American Dream Page 16

“Where are you going?” she gasped. “Father told you to stay off the Mayflower. And if you try to follow the hunting party again, you’ll end up in trouble just like last time. If you do something silly, you won’t be proving how grown-up you are. Just the opposite!”

  But her brother’s lips were set as though he had made up his mind.

  “Will, you’re going to get in trouble.” She stamped her foot. “Well, I won’t let you do it.” Sparks flew from her eyes. “You’re tired from being up all night, and you need to rest. Besides, you’re still weak from being sick. I’m going right to the common house and tell Mother you’re planning something you know you aren’t supposed to do!”

  Will whirled around to face her. “If you do, I’ll never forgive you!” A black scowl appeared on his face, but then he smiled at her, his eyes full of pleading. “C’mon, Rebekah. You never tell on me, and I’ve been good for weeks now!”

  “All the more reason you shouldn’t disobey now,” she told him. But some of the anger left her eyes.

  Will added layers of clothing. He carefully took down a musket from the rough wall of their home and went through the slow process of loading it. Rebekah watched with anxious eyes. She heaved a sigh of relief when he finished. “Be careful,” she warned.

  “I will. I just want to be ready when I see a deer.”

  “Then you are going after the hunting party! Will Cunningham, you know what’s going to happen. Father will be so upset with you, and what if you get lost? Remember what happened last time? I’m not going to let you go!”

  “I’m going, and you can’t stop me,” he told her. “We don’t know that Father and the hunting party will find game. I might. I’ll head a different direction from the one they take. That way, if they don’t find deer, I may. Jake needs broth, and later, he’ll need the meat. So do we. You’re so thin that when you stand sideways, you hardly cast a shadow!”

  Rebekah couldn’t keep back a small giggle.

  Will went on. “Do you think Jake would stay home with the women and children if we needed food? Don’t be a goose, Rebekah, and don’t tell anyone.”

  Rebekah’s giggle changed, and she sounded hurt. “You don’t have to be so cross.”

  Will looked ashamed. “I’m sorry. But I need to get out of this place.”

  Rebekah searched his face. “Why, Will? Why are you so eager to run off all alone in the woods?”

  Will looked down at the ground. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “I just have to.” He lifted his head and looked at his sister. Then he said in a rush of words, “Last night when we were sitting beside Jake, I felt so helpless. Jake could have died while we were sitting there with him—and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it from happening.”

  He flung his hands out wide, and Rebekah heard the frustration and fear in his voice. “I still feel helpless. As though I’m just sitting here waiting for death to sneak up and take someone I love. I can’t just sit here doing nothing. It’s driving me mad. I have to do something.”

  Rebekah studied her brother’s face. She understood his feelings. But their long night at Jake’s side had made her feel calmer somehow, more sure that God was in control of their lives. It seemed to have had just the opposite effect on Will. His eyes were wild, and she could see he was breathing fast.

  This was apparently another one of those moments when Will seemed bound and determined to get in trouble. And this time, there would be no Jake to find him and bring him home. All too often, when Will was determined to have his own way, someone got hurt—usually Will himself. Rebekah had learned that if she could keep him from going off on his own when he was in one of his moods, she could usually curb his more foolish impulses.

  “All right,” she said suddenly. “But I’m going with you.”

  Will looked startled. “You can’t.” “Oh, yes, I can. If you’re going, then so am I.” Will hesitated. Then he shrugged. “Put some warm clothes on, then. And let’s get going.”

  Rebekah and Will had a bad moment at the gate. The sentry challenged them. “Who goes there?” he shouted.

  “We’ll never get past him,” Rebekah whispered, feeling relieved.

  But then the sentry recognized them, and his face relaxed into a smile. “Where are you two children going?”

  “I saw some rabbits on the hillside by the woods,” Will said. “We thought we’d try to snare some for our supper. Some rabbit stew would taste awfully good.”

  “That it would,” the sentry agreed. He raised an eyebrow at the musket Will carried. “And if you should see a deer, you’re all ready, I see.”

  Will grinned and nodded. He shifted the weight of the musket and stood straight and tall.

  “Well, don’t go far, children,” the sentry said. “You don’t want to get lost.”

  Rebekah nodded, and she and Will hurried on their way. “Children!” Will hissed under his breath. “I’m sick to death of being called a child.”

  “You shouldn’t have lied to him about the rabbits,” Rebekah said, her voice laced with disapproval.

  “I couldn’t very well tell him we were hunting deer, could I?” “He suspected it, anyway.”

  A faint trail led off into the woods, and the children followed it, bickering all the way. A half mile down the trail, though, Will found deer tracks and droppings. “These look no more than a few hours old.” His voice was full of excitement. “Father and the others will be happy to see us when we come back with all the meat we can carry. We’ll have to figure out a way to hide it so animals and Indians don’t find it before someone comes for the rest of the meat.”

  Rebekah gave him a skeptical glance. Will was already planning what they would do with meat they hadn’t even found yet.

  But Rebekah, too, soon became caught up in the excitement of tracking the deer. The children stopped arguing and instead discussed how much the fresh meat would help Jake and the others. They were so intent on watching the ground that they failed to notice the storm swooping toward them. Huge clouds joined others, but not until they hid the pale winter sun did Rebekah notice and look up at the sky. “There’s going to be a storm!”

  Will shifted his gaze between the tracks and the sky a half-dozen times. “Deer seek shelter from bad weather,” he said slowly. “The one we’re tracking might be just ahead. It might be hunched down in a bed beneath the trees to protect itself from the storm.” Will plunged ahead, scanning both sides of the trail. No deer.

  “Might as well turn back,” he muttered in disgust. “It’s getting so dark I couldn’t see a deer unless it jumped up in front of me, and then I probably couldn’t kill it. Of all the days for a storm, it would have to be this one. Let’s go home.”

  The children turned around and strode back down the trail the way they had come. Their feet felt heavier now, almost as heavy as their spirits. Going home with meat was one thing. Neither of them looked forward to arriving empty-handed!

  “How far did we come, anyway?” Will asked. He came to an abrupt stop and stared around at the gathering darkness. Rebekah also peered at the path, trying to recognize some landmark that would tell her how far from the stockade they were.

  “That’s funny,” she said after a moment. “I don’t remember stepping over a fallen tree in the trail before.” She pointed to the downed log that blocked their path ahead.

  Will suddenly looked uneasy. “Maybe we took the wrong fork back where the trail branched.”

  Rebekah nodded. “That must be it.”

  They turned, retraced their footsteps, and tried the other path. It led directly to a huge, uprooted tree and ended.

  Thoroughly confused, Rebekah and Will went from one promising trail to another, only to become more hopelessly lost than ever. Worse, Will stumbled and fell. The musket flew out of his hands. They searched on their hands and knees in the darkness, but they could not find it.

  Rebekah felt sweaty and cold by turns. The growing gloom soon hid any landmarks she might have recognized. All she could see
in every direction was endless forest. The only way they could keep on the faint trail was to kick out with their legs as they walked. When they hit brush, they knew they had strayed from the path.

  Rebekah’s stomach growled loudly, reminding her that the last time she had eaten was too long ago. “Why didn’t we bring some food?” she complained.

  Will didn’t answer. The rising wind bit through their clothing. Rebekah stamped her feet to get them warm.

  “I guess I thought I could get a deer and be home before anyone knew we were gone,” Will said at last. “If we only had a fire! No chance of that without the musket.” He waved his arms to warm himself. “I wonder what Father would do if he were caught out like this?”

  Plop. A large wet drop fell onto Rebekah’s face. Plop, plop, plop. Others followed. From the look of the angry clouds, an icy downpour had overtaken the children.

  Rebekah and Will dove beneath a tree with thick drooping limbs. Its overlapping branches grew so close together they protected the children from the rain, but Rebekah knew their problem wasn’t solved. Huddled against the rough tree trunk, she tried to think. “We should pray,” she said. “We should ask God to help us.”

  “Why would God want to help us?” Will’s voice sounded sullen, but Rebekah knew he was feeling guilty. Will always felt guilty after one of his rebellious moods was over. “If I were God, I might want to help you. It’s not your fault you’re out here, not really. It’s all my fault. I knew you were right. I knew it was wrong to go. And now that we’re here, it doesn’t seem like there’s much point in asking God to get us out of a mess that I created all by myself.”

  “You might as well ask why God would want to send Jesus to die for us,” Rebekah said. “I don’t think God only helps people who never make mistakes. The Bible always sounds as though God is willing to help whenever someone asks Him. Besides, I don’t think we have a choice.” She looked around at the thick darkness, and her voice wavered. “No one knows where we are. We can’t just stumble around in the dark all night. We’d better pray.”

  Will still didn’t seem convinced that God would want to listen to him. After a moment, though, he sighed. “All right, then. I’ll pray.” He hesitated for a long moment. Then he bowed his head and said softly, “God, you helped Daniel in the lions’ den, but he got thrown in. He didn’t just walk in by himself.” Will sighed again. “I should have listened to Rebekah. Forgive me, please, God. We sure can’t help ourselves, and no one knows we’re here but You.”

  “Please help us, God,” Rebekah added. Then they both said together, “Amen.”

  Rebekah felt a little better now that they had asked God for help, but Will still seemed discouraged and angry with himself. “Why am I so foolish?” he asked, hitting his forehead with his palm. “No wonder Captain Standish and Father don’t believe I’m a man.”

  Will and Rebekah huddled together beneath the tree’s meager shelter. Exhausted from the long night at Jake’s side, Rebekah finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Later, she awoke stiff and half frozen. The slight warmth the branches offered could not keep back the increasing cold. She sat shivering, thinking about her brother, who still slept at her side.

  Even the tossing storms of the wild Atlantic Ocean had not been able to drown Will’s spirit of adventure. She had never seen him as shaken as he was now. She knew he bitterly regretted leaving the settlement without permission.

  When she was shivering so hard that her teeth rattled, she poked Will awake. “We can’t stay under here. I’m freezing.”

  Will jumped up and hit his head on a branch. “Ow!” Rubbing the sore spot, he turned back toward Rebekah. “If we walk to keep warm, we may be getting farther from the settlement. But what else can we do? We’re in an awful mess.”

  “God,” Rebekah whispered, “please help us.”

  Suddenly, she grinned at her brother.

  “I know what to do.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Left. Right. Left. Right.

  Left. Right. Left. Right. Rebekah and Will swung their arms and marched. Cold, hungry, and miserable, they wanted to run, but they dared not. Rebekah knew that Will’s head was throbbing, a painful reminder to him to keep a steady pace. If they crashed into a low-hanging branch, they could be knocked senseless. They might freeze to death before they recovered.

  Left. Right. It was getting harder now. How could a person keep going when her legs felt weaker than water? Could she starve to death in just one night? Don’t be a goose, she ordered herself.

  “Have to keep moving,” Will mumbled. “Jake needs broth.

  Meat.”

  But Rebekah was so tired. Perhaps they should stop this endless marching and rest.

  “No!” The sound of her own sharp cry alerted her to the dangerous state into which she had fallen. She scrubbed at her eyes.

  “We can’t stop,” Will muttered.

  Rebekah remembered every horrible story she had heard of those who rested in the freezing cold and never woke up again. The stories also kept her walking long after she felt she could not keep on.

  Left. Right. Left. Right. Was she going mad? Rebekah giggled wildly. Dangerous or not, she had to stop.

  “I won’t sit down,” she panted. She leaned against a tree trunk to catch her breath, and after a moment, Will joined her. If she closed her eyes for just a moment, would sleep keep them shut? Will might fall asleep, too. She couldn’t chance it.

  Left. Right. On and on and on. Was this how a beast of burden who walked in a circle turning a mill wheel felt? She and Will leaned against a tree again. What are Father and Mother doing right now? Rebekah wondered. Will we ever see them again?

  Left. Right. Left. Right. Her feet felt like two anchors, weighing her down when she must keep moving.

  “God, forgive me,” she heard Will whisper. She reached for his hand with her numb fingers. Their hands clung together, warming each other.

  After what felt like a lifetime, Rebekah knew she couldn’t walk another step. She leaned against a tree, as she had been forced to do so many times throughout the long dark night. Her eyes closed. She felt the rough bark of the tree on her hands when she slid to the ground, but she was too tired to care. Beside her, Will slumped to the ground, as well. They leaned against each other, too exhausted to go on. Dimly, Rebekah realized they dared not sleep, or death would take them, as it had taken so many others. But she was too tired to fight the sleepiness that swept over her.

  “Will? Rebekah?”

  Rebekah stirred. “God, is that You?” she asked sleepily. Had she and Will died and gone to heaven?

  “Will! Rebekah!” The cry came again. Strange. It sounded like Father. What was he doing in heaven? Or were they all back in Holland? Had everything been a dream: the Mayflower, Jake, the terrible night of walking? Rebekah struggled to understand.

  When a third cry came, she felt Will struggle to his feet. He shouted, “Here! We’re here.”

  His shout was so weak that Rebekah feared Father would never hear it.

  “Son, where are you?”

  Rebekah forced her eyes open, got to her feet, and called, “Father?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She swallowed, licked her lips, then screamed at the top of her lungs, “Father, we’re here!”

  A crashing of brush and heavy, thudding footsteps told her she had been heard. She sagged with relief against the tree. A heartbeat later, Father burst into view. He raced toward them and gathered them both in his arms.

  The others of the rescue party followed close behind. “How’d you manage to keep from freezing?” one wanted to know.

  “We prayed,” Will said. He looked at his sister and grinned. “Then Rebekah remembered a story Jake told us once about a man who got trapped by a blizzard and didn’t have any food or a way to make a fire. He knew he had to keep walking, or he’d freeze, but he couldn’t see where he was going. Neither could we, so we did what he did.” Will stopped for breath.

  “What was that, son
?” Father asked. His arms tightened, sending warmth through the children’s shivering bodies.

  “We walked around the same tree all night. It kept us warm, and we didn’t wander any farther from the settlement.” Will yawned.

  After a moment of stunned silence, relieved laughter came from the rescue party. One man slapped his leg, chuckled, and said, “Well, I never! Cunningham, those are mighty clever young ones you have.”

  Rebekah’s heart thumped with pride. “It wasn’t me,” she said. “God made me think of the story.” She looked at the men’s faces. Some looked convinced. Others did not.

  “I still say it’s mighty clever,” the man said again.

  Father quietly added, “If Will had done as he was told, he and his sister wouldn’t have been in trouble at all.”

  “That’s right, lad. Listen to your father from now on.”

  “I will.” Will looked at the ground. “I guess this is my last hunting expedition for a long time.”

  “It could have been your last forever,” Father reminded him. “Now, let’s get you home where you belong. There you will stay until you learn to act like a man instead of a child who goes running off when he doesn’t get his own way.”

  Rebekah knew Will deserved everything Father said, but she also knew how much he must hurt to be corrected in front of the men. Captain Standish’s judgment would be far harsher than Father’s. She hoped her brother would take it like a man. Neither of them would ever forget what could have happened to them without the love of God to protect and help them.

  Afterward, Rebekah didn’t remember much of the trip home. At one point someone spotted Will’s musket and rescued it from the snow, but Will barely noticed. One weary step after another, the children managed to keep going until just outside the settlement. Left. Right.

  When the stockade gate swung open, Rebekah’s knees buckled. Father slung her over his shoulder and carried her. If she hadn’t been so tired, she might have been embarrassed to be hauled home like a sack of grain. As it was, she was just glad not to have to walk anymore.