Beyond the Quiet Hills by Aaron McCarver

Author:Aaron McCarver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042000, FIC026000
ISBN: 9781441262332
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group

Chapter Seventeen

Bread Rounds

The winter of 1772 to 1773 had been mild. Spring had come now with all of its softness and gentleness, erasing from the memory of the settlers the light snows and the one hard freeze. As always, the spring seemed to bring a new time of hope, and a spirit of expectation had come to the dwellers at Watauga.

The Spencer cabin was now enlarged. Hawk had added another full-sized room, joining it by a walkway through the middle of the two structures. Since the dogs slept in it, it was called the dog trot, and oftentimes at night the sleepers inside would awaken to hear the dogs’ claws scratching on the board floor between the two rooms. It had a loft, the same as the first structure, so that now Andrew and Jacob shared it, while Sarah had the old room over the original structure.

Paul and Rhoda Anderson had come for supper on Friday night. They had just returned a week earlier after spending all winter preaching the gospel among the Cherokee. Rhoda was holding the eight-month-old Hannah Faith in her arms and cooing down at her.

“She’s got her mother’s green eyes,” she said, smiling up at Elizabeth. “And look, her hair’s the color of honey.” Elizabeth, who had just taken a pie out of the Dutch oven before the fireplace, smiled. She was content now. The baby was healthy and already filling the cabin with her meaningless sounds that she thought was talk.

Across the room Paul and Sequatchie were speaking with Hawk. It was Sequatchie who said, “Some of the Cherokee are still not happy about the leasing of their lands.”

“Been peaceful enough.”

“Yes, but some of the younger warriors don’t want it that way, Hawk,” Paul said. His eyes now on Rhoda, he thought, I wish Rhoda and I could have a baby. It’s done so much for Elizabeth.

Hawk did not miss the wistful look in his friend’s eyes, but he said nothing of it. “We’ll talk to the leaders of the community and see what can be done.”

The men sat there talking until the meal was set on the table. They plunged into the fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, sweet potatoes with sliced apples on top, and early peas from the garden, and afterward when Rhoda and Elizabeth were cleaning up, Elizabeth asked, “Tell me more about your trip. Were the Indians receptive to the gospel?”

“Oh yes. Some of them were. It’s hard to tell,” Rhoda said. “They come and they sit. Some of them like the singing, but their way of life is so different from ours.” She was putting mugs back on pegs in the cabinet and said, “I’m still having a hard time, Elizabeth.”

“You mean about being a preacher’s wife?”

“Yes. I still don’t feel worthy.”

“Have you talked to Paul about it?”

Rhoda turned and said with exasperation, “I’ve tried, but he thinks I’m wonderful!”

“Well, that must be awful, having to listen to that kind of talk all the time.”

Rhoda caught the grin on Elizabeth’s face and could not stop the smile that came to her own lips.

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