Over the Misty Mountains (31 page)

“I believe in Jesus,” she said. “But it’s too late for me to do anything about it.”

“No, it’s not too late. Jesus said, ‘Come unto me all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’”

“The Bible says that?”

“Jesus said that. Yes, it’s recorded in the Bible. It’s one of my favorite Scriptures,” Anderson said slowly. “I think it’s one of those Scriptures that sounds so simple, yet it means so much. Can you imagine,” he said thoughtfully, “any other human being who ever lived promising that? Anybody can come and get rest.”

“What does it mean, Paul?”

“I think Jesus knows our hearts better than we can ever know them, and most of us get tired and worn out. We suffer failure, and we do wrong things. We’re sorry, but then we do them again.”

“I know all about that,” Rhoda said bleakly. “A few times I tried to change the way I lived, but I never was able to. After a while I always went back.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to Jesus.”

“What does that mean, Paul? Go to Jesus? I mean, He lived a long time ago. I’ve never even seen Him.”

Paul had found it difficult to explain salvation to those who had no concept of who Jesus was. He said, “Well, let me try to explain as best I can. Sit down on the bank here, Rhoda.” The two sat down, and Paul began. “God created man, but then man sinned against God, thinking he knew what was best for his own life. He soon learned he was wrong, and from that point on, man has been lost and wicked and sinful. But there was no way for man to change,” Paul said finally. “So God did the only thing that could help. He sent His only Son as a sacrifice for man’s sins. He died on the cross so men and women and children might be free from sin.”

“How can my sins be taken away from me because He died?”

“Nobody can explain that, Rhoda. It’s the great mystery of salvation, but it’s true. Let me tell you another story. Back in the Old Testament, the children of Israel were wandering in the desert. They disobeyed God, and God sent a curse. He sent fiery serpents—snakes with a venomous bite. Everyone who was bitten was dying, and many people were bitten. They came to Moses and begged him to go to God for them to take the snakes away.”

“And did God do that?”

“No, the Bible doesn’t say He took the snakes away,” Paul said. “He told Moses, ‘You take a piece of brass and make a brass snake out of it. Then set it on a pole, high up in the air, so everybody in the camp can see it, no matter where they are.’ There were about a million people in that camp, Rhoda, so it must’ve been quite a pole. Then God said, ‘If anyone is bitten, let him look at the brass snake up on that pole, and as soon as he does, he’ll be healed of his snakebite.’”

Rhoda listened to the murmuring of the brook and the breeze that was rustling the autumn leaves overhead. She had never heard of anything like this. “What happened, Paul?”

“Every time anybody got bit, they looked at that brass snake. Just imagine a man out in the field, and suddenly he feels a bite. He looks down and sees that awful serpent with its fangs in his leg. He shakes him off, but he feels the poison running through him, and he knows that everybody that’s ever been bitten by one of those snakes has died. He feels himself growing weak. His eyes become unfocused. Pain courses through him as the poison begins to kill him, and then he remembers what God had said. ‘If anyone is bitten, let him look at the brass snake, and he’ll be healed.’ And, Rhoda, imagine that even as he falls to the ground with the last bit of strength he has, he looks up at the pole and the sun catches the brass snake and makes it glitter there in the desert. And the minute that he looks, suddenly the pain is gone!” Anderson exclaimed. “The poison is gone! He’s healed, and he knows that he’s alive. His eyesight clears up, and strength rushes through his body.”

Rhoda was enthralled. “How can just looking at a brass snake do that? How could that help a man who was dying?”

“Well, later, in the New Testament,” Paul said, “Jesus was asked one time about how He was going to help the world. And He said this, ‘Even as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness. Even so, must the Son of Man be lifted up.’” Anderson paused and said, “Jesus was lifted up on the cross, just like that serpent. Now, no matter that it’s seventeen hundred years later, God says, ‘If we’ll just look to Jesus in faith, all of our sins will be forgiven, and God will take them because of Jesus.”

For a long time the two talked, and finally Rhoda said, “I never heard anything like this.”

She rose quickly, and Paul rose with her. “I haven’t offended you, have I?”

“No, I feel real good, Paul.” She reached out and touched his arm. It was the first time she had touched a man with any affection for a long time, and she said quietly, “Thanks for talking to me. I’ll think about what you said.” As she turned and walked back and the darkness seemed to wrap about her like a shroud, she thought about the serpent on a pole and about all she had ever heard about Jesus Christ, and her heart was strangely warmed.

****

Another service was held a week later, and more people attended that one. Hawk stayed on the outskirts, supposedly guarding the group. He noticed that Zeke Taylor did not attend the services. As he kept his eye on the man, Hawk saw that Taylor was drinking heavily. Immediately after the service was over, he walked by and said, “Taylor, we’re getting into more dangerous territory now. Not unlikely we might find ourselves in trouble with the Indians.”

“What you tellin’ me this fer?” Taylor demanded. His face was flushed, and he stared belligerently at the tall frontiersman.

“I’m telling you because a man can’t shoot when he’s drunk, and you’re drunk, Taylor!”

“Spencer, you been puttin’ your nose in my business enough! I’m tellin’ you now. It ain’t none of your business what I do! Now get away from here, and don’t come around to me with more of your talk!”

“Taylor, you don’t understand this country. I won’t argue with you, but I won’t put up with any disorderly behavior. You give me any trouble, and I’ll lay you out!” Hawk turned his back and walked away. He could feel the burning gaze of Taylor and knew that sooner or later he would have trouble with the man.

It was the day of rest, but not for Hawk, who still left the camp and circled the surrounding territory with Sequatchie and John Russell. They were alert but saw no signs of Indians.

Back in the camp, Zeke Taylor continued to drink. He finally had drunk himself practically into a stupor, and late that afternoon he yelled at Amanda, “Bring me some of that stew, girl!”

Amanda, terrified of her father, quickly ran to get the meat. She hurried to bring the stew, and as she approached him, she tripped and spilled the stew right down the front of Zeke Taylor’s dirty shirt. Yelling, Taylor reached up and grabbed her. “I’ll teach you to spill food!” He grabbed a strap of leather and began to beat the girl. When she didn’t cry out, he grew angrier and slashed at her almost in a frenzy. His wife came and tried to stop him, but he slashed her across the face with the leather strap, too. She yelped and fell backward, hiding her face from him.

All this, of course, did not escape the attention of the others. George Russell started across the camp to help the woman, but John Russell reached out and grabbed George, saying, “That’s family business,” he said. “A man could get hisself killed messin’ around with another man’s business.”

Finally, the savage beating stopped, and the camp grew quiet.

Elizabeth had not seen the beating, but she heard about it from Leah Russell. When she saw Amanda, she was shocked at the child’s puffy face and its red welts. She could only guess at the girl’s body, and she said to Patrick, “Something’s got to be done!”

“I’ll speak to the man,” Patrick said.

“No, wait! That’s Hawk’s job,” Elizabeth said. “Wait until he gets back!”

Hawk and Sequatchie returned less than an hour later and were met by Patrick and Elizabeth. Hawk listened as they told him the story, and he saw that Elizabeth had been crying.

“That poor child, Amanda. Her face is—well, I can’t describe it! I can’t imagine what her body looks like! That man is a beast!” she cried indignantly.

“Can’t you do something about it, Hawk?” Patrick said. “I know a man’s got a right to run his own family, but—”

Hawk said briefly, “I’ll have a word with Taylor.”

“He’s drunk,” Patrick warned him. “Be careful. He’s a vicious man, and he’s dangerous.”

Hawk, who had faced many men more dangerous than Zeke Taylor, said quietly, “I’ll be careful.”

“Do you think he could get hurt?” Patrick asked Sequatchie as Hawk turned and walked away.

“I think Zeke Taylor could get hurt,” Sequatchie said. “He’s never met a man like Hawk.”

Hawk approached the wagon, and Zeke Taylor had sobered up to some degree. When he saw Hawk coming, he turned and pulled a knife out of the wagon and stuck it into his belt. “What’s your business, Spencer?” he demanded, his voice still thick with alcohol.

“My business is the dirty skunk who beats a woman and child,” Hawk said calmly.

“It ain’t none of your affair, or nobody else’s.”

“You may be right about that as far as this train is concerned. I was asked to guide you people to the settlement, and I’m not your judge. However, I am telling you this man to man—if you
are
a man. If you lay your hand on your wife or daughter one more time and I see it or even hear about it, I’m gonna take a bullwhip and take the hide right off of you! Do you understand that, Taylor?”

Whipping out the knife, Taylor yelled mindlessly and threw himself at Hawk. Hawk simply allowed the knife to come within a few inches of his chest, then reached out and pushed it aside. He grabbed Zeke Taylor by the neck, and his iron grip closed around the man’s wrist. He started to squeeze, and Taylor began to cry out. He was much smaller than Hawk, although strong, but his strength did him no good at all. “I’m gonna turn you loose, Taylor,” Hawk said. “And I’m giving you a chance to act like a man. If you come at me again with that knife, I’ll put you down!”

He shoved Taylor away and stood waiting. An unholy fire burned in Zeke Taylor’s eyes. He cursed and began to come forward, waving the knife in the gesture of an experienced knife fighter. This time he moved carefully. Hawk had left his rifle with his gear, but he would not have used it in any case. He poised himself on the balls of his feet, with his hands out slightly.

Those who were close enough to observe saw that he was smiling. It was not a very attractive smile, however, and John Russell whispered to Sequatchie, who had come to watch, “What’s going to happen?”

“Taylor’s a dead man unless Hawk decides to show a little mercy,” Sequatchie said.

Zeke Taylor lunged forward once again, and the blade shot out. Again, Taylor was much too slow. With a lightning motion, Hawk grabbed the wrist, turned his back slightly, and flipped Taylor over, so that he struck the ground with a thumping noise. Hawk stamped down on the man’s wrist, grinding it into the dirt. Taylor shrieked in pain, but Hawk continued to grind until the knife fell to the ground. Reaching over, Hawk picked it up and pressed the knife to Taylor’s throat. With his other hand he lifted Taylor’s hair and said, “I’ve heard of folks being scalped alive, and it would pleasure me right now to do that to you.” He pressed the knife close.

“Don’t kill me!” Taylor began to moan.

Hawk said, “I’m giving you one more chance. You get out of line one more time, and I
will
scalp you after I get done beating you with that whip! That’s a promise—and I always keep my word, Taylor.”

As Hawk walked away, Zeke Taylor’s eyes burned with resentment. Getting to his feet, Zeke cast a baleful look at those who had gathered to watch. “What are you all starin’ at?” he said. “Get away from here!” He looked at his wife, wanting to beat her, but the feel of the cold steel on his throat was still too strong. He went to the wagon, found a bottle, and began to drink again.

“He’ll be more trouble before we get there.”

“I’m not his keeper,” Hawk said to Sequatchie. “But if he touches his wife or child again, I’ll put a crimp in him. I can’t stand to see a woman or a child mistreated!”

While the altercation between the two men had been taking place, Rhoda had left the camp. It had been two weeks ago to the day when she had spoken with Jacques, and she knew that she had no choice but to meet him. She had walked no farther than a few feet out into the darkness when she heard his voice call her name. He appeared suddenly and handed her a sack.

“What’s this?” she said.

“Put some of it in the water. It will make folks sick.”

“It’s poison!”

“Not bad. It won’t kill them. It’ll just make them sick.”

“What is it?” she demanded.

Instantly Cartier’s arm shot out and he grabbed Rhoda by the neck. “You do what I tell you! I have given you half the gold. These people get sick enough, they will go back. You mind what I say! Put some in the water!”

Rhoda took the bag, and Cartier disappeared.

“What am I going to do?” she moaned. She looked with horror at the bag. “How can I poison people who have been so kind to me?” She knew, however, that if she did not, Cartier would kill her. When she got back to camp, the people were still gathered around talking about the fight between Hawk and Taylor. Each wagon had its own large cask of drinking water, and she managed to put some of the poison in several of these before she decided it was too dangerous.

****

The sickness had come on so suddenly that it was frightening. The day after the fight between Hawk and Zeke Taylor, the train had started up, but by supper that night several people were complaining about terrible stomachaches. They were vomiting and breaking out into fever and sweat.

Several had such high fevers that it was questionable whether they would live. Now, three days later, there was talk of turning back.

“I don’t know what’s making people so sick!” said Paul Anderson, his face twisted with pain. “I never saw such bellyaches! What do you think it is, Hawk?”

“I’m no doctor, but it came on real sudden like,” Hawk said.