Beyond the Fire Read online

  John opened his window and felt the breeze as it blew in from the sea. Suddenly, he heard a voice shouting from one of the many watchtowers at Stonewall. “Rider coming!”

  John hurried down the stairs and out into the courtyard. People were just beginning to stir in the kitchen and the stables, but things were already busy down at the ferry.

  Being located on an island, Stonewall was completely separated from the mainland. The Crescent River ran its course through nearly all of Amity, cutting the country into north and south, but at Stonewall it split and poured into the sea around both sides of the castle. The towns of Sebring and Waterfront were on either side of the river, and large wooden rafts were used to ferry people and goods across the river.

  Two men hurried from one of Stonewall’s guardrooms to man “the tug,” a name people called the ferry. On either side of the river, there was a large wooden spool of heavy rope, with the free ends attached to opposite sides of a large wooden raft. Whenever people wanted to pass from Waterfront to Stonewall, they used the ferry. Stout young men on either side of the river pulled the raft toward Stonewall or back toward Waterfront.

  John noted unusual haste this morning. There was a horseman on the far side of the river, urging the lads and saying, “Pull, Dick! Harry, put your back to it, lad. I must see John quickly.”

  The young men on Stonewall’s bank pulled heartily to turn their wooden spool and slowly draw the raft to their side of the river.

  Reaching Stonewall’s shore, the man urged his lathered mount up the slope and through the gate. “Thank you, lads. That was a good pull so early this morning! Is the master of the house up?”

  “I think so,” Harry said. “He told us to be on the lookout for a messenger, though I’m not sure he knew it would be today.”

  “May I take your horse?” a stable boy asked, running to meet the man riding a huge black mare. Horses were not plentiful in this region of Amity, and this great steed rivaled any horse in the master’s stable.

  “Aye, but give her a good rubbing! She’s had a bit of a run. She could use some oats, if you have any to spare.”

  “Yes, sir!” the lad said, leading the heaving horse toward the stables.

  John saw the man turn toward him as he hurried up the path.

  “John Stafford! Bless me, if it isn’t good to see you.”

  John grabbed the rider’s hand and gave it a hearty shake. “Greenwold, what are you doing, waking the countryside? Have you news? Come, man. Let’s get a bite to eat, and then we can talk.”

  Leading the messenger to the house, John Stafford entered the kitchen and called to his cook. “We’ll have breakfast in the private room, please. Bring enough for two!”

  The men passed through a large dining hall with rows of tables flanked by benches. Opening a rough, wooden door, they entered a small room where a fire blazed in the hearth. Settling at the table, John studied the clear blue eyes of George Greenwold. “Is there trouble?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you’ve ridden this far just for a cup of coffee.”

  “Aye! There is trouble at Green Meadow. Jabin is encamped on the Western Slope.”

  John carefully maintained his calm countenance. “George, maybe you should start at the beginning,” he said quietly.

  Greenwold cleared his throat and stared into Stafford’s eyes. “Jabin and his cronies have pillaged farms west of Green Meadow. We don’t know how many villains are with him, but old Stanley got about twenty men together to investigate, and none of them returned. It was Stanley’s wife who told us. She and some other women came to the garrison to let us know. They were afraid to go home.”

  John felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. “I know Stanley, and I’ve met his wife,” he said. “Fear is not common among families on the Western Slope. The people who live there are tough and prepared. This is not good news.”

  Greenwold continued, “We’d seen smoke a few days before the ladies came, and when we checked it out, we found the Billings farmstead burned to ashes and the livestock driven off. But when Stanley’s wife made her report, we decided we had real trouble.”

  John sighed and stroked his graying beard. “Are you sure Jabin is behind this, or could it be the work of bandits?”

  “Jabin’s work or bandits, it’s all the same,” Greenwold growled. “You know Jabin is a thief and a liar.”

  “Wait!” John held up his hand as a servant carried a large tray into the room. “Thank you,” he said, but as an afterthought he motioned to the servant. “When you leave, will you tell a messenger to stay near our door? We may need him to run an errand soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” the girl responded as she set out plates filled with eggs, bacon, and huge slices of bread smothered in butter. Finally, she set two mugs of coffee before the men and asked, “Will you need anything else?”

  “I think not,” John said as he watched her leave the room. Turning his attention back to Greenwold, John spoke quietly. “Have you told me everything there is, or do you have a message from my son?”

  “I do,” Greenwold said. “James requests a council of all Amity, and he also asked for reinforcements. Only a few days ago, Gaff’s scouts reported a vast army moving south from Bashan, departing the Mountains of Despair and following the Great River. Gaff fears that if they stay on the river, they will hit Great Bend again. But if they leave the river at Deorn and travel south, they will hit Green Meadow.”

  “Have the members of Amity’s council been informed of James’s request?” John asked.

  “Aye! I have ridden hard and tarried little since leaving Green Meadow, but I stopped in each village along the way. Every town’s master has heard the summons to council. Representatives should be coming this very day. Your son wanted me to represent Green Meadow.”

  John’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “What about Master Devia?” John asked.

  “He may come, but your son and I feel his council is no longer to be trusted.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? Devia is twice your age, George. Why do you feel so strongly about a man who has weathered some hard times?”

  “If Master Devia does make an appearance, you will understand. Oh, I nearly forgot. I have not ridden through Northglen, Sebring, or Southglen. Could you send word for them to prepare for council as soon as the sun sets tomorrow? By then your son may already be at war.”

  John rose and walked to the door. He spoke briefly with the man stationed in the hall and then closed the door again. He returned to Greenwold. “You know more, don’t you?”

  “Aye,” George replied and leaned back in his chair. “I’ll share it all with you, but maybe we should eat this food before it gets cold.”

  The sun grew hot before the two parted company.

  CHAPTER 6

  Problems at Home

  Young Bill Cotton typically milked his goats so early in the morning that he carried a lantern to the barn. It was during this predawn darkness that he heard hooves thundering down the greenway. Barely able to see the rider, Bill thought he resembled a phantom in the darkness.

  After the rider had passed, Cotton milked his goats and hurried to the house. Slipping into the kitchen, he was surprised when Mary called, “Bill, is that you?”

  “Yes, Mary. You didn’t need to wake so early.”

  “I’m frightened!” Mary said, peeking from behind the curtain that separated their bed from the main room. Her eyes were large, and her slender shoulders quivered in the cold.

  Bill set the milk pail down and crossed the room. Taking her shoulders in his hands, he gently asked, “What’s the problem?”

  “I dreamed there was a rider.”

  Bill could feel his wife shivering, and he held her close in his arms.

  She seemed to relax in his embrace. “I thought the rider was death. He came to our window and called my name. I tried to scream, but I guess I jus
t woke myself up. Then I thought I heard hooves racing away. Was there a horseman, Bill?”

  “Yes. A horseman did pass earlier this morning. I think he may have been headed to Stonewall, and I don’t feel good about this.”

  “What do you mean?” Mary asked, pushing Bill’s protective arms away, the terror in her voice ebbing. She rose and moved to the blazing stove to start the coffee. “How could one rider cause trouble for anyone, especially for us?” She tossed her auburn locks and gave her husband a teasing smile. “You know, I think the baby could come soon now.”

  A worried look came over Bill’s face. “Do you really think so? Should I get your mother?”

  “Not yet,” Mary said with a laugh. “Let’s have breakfast and talk. Tell me how my dream and this early-morning rider could cause us any trouble.”

  Bill didn’t answer. He strained the milk into crocks and carried it to the spring where it would remain cool. Mary busied herself with breakfast.

  When preparations were made, Mary eased herself into a chair and smiled at her husband. “Now, my worried man, how could this early-morning rider affect our lives?”

  Steam billowed from the mug between Bill’s big hands. “I don’t know, but there have been rumors of trouble in the western land.”

  “Oh, those rumors again! Bill, we’ve heard of trouble over there for years.” Mary waved her hand vaguely in a westerly direction. “Nothing has ever come of it in my time or my father’s time. Why should rumors affect us now?”

  “I don’t know, Mary, but I feel like something huge is about to happen to change our lives forever. I don’t want anything to happen. I’d like to go through life without a care, raise our children, grow old together, and pass quietly, but somehow I don’t think we’ll be able to do that.”

  “But why should rumors from the western lands affect us?” Mary asked, lightly touching her man’s big hands.

  “I’ve joined the army,” Bill said quietly.

  Mary recoiled, her eyes sudden balls of fire. “You did what?”

  Now it was Bill’s turn to get defensive. “I did it for you and the baby. If war should threaten our borders, I thought maybe I could help keep it away from you and our baby!”

  Fear edged with anger laced Mary’s words. “Bill, what if you are called away? The baby’s due anytime. Where will I go? What will I do? I can’t stay on the farm!” Tears filled her eyes. “Bill, please say you’re not serious, that you are only teasing me!”

  “I am serious, Mary. The sergeant of arms spoke to me three weeks ago, and I signed up. That’s why I’ve been going to town so often. They have drills for the new recruits. I’ve been—”

  “Three weeks!” Mary exploded. Her tears disappeared in a wave of red-hot fury. “Bill Cotton, do you mean to tell me you have been playing army for three weeks behind my back? Just when were you going to tell me of this foolishness? I cannot believe you would deceive me this way!” Her chair clattered across the floor as she leaped to her feet. “Get out of this house!” she stormed. “Get out! Do you hear me? Go to town and play army! Just get out!” Grabbing a small skillet from the stove, she hurled it in Bill’s direction.

  In one deft movement, Bill dodged the skillet, grabbed his hat, and slipped through the door. He grabbed a hoe from the toolshed and headed for the cornfield while the banging of pots and pans resounded inside the cabin walls.

  “Dear Lord, forgive me,” he whispered. “I really messed things up. I should have talked things over with her first.”

  His hoe struck the earth. Who am I kidding, he thought. I’m no warrior. He liked the feel of the hoe in his hands. It certainly felt better in his hands than the old sword he’d been practicing with in town.

  The sun grew hot by midday. Bill wiped sweat from his brow and looked back at the cabin. “Guess I’d better face the music,” he muttered to himself. “Sure hope she’s calmed down.”

  After placing the hoe in the shed, Bill eased open the front door of the house. It was cool, dark, and silent inside. “Mary, are you all right?”

  “Bill, come to me,” a small voice called from behind the curtain. “Bill!”

  As he pulled back the curtain, he could see Mary reaching for him. Her cheeks were damp, and her eyes were large. “I need you!” she whispered.

  His big arms wrapped around her tiny figure.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Mary continued. “I think everything will be all right. Do you remember the dream I told you about this morning?”

  “Yes.” Bill nodded.

  “I felt so threatened in my dream, but the rider turned away at the last moment and sped away. I think that’s a good omen. Evil will turn away from me, Bill. The baby is due soon, and I can stay with Mother. We will be fine. But your lovely crops … what will become of them without you to care for them?”

  Bill hugged his wife tightly, and she buried her head on his shoulder. “Mary, I love you so much! I’m sorry I didn’t talk this over with you. I’m no hero! I don’t want to go to war. I just want to protect you and keep you safe. Say,” he said suddenly, “why don’t you come and watch our unit practice in the town square. Quite a few women do.”

  “Women?” Mary’s eyebrows arched as she pulled from Bill’s embrace. “What kind of women?”

  “I don’t know,” Bill said absently. “They come to watch their husbands and sons march and practice. I’d love to have you there. Some say our unit looks pretty impressive, but being in it, I can’t tell.”

  “Oh.” Mary turned away. “I can’t do that yet. I’m a little concerned about the walk, and I still don’t like the thought of you being in the army. Go if you must, but I’m not ready to give you up yet, Bill Cotton. I guess that will take more time.”

  “And prayer,” Bill said softly.

  “You keep God to yourself, Mister Cotton,” Mary snapped. “I have enough to think about without adding that to the list.”

  They went to the kitchen and ate in silence. After dinner, Bill stood to leave. “I love you, Mary,” he said softly. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  She brushed her tousled hair back from her reddened face and rose to wrap her arms around Bill’s neck. “I love you too. Hurry home to me.”

  He smiled and kissed her gently. “I will.” His heart was lighter than it had been in days. He donned his old hat and stepped into the bright afternoon light to begin his walk into town.

  Sweat trickled down his face in the bright sunshine, but he didn’t even notice. His mind was full. He hoped his neighbor Bob Walton would join him for the journey into town.

  Though Bob lived over the hill from him, they saw each other quite often and traded work back and forth. Bill had helped Bob dig a well last winter, and this spring Bob had helped plow the cornfield in return. Their wives enjoyed each other’s company, and the couples got together as often as they could.

  The Waltons were religious folk and attended church regularly. They invited Bill to go with them, and even Mary had attended once out of politeness but she refused to go after that.

  Bill pondered his recent change of attitude. As a youth he was talented and confident, and when he set a goal for himself, he attained it. He had even won the hand of the lovely Mary Trumbell when others far wealthier had failed. Still, church had troubled him. He had thought of himself as a good, honest, moral man, but he knew something was missing.

  Bill knew there was a creator. There had to be. A person had only to look around at the beauty of the earth, the soaring mountains, the towering trees, and the rushing water to see it. Being a farmer, Bill never ceased to be amazed that he could plant a tiny seed in the earth and that with the proper conditions; the seed would sprout and grow. Who brought that seed to life? And the animals of the field were designed not only to survive but to thrive in their environments. And who had placed the stars in their never-changing courses or caused the sun to rise each d
ay?

  Yes, there had to be a creator, but the pastor spoke of God as a friend, not just an all-powerful deity. How could someone have God for a friend?

  One Sunday the pastor had quoted the Bible, saying, “No greater love hath a man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” He had gone on to say, “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

  The pastor had said that Jesus loved mankind so much that He had come to die in our place. God had showed His love for His friends when Jesus lay down His life for us.

  Bill understood that love could serve others to the point of death. His mother had cared for many of her neighbors when fever ravaged the land. She had sought to ease their suffering, until one day she too had fallen prey to the dreaded disease and died.

  Bill reasoned that the grief he’d felt when his mother died was similar to the grief God felt at the loss of His only Son. Considering their similar losses, Bill began to feel a kindred spirit with God. He’d begun to look at things from the heavenly Father’s point of view. How would a father feel? What would a father think?

  It was this outlook on life that had prompted Bill to join the army. Bill’s life was no longer his own. He was responsible for a wife and a child. However, his world had grown even larger than that. If the heavenly Father felt awful when evil men plundered the innocent, raped the earth of its resources, or spread slavery and fear across the land, then shouldn’t Bill try to do something to stop these things?