Messengers raced across Amity with the news. Celebrations broke out in every district, but in Stonewall and Waterfront, people also began preparations to return to their homes. All too soon their elation would turn to tears as they realized the cost of their freedom.
Amity would never be the same. Homes and fields had disappeared in smoke and ash. Whole forests had been set ablaze. Much of the verdant valley along the Crescent River resembled a barren wasteland.
Deep scars marred the land, and nearly every family had suffered loss. Yet for a brief moment all was set aside. The war was over!
Stonewall had been stocked with provisions for a siege, but now Rhoop began distributing goods to those most in need. The courtyard teemed with people looking for a handout, and it was wild with celebration.
Amid the ruckus, Mary desperately sought to find Katherine. Catching a glimpse of auburn hair, she waded into the crowd, not sure it was Katherine but afraid not to try. Bumped and jostled about, she lost sight of her quarry as she neared the hospital. Turning from the madness of the courtyard, she found relative calm and quiet in the wards.
When her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the building, she saw men sitting on their cots, calling out words of thanksgiving to one another. At the far end of the room, she spied Katherine, busily washing and bandaging wounds.
“Katherine!” she cried as she sped across the room. “What are you doing? The whole world is celebrating!”
“I know,” Katherine said calmly. “But celebrations don’t change these men’s bandages.”
Mary felt her face grow hot. She’d quite forgotten her duties in the joy of the moment. “Let me take your place.”
“There’s no need,” Katherine said. “I’ve seen the courtyard.”
“But you haven’t seen the messenger from Philip,” Mary said, her eyes twinkling.
Katherine gasped, her work entirely forgotten. “Does he have a letter for me?”
Mary gently pushed Katherine aside and took up her labor. “He’s in Lord Rhoop’s chambers,” she volunteered.
In a flurry of motion, Katherine brushed a kiss upon Mary’s cheek and fled the room.
Carefully unfolding the crisp paper, Katherine noted the bold handwriting. This letter had been written upon a table rather than a rock or someone’s knee. Trying to steady her hand, Katherine read the inscription.
Dearest Katherine,
I’m sure by now you have heard that the war is over. The Lord Almighty has spared Amity and has brought both Father and Thomas home. I have so much to be thankful for.
Father has aged terribly, and Thomas is different too. I think both suffered horribly during their time away, but enough about my family.
I suppose you have heard that Jabin was dethroned. Guess who took his place. Seagood! That’s right, our own Seagood.
There is some sad news too. Mercinor is dead. You were right all along. He was in Devia’s employ, but it may give you some consolation to know that Mercinor killed Master Devia in the end and thus brought this war to a close much sooner than we had hoped. For that, I am forever indebted to your cousin.
You may remember Jiles McCormick. We found him outside Devia’s palace. He was at the bottom of the tallest tower I have ever seen. Apparently he had fallen. I climbed that tower, and Katherine, you should see the view. It is breathtaking.
We hope to start home soon. I wish it was today, but both Father and Thomas feel we should move slowly. They want to spread encouragement and healing along the way. I know they are right, but I’m rather anxious to get home.
I spoke with your father yesterday, and that brings me to the point of this letter. Katherine, I cannot imagine living the rest of my life without you. Would you consider marrying me? Please don’t answer at once, but bring it to the Lord in prayer.
I have other news, but my heart is so full I cannot think clearly! Until we meet, I shall wait with bated breath to know your answer!
With love,
Philip
Katherine clutched the note tight to her breast. Tears spilled over her cheeks and onto the paper. “Yes, Philip,” she whispered, her heart overflowing. Turning, she raced for the hospital wards. “I’ve got to find Mary.”
After a few weeks at Green Meadow, Gaff made preparations to go home. He had helped John map a strategy for restoration, and then, feeling the need to return to his own people, he had declined to ride all the way to Stonewall.
With a hearty farewell, Gaff and his men departed Amity, leaving only Mathias behind. Mathias could not bear the thought of leaving Thomas. Jokingly Mathias predicted that he would remain a bachelor until his dying day. Never were any words more unfounded.
After weeks of work and waiting, the day of the Staffords’ departure finally arrived. Placing Commander Blakely in charge of Green Meadow for the interim, John Stafford’s parting words granted pardon far and wide. Not a dry eye remained in all of Green Meadow as John set out. Healing had begun.
With his men well rested, John made good time until he reached Headwater. There he was reminded of the hospital that had been established after the battle of Green Meadow. Stories of Jennifer and her brave deeds became the conversation of the hour. Thomas, Mathias, and a small company decided to ride out and see what had become of Jennifer and “her men.”
Evening was fast approaching as the men rode off, so they carried supplies to camp overnight, not knowing what they might find. They rode several miles up a winding valley until their path crossed a stream. During the entire ride they saw no signs of life or activity.
Climbing the hills into the forest, they suddenly entered a small clearing. Oil lamps illuminated a small cabin and the nearby barn. Men limped or hobbled about the barnyard, unaware of the visitors.
Thomas and his company had ridden quite some distance into the clearing before an alarm was raised. “Intruders! Man your weapons!”
The company halted, and Thomas called out, “Peace, friends. Do not be alarmed. The war is over!”
His words were met with stony silence. Disbelief was strong. The men in this camp had lived in isolation and fear for so long that hope had become a twisted mockery. They silently gripped their weapons, wary and aloof.
Thomas slowly rode toward a line of armed men. “Men of Amity, I am Thomas Stafford!”
“Don’t come any closer!” shouted a large man striding forward. “We don’t have anything you need.”
“Benya?” Thomas asked. “Is that really you?”
There was a low murmur among the men, and the big man stopped in his tracks.
“Benya Hefington!” Thomas called. “I know you! Don’t you remember me?”
The man stepped back a pace or two. Thomas was about to move forward again when a young woman appeared in the cabin doorway.
Jennifer stared, her eyes wide with wonder. In the dim light, she thought she beheld James Stafford with a beard. “My lord,” she whispered, stepping forward. “I thought you were dead! I was with your father when we buried you!”
Thomas smiled. Was he always to walk in his brother’s shadow? “Not so, my lady!” Thomas said. “I am not James. He is dead. I am his brother Thomas.”
Jennifer fell to her knees and cried, “My lord!”
That single gesture ripped all doubt and fear from every man in the clearing. Men crept cautiously from the shadows. “Is the war really over?” someone called.
“Yes,” Thomas responded.
“Praise the Lord!” someone shouted, and then bedlam broke loose. Men shouted and hugged each other for joy.
Mathias rushed forward to meet the brave and beautiful girl of so many stories. Never had he been so moved. When Jennifer looked up and their eyes met, Mathias lost his heart forever. He had seen all of Amity he needed to see. If this girl would have him, he silently vowed never to stray from her side.
Those from Jennifer’s hospital who could march home joined John Stafford at Headwater. Those who couldn’t were carried in wagons. When Bill Cotton was reunited with Larry Chavez, they became inseparable. Bill, with two good legs and one good arm, and Larry, with two good arms and one good leg, made a perfect match. Together they marched in the wake of Amity’s returning heroes.
Crowds met them at Zaraphath, but beyond that city the countryside was stark and barren. Few folks met them on the Greenway, and fewer still greeted them as they entered the war-torn village of Capri.
Bill searched the few faces that lined the streets of Capri and suddenly stiffened. Ella Walton stood some distance from the road. She was searching among the marching men for the one face she dearly longed to see.
Bill’s heart sank, and a flood of emotions washed over his soul. How can I tell her about Bob? he wondered. Nudging Larry, he pointed her out.
“Your woman?” Larry asked.
“Bob’s widow,” Bill answered.
Larry’s smile faded. “Hey, man. You don’t want me around!”
“Oh, yes, I do!” Bill gripped Larry’s shoulder more tightly. “I just don’t know how to tell her.”
“Just be honest,” Larry said.
Bill pulled Larry with him out of the column of marching men. He remembered Thomas’s invitation: “Remember, Bill, Stonewall is always open to you.” Part of Bill wished he could march straight to Stonewall today and miss this confrontation with Ella.
Bill knew that Ella did not recognize him as they made their way toward her. She continued to watch as men marched past her on their way home.
“Ella!” Bill called.
Ella Walton jumped at the sound of her name. It took her a few moments to place the voice, but once she did, she laughed. “Bill Cotton!”
Bill’s hair had grown long, and a heavy beard covered his once clean-shaven face. Ella would never have recognized him if not for his voice, and she tried to act sociable while still watching for her husband.
“Ella, this is Larry Chavez,” Bill said, nodding to the man at his shoulder. Larry flashed a grin and nodded.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Chavez.” Ella curtsied politely, and then she threw herself against Bill’s chest, hugging him tightly. Bill wrapped his stump around her shoulders and held her. Finally she looked into his eyes and asked, “Is Bob …?”
Bill’s eyes had clouded, and his lower lip was quivering as he shook his head.
Ella’s eyes grew large, and her face grew pale. Her body slumped against Bill, and she began to sob.
Bill held the trembling woman and remembered the day he had found Bob broken and dying in the road. His own tears spilled into Ella’s hair. They held each other tight, oblivious to the world for a long while. Larry remained still and watched the last of Stafford’s men march out of town.
Ella finally looked up and wiped her moist cheeks. “Are you sure, Bill?” she asked, her voice wavering.
Bill only nodded.
Ella took a deep breath and drew upon a deep inner strength. Wiping the muddy trails on Bill’s cheek, she asked, “Were you with him?”
Again Bill nodded.
“I’m glad,” she sighed. “At least he wasn’t alone.”
Bill struggled to find his voice. “He … really … loved you,” he faltered.
Her resolve failed, and she fell heavily against Bill, weeping unrestrained tears. There they stood, broken souls amid the rubble of a war-torn city. Finally Ella pulled her emotions together and withdrew from Bill’s embrace. Wiping her face with her hands, she looked at the men before her. “Well, if you two aren’t a sight!” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “I imagine you are exhausted too. It’s a long walk home, but I have a place you can rest, and we’ll get you something to eat after you clean up.”
Walking proved to be good therapy. Moving their limbs freed their tongues as well. Taking turns, Bill and Larry shared their versions of the battle of Green Meadow. Though their stories varied somewhat, Ella was able to picture the event quite well. Secretly she longed to see the place and to know exactly where Bob was buried.
They had passed nearly through Capri before Bill found the courage to ask about Mary. “Ella, have you seen Mary anywhere?” he asked during a lull in the conversation.
Ella stopped short, and her face turned very pale. “Bill, I’m so sorry! I’m afraid I haven’t even thought of her since I returned from Waterfront. I know your cabin was destroyed. I’m so very sorry.”
“Was it burned?” Bill asked.
“Mostly,” Ella responded. “There may be a few things you can salvage.”
“Do you know about Dolly Trumbell’s place?” Bill inquired.
Ella’s face brightened. “I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t been by there.”
“Well, let’s go by there now,” Larry said, growing anxious for his friend.
They turned north and picked their way across the ruined city. Devia’s forces had entered Capri with no intention of leaving. Wood and stone had been torn from buildings to make barricades and shelters. Trees had been felled, and trenches had been dug everywhere. When Devia had finally been driven from Capri, Jabin’s trademark of torch-and-destroy had prevailed.
Bill felt growing despair as they reached Orchard Creek Avenue. The paving stones had been ripped up to make walls and barricades, and the ancient trees had been felled to block roads and streets. It was hard work just to blaze a trail down the street.
Looking up, Bill’s heart leaped for joy. There were buildings on Dolly’s block. The butcher shop was still standing, though its windows were boarded shut. Then Bill stopped. Dolly’s building had taken the abuse for all on that block. The stone front of Tinker Trumbell’s store was all that remained.
Bill forced himself to look through the gaping front door only to see the alley behind the store and the sky above. Nothing remained.