River of Mercy (40 page)

“You will regret this, Rachel,” he ground out, his menacing bearing and tone of voice a visible threat. “You refuse me, and you give up your last chance to continue living a decent life among us.”

There was no pretense about him now, nothing but a dark, thunderous rage.

“Get out,” she again demanded.

Rachel managed to wait until she bolted the door behind him before falling to her knees and collapsing into a shuddering torrent of anguished weeping.

Hours later, Rachel sat in the darkened kitchen, still shaken and sickened by the unthinkable episode that had occurred earlier.

At first she had been unable to claw her way through the bewildering shock that had left her weak and dazed in Samuel's wake. Finally though, her mind had begun to clear, and she forced herself to comprehend the reality of what Samuel had proposed—and threatened.

As if his presence still hovered over the room, she gradually came to realize that his accusations of poor judgment and unwise behavior might hold some truth. Perhaps she
had
acted at times on impulse instead of wisely, but hadn't she acted mostly out of love and not from willful sin or the intention to deceive? And despite whatever truth his allegations might have contained, surely his rage against her and his attempt to force her into an unholy marriage had been just as wicked.

As the awareness of her mistakes came to bear on her and the shadow of guilt weighed heavily on her, she prayed from the deepest well of her being for forgiveness. She prayed for mercy and a clean heart, as well as God's intervention, that He would somehow stay Samuel's hand and stop him from carrying out the threat of the
Meidung.

She didn't doubt that he intended to have her shunned and held the power to do so. But the peace that gradually began to dawn on her as she prayed seemed to whisper that in truth she had done nothing to deserve being placed under the
Bann.
Guilty of impulsive, even foolish actions at times, yes. But not guilty of the sins Samuel had hinted at.

Rachel also knew that hers would not be the only heart to break if Samuel carried out his intention. She sobbed and groaned aloud to think of the pain and sorrow it would bring her family.

If she had done something so terrible that the shunning would be justified, that was one thing. But she couldn't believe Samuel actually believed such wickedness of her. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that this was his way of trying to force her hand, to coerce her into a marriage that in itself would be a sin—on both their parts.

“O Lord God, what am I to do? What
can
I do?”

She had to tell someone. Someone she trusted, someone who could help. Someone must know what had happened here today.

Mamma? Her mother was the one she always went to when she was troubled or needed help.

She instantly discounted the very thought. She couldn't bring such a blow down on her. If there were any way at all to keep Mamma from knowing about this ugliness, she must somehow shield her. She couldn't bear the thought of what Samuel's threats would do to her gentle, sensitive mother.

Then she thought of Doc. Hadn't she always trusted his quiet wisdom, his kindness? But Doc was a new convert. Well liked and respected by the People, yes, but he would have no influence where a bishop was concerned. Besides, if Doc knew, she couldn't expect him to keep such a secret from her mother. It would be altogether unfair to ask it of him.

Malachi Esch.
Unexpectedly, her good friend Phoebe's husband came to mind. Malachi had been a friend to her and her family since she was a little girl, and he was kindness itself. Everyone knew him as a good man, a fair and wise leader.

He was also a compassionate man in every way. He and Phoebe had sometimes even helped hide the runaway slaves, at the risk of their own safety, just like Jeremiah and Asa did.

Even more importantly for her situation, he was a leader in the church, one of their preachers, so he would have some influence and authority.

Rachel knew she had to tell
someone.
Why not Malachi? Although the thought of confiding the personal nature of Samuel's accusations to anyone made her feel shame, she sensed that Malachi would listen to her with an open mind. And somehow she knew he would believe her and not condemn or humiliate her.

There was still plenty of daylight left, and Malachi lived close by. She felt an urgency to not delay, to go now. She feared Samuel would waste no time sending a messenger to impose the
Bann
on her. If she had any hope at all for help, she needed to act as soon as possible.

Her decision made, albeit reluctantly, she rose from the kitchen chair and went to get her coat. She delayed only a moment before leaving the house, just long enough to whisper one more prayer, again asking for God's mercy and understanding, this time on the part of Malachi, one of His godly servants.

38

Ye faithful!
—
ye noble!
A day is at hand
Of trial and trouble,
And woe in the land!

J
AMES
C
LARENCE
M
ANGAN

O
n Tuesday afternoon, Gant received a note from Asa, letting him know that the “shipment had been delivered to the supplier,” where it would be “loaded and transported on to the north warehouse.”

As for Asa and John Turner, they would “lay over in Canton long enough to make repairs on the equipment and let the horses have a rest before heading home.”

Gant quickly translated all he needed to know. They had reached the station just outside of Canton, where Paul Frazier and his brother would take over as conductors and drive the refugee slaves the rest of the way north with fresh horses. Asa and young Turner would also have a rest and then head home.

He breathed a sigh of relief and continued to read. Silas, as expected, had gone on with the “shipment.” Asa had given him money for a fresh mount of his own, asking him to return to Riverhaven and stay with them a spell once the trip was completed. Was that all right with Gant? He doubted he'd be able to convince the boy to spend much time “off the road,” but he hoped Silas would at least stay long enough to get some rest and visit awhile before going on. Did Gant think they could make a place for him?

Clearly, Asa wanted to spend as much time as possible with his newly discovered nephew. Happy for his friend, Gant hurriedly scrawled a reply and passed it to the waiting messenger. Silas was welcome for as long as he wanted to stay.

As he continued his work on the kitchen set he was making for Hap Carter and his widowed daughter, Gant remembered to give thanks for another safe “delivery.” They had been fortunate so far in setting hundreds of runaway slaves safely on the road to freedom, either by land or on the river. Over the years, they hadn't lost a one of them, and other than the gunshot one of Cottrill's men had inflicted on him, neither he nor Asa had suffered any major injury.

Truly, they had been exceedingly fortunate. No, he corrected himself, they had been exceedingly blessed. Blessed and divinely protected.

Malachi Esch knew he could wait no longer to contact Bishop Schrock and at least one other bishop—most likely Jacob Lehman—both from neighboring districts. Bad enough what he had learned from Rachel Brenneman the past evening. But today, his boy, Reuben, had seen with his own eyes a sight that not only outraged Malachi but sorely grieved his heart.

Early this morning, he had sent Reuben into town to pick up feed and a few store supplies. When the boy returned, he told a tale Malachi might not have believed had not his own son been doing the telling. Reuben was a
gut
boy and had always been truthful to the bone. Malachi knew if his son said it, it was so, and that was that.

He still shuddered as he recalled Reuben's words. “I saw Noah and Joe Beiler on the road coming back from town,
Dat.
I don't know what happened to Joe, but he looked a fright. As if he'd been beaten, and badly so. His face was all bruised and puffed, and one eye looked as if it was swollen shut. And he was walking like it hurt him some to move.”

Reuben had hesitated before going on, but finally, as if he couldn't stop himself, he'd burst out, “Is it true,
Dat,
what's been told about Bishop Beiler beating on his boys? And his poor dead wife as well?”

Malachi hadn't known how to answer his son's question. There had been a time when he would have simply cautioned the boy not to repeat rumors—rumors he had heard himself but refused to spread. Even now, there was no proof Samuel was responsible for his youngest son's painful appearance. Still, after what he'd heard told at the meeting a few days before, plus Rachel Brenneman's account of Samuel Beiler's threat against her, and now this incident his own son had related to him, it seemed the truth had to be faced.

He had answered Reuben carefully but with candor. “It is said, son, that where there's smoke, there's bound to be some fire. I fear there may indeed be some fire behind these stories.”

“But he's a bishop now,
Dat
!”

“So he is, Reuben, but he's still a man, and though we don't like to think it, he's just as prone to weakness and sin as we all are.”

After Reuben went out to the barn, Malachi forced himself to confront the reality that something had to be done about Samuel Beiler. But it was beyond his authority or right to make decisions in such a serious matter. So with a heavy heart, he wrote identical notes to the two bishops in districts nearest Riverhaven, asking them to come as soon as possible for a meeting of utmost importance.