The deep gray of dawn melted into violet as Deborah crept soundlessly down the rocky hillside. With one hand, she clutched her father’s cloak close to her body, and with the other, she balanced herself so she didn’t send any rocks skidding downward. She didn’t want to attract attention before it was due. Over her shoulder, she’d slung her bow, ready to be used as a signal. It would not serve as a weapon today since she’d be too close to the soldiers to fight.
Without looking behind her or up on the ridge, she knew that five men hid, watching her proceedings. Her father and Abner were on the south end of the ridge. Chaim and Barak were on the north. Lapi was in the center. She’d strategically placed the dead goat near the top of the ridge so she could point it out to the Canaanites. Everything had been planned, and everything was in place. The knowledge that she wasn’t carrying out this bold plan on her own brought her comfort.
Yet, as she descended, she second-guessed her decision, even though she’d been quite certain that the inspiration had come from God. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d been fully convinced she could pull this off. But now, as she drew closer to the sleeping Canaanite camp, she remembered the piercing gazes of those men and the way they’d pursued her.
The soft bleating of a sheep sounded from the camp, and Deborah paused in her step. Somewhere within the camp, the sheep were awake.
And then she saw the guard—just as she suspected there would be. A Canaanite army wouldn’t ever leave their camp unguarded, no matter how small the company.
The guard straightened from his crouch, and he withdrew a dagger from his tunic belt. He held the blade loosely in his hand because he could see she was a lone woman. Not much threat.
Deborah continued to descend, making her movements seem feeble so when he saw that she was diseased, it would be more believable. By the time she reached the base of the hill, three other Canaanites had joined the guard.
Deborah ignored the pounding of her heart and the dryness of her throat as she clutched the cloak and kept her gaze lowered. One step, then another, until the command came.
“Halt!”
Deborah looked up into the eyes of four soldiers. One of them she recognized as the man who’d bathed in the stream.
“It’s the lioness-killer,” he said, his mouth broadening into a smile. He made no secret of scanning her from head to toe.
A shiver ran through Deborah. “Beware,” she rasped in her broken dialect. She lifted her hand that had been stained with the yellow powder. “Disease has come to my village.”
The soldiers all stared at her hand, as if mesmerized. Then three of them took a step back. The guard didn’t move, his expression turning into a frown. “What disease do you speak of, woman?”
Deborah shuffled a step closer. This time, the guard moved back. “It has no name,” she said. “Our skin is rotting, and we cannot eat.” She pointed to the ridge. “Our flocks are dying where they stand.”
The men’s eyes shifted to the form of the dead goat upon the rocks.
Deborah pulled off her hood just as the sun crested the horizon.
All the men gaped, and Deborah knew her yellowed face looked garish in the early light. She pulled at her hair, and a lock came free—a bit of hair she’d already cut, but the soldiers didn’t know that. “Save yourselves.” She dropped the hair on the ground and backed away from it.
“My father sent me to warn you,” she continued. “He is too ill to walk. The illness came upon us suddenly.” Deborah took another step back, wondering if they would detain her. But the men continued to stare at her as if she were part of a strange dream. “Go, or stay,” she rasped. “It is your choice.” Then she acted as if she’d been suddenly overcome with pain, and she gripped her stomach and moaned.
The guard stepped forward, but she held up a hand. “No, don’t touch me. The disease is spreading to everyone.” She pulled the hood over her head. “Save yourselves,” she said in a quieter voice. Then she turned and shuffled toward the hillside.
She could not see them and didn’t know what their reaction was. Perhaps they’d follow and capture her. Perhaps they’d charge her homestead, seeking to gather flocks that were not protected by strong men. Or . . . perhaps they’d leave the valley.
She weaved and stumbled as she walked, reaching for various boulders as if she had to steady herself.
One of the Canaanites said something, but it wasn’t directed at her, and she didn’t dare chance looking back. She made the slow climb up the ridge, knowing that if they were still watching, they’d be suspicious if she appeared too agile.
More conversation echoed against the rocks, and Deborah recognized some of the commands. Her heartrate quickened as she realized they were breaking up camp. Did that mean they believed her? She forced herself to keep climbing, around the boulders, past the dead goat, and not look back.
A form moved above her on the top of the ridge. Deborah knew it was Lapi, and she hoped he wouldn’t reveal himself too early. If the Canaanites saw they were being watched by a healthy man, they might become suspicious. But by the time she reached Lapi’s post, the Canaanites had bundled their bedrolls onto their horses and released the sheep. Deborah would have to call them later, but for now, the creatures would wander aimlessly, prey to wolves, lions, or other predators.
“You did it,” Lapi said in a low voice as she crouched beside him behind the rocky ledge.
She looked over at him, and for a moment, their gazes connected. His deep-brown eyes were lighter in the dawning light, with flecks of gold in them, the color of frankincense. “Let’s hope they don’t return,” she whispered.
Lapi made more room for her, and she settled in beside him, their arms brushing. Deborah was about to inch away when Lapi placed a hand over hers. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
He did not linger in the pose; he lifted his hand from hers almost instantly, and all that was left was the brief warmth his touch had brought. She didn’t know why she was so aware of Lapi every time he was near. She was used to being around men. She had no mother, no sisters, and only her father and brothers for company.
Yet, around Lapi, she felt more . . . womanly. And for some reason, she didn’t want him to view her as a girl but as a woman. He’d been in the discussion with her brothers about her need for a husband, and the thought now made her feel conscious of every action and word from Lapi. He could be married, for all she knew; although she’d never heard his wife mentioned. Barak had a wife and two children.
All Deborah knew was that she shouldn’t be thinking of such things now.
She shifted her gaze to the other end of the ridge, but she couldn’t see her brothers or her father or Barak. She knew they were still there, watching.
Trying not to think about Lapi’s touch or the relief in his eyes when she’d joined his station, she focused on the activity at the base of the hill.
The soldiers had awakened their remaining companions and had packed almost everything they’d brought within moments, and then they started north. Their horses weren’t really galloping, but they were moving quickly. The Canaanite soldiers were truly leaving.
Deborah found she was smiling as she watched their departure.
“Great work,” Lapi said, his voice no longer a whisper.
She looked over at him. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but one side of his mouth was turned up as he watched her.
“I was worried our plan would fail,” she said.
“Your plan,” Lapi corrected. He shifted to a sitting position and crossed his ankles in front of him. “You came up with it, and you executed it.”
Deborah let her eyes stray over the shape of his shoulders, the strength they so obviously exuded, and she had to refocus her thoughts again. She untied the cloak at the base of her neck. The dawn had already given way to the morning heat, making the weight of the heavy cloak stifling. She lifted it and bundled it into a tight ball. “We were blessed. We owe our gratitude to God.”
Lapi nodded. “Yes.”
A triumphant shout went up from Chaim on the other end of the ridge. He stood and raised his hands over his head. “They’re gone!” he called out.
Next to him, Barak laughed in that deep voice of his.
Deborah looked to where she’d last seen the Canaanite soldiers. They were well out of earshot, their forms upon the horses looking like carved toys for children.
Relief cut through Deborah. Success felt sweet, and despite not having slept for many hours, she wanted to prepare a huge meal in celebration. Perhaps the men the village elders had said they’d be sending would join them as well and celebrate the fact that they would not be engaging in battle today.
“Praise the Lord!” her father’s voice echoed along the ridge.
Deborah looked in his direction and saw a rare smile on Abner’s face as father and son embraced. They began to walk toward Deborah.
Lapi stood and held out his hand to help Deborah to her feet.
She hesitated, knowing he was only offering to help her, but she knew that any touch from him would again stir her blood.
Lapi’s gaze remained steady on hers, questioning, and she decided she would stop acting the stubborn woman.
She placed her hand in Lapi’s larger hand. His fingers were calloused, as all desert men’s were. She wasn’t surprised that his grasp was sure. He pulled her to her feet with little effort, and for an instant, his grip tightened over hers.
“You are favored by God, Deborah of Ramah,” he said in a quiet voice.
Then he let go of her hand, and she was still trying to comprehend what he’d meant when her father’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“You wash up, daughter, and we will kill the fatted calf in celebration,” her father said, his tone jovial.
She turned to see her father’s grin. He closed the distance between them in a few more strides and pulled her into an embrace.
His thick beard tickled her face, and his chest rumbled as he chuckled. “You are a wonder. I can’t believe how fast those soldiers broke camp. It was like they were running from God’s fiery wrath.”
Abner grinned, and soon Chaim and Barak joined their group. The men clapped each other on the back, talking about how gullible the soldiers had been.
“You will be a legend, little sister,” Chaim said, turning toward her. “You’ll be known as the girl who can kill a lioness and chase away an army of Canaanites in the same day.”
Deborah laughed then. “Already, your tale has grown large. I can’t wait to hear what you’ll say tomorrow.”
“It will be a lioness and a bear by tomorrow,” Chaim said with a wink.
Barak rested a hand on Chaim’s shoulder. “And the army will have grown to fifty men.”
Chaim shrugged. “Twenty-five or fifty—the number doesn’t matter.”
Lapi hadn’t joined in with the joking; in fact, he seemed to be in deep thought.
Deborah handed the cloak to her father. “I am going to wash off this yellow stain.” She made her way toward the edge of the ridge and climbed down to where the stream pooled before meandering down the hillside. The water would be cold this time of morning, but she wouldn’t mind. She wanted to cool off.
The men’s voices faded as she slipped off her dusty leather sandals at the edge of the small pool and dunked them in the water. They’d still be wet when she walked back, but at least they’d be clean for a few moments, and she could walk mostly on wild grass.
With a glance toward the top of the ridge and the men, she saw that they’d started out for the homestead. She tied the hem of her tunic so that her legs were exposed from the knee down. Then she waded into the pool. The hem would get wet, but it would be less than if she hadn’t tied the ends.
She scrubbed at her hands, then she washed her face. Last, she submerged her head because surely the yellow powder had found its way into her hair. By the time she climbed out of the pool, she’d started to shiver, and goose pimples had covered her body like a rash. But she felt refreshed, and her heart was filled with gratitude. She sat on a nearby boulder and pulled on her leather sandals, then wrapped the straps around her ankles to secure them.
The sun was well on its way to ascending the blue sky, making everything around her green and golden. Early-morning insects inspected the water droplets that had fallen onto the boulder. A sheep’s bleating attracted her attention, and she stood and made the climb to the ridge.
Lapi was coming up the far end of the hillside, leading the sheep abandoned by the Canaanites.
Deborah watched him maneuver among the rocks, his footsteps steady, his form moving with easy confidence. She marveled at how effortlessly he led the sheep, without a word or command. It was like they considered him their new master.
At that moment, he looked up, and her face heated when he caught her watching him.
She couldn’t turn away now and pretend she hadn’t seen him. So she waited for him to crest the ridge.
He stopped at the top, his breathing rapid with the exertion of climbing the hill so quickly. Next came the sheep, and Deborah bent to scratch their heads. “You are very lucky sheep,” she said. “Either that or very, very foolish.”
She felt Lapi’s gaze on her, but she refused to look at him because even though she’d untied her tunic and put on her sandals, her wet hair made her feel somehow uncovered.
“I’ll walk you to the homestead,” Lapi said. “I don’t like the idea of you being out here alone.”
Deborah straightened, glanced at him, then looked toward the valley. “The Canaanites are well and gone.”
“Canaanites soldiers aren’t the only danger to a woman,” Lapi said.
True. She kept her focus on the valley as the wind picked up and threaded through her hair. The warming day would dry the strands in no time, and then she could plait them. “Is that what you told my father and brothers?”
“I told them I’d fetch the sheep,” Lapi said, moving beside her and casting his own gaze over the valley. “I did not want them to know that I thought you should still be watched over. Or think I was showing special interest in you. At least beyond what a brother might show.”
She exhaled. This turn in the conversation made her feel off-balance. “Yet, you are not my brother.”
He gave no response. Deborah could not understand this mysterious man with his observant ways and his tendency to never be far from her sight.
She looked at him then, and he turned his head to look down at her.
“You are not my brother, Lapi,” she said again. “So why are you always . . . watching me?” Deborah hadn’t expected him to smile, but his upturned lips made her feel like her breath had just been stolen. She rested her hands on her hips. “Why are you smiling?”
His brows lifted. “You make me feel like smiling.”
Oh. She exhaled and tried to calm her racing heart. “I don’t understand why you’re so interested in what I do.”
“Do you not understand?”
Apparently, he was a man of riddles. She sighed and looked away again. She should probably start walking back to the homestead. She was a woman now, but interacting with someone like Lapi was beyond the depth of her experience.
“Deborah,” he said, his voice nearly as quiet as the wind. “I came here on a training assignment ordered by the Judge of Israel. I did not expect to find you.”
“You did not expect my brothers to have a sister?” Perhaps she was giving him a hard time, but she also deserved some answers. She didn’t need to look at him to know he had that intense look in his eyes. She smoothed her half-dry hair back from her face and neck and twisted it around her fingers.
“I did not expect you,” Lapi said, his voice remaining soft.
His quietness did strange things to her pulse.
“You are an intriguing woman,” he continued. “And I cannot stop thinking about you.”
She dropped her hands to her side, and she turned to face him then.
He wasn’t smiling anymore. “If you will consent, I would like to ask your father, Tobiah, to give you to me as a wife.”