Authors: Aaron McCarver
Tags: #FIC042030, #FIC042000, #FIC026000
The Spirit of Appalachia, Book 2
Beyond the Quiet Hills
Gilbert Morris and Aaron McCarver
Â© 1997 by Gilbert Morris and Aaron McCarver
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâfor example, electronic, photocopying, recordingâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Cover by Dan Thornberg
This book is dedicated with deep affection to two of the best friends anyone could have, my sisters, Marilyn Slatton and Ginger Bradford.
To Marilyn, thank you for always being there for me and encouraging me to strive for the best in every area of my life. You always made sure I had everything I needed, from money for school to a hair-combing to a special hug. Your example of how God brought you through difficult times to shining for Him will always be an inspiration to me.
To Ginger, thank you for your complete and total acceptance. Your steadiness in every part of your life, from spiritual to personal, is something I have tried to add to my life. Thank you for sharing your love of reading by giving me my first “grown-up” book. The other gifts that first book led to are immeasurable.
You both make me so proud! You have homes that are Christ-centered, and you put your families ahead of the things of this world. Thanks for the wonderful Christian examples!
I once heard it said that God made big sisters to take care of their younger siblings. Well, God certainly knew how much care I would need because He gave me the two best sisters ever!!! Thank you both for always watching out for me, for listening every time I have a problem, and for supporting me. But most especially, thank you for just loving me.
I love you both with all my heart!
They came over the Misty Mountains to forge new lives on the Appalachian frontier. They brought their hopes and plans to a land of freedom and opportunity. But they find they must deal with the past before they can build the future of their dreamsÂ .Â .Â .
Beyond the Quiet Hills
Jehoshaphat “Hawk” Spencer
âHe came west to escape a painful past and carved out a new life on the frontier. He must now use his newfound faith to face the past or see the life he has built destroyed.
Elizabeth MacNeal Spencer
âAfter losing her first husband, Patrick, God has given her another love. She must now use her strong faith in God to bring two families together and make them one.
âAbandoned by his father after his mother died giving him life, he has been raised by loving grandparents. When his father comes back to Williamsburg to claim him, Jacob must deal with all the bitterness and anger he has harbored in his heart for a man who claims to be changed by God.
âThe death of his father brought his world crashing down, but a man of the frontier has restored his dreams. Now a jealous stepbrother tests his patience and his faith when both fall in love with the same girl.
âA lovely young woman of the frontier whose future is set with a childhood friend. Then his handsome stepbrother comes into her life and challenges all she holds dear, including her faith in God.
âAbused by her father, she longs for acceptance and love. But the one her heart secretly desires loves another.
âTorn between two worlds, this Cherokee chief may be the only one who can save the frontier settlement and help the troubled son of his best friend.
âHe vowed to get even with Hawk for interfering with his family, but his wife's resilient faith in God halted his desire for revenge. Then he yields to old temptations and sets in motion events that could destroy them all.
November 1771-December 1771
The young lions do lack, and suffer hunger: but they that seek the Lord shall not want any good thing.
Bride and Groom
As Elizabeth MacNeal stepped outside the small cabin, she took one startled look at the glistening black bear standing not ten feet away and froze in her tracks.
Hawk had warned her that the bears around Watauga were prone to wander close to the settlement, but she had only seen them at a distance since coming to the Appalachian Mountains. Now her heart leaped up into her throat at the enormous size of the bear. Suddenly he reared, his beady black eyes meeting hers. His coat was sleek and he was fat; thus she knew that most of his kind had already retreated into caves for the winter. A shiver of fear ran through her at the sight of the long claws and sharp white teeth as he slightly opened his mouth.
For a moment she could not think and had a sudden impulse to whirl and dash back into the cabin, but then she remembered what Hawk had told her.
The black bears around here aren't dangerous. Most of them are shy. All you have to do is clap your hands and shout at them and they'll turn tail
Abruptly Elizabeth swung the bucket she carried in her right hand, throwing it toward the bear and crying out loudly, “Shoo! Get out of here, you old bear!” Although the bucket missed, to her delight the bear uttered a startled
, dropped to all fours, and scurried frantically away. As he disappeared into the timber among the scrub trees that lined the eastern border of their farm, Elizabeth clapped her hands together and smiled. “Now, that'll be something to tell Andy and Sarah!” she exclaimed.
Strolling across the open space, she bent down and picked up the bucket as she stared at the large bear tracks. She had wanted trees and grass close to the cabin, but Sequatchie, her Indian friend, had warned her, “That's for town people. Out here you don't need to leave any way for the enemy to creep up on youâand besides, when a forest fire comes you'll be glad of the open space.”
Elizabeth strode purposefully along the worn path leading down to the creek that wound its way around the tall growth of walnut trees. She was not a tall woman, but very erect with a fully developed upper body and a tiny waist. Her thick blond hair bounced on the back of her neck, and as the morning sun struck it, brown highlights glinted as she swept it back over her shoulders from time to time. She had green eyes and a broad, well-shaped mouth. Her naturally fair complexion had been darkened by the sun so that now she had a rich golden tan, except for a few freckles, almost invisible, that speckled her nose. At the age of thirty-four Elizabeth was a beautiful and robust woman with a soft depth and a strong spirit. Those who knew her well admired the great vitality and keen imagination that lay beneath her calm exterior. Her firm lips and a determination in her eyes expressed the strong will and the deep pride that ran in her. As she moved along the path toward the creek, she exuded an air of serenity and happiness.
She threaded her way through a small clump of fledgling walnut saplings that were held in a crook of the creek's arm, until she came to the edge of the water. Stooping down, she reached forward with one hand and scooped up some of the clear water and tasted it.
“Better than Boston water,” she murmured. As she stooped there beside the creek she thought how different her life was now that she had crossed the Misty Mountains, the Appalachians, and made her way into the uncharted wilderness of timber and streams and mountains. Lifting her eyes as though she could see the city she once called home, she thought about the greater change that was soon coming into her life.
Thoughtfully she held the bucket with both hands, then lowered it until the cold water filled it almost to the brim. Straightening up, she put it down on a patch of dead brown grass and stood for a moment, her clear eyes thoughtful and meditative.
“I'll have a new husband today!”
She whispered the thought aloud and then glanced around self-consciously, laughing slightly at herself. “I might as well talk out loud,” she said, looking up at a woodpecker that was drumming industriously, seeking larvae in a towering chestnut tree. She watched as the bird extracted something and flew off. Her eyes followed him until he came to a hole in the top of a dead tree and disappeared. “I wonder if you've got some babies in there,” Elizabeth said. She did not know when she had picked up the habit of talking to herself, but it had been since she had left Boston and spent long hours alone in the village of Watauga.
Finally she picked up the bucket, thinking suddenly of her first husband, Patrick. The memory of his face leaped into her mind, and her lips curved tenderly as she thought of him. When he had first been killed in an Indian raid on their journey west, she had thought sorrow would be her portion for the rest of her life. Slowly she had learned that God can even take away the sharp, bitter edge of grief. Now as she strolled along through the tall trees that stretched their arms up to heaven as if in prayer, she was suddenly grateful that she had Andrew and Sarah. Their looks and actions reflected so much of their father that he would never be forgotten, not as long as they were there.
A thought occurred to her and she put the bucket down and left the path, crossing rapidly into the thick canopy of trees. She reached a dying ironwood tree and put her ear to the slick surface. A pleased expression crossed her face when she heard the humming inside, and she whispered, “Honey in there! You just wait! I'll have Sequatchie get me some of that. Then we'll see some honey cakes!”