5

Hours later, Mahlah stood on tiptoe and squinted at the mass of people following Moses. Dust shrouded the air, but the cloud of their God whitewashed the sky and led the way toward the plains of Moab. Their clan traveled ahead in the distance. She and her sisters lagged at the rear of the tribe of Manasseh, far behind their clan of Hepher. Somehow, she and her sisters had to march faster and keep their relatives in sight. They did not need an overseer. She could manage her family and their livestock, but the tribe at their heels, the tribe of Asher, threatened to overwhelm her sisters, and drag them farther from their kinsmen.

Milcah pulled the donkeys carrying their tent. Another donkey nudged Hoglah’s shoulder as it carried Tirzah and the household goods. Noah herded the livestock with another clansman and Jeremiah, the shepherd. At least one member of their clan cared about orphans burdened with heavy hearts.

“When is it my turn to ride?” Milcah shuffled her feet and let her donkeys lumber ahead encasing her between their bellies. “Will we camp soon?”

“We have several hours of sunlight left.” Mahlah took the leads from Milcah. “And we need to keep pace with Nemuel’s camels.”

Tirzah swung her well-rested legs. “They should wait for us.”

“We do not need to be watched over like newborns.” Mahlah glanced at the neighboring marchers to see if anyone had overheard their banter. No heads turned toward her sisters.

“I’m not grumbling.” Hoglah patted the neck of her beast. “But we are going farther into the wilderness. Is not Moab north of here?”

Like father, like daughter. Mahlah didn’t need any reports whispered to the leaders about disgruntled women. Especially women without an older brother or a father.

“We are following our God and honoring the refusal of the leaders of Edom to let us travel through their lands.” Mahlah was quick to drown any dissent. “Shall we go to battle with the children of Jacob’s brother and fight people of a common ancestor?” She did not want to think of war. War meant sending sons into battle. What brother or son could she offer?

“Why did God give us land with people living in it?” Milcah slumped against Mahlah’s hip. “Couldn’t He give them another home? Then this walking would be over.”

Mahlah shook her head. “All the land belongs to God. It is His to give and take away. But I’m sure He will honor our choice of peace.”

“He has given us water for our journey.” Tirzah raised her arms toward the sky and pumped her fists. “Spring up, oh well. Spring up, up, up.”

“Make her stop,” Hoglah muttered. “My ears are tired.”

“Who does not like music?” Mahlah held in a rebuke of Hoglah’s nagging. “We are blessed to hear singing and not more wailing.”

She approached Hoglah while dragging the leg Milcah clung to and used as a bed mat.

“Take charge of all the mules. I will check on Noah.” She handed the leads to Hoglah and bent low. “Spring up on my back, Milcah. We will lope around our flocks and help our shepherdess.”

“Sure, carry her while I lead these beasts.” Hoglah snapped the leather. The harsh crack rang out like another rebuke.

Mahlah pressed out an encouraging smile. “I would carry us all if I could, but I don’t wish to sink into the soil.”

Playing the mule to Milcah, Mahlah trotted past several families. As far as eyes could see, the hills, valleys, and flatlands were alive with movement. God’s people blanketed the terrain, marching in order. Four rows, three tribes in each row, with Levites intermingled, caused a mighty display of strength.

Traveling on the outskirts of their tribe, she spied Noah holding two tiny kids in her arms. The newborns’ tongues licked Noah’s sleeves. Sheep huddled close by waiting for Noah to give direction.

Noah standing idle was an uncommon sight. Something must be wrong.

“Hold on.” Mahlah dashed through bleating sheep and obnoxious head-butting goats. The odor of warm, musty animal hair filled her nostrils. She plodded closer. “What’s wrong, sister?”

Noah juggled the babes in her arms. “My mother is gone. I need her to nurse. She has never wandered off.” Her dark lashes fluttered. “I have to find her.”

Milcah’s weight bore down on Mahlah’s shoulders. The herds had to keep moving. Each minute they stood on the outskirts talking, their clan journeyed farther north.

“Where is Jeremiah?” Perhaps he had the mother. He and Noah knew each other’s animals as their own. The young man couldn’t hear or speak, but his herds flourished under his ardent care.

“He has the rest of our sheep. I told him to go on so his father wouldn’t complain.” Noah blew out a long breath. “I’ve never lost a goat. Not a single one.”

“Find Jeremiah. Stay with him near our sisters. Milcah and I will search for the mother.” She jiggled her shoulders. “Right, Milcah?”

“I go where you go.”

Noah hesitated. Hand shading her eyes, she scanned the landscape. “How does a nursing animal go missing?”

“Go on,” Mahlah urged. “I will pray to God, and He will show me where to find our goat.”

Maaaah. The kids in Noah’s arms agreed.

“I am sorry, sister. I was intent on not losing our sheep. I do not know what happened to the mother.” Noah nodded toward the ground. “Take one of the waterskins. I don’t need you in distress.”

“The mother couldn’t have gone far. We will catch her in a blink.” Mahlah bent her knees and dipped to pick up a waterskin.

Noah jostled the baby goats and hurried off, her hips swaying among the swarm of stoic wanderers.

Milcah pointed in the distance. “If I was going to hide, I’d sneak behind those rocks.”

Beyond the numerous mounds of dirt, a plateau rose from the rolling burlap-colored desert.

“That formation is a long way off for a nursing mother to wander. Her teats would drag on the ground halfway there.” Mahlah squinted at the bustle of people intent on spying a spooked animal. Nothing caught her eye.

She grabbed her sister’s arms and released their grip. Milcah slid down to the ground. Leading Milcah from the shuffle of herds and herdsmen, Mahlah knelt to pray.

“God of Abraham, guide me to our lost goat. May we be fleet of foot and reunited with our sisters soon.”

“Soon,” Milcah echoed, with an accompanying sigh.

Mahlah stood and rubbed a hand across her forehead. She stuffed sweat-drenched strands of hair under her head covering. Could the mother have made it to the rocks? She was nowhere in sight.

Securing the waterskin to her hip, she turned to Milcah. “Race you to the plateau.”

“Told you.” Milcah raised her eyebrows and ran like a gazelle.

Mahlah followed her sister. At an all-out sprint, she dodged a few shepherds and headed toward the rocks.

For the briefest of moments, with her feet pounding the gritty ground and her veil fluttering in the breeze, Mahlah let the angst of the day gust away.

Milcah’s spindly legs were no match for Mahlah’s thick thighs, strengthened from assisting their father with the tents and waterskins. Passing her sister, she dashed into the thin slice of shade cast by the plateau. She rounded a corner of jagged rock and halted. Her toes dug into the dirt as she pitched forward. The waterskin slipped to her ankles.

Her goat lay on its side, legs bound. A soft bleat rasped from its mouth.

A stranger, draped in a long, embellished cloak, stood beside the panicked mother.

The man’s eyes widened at Mahlah’s arrival.

Milcah slid a few feet in the loose dirt. She remained still as a carved sculpture while her gaze shifted from Mahlah to the man and then back again. Not a single word escaped from her pressed-thin lips.

Mahlah’s heart beat a rat-a-tat-tat faster than a joyous tambourine. She balled her fists at this affront. To the goat. To her family. To her leadership.

Hands on her hips, she shouted, “Let her go. That’s my mother.”