River of Mercy (9 page)

The week had been uncommonly warm for November—so warm he'd cracked the kitchen window while having his supper. Later, as he frequently did when he was alone and finished with the nightly chores, he took out his fiddle, sat down by the window, and played awhile.

Even though he was given to fits of melancholy when he played—usually when he was thinking of Rachel or brooding over his earlier years in Ireland—he seemed to need the music. Ever since he was a boy, something inside him had groaned for release, an escape that he could never quite identify and that had remained undiscovered until he learned to coax music from an old fiddle. From then on, the music became a kind of healing balm to his spirit.

The more he was alone, the more often he played. Cheerless, even mournful melodies. A lament. Sometimes a love song.

He knew few tunes other than those from home, from the past. The Irish seemed to own a special fondness for gloomy airs. Occasionally a brighter mood spurred him to some foolish little ditty, but this week his frame of mind had been anything but sunny. Besides, the cheerful tunes kept Mac awake. His canine companion preferred the more subtle melodies as he dozed behind the stove.

Halfway through O'Carolan's “Blind Mary,” Gant stopped to tighten a string. A screech pierced the night, causing him to jerk and Mac to pull himself up with a growl. Gant recognized the bobcat's cry and gauged it to be surprisingly close. Obviously, the cat had again wandered down from the hill quite a ways, even farther than before. He had to be close to the house, as close as the woodshed.

Another cry sounded, almost like an angry protest. Again Mac growled but only halfheartedly. As on previous nights, the moment Gant hushed him, the dog settled.

To Gant, that seemed even odder than the bobcat's visits. The big dog was almost always on alert. Asa swore the hound slept with one eye open. It was as if Mac tolerated the cat's presence because he sensed no threat.

Gant took up “Blind Mary” again. And just as he expected, silence fell. He went on playing for a few minutes before coming to a halt. When he heard the cat again, his throat tightened. The sound was closer now, a deep rumbling, almost like a heightened purr. The rumble grew louder as Gant played, but each time he stopped, the cat made a sound of protest. When he began to play again, the peculiar purr rumbled on.

It had been like this every night. When Gant played, the bobcat wandered in close to the house with his eerie purr. When Gant silenced the fiddle, the cat challenged him with a low hissing sound or even a screech.

Although sorely tempted, Gant never gave in to the urge to look outside. He wasn't altogether certain whether he resisted because the sight of the cat so close in would spook him or because the sight of him might spook the cat and keep it from returning. For some unfathomable reason, he wanted the odd creature to keep coming back.

In any case, he stayed out of view.

He played for a long time while Mac slept and the cat apparently listened. Later, long after he'd gone to bed, he couldn't sleep but kept thinking about the bobcat's curious behavior. He wondered where the animal went at night when it wasn't attending Gant's serenade.

They were nocturnal, of course, these cats who lived in the wild. They roamed, sometimes for miles. He wasn't sure, but he thought it must be unusual for them to show any kind of homing instinct. If they had young nearby, the males more often than not abandoned them and their mates to roam at will.

Yet for some reason this nightly visitor seemed to have made itself at home, at least for the present, in the woods on the hill.

If bobcats could think, Gant wouldn't mind a glimpse into what was rattling about in the big fella's head.

Gant managed a couple hours of sleep before getting up at two to help Fred Scott move the runaways out of the barn and onto the wagon, which he'd stocked earlier that night. Word had come down the line for a conductor to transport Nate and his family out of Riverhaven as far as Summerfield, where Asa would take over.

He needn't have worried about keeping the three of them quiet as they prepared to leave. Nate had already instilled in his wife and son the absolute necessity of making no noise whatsoever as they boarded the wagon and lavished their thanks in hushed voices.

After waving off their appreciation and hurrying them on their way, Gant led Mac back to the house, thoroughly scanning their surroundings before going inside and locking the door. Then, as he always did, he said a prayer for the safety of the folks who had just set out on what might well be the most dangerous journey of their lives.

For a short time, he stood looking out the window into the darkness-draped night. Finally he decided to go back to bed for a while. The day had been long, and his bad leg had begun to ache.

He stared out the window another moment before following Mac to the bedroom. Perhaps it was nothing more than simple fatigue. On the other hand, it might have been the relief of being freed from the responsibility for another family of fugitive slaves. In any case, he quickly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep for the first time in several days.

8

Unease comes not only from the outside.

ANONYMOUS

S
usan, you've fretted yourself all week about this. It's only supper, for goodness' sake! Why don't you simply go along now and ask her to come this evening?”

David Sebastian was trying hard not to lose patience with his wife's indecisiveness. “Rachel will say either yes or no, and that will be that. Why are you having such a difficult time with this?”

From her place at the kitchen sink, Susan shot him an exasperated look. “Because I don't want Rachel to misunderstand and think I'm trying to throw them together. And more to the point, I don't want Captain Gant to think it! They're not supposed to be seeing each other at all.”

“They're not supposed to see each other
alone,”
David pointed out. “It's acceptable for them to be friends on a casual basis.”

Susan shot him a sharp look. “There is absolutely nothing casual about the feelings those two have for each other, and you know it! So it's really not acceptable.”

With a deep sigh, David took one last sip of coffee and set his cup down on the table. “But having supper with us and Fannie wouldn't exactly be a clandestine meeting, now would it?” he said, his tone dry. “I believe it could be considered quite harmless.”

She uttered a low sound of impatience. “You just want them to be together.”

“Don't you?”

“Only if it's right! I know you and Captain Gant are good friends, and I like him a lot too, but he's still an
Englischer,
and the bishop warned them they're not to be together.”

“The bishop didn't forbid them to be friends.”

“David, I don't see how they can ever be just friends.”

His wife's woebegone expression went right to his heart. She wanted only the best for her children, and Rachel had already suffered a great deal of pain with the loss of her young husband and later her good friend Phoebe Esch. It was only natural that Susan would want to spare her daughter any more hurt if it were within her power to do so.

He got up and went to her, taking her in his arms. “You can't protect her from everything, you know. Rachel is a woman grown. You have to let her make her own decisions.”

She looked up at him. “But, David, I know she still cares for Captain Gant. I see it in her eyes every time she looks at him. Surely being with him only makes it harder for her.”

David took his time answering. “Perhaps it does,” he said carefully. “But Rachel has the right to decide that for herself. And besides,” he went on, “it's not for us to know whether God means to keep them apart forever. That could change.”

“You're thinking that whoever becomes the new bishop might give in and let Captain Gant convert after all.”

“It's a possibility.”

Her shoulders sagged a little. “I try not to think about it one way or the other.”

He tilted her chin to make her look at him. “But we can pray about it, can't we? Pray for God's will for both of them?”

He saw her hesitation before she nodded.
“Ja,
we can pray for them. And I do. You know I do. But I tell you, David, I try my best not to wish for something that might never come about.”

He searched her eyes. “You're a good mother, Susan. A good mother and a good woman.”

A light stain blotted her cheeks, and she glanced away. “Don't say that, David. No one is good except the Lord God.”

He put a finger to her lips. “I say what I see, Susan Sebastian,” he said, giving her a playful push as he released her. “Now go along and ask Rachel to supper. I can't be idling about in your kitchen and drinking coffee all morning. I have work to do.”

She still looked indecisive. “I should have asked them for dinner. It seems strange to be having our main meal in the evening instead of earlier.”

“Yes, I've grown used to an earlier meal too, and I rather like it now. But we decided that this would be best. Gant has a business to run, and with Asa still gone, it's awkward for him to leave the shop in the middle of the day.”

“Gideon would lock up for him.”

“No doubt he would. But Gant mentioned only recently that he's had more business than both he and Gideon can handle together. I think it's good of you to accommodate him. I'm sure he appreciates it.”

“I wish Gideon would come too.” Her mouth tightened. “I suppose he's still seeing that
Englisch
girl, and that's why he said he had other plans.”

“As it happens,” David said mildly, “it seems he's not seeing her at all anymore.”

“Really? And just how would you know that?”

David shrugged. “Gant mentioned it. From what he's observed, Gideon has been trying to run into the Knepp girl as often as possible.”

“Really?” she said again, her eyes widening. “Emma?”

Amused by her pleased expression, David worked to stop a smile. “I don't recall the girl's first name. But I know she's Levi Knepp's daughter.”

Susan gave a satisfied nod. “That would be Emma. Oh, I'm so happy to hear Gideon might be interested in her! I hope Captain Gant is right.”