Faithful Heart (10 page)

When she finished, Dottie wiped tears from her cheeks and rose to her feet. “If it’s all right, I’ll leave Molly Kate and James here while I go back to Jerrod. When it’s safe for them to come home, I’ll come and get them.”

“Dottie, from what I’ve just heard, it isn’t safe for you to go home either,” Will said. “You stay with Maudie and the kids, and I’ll go get Sheriff Donner. Jerrod’s got to be locked up.”

“I have to go to Jerrod. He needs me. And besides, Will, you’re in no condition to sit in a saddle.”

“Then I’ll walk home with you. From what you’ve told us, Jerrod could be very dangerous. I can’t let you go there alone.”

“Please, Will. I appreciate your concern, but I’m not afraid. Jerrod and I need some time alone.”

The old man sighed. “Well, young lady, I won’t interfere since you put it that way. But if you get home and find him still out of control, you get out of there and hurry back here. You understand?”

“I understand, Will.” She kissed both children, telling them she would be back soon to get them. She thanked Maudie and Will for their help and headed across the fields toward home.

Jerrod leaned against a post that held up one corner of the hay loft, the words of his children echoing though his mind. A sheen of sweat filmed his face. His throat was dry from hard breathing. He felt relief that he had been able to turn and run before he struck Dottie.

An earth-shaking sound suddenly assaulted his ears. He raised his head and looked through the open barn door that led to the corral. Instead of sunlit corral, lined by split-rail fence, he saw Rebels coming across steaming grassy fields. He stumbled to the door and used its frame to steady himself.

Sergeant Jerrod Harper was back at Wilson’s Creek on that
hot August day in 1861. The thunder of battle roared in his ears. He looked around for his squad. He was alone. Where were his men? Had the Rebels killed them all?

“Hey!” he yelled, running his gaze around the deep-shadowed interior of the barn. “Maynard! Wilson! Dougherty! Girard! Where are you?” Were his corporals all dead?

A cannon shell exploded a few feet from the barn door. The blast of it took Jerrod’s breath. Muskets were barking from the field before him. He could hear the slugs tearing into wood all around him. Hundreds of Confederates were coming across the field in a swarm of gray. He looked around for his musket. Where was it? It was in his hand only a moment ago.

Again, he searched the interior of the barn.
Where had his men gone?
They wouldn’t have deserted him. Not those brave—Suddenly there were dozens of bloody bodies crumpled, heaped, sprawled all around him.

The Rebel yell mingled with his scream. They were closing in on the run. Jerrod swung his head back and forth, trying to find a weapon. All these dead men … they had muskets. What happened to their muskets? The wild-eyed Rebels were almost to the door of the barn. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. He would find something—

His eyes fell on the double-bladed ax he kept with some garden tools near the barn’s front door. His head was hurting, as though it would split apart. His feet felt heavy, but he shuffled to the ax and closed the fingers of both hands around the handle. The screaming Rebels weren’t going to get him without paying a price.

Louder and louder the chorus of voices beat at him, punctuated with the boom of cannons and the rattle of musketry. The men in gray taunted and yelled as they poured through the door,
their eyes bulging with hatred for Yankees. Jerrod clutched the ax handle and swung it with all his might at the first line of soldiers who came at him, bayonets cutting the air.

The ax struck the milking stanchions, sending splinters in every direction. To Jerrod Harper, the sharp blade cut into Rebel flesh.

The battle continued. Hissing through his teeth, Jerrod swung the ax over and over and over again. Most of the time, it cut only air. Sometimes it struck a wall, a post, the gate of a stall, a feed bin.

Jerrod drove the enemy troops backward through the door that led to the corral. Then the sharp blade chewed into the heavy post that sided the door frame and buried itself deep. Jerrod struggled to free the blade, but it wouldn’t budge. He jerked on the handle till it broke, then used it to drive the remaining troops backward.

Abruptly, the enemy disappeared. The Rebel yells stopped. Jerrod was at the door frame, swinging the ax handle at thin air. He was all alone. He blinked in amazement and could see the horses and the family cow huddled together at the split-rail fence a hundred feet away, staring at him and swishing their tails.

He turned about and searched the barn interior for the bodies of his men. They were gone. He was suddenly very weary. His throat was parched, and he was breathing as if he were climbing a mountain at a run above timberline. He dropped the broken ax handle and sank to his knees.

He began to weep. Tears streaked his cheeks as he sobbed heavily, mumbling, “Dottie! Dottie, where are you? I need you!”

Dottie Harper prayed as she crossed the fields, asking the Lord to show His power in Jerrod’s life. Certainly God could reach down and make Jerrod’s problem go away. Her heart cried for her husband. He had seemed to be getting better, and then this happened.

As she drew near the barn, she heard Jerrod’s voice, coming from inside. She lifted her skirt and ran to the door, pulled it open, and found him a few feet inside on his knees, weeping and calling her name.

Dottie knelt in front of him, cupped his face in her hands, and said, “Jerrod, I’m here! See? It’s me, sweetheart!”

Jerrod opened his eyes and tried to focus them on her face. He breathed her name and threw his arms around her, begging her to forgive him.

“It’s all right, darling,” she said. “Come on. Let’s go to the house.”

When they rose to their feet, Dottie noted the broken ax handle, the blade stuck in the heavy post at the door frame, and the splintered posts, gates, feed bins, and walls. She told herself Jerrod had fought a gallant battle in the war going on inside him.

She was unaware he had again fought Rebels.

T
HE NEXT DAY WAS
S
UNDAY
. As usual, Jerrod Harper was up before the sun to do the chores. Sunrise came while he was milking the cow and pondering the horrible experience he had lived through the day before.

The battle he fought at the barn had been so vivid and real. Its effect still haunted him. Seeing the lifeless bodies of his men strewn around the interior of the barn brought back memories he wished he could forget.

Jerrod thought of how the children remained withdrawn from him when Dottie had brought them home late yesterday afternoon. But could he blame them? Not in the least. What a horrible thing for James and Molly Kate to have to see—their father acting like a wild man, threatening to punish their mother for telling too much. Jerrod lashed himself. Dottie had never been one to talk too much. Dr. Olson had figured things out for himself and simply asked for verification of his assumptions. Certainly Jerrod did not want Dottie to lie.

“Lord,” he prayed, while streaming milk into the bucket, “please don’t let all this become public knowledge. It’s an embarrassment for Dottie and the kids … and it certainly is for me. Help me, Lord. Please help me overcome this other man who
lives inside my body. You well know that I’ve never wanted to hurt Dottie and the kids. I love them with everything that’s in me. You know my heart, Lord, and You know it’s the truth. Help us as we go to church today to gain strength from You to overcome this awful thing in our lives.”

Jerrod continued to pray for God’s help while he finished milking. Moments later, he carried the full bucket to the back porch of the house and poured the milk through the strainer into another bucket. He could smell breakfast cooking as he neared the kitchen door and went inside.

Dottie was at the stove, scrambling eggs, and Molly Kate was seated at the table in her robe. She gave her father a fearful look as he crossed the kitchen to the cupboard and carefully poured the milk into a metal container. He put the lid on the container and turned around to find the little girl staring at him. She quickly avoided his eyes. Dottie saw it as she set a plate of steaming eggs on the table.

“I don’t blame her, Dottie,” Jerrod said. “She has every right to be cautious of me.” He turned to his daughter and said, “I know that when I let the bad man inside me take control, I frighten you. I don’t blame you for shying away from me. I love you, and I hate it when I act so bad. All I can ask is that you try to understand that I can’t help what happened to me in the War, and that I’m doing everything I know how to get better.”

“I heard that sheriff man say you should go to that Dr. Carroll,” Molly Kate said.

Dottie smiled at her daughter, leaned close to her, and said, “Well, honey, we’re trying to make Daddy better without him going to Dr. Carroll. It costs money, and right now, our funds are sort of low.”

“But if Jesus wants Daddy to go to Dr. Carroll, won’t He give
us the money? Pastor Yates preaches all the time that God will supply all of our needs.”

Dottie glanced at Jerrod, then said, “Well, Molly Kate, maybe Jesus wants to make Daddy well all by Himself.”

Molly Kate tilted her head, squinted at her mother and asked, “Then how come He hasn’t done it?”

Dottie looked again at her husband, who gave her an I-don’t-know-how-to-explain-it-to-her look and shrugged.

“Jesus likes doctors,” Molly Kate said matter-of-factly. “He sent Dr. Luke to travel with Paul because Paul didn’t feel good. Since Jesus likes doctors, shouldn’t Daddy go to Dr. Carroll like that sheriff man said, so he can get well?”

A probing thought passed through Dottie’s mind. Was the Lord using the mouth of a child to tell them they should put Jerrod under Dr. Carroll’s care? Jerrod would never submit to it, especially if it meant being admitted to City Mental Asylum.

“We’ll just have to pray harder so we’ll know, won’t we?” Dottie said, patting Molly Kate on the head.

“I guess so,” the little girl said.

Jerrod moved toward the table and said, “James is going to have to hurry if he’s going to eat with us.”

“He didn’t feel good at bedtime last night,” Dottie said.

“Well, what about church?” Jerrod asked.

“You’ll have to go by yourself today. James is definitely not up to it, so I’ll keep him home. Molly Kate can stay here with us.”

“You sure he’s that sick?”

“Not really sick, but pale and weak. The walk to and from the Reeves place yesterday was pretty hard on him. The stitches in his lip are giving him some discomfort, too. He’ll get them out
Tuesday, and I’m sure he’ll be feeling better in a couple more days. We can all go to church together next Sunday.”

“All right, but there’s no sense in Molly Kate missin’ church. She can go with me.”

For the first time, Dottie realized she was afraid to let Jerrod be alone with her daughter. She tried to keep her voice from betraying her fear. “Jerrod, she’s been through a lot lately. It’s probably best that she stay here with James and me.”

“Haven’t we always gone to church unless we were sick?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Well, Molly Kate’s not sick. I want her to go to church with me.”

Dottie cleared her throat softly and spoke carefully. “Jerrod, she’s been through so much lately. She’s apprehensive about you. Can you blame her?”

Tears filmed Jerrod’s eyes. He knelt beside his daughter and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Honey,” he said, a quaver in his husky voice, “Daddy loves you with all his heart. I wouldn’t hurt you, no matter what. I’d like for you to go with me to church. Would you really be afraid to go?”

The child bit her lower lip and studied her father’s tear-filled eyes. She loved her father as much as any six-year-old could, and his tears touched her tender heart. She looked at her mother questioningly but got no answer. The decision would be hers.

Molly Kate rubbed her hands on her robe, licked her lips, and said, “I wouldn’t be afraid to go to church with you, Daddy.”

Jerrod wiped the tears from his face with his hand and folded his daughter in his arms. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, choking on the words.