21

Back and forth inside their tent, Mahlah paced. “God of Jacob, give me wisdom. Is this what You would have Your servant do? I see no other way to save my sisters and carry my family name into Canaan, Your Promised Land.” Sweat pooled above her lip. “Cast out the tremble from my limbs, for my legs do not want to march me into a meeting of men.”

Milcah flung open the tent flap. “Nemuel and Reuben are leaving for the assembly. It won’t be long now.”

“Come.” Mahlah unfolded an alabaster-colored veil. “We need to change your head covering. We must all be a sight to behold.”

“That is the same color as mine.” Tirzah shifted her covering as if it was somehow tainted because of the similarity to her sister’s veil. Her bottom lip plumped.

“You can wear mine.” Noah removed her veil. “The scarlet edging will match your cheeks.”

“You don’t mind changing?” Tirzah asked.

“Not at all.” Noah secured the ruby fringed covering on her young sister.

Hoglah shook out her robe. “Noah could wear a rag on her head, and still all the men’s eyes would turn toward her.”

“Says the girl in the indigo weave who is as eye-catching as any woman in camp.”

Hoglah blushed at Noah’s compliment.

“No more fussing.” Mahlah wished her words did not sound so weary, but if she did not force herself to leave their tent in the next breath, she might be tempted to squabble all night. “We need to pray and ask God to open Moses’ heart to our plight.”

“Shouldn’t we pray for all the leaders’ hearts to be open?” Milcah cast a glance at her sisters.

Milcah was correct once again.

“We shall.” Mahlah grasped Milcah’s hand. “Nothing is too hard for our God. He has felled kingdoms and given us walled cities to live in. He can change a man’s beliefs.”

Noah sighed. “Pray, Mahlah, before our knees buckle from all our woes.”

“God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; You are the father to the fatherless. Soften the hearts of the elders to our plea. May we inherit land in our father’s name, so we can stay together as a family.”

“God of Jacob, hear our prayer.” Noah cast a glance in Mahlah’s direction and nodded.

Noah’s support was a fresh dip of water.

“May it be so.” Mahlah finished the prayer with a mouth as dry as withered reeds.

“Can I close my eyes in the assembly?” Tirzah winked one eye then the other.

“Only when we are standing still.” Noah scrubbed a hand over Tirzah’s head covering.

“Stop.” Tirzah ducked and ran into Mahlah.

“Shhh.” Her sister’s playful banter echoed in Mahlah’s head. Didn’t they realize the seriousness of this night? After her request for land, the men may shout their contempt or hurl insults. Worse still would be if they hurled rocks. Protect us, God.

Before Mahlah left their tent, she untied her belt and left her knife wrapped in her sleeping mat. God would be her defender tonight, not the blade bestowed upon her by her father.

Mahlah ushered her sisters out of their home and led them away from Nemuel’s tent and through alleys toward the Tabernacle. As they neared the center of camp, Jonah came bounding around a corner followed by Basemath. Why were they near the tents of the Levites?

“Mah-lah.” Jonah tugged on her robe wanting to be held.

If only she could resist those big eyes and chubby cheeks. She bent and lifted Jonah, settling him on her hip.

“Pretty.” He fingered her mustard-hued veil.

“You look like a bride.” Basemath sauntered closer, her gaze scanning the line of girls.

“And we are in a hurry like one.” Mahlah’s answer held a not-so-subtle warning that she would not explain about their appearance.

A few men hastened by on their way toward the Tabernacle.

Basemath’s brow furrowed. “My father is attending a gathering before the Tent of Meeting. Moses is going to bless the lots.”

“Yes, he is.” Noah wrapped her arms around Jonah and removed him from Mahlah’s grasp. “We must borrow Mahlah for this eve. She will visit your tent soon.”

“Soon,” Jonah repeated.

“Come now.” Basemath clasped the boy’s hand. “We must sup.”

Food was the farthest thing from Mahlah’s thoughts. Her stomach pained as if it were full of jagged rocks. She waved to Jonah. The boy’s joyous, energetic smile bore into her burdened heart.

When Basemath glanced over her shoulder, Mahlah glimpsed a wetness in her eyes. That would be a first. Her neighbor usually rejoiced when others cried, except after the plague. Now, she rarely spoke and remained close to home.

“Mahlah,” Basemath began. “I wish my father would value me like a son.”

“I wish that for all of us.” Mahlah rolled her shoulders, trying to release a pinch in her neck.

“Then go.” Basemath sniffled. “Why do you tarry?”

Pressure to the small of Mahlah’s back urged her along.

“Do not mention you saw us.” Noah wrapped an arm around Mahlah’s shoulders. “We don’t need an overseer tonight.”

Basemath nodded. “I won’t.”

Mahlah needed her headstrong sister more than ever. Marching toward the Tabernacle, she didn’t know how one sandal passed in front of the other. This camp she had grown up in, with its rows of tents and cooking fires, seemed foreign. Her parents no longer roamed these paths, neither her grandparents. Why did her sisters’ well-being have to be championed by an unmarried orphan?

Nearing the entrance to the Tabernacle, she slowed her steps. Through the opening in the colorful curtain, she could see Moses standing before the tent where the Ark of the Covenant rested. Thick and white, the cloud of God hung above the holy place. She swallowed, but no saliva moistened her throat.

Elders and leaders, man after man, faced Moses; his fellow leader, Joshua; and Eleazar, God’s favored priest. The scarlet, purple, and blue threads of the tapestry walls could not compete with the stones and jewels sewn into the priest’s ephod. Eleazar was a tower of blue, gold, and gems. Mahlah’s mustard veil, worn by her mother on her wedding day, was but a scrap of cloth compared to the magnificence of Eleazar’s robe.

As she shuffled closer to the leaders of Israel, men turned to see who dared stroll to the front of the gathering. The growl of male voices hushed. A low rumble of mutterings began. Mumblings about her and mumblings about her father.

Her toe struck stone. A throb of pain filled her foot.

Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. Not her eye, too?

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Yes, you can, Daughter of Zelophehad,” Noah whispered. “You are the strongest woman I know, and we are all here behind you.”

Her sisters echoed Noah’s belief.

Mahlah rallied her spirit and strode boldly toward the leader of Israel even though her mouth tasted of salt and blood.

God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob give me Your strength.