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His heart was beating too fast, his mouth was dry and his feet felt like iron. His hands were trembling, the stairwell seemed too narrow, the door was too far away, and his thoughts were in utter chaos – when Gideon started up the stairs. Afraid to hope, afraid to pray even, he slowly climbed until he was standing in the open doorway. Their backs were to him and Polly’s voice was filling the room:
“Glo ... o ... o ... o ... o ... oria, in excelsis deo.
Glo ... o....”
Finally, he took a forgotten breath and let his eyes sweep quickly past the white people. Then there was Whistler, Lilly, Seth, Harry, Isabelle, and...
Polly had stopped singing and all eyes were turning toward him. Then suddenly, Cesha was in his arms with her head thrown back and her mouth uttering shrieks of joy.
He was stunned. For a long moment, his brow was deeply wrinkled and his mouth agape. “You are alive?” he finally managed to ask.
“Yes!” Cesha shouted.
Then the words began tumbling out of his mouth, “I did not think you could be, I’ve looked everywhere. How did you get to France? Is Reanie mine? Have they hurt you—”
“Gideon,” Cesha whispered.
“What?”
“If you don’t kiss me, I’ll faint dead away.”
“So will I,” Rose said.
At last, Gideon wrapped his huge arms around her, lifted her off the floor and lowered his lips to hers. The whole room erupted in applause and laughter. John moved closer to Polly, Rose put her head on Adam’s shoulder and Thomas sheepishly took Emiline’s hand. Whistler winked at Lilly, Harry pecked Isabelle on the cheek and Seth bit into yet another slice of honey bread.
Uriah watched Thomas take Emiline’s hand and rolled his eyes.
“Monsieur,” Reanie said, tugging on Uriah’s coat, “it is time.”
“Indeed it is, Reanie, indeed it is. Go to the window and soon you will see a magnificent sight,” Uriah said. He watched her hurry to the window and then quietly slipped out the door, down the stairs, and through the kitchen.
Quickly putting on his heavy coat, hat and scarf, he grabbed a lantern, hurried out the door and then paused. The night air was still.
“Perfect,” he muttered, continuing on up the path to the ridge. The light of a full moon cast a bright blue glow on the snow.
Inside, Cesha took Gideon’s hand and led him to his daughter. “Reanie?”
“Oui, Madame Mama,” Reanie answered, her nose pressed hard against the window.
“This is your papa.”
Reanie quickly turned to look. “This one? But he said he was not.”
“I was mistaken,” Gideon said.
“Are you mistaken often, monsieur?”
Cesha looked up at her husband and giggled. “She may look like me, but she has your mind.”
“She’s more precious than gold,” Thomas put in. “I beg of you, Gideon, can you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you, I’d have never thought to look in France,” Gideon answered.
“Madame Polly, Look!” Reanie shouted. One by one, candle lights began to appear on the ridge and soon they formed the outline of a huge star.
“‘Tis the star of Bethlehem,” Reanie whispered.
“Indeed it is,” Polly said, then she began a new song:
“Oh little town of Bethlehem...
How still we see thee lie...
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep...
The silent stars go by.”
The others joined in, all except Gideon, who couldn’t take his eyes off his wife’s face or the little girl staring at the star in wonderment. Finally, he leaned closer to Reanie. “Shall I hold you higher?” he asked.
“Oui, Monsieur Papa,” She let him lift her, but instead of quickly turning back to see the star, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck and hugged him. With one arm around his wife and the other holding Reanie, Gideon lifted his eyes to heaven and bit his quivering lip. A tear began to roll down his cheek.
The song had ended and everyone was looking at the star in silence. Polly put an arm around John. “And on this night seventeen hundred and eighty-eight years ago,” she said, “a child was born, who would become the Savior of the world. Glory be to the Father and to the Son.”
*
WITH THE CANDLES ALL lit, Uriah brushed the snow off a rock and sat down. “There,” he said, looking above the snow-covered trees at the millions of bright stars in the sky, “all is well settled, my love. Gideon is home, Cesha and Reanie are found and Polly is ours. All is well settled indeed, save for a grandson or two.” He paused long enough to turn his collar up and wrap his long coat around his knees. “How very fortunate we are. But Mary, I do wonder. How is it, in a world filled with misery, we do so very well? Why does my son live while Laughing Rain’s does not? Laughing Rain is a far better man than I. I don’t imagine I’ve the courage to help a family through the plague.”
Uriah took a deep breath, slowly let it out, glanced back to see that the candles remained lit, and then turned his eyes once more to the heavens. “I have finished the Book, this very day, in fact. I have found the way to heaven. I have washed my muddy feet and I want to go home to you and to God. I would see His house of pure white satin, read His books of knowledge, feast at His table and abide in His love. Yet, I cannot think how John will manage without me, he being constantly plagued with swamp fever. He is alive, and gratefully so, but his service in the war cost him more than most.
“My love, should you see God, in passing that is, might you tell Him I wish to stay on earth a little longer. Our son needs me. And Mary, I’ve yet to settle that other matter.”
*
INSIDE, THEY WERE SINGING another Christmas carol when John glanced beyond the star on the ridge. Suddenly, he caught his breath. Behind his father, behind the star and seated high on a jet-black horse was an Indian wrapped in a bearskin cloak. In his hand, he held a musket high in the air.
“It is Tecumseh,” Polly beamed, pushing the windows open wide and waving.
Tecumseh lowered his musket and nodded.
Seated just below him, Uriah waved back.
Then Polly filled her lungs with air and began to sing:
“God rest ye merry gentlemen,
let nothing you dismay,
Remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas day...”
Before Uriah turned to look and before her song was finished, Tecumseh was gone.
*
SPRING 1789
On the first of March, when the birds had begun their migration north and the Magnolia trees were sprouting white and pink buds, John and Uriah gathered the men necessary to raise a new church for Parson Adlee Sax. They built it not far from the Kentucky River, so the parson could tend the needs of the settlers on the Wilderness Road. And when it was finished and the parson led the dedication prayer, Uriah delighted in keeping the parson’s secret from a sea of white faces.
Two months later, the night air was warm enough to forego a fire in the hearth at Maryridge. Uriah waited until Thomas left the sitting room and then quickly moved a chair closer to Emiline. “He thinks to ask for your hand in marriage,” he whispered.
“Does he?” she asked, her tea long since finished and set aside. “I see.”
“Emiline, tell me true, are you in need of funds?”
“Well, I could use a new weaving loom. I’ve nearly worn the old one out.”
“A new weaving loom it is, then.”
She turned her dubious eye on him. “Just like that? What are you up to now?”
“I cannot think why you’re so suspicious. I merely want to help a well-liked and highly valued neighbor.”
“Well liked and highly valued? You are up to something. Next, you’ll say you’ve grown fond of me. Well, before you do, allow me this. I am well liked by your son and daughter-in-law, and I am invaluable because I teach your runaways sewing.”
“Runaways?” he asked.
“Yes, runaways. You never scold them, they don’t have enough to do, you don’t beat them, and they don’t escape in the night. What other explanation could there be?”
“And if they were runaways?”
“If they were, I’d be inclined to help,” Emiline said. “I’ve come to like them, particularly Mrs. Ross. She tells the most delightful tales of Paris and when put upon, she tells the truth...a thing I find sorely lacking in your character.”
“Precisely what truth did she tell you?”
“She admitted Gideon is not a slave. Not that I hadn’t guessed, he being allowed to travel as he does.”
Uriah stood up, walked to the desk and poured himself another cup of tea. “I’m glad she told you. I’ve grown weary of deceiving you.”
“Have you? Then perhaps you’ll tell me about the jewels. They were in the clock, weren’t they? You knew I would guess, so you had Whistler craft a hollow frame for your sand painting. You’ve Indians constantly sneaking around the place, and what about Drewnard? I saw the flicker in your eyes when Thomas mentioned it. You know what it means, don’t you?”
Uriah set his cup of tea down, quickly returned to his seat and leaned closer. “If you must know, Drewnard was my dog. Sir William killed it and promised to kill me if I told. Sir William was evil and his son is...”
Just then, Thomas appeared in the doorway. “I apologize for keeping you waiting, my dear,” he said. He held her cape over his arm. “Shall we go? The hour is late and we’re off to Harrodsburg in the morning.”
“So we are,” Emiline stood up and allowed Thomas to help her on with her cape. “Will you be joining us, Uriah?”
“I’ve my own church to attend.”
“Till Monday, then,” Emiline said, taking the arm Thomas offered. “Perhaps someday, I’ll attend your church, now that I’ve gotten over the shock of you attending any church at all. A parson who doesn’t shout might be refreshing from time to time.”
“Any time you like,” Uriah said, holding the door for her. “In fact, I’d be pleased to take you there personally.”
Emiline’s mouth dropped. “Are you ill?”
“Of course not,” Uriah answered. “It’s just that the ride to Harrodsburg is tiring.”
“Yes, but if I did not ride to Harrodsburg, where would I sell my wares?”
“I’ve given it some thought,” Uriah answer, ignoring Thomas’ increasing annoyance. “In a month’s time, Adam will have his general store and scant little to sell. He’ll need your sewing.”
“And my sister in Harrodsburg?”
“Let her do the traveling.”
“Well, I admit it is a tempting offer,” she said.
“You’ll do it, then?”
“Most likely,” Emiline answered, walking out the front door, “but not before I discover what you’re up to. Good night, Uriah,” she went on, heading across the verandah with Thomas beside her.
Uriah quickly closed the door, hurried up the stairs to his bedchamber and slipped his hand under the mattress. He withdrew his long-barreled pistol and tucked it in the waistband of his breeches. “Evil begets evil,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair.
*
“BUT, JOHN, THEY CANST take the land from the Indians,” Polly said, climbing into bed beside him.
“My love, Indians kill harmless women and children.”
“Indians have women and children too. The white man thinks nothing of settling in a field of corn planted by Indians. How are Indians to live if we take their land?”
“Polly, they sided with the British in the war. By so doing, they have lost their land. I ask you, don’t Indians raid the villages of other tribes and take the spoils when the fighting is done? How is it just for them to do so and not for us?” he asked, carefully leaning over her to blow out the candle. He kissed her forehead before lying back down and wrapping his arms around her. “I adore you, but about this you are wrong.”
“I am not wrong. Indians take spoils, but not each another’s land.”
“They are not mindless, you have said so yourself. But they chose to side with the British. Did they think they risked nothing? And had the British won, wouldn’t the Indians have gladly taken our land?”
“And rightfully so, it was their land to begin with.”
“Aye, and the Colonies belonged to the British to begin with. Are you suggesting we give the Empire back to the king?”
“The king does not need the Empire, but the Indians cannot live without their land.” Polly was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the untied strings of his nightshirt. “Too many want the land. Tecumseh will never give it up.”
“I know.”
“He will die.”
John leaned his head against the top of hers and closed his eyes.
“Unfortunately, Papa is right, we have learned nothing and we will continue killing and being killed. We cannot seem to help ourselves. I wish it were not so, I truly do. I have seen the remnants of battle and witnessed the field strewn with lifeless bodies while other men openly weep – their beards filled with vomit and their hands red with blood. It is intolerable, yet, it is unending.”
“We must learn love,” Polly said.
“We’ve not the time to learn love. If we don’t soundly defeat the Indians, we’ll find ourselves in yet another bloody war with the British. Don’t you see, we cannot allow them to keep the land, Polly, we simply cannot.”
“But thou would not take Tecumseh’s land.”
“Me? Of course not.”
Polly snuggled closer and lifted her eyes to his. “I have seen him.”
“Tecumseh? When?”
“This day, while you were off to Lexington. The Shawnee have survived another winter and Tecumseh has gone south. He warns us not to go to the Cherokee village.”
“I see,” John said, adjusting his pillow and then placing his hand on her extended stomach. “Will he kick, do you think?”
“She always kicks at...”
Suddenly, a woman’s scream tore through the night.
John flew out of bed, pulled on his trousers and was just sliding his feet into his slippers when he heard the gunshot. Then there was another scream—this time louder and more frightening.
“Emiline,” he whispered, racing out the door. “Stay here,” he ordered, spotting Rose coming out her bedchamber door.
“What is it?” Adam asked, still in his nightshirt and cap as he hurried down the stairs behind John.
John opened the front door just in time to see Gideon racing around the corner of the house. Adam tried to keep up, but Gideon’s mammoth strides quickly took him down the lane and out of sight. Soon, John was at a dead run behind him.
Adam slowed. “In situations such as these,” he muttered, “I see no need to rush.”
Gideon crossed the road and started up the hillside to Emiline’s cabin. Twigs and rocks cut his bare feet and he could feel the sting of tree limbs scraping across his bare chest. Then he saw her. Emiline stood on her porch, the scant light from the half-opened door making her little more than a shadowy figure. Gideon slowed as he neared. Her hair was mussed and her blouse was torn in the front. Her eyes were wide and blood covered the front of her dress.
“Miss Emiline,” Gideon said, cautiously moving forward.
But John did not stop. He rushed up the steps and grabbed hold of her, “Are you shot?”
Emiline slowly shook her head. “Your father...”
*
JOHN HELD HIS BREATH. He gave Emiline to Gideon, placed the tips of his fingers on the nearly closed door and lightly shoved. Face down on the floor near the bed laid Thomas Rodes. Uriah stood over him with the pistol held firmly in his hand and still aimed at Thomas.
“Is he dead, Papa?”
“He’d bloody well better be,” Uriah answered with rage still in his eyes. “If he is not, I’ll shoot him again.”
John knelt down and peered into Thomas Rodes’ lifeless eyes. “He is dead.”
“Good, I am saved the trouble of reloading.”
The last to arrive, Adam skittishly peeked through the doorway. “You shot him in the back?”
“And a pity it is too,” Uriah said, storming toward the door. “I’d have enjoyed the look in his eyes.” He forced Adam to quickly step aside, passed Emiline without a second glance, tromped down the steps and headed down the path. “Bring her to Maryridge, Gideon,” he yelled.
“Yez, Massah.”
“And you can forget the Massah, she knows,” Uriah shouted.
“Yez.” Gideon started. But Uriah was already out of sight. “Miss Emiline, are you hurt?” he asked.
“Just my pride,” Emiline answered right before her tears turned to sobs. Her hands were trembling and her body had begun to shiver when Gideon leaned down, easily lifted her into his arms and started down the path to Maryridge.
*
IT WAS NEARLY TWO IN the morning when Uriah blew out all the candles. All accept the one in his bedchamber where Emiline lay beneath the covers of his bed. The entire household had quickly come to her aid. She was bathed, loaned a sleeping gown and given tea with a touch of whiskey in it. At last, she had calmed.
Uriah spread a blanket over her and then sat down beside her on the bed. “Will you be warm enough?” he asked.
“I think so. Will you stay with me a while? I don’t recall ever being quite so frightened.”
“I’ll stay as long as you like.”
“Have you told them?” she asked.
Uriah lowered his eyes, “I hoped to wait until we could think more clearly. They have guessed most of it already, after all, I shot him in the back and his blood was all over you.”
“Then we must tell the truth.”
“We cannot. I’ll not have people thinking ill of you. Besides, the fault is mine. I welcomed him into my home, I allowed him to call me Uncle, and I did not keep him under careful regulation. I’ll not allow my shortsightedness to cause you more suffering.”
“But the sheriff will ask... They’ll all ask.”
Uriah thought for a long moment. “We will say he thought to rob you.”
“And my torn dress?”
“Only the family knows about the dress and they’ll not say a word.”
Emiline buried her face in both hands and took a deep breath. “Thomas boasted of his wealth all over Harrodsburg. Who would believe he meant to rob me?”
“Well, we’ll say his wealth was of a fleeting kind.”
“Uriah, I am honored you would lie for me. But I find no disgrace in what happened. Thomas meant to force me. You stopped him as any gentleman would, and that’s what we should tell the sheriff.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“Quite,” she said, suddenly touching the side of his face. As quickly as she touched him, she took her hand away and lowered her eyes. “You are a good man, Uriah Carson.”
“Thank you.”
“Why did you follow us?”
“I knew something was amiss but couldn’t figure out what. So I read the storybook repeatedly, looking for the answer. Finally, last night I remembered. It was not Glenna who read to me when I was a child, it was I who read to her. Glenna could neither read nor write.”
“Then every word of it was a lie?”
“I don’t know. Whatever the truth, it was not Glenna who wrote the storybook, and therefore, Thomas Rodes lied. I suspect the story was begun by my mother and finished by Thomas Rodes himself, molded into a fable that would lead him to the jewels.”
They were both quiet for a little while, each deep in thought, until Emiline finally spoke, “Thank you for shooting him.”
“You might not be so grateful once you realize I might have injured you as well.”
“Yes, but he meant to kill me. He did mean to kill me, didn’t he?” she asked.
“Once he had his way with you? I have no doubt of it.”
“I refused his proposal.”
“I know.”
Emiline’s familiar ire began to flare. “Were you watching?”
“If you must know, yes.”
She glared at his defiant look and slowly began to smile. “You need a new shirt, and I’ve just the cloth. I’ll expect you on Wednesday for a fitting.”
“Do you mean with pins and things?”
“I promise not to poke you.”
Uriah’s smile finally matched hers. “Done then. And should you be inclined to reward me further, you might be a little less annoying.”
“In what way?”
“In every way. You do it intentionally, don’t you?”
She lowered her eyes. “I cannot seem to help myself. And I have decided to attend your church come Sunday.”
“You don’t think to sit with me, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I go to church to worship God and one cannot worship properly sitting next to a man who snores.”
“I do not snore,” he said, abruptly standing up.
“No louder than a herd of stampeding buffalo.”
“And what would you know of my snoring? Do you now admit to skulking round my bedchamber at night?”
“No, I don’t. You snore so loudly, I can hear you from my cabin.”
Uriah grabbed one of the candles and took hold of the doorknob. “Clear across the road? I find that highly unlikely. Good night, Mrs. Puddifoot. I would wish you a pleasant night’s sleep, but unfortunately, this night I am forced to sleep directly below you.”
With that, he turned the knob, slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind him. Then he paused. The light of the lone candle flickered across his face as he closed his eyes and waited. “Good night, Uriah,” he heard her say at last.
He smiled and walked toward the stairs. “Good night – my beloved Emiline.”