6

Rolling her shoulders, Mahlah broadened her chest and added height to her stature. Noah hadn’t lost their goat. This stranger had stolen the mother. But how had he done it among all the herdsmen? Had he targeted them because their shepherd was a woman? Did he know of their mourning? A fiery heat surged through Mahlah’s limbs.

An ordinary thief in need of food would be dressed in a threadbare tunic or a tattered cloak, but this foreigner wore garments adorned with crimson and purple thread. Woven in the linen were forms resembling bulls. Oils slicked his hair and bared his gold-banded ears. His fingers and neck glistened with more jewels than she and her sisters owned. Why would a man steal a nursing goat when loosening a ring from his finger would fetch him a feast? Every nerve in her body coiled taut.

“That is my goat.” Mahlah spoke with certainty, foregoing a greeting. This fool had separated her from her family and wasted precious time. Time she did not have to waste. “My newborns are crying to be fed. Release her before my father finds us.”

She flashed Milcah a side-eye command to let the threat of their father stand.

The thief puckered his lips and stared at her as if he knew what she had spoken was a falsehood. She had never seen eyes a mix of mustard and amber hues. Truth be told, she had never seen anything like this man. A gust of wind breezed through her bones and sent a chill along her spine.

God of Abraham, protect us.

“You are daughters of Jacob. I have seen your tents from the rock.” The thief spoke as though he knew their family. “The land can barely hold your people.”

A rhythmic thrumming pulsed in Mahlah’s ears. She did not have all afternoon to converse with this stranger. What if he was waiting for a band of men?

She lowered her stare from his distracting eyes. “I am a daughter of Jacob and my kinsmen are numerous. Untie my goat so its offspring can nurse.”

“From teats round and red?” His cackle made her want to vomit all over his thick leather sandals.

Her knife sat heavy upon her hip. She eased her hand closer to her weapon.

He clasped his bejeweled hands. “You are a lioness. Do you wish to devour me?” He grinned displaying teeth as sharp as her blade.

Mad. This stranger was mad, and she was creeping into madness deciphering his words and watching her goat be tortured by his ropes.

Stepping closer to Milcah and the edge of the jutting rock, she positioned herself to protect her sister, or grab her arm, and run. She took a deep breath. Her mouth tasted of days-old manna.

“Release. My. Goat.”

The thief watched her, grinning with those talon-sharp teeth. Light sparkled from the rubies sewn onto his cloak. The red gemstones resembled blood seeping from the dark embroidery.

Milcah shrieked. The long-winded wail nearly burst Mahlah’s eardrum. But she would endure the torture to get back to her sisters and to the safety of her people, sooner rather than later.

The thief covered his ears and cursed.

Wind gusted around the rock. Milcah stumbled at its force. Mahlah bent her knees and grabbed hold of her head covering lest it fly into the next city. Dirt and dust swirled in the air. The howl of wind joined her sister’s screams. Mahlah’s eyes stung. She blinked, trying to keep the bandit in sight.

His cloak fluttered in the wind. More blackened shapes, animal shapes, became visible on his robe. The adorned cloth enveloped his features.

Then, he vanished.

Her skin tingled as if bits of sand sunk deep into her pores. Where had he gone?

Squinting, she whirled around to face a sneak attack. She unsheathed her blade and held it at the ready.

The thief was nowhere in the stone alcove.

Toda raba, Adonai.

As soon as the prayer left her lips, the wind calmed.

Milcah back-stepped toward the open desert. “Is he gone?”

“Keep watch while I untie our goat.” Mahlah sheathed her weapon and handed Milcah the waterskin.

She ran and knelt beside the mother goat and fumbled with the ropes. She flexed her fingers, willing them to become nimble. The faster they returned to their family and left this rock, the better.

Flinging the rope to the ground, she lifted the mother to her feet.

“Aren’t you going to take the rope for a lead?” Milcah kicked at the loose coils.

“No. I don’t want to remember that man or possess his belongings. I’m ill from the way he looked at me.”

“You? What about the way he looked at me?”

Mahlah shuddered. What was it about that stranger? He made her want to flee this place and never return. Remember that thief, Lord.

She cradled their goat in her arms. Poor animal. Its whole body trembled from being restrained.

“Stay on my heels, sister.”

As Mahlah hurried from the alcove, warm milk seeped from the frightened mother’s teats and soaked her robe. A few drops from the overflowing udders sprayed Milcah’s arm. Her once weary sister matched Mahlah stride for stride.

Milcah tapped Mahlah’s arm. “We need to find Noah, so the babes can nurse.”

“Yes, but we need to hurry.” Mahlah chose an easy gait so she wouldn’t spook the mother and drench herself further. A wide swath of black and speckled livestock trampled the terrain.

“The tribe of Asher is in sight. Our tribe is farther ahead.”

Mahlah’s arms blazed with an internal fire. Basemath’s scratch marks itched from the pressure of the goat’s belly. How she held the mother with muscles she barely controlled was a miracle.

As her people followed God’s lead, children scrambled to catch siblings, livestock lumbered under their loads, and an ever-present dust shrouded distant landmarks. The rhythm of sandals slapping hardened ground rumbled louder than a furious thunderstorm.

“Do you see them?” Milcah’s sandals dragged in the dirt.

God of Abraham, help me find my sisters.

Mahlah propelled herself forward. One step. Then another. Then another.

Sweat pooled upon her upper lip until the crevices in her face became tiny cisterns. Hair clung to her mouth.

“Look for something familiar,” Mahlah mumbled.

Her young sister dashed ahead. “I see Noah.”

A faded scarlet sling hung from their shepherdess. A newborn goat’s head stretched to peer from its side.

When she glimpsed Tirzah holding court atop their donkey, a pressure built behind her eyes. Her sisters had done what she had asked and stayed together. She lifted her eyes to the heavens. “I sing your praise, Adonai.”

The load Mahlah carried for being the firstborn of her father lightened as if she had sprouted wings. A reunion was in sight. She giggled with glee as she staggered nearer her sisters.

Noah corralled a few sheep while her sling cradled a babe. A young man held the other boisterous kid. Mahlah did not recognize the shepherd standing alongside Noah. She also did not recognize the man leading Tirzah’s mount, or the camel carrying their tent. How had these changes come to pass?

Approaching their shepherdess, Mahlah tipped her disheveled head covering toward the unknown shepherd. “Our family has grown since I left.”

“You found my mother.” Noah reached for her exhausted goat and petted her neck. “Bless you, Mahlah. The cries of her young are trying my patience and everyone’s in our midst.” Noah turned toward her companion. His gaze adored Noah uninterrupted. “This is Shuni of Asher. He and his brother have kept us on the move.”

“I see.” Mahlah nodded toward Shuni. “I am grateful.” Was she? Would these brothers expect something for their labors?

The mother goat wiggled with a fierce determination to escape and feed her young.

“We must let the mother nurse, and then we must catch our clan.” Mahlah traipsed to a nearby acacia tree, which made a natural barrier to protect her from the progression of her people. The shade of a thick branch cooled the air heated by the mass of bodies and livestock traveling in the same direction.

Huddled by the trunk, the mother stood and allowed her babies to suck and lap their fill.

Mahlah’s belly spasmed. More than one thing had gone right today. She had rescued a portion of their herd. God had protected her and Milcah, too. Her sisters heaped praise on Milcah’s notice of the rocky plateau. Mahlah shook the image of that odd thief from her mind.

“Daughters of Zelophehad.”

The summons jerked Mahlah into the present and attracted the attention of nearby families.

Elders from her tribe of Manasseh, Nemuel and Abishua, emerged from behind the ware-laden camels and donkeys of the tribe of Asher. Nemuel grabbed hold of the lead to Hoglah’s newly gotten camel.

“Whose camel is this?”

“It belongs to me,” the brother answered, his grip on the rope unyielding.

Abishua came alongside his fellow leader. “We can take care of these women.”

“Apparently not,” Shuni’s brother said. “Were you planning on leaving them among foreigners?”

Mahlah charged forward. She could not let these men believe she was incapable of overseeing her sisters. If only she did not reek of soured milk and her hair did not resemble a bramble bush.

“Our goat was lost, but now she is found.” Mahlah raised her voice and forced a satisfied smile as if she were welcoming the elders to a feast. “We will keep pace with our clan once the mother has nursed.”

She nodded to Shuni. “Now that I have returned, I can see to my sisters. May God bless your kindness two-fold.” She bobbed her head toward Shuni’s brother.

Crossing his arms, Nemuel scowled at her. “Fortunately for you, we are setting up camp.”

Praise be. Tonight, she would sleep for hours. “The cloud of God has settled then?”

“If it were that simple, woman.” Nemuel clicked his tongue and turned his attention to the young men. “Sihon, king of the Amorites, has denied us passage and stands ready for battle. We go to war.”

We? The declaration might as well have been an insult. Zelophehad did not have any sons to send into battle. Daughters could not defend the tribes of Israel.