The Tender Flame (18 page)

On that same first day of April 1862, at Montgomery Village, Maryland, Duane Reynolds came home from work and found Beverly in the kitchen. After a tender kiss, Beverly said, “We got a letter today from Lydia.”

“Did she say she still loves her old father as much as ever?”

“Well, not in those exact words, but the love is there in the letter.” A shadow passed over Beverly’s eyes as she said, “There’s something else in the letter that you need to know about.”

“Something bad?”

“Well, she and Clay are taking it pretty well, and trusting the Lord in it.”

“What is it?”

“Do you want to read the letter, or should I just tell you?”

“Tell me.”

“Remember that I told you that in my last letter to her I asked if there might be a baby on the way?”

“Yes.”

“There is no baby on the way … and there never will be. They found out that Lydia can’t bear children. Some problem she was probably born with that cannot be corrected, even with surgery, Clay says.”

“That’s hard. But you say they’re taking it pretty good?”

“Lydia said they have peace about it because they know God’s hand is in it. She quoted Psalm 18:30, ‘As for God, his way is perfect.’ ”

“That verse has been a real source of strength to Lydia ever since you first pointed it out to her.”

“Yes, it has. She says in the letter that in addition to working in the office as Clay’s assistant five days a week, and on top of teaching her girls’ Sunday school class and singing in the choir, she’s teaching children’s Bible clubs on Saturdays in Oregon City and surrounding communities. When she learned she could never have children of her own, she went to Pastor Farrington and told him she wanted to be involved with children as much as possible. Pastor Farrington was delighted and agreed to make the Bible clubs a ministry of the church. So now the pastor’s wife, Madeline, and a couple of other women are helping her with the clubs.”

Duane shook his head. “That’s some girl God gave us, honey.”

“Don’t I know it. By the way, Clay wrote another little note with her letter, telling us how valuable she is to his practice.”

“He’s mentioned a couple of times how much his patients love her, especially the children.”

Beverly paused for a moment, then said, “She certainly has a way with children. They can’t help but love her.”

“Lydia’s had some real bumps in life, but she always seems to rise above them.”

“Oh, that reminds me … Marjorie and I were talking about Grant when she stopped by this morning. She had a letter from Carrie last week. They seem to be very happy at Fort Union. Grant loves his army life, and the rest of the family does too. Marjorie brought up the old agreement we made with Grant years ago not to tell Lydia he’s alive. She and Scott still think that’s the best way.”

“I agree. Leave well enough alone. Let Lydia go on with her life as Clay Price’s wife, and let the past stay in the past.”

“Marjorie and I are having tea tomorrow afternoon at her house. I’ll tell her we feel just as they do about it.”

Josh Cornell hoisted Jessica Smith into the saddle on his gray stallion. He lifted the reins, whose tips touched the ground, and stroked the horse’s long face. “All right, Stormy, let’s take the prettiest girl in the fort for a ride.” Josh, of course, was unaware of the thrill he always sent through Jessica when he called her the prettiest girl in the fort. She loved him more than ever, but so far she had been able to bribe her little brother to keep him from letting the cat out of the bag.

Josh led Stormy outside the gate and swung up behind Jessica, sitting just behind the saddle. He put his arms around the younger girl to hold the reins.

It was late April, and the desert had blossomed with cactus flowers of various colors—red and gold cane chollas, dark green chokecherry shrubs, and the bright yellow catclaw acacia.

Jessica loved every minute as they rode Stormy at a slow walk under the gaze of the sentries in the tower. Josh was her hero, and she delighted in his presence … especially when she was this close to him.

When they reached the first corner of the stockade wall, Josh let his eyes roam over the colorful desert, the Sangre de Cristo range in the distance to the west, and the azure sky with puffy white clouds drifting beneath the sun. A huge hawk rode the air waves overhead.

“Just think of all this beauty around us, Jessica,” he said, awe evident in his voice. “And so many people think it came from some mysterious explosion.”

“That really is silly, isn’t it? It’s a lot easier to believe that God created it by His mighty hand.”

“Only a fool believes there is no God and that the universe came into being by accident.”

They rode without speaking until they had turned the next corner, then Josh said, “Jessica, since we’re good friends, I’d like to share something with you. The Lord has been dealing with me about being a preacher.”

She turned in the saddle to look him in the eye. “Really, Josh?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“I think that’s wonderful!”

Her exuberant approval brought a smile to his lips. “I hope I can be a preacher as good as Dad.”

“Your father is an excellent preacher, Josh, and I’m sure you’ll be as good as he is.”

“It’ll take some doing.”

“Yes, but since the same God is calling you to preach who called your father, He can give you the same talents and abilities. I think it’s wonderful that you’re going to be a preacher.”

“I thought you would; that’s why I was sort of eager to tell you.”

“Are there any other preachers in your family?”

“Not unless they’re distant relatives we don’t know about.”

“Not even a grandfather, great-grandfather, someone like that?”

“Huh-uh. My grandfather on my dad’s side was in the lumber business in Vermont. He’s dead now. My grandmother’s still alive, but her health isn’t good. My grandfather on my mother’s side was a fisherman in Maine. He and my grandmother are both dead.”

The sentries smiled down on the children as they completed their first trip around the perimeter of the fort wall and started another.

When they reached the first corner again, Josh said, “I sure am going to miss you and your family when you leave the fort.”

“I—we will miss your family too.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

“I hope so.”

By the first of July, Grant had recuperated enough to lay aside his crutches and walk with a cane. He made arrangements with the army, through Colonel Ballard, to provide his family an escort as far as Independence, Missouri, where they would cross the Missouri River out of hostile Indian territory. They planned to leave Fort Union on July 16.

On Wednesday, July 9, Jessica was at the front door of the Smith house watching her father limp toward the family wagon with the
help of his cane. A corporal had hitched up the team and now sat on the wagon seat.

“Corporal,” Grant said, “go ahead and take the wagon outside the gate. You can leave it there and go on about your business. I’ll be leaving for the trading post in a few minutes.”

“But wouldn’t you rather I left it here, sir? So you wouldn’t have to walk clear to the gate?”

“That’s the point. I’ve got to strengthen this bad leg, and walking is the best way to do it. Thanks for your help, corporal. Tell the sentries I’ll be there shortly.” As Grant limped back toward the house, he smiled at Jessica and said, “I have a feeling somebody wants to ride with me to the trading post.”

Jessica grinned. “Would it be all right, Daddy? Daniel and David are playing games with their friends over by the stables. My work’s all caught up. Could I please go with you?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll kiss your mother good-bye and be right back.”

“I’ll wait right here.”

Jessica turned back to see Josh on Stormy, trotting across the compound toward her.

“Hi,” said Josh, reining in. “Want to go for a ride?”

“I’d love to, but I’m going with Daddy to the trading post. He has to pick up some supplies for our trip. We’re about to leave.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Sure, I’ll ride with you tomorrow.”

Jessica felt a stab of pain in her heart as she watched Stormy carry Josh toward the fort gate. She wished the Cornells were moving to Maryland too.

She looked back through the open door of her family’s quarters, expecting to see her father tapping his way with his cane. When several minutes had passed, Jessica went inside and walked toward the kitchen, where she could hear her parents’ voices. She found her mother standing over the kitchen table. Her father lay on his back, using a screwdriver on one of the table legs.

“Are you about ready to go, Daddy?”

“Be a few minutes, honey.” He grunted as he tightened a screw. “Why don’t you go on out and get in the wagon? Tell the sentries I told you to wait for me there. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“All right.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and headed for the front door. She skipped across the compound, greeting people along the way. When she reached the gate, it was closed.

“You going with your father to the trading post?” Private Harry Combs called down from the sentry tower.

“Yes. Daddy’ll be along in a few minutes. He told me I can go ahead and get in the wagon.”

Private Combs came down the stairs and opened the gate wide enough for them to pass through. He ushered Jessica to the waiting wagon and lifted her onto the seat. The horses swished their tails at pesky flies.

Jessica thanked him, and Combs went back inside the fort. A few moments later, her attention was drawn to Josh galloping his horse around the nearest corner of the stockade fence. Her smile broadened as horse and rider slowed and drew up beside the wagon.

“You going to drive to the trading post by yourself, Jessica?”

She giggled. “No, silly! Daddy will be here in a minute.”

Stormy blew and stomped a hoof, impatient to get on with his run. “Looks like I’d better get back to my riding before Stormy gets upset at me.” With that, Josh put Stormy to a gallop and soon rounded the far corner of the stockade fence. He waved to her just before he disappeared.

Time seemed to drag while Jessica waited for her father. She turned slightly on the wagon seat and let her gaze roam over the desert toward the west, admiring the distant peaks of the Sangre de Cristo Range. She noticed movement a few yards to the rear of the wagon, and her back went rigid when she saw a diamondback rattlesnake slither from under a small pile of rocks. She could see the black, bulging eyes and flitting tongue.

“Private Combs! Corporal Watts!” she called, turning back toward the tower.

“What is it, Jessica?”

“I … I’m in trouble down here. There’s a rattlesnake crawling toward the wagon!”

“Stay right were you are!” Combs shouted. “Don’t move!”

Jessica heard the rapid footsteps on the tower stairs. She leaned over the side of the wagon and watched the snake slither underneath, then between the team. When one of the horses swished its tail and stomped a hoof, the rattler hissed and quickly drew itself into a tight coil, its head high and weaving.

Jessica watched, spellbound, as the snake’s rattle became a blur against the reddish earth, and the whirring sound grew louder.

The startled horses whinnied shrilly, danced about for a few seconds, then bolted when the snake struck one of them.

The lurch of the wagon almost caused Jessica to fall over the back of the seat, but she managed to hang on as it bounced and fishtailed over the rugged, uneven ground.

Josh Cornell was some two hundred yards from the gate, leisurely trotting Stormy around in a wide circle, when he saw the bounding wagon and a great dust cloud behind. Josh gouged Stormy’s sides with his heels and put the horse to a full gallop.

Grant Smith was making his way toward the gate when he saw both sentries thunder down the stairs of the tower, muskets in hand. He quickened his pace as they charged through the gate, leaving it partially open. Before Grant could see what was going on, he heard the muskets roar, one right after the other.

He hurried as fast as his bad leg would let him, his heart thudding at the sound of shouting soldiers behind him, coming on the run.

When he pushed open the gate, he saw clouds of blue-white gun-smoke floating away on the air. The two sentries were standing over a
dead rattlesnake, but their eyes were watching a dust cloud to the southwest.

“What happened?” Grant gasped.

“This snake spooked the horses, sir,” Watts said. “Jessica called to us, telling us the snake was crawling under the wagon. Before we could get down here, the horses bolted.”

Suddenly Josh Cornell appeared on his galloping horse, heading for the runaway wagon. He was steadily gaining, but even if he reached Jessica in time, could he get her out of the wagon?

Colonel Ballard arrived on the scene, having heard the gunshots, and Watts told him the situation. All eyes stayed riveted on the wagon and the pursuing rider. Ballard ordered three men to get their horses and get out there.

“Please, dear God,” Grant whispered. “Please help Josh. Please bring my little girl back to me safe and sound!”