Thrown to the Wolves (The Faith in Peril Trilogy) (13 page)

“Pardon?”

Grasping the rifle, he strode towards me. “We’ll talk by the fire.”

He had been dejected, but now he seemed confident again, which perplexed me to no end. I followed him, walking a few steps behind. I felt far more secure than before with someone stronger among us, and the weapon. The woods weren’t nearly as frightening now. I was immensely grateful for this.

Anna glanced at me with curiosity, as I sat next to her. “Are you getting along?” She grinned mischievously. “I didn’t hear a shot.”

“Shush.”

“Shall I gather more firewood?” Daniel eyed the blaze. “This will do for now, but we need more wood later. The fire will keep the animals at bay.”

“I can help with that.” Jacob had been chewing on a thin stick. “I gotta use the privy anyway.”

“You ladies stay here. We’ll be back shortly.”

“Yes, Daniel,” murmured Anna. When they had gone, she said, “He’s taken charge.”

“Yes.”

“What did he say to you?”

“We argued. He wants to know why I loathe him.”

“Of course he does.”

“This isn’t funny, Anna. You know why I could never seriously consider that man for anything. He’s not a nice person.”

“His behavior that day was not nice. He had one bad day, Rebekah. We all have bad days.”

“But … it showed his character. It exposed a rather nasty side of him I don’t like.”

“Maybe he learned something from what he did. You should speak to him about it. Now’s the perfect opportunity to ask him whatever you wish. There’s a reason we’ve all been thrown together. You don’t think his finding us was an accident, do you?”

“I’m being punished,” I said miserably. “God’s punishing me.”

She giggled, “I doubt that. “You like him.”

Stunned, I glared at her. “Absolutely not!”

“There’s some part of you that likes him. Admit it, Rebekah. Your mind hates him, but your heart’s not immune. You kept those flowers.”

“I threw them out the window.”

“Then you pressed them in a book.”

I gasped. “H-how do you know that?”

She smiled slyly. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

“I hate spies,” I mumbled. “I can’t wait to have my own home, where I’m not watched like a hawk. Human beings need privacy, you know.”

“I just find your reactions interesting. I’ve been watching you my whole life.”

“Well, yes. We’re in the same family. We share a bedroom.”

“That’s true, but, out of everyone, I love you the best. I feel closest to you.”

That warmed my heart. “I love you too, Anna.” My arm went around her neck. “You’re my one and true confidant.”

“I’ll always keep your secrets.”

“I know. I’ll keep yours, but you’re an angel, so you have no secrets.” Her laughter filled my ears.

“It’s not a crime to like someone you want to hate. You’re torn and conflicted, but now’s the time to find out why. You can ask Daniel whatever you wish. He wants to talk to you.”

“Don't you think him terrible for what he’s done? I know you abhor that sort of behavior. Why would you defend him?”

“I don't defend him. I just … think he needs to explain himself. I want to know if he’s learned anything from the past. There are things at play here we don’t know about. You witnessed something disturbing, but we don’t know what happened after. Perhaps, he’s apologized to the injured party.”

“I’ve heard nothing.”

“Nor have I.” Daniel and Jacob returned, their arms full of branches. “Now’s your chance to ask. He’s with us for the night, whether we like it or not.”

Daniel had overheard this; his eyes lingered on me.

“I doubt I’ll feel differently,” I said. “My mind’s made up.” He snapped a long branch over his knee, his look darkening. “But … if he’s so determined, he may speak.”

Chapter Ten

Daniel sat across from us, while Jacob tended to the fire, using branches to move other branches into a more advantageous position. The blaze added light and warmth to our surrounds, while crickets serenaded us from the underbrush. I felt safe tonight … but conflicted. The evening was upon us now, but I did not know what would happen. I would have to discuss the past in front of my siblings.

“Daniel?” I stared at him, wondering why he didn’t speak. “Go on. Tell me about what happened that day at the school yard.”

“What did you see?” He sat with his arms over his knees.

“Everything.”

He grimaced, staring at his hands. “When was that? Eight years ago?”

“Yes. I was ten.”

“That made me thirteen.” After a lengthy pause, I wondered if he would go on. He stared absently into the fire, while it crackled and popped. “I was a child, Rebekah.”

“No. You were mostly grown up.” Everything had been seen through the eyes of a ten-year-old, as that had been my age, but even then I knew right from wrong.

“I know what you’re getting at. It doesn’t excuse my behavior. What happened that day had been building for weeks, months even. I don’t know how it all started, but my friends and I thought it fun to tease Oliver Hostetter. Such a thing wasn’t right or nice, but we were young and wild and we didn’t care.”

Jacob sat near Daniel, keeping an eye on the flames, while listening silently.

“Let’s talk about the Hostetters,” said Daniel. “The family was poor, even by our standards. You look at the clothes you wear now, and, although you’ve torn them, they’re new and finely made. They never wore new clothes or shoes, even going barefoot most of the year. They were singled out and made fun of by not only me, but others. The children in that family were thin and sickly, the mother often bedridden.”

I remembered this, because we had been asked to help whenever the father became ill, cleaning the house and barn and tending to the animals, while he recovered. Mam spoke about how unfortunate their lives were and how they frequently needed help, which they received.

“Why is it the weak are picked on?” mused Daniel. “I spoke with Oliver on occasion, even offering him food, because I felt badly for him, but then … I’d torment him with my friends.” He stared into the fire, his eyes fixed.

“What happened that day?” I asked.

“It was … like any other day, but worse, to be sure. We picked on Oliver most of the morning. I remember he smelled poorly, like feces. I don’t know if he was ill or if his clothing was dirty. We could barely tolerate to sit behind him in school, but then … we vented our resentment after.” He gazed at me. “I want you to know I’ve confessed this to the bishop. I admitted all my wrongdoings before my baptism. It was essential I clear my conscience.”

Anger prickled. “How fortunate for you. You treat someone worse than a barnyard animal, but your mind is free now.”

“Rebekah,” admonished Anna. “This is a matter between Daniel and no one else. We may not like what happened, but if he’s confessed before the Order, than that’s his concern.”

“Fine. I need not hear another word then.”

“But you do, because I want to explain what happened.”

“I know what happened.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t like who you are.”

“You judge me by this one instance, an event I’m deeply ashamed of. I took part in that poor boy’s beating, and I regretted it then, as I regret it now. I’ve had to live with it, with knowing I behaved wrongly.”

Memories flooded. They had been behind the school, while I waited for Anna to speak to the teacher, loitering in boredom. I had heard a cry, and I went to investigate, finding a group of boys shouting. They surrounded Oliver Hostetter, kicking and hitting him, while he bled from the mouth, his eyes wild with fear. Daniel had hoisted him up by his galluses, causing him pain, while several boys took that opportunity to throw their fists at his thin, pale body.

And then he had seen me.

“It was not my proudest moment.”

I remembered screaming at them to stop. The boys turned towards me, laughing, while Oliver struggled and bled, his feet bare and dirty. They had ceased their torment, Daniel releasing him, although he could hardly look at me. He knew what he had done was wrong.

“I remember all that,” I said softly. “I wish I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry for what I did. I was sorry while I was doing it.”

“Yet you did it.”

“Yes. I have no excuse. I’m guilty.”

Jacob asked, “Whatever happened to the Hostetters? They don’t belong to the district anymore, do they?”

“They moved to Canada, I believe,” I said.

“Several years ago,” agreed Daniel. “I’ve heard nothing more.”

“Poor Oliver never had a moment of reprieve,” I said. “Something wasn’t right at home either, because he would come to school with bruises. Then he would be beaten at school.”

“Not everyone is treated well in life. Not everyone has the benefit of a strong, healthy family. My friends and I were like wolves. I, unfortunately, was a bit of a ringleader, instigating most of our adventures.”

“Beating someone senseless is an adventure?”

“No, but the other things we did, racing buggies or smoking tobacco and such. We were rather wild. We’d go to town and listen to music at the saloon. Things of that nature.”

“Well, you’ve told your story.” I shrugged, not feeling as if anything had changed. “Are you happy now?”

He shook his head. “No. You still hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” How many times would I have to say that?

“You don’t like me.”

“I don’t know you.” This argument had not changed, nor would it.

“Will you give me a chance to know you? Maybe if we spoke more often, you’d see me in a different light. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I’ve confessed. I’ve vowed never to be like that again. I’ve never laid a hand on another human being since. I promise you that.”

“What about Oliver? Have you apologized to him?” His downtrodden look told me no. “Just as I suspected. Did you ever think to try to find him? His family’s name is in the directory. You could easily find him.”

“They’ve gone to Canada, Rebekah.”

“Then send a letter.”

He sat back, staring at me, while a pinecone burst in the fire. We said nothing for long minutes, having reached an awkward impasse. Then he spoke. “If I do this, will you talk to me?”

“I’m speaking to you now.”

“But your voice sounds angry. Everything about you is hostile. Your eyes are cold and your posture’s stiff and unyielding. I want to speak to you as a friend, not an enemy.”

“You’re forcing me to be something I’m not. I can’t help the way I feel.”

“The fact that I regret what I did holds little weight with you?”

“You didn’t even remember the incident. You couldn’t even guess why I didn’t like you. You saw me there, staring at you while you beat that poor boy to a pulp, and you couldn’t figure it out. Why else do you think I would loathe you? What other reason could I possibly have?”

“I know. I wanted to forget about the incident and deny it ever happened. I’m … ashamed of what I did, of what we did. I prayed you had forgotten, but I can see you didn’t. That’s the source of your resentment.”

“I forgive you,” said Anna. “You seem entirely remorseful. You’ve confessed to the bishop, and you’ve chosen not to repeat what you’ve done. That’s enough to satisfy me. Although my approval is neither here nor there.” She glanced at me. “Rebekah’s rather stubborn about most things, but you mustn’t think her indifferent.”

What was my sister getting at? “That’s enough, Anna,” I warned.

“You gave her flowers, and she kept them.”

I sprang to my feet. “Shush! We needn’t discuss this.”

“Then she pressed them in a book for safekeeping.”

“Quit!” This was mortifying! I wanted to throttle her.

“Now she’ll never speak to me again.” Anna grinned ruefully. “I’m in trouble now.”

“If I kept the stupid flowers, it’s because I thought them pretty. That has nothing to do with the person who gave them to me. They’re of no sentimental value. None.” I sat again, but I fumed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Daniel appeared thoughtful, his face reflecting the glow of the fire. “I’m glad you liked them.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, angry with everyone except Jacob. Still reeling from Anna’s betrayal, I had nothing to say.

“Girls are odd creatures,” said Jacob. “I don’t understand ‘em.”

“Me either,” murmured Daniel.

“Let’s say our prayers and go to bed,” I said, wanting to end the discussion. “We need to wake early so we can go home. I just want to go home.” I untied my apron, intending to use it as a pillow, although it was hardly sufficient.

“I’ll start the prayers, if you wish,” offered Anna.

“No, I want to,” said Daniel. “Please allow me. Would you?”

I rolled my eyes, but I had turned from everyone, so they had not seen me. “If you must,” was my terse reply.
His words will be the last ringing through my ears before sleep. Oh, the injustice!

We knelt before the fire, pressing our hands together before us.

Daniel reached into his knapsack, retrieving a Bible. He seemed to know which passage he wanted to read, glancing at me briefly before beginning.

“‘But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire. Matthew 5:22.’”

Daniel left the book on the ground, getting to his feet. Stunned, I wasn’t sure what he meant to do, but he strode towards Anna and I, coming to kneel before me. “I’ll do what you ask. I’ll find Oliver and write him a letter. You won’t believe me, but I’ve thought of this over the years. I’m a coward for not trying to contact him before.”

I gazed into his eyes, not knowing what to say, as we were supposed to be praying. “If it’ll bring you peace, then do it.”

His expression fell, because that had not been what he wanted to hear. He got to his feet, stalking towards Jacob. “Where was I?” He flipped the pages, his mouth set in a grim line. “Ah, this one: ‘Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.’”