With This Peace by Karen Campbell Prough

Author:Karen Campbell Prough [Prough, Karen Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Firefly Southern Fiction
Published: 2017-02-28T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Monday, November 15, 1847

The children went down for a nap after playing in the sunlight on the warm side of the cabin. The month of November brought more touches of fall. Dead leaves drifted to the ground, but only a few maples had splendid colors of mountain foliage.

Ella finished washing clothes, and Luke helped her empty the large kettle.

“I miss my husband.”

“Cherish his memory, but release yourself from grief. Show your children what happiness can be.” He voiced a gentle warning.

She felt her throat constrict. “Release my feelin’s for him?”

“No. Just don’t let yourself keep recalling the pain of his passing. Look ahead.”

“I cain’t help it,” she whispered.

“Anger will become the pain.”

“What?”

“You’ll become angry at him for dying.”

“I don’t …” She paused, not knowing how to answer him, but she knew he was right. She felt resentment toward Jim for agreeing to follow Duncan.

Luke changed the subject. “I saw what resembled wolf tracks this morning. Better keep the young ones close.” He tugged at the shirt sticking to his back and made a face.

Ella had cut up a couple of Jim’s shirts and added a piece down the middle of the back—to make them bigger—so they’d fit Luke’s heftier build and deep chest. She figured he didn’t find the homespun material comfortable. But she asked him to wear a shirt when he was in her presence and around the children.

Although, she admitted to herself, she could understand the comfort of going without a shirt. Even the November days were sometimes warm.

“Luke, the cow was restless last night. I saw two ’coons in the trough, when I took the lantern out to check. But I didn’t hear wolves howlin’.”

“Don’t go out after dark.” Luke ran a hand up the side of his jaw. A fine shadow, deeper than his skin tone, showed where his close-clipped beard had been. Sometime during the night, he had managed to shave it off. “I’m planning to clear the brush out of the sinkhole—burn it out. I’m thinking, once it’s clear, I might dig the center and see what happens. Water seems to flow in, even without rain. It stays filled at the bottom.”

“Natural flow or somethin’?” Ella was used to springs and seeps in the mountains. “It’s what our springhouse sat on. Coldest water you could git. Made my teeth ache. It went on through the ravine to form a large creek runnin’ clear off the side of our knob. Sprayed over the edge, like a falls.” She stopped talking and chewed at her bottom lip, feeling homesick.

They walked to the steps. He lingered. “I’m going to make some palmetto leaf mats for the cabin floor—to cover the gaps.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“I’ll take the wagon for more water and try fishing. Should be back before sunset.”

“We enjoyed the last six you caught.” She clasped her hands at her waist, wanting to voice her feelings, but feared he’d take it wrong. “Luke, it’s been an answer to prayer to have you here. I’m hopin’ you know you’re … a true friend.

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