9

The tribes of Israel felled King Sihon and his army in haste. God had given His people victory over the Amorites, but more importantly, God had given the tribes land and cities to inhabit.

After Sihon was defeated, the soldiers of Israel met Og, King of Bashan, in battle. God bestowed another victory on His people, and He bestowed more land.

Her Reuben had not yet returned.

Mahlah and her sisters settled in Moab. The tribes of Israel staked their tents near Shittim.

She remained true to her vow to Reuben and his son. She cared for Jonah while keeping her own sisters out of trouble.

Their elder, Nemuel, rarely spoke to her about tribal business. Her knowledge of clan matters had died with her father in the desert.

As the sun set, she clapped her hands and urged Jonah to catch quail. The boy ran in a circle charging the docile birds and herding them closer to the tents and away from the outskirts of camp. The waft of roasting meat from her kinsmen’s fires made her jaw pull tight.

“Hoglah only needs one more hen.” She feared Jonah may play this game for hours.

“Come here.” Jonah grasped a small bird. When it stilled, his eyes grew as big as walnuts.

“It’s not going.”

She bent low, took the quail from him, and slipped it carefully into a sack. “They know they are our food.”

He cocked his head. “How they know?”

Had she ever given God’s provision much thought? “Well.” Her mind filled with Moses’ teachings. “God sends us the quail every night. Those we don’t catch, go back to be with Him. He will send them again tomorrow.”

“Same birds?” Jonah jogged toward a feathered straggler.

“Ah, maybe.” Where was an elder to answer such a question?

Jonah stopped pursuing the quail. He craned his neck toward the darkening sky. “Where God live?” He turned and beheld her as if the answer were simple.

The birds in her sack squirmed.

Her face flushed though the evening trade wind lifted her veil. “God is in the cloud over the Tabernacle. He is the pillar of fire that guides us when we travel at night. You have seen Him.”

She had beheld these manifestations for seventeen years, but she had also felt God’s presence. He’d been in the alcove when she faced the thief. He’d comforted her when her mother died. Even when her father would not gaze at Moses and the snake, she had not been alone. How did she explain these feelings to Jonah?

“God is with our men in battle. He is with your father now.” She tousled Jonah’s soft, black curls. “God is with us, too, sending us food.”

Deep in thought, Jonah’s brow furrowed. He touched her bird-filled sack. “Birds go to God.”

She snorted a laugh. “That is a question for Moses.” Dipping into the satchel, she lifted a bird and held it in front of her face. “Where do you go when you are not feeding our bellies?”

The hen cooed a reply.

“It no talk.” Jonah giggled and darted toward the neighboring tents of the tribe of Benjamin.

Putting down the bird, she gave chase and grabbed Jonah’s hand. “Come, it’s getting late, and you have me speaking to quail.” She held the sack in front of him. “We better get these to Hoglah or our stomachs will remain empty.”

A squeal broke the calm of the evening.

Jonah huddled close, grasping her skirt.

Two women emerged from tents to the south. An older man stumbled after them. He held an uncapped wineskin. Fermented grape juice sloshed on his hand.

She tried to cover Jonah’s eyes.

Mahlah recognized the man as an elder from the tribe of Gad. He had been at meetings with her father. She did not recognize the scandalous garments worn by the women. Skin and jewels glistened in the early starlight. Hardly any cloth covered the women’s flesh. A string of gold coins dangled from one woman’s waist while the other adorned her belly with a large ruby. Tirzah would have plucked that gem for fun. Praise be her sister was not here to witness this wanton behavior.

The gold-coin-wrapped woman strutted closer, her gold-banded arms outstretched. She mumbled something in a foreign tongue and bent down to Jonah’s height, displaying most of her breasts.

Mahlah tugged Jonah farther from the woman, putting distance between them and the woman’s wine-tainted breath.

The harlot repeated her gibberish.

“You need a man, not a boy,” the elder said. He stumbled toward the talkative woman and kissed her cheek. He glanced at Mahlah. “Isn’t my Midianite fawn a beauty? She wants to know if the boy is yours.”

“He is not my son.” A harshness edged Mahlah’s voice. “This is the son of Reuben, Nemuel’s heir.”

The man gawked as if she was the foreigner speaking gibberish. He snapped his fingers summoning the other girl.

“I will tell her.” Wrapping an arm around each woman, he swaggered in the direction of the wilderness, his wineskin beating a rhythm against his back.

Why would an elder of Gad keep company with such women? And to where was the elder escorting those pagans? No leader in camp would accept the display of bared breasts and braided hair worn as a crown. Wasn’t the elder worried about offending God?

She shivered. Her father had insulted God, and she had seen the devastating consequences. Every day she and her sisters lived with the hardship from that decision.

“I hungry.” Jonah tugged on her robe.

“Yes, we should return home.” She peeked at her quail huddled in the sack. They acted asleep, but not Jonah. He watched her, eyes round and awake.

“That woman thought you handsome. You remind me of your father when he played among the tents.”

“Yes.” Jonah smiled and then darted ahead.

Mahlah quickened her pace. She did not want to think about those half-naked women. The Promised Land from God could not be conquered too soon.

She trudged past the tents of Gad and Benjamin toward the tents of Manasseh. Smoke hung in the air as her clansmen huddled around fires either eating or preparing their roasted quail.

As she approached her tent, only Tirzah and Milcah sat in the cooking courtyard. A small fire blazed between them. Milcah formed patties of ground manna and oil. Jonah discovered the mortar and pestle and pounded air.

“Where’s Hoglah?” Mahlah’s stomach gurgled after breathing in the aroma of charred meat.

Tirzah placed a stone slab over the fire. She shrugged. “I don’t know where she went.”

How had her mother and father overseen five children? Mahlah rubbed her pulsing temples.

“Who wants to prepare the quail?”

Tirzah and Milcah exchanged glances, but neither moved to retrieve the sack of birds.

Milcah placed a manna cake on the stone.

“Shall we eat bread then?” Mahlah said. “It’s almost ready for our mouths.”

Opening the sack, Mahlah let the quail go free. The hens waddled away from the fire.

Jonah jumped around the small clearing, flapping his arms as if he were a bird.

“They go to God.” Jonah darted after the quail.

She lunged and grabbed his hand.

“We need to find Hoglah.”

He wrinkled his nose and pouted.

Why did she sense that somewhere Hoglah was making a similar face?