The Promise of Morning (27 page)

Heads nodded agreement.

Following scripture, Matthew read each verse and then expounded on it. He felt himself to be in familiar territory. This topic was one he’d chosen often during his early years as an itinerant preacher. From experience, he knew there were always hearers who came out of curiosity mixed in among the believers who held services in their homes when a minister wasn’t available. He wanted to reach the hearts of the curious.

After coming to the end of the passage, Matthew eased down from the wagon bed and faced the rapt gathering. Running his finger along a line of print in his Bible, he spoke each word in a clear voice. “‘And the times of this ignorance God winked at; but now commandeth all men everywhere to repent!’” He paged over to the Epistle to the Hebrews. “And here we are warned, ‘Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God.’”

Matthew closed his Bible and laid it behind him in the wagon. “Has anyone here departed from God? Will you come back to him now?” He lifted his hands and held them, palms open, toward his audience. “He’s waiting.” A dozen or so of his listeners came forward and pressed in on him in their eagerness to respond to the message. He grasped their extended hands, at last feeling justified in his decision to leave Beldon Grove.

Among those crowding up to him was a man near Matthew’s age who had his arms around the shoulders of two lads who, judging by their round red cheeks, were obviously his sons. The three of them were dressed in hickory brown tow-cloth trousers, tan checkered shirts, and woven straw hats.

“I’m Nathan Clyde.” The ruddy-faced man pushed the boys toward Matthew. “These here are Boone and Lafayette. I want you should take supper with us and explain to them more about the Lord.”

Matthew looked at Nathan’s sons and felt a stab of loneliness for his own boys. The image of the twins working in the hayfield came to his mind. His mood of justification faded.

He heard Nathan clear his throat and realized he hadn’t responded to the man’s invitation. “I’d be pleased, and thank you.”

“We’re just down the road a piece; it’s the cabin with a real glass window. You can’t miss it.” Nathan turned and made his way through the gathered worshipers.

As Matthew watched him go, he noticed that the young men from the groggery had entered the meeting ground.

One of them pushed through the crowd and faced him. “How ’bout me, Preacher? Think you can cure my unbelief?” His whiskey-laden breath assaulted Matthew’s nostrils. The others followed him, snickering.

“I can’t, but God can.” Matthew straightened his shoulders, noticing that most of the worshipers had backed away, leaving him alone with his antagonist.

“You’re the one standing here. I’m askin’ you.”

The man’s followers roared with laughter, slapping each other’s backs. “You tell him, Jason!”

Glancing around, Matthew saw that if there was to be a resolution, it would have to come from him. People who had eagerly listened to his preaching now stood back, watching the drama. Apprehension choked him. He felt as he did when he faced Beldon before his congregation. He looked at the ringleader and his three grinning cohorts. Good-sized young men, any one of them could beat him in a fair fight.

All the frustration and anger he’d suppressed over the past months boiled to the surface. He grabbed Jason by the front of his shirt, using the coarse fabric as a handle to pull the fellow closer. “I will not have the Lord’s word mocked.” He jerked the shirt, staring directly into his tormentor’s bloodshot eyes. “Do you understand me?”

Jason shoved Matthew’s hand away. “Get your hands off’n me.”

Before Matthew could react, Jason swung at him and landed a wicked blow to his jaw, splitting his lip. The flat, metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth. Gasping in shock, Matthew threw his arms up to protect his ribs. He wasn’t quick enough. Jason landed a solid punch to his belly, then hooked a foot behind Matthew’s knee and sent him sprawling. Matthew turned his head in time to see Jason draw his leg back and aim a kick at his face. Curling into a ball, he rolled to one side. The boot grazed his head, throwing Jason off balance.

His assailant stumbled backward. Cursing, he came at Matthew again, right hand knotted in a fist. Voices penetrated the roaring in Matthew’s ears. “Stop! Let’s git outta here.” The other three louts seized Jason’s arms and dragged him away. Then the four of them turned and fled the meeting ground.

Matthew heard their retreat between his gasps for breath. He lay on his side in the dirt, dust prickling his face. Blood trickled across his chin from the cut on his lip. His head pounded where Jason had kicked him.

“Reverend.” Nathan Clyde squatted beside Matthew. “You all right? I didn’t see what they was up to until I was almost home. I come running fast as I could.” He put his arm around Matthew’s back and helped him to a sitting position.

Humiliated, Matthew took a mental inventory of his injuries and decided his swelling lip was the worst of it. “Yes. I’m fine. Nothing feels broken.” He looked around. Most of the crowd was drifting away, some glancing over their shoulders. A few watched from a safe distance. Would they remember his message, or his beating?

A white-bearded individual walked over to him. “Don’t know why they sent ye down here. Something bad happens every time a preacher shows up.” He worked his lips and spat a stream of tobacco juice next to his boots. “Last one got his horse stole.” The old man leaned over. “Here. Let me give you a hand.”

“Obliged.” Matthew tottered to his feet. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Nathan studied him. “Think you can make it down to my place?”

“If you get me on my horse.”

When he slid off Samson’s back, he hoped fervently that an invitation to spend the night would come with the promised meal. He ached everywhere.

Nathan appeared at the open door. “Come on in, Reverend. My wife’ll get you a basin so’s you can wash that blood off.”

Matthew followed his host inside, noting the table set with seven wooden bowls, and a tray of spoons at one end. Looking around the single room, he spotted Nathan’s sons, Boone and Lafayette, sitting on a bench in the shadows beyond the open hearth. Two little girls who both looked to be under five years old played on the floor at their feet.

Nathan walked to his wife. She stood at least a head taller than he did and looked like a collection of long sticks wrapped in a homespun apron. “This here’s Lizzie.”

Lizzie dipped a curtsy in Matthew’s direction, then turned to the hearth. She drew the iron crane toward her and tipped some water from a kettle into a washbasin. “You can use the bench outside the door there to clean up.”

Matthew followed her, thanking her when she set the basin down and handed him a towel. He couldn’t recall ever seeing a woman as tall as Lizzie Clyde. The top of her ruffled cap rode only a few inches below the low ceiling.

“I feel just terrible about them boys attacking you, a reverend and all.” Golden brown eyes shone out of her freckled face like two stars. “Supper’s near ready. You set and rest yourself when you’re done washing.”

After the meal, Matthew sipped his coffee and tried to sort out his thoughts. Did Elder Meecham know the community’s reputation when he sent him here
?
He longed to return home, but Meecham’s parting words held him in place—
Don’t shirk on
the circuit too.

He stared at the flames crackling on the hearth. In his imagination he pictured them as a thicket of fiery trees. Like a forest, the only way around his dilemma was to go straight through.

Nathan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Got a question for you, Brother Craig.”

Matthew nodded, glad for a diversion from his gloomy speculations. “What is it?”

Leaning his arms on the tabletop, Nathan gazed at him over the flickering light of a candle. “Stranger rode through here the other day, said he heard talk there was going to be a play put on up north in New Camden. By someone named Shakespeare. The play’s called
Macbeth
, I think he said.”

From her stool next to the fire, Lizzie bobbed her head in agreement. “That’s right.
Macbeth.
I remember because it reminded me of old man MacBride, down the road.”

Nathan’s eyes searched Matthew’s face. “I was raised up not to hold with plays and suchlike, but the fellow said this one’s taught in fancy schools out east. Anyways, do you think such a thing is wrong?”

Like dust clouds following a stampede, painful memories swirled in Matthew’s mind at the mention of the play. “Do I think it’s wrong?” He stood and took a breath. “No, I don’t. You folks want to travel to New Camden to see it, go ahead.”

21

Uncle Arthur tied his horse to the hitching rail in front of Molly’s house, then helped Ellie step down from the wagon. She squeezed his arm. “I’m glad I decided to come with you today. At first I thought I’d just give you my list and you could pick up our supplies.”

“Why?”

“It hurts to have people who used to be part of Matthew’s congregation pretend they don’t notice me in the mercantile.”

“I think they’re ashamed of their part in what happened. I’d wager there’s more than a few of them wish they could undo it.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me. The church was full on Sunday. People seem to like Mr. Beldon.” She tugged at the tight sleeves of her best dress. “Anyway, it’s a lovely day and I’m going to enjoy it.”

He patted her hand. “That’s my girl.”

Molly dashed outside and embraced Ellie. Some of her dark hair had escaped from the crown of braids she wore and slipped down her neck in tendrils. “Come in. I have a wonderful surprise.” She seized Ellie’s hand and tugged her through the door. “You too,” she called over her shoulder to Uncle Arthur.

Once inside, Ellie’s eyes widened when she saw the figure seated at the table. Lean, haggard, skin burned black from the sun, but nevertheless recognizable. “James?”

His eyes smiled a greeting. “Aunt Ellie.”

She rushed to his side and hugged him, shocked to feel his ribs prominent under his cotton shirt. “What happened to you? When did you get home? Did Mr. Beldon—”

Molly stepped next to her. “James was dropped off yesterday by a peddler on his way to Iowa. He picked him up on the road outside of Mt. Jackson.” She put an arm around her son and rested her cheek on his hair. “You can see how sick he’s been. But he’s home. God answered our prayers.”

Uncle Arthur dragged a chair next to James and sat. “Doubtless you already told your folks, but I want to know why you was able to come home, seeing as how you enlisted. Never knew the Army to be merciful.”

James studied his scratched, bruised feet. “Didn’t enlist,” he mumbled. “Took me and Billy a couple weeks to get to Alton, then we found out we were supposed to be somewheres else. Time we got to the next place, we were too late, and had to go chasing the volunteers again.” He took a deep breath. “Eventually we came to a regular camp, down near Belleville. You can imagine, by then we were tuckered.”

He looked up as Luellen slipped into the room. Some of the tiredness in his face disappeared. She moved past him to the range and removed several loaves of bread from the oven. Their yeasty fragrance swirled through the kitchen. “We’re celebrating,” she said. “Fresh bread on a Wednesday.”

James turned and smiled at his sister. “You don’t know how many times I dreamed about your good bread when Billy and me were on the road.”

Luellen’s face flushed. “You don’t know how often I prayed you’d come back safe.” She touched his cheek.

James clasped her hand and held it for a moment.

“You were saying about Belleville . . . ,” Uncle Arthur said. “Go on.”

“Well, me and Billy camped with the volunteers for a week or so. We thought we’d eat better than we did on the road, but we were sore disappointed. All we had was salt pork and beans, and the crick water was foul. We both come down with dysentery. Lots of fellows had died there already, someone said. Anyway, after a few days a regular Army soldier arrived and spread the word that some of us weren’t officially enlisted. Told us we needed to go to Peoria or Springfield and sign up before we could go to Mexico.”