“I’d like to hear about him sometime.”
“Good afternoon!” Edwards hollered out, both hands extended above his head. “Good afternoon! Pray with me…”
And with that greeting Edwards proceeded to accuse and berate every person in the small gathering.
“Straight is the gate, and narrow is the way that leads to life. There are those among us who are outlawed from gathering in this new land. And let me just say that that is just and righteous, because my friend, because God told us right here: narrow is the way that leads to life…” Zeke scanned the crowd. Closed faces looked up at the man on the wagon.
Beti’s face paled as Edwards continued his rant. Zeke forced himself to stay put until the man was finished. Nothing would be gained if he stepped up to punch the preacher. Alice Swift and her brother, whom this tirade was clearly directed at, glanced at each other. The man stiffened much as Zeke had. His sister stayed her brother with a gentle hand. Zeke would like to hear what they would have to say about this obvious attack on their faith.
Of course it was true that the way was narrow to heaven. Everybody knew that one must come to the Lord Jesus for that. It was clear in the epistle to Romans. But one could get to confessing the Lord from more than one road as far as he was concerned. If a man came to confess Jesus as the Messiah promised by God in the Old Testament then what difference did it make if the message came from the Church of England or dissenters like the Baptists or the Quakers?
And what out of all that could be upsetting Beti? She walked the narrowest road he’d seen lately, even if it was with her sheep. He couldn’t help but flame at the thought of her clinging to him after the incident in the woods.
After a couple of robustly sung hymns, the little gathering broke into small clumps clearly discussing what they’d heard.
“I almost feel as though an apology is in order.” Beti placed a hand on Alice’s arm.
Alice laughed. “What for? The man clearly illustrated the passage he quoted from ‘Ye will know them by their fruits’…I don’t say that the man is a false prophet, but I do think he’s cultivating a fine crop of sour grapes.”
Mose let out a hoot. Zeke had to admit that there was more to Alice Swift than he’d originally thought. But he moved closer to Beti. He’d not misread her brother’s interest.
The boy whipped off his tri-corn to crush it between large hands. “Miss Beti, I wondered if ye’d like to have supper with me and my sister.”
Color rose to Beti’s cheeks. Zeke looked forward to sitting on his stool next to her while he ate his supper, and he had no mind to change things even for one night.
“I was going to offer to share my fire with ye both this evening.” Beti answered. “I have to cook for Toby anyway, and there be plenty for us all.”
The siblings shared a look. “We would be pleased to share yer fire,” Alice said with a smile.
Beti took a step closer to Zeke, the rosy glow once more gracing her cheeks. “Ye are most welcome as well, Mr. Smith.”
Eleven
Isaac tucked into his roll and faced the stars. That Edwards was the worst preacher he’d ever heard. While he knew he wasn’t deserving of the forgiveness offered by God through the sacrifice of His Son, he knew what the offer was. Whosoever will may come, and the Lord would dwell with that whosoever. Isaac’s life was too polluted to allow the Most High anywhere near his life. But the people under his care? Now they were a different story. There was nothing among them that should cause Edwards to blister them with his sermon.
Edward’s niece, now there was a different story. He couldn’t make her out. Since Edwards’ insistence of first place in the wagon train, Isaac saw and heard him plenty, but Charity kept to herself serving her uncle without argument. She had opinions, that was clear by her statement about Miss Beti, which wasn’t too kind considering she was a preacher’s niece, which was almost as good as a daughter. Isaac rolled over pulling his blanket over his shoulder. It didn’t matter anyway. The further he stayed away from the Edwards the better it would be for all of them.
It started with a gentle sprinkle that drizzled all morning. Moses again brought the directive that they would stay put for another day. Beti couldn’t be sorry. The slow down felt good on the feet, and she was sure Silas and the ewes would benefit from another stop as well. Anything she could do to preserve their coats would pay off after she’d gotten to Kentucky.
By nine, she had straightened out her belongings in the back of the wagon. She sat on a barrel of flour contemplating her backstop heddle. Her mother’s lilting voice as she told the story of how her father had carved the tool while at sea to give to his bride. Hearts entwined with vines and leaves surrounded a tiny sailing ship delicately carved into the surface. The slats and holes for the warp looked more like a garden gate than a tool for weaving.
She’d a mind to make tapes that reflected the glows of the campfires in a string. For the weft she chose a burnt pumpkin color leftover from cloth she’d woven for Rosalee last fall. For the warp she selected a blue gray reminiscent of the sea and a misty green that reminded her of the foggy mornings she’d walked with Nellie and the sheep through the trees.
The amiable sound of water landing in the mud and dripping from leaves lent coziness to her temporary home. Though she knew the ducking would eventually begin to leak, she pushed those thoughts away. Contentment soothed her spirit, and her hands laid the warp and threaded her heddle. What did it matter that some would reject her in her new home? The world had rejected their Lord. Beti Boatman was nothing compared with Him.
She’d just finished warping when she heard a small knock on the transom. Aggie poked her head under the duck covering.
“The Captain has arranged for a parlor in the ordinary. It is bound to be better than huddling until the rain stops.” She grinned and left as quickly as she came.
Beti couldn’t contain her smile. It would indeed be pleasant to sit by a fire with the luxury of standing up when she chose despite the rain. She offered a prayer of thanks before placing her weaving in a basket. If she went quickly, she could keep it dry.
Donning her cloak without tumbling anything over, she rested her rifle on the closest barrel and pulled back the drape to find Toby.
“Allow me, Miss Beti.”
Astonished she allowed him to lift her down from the transom.
“Is everything well?”
“Yes, ma’am. But seeing as ye all will be spending the day in an ordinary I thought to accompany ye.”
Her surprise must have registered on her face, though she was polite enough not to let her jaw drop into her basket.
“Ordinaries are not, well, they are just not always the place for gentle people, Miss Beti.”
A draft of fear stabbed her good mood. She repositioned the rifle hanging across her shoulders. “Have ye heard anything in particular?”
“Oh, no ma’am. It’s just that, well, they can be rough places.”
Tenderness welled up at the kindness of the man. He offered his arm, and Beti took it if for nothing else than to keep her shoes on in the mud pudding between them and the door. She would have preferred Zeke’s arm, but a quick glance showed him not to be around. The contentment she’d felt thinned until it was gone. This was a busy road, a public tavern. She’d have to keep watch.
“How fairs Silas?” she asked.
“Happy enough. They have huddled themselves in the back corner of the yard.”
