Guide Me Home (43 page)

Tolly

A pickax was a sorry replacement for a shovel. Tolly grunted as he swung the pointed head into the ground and broke loose another chunk of earth. He rolled it into the opening and pressed it down with his foot. Despite the chill evening air, sweat streamed down his face. He swiped his forehead with his sleeve, then stood for a moment, panting. His muscles ached and tiredness pulled at him. But he couldn't rest. Not until he'd finished.

The torch he'd jammed into the ground began to fizzle. Quick, before it went all the way out, he grabbed the last one from his pack and touched the heads together. The fire flared, glaring against the graying sky. He pushed the unlit end firm into the ground and returned to his ax. He hoped none of the Spencers showed up before he finished the task. They'd be plenty mad about him using those jugs and still parts to help fill the hole. But if they fussed, he just might aim his ax at them instead and suffer the consequences. Fool men anyway.

He raised the pickax high, ready for another swing, when someone burst out of the bushes and hollered, “Tolly, don't!”

Tolly nearly toppled backward. He set his feet wide, held the ax like a sword, and glared at the dark figure hiding behind a lantern's glow. “Who is that hollerin' at me?”

“Me.” The man set down a lantern by the hole, and Tolly got a look at his face. Devlin Bale. Relief flooded him. His muscles went limp, and the ax slid from his grip.

Devlin propped his hands on his knees and scanned the rough area where Tolly had spent the last hour whacking at the ground. He scowled. “What are you doing? Why are you covering it up?”

Tolly blinked. “ 'Cause I gotta. It don't belong here.”

Devlin straightened and shot an impatient look at him. “But it was a separate opening, another means of accessing the cave. Do you understand its importance?”

Tolly nodded slowly, too tired to do it fast. “Yep. It let me an' those two foolsome youngstuhs get to daylight.” But now it'd served its purpose. It had to go.

Devlin blew out a breath. “That's not what I meant. This could become a second access to the cave. This could open up a whole new tour route to visitors.”

Tolly squinted at the college boy. What did they teach these young people in them places of education? “This ain't a natural openin'. Somebody's come along—probably Orval Spencer, seein' how prickly he's been about anybody darin' to step on his property—an' hacked it out, made his own way into the cave. I speculate he was scopin' out a place to set up a corn liquor still unduh the ground. But he's gonna hafta set it up someplace else. I cain't leave this hole here.”

“But why not?”

Tolly's weary legs gave out. He collapsed next to the half-filled hole and sagged forward. “Ain't you listened to nothin' I's said the whole time we been togethuh? Mammoth Cave was crafted by the hands of the good Lawd Almighty. He gave it as much care as He did the part o' the world above the ground. Suppose somebody come along up here an' chopped down ever' tree, just hacked 'em all to pieces so they couldn't nevuh grow again. What would happen?”

Devlin bent down on a knee, his brow puckering. “Well, things wouldn't look the same. We wouldn't be able to make use of the wood or fruit that comes from trees. Animals would lose their places of shelter. We wouldn't have shade anymore, and the landscape would be desolate.”

Maybe they'd taught him a few things after all. “That's right. That's right. It would upset the balance o' nature, yes?”

Devlin nodded.

Tolly pointed at him. “An' that's exactly what would happen down below if I leave this hole. The balance o' the cave would be all upset. God planned for one openin', Devlin. One.” He jammed his finger at the boy, drumming home his point. “We go messin' wit' that, we's gonna change the cave in ways the Creatuh di'n't intend.” Tears pricked Tolly's eyes as sorrow weighted his heart. “Just befo' I foun' this hole, I heard the cave moanin', boy. Cryin' like a wounded crittuh. It's gotta be healed o' this jagged wound.”

Devlin sat gazing at Tolly for a long time. Long enough for Tolly to gather his strength. He used the ax and pushed himself to his feet. He gripped the tool two handed and raised it over his head.

Devlin leaped up and grabbed the ax's handle.

Tolly glared at him. “Let me be. I don't got patience fo' you an' yo' plans. I got a job to finish.”

The college boy shook his head. He tugged the ax away and took a step backward. “Move aside, Tolly. I'll close the hole.”

Rebekah

T
he last Saturday in August, Rebekah stood aside and watched Daddy tamp the soil around the arched limestone marker etched with her brother's name, the dates of his time on earth, and the scripture Mama chose. Rebekah read the words aloud while the leaves whispered their lullaby and a moist breeze teased her hair. “ ‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.' ”

Daddy rose and moved beside her. He laid his arm across her shoulder and pulled her tight against his ribs. “Jesus Himself said it. That means we can trust it. Andy's livin' with Him, an' we'll see him again by an' by.”

She fixed her gaze on “yet shall he live.” Andy was gone from this earth, but he wasn't gone from her memories. He lived in a place where no harm or sadness would touch him again. And someday they'd be reunited. A tiny thread of peace—of guilt lifting—eased through her heart. Tears blurred her vision, making the words dance. “By and by…”

Daddy kissed the crown of her head and released her. He stepped gingerly to the back section of the little graveyard and adjusted Granddaddy's cross. “Can't hardly believe September waits around the corner. Devlin'll be headin' back to Lexington soon. Gonna miss that young man.”

So would she. Melancholy tried to sneak in. Over the past two months, she'd sat beside Devlin in Sunday service, watched him absorb Preacher Haynes's teaching. They'd shared hours and countless talks, with him at the table carefully reconstructing his map and her on the stoop of her cabin. The handsome student who had arrived with self-centered ambitions now planned to use his surveying skills to help the people living in the hollow determine and fix the boundaries of their landholdings to protect their property for the next generation.

Pride filled her when she recalled the letter he'd sent to his father claiming he'd come to believe the land would be better preserved by the hands of those who'd built their homes and lived on it. She'd gained a healthy respect for the elder Bale when he replied that he'd come to his own conclusion that relying on a land acquisition to gain favor was the same as manipulation. He still intended to run for the Senate but on his own abilities. The Bales were honorable men.

She suddenly realized Daddy was talking. She pulled herself from her reflections to give him her attention.

“This year Trudy'll be headin' off to school with her sisters. Only Little Nellie'll be left at home all day with your mama. That'll prob'ly seem quiet.” He shifted to Grandmama's cross, tightening the ties holding the crossbar in place. “Leastwise until the beginnin' o' the new year.” He hummed as he worked, a secretive grin toying on his lips.

Awareness dawned. “Daddy, is Mama…expecting?”

A joyous smile burst over his face. He nodded hard enough to dislodge his hat. “She sure is. An' I hope it ain't prideful to hope for a boy this time. Lord knows I love my gals, but havin' a boy to traipse after me again would be a mighty pleasure.” His expression turned wistful.

Rebekah darted behind him and wrapped him in a hug. “Congratulations, Daddy! I'll pray with you for a boy.” Not to replace Andy. No boy could ever replace Andy. But to bring his own joy and challenges to their family.

He patted her arms. “Thank you, gal. Pray for your mama, too. She ain't as young as she once was, an' she's lost so many.” His gaze turned toward the little crosses. “But she's feelin' fine an' says she's certain sure God's gonna let us raise this one. Who am I to question her faith?”

A knot filled her throat. Daddy's and Mama's faith…How beautifully they lived it before her and her sisters.

“Gal, I brought you out here 'cause there's somethin' your mama an' me want you to know.”

His serious tone captured her full attention. “What is it, Daddy?”

He placed his hand on her shoulder and gazed intently into her eyes. “We don't want to use the money you been earnin' to buy gravestones an' a fence for this spot in the woods.”

Disappointment niggled. “Why not?” She'd worked so hard and so long to earn the privilege of building Daddy's legacy.

“ 'Cause that money can be put to better use on the livin' than o' the already-gone.”

Rebekah shook her head, confused.

“Gal, we want you to take the money from the can an' enroll in college.”

She drew back. “Daddy, we can't afford—”

He gave her a little shake. “Just listen to me now. You got a good head on your shoulders. You always have. I had me a talk with Devlin awhile back, an' he told me lots o' students work an' pay their way a little at a time.”

Tears flooded Rebekah's eyes—tears of longing, tears of uncertainty, even tears of sadness to leave her beloved hollow. “Do…do you really want me to go away, Daddy?”

He crushed her to his chest. His chin pressed the top of her head. “If I did what I wanted, you'd stay right here with your mama an' me your whole life. But that'd be plumb selfish.” He set her aside and met her watery gaze. “You got somethin' to give, Rebekah. God's got big plans for you. It's time for you to seek 'em.”

“But, Daddy, your legacy.” She gestured weakly to the plot of ground with its wooden crosses.

He cupped her cheek. “I'm lookin' at my legacy right now, Rebekah. You, who's chosen to live in God-honorin' ways.”

She sniffled. “That's because you taught me to honor Him, Daddy. You and Mama taught me—taught all of us girls—faith.”

He nodded, his smile tender. “An' don't you see, gal? You acceptin' it, livin' it, teachin' it to the next generation is the best legacy any man could have.”

Cissy

Cissy released the burro into his stall with a loving pat on his rump. “There you go now, Beau. Enjoy them oats. I'll…I'll…” She swallowed hard. She couldn't say she'd see him again. Because her work at the estate was done. Mr. Temperance would pack his photography gear and head out first thing in the morning. Before she started crying over a smelly old burro, she turned and raced out of the barn.

The photographer was folding his camera's stand. The camera and props were already boxed. Her heart gave a flip. Had he forgotten? She dashed to him and grabbed his sleeve. “Mr. Temperance, remember you're gonna have supper with us tonight.”

He paused and grinned at her. “You are the pushiest child I've ever met.”

She giggled, hunching her shoulders. “Well, you're old. Thought you might've forgot.”

He rolled his eyes. He did that a lot when she was around. “Not so old I'd forget a dinner invitation.” He patted the box that held his camera. “And, yes, I'm bringing this with me. Was your mother able to remove all the stains from your pretty dress?”

Some of the ground-in dirt from her time in the cave hadn't come out of the ivory linen, but she didn't care. What were a few mars on a dress when her insides felt all clean and shiny, her dark sins erased by God's hand of forgiveness? “No. But I'll stand in the back, an' nobody'll even see the marks.”

She nearly wriggled out of her skin with eagerness to surprise her family. She wouldn't be buying a train ticket to the big city. That dream didn't hold a bit of appeal now that she understood how much her mama and daddy loved her. But she'd spent nearly every penny buying her sisters and Mama new dresses to wear for the picture Mr. Temperance intended to take of them. She'd even bought Daddy a new tie since his Sunday suit was plenty good yet. If only—

She grabbed the man's sleeve again. “Mr. Temperance, I gotta ask you somethin'. An' you tell me if you think it's silly.”

He chuckled. “If it hatched in your head, it probably is, but go ahead and ask me anyway.”

She cupped her hand beside his ear and began to whisper.

Devlin

Devlin battled melancholy as he drove the little pony cart across the bumpy road to the Hardins' cabin. The hotel photographer sat in the back cradling his camera in his lap and muttering complaints about the rough ride. But Devlin didn't mind the bumps. They were a part of his memories of this place, and since he wouldn't travel this road for a while after tonight, he intended to savor every little jar and jolt.