Musing #12 - "In His Hands" Chapter 6

Hi, y'all! Two chapters of In His Hands left - a post for today and another post for this upcoming Thursday :-). 
Enjoy!

Chapter 6

          

       Full night came on too quick. 

With darkness all around us and only a quarter moon to light the way, Eliza and I gave up on walking. Eliza had already tripped one too many times on hidden tree roots and large stones, and my arms ached from carrying Rosie. Besides that, I didn’t want to trip and fall, crushing Rosie to the ground.

At last, giving up, we lay down in the thick, tall blades of grass near the railroad tracks.

“I don’t like this dark,” Eliza whispered. She shuddered. “It’s eerie.” 

“I know,” I agreed. Turning, I looked at Rosie. For a wonder, she was still asleep. I’d laid her down beside me and she hadn’t stirred once.

Far off, a wolf howled.

Eliza gave a small shriek. Her fingers dug into my arm. I could feel her shaking.

“I don’t like this, Sue!” she yelped. “There’s too much darkness…and wild creatures!”

“We’ll be all right, Eliza.” I replied, although my own voice quaked. I swallowed hard and went on, “Do you remember Mama’s favorite verse?”

Eliza thought a moment, then quoted, “‘Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee: because He trusteth in Thee.’ Is that right?” 

“Yes, that’s right. Mama loves that verse. She says it to us all the time, whenever we get scared.” I drew a shuddery breath. Will I hear her say it to me again, I wonder?

“Well, I’m scared now,” Eliza stated.

“So am I.”

“Please, Sue,” she begged. “Say it to me. Your voice is like Mama’s. It’s always more comforting when someone else tells you to not be afraid.”

I complied and repeated the verse. When I’d finished, Eliza said, “Now, pray.”

I nodded. If there was one sure way to get out of this fix, it was Jesus Christ.

As my voice grew stronger with each word of my prayer, Eliza’s eyelids fluttered. Only a few moments later, she was out cold.

*** 

“Are you hungry, Sue?” Eliza asked. 

I turned to her. The sun had just begun to rise, and I’d awoken both of my sisters. We needed to get an early start if we ever wanted to reach Fresno.

“Hungry?” I nodded. “I sure am!”

“Me, too.” She sighed. “I’d give anything for one of Mama’s good homemade breakfasts—even porridge.”

I grinned. Every member of the Harris family knew how much Eliza disliked porridge. She must be pretty hungry if she’s willing to eat even porridge, I thought, my smile fading.

I bowed my head and barely whispered, “God, please, provide food soon.”

All three of us rose. I scooped up Rosie. 

“C’mon,” I motioned to the tracks. “Time to go.”

Rosie shook her head and flailed one leg. “I’m hungry!” she wailed. “And I’m hot! I don’t wanna go!”

“I know, darling.” I cuddled her close. “Sue will find you something to eat, real soon. But you have to—”

“Sue!” 

Eliza’s shriek stopped me dead in my tracks. 

“What?” I demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong!” Eliza pointed. “Isn’t that a cabin up ahead?” I followed her finger. My breath caught in my throat.

“Yes! Yes, it is!”

“Let’s go!”

“Hold it.” I grabbed her hand and held on tightly. “We’re all going together. Who knows who’s holed up in that cabin?”

Eliza’s face showed her reluctance, but she listened to me as, together, we made our way towards the cabin.

As we approached the cabin, I gestured for Eliza to duck into the nearby shrubbery. “You stay here with Rosie,” I told her, placing Rosie on her lap. “I’m going inside.”

“Sue!” Rosie lifted her arms and bawled. “Take me with you!”

“Hush, Rosie,” I commanded sternly, but I pulled them both into a quick hug. “Be good for Eliza. I’ll be back soon.”

Rosie lay back against Eliza with a whimper. Her lip trembled. I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Love you both,” I said. 

Then, gathering every ounce of my courage, I stood and strode to the cabin’s window. Standing on my tiptoes, I peeked inside. A woman sat knitting in a rocking chair. A boy about two years of age was at a wooden table, shoving large pieces of bread and jam in his mouth. 

Looks harmless. 

Mama’s “Don’t talk to strangers,” resounded in my head. She reminded my sisters and me of that no matter where we went. 

But we’ve been travelling across country, I figured. I’ve talked to many folks I don’t know. Right before we left, Mama told me to keep my sisters safe. I’ll do that. There’s no man in that cabin, and the woman is a mother. 

Taking a deep breath, I retied my tangled hair and smoothed my wrinkled dress. I still felt hesitant, so I took a breath and prayed quietly, God, what should I do?

In answer, the woman turned her head just then. I wasted no time and flung myself to the porch. But it was too late. 

The next moment, the woman had charged outside and was rounding the curved porch, a heavy poker—used for prodding a fire— in hand. 

Stopping before me, she demanded sharply, “Who are you and what do you want?”  

With a gulp, I rose to my feet. “I’m Susan Harris. I—I need help.”

This tall, young woman held her metal rod and regarded me curiously. I stared right back at her, taking in every detail. She had light-brown hair, which was gathered in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. Several runaway strands clung to her sweaty face. Her light cotton dress was covered in a patched apron. 

“What kind of help?” the lady asked at last, her voice softening. She lowered the poker. “Are you hungry?” 

“No…well, er…yes, ma’am.” Confused, my words poured out in a rush. Taking a deep breath and calming myself, I went on, “I have two sisters. We were on our way to California when the train broke down, and we got off. The train left without us.”

“Oh, stars alive!” exclaimed the woman. “How dreadful! Where are these sisters of yours?”

“Over there.” Turning, I called, “Rosie! Eliza! It’s all right! Come on out.”

They emerged from the shrubbery and stepped onto the porch. By now, the boy I’d seen earlier had joined his mother outside. I smiled at him. Orange curls crowned his head, and his face showed the remains of his messy breakfast. 

“This is my boy, Robert,” the woman told us. “I’m Mrs. Beth

Davis. And who did you say you are, again?”

“Susan, ma’am. These are my sisters, Eliza and Rosanna.”

“I see. Have you three had anything to eat?”

“Not since yesterday afternoon,” Eliza spoke up. “We had no supper last night.” She smacked her lips. “I’m famished!”

“Come on inside,” Mrs. Davis invited. “I have fresh, warm bread and ham, along with an array of jams and jellies. Perhaps I can fill your stomachs and you can fill my ears with information about yourselves. And,” her eyes landed on Eliza’s hand, which was still a shade of purple, “I can look at that hand of yours, young’un.”

I flashed a smile. “Thank you very much, ma’am. We’d

appreciate it.”

We came inside and were seated at a small, wooden table. Mrs. Davis bustled about from a cookstove to another table set up nearby. A moment later, she set steaming dishes before the eyes of us three hungry girls. 

“Eat as much as you’d like,” she said. “You look like you could use some nutrition.”

Eliza and Rosie immediately helped themselves. “Thank you,” I said for all three of us and gave Eliza a small kick from under the table.

“Yes,” she said, mouth full. “Thank you.” 
“You’re welcome,” Mrs. Davis answered.

We greedily demolished the ham and bread, which was followed by a small bowl of grits for each. Milk washed it all down. I sighed as my belly settled down and glanced at my sisters. They looked up from their dishes in satisfaction.

Now feeling much better, I turned to Mrs. Davis. She was seated again in her rocking chair and had called Eliza to her side. As she tended to my sister’s bruised hand, I told Mrs. Davis everything, starting from the arrival of Grandfather’s letter and ending at the time that I peeked into her window. 

Mrs. Davis listened without one interruption. Her head stayed bent over Eliza’s hand the entire time, and I made no attempt to guess at her thoughts.

At last, when I paused for breath, Mrs. Davis released Eliza’s hand and looked up at me. “What a mess you’ve gotten yourselves into. How do you expect to get out of it?”

“I’m hoping someone has missed us by now,” I said. “Someone on the train, that is. They might stop the train and come looking for us.” 
“Uh-huh. And if they don’t?”

“We keep walking.” I shrugged. “I don’t think we have much choice.”

“Hmmm.” Mrs. Davis shifted in her chair and her eye flew to my waist. “What is that?”

“What?” I looked down and felt my cheeks flush. “Oh.” Eliza’s dress was still tied around my waist. By now, it was filthy—and probably torn more than it was only yesterday, I thought. “It’s…um…”

               I licked my lips and muttered, “A Sunday dress for my sister.”

“Under all that gunk, it looks to be a very pretty material,” Mrs. Davis answered. She held out a hand. “May I see it?”

 I untied it and handed it over. “Careful. There’s a needle tucked into the fabric. At least, there should be, if it didn’t fall out.”

I watched as Mrs. Davis took it onto her lap and looked it over closely. A momentary light entered her dark eyes. She’s forgotten about our situation entirely, I thought. She acts as though she’s never seen a pretty dress before. It surprised me, but then I looked around. 

The cabin was simple. There were only two cots, a few dresses— made of the same dark cotton as the one Mrs. Davis wore now— hanging close by, the stove, the two tables, three wooden chairs, and one rocking chair, where Mrs. Davis sat. On one of the tables rested only three utensils: a pot, kettle, and spoon. Eliza, Rosie, and I were eating out of the only dishes. A limp, raggedy bonnet hung by the door. 

There’s no color anywhere, I thought. Everything was brown, except for the bonnet, which was a pale blue, and the pot, kettle, and stove which were gray, of course. No wonder this woman got so excited over a single dress.

“If I had such pretty material,” Mrs. Davis went on dreamily, “I’d use it for another bonnet for me.” She looked up. “After my husband died soon after Robert was born, I have to be pretty tight. Almost everything we eat is grown on our own farm. Any food we cannot grow, we must buy—like sugar, and we hardly have money for that, much less money to purchase new material for bonnets. Any spare money goes towards material for Robert’s trousers. Although I’m thankful to Jesus that we have all we need, and I can keep my Robert with me, there are times…” She sighed. “Never mind. I’m just rambling.”

“Is there a town near here?” I asked. “Is that where you get your supplies?”

“Yes.”

“How far?”

“About three miles,” she answered.

“That’s not far at all,” I said, beaming. We can get some means of transportation while there! I patted my pocket, where I had the money needed for our last set of train tickets. Hopefully it’s enough to at least hitch a ride on a stagecoach.

“Today is Sunday,” Mrs. Davis said. “Robert and I were just preparing to head for church in town. I’ll tell you what. If you, Susan, help me hitch up the wagon, I’ll give you three a ride.”

I grinned and shot up from my seat. “Yes, ma’am.” 

What a blessing! A filled stomach, and a ride to town. I won’t have to carry Rosie, I rejoiced mentally. Better still, I could attend Sunday service before heading to Fresno. Thank You, Jesus!  

***

Halfway there, I suddenly noticed the thick overcast of gray clouds. “I hope it doesn’t rain,” I told Mrs. Davis.

Looking up, she squinted. “It just might. I better pull into these woods. We don’t want to get all wet.”

I wouldn’t mind. Of course, I didn’t voice that aloud. That would be disrespectful. But…I want to reach town! I have to get my sisters to our grandparents’ as soon as possible! As it was, we would arrive at least a few days later than if we’d taken that last train, due to the stagecoach’s slow pace.

I sighed inwardly. Trust Mrs. Davis. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even be heading for town. 

Mrs. Davis drove the wagon beneath a stand of trees and drew up on the reins. The horses snorted and came to a standstill. 

“I didn’t like the looks of those clouds,” she said in an undertone. 

Fear clutched my mind. “Why not?” No gray clouds are a friendly sight. What was the difference in these clouds that made Mrs. Davis clench the reins in fear?

“I’ve only seen such dark clouds once before.” She shook her head. “Before a terrible, terrible storm of thunder, lightning, and hail. It came on suddenly, just like these clouds.”

I shivered. “Oh, no. Not here, with only leaves for coverage.” Closing my eyes, I began to pray, God, please…

“He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the LORD. His heart is established, he shall not be afraid…”

Just like that, Psalm one hundred twelve, verses seven and eight, popped into my mind, and I relaxed. Thank you, Lord. I pulled my sisters close and whispered to both, “A bad storm is coming, girls, but we needn’t be frightened. Jesus is with us.” They nodded and clung to me. 

“Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God goes with thee whithersoever thou goest,’” Eliza murmured.

“Yes, Eliza. And, ‘He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the LORD. His heart is established, he shall not be afraid,’” I added.

“Not afraid!” Rosie cried.

I smiled to myself. God’s Word is a comfort to all, even young children.

Mrs. Davis climbed into the wagon bed and sat down beside us. She pulled Robert onto her lap and turned to me. “I would gallop for town or hightail it back to the farm, but I don’t think I’d make either one in time.”

“We’ll be all right,” I assured her. “These trees offer more protection than I’d at first thought, and more protective still is Jesus.” “Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Davis agreed. 

We then bowed our heads in prayer. Afterwards, feeling even better, we settled down in the wagon bed. Mrs. Davis had packed quilts, and we threw them overtop ourselves. 

Just like that, the clouds opened, and the rain fell—in great bucketsful. Pat, pat, pat went hard, steady raindrops against our leafy roof. 

It’s such a pretty sound, I thought. 

Few drops reached us, and, other than several strong gusts of wind, the storm was milder than I’d expected. In less than ten minutes, it was all over, and the clouds fled.

“A miracle!” exclaimed Mrs. Davis. She sat down again in the spring seat. “That’s what it is. A miracle.” 

In His Hands © 2018 Ellen Senechal