Over the Misty Mountains (33 page)

“Nothing like bear meat to put some spizzerinctum in ya!” He grinned as he and Sequatchie dressed out the huge animal.

“What are you going to do with the skin, Hawk?” Andrew asked.

“I’m going to give it to you, if you want it. It will make you a nice rug on the floor of your new home, Andrew.”

“Do you really mean it, Hawk?”

Hawk reached out and rubbed the boy’s head. “Of course I mean it. It’ll be pretty smelly for a while, but I’ll show you how to scrape it. We’ll fix a rack for it, and you’ll have the best bearskin rug in the whole country.”

Elizabeth squeezed Patrick’s arm and whispered, “That’s wonderful. He looks up to Hawk.”

“Yes, he does. I’m glad of it, but I wish Hawk would turn back to God. We need to help Hawk find his way back to God.”

Sequatchie, who had been skinning the bear, waited until he was alone with Hawk, and then he said, “That was good. What you did for the boy.”

“Ah, it’s just a bearskin. There are lots of other bears in this woods.”

Sequatchie wanted to say, “Your own son could use something like this,” but he did not. He kept his lips closed firmly together, but later he went to have a long talk with Paul Anderson.

Anderson listened intently, even though he already knew most of what was eating at Hawk Spencer. “He’s wrong about Jake,” Paul said. “He’s lost the best part of raising him, and now the boy’s how old, fourteen? And it’s killing Hawk. You know a man can get killed as surely from something like this as he can from a bullet in a brain.”

“Yes, he is a bitter man. Bitter at himself.” Sequatchie nodded sadly.

As Sequatchie moved away, Anderson watched him go, thinking,
That Cherokee has more wisdom than most graduates of William and Mary
.

****

The next day they reached a swollen creek that was more like a river. Hawk stood looking down at the muddy brown waters that rolled past, measuring the distance to the other side. The men all came to stand with him, and the women stayed behind, some holding the children, their eyes filled with consternation.

“That’s a mighty bad river,” John Russell muttered.

“Too bad,” another settler said. “Ain’t no way to get across that.”

“What do you think, Hawk?” Paul Anderson said.

“It is a bad river. I think we’re going to have to wait, but the trouble is it’s been raining over there.” He pointed to the east. “Up in those mountains. They’re all full of water, and it’s still raining.”

Sequatchie, who was standing nearby said, “Yes, there is still rain over there.”

“What does that mean, Hawk?” John Russell asked.

“It means this creek’s going to be up for a long time. Maybe a week, or even two.”

A groan rose from the group, and they began complaining and muttering. “Now—what are you going to do about it?” one of the men, a tall, lanky individual named Simmons, asked Hawk. He was truculent and always seemed to argue about everything.

“Well, I think I’ll just wave my staff over it like Moses did, then we can cross like the Israelites did the Red Sea,” Hawk said. “Would that suit you, Simmons?”

“You don’t have to be makin’ fun of the Bible!” Simmons snapped.

“Then you don’t have to be asking me what we’re going to do! I can’t control that river!” Hawk snapped back.

“Hawk’s right,” George Russell said. “We’ll just have to wait it out.”

The men went back to their wagons and set up camp. They waited for five days, and during that time, the river did not go down one inch. Day after day, the strong current scoured the banks, sometimes pulling trees down, tearing them out by their roots and rolling and tossing them upside down.

Hawk kept to himself. Hunting was hard, and he stayed out in the dense forest, looking for game. They had run out of salt. What little they had had been spoiled by the first storm, and those not accustomed to going without complained about the blandness of the meat.

When the river finally went down, Simmons and a few others came to Hawk and said, “We can cross that river now. I’ve crossed worse streams.”

Hawk looked at the water carefully. Though it appeared smooth enough, Hawk shook his head. “That river’s still treacherous. If the animals step in a hole that’s been gouged out by the current, they could disappear.”

But Simmons was insistent. “We can send a rider across—or you can go. And if a horse can make it, a team and a wagon can surely make it.”

Hawk refused at first, but after another day the river did seem calm enough. “What do you think, Sequatchie?” he asked.

“May be safe now.”

Hawk hesitated, then said, “All right.” He looked at the men who were waiting and said, “Get hitched up. I think we can try it.” Instantly everyone flew into action, and soon all the pack animals and wagons were ready. “I’ll let you try it, Sequatchie.” Hawk grinned. He slapped his friend on the shoulder and said, “Don’t let anything happen to you. You hear me?”

“It is not my time.”

Hawk looked with surprise at the Indian. “What do you mean, not your time? You don’t know when you’re going to die.”

“I know it will not be today. The good Lord Jesus has given me peace.”

Hawk looked at his friend grimly and muttered, “I wish He’d give me some.” Then, as if ashamed of uttering the words, he said, “All right. Go ahead and see how safe the bottom of that river is.”

Sequatchie mounted his horse, and everyone gathered to watch as he made his way across. The horse, a sturdy buckskin, moved slowly, held back by Sequatchie’s hands. The water came up to his stomach, and then a little higher. They all held their breath—but then he reached shallower water, and Sequatchie’s mount climbed out on the other side. He turned and waved. “If you come exactly as I have come, it will be all right.”

“Let’s go,” Hawk said. “We’ll cross one at a time.” He rode across with the first team, determined to take every precaution. George Russell was mounted on the opposite side. He felt the power of the current as it moved the wagon sideways more than five feet. Hawk’s horse was nearly caught and momentarily floundered, but he tugged at the bridle and yelled to the team, as did Russell on the other side, and the animals’ hooves found safe footing.

When they reached the other bank, Russell looked at Hawk and said, “I didn’t like the feel of that. That current’s still mighty strong.”

“You’re right about that,” Hawk said. “We’ll have to go ahead now. We can’t be on both sides of this creek.”

The next three wagons went over with little difficulty, for Russell and Hawk were aware of the power of the current now, and they had directed the others to the solid bottom. Sarah sat in the wagon seat between her father and mother when their turn came. She was frightened and reached out and grasped for her father’s hand. He took it and looked down at her. “Why, you’re not afraid, are you, Sarah?”

“I am scared,” Sarah whispered, her face so pale that her freckles stood out.

Her manner of speaking brought concern to the face of Patrick MacNeal. “Why, you don’t have to worry. You’ve seen those other wagons go over safely.”

“I’m afraid of water, Papa!” Sarah cried out.

Her parents glanced at each other. They knew her fear was real. Sarah, unlike Andrew who loved the water, could never be enticed to go swimming or do anything but get her feet wet on the banks of lakes or creeks. “It’ll be all right,” Elizabeth assured her. “We’ll be on the other side soon. You’ll see.”

Rhoda was riding her horse beside the wagon, and she too saw the fright in the girl’s face. She called out, “Don’t worry, Sarah, it’ll be all right!” The child, trying to smile, looked at her and waved.

They started across with Hawk and Russell leading the team, and at first everything went well. But then, without warning, a sunken log struck the rear wheels of the wagon. Elizabeth made a grab for the seat, almost slipping into the murky waters below. Then she saw Sarah, who had lost her white-knuckled grip, thrown off balance. She watched in horror as Sarah suddenly fell out into the muddy waters.

“Sarah!” Elizabeth screamed, and would have gone after her, but Patrick reached out and grabbed her.

“Here, you hold the team. I’ll get her!” Patrick said, handing the lines to Elizabeth.

Hawk had already seen the child fall. Seeing her pale face disappear as she tried to scream, he drove his horse forward. When the horse stumbled and went down, he swam with strong strokes. For the first time in years, he prayed, although he was not fully aware of doing so.
Oh, God, let me find her. Let her come up again, so I can see her . . . !

Even as he prayed, the child surfaced only a few feet in front of him, struggling to keep her head up. With two powerful strokes, he lunged and reached for her, catching her hair in his hands. He pulled her up, rolled over on his back, and whispered, “It’s all right now, Sarah. Don’t be afraid!”

Hawk could hear the yells of the others from the riverbank, and the power of the current had him, but he was a strong swimmer. He held Sarah’s head high in the air as he swam on his back with one arm. Soon his feet touched bottom, and he turned and put both arms under Sarah. The mud sucked at his feet, but he climbed out onto the bank, and when he was clear of the river, he sat down and held the trembling girl.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?”

Sarah buried her face in his chest, sobbing. He put his arms around her and held her, feeling her body tremble in violent spasms. “You’re all right, aren’t you, honey?” he asked anxiously.

“Y-yes, but I was so afraid!”

Hawk felt a wash of relief. He suddenly thought,
Well, that’s one prayer that God answered
. . . . Looking over to where Russell was helping the team ashore, he saw Elizabeth standing up and holding her hand over her bosom. Patrick was urging the team forward like a maniac, his face pale.

“It’s all right! It’s all right!” Hawk yelled. “She’s fine!”

Finally, Hawk got up and walked down the side of the river, carrying the girl. She seemed so very small and fragile to him. By the time he got to the wagons, Elizabeth had leaped down, and she and Patrick had come to take the child. Hawk surrendered her to them and turned and walked away.

Rhoda came over at once. She got off her horse and said, “It’s a good thing you were there or she would’ve drowned.”

“She might have,” Hawk said, wiping the water from his face.

Rhoda looked at the river, and then back at the couple holding the weeping child. Andrew had come now and stood beside them, reaching out to pat his sister on the back. “It would have killed them if that girl had died.”

“I think you’re right,” Hawk nodded.

“I know what preacher Anderson will say,” Rhoda said suddenly.

“What?”

“He’ll say that God was in it. That He had you in that place, at that time, just to save that child.”

“That’s what Sequatchie will say, too.” Hawk nodded, a grin pulling the corners of his lips upward.

“You know, I never thought about God much before this trip.”

Surprised, Hawk looked down at the woman. “Are you afraid of death, Rhoda?”

“Sure I am! Aren’t you?”

Hawk considered the question. “I put it out of my mind. That’s a foolish thing to do, I guess. My father and mother taught me better. You haven’t been converted, have you?”

“The likes of me? What kind of a Christian would I make? You know what I’ve been!”

Hawk put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. Her honesty touched him. He knew she had had a hard life, and now he remembered many things about her. “Don’t listen to people like me,” he said. “You listen to Paul and to the MacNeals and to Sequatchie. They’ve got the right of it.”

“Well, what about you? You won’t listen to them.”

Hawk stared at the girl. His black hair was plastered against his face, and he looked at her strangely. “I’m a fool,” he said, “but that’s no reason for you to be one. You listen to the preacher.” He turned and walked away, and Rhoda looked after him wonderingly.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Living Water

After the traumatic crossing of the river, Hawk decided it would be best for the group to stop for the rest of the day. It would also give the horses time to rest after fighting the strong current. The MacNeals were still shaken over the ordeal. Elizabeth had quickly taken Sarah to change her clothes while Patrick started a fire.

Paul Anderson, at once, went to Hawk and said, “I think it would be good to hold a service to thank God for sparing our lives.”

“Go ahead, preacher,” Hawk said. “You don’t have to ask my permission.”

At once Anderson moved among the travelers, announcing the service. After they had set up camp, almost the entire group gathered together beside the river. The skies were clear, but there was a bite in the air, a reminder that winter would soon be upon them. The wind was blowing, but the men removed their hats, which they rarely did for any occasion, and the breeze stirred their hair.

Paul Anderson stood upon a small rise and looked out over his small congregation. He paused for a moment, then said, “Patrick, would you lead us in a few hymns?”

Patrick, who had a fine tenor voice, began to sing, and soon the voices of the others joined him. As he led them in the hymn, “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” by Isaac Watts, the words of the first stanza took on new and added meaning to all who were singing:

O God, our help in ages past,

Our hope for years to come,

Our shelter from the stormy blast,

And our eternal home!

At first the service seemed rather feeble, for there was a sense of loneliness in the great wilderness. The trees swayed about them like giants, and already the leaves were beginning to turn colors. But there was something about the young minister that spoke of hope. After the singing was over, he read his text, which came from Matthew 5:6. “Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled.”

He turned the pages of his Bible and said, “Let me read another verse.” He read the verse aloud in a clear voice, “‘As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.’ And let me add to these one more verse to tie all things together. In the fourth chapter of the book of John, Jesus met a woman. He was tired and thirsty, so He asked her for a drink of water. She was surprised by His request, because men did not speak to women, especially Jewish men to Samaritan women. Jesus said, ‘If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.’”