Guide Me Home (40 page)

She nodded slowly, her braid shifting gently with the movement and picking up gold from the lanterns hanging on the wagon's side. “Yes. Because they know who gives strength to the weak.”

He crunched his eyebrows, puzzled.

A soft smile appeared on her face, erasing a bit of her weariness. “It's from Isaiah, one of Daddy's favorites verses. ‘He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.' Daddy relies on God when he needs Him. He's leaning heavily on God now, and he's encouraging Mama to do the same.” The worry crept in again. “I hope Mama remembers—”

“Reb! Bring me those bandages an' such now. I's ready to go in.”

She jerked away from the wagon and ran to Tolly. Devlin trotted on her heels. She handed off the smaller pack and helped Tolly adjust his load. With the pack of torches, another of food, ropes, ax, canteens, and a medical bag hanging from his shoulders, back, and belt, he was as weighted down as a pack mule.

She nibbled her lip. “Won't you let me go with you, Tolly? I could help you.”

“Nuh-uh, an' don't be askin' again. One Hardin in that cave is enough.”

Reb hung her head, and Devlin automatically stepped forward and gripped her arm, hoping she found some comfort in his touch.

She gave him a weak smile and then reached for Tolly's hand. “My prayers go with you.”

“I'll be countin' on that, Reb.”

Mr. Ross crowded in. “Stop talking and get in there. We've wasted enough time waiting for him to return on his own. Who knows how far he's gone, what shape he's in by now after so many hours?” He pointed at Tolly, his face contorting. “You had better bring out my son, Sandford, or—”

Devlin stepped between the men. “Mr. Sandford is doing you a favor, Ross, risking his life to chase down your boy—a boy who should have had the sense not to go in that cave in the first place. Instead of threatening Tolly, you should be thanking him.”

The man curled his lip. “I'll thank him when he's been successful.” He returned to his weeping wife.

Tolly and Reb said their good-byes, and then Tolly, with a torch held high, moved into the gaping maw.

Reb gazed after him, her shoulders square and her eyes dry. Devlin's heart ached for her, and his admiration for her expanded. Mrs. Ross's wails pierced the gray predawn. Mr. Ross continued to mutter, occasionally inserting a mild expletive. Devlin stared at them, baffled. They were wealthy people, powerful by society's standards. Yet they appeared helpless against a hardship. If trial came his way, would he dissolve like the Rosses or stand firm like the Hardins?

“He giveth power to the faint,”
Reb had told him. Devlin knew that “He” was God. But why would God bestow anything on him when he'd never given Him any part of himself? If tragedy befell him or his family, Devlin feared he would behave as shamefully as the Rosses.

Reb pulled in a long breath and turned, aiming her steps toward her parents.

He caught her hand and said quietly, “Reb?”

“Yes?”

“This source of inner strength you and your parents have…Will you tell me how to access it?”

In the flicker of lantern light, he witnessed her eyes brighten with a blur of tears. Her lips curved into the sweetest, most tender, most joyful smile he'd ever seen. She squeezed his hand. “Let Daddy tell you. He's the one who taught me.”

Remorse smote him. How could he be so selfish? He jerked his hand away. “I shouldn't bother you or your father at a time like this. Not while you're worried about your sister and he's comforting your mother. They must be half-sick with worry.”

She caught his hand again and pulled gently yet with determination. “My daddy would say God prepared the way for ‘such a time as this.' ”

A comment Tolly made weeks ago crept from the recesses of Devlin's memory.
“He knowed we'd be here on this very day an' time…”
Other memories surfaced, of moments when his soul seemed to yearn for something. Or Someone. He'd pushed those feelings aside, but in that moment Devlin wanted nothing more than to answer the mysterious call on his heart. A sweet spiral of longing, of pieces coming together, coiled through his middle. The pull on his heart was more intense than Reb's insistent tug on his hand.

Her smile embraced him with a gentle warmth. “Trust me, Devlin. He'll welcome the chance to introduce you to his Source of strength. Talk to him. Yes?”

Tolly

T
olly took his time. Those folks waiting for word on their children wanted him to hurry, and he understood their need. But going too fast might mean missing something important. Going too fast might put him in danger, cause him injury. And then how would he be any help at all to those two wandering in here? So he bowed under the weight of his load, sweeping the torch slowly back and forth, searching for clues to Cissy and Nick's whereabouts.

Fool youngsters. Fool Doyle Spencer for not shooting a warning shot in the air the way guards were supposed to if something unusual happened. He wouldn't fuss too much at the young people. They were impetuous, curious, hadn't quite grown into their sense yet. He was mostly upset with Doyle. Tolly couldn't shuck the notion that Doyle had ignored his instructions because they'd been given by a black man.

Most of the Spencers in the hills were good-hearted folks, but that Orval Spencer carried some real prejudices against anybody different from him. And he'd passed those feelings on to his sons. Why the man wanted to leave his boys with a legacy of hate, Tolly would never understand. Pappy's voice whispered from the caverns of Tolly's memory.
“Jesus Hisself tol' us to treat othuhs the way we wants to be treated. So you don' hold on to grudges, Tolly. Don' speak ill o' folks even if you think they deserve it. Be willin' to fo'give. Allus 'member it's yo' callin' as a followuh o' Christ to be Jesus wit' skin on.”

Tolly murmured, “I 'member, Pappy.” If his father could forgive the man who'd kept him bound in slavery, Tolly could surely forgive one thickheaded hills man for holding the color of his skin against him.

The torch's flame lit something on the cave floor, something small and thin. Tolly moved the source of light slowly and released a happy gasp. Two hairpins shimmered on the rock floor. He pinched them up and examined them close. They were still clean, hardly a speck of dust marring the squiggly pieces of metal. Which meant the pins hadn't been here long. Hadn't Reb told him how she'd fixed up Cissy's hair all pretty? These pins had to have come from that girl's head.

He dropped the pins in his pocket and thought for a few minutes. From this spot they could go farther into the main level, or they could've taken the natural stairway named the Corkscrew to a lower level. Going forward would be the easier route. He took a few forward steps, scanning the floor for more pins, scuffs in the dirt, anything. Nothing out of the ordinary presented itself.

With his load balanced he eased to the edge of the winding rock stairway and held the torch over the ragged opening. No other hairpins winked in the light, but a small rectangle—was it paper?—lay against a boulder halfway down. Tolly slipped the packs from his shoulders and made his way down the rocky pathway to the rectangle. He picked it up and turned it over. His pulse gave a leap. He held an image of Nick, Cissy, and the little burro Cissy called Beauregard.

He released a snort of consternation. Of course they'd take the hard route instead of the easy one. But at least he knew which way to search. Tolly secured his torch in a gap to free up his hands, then clambered to the top. One pack at a time, he carried the items to the bottom. It took him three trips, but once he had everything transported, he loaded himself up again, yanked the torch loose, and drew in a deep breath.

“Lawd in heaven, lead me to them fool young uns. An' let 'em be all right.”

Rebekah

Rebekah sat cross legged on the ground just outside the cave's gaping entrance. A circle of lantern light fell on Devlin's and her parents' faces, showing Daddy's fervency and Devlin's attentiveness. Mama kept her head low, her eyes closed, and Rebekah could only surmise her mother was praying—for Cissy, for Nick, for Tolly, and for Devlin.

While Daddy patiently, steadfastly explained the difference between knowing about God and becoming one of His children, a truth she'd learned years earlier, her mind drifted backward in time. She committed to memory the sweet time with Cissy, Devlin's steady presence during the ride to her cabin to alert her parents and his continued support during the long wait, Tolly's unhesitating agreement to go in after the pair of wanderers, and Mama's quietness.

Knowing that Mama was reliving the agonizing hours when they'd waited for Tolly to find Andy, Rebekah marveled at how calmly Mama sat—no tears, no wild wailing. Instead, she reflected a quiet peace and trust beyond anything Rebekah had witnessed since Andy's death. Had Daddy's and her prayers helped Mama regain her joy and faith? And if Mama could lose her deep sorrow after burying her son, shouldn't Rebekah be able to lose her guilt?

Hotel guests and people from the hollow gathered on the grass in the moonlight. Word of misfortune always spread quickly in the small community. She sensed some had arrived out of curiosity, others out of concern, and still more because they hungered for excitement. Their muttered voices provided a constant background hum, but at her husband's insistence, Mrs. Ross had finally stopped her noisy weeping.

He'd stated loudly enough for Rebekah to overhear, “You're making a spectacle of us, Genevieve.” So she'd quieted but not with the kind of peace Mama exhibited. She continued to snuffle and press a handkerchief to her nose while gazing woefully at her husband, who stood grim faced and seemingly distanced from his wife's distress.

Even though Devlin was right about the indignity of their behavior, her heart ached for Nick's mother and father. They only wanted their son returned to them. Just as she and her parents wanted Cissy back with them again.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, lapsing into prayer again. She'd repeated the same prayer so many times it formed effortlessly.
Dear God, let Cissy and Nick be safe. Let Tolly find them alive and bring them out whole.
As she prayed, she became aware of Daddy praying, too, aloud but whisper soft.

“Our dear, lovin' Father an' Lord, while You keep watch over our Cissy an' guide her safely out again, I thank You for usin' her calamity to open Devlin's heart to his need for You. Thank You that he's met His Savior.”

Rebekah's heart leaped. She opened her eyes and stared at Devlin. Tears slid from beneath his closed eyelids and crept past the stubble on his cheeks, the rivulets of moisture showing silver in the lantern's glow. Tears flooded her eyes, too, and she bit down on her lip to hold back a cry of joy.

“Thank You that He's no longer in the dark,” Daddy continued, “but stands secure in the light o' Your presence. You use all things for our good an' Your glory, so I praise You for this long night o' waitin' that brought about so much eternal good. Amen.”

“Amen,” Devlin echoed.

Devlin and Daddy clasped hands, a silent thank-you passing between them, and Rebekah feared her heart would burst looking upon the two men she loved most in the world celebrating together.

Then Mama said softly, “Do you reckon Tolly's come upon the children yet?”

Devlin released Daddy and took Mama's hand instead. “I'll pray they've been found and are on their way to you now.” He bowed his head.

Mama, Daddy, and Rebekah joined him.

Cissy

Cissy woke to a darkness so black she thought she floated in nothingness. She sucked in a sharp breath, and powdery dust filled her nostrils. She coughed and sat up. Something slid down her body, and then something rustled close by. She shrieked. The sound repeated itself, and she imagined a host of evil spirits swooping around her. Instinctively, she coiled her arms over her head and shrieked again.

“Shut up, Cissy.” Nick's sharp voice cut through the black.

She groped for him and found something soft, empty—his jacket? She let go of it and continued sweeping her hands through the blackness until her fingers encountered his arm. She clung even though he squirmed. “Light the lantern again, Nick, please, please.” It had been sending out a dim but comforting patch of light when they drifted to sleep.