“Scare it away.” Daniel’s voice was firm, and it was evident he felt the need to protect his family.
“Nay. A cougar is dangerous. It will go on its way.”
“What about the horse and cow?”
In this mild weather, the two stayed in the corral even overnight. Keturah frowned. If the large cat was looking to mate, she was not likely concerned with hunting. But could they take that risk?
A squeal sounded outside. Cinnamon.
Keturah whirled around as Daniel stalked out onto the porch and down the front steps.Please, Lord, protect him.She rushed toward the door and peered out into the black of night. Daniel raised the gun in the air and shot. Twice more, he reloaded and shot.
Off to their right, a blur moved away, into the night, and Keturah’s mouth dropped open. The cougar hadbeen right there, on their homestead. And Daniel had shown not a moment’s hesitation in protecting their growing family.
As he stepped back up onto the porch, she went to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing into him and his strength. How could she ever have been skeptical of this man who had only his family’s best interest at heart? She needed to stop doubting, stop relying so much on her own strength, and lean into both him and the Lord. With God’s help, that’s what she would do from now on.
CHAPTER 12
September 8, 1782
Daniel placed another log atop the stump and swung his ax, relishing the satisfying crack that came as metal collided with wood and the log split apart. His arms ached, and his shirt was wet with perspiration, but it was beyond fulfilling to provide for one’s family.
Family. The thought brought a smile to his face as he placed another log atop the stump. He could not wait for the day they became a family, when he and Keturah would be joined in this world by their little one. He brought the ax down again as he tried to imagine the baby. Would it be a little boy with dark hair and eyes or a baby girl with locks the color of warm flames and eyes the color of spring? Or maybe the babe would resemble both him and Keturah? No matterwhat, the child would feel the love he never had. This child would be cherished by both his parents.
A frisson of fear cut through Daniel’s heart. What if childbirth claimed his wife as it had his mother? The question had plagued him since Keturah had shared her joyous news. But as he always did when the fear crept in, he whispered a prayer to the Lord that He would bring her safely through delivery.
Daniel lifted his gaze to where Keturah was placing clothes on the line after doing the washing. Yet did not see her. His brow lowered, but his wife was quite capable of caring for herself. She’d likely stopped for a quick rest or a drink of water. He resumed his chopping, lifting another log and splitting it.
A wail stopped him mid-swing and stole the breath from his lungs. His eyes snapped to where more cries came from the outhouse, and his heart plummeted. After dropping the ax, he ran for his wife. Something was terribly wrong.
If it were not for Daniel’s strong arm around her waist, Keturah would not have been able to stand. But he half ushered her and half carried her as her feet failed to cooperate. Her entire body was numb, and she moved in a daze. Somehow, they made it through the doorway and to the bed. Thankful for the dim lighting of the cabin, Keturah curled into the fetalposition and squeezed her eyes shut, as though she could shut out the pain.
But there was no denying the truth. Their baby was gone. The sight of the blood flashed in her mind again, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in a wail. It had taken some time of Daniel holding her and comforting her to stop the cries to begin with. Her heart had been ripped into a million pieces.
Daniel laid the quilt over her, and she gripped tightly to the edge, pulling it up under her chin. Keturah squeezed her eyes tighter still and balled herself further. She could do nothing else. She was trapped within her circumstances. From this moment, she could only wait for the nightmare to pass. Only, it never would. She would never be able to forget that terrible moment in the outhouse. And never would the pain of losing her child end. Keturah nestled into the pillow, numbness consuming her with a ferocity she had never known.
How could this be God’s plan?
September 11, 1782
The gentle weight of Daniel’s hand came to rest on Keturah’s shoulder, but she did not open her eyes. “Keturah.” His soft voice beckoned her to wake. But she did not wish to. She held nodesire to re-enter the world of the living. Or to partake of the strange-smelling soup that he offered. “Keturah, my love, you need to eat.”
Nay, she did not need to eat. She did not need anything except for the one thing that had been taken from her. And there was nothing that could bring it back. Not even the Lord. The Lord had abandoned her. He must have. How could He allow this to happen when He was all powerful? Tears leaked from her eyes again as she squeezed her lashes shut tighter.
“Oh, darling.” Daniel set the bowl beside the bed before he swept her up into his arms to rock her while she cried into his chest.
The man had proved himself to be just this side of sainthood over the past few days. In fact, she knew not how many days had passed. Daniel had been a constant companion, continually attempting to care for her, pressing her to keep on living. But Keturah could not bring herself to leave the bed, much less return the love that he so generously gave. All she wanted to do was sleep. For that was the only time she did not have to face the agony.
But as with every time Daniel came to check on her or offer her sustenance, she was awake now. And the pain ripped through her afresh. The heart-wrenching reminder that it was only the two of them. That their bairn would never arrive and make them a family of three. Despite all she had been through…this…this was something she simply could not bear. So the tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks, and her body shook with her sobs as she cried into her husband’s sturdy chest. His shirt would soon be soaked, but she could not bring herself to care. She could only pray that the sweet oblivion of sleep would claim her soon.
September 19, 1782
Daniel turned and peered into the black night outside their cabin one more time before he shut the door behind him and put the bar down. On this moonless night, the world seemed to reflect the hopelessness that filled both his own soul and the cabin. He glanced toward the bed where Keturah slept. And though his stomach grumbled, he wondered if he should even prepare anything for supper. What good would it do? Keturah would not eat, and frankly, he did not feel like going through the motions.
He moved into the rocker beside the hearth and settled in with Scamper stretched out on the floor beside him. Daniel opened his Bible and attempted to read, but the words seemed to blur before his eyes. These days, as he walked through the world in a haze with his wife bed-ridden, it seemed the Lord was far away. The old hopelessness that gripped him some nights on the trail, when he had not even Nanny to provide comfort and care,had returned.
He was all alone.
There was not a person in the world to love and care for him in his time of need. Whatever affection had grown between him and his wife seemed to be shattered. For her grief was so strong, she was incapable of returning his love. Daniel could not blame her, not in the least. But it did not leave him any less lonely.
