The Pilgrim Song (34 page)

Finally the last of the candidates was baptized, and Devoe began to say, “We give thanks that God has sent us these, and now I’ll pronounce the benediction—”

“Just a minute, Preacher.”

Every head turned, including Hannah’s. She saw Clint, who had been standing over to one side, come forward. He had stayed in the barn since their conversation three days earlier, and her heart had ached for him. There was nothing she could say, however, but she had prayed that he would not leave. The thought of that had caused a riot in her heart that she had not anticipated.

“Yes, Clint?”

“I guess you’ve got one more.”

“One more?” Crutchfield looked around. “Who have we missed?”

Clint flashed a smile, and Hannah saw a light in his eyes she had never seen. “You’ve got me, Preacher.”

A murmuring went over the crowd, and Hannah felt her breath grow short. She clasped her hands together so hard that they ached as Clint spoke.

“When you preached last Sunday morning on how Christ Jesus died to save sinners, I didn’t pay much attention. But three nights ago I was out at the river. I felt that my life had become pretty intolerable.”

Hannah saw that Clint did not look at her, but she knew with a sudden stab of regret that she was the cause of this. She listened intently as he went on to tell of his experience. And then as he spoke of how he had called on God and asked Him to save him, she felt tears gathering in her eyes. Clint concluded, “And I did what I should have done a long time ago. I got on my knees and asked Jesus Christ to come into my life. He’s my Savior now, Preacher, and I want to give testimony to that in baptism.”

Wild applause broke out, and Hannah could not see for the tears. When she blinked them away, she saw Clint turn and look directly at her. She could not speak or move, but he smiled and nodded, then turned and said, “I’m ready, Preacher.” He got into the tank fully dressed, and after Crutchfield baptized him, he came up out of the water, wiping his face. “May I follow you, Jesus, in everything I do.”

Hannah broke out singing “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” and the entire congregation joined in.

After the song Hannah sat in her seat, her head bowed, and thanked God for Clint’s salvation. “Whatever happens, I’m glad of this, Lord, and I know it’s your doing,” she whispered.

****

She waited until Clint had changed into the extra clothes he had brought, and then she watched as a line of people went by to express their pleasure at his decision. Finally she approached him, feeling strangely weak. She held out her hand, and he took it, saying nothing, but his eyes were fixed on her.

“Clint, I can’t tell you how happy I am.”

“I knew you would be, Hannah. I would have come to you before, but I’ve been working some things out.”

Hannah met his gaze and saw there a new softness and gentleness. “Well . . . will you be leaving now, Clint?”

Clint was still holding her hand. “You know that song we’ve sung so much, that pilgrim song?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s what I am. If the Lord says go, I’ll go. If He says stay, I’ll stay.” Then he squeezed her hand and covered it with his other one. “But one thing I want you to know, Hannah Winslow. I’ve got to change a lot of things in my life, but I’ll never change how I feel about you.”

Hannah felt her throat thicken, and again she felt tears forming in her eyes. She blinked them away as quickly as she could, then removed her hand. She felt confused, but
his words had warmed her. She knew that even if she never married this man, she would love him as long as she lived.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Not a Deer in the Woods

Christmas had come—the second Christmas for the Winslows in Georgia. Now as Lewis put the string of threaded popcorn over the tree, he thought of how life had changed. New York, with all of its luxuries—the fine house, the clothes, the cars—all seemed to be a vague dream. Life now was getting the cow milked, making butter, putting in the garden, making sorghum, trying to keep enough cash on hand for the absolute necessities.

He sighed heavily, stepped down off the chair, and turned to Kat and Dallas, who were stringing red berries. “How are those strings coming?” Kat was always the bright spot in a generally dark picture, and she gave him a brilliant smile.

“Fine, Daddy. It’s going to be a beautiful tree. Even better than last year.”

“I ain’t never had a Christmas tree,” Dallas said, looking up. He closed one eye as he poked the needle through the berry, then looked up and smiled. “Christmas is nice, ain’t it, Mr. Winslow?”

“Very nice, Dallas.” Lewis had been amazed at how the boy, who had been eerily quiet when they had met him, had opened up. He knew Kat and the rest of the Winslow family were largely responsible for the change. Dallas and Kat had become best friends. They roamed the hills together, and Dallas had taught the girl the names of innumerable plants. He also had taken her hunting often enough that she had become quite proficient.

“Have you done that extra math work, Kat?”

“Oh, Daddy, I don’t want to do that on Christmas Eve.”

“You’ll have to do it sometime. May as well get it over with so you can enjoy the rest of your vacation.”

Kat sighed and shook her head. “I just don’t like those word problems.” Her math book was lying on the table, and she opened it. “These problems don’t make any sense.”

“What do you mean they don’t make sense?”

“Well, just listen to this.” Kat read off a long math problem having to do with the number of acres a farmer would have if he had so many acres of cotton, so many of corn, and so many of wheat and then sold off a different fraction of each of them. She flung the book aside. “Who could work that?”

“Why, that’d be two hundred twenty-six and three-quarters acres,” Dallas said. He was stringing another bead, seemingly paying little heed.

Lewis stared at Dallas. “Have you worked that problem before, son?”

“No, sir, but she just read it out.”

“He can do that, Daddy,” Kat said with some pride. “Just give him two long sums to add together.”

“How much is three hundred twenty-six and four hundred twenty-one?” Lewis said.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Dallas answered, “Why, that’s easy. Seven hundred and forty-seven.”

“Give him four numbers like that, Daddy.”

Lewis rattled off four three-digit numbers, and again, without hesitation, Dallas said, “One thousand, three hundred and twenty-three.” He saw that the man was staring at him, and his brow wrinkled. “That’s right, ain’t it?”

“How should I know?” Lewis shrugged.

“It’s right.” Kat beamed. “He never misses.”

Lewis was shocked. He had heard of such natural gifts but had never seen anyone demonstrate them. He said, “Let’s talk about this a bit.” He went over and picked up Kat’s math book, and for the next twenty minutes he shot problem after
problem at Dallas, who answered them all, seemingly without even computing.

“Isn’t he smart?” Kat beamed.

“Certainly is. Son, you ought to be in school. You’ve got a gift there.”

“No, sir! I tried to go to school once, but they just laughed at me.”

“Well, they won’t laugh at you now,” Lewis said. “You must get some schooling.”

Dallas flushed. “They’d jist laugh at me ’cause I ain’t got no fittin’ clothes, and they laugh at my grandma.”

“I can’t do much about your grandma, although I like her myself, but we can do something about the clothes, surely.”

“I’ve been begging him to go to school, but he won’t do it,” Kat said.

“Well,” Lewis said, “I’ll talk to the principal. I think something can be arranged.”

“Won’t that be fun, Dallas? We can go to school together.” Dallas looked dubious. “I don’t know about that,” he mumbled.

“You’ve got to, Dallas. You’ve got to get an education.” She reached out and tugged the boy’s thin sleeve. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”

****

Christmas was over, at least all except for taking down the tree. Lewis stood in the living room silently thinking about the day. He had not dreamed that he would have so enjoyed Christmas. He never had before back in New York. They no longer had expensive presents to exchange, but they shared a great meal together and were surprisingly happy. Missouri Ann had come and cooked the turkey, and Lewis thought about how often she had been in the house. The thought of Missouri troubled him, and he walked over to the window and stared out. The stars were almost obliterated by low clouds, and he felt that snow was in the air. But his mind was not on
that. He thought again of how they had sung songs, Clint playing his harmonica and the rest of them joining in on the old hymns and Christmas carols. He had not missed how Hannah had lifted her eyes to Clint shyly when she thought no one was looking, and he muttered, “I wonder what that’s all about.” He still worried about Hannah, for life seemed to be passing her by.

As for Jenny, she had spent much of her time lately taking care of Crutchfield’s two children, but Lewis thought she had a restless spirit.
She’ll never be happy on this farm, but where can she go?
he wondered.

Then he thought of Josh. Josh had been strangely quiet for weeks now, even for months, and for a while at the Christmas celebration he had smiled and seemed like his old self, but then the mood had vanished, and he had sat silently throughout most of the evening.

Finally Lewis turned and walked upstairs, tired and already thinking about the work to do the following day. He went to his room and sat down to take off his shoes when a tiny knock came at his door. Surprised, he got up and opened it. “Why, Kat, what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, do you want to come in?”

Kat looked disturbed. “I guess so, Daddy. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why, sure, honey. Here, sit down and talk all you please. I’m not sleepy.” Lewis listened then as Kat began speaking of Dallas, and she asked him if he had been serious about getting the boy into school. Lewis had already decided to do what he could and tried to reassure her. “We’ll do everything we can, honey, and I think it’ll work out fine. I think he’s a genius in math, and who knows what else is going on in that mind of his.”

Lewis’s words seemed to satisfy Kat as she sat cross-legged on his bed. Finally she looked up at him and said, “You know what, Daddy?”

“What?”

“I love Missouri Ann.”

Lewis smiled. Kat did, indeed, care about her. Missouri Ann was teaching her to cook and do dozens of other tasks that had come with a lifetime of hard work. Lewis said, “I’m glad you do. She’s a fine woman.”

“Do you think you’ll ever marry her?”

The question caught Lewis off guard. He flushed and ran his hands through his hair. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m pretty old.”

“Missouri Ann says you’re not.”

Lewis looked at his daughter. He hadn’t considered Kat’s feelings in the matter. “Would it trouble you if I married her?”

“No! I’d love to have another mother.”

Lewis was shocked at the response. He had tried to put the woman’s proclamation of marriage out of his mind. It seemed impossible to him that God would put the two of them together.

Kat leaned across the bed and put her arms around him. “I really would,” she whispered, pressing her face against his. “I miss Mom, don’t you?”

“Yes, honey, of course I do. It gets easier as the years go by, but I still think about her all the time.”

“Me too. I wish she could’ve moved to Georgia with us.”

“Perhaps it’s better that she didn’t have to go through these hard times with us.”

“Maybe. But I still miss her.”

Lewis hugged her, smelling the freshness of the homemade soap in her hair. He sat there quietly, stroking her hair and wondering what to do next.

****

Clint carried the rifle lightly and kept his eyes moving from point to point in the woods. He had come out seeking a deer and had wandered far from home. Deer had been scarce, and his luck had not been good for the past month,
so the larder was lean. January had arrived, and Clint could not help wondering what 1931 would bring. In the few weeks he’d been a Christian, he had stayed up late at night reading the Scriptures and had spent a great deal of time with Devoe Crutchfield. He respected the preacher’s knowledge of the Word of God. The last time the two had talked, he had said in despair, “I’ll never learn the Bible like you know it.”

“I’ve been at it a long time, Clint. You stay at it, and God will open things up to you. It’s not how much you read the Bible, it’s how open you are to the Spirit of God. Sometimes,” Devoe added, “God will take one verse and it will mean more to you than anything you’ve ever known. More than a hundred chapters even.”

Clint had taken comfort in this and had continued to study. He and Hannah spoke during the normal course of events, but he had said nothing more of his love for her, nor had she spoken of this to him. He saw that she was troubled and confused and had simply prayed that God would give her understanding. A peace had come to him about this matter, and he was now willing to wait for her for as long as it took. He had learned to bring things like this to God instead of carrying them himself, and now as he made his way through the woods, he felt a sense of joy at how Christ had changed his life.

He sat quietly and waited for a deer to show up at the creek, and when none came, he crossed the creek and headed toward the rising ground. Jesse Cannon had told him that the woods in this area were thick with deer, and indeed, he saw many signs of that. He noted not only the tracks but also where they had eaten away at the bark of the young saplings.

Finally he halted abruptly at a sound. His hand slipped to the trigger. Then he realized it was not animals he heard but human voices.

Must be other hunters,
he thought.
I wouldn’t want to be mistook for a deer.
He moved forward cautiously, and finally he caught a glimpse of movement ahead. He could not see
through the thick woods until he had gone another thirty yards, and then he saw the outlines of a truck. A shock ran through him as he recognized the Winslow truck.