The snake was nearly as long as Deborah was tall. Its black scales gleamed gold as it reflected the orange of the setting sun. She’d been waiting in the same spot for almost two hours for the thing to appear. And now she’d been rewarded at last.
Yesterday, one of her sheep had been bitten. She’d been swift to tie off the sheep’s leg and drain the venom, followed by a pleading prayer for the sheep’s healing. The sheep was walking around this morning, acting as if it was completely recovered, but Deborah knew she couldn’t be so fortunate twice. She feared the snake would attack again, and the outcome wouldn’t be so favorable.
She determined not to let something as preventable as a snakebite kill her sheep. Canaanite soldiers were a little more difficult to get rid of, but these snakes were predictable. They hid in their holes or rocky crevices in the heat of the day but came out as soon as the air cooled when the sun sank behind the western hills.
Deborah shifted her position atop the large boulder and adjusted her cramped legs. She moved very slowly so as to not startle the snake, though she knew the creature could smell her. It slithered slowly around the rock, and Deborah watched as it made its way to the edge of the stream. It wasn’t a water snake, but it needed water all the same.
And then it would spend the better part of the evening heading to the area where the sheep grazed. But Deborah didn’t plan on letting it get that far. She licked her dry lips and wished she could scratch the itch on her nose. As if sensing her distress, a fly buzzed around Deborah’s head. She clenched her jaw to stop herself from reaching for it.
The snake had started its forward trek, and Deborah waited another couple of moments before she withdrew the arrow and nocked it against her bow. It would be a challenge to hit a creature so long and narrow, and Deborah knew if she didn’t hit close to its head, it might continue to live. Snakes were durable like that.
She exhaled, licked her lips again, then took aim. She held steady, watching the snake’s ambling movements through her half-slit eyes. Then she released the arrow. It whooshed through the air and struck . . . right in the dirt next to the snake’s head.
She blew out a breath of frustration, then withdrew a second arrow. The snake had started to move again, faster this time, and soon it would be out of target range. Deborah stood, took aim, then let the arrow fly.
She missed again.
And now the snake had gained too much ground for Deborah to hit it with an arrow. All she could do was meet up with the sheep and usher them to the other side of the stream. Before nightfall, she’d have to bring the sheep to the homestead for the added protection.
She hopped down from the boulder, feeling that she’d just wasted hours for nothing, and fetched her two arrows. But before she could pick up the first one, a hissing sound made her stop cold. She looked at the ground. It was a different snake, and she’d apparently stepped on its tail.
Before it could retaliate, Deborah turned and ran for the boulder, not daring to look behind her.
She scrambled onto the rock, scraping her knees and hands in the process. She hoped she hadn’t drawn blood since it would only make her more of a target. When she turned to survey the position of the snake, her skin went cold.
A third snake had been aroused from its nap, and it slithered into the evening light. The boulder must be the entrance to a snake nest.
How many more snakes were there, and how long would it take for them to leave their nest? Deborah reached for the knife she kept strapped to her calf. She gripped the handle and held the blade in front of her as she moved to the far edge of the boulder, away from the third snake.
Its head turned toward her, eyes like dead, black holes on each side of its head.
With her other hand, Deborah scraped up some dirt and bits of rock from atop the boulder. If the snake moved, she’d toss the dirt and try to stall its advance.
But the creature seemed perfectly content just watching her.
She took a step back and another step until she reached the edge of the boulder. Then she leapt backward, hoping she didn’t land in an awkward position and hurt her ankles.
Her feet made contact with the hard ground, and she was able to keep her balance. She scrambled onto the next boulder. This one was higher, and hopefully, this one didn’t house a snake nest. She stood and surveyed the ground beneath her on all sides.
Then she looked toward where the sheep grazed. If the first snake didn’t slow, it could reach the sheep in a few minutes. Deborah’s heart was thumping so hard she decided to herd the sheep home early tonight, and maybe she could come up with some traps by tomorrow morning.
She was about to climb off the boulder and take a new route to her flock so she could avoid the snake nest when she saw someone riding a horse toward the homestead. The evening light made it hard to tell which of her brothers it was—Abner or Chaim. But why would they be coming from the direction of the village? They’d both been working on the homestead when she’d left with the sheep that morning.
But as Deborah watched, she realized the rider wasn’t one of her brothers. The figure seemed familiar somehow, but it wasn’t one of the village elders either.
She stared at the man’s form and how easily he rode the horse, as if he rode every day. He was also riding rather fast—urging the horse to maintain a steady gallop. A bundle was tied to the back of the horse. Was the man a traveler? A nomad? A friend of her father?
The rider neared the homestead and reined the horse to a stop. She watched him dismount, and then she knew . . . Lapi.
What was he doing here? She hadn’t allowed herself to entertain thoughts about him since his and Barak’s abrupt departure. She hadn’t told her father or brothers of Lapi’s marriage proposal. In fact, the longer he’d been gone, the more Deborah had talked herself into believing that the conversation had never taken place.
Surely a man like him couldn’t have true feelings for a woman like her. She was young and had never traveled beyond her village. Lapi had traveled the entire countryside and knew many people. He was a respected military trainer, like his cousin Barak.
Her thoughts turned from her inner turmoil to curiosity about why Lapi was here, back at her homestead. Then the fear struck. What if something had happened to Barak? Or perhaps her father or brothers? Was there another band of Canaanite soldiers roaming the valley?
She leapt off the rock and hurried toward her sheep, making a wide berth around the snake nest, then she started toward the homestead while she kept an eye on what Lapi was doing. Fortunately, her father appeared, and then her brothers too. They seemed to be in a deep discussion, and Deborah urged the sheep faster. They bleated their displeasure, but Deborah didn’t relent.
When she had the sheep close enough to the pomegranate grove, she set them loose and made her way to the men. Lapi turned to see her first, and she was sure she looked a sight. Her hair had come out of its plait, and she was breathing hard. Her hands and arms were scraped from the rocks.
Lapi’s dark eyes were unreadable. She’d forgotten how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, and how intense his gaze was. Her father and brothers were still speaking among themselves when her father noticed her.
“Where are your arrows?” he asked. “And why are you carrying your knife?”
Deborah slowed her step. She looked down at her hand and the knife she still gripped. She looked past Lapi to her father and her brothers, who were both staring at her. “I was . . . hunting down the snake that injured the sheep yesterday. I, uh, tried to shoot the snake with my arrows, but then I disturbed a snake nest.”
She felt Lapi watching her, and she hoped her cheeks wouldn’t redden.
“Looks like the snakes won this round,” Chaim said, amusement in his voice.
Deborah shrugged, pretending she hadn’t been scared witless a short time ago. She slipped the knife into the strap about her calf, then realized Lapi probably wasn’t used to seeing a woman strap a knife to her leg. When she looked up, he glanced away. Heat stole through her.
“What . . . are you doing here?” she said to Lapi, walking closer to the group of men. Perhaps she was being blunt, but if they considered her a young woman, then she had the right to know.
“He’s looking for Barak,” her father said. “Have you seen any sign of approaching travelers?”
“No,” Deborah said. “Is Barak in danger?”
None of the men answered.
“Well?” Deborah cut her gaze to Lapi. “What’s happened?”
Lapi rubbed the back of his neck, and Deborah tried not to notice how the action made the muscled lines of his arm more defined. She shouldn’t be thinking of Lapi in any other way than as a friend of their family.
“We had some trouble in our village with a Canaanite captain,” Lapi said at last. “Barak uprooted his family and was heading this direction last I knew.” Lapi shifted his gaze to her father. “Barak was hoping to work the land nearby and, with your hospitality, begin anew. Or at least until he felt it was safe to return home.”
Her father nodded. “Barak and his family are welcome to stay as long as necessary.”
Deborah couldn’t have been more surprised at this turn of events. She’d told herself she’d never see Lapi again, so she was pleased to see him now. She could apologize to him properly, although not in the presence of her brothers and father. But first, she wanted to know what had happened with Barak.
“Let us go inside, and Lapi can give us more information over supper,” her father said. “It will soon be too dark to keep watch, but we can keep a fire burning in the courtyard in case they are traveling at night.”
Deborah led the way into the interior of the tent. She’d kept barley soaking all day, and she added vegetables before heating it over a small cooking fire. Then she cut up dates and made a date cake that she formed and set above the fire to bake.
She served the soup, then brought out the date cake, along with some date-palm wine. Her brothers had lit several oil lamps, and the light chased back the darkening shadows. Once everyone was served, she sat next to her father on a cushion. From this position, she was across from Lapi and could see that his shoulders had slumped, and he looked tireder than she’d ever seen him.
Lapi told the story of Sisera, the Canaanite captain, and how he’d confronted Barak over his sister.
Deborah found herself gripping her hands together as she listened to the story and to how Barak had fled the village, Lapi taking Kiva one way and Barak coming toward Ramah. Yet . . . they had not arrived.
“Do you think they stopped over somewhere?” Abner asked. “Perhaps camped?”
“I don’t think so.” Lapi blew out a breath. “Barak is injured. His wife has a baby. His father has a bad foot. I think they’d travel as quickly as possible to reach the valley.” He stared down at his hands. “I shouldn’t have left them.”
“But you had to take Kiva to safety,” Deborah said, not sure if it was too presumptuous of her to contradict Lapi.
He didn’t answer.
Abner took another swallow of wine, then said, “We’ll begin a search at dawn if they’ve not arrived. We can split up and inquire along the various roads. There are only so many roads they could have taken. If they’ve camped, perhaps someone has spotted them.”
“Or . . .” Chaim looked at Lapi. “We can also find out if Sisera has been traveling again. Do you know when the king’s wedding is?”
Chaim had a good point, Deborah thought. If they could count on Sisera to stay at the king’s wedding for all the celebrations, he’d be off the roads.
“I had the impression it was within a few days from Sisera’s visit to our village,” Lapi said, his tone sounding dejected. “So that might mean the wedding is any day now.”
“That’s good news for Barak,” Deborah said, and again Lapi’s gaze fell on her. Her face warmed for a second time. The intensity of his eyes that used to be a mystery to her had now taken on a new meaning after he’d proposed marriage. She couldn’t let it affect her now, not after she’d already told him her father would never approve and not when he was so worried about his cousin.
“I hope it’s good news,” Lapi said in a quiet voice.
Deborah couldn’t stand this melancholy from Lapi. She wanted to somehow comfort him, to dispel the heaviness in his countenance. But she was only the daughter of Tobiah to him now; she could never be anything more.
“I will prepare the fire in the courtyard,” Deborah said. “It’s nearly dark.”
Her father nodded, and Deborah rose to her feet. She collected the empty bowls of soup and returned them to the cooking room, then headed outside. When they had overnight visitors at the homestead, her father would frequently talk late into the night, and they’d gather around an outside fire, reveling in both the warmth of the flames and the coolness of the weather.
But tonight’s fire would also be a beacon to any lost traveler. She gathered kindling and set the sticks and dried grass inside the ring of river stones. Then she fetched a few larger pieces of wood they kept in the stable. Once she had those arranged, she balled up a bit of dry grass and set it in the middle of the fire ring. She struck a piece of chert against a flat stone multiple times until the grass started to smoke. She picked up the ball of grass and waved it in the air to fan the smoke into flame.
Orange flames burst out of the grass, and she dropped it onto the kindling. Then she bent forward and blew on the small flames until the kindling caught fire. Satisfied, she straightened and gingerly arranged the other kindling, making sure she didn’t burn her fingers.
“Thank you,” a deep voice said behind her.
Deborah didn’t need to turn to know that Lapi had come into the courtyard. She heard his footsteps as he approached. He crossed to the other side of the fire ring and crouched before the young flames.
The yellow glow lit his square jaw, but his eyes remained shadowed. He wasn’t looking at her but focused his concentration on the fire.
Deborah wondered what her brothers and father were doing and why they hadn’t come outside as well. It made her nervous to be alone with Lapi. Not that she feared him. But the last time they’d been alone, their conversation had been deeply private, and she knew she’d disappointed him by telling him her loyalty was to her family. Surely no man liked to be rejected.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to redirect her thoughts. Lapi’s concerns were about Barak right now, not some foolish woman’s thoughts about marriage. She wished she could drum up some words of comfort, but she’d said all she could think of inside the tent. She was curious, of course, to hear more about Barak’s family, especially Kiva—who was only a couple of years younger than Deborah. She tried to imagine what Kiva must have thought and felt being at that market square and capturing the interest of the Canaanite captain.
Deborah remembered how it had felt when she’d been alone with the two dozen Canaanite soldiers. Only by God’s grace had her brothers, Barak, and Lapi arrived in time to dissuade them from mischief.
Feeling Lapi was watching her, Deborah opened her eyes. He was still the only one on the other side of the fire ring. He didn’t look away when their gazes connected, and Deborah felt compelled to say something.
“I hope they arrive soon,” Deborah said, knowing her words were inadequate, but she pressed on. “I can join in the search. I don’t have my own horse, but I’ll walk the ridge and keep a lookout.”
Lapi didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her, which only made Deborah’s pulse speed up for some reason. “Thank you,” he finally said. Then he fell silent and went back to staring at the flames.