30

Mahlah wiped her brow as she bent to pick up a water jar. The sun beat upon her head covering, one with a plain brown weave unlike her mother’s embroidered veil that she had worn to the assembly. Few women ventured to the well in the heat of the day. All the better for her. She did not wish to hear their remarks about her age, her boldness, and her lack of a betrothal. No man of Manasseh had rushed to her tent with an offer of marriage.

With her sisters in the outlying terrain assisting Noah, her bustling home stood oddly silent. Balancing a jug on her shoulder, she hurried toward the well, making haste past Nemuel’s tent.

Wild giggles screeched from the next path over. Those were Jonah’s heart-tugging giggles. A woman’s voice pleaded with the boy to stop dodging her grasp. Susanna would never catch her grandson. Not after the plague had weakened her body and slowed her gait.

Peeking around the tent lead, Mahlah glimpsed Susanna’s stumble-footed pursuit of her grandson.

“What if two women chase you?” Mahlah placed her jar by the side of the tent.

She lunged, arms extended, and nearly caged Jonah.

The boy squealed with delight.

Back and forth, Mahlah leapt until she blocked Jonah’s escape toward the wide path.

Short, winded breaths interrupted his laughter.

With one grand maneuver, Mahlah wrapped her arms around Jonah.

“If you have so much vigor, why don’t you accompany me to the well?”

“Yes,” he giggled.

“Toda raba, Mahlah. I would still be making a fool of myself if you hadn’t come along.”

Mahlah held onto Jonah until his wiggles ceased. “Go get a cup to bring. You can taste the water before it heats.”

Jonah raced toward the tent flap. “Big one.”

“A small one,” she called out. “You have to carry it.”

Susanna drew close, her hand pressed against her chest. “I hear all is as it should be with your inheritance. I am happy God has provided land for your family.” She blinked. “I am here for you, for all of you. I cannot say much when my husband is about.”

“No one can say much when he is around.” Mahlah smiled and clasped Susanna’s hand. The scent of hyssop wafting from the woman’s skin reminded Mahlah of her mother. Her heart grew heavy like a filled vessel. “You have always been kind to my family.”

“Thank you.” Susanna squeezed Mahlah’s hand. “But I believe it is the other way around. What would we have done without you?”

Jonah jumped from the tent flap, a cup held high over his head. “Rea-dy.”

“Have you heard from Reuben?” Mahlah said to Susanna. “Is he outside the camp?” Her belly hollowed at the thought he might not return.

Susanna shook her head. “Some men traveled deeper into Moab to the farthest Midianite cities. Let us hope my son is one of them.” Susanna’s eyes glistened with tears. “I must hope.”

“We all hope and pray for Reuben’s return.” Mahlah kissed Susanna’s tear-streaked cheek. “God will watch over him.” As upset as she was with Reuben’s betrayal in the first assembly, he had been kind to her in front of Helek and the other warriors. And try as she may not to truly love Reuben, a part of her always would.

Turning from Susanna, Mahlah chuckled at Reuben’s son, raising and lowering a clay cup as if it were a jeweled scepter. Her throat grew thick.

“Hurry, Jonah. Before Hoglah returns and finds she has little water.”

“You are welcome to take a winding path,” Susanna whispered. She plopped on a stool and wiped her brow.

“I will slow my steps.” Mahlah winked at her relative.

After settling her water jar on her shoulder, Mahlah ushered Jonah past the tents of the tribe of Benjamin toward the outskirts of camp. The boy sprinted ahead, stopping to urge her onward when he needed a rest.

By the time they reached the well, no one was by the circular wall. Mahlah grabbed the crank to raise the bucket. Jonah slumped against the linen-colored stone and licked his lips.

Mahlah laughed. “You can take the first sip.”

She poured water from the bucket into her jar and dipped Jonah’s cup.

Puffs of air whooshed from Jonah’s nostrils as he gulped the water. His mouth never left the baked clay.

In the distance, someone approached. The form appeared the size of a calf against the mounds of crag-filled hills not far from the Jordan River.

Mahlah squinted. Her heart sped. Could it be Reuben?

As the figure grew closer, she noticed a staff. She recognized the gait and the ornate walking stick. If it couldn’t be Reuben, this man was as much a gift.

“Our leader is coming.” She tapped Jonah’s shoulder. “Let us bring him a drink from your cup.”

Leaving her jar by the well, she led Jonah into the shade of a nearby tree. A tree barely surviving, split from a fiery strike of lightning.

Moses met her under the drooping foliage. He leaned against the divided trunk, on the side that lived, where limbs bent away from the charred, decaying branches of death.

“Leader.” She bobbed her head. “We brought you a drink.”

“Bless you, Daughter.” Moses rested his staff on a nub in the bark. “I did not expect to walk so far, but I had to gaze upon her one last time.”

Her? Moses’ sister had died years ago. What woman would be living in the mountains?

Jonah eyed the height of Moses’ staff. He bent and chose a long stick laying in the dirt and then hobbled around the tree.

Mahlah waited for Moses to take a few sips of water. “Did you visit someone in the outskirts?”

Moses’ gaze breezed right through her body. She could see her reflection in his eyes, but his mind seemed to be beholding something, or someone, in a vision.

“The land, Mahlah. I surveyed the land.” His commanding voice barely uttered its words.

“The land across the river?” She leaned to hear his answer.

“The walls of Jericho are a freshly oiled lamp. You should see the fields and vineyards.” Moses’ lips curved into a smile. He grinned like a skilled barterer. “The land is ripe for the harvest. Large cities wait to welcome our people. God has blessed us abundantly.”

“Praise be to our God. When will you lead us across the Jordan?” Would Reuben return before the journey? She glanced at Jonah who was already digging a new well in the soil.

Moses sipped his water. He stared at the cup. If she did not know him, she would have thought he was ignoring her presence.

“I won’t be crossing the river. Joshua, son of Nun, will lead our people into the Promised Land. My body is tired. My brother and sister are gone. I have traveled as far as God has deemed.”

Mahlah’s mouth gaped. “You are our leader.” Her eyes burned. Not from warm gusts of air, or the grit of dirt, but from grief. The grief of losing the only leader she had ever known. A compassionate leader who welcomed her into his assembly with a reserved dignity and bestowed an inheritance upon her family without doubting God’s provision.

A prickling heat rushed from her cheeks to her forehead. She blinked back the sting of tears. “I have known none other who talks boldly with our God. How can this be?”

“Do not fret. My heart is at peace with God’s decision. Joshua has been at my side for many years. He is younger and capable of leading our people into battle.” Moses reached for his staff. “I know who waits for me. Perhaps I am more ready to leave this land than I let myself believe.”

Tears dripped down Mahlah’s cheeks. “I will never be ready to see you go.”

“No cry, Mah-lah.” Jonah embraced her leg, one-armed. He held fast to his stick with his free hand.

“Daughter of Zelophehad, are you not the granddaughter of Hepher, son of Gilead, son of Makir, son of Manasseh?”

Mahlah wiped her cheek and nodded. “Yes.” She pressed the affirmation through her thickening throat. How did Moses remember her lineage? Why should her descendants matter to him? “I am from the line of Hepher, a descendant of Manasseh.”

Jonah wrinkled his nose at her as if she and Moses had spoken in a foreign tongue. She smoothed the boy’s soft curls. His hold on her leg loosened.

Moses cocked his head and lifted his cup in a celebratory manner. “When I speak to God about a woman, I know her name. When I speak to God about a woman and her family, twice, I remember her lineage. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob knows your name and your lineage. So do I.” He drained his cup. “You, my daughter, are destined to venture west, across the Jordan, into a land flowing with milk and honey. But,”—he beheld the sag of the branches above his head—“some of the clans of Makir, son of Manasseh, will stay on the east side of the Jordan.”

“I don’t understand.” She wiped wetness from her right eye. With her touch gone, Jonah continued his prodding of the ground with his branch. “Our whole tribe has been waiting to cross the river. To take the land promised by God.”

“God has given us victory against the Amorites. Their fertile fields are in our possession. Lands in the east are as blessed as lands in the west.” Moses stroked his beard. “Some of your people wish to settle here and raise their flocks. We discussed this at the last assembly. Didn’t your elders inform you of their petition?”

Mahlah pondered Moses’ words before she spat an unkind remark. She crossed her arms and held them against her stomach. The pressure on her belly reminded her to take small breaths and uphold her position as the firstborn of her family. “I did not hear any new revelations except for who my sisters and I are to marry.”

“Of course.” Moses laughed with delight like they engaged in lighthearted banter. “How could I forget? The minds of men do not change easily.”

Did he think her situation a cause for revelry? Perhaps the heat of the sun had made him giddy? Her hands flexed, but her arm muscles grew taut.

“Oh, Daughter, if your elders only knew how to deal with strong women. I welcomed my sister’s challenges. And my wife, she could yell louder at me than at a charging ram.”

Moses handed her the cup, but his gaze bestowed upon her an understanding she had not seen in many men. Save Reuben.

“Prepare to cross the Jordan. The elders of the tribes of Gad and Jacob’s oldest son, along with the descendants of Makir, have asked to stay on this side of the river. If the men of these tribes cross over and fight for the inheritance of the other tribes, this land will be their home. Look around, Mahlah.” Moses opened his arms as if to embrace her. “Soon, you will see these hills no more. You will follow the Ark of our God into the land of Canaan. Your offspring will fill a blessed land.”

Tears threatened to spill again but not happy tears. She should feel blessed. At least honored. But the belly beneath her arms held no babe. She had no husband, and her reputation certainly scared away suitors. Even if she crossed into Canaan, she would not fill it with children, not in the near future. Moses spoke as if all the battles on this side of the Jordan had been won and all the fighting men had returned to camp. She waited and prayed for one fighting man to return. And return soon.

“Mah-lah. Look me.” Jonah raced around his stick. He had worked the wood deep enough into the ground to make it stand on its own.

A single stick. Standing on its own. Was that to be her future? If that was the life God had prepared her for, then she would see that it was good.

She set the cup on the ground and clapped. “Your father will be happy to see how strong you are getting.”

A bitter taste seeped into her mouth. Reuben? Had all the cities of the Amorites been conquered? Had justice been handed out against all the Midianites?

She turned toward Moses. He stood before her as their leader—still. “Have all our men returned from battle. Is this land free from enemies?”

“Our land will never be free from enemies.” Moses trudged toward Jonah. “You saw the pit of Peor. Our hearts can be deceived. But not if we hold onto God’s Law.” He plucked Jonah’s stick from the dirt and pointed it at her. “Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul—”

“And with all my strength.” She rested a fist on her chest and felt the pound of her heart.

Moses bowed his head and uttered wisps of words. A prayer. He rubbed the dead branch in his hands. Back and forth the wood rolled until it turned the color of toasted almonds. The tip widened, blooming as if alive. An ornate, beautiful bulb graced the end of the renewed wood.

Jonah giggled and reached for the rejuvenated stick.

“Now you have something to hold onto,” Moses said with a wink.

“To-da ra-ba.” Jonah jumped in the air, again and again.

Falling face first into the dirt crossed Mahlah’s mind, but she stood with a hand to her mouth, soaking in this moment. This very precious moment.

“Crossing the Jordan is not the delight it should be for me.” Her lips trembled. “My kinsman has not been heard from since he went into battle, and my heart aches for his son.”

Moses retrieved his staff from the tree trunk.

“Remember, Daughter of Zelophehad. The Lord watches over the orphan and the weak. You should not fill yourself with concern.” He scanned the distant crags from where he had ventured. “A righteous woman armed with the truth is a frightful opponent. Fear not as you go forth with God.” He turned and held her gaze. “Remember, there are always faithful men and women fighting the Lord’s battles.”

Tears welled in her eyes as a weight lifted from her heart. She nodded with a slight tilt of her head. “Will I see you again?”

“What do you believe?”

“I will, when my days are through.” Her affirmation was but a wisp.

Stamping his staff, Moses said, “Some men still fight north, near Havoth. Take heart, Mahlah. I trust God will give them victory.”

Lord, please let Reuben be one of the men fighting in the north.

“Stay strong, Daughter of Zelophehad.” Moses bobbed his head. The corners of his eyes glistened in the shadows of the split-bark tree. “Joshua will need brave leaders.”

“You will always be my leader,” Mahlah said, her confession barely audible.

A brief smile flashed across Moses’ face. He turned and trudged toward the mountains.

When he strode into the sun, his gray hair sparkled a pure, eye-scorching white.

Mahlah dropped to her knees. “I will go forth with God. Wherever He leads me and my sisters.”

Pain swept through her body as if a boulder crushed her bones. The only leader her people had ever known wasn’t crossing the river. The man who spoke to God on behalf of her sisters wandered into mounds of dirt and rock. Alone. No, not alone. Their God was with Moses. He had always been.

Jonah ran to her side, hugged her, and rolled his little staff round and round in front of her face.

He was all boy. But a compassionate boy. She grinned at the pride he showed in his smooth, decorated stick.

“Come now, Jonah.” She rose and grabbed his dirt-caked hand. “God has given us a new home. We must be ready to cross the Jordan.”

Before she retrieved her water jar, she beheld the form of Moses growing smaller among the landscape. She did not recall fear ever revealing itself in his face. He went where God led him. Into a desert. Into battle. Up a mountain. And now, she would go where God led her. Even if she had to cross a raging river with a walled fortress on the other side.