Firebrand by Aaron Barnhart

Author:Aaron Barnhart [Barnhart, Aaron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quindaro Press
Published: 2015-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

12

The Old Man

It was night when August heard a horse gallop into the clearing. He took his rifle and went outside. Jason Brown called to him:

“The Old Man’s here! He’s over at the farm now. Come quickly, he wants to see you.”

August saddled his horse and rode after Jason. A strange sensation coursed through his body all the way over to the Brown claim.

In a few minutes they reached the cabin. It looked like it was dark inside. On closer examination, August could see a thin line of light streaming from the window.

“Here, this way,” Jason said, and the two men walked through the darkness.

Inside the cabin a candle burned on a rough wooden table. August noticed pieces of a shop sack covering the window. The small room was filled with people. He recognized Owen and Oliver, but there were others he did not know.

“This is my brother Fred,” said Jason. August felt his hand clasped in a powerful grip and looked into the face of another fair-haired giant. There was no mistaking the Browns. “And Watson … and Salmon …”

Young John, sitting astride a bench, nodded to August. At the far end of the room August saw the Old Man.

He was tall, as August had expected. He was lean, his face was haggard, his cheekbones sharp and tight against his weathered skin. August could not guess his age. The Old Man might have been fifty or a hundred and fifty. His hair, which must have been blond in his youth, hung toward his shoulders. His beard was long and white, windblown and matted. His hands had veins like knotted ropes. There was a slight stoop to his shoulders.

But the sharp blue eyes made him different from anyone August had ever met. The blue eyes turned to him. They seemed to penetrate his very being, until August felt that the Old Man had seen to the bottom of his heart. John Brown’s voice was strong and vigorous. It held August as firmly as if he had gripped him in his knotted hands.

“My sons have spoken about you, Bondi,” the Old Man said. “They tell me you are a brave man. Is that so?”

Had anyone else asked that question, August would have found a ready answer. But the Old Man seemed to be asking a question that went beyond physical bravery. He was asking about something much deeper. August lowered his eyes.

“I intend to fight for what I believe,” he said.

“You’ll have the opportunity,” John Brown said. “I need brave men with me. A few brave men are worth an army, with God’s help.” His voice turned soft. “Do you know the Holy Scriptures?”

August nodded.

“‘Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him,’” the Old Man recited from memory. “And Kansas is only the beginning, Bondi.”

Looking at the bearded face before him, August saw the blue eyes widen and flash.

“If there is war here,” the Old Man said, his voice rising with every word, “there will be greater wars in other places.

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