The Braxtons of Miracle Springs (21 page)

It was nearly sunset of a long and tiring day. I had probably covered fifteen or twenty miles altogether, and most of it over hilly and rocky terrain. I was sleepy and exhausted and already starting to think of making camp for the night, when suddenly I heard a shot in the distance.

It was not so close that the sound made me start. But instantly I reined in the mare and listened intently. I was sure it had been gunfire. I judged the distance to be a mile or two.

After about ten seconds, another shot sounded.

I lashed at the rump of the mare and made for the spot the sound had come from. It didn't occur to me the danger I could put myself in. What if it was a stranger who didn't take kindly to someone riding in and disturbing his game? Or what if I had not heard the sound of hunters at all but of a gunfight and now was riding right into the middle of it?

At the time, however, I didn't think of such things. I only knew there were people out there somewhere, and I had to find out who they were!

I rode hard. No other sound met my ears except the clomping of the mare's hoofed feet over rocks and dirt and dried grass and brush.

At an angled incline, I rode down the slope of the Sawtooth, now up a steep short rise, across its top, where I looked this way and that, then down the other side toward Burnett Canyon, across a creek, up a short uneven hill, and toward a wide meadow that spread out at the bottom of the canyon.

Gradually I slowed. I was just about to despair again, thinking I must have mistaken the direction of the gunfire, when I heard a welcome cry.

“Corrie!” came a shout.

I reined in and turned, glancing frantically about.

There was Tad running toward me from a wooded area at the edge of the meadow!

I turned toward him several paces, then leapt down and ran into his arms.

“Tad . . . I didn't think I'd ever find you!”

“What are you doing here?” he exclaimed.

“Where's Pa?” I said, suddenly remembering the urgency of what had brought me out into the mountains.

“Back there,” answered Tad, tossing his head back in the direction from which he had come. “And how
did
you find us?”

“Jump up behind me,” I said, “and I'll tell you as we go.”

I remounted, then made room for Tad's foot in the stirrup. A few seconds later he was sitting on the mare's back, behind my saddle, and holding on around my waist. I gave him the reins, and he urged the tired horse forward at an easy canter.

“However you found us, you were lucky,” said Tad.

“Why's that?”

“Because this morning we were making due south from here.”

“What brought you back?”

“Pa got onto a bear, and we tracked it back up this way all day.”

“Was that the shot I just heard?”

“I think so. I was out on the eastern flank, so I'm just making my way back in the direction of the others to see if they got the brute.”

Ten minutes later we were riding into the little camp they had made about an hour before. Christopher, Uncle Nick, and twelve-year-old Erich were the only ones there.

I jumped down and was crying in Christopher's arms the next instant, with questions coming at me from all three at once. Before I had the chance to answer them, however, Pa came tramping into the little clearing, holding his rifle.

“Got him!” he exclaimed. “He's back about seventy or eighty yards. It's gonna take every one of us to move—”

He stopped, suddenly seeing me in their midst.

“Corrie!” he cried, “what in tarnation are
you
doing here?”

The next moment Zack came bounding in.

“Great shot, Pa! That bear didn't have a—”

Now it was his turn to notice me. Gradually the hubbub died down.

“I snuck out in the middle of the night,” I said. “I had to try to find you before you came back.”

“Why—what in tarnation for?” exclaimed Pa.

“It started with a knock on the door,” I said, “yesterday morning.”

“Who was it?” Already Pa's expression had grown serious.

“He didn't give his name, Pa,” I said. Then I described him. I saw Zack's face begin to lose its color. “He just asked for you,” I said, “then Zack.”

I went on to explain the rest of what had happened, including how the man had stopped Almeda and threatened her.

Everyone listened intently until I was through with what I had come to tell them.

After I was done, the silence gathered itself for a few seconds like a giant thundercloud. It didn't take long for the storm to break.

“Why, that miserable no-good scum,” shouted Pa, “I'll kill him!”

He was mounting his horse the next instant, his face red, and fury in his eyes. I'd never in my life seen him with such an expression.

Christopher jumped up and grabbed Pa's arm from where it was clutching the saddle.

“Drum, don't!” he cried. “It's not the best way.”

“Don't try to stop me, Braxton!”

Pa shook loose Christopher's grip, then swung his leg up over the horse's back and onto the saddle.

“Drum . . . no!” said Christopher, and his voice was one of command. As he spoke, he quickly reached up and yanked the reins from out of Pa's hands. Then he stood calmly right in front of the horse and blocked his way.

“Confound you, Braxton!” shouted Pa, and it was obvious he was fighting-mad. “I failed my family once on account of that man, and I don't aim to do it again. Now get outta my way before I knock you down!”

Christopher stood his ground.

Pa grabbed for the reins, then lashed at his gelding. It immediately lurched forward, sending Christopher sprawling to his back in the dirt. I was terrified and ran to him.

Pa wheeled and headed for the edge of the clearing. But from where he still lay on the ground, Christopher called after him.

“When you ran off before,” he cried, “it was only to make yourself a thief. If you go after this man now, Drum Hollister, you won't be helping your family at all! You'll be making Almeda the wife of a murderer!”

Christopher's words sounded as a thunderclap to punctuate the storm that had erupted over the tiny clearing.

Pa reined in the horse and stopped.

The air hung heavy and silent, as if echoing the word over and over in all of our ears—
murderer . . . murderer . . . murderer!

Pa turned his mount's head and walked slowly back as Christopher climbed to his feet.

We all stood spellbound. I was terrified, yet unable to move so much as a muscle.

Pa dismounted and walked slowly forward, then stood in front of Christopher. Both men were breathing heavily.

“In my younger years I'd have horsewhipped you for saying a thing like that,” said Pa. His voice was soft. The anger had drained from him.

“I'm sorry, Drum,” said Christopher, returning Pa's gaze with an intensity of love. “But you're too good a man for this. You're a man of God. You can't do what other men might do.”

Still Pa stood, looking him straight in the eye.

“Besides which,” Christopher added, “I love you too much to let you do what was in your mind a minute ago. I'd sooner shoot you out of love with the rifle you gave me than let you shoot another man out of anger and hate.”

Still Pa stood.

“You'd shoot me to protect a man like Harris?” he said finally, not sure if he'd heard Christopher aright.

“No,” replied Christopher. “But I would do it to protect
you
from shooting him. The harm you were about to do was to
yourself
.”

Gradually Pa saw his meaning and slowly nodded.

“When we tell the Lord he can have his way with us,” Christopher repeated, “we can't do what other men might do. We've relinquished that right.”

A moment or two more they stood, my father and my husband—father-in-law and son-in-law.

Pa nodded again, this time more decisively.

“You're right,” he said, then stepped back, glanced away, and let out a sigh. “I'm much obliged to you for stopping me. What you did took guts.”

He gave Christopher his hand.

“I understand a little how you feel,” said Christopher, shaking it. “Part of me is fighting mad that he threatened Corrie, too. But we've prayed for that man, Drum. We can't just go rushing off now and try to shoot him or lynch him. We prayed for his good. There's an obligation on us. We have to do what God would have us do, not what we might do if left to ourselves.”

“What do you figure that is?” asked Pa, letting out a sigh and stooping down. He took a seat on the ground. All thought of retrieving the bear he had just shot was now far from his mind.

“I don't know,” replied Christopher, sitting down next to him. “We're going to have to talk about it, I imagine, and then ask him.”

I sat down beside Christopher. Gradually Uncle Nick and Erich, Tad and Zack sat down too. It was quiet again for a moment.

“I'm sorry I knocked you over,” said Pa to Christopher. “You okay?”

“Nothing a little liniment from the hands of my wife won't fix,” laughed Christopher. “I've been knocked around worse by unruly horses.”

“Well, you got my apologies anyhow.”

“Think nothing of it, Drum.”

They were silent a minute, then Pa's mind came back to the present.

“Well,” he said, looking around at the others, “if we still have any thoughts about saving that bear meat, we'd better get back and bleed him and cool him before he stiffens up any more than he has already.”

They all rose and followed Pa through the woods.

I built a small fire while in the twilight the men went to slit the bear's throat and stomach to bleed him and keep him from bloating. They hoisted it up by his feet with ropes slung over a stout tree branch to cool it down and drain out the last of the blood. Then after about fifteen minutes, they hauled him back to camp, where the hulking brown and blood-smeared carcass now lay covered with sheets and blankets at the edge of the small clearing.

If I could smell it, which I could, certainly so could animals for miles around. Somehow I had the feeling they would be able to detect what I yet couldn't, that death was now mingled with its odor, and I suspected we might have unfriendly visitors before morning.

Now the men were back, and the fire was blazing. A night nip was in the air too. I was so glad I'd found them!

We had been talking quietly while the moon rose and the darkness completed its descent.

Zack and Pa were for setting out immediately in the direction of home. The rest of us were of mixed opinions. Everybody had their ideas and suggestions, but none of us knew what was the best thing to do. There was the night to think of, and the footing between here and Miracle Springs was not the best for horses even in the middle of the day. But we were afraid for Almeda and Katie and Becky and the children. It gave us all the shivers just to think of them being watched by that horrible man, and all of us so far away and unable to do anything.

What if he wanted food and took it into his head to go down to the house and get what he wanted from Almeda? What if he forced himself upon her? He'd seen me when I'd answered the door—what if he discovered I was gone and got mad and took it out on the others?

There were so many what-ifs, and none of them were good! The longer we sat there talking, the more I could see Pa getting agitated again.

“I'm for saddling up and heading down the mountain,” said Uncle Nick after a lengthy pause. “I don't like the thought of that varmint hanging around there watching my family.”

Suddenly we all knew the decision had been made. It wasn't even a matter of whether it was the right or wrong thing to do. We
had
to go, and now.

“The sky's clear enough,” said Zack. “The horses'll make it fine if we don't push them.”

“We gotta go back tonight,” agreed Pa, “or at least get close enough and then stop for a couple hours' sleep.”

Sleep!
I was
so
tired . . . I could barely stay awake now as it was! How could I possibly ride all night?

“What about the bear, Pa?” asked Tad.

Pa thought a minute.

“The meat hardly seems important alongside what's at stake now.”

“How long would it take us to cut it and pack it up and load it onto the pack horses?” asked Christopher.

“Half-hour, an hour maybe,” suggested Uncle Nick, “to skin and quarter it and salt and wrap him up good.”

“Yeah,” sighed Pa, “I reckon we might as well take the brute with us. That's what we came for. What the horses can't carry we'll leave for the mountain lions. We'll smoke and dry the meat as soon as we get home. Or as soon as. . . .”

He didn't finish. A few nods went around. The men all rose to their feet, took out their knives, and began the gruesome work. I wanted no part of the awful, messy process! I rose and went in the other direction and began saddling up the horses, one at a time.

About forty minutes later, the chunks of what used to be a bear were caked with salt and wrapped up tight to keep the flies out and roped onto the backs of the pack horses. All the other horses were saddled and the gear loaded. The horses were moving around uneasily, unsettled by the excitement and the bear smell.

The men came and sat down around the dying fire again for one round of coffee to empty the pot we'd made an hour earlier.

We were quiet a few seconds. By now it was dark. The fire flickered low.

Then Christopher spoke.

“There is one more thing we need to pray for before we go,” he said. “It will not take long, and the situation is dangerous.”

“We're listening, Christopher,” said Pa.

“We have to pray for protection,” said Christopher.

He let his words sink in just a moment, then went on.

“Even though we're so far away, we can pray for our Father to surround Almeda and Katie and Becky and Ruth and Nick's little ones with his care. We can pray for his hand to shield them from harm. We can pray, as the Bible says, for him to build a hedge of spiritual protection around those two homes that no evil can penetrate. We can even pray for God to send angels to stand guard around them and watch over and protect them.”

“Do you really believe in angels?” asked Tad, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“You bet I do, Tad,” replied Christopher. “And I believe God wants us to ask him to send angels to help us. You've heard of guardian angels?”

“You mean those angel-women with wings you see in picture books? Sure, but I always figured they were just for little kids and babies in cradles.”

“We're all babies in cradles, Tad,” smiled Christopher. “This whole world is our cradle. It's just that the older we get, the less we realize it. No, guardian angels are for
all
men and women. That's their job, to guard and protect us. We only need to ask, and God will send them about their work. When we pray these things—asking God for protection, asking him to build a hedge around us to keep out the devil and send his angels to guard us—we can know that he hears and will answer our requests. The Old Testament tells of a time when the Israelites looked out over the battlefield and saw the warrior angels fighting for them.”

We all took in Christopher's words.

“How do you know so much about these kinds of things?” asked Tad.

Christopher laughed lightly. “I spent a good many years studying them. It was my profession, remember. I was
supposed
to know about spiritual things to help the people in my churches. Of course, knowing them and experiencing them by practice are two different things. I don't know about God's protection because I studied about it, but because I've learned how to pray for protection in my own life.”

He paused.

“But I don't think your Pa wants to hear about that right now,” he added. “I'll tell you all about it later, Tad, if you want. Right now we need to pray and then get on our way.”

“Go on ahead, Christopher,” said Pa. “What you just said is new to me, and I'm curious to know more. But you're right about us needing to get a move on. So for the time being
you
pray, and we're all in agreement with you.”

Christopher nodded. He and Pa were back to the way it had long been between them, trusting each other completely. It warmed my heart to see it after the dispute that had erupted earlier.

“Our Father,”
Christopher prayed,
“we ask for your
protection. Encircle our dear loved ones round about with a
hedge as is said you did for your servant Job.
Undergird them with your one hand and cover them over with your other. Send your guardian angels to stand round
those two homes as mighty invisible warriors for truth, repelling any advance against them by the enemy. Keep the man
Harris at a good distance, and let no harm come to them.”

Christopher paused, but only momentarily.

“And now,
Lord,”
he went on,
“we pray for your protection
for ourselves as well. Guide our way as we return.
Send your angels to go before us. Watch over us,
make straight our paths, protect our animals from misstep.”

Again he paused.

“There is yet one more thing we
need to pray for,”
he said.
“We mustn't
forget the Lord's injunction—we are commanded to pray
for our enemies.”

The silence which followed was deep. Now that lives were in danger, what we had done months earlier took on a whole new meaning. It hadn't been easy for Pa to pray for that man back then. Now it was
really
hard. Yet every one among us knew well enough that Christopher was right. If we couldn't obey the Lord's commands in the crucible of trial, then I don't suppose it meant very much that we did them when everything was pleasant.

There was barely flame left in the fire. We all stared into it, mesmerized by the small flickers struggling to keep going. It was Pa's voice that broke the silence.

“Well, Lord,”
he said,
“I don't claim
that it's an easy thing to do, but I'm gonna summon what little willpower I've got to
pray again for Jesse Harris. I don't especially like
doing it. But if you told us to, then I
figure there's gotta be a good reason. So I
pray for him, and I pray that you'd do whatever you've got a mind to do with him.
In the meantime, show us what we're supposed to do about him, because right now I can't see
how I can pray for good to come to him on the one hand and go down out of here
and try to keep him from killing me and my son on the other. If you've got some way
to do both, I reckon you'll have to show me. That's about it, Lord . . . amen.”

I hadn't even realized it, but sometime during Pa's prayer we had all taken hands, and now we sat in a circle around the fire with our hands in one another's—me and Christopher, Pa, Tad, Uncle Nick, Erich, Zack, and back to me.

A few quiet amens followed from the rest of us.

“There is one of the Psalms,” said Christopher, “which is a beautiful promise from God about the many ways in which he will protect his people. I memorized it long ago and say it whenever I am facing any kind of anxious circumstance—both as a prayer offered to God and as a reminder of his promise. I would like to say it now, as our way of committing what follows into his hands. Join in with me as you can. Most of it will be familiar to you.”

Then Christopher began, and we sat there, the six of us hand in hand, staring into what was now merely a pile of glowing embers, quietly saying aloud together the words of the ninety-first Psalm.

“
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty,”
Christopher began.
“I will say of the Lord, He is
my refuge and my fortress: my God. In him will
I trust.”

I joined in with him as best I could, and soon the others were voicing out the familiar promises.

“Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare
of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall
cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night;
nor for the arrow that flieth by day; nor for
the evil that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction
that wasteth at noonday.

“A thousand shall fall at
thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but
it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes
shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.
Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil
befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.
For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee
up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder:
the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.”

Christopher paused.

“The psalm ends,” he said, “as from the mouth of God himself, speaking out his personal promise to those who give their lives into his care. As we say these words, try to remember that our Father is actually saying this
to us
right now at this fearful time.”

He took a breath, then continued.

“Because
he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he
hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and
I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long
life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.”

“Amen,” said Pa, after a brief silence.

“And now,
Lord, we commit our way to you,”
added Christopher.

We released hands and stood. Uncle Nick kicked at the fire with his boot. The boys joined him, and soon we were left with only smoke ascending in the glow of the moon.

We turned and walked to the waiting horses, then mounted up. Pa took the lead, and the rest of us followed him back in the general direction from which we had come.