulder. “That’s a pretty song. Do you know anyone by that name?”

  “What do you mean?” Bill yawned.

  “Someone is singing a song about a guy named Jesus. Do you know Him?”

  “No,” Bill said. “I don’t know who was singing.”

  “I don’t care who was singing,” Larry said. “I want to know about Jesus. It sounds like I should get to know Him.”

  Their conversation attracted others, and a small group gathered. Bill had never really shared his faith before, except with Mary, and that hadn’t gone so well. He wasn’t sure how to begin. “Jesus is the creator of heaven and earth, and He lives in my heart,” Bill said awkwardly.

  Larry cleared his throat. “Let me get this straight, Bill. The creator of heaven and earth lives in your heart.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you get too hot today?”

  That brought laughter from the little group. Bill grinned too and started to roll over.

  “No, wait,” Larry pleaded. “I really want to know about this Jesus fellow!”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, I’m serious!”

  Bill lay back, resting on his elbows, and looked at the night sky. “Do you see those stars up there, Larry?”

  “Sure.”

  “Jesus made those! He made the mountains, the rivers, the earth, and the food we eat; and He made us too. Do you believe that, Larry?”

  “I don’t know! I never really thought about it,” was the honest reply.

  “Everything Jesus made has a purpose, Larry,” Bill said. “Your purpose and mine is to know the Almighty One and to fellowship with Him, but we can’t, because God is holy, and we are sinners. Jesus died to wash our sins away, and by accepting what Jesus has done, we are made clean so we can fellowship with our Lord. Does any of that make sense?”

  Larry shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “This is a little deep.”

  “Sorry!” Bill said. “I’ve never really shared my faith with anyone.”

  The first song ended, and another began. The night air swelled with the voices of a thousand men. Bill’s little group listened in awe until the bray of a trumpet brought silence ringing down over the camp.

  “I would like to hear more about Jesus tomorrow, Bill,” Chavez whispered.

  “I’ll try to fill you in,” Bill responded.

  Both men curled up under their cloaks and quickly fell asleep.

  They would not have slept so soundly if they had known that far away Jabin was making his move. Thousands of foreign troops were set to pour into Amity. They would swarm like locusts around Devia’s fortress and the four command posts of James’s garrison tomorrow morning. Master Devia had just returned from the council at Stonewall and was safe inside his fortress. John Stafford slept soundly with his men, and young James Stafford was about to begin the greatest test of his life. Amity was on the verge of war.

  The men of Amity were on the move before sunup. The snowcapped peaks of the Guardian Range turned deep red, then softened to pink, and finally glistened white by the time the soldiers reached the restock camp one mile east of Zaraphath. Gulping down water and refilling their water pouches, everyone wondered what the day would bring.

  The elevation was changing rapidly—not that they were in the foothills, but the mountains were much closer than they had been when the men had started out that morning. A cool breeze off the peaks filled the day with expectation.

  A quick meal and short break, and they were off. In no time they reached the outskirts of Zaraphath, the largest city between Waterfront and Green Meadow. The great smokestacks of the city belched smoke overhead, and the houses were pressed together more clo
sely than in any village downriver.

  The narrow streets of Zaraphath were packed with cheering crowds, for most of the population had decided to stay. Bill felt exuberant, until he saw the thousands of soldiers standing at attention in crisp, clean uniforms, looking fresh and ready for action. Bill glanced at his own dust-caked apparel and felt very common. Though he did not realize it, he was becoming a veteran of the road.

  Bill groaned inwardly as Larry Chavez made his way toward him during a water break. He sighed and smiled. It’s not that I don’t like Larry, Bill thought. It’s just that I don’t know what to say. Placing one’s trust in Jesus is so important, but I don’t know how to tell him what he needs to know. Boy, I feel like an idiot.

  “Hey, Bill!” Larry called. “Tell me more about Jesus! How did he come? Was he born, or did he just appear?”

  “Larry, I’m not very good at this. There’s probably someone a lot smarter than me that could help you with your questions,” Bill responded.

  “I don’t really know anyone else, Bill, and you seem like a real guy to me,” Larry confided. “Not everybody likes me, but you don’t seem to mind me.”

  Bill laughed. “Larry, I like you just fine. All right, where do we start?”

  And so Bill Cotton and others in the group began to share with Larry Chavez the story of Jesus Christ: His birth, His life, His death, and His resurrection. It made the morning pass quickly.

  It was the last break before lunch, and Larry was still asking questions. “You said something about Jesus living inside you last night, Bill. What were you talking about?”

  “When you accept who Jesus is and what he has done, the Holy Spirit comes to live inside you! The Spirit brings love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and self-control—and a confidence that things will turn out all right.”

  “Bill, that may be all right for you, but if this Spirit lives in you, how can he be in me or anyone else?”

  “Good question, Larry.” Bill marveled at the thoughtful questions Chavez had asked. He had not thought of that. He drew a deep breath and a thought suddenly hit him.