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The Dream of Shiloh

By Patricia Clark Blake

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Chapter 1

If a man speaks a vow unto the Lord or swears an oath to bind his soul with a bond; he shall not break his word. He shall do according to all that proceedth out of his mouth. Numbers 30:2 [KJV c1850]

A marriage of convenience. What fool coined that expression? Patrick MacLayne had experienced neither a marriage nor convenience in the last few weeks. And he could blame only himself for the confusion, frustration, fatigue, and doubt he was feeling.
A solitary two-foot tall stake with a green ribbon fluttering across the meadow of wild flowers and grass captured Mac’s eye that April morning in 1857. He rose from the wagon seat where he’d sat next to his wife of seven weeks, raised his hand to shield his eyes from the rising sun, and surveyed the site of his future cabin. He saw neither the beauty of the purple cone flowers nor the delicately swaying Queen Anne’s lace dancing in the morning sunlight. He hardly noticed he wasn’t alone. The meadow was glorious with black-eyed Susan, scarlet flax, and lupine scattered among the clover and grass, but Mac saw only a green ribbon whipping in the wind. He rubbed his palms against the welt of his dungarees. He ached to sink his pick into the earth beneath that ribbon, which marked the place for the cornerstone of his cabin. This late in the growing season, a garden must come first.
Driving that pick deep into the soil of Greene County, Arkansas, would set into motion the last act necessary to meet the pledge he’d made to Laurel’s father when he promised Mark Campbell in March she would have a safe, comfortable home. The final obstacle to his hope of a family and home would be eliminated by the construction of a simple cabin, and his own father would no longer be disappointed with him. The MacLayne family line would not end in three short generations in the new land his grandfather had made their home. That cabin was so much more than just a house, but it would have to wait. Homesteaders knew their first obligation was to provide food for the coming winter.
Though married legally four days after meeting, the seven weeks of their marriage proved to be their courtship. True, Laurel slept next to him and at times, nestled on his shoulder in her sleep, but the promise was intact. The vow to Laurel that he’d not take her to wife until he’d earned the right by giving her a home would be met in full. Nothing would stop him from building that cabin before the end of summer. His dream of a home in Shiloh was too near reality. And to date, she’d given no indication she was ready for more.
In his prayers, he wrestled. Was he willing to allow this woman a place in his heart? He swore he’d never give his heart to another woman after the faithless Marsha. Could Laurel be satisfied with a marriage based on a solid friendship and their mutual faith in the Lord? Would his faith allow him to live that way? The day was too beautiful for these bothersome questions.
“Look, Mac. Isn’t that yarrow?” Mac jerked his head upward as her words pulled him back. “Do you remember how Shirley Lamb used that plant to take down my fever? How nice to have some medicine on your land.”
“Nice you remembered what it looked like. I didn’t.” Mac barked in reply. Lord, forgive the tone. She was just making a comment. I didn’t have to snap at her.
“It’s almost a shame to have to destroy all these wonderful flowers to build a house here. Your land is so beautiful.”
“This is our land, Laurel, and they are only wildflowers. They grow all over the place. We can plant more if you want them, but we’ve got to build some place.” Mac flung the pick and shovel over the side of the wagon. “As much as I want to start the house, we’ve got to get a garden planted first. Those saplings and vineyard cuttings we brought from Washington County won’t survive much longer. You do want your orchard or don’t you, Wife? The cabin has to wait.”
With the foundation site chosen for the cabin, placement of the orchard and the garden plot was obvious, and planting must take priority, but Mac knew he didn’t have to be so curt in his remarks. What was wrong with him? Being late in April, planting season was well underway, so they had days of back breaking labor in this unbroken land to assure a garden would fill their larder with enough to feed them through the winter and up until the next spring. It would be several years before the orchard would bear good fruit, maybe up to ten years, but the grapes would grow enough to produce fruit in about four years. Until that time, the woods would supply ample blackberries and mulberries.
Mac lifted Laurel from the wagon seat, and they began to clean the site for the first orchard in Greene County. They worked until the site was ready to receive the plants. The area was on a slight incline that would drain well in wet weather but near enough the creek where the plants could be watered if the rains failed to provide adequate moisture. Side by side, the MacLaynes, dug out rocks, pulled vines, felled small trees, and removed debris of uncounted years making the soil ready to plow. When it was too dark to see, they headed back to the Widow Parker’s cabin, their temporary home, to deal with nightly chores.
The following morning, very early, Mac and Laurel headed back to the homestead. The newlyweds toiled on their land for three days. Breaking the virgin soil was difficult work, but by the time the sun reached its zenith on Wednesday, Mac and Laurel finished planting the dozen fruit trees and five grape cuttings that had survived the long trip across the state. Only one peach tree seedling died on that long trek from Washington County to Shiloh.
When the orchard was planted, Mac wanted to hitch the two mules that had pulled the wagon across the state into halters and sink the first plow into the soil for their garden at his homestead. He’d plant potatoes, pole beans, onions, and pumpkins. They’d marked off another section for tomatoes, cabbage, corn, and okra, which he’d put nearest the cabin site. After the garden, many more days of work preparing plots for oats, hay, and wheat would follow. Such was the common lot of an Arkansas homesteader who must feed himself, his family, and his animals. Without question, crops came first. Only then could Mac sink his pick into the ground to start the work on a cabin. That time was still days off.
“Can I help you with the plowing, Mac?”
He picked up her hands and turned them over to look at her palms. “You amaze me, Laurel. We’ve put in three very hard days, but I don’t see one blister.”
“I’m no pampered city girl, Mac. I worked hard on my papa’s homestead doing these same things. We had gardens, orchards, and fields to tend in the mountains too.”
“But your hands aren’t hard and rough.”
“They are used to hard work. Now can I help?”
“You’ve done your share these past three days, Wife. I’m thinking, you’ve got another obligation this afternoon.” Mac pulled his hat off his head and wiped his forehead on his shirt sleeve.
“I can seed behind you, as you plow.”
“That’ll be work for another day. If you remember, school marm, you have a meeting this afternoon. You promised Matthew you’d meet with the school committee after the noon meal today.” Why did Laurel always have to be willing to work so hard with him? He didn’t ask her for her help.
“I’d forgotten. Will you ride with me?”
“You don’t need me there.”
“They may want to thank you for bringing me here. If you hadn’t come to Washington County to get a teacher for the subscription school, you wouldn’t have been married to the Spinster of Hawthorn, you know.”
“I thought we’d put that issue to rest several weeks ago.” Mac turned his back to her for a minute. Laurel reached out and hesitantly touched his shoulder with her hand, which he brushed away.
“Laurel, I came to pay court to the daughter of my best friend’s brother. It was just nice that she is also smart enough to be a good teacher. Now don’t get my dander up. Just stay on the road, and you’ll end up by the church yard. I’ll start gathering stones for the foundation. There’s too much work to do here. I’ll never get a cabin built if I have to take an afternoon just to ride a mile down the road with you. Anyway, it’s the same path you’ll take to school every day.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of the work. I can find my way.”
“Sorry, Laurel. I didn’t mean to be short. I’ll meet you back at the widow’s place before nightfall.” Mac hoisted her up on to Sassy Lady, her little mare that she’d ridden that morning. Almost smiling at her, he waved good-bye.
***
Laurel blotted perspiration from her brow and smoothed the front of her skirt a second time as she stood on the porch of the church. Shuffling from one foot to the other, she reached for the door. In Hawthorn, she helped the teacher or filled in for a teacher on leave. She knew she could do what was expected, and she was confident she was a good teacher, but this was the first time she’d be a head teacher. Regardless, she was pleased her Uncle Matthew was a part of the committee who oversaw the school. At the set time, Laurel stood face to face with the school committee of Shiloh subscription school.
“Laurel Grace, good to see you. I think you met Ransom Nolan the other day, and this fellow is Nathaniel Trice. The three of us are responsible for keeping this school going.”
After the pleasantries, Mr. Nolan became the spokesman for the group. “Mrs. MacLayne, we were more’n satisfied with your qualifications to teach. What do you plan to teach our children?”
Belying her nerves, Laurel looked directly at Mr. Nolan. “Mostly language, arithmetic, reading, spelling, and penmanship. I won’t know exactly until I see what the students can do now and how old they are. I would hope to teach some history and oratory skills, too. I will use the Scriptures to teach whenever I can.” The men nodded their approval.
“Can you show me what books we have here for the children to use?” A frown appeared on her face as she examined the few books the school owned. “We’ll need to replace these books. I was told nineteen students across all the grade levels are enrolled. We’ll need things for all of them.”
“Presently, Mrs. MacLayne, we may have to make do. The school fund is low right now.”
“Is it all right if I order a few new books?”
Mr. Trice looked away and cleared his throat gruffly.
“You don’t understand, Laurel Grace.” Her uncle Matthew explained. “Right now, we only have enough tuition money to pay you. Since you have a place to live, we will pay you ten dollars a month. We usually pay eight dollars and board. We want you to teach through May, June and July, so the students will be free to help with the harvest until mid-November. If the weather permits, we will have a winter term, but that needs to end at Christmas because of the weather and the roads. January and February are often treacherous, and we don’t want to put our kids in peril. Of course, spring is the most important time for us when we have to plow and plant. All the families need their older kids at home during planting season.”
Determination in her voice, Laurel spoke quietly, “That’ll be fine, but I want half my pay now so I can order books.” Mr. Trice turned around and looked at Laurel, his mouth agape. The expression on the faces of the school committee showed them somewhat taken aback at Laurel’s outspokenness.
“Mrs. MacLayne, do you mean to tell us that you want to be paid in advance?” His face florid, Mr. Trice asked.
“Well, yes…but I am going to use the money to buy things my students need. I want to give them the best schooling I can in the short time they have to learn. I will wait to the end of the term for the rest of my pay, which I will keep.”
“Well, Nathaniel, it’s not an unreasonable request. Since Laurel Grace is asking for her due, and then to make a generous gift to our school. I think we should say yes.”
“Mrs. MacLayne, we may not be able to repay your generosity.”
“I was told this is my home now. That being the case, I want to live in a community where students get a good education.”
Ransom Nolan offered his hand. “Mrs. MacLayne, we’ll talk about your unusual request. You can order a few books from the general store in Greensboro. Tell McCollough to put them on the account, and we’ll take care of it when we can.”
“Thank you, gentlemen. I am pleased to be the teacher for this school.” Mr. Nolan and Mr. Trice paid their respects to the new school marm and left the church.
“Did you have a good morning with Mac?”
“Oh, yes. Uncle Matthew. We got all my trees planted and the grape vines set out. Mac’s ready to break ground for the garden. We want to plant our entire garden before the end of the week. Today, Mac’s gathering stones for the foundation and fireplaces for his cabin. You won’t believe how much progress we have made.”
“You two seem happy. Are you?”
“Most days are good. We’ve been crosswise at times, too. We still have a lot to learn about each other.”
“Is Mac the husband you expected, Laurel Grace?”
“I never expected to have a husband, Uncle, so I don’t really know how to answer your question.”
“You make it hard for a person to understand you, niece. Is Mac living up to his vows?”
“He treats me well. He has taken care of me and defended my name. He wants to live up to the promises he made to my papa.”
“Can you love him, Laurel Grace?”
Laurel didn’t want to have this conversation with her uncle. She hesitated.
“Will you answer me? I’m not just being your nosey old uncle. I am also your pastor. Mac is my best friend, and I want to help both of you if I can.”
“Uncle Matthew, truthfully, I don’t know if I can love Mac. I’m not sure I know what that means. When I was a girl, I believed in romance, just like every other girl, but I am not a girl anymore. Right now, I am building a friendship with Mac, and that’s enough–for now.”
“I sense you’re upset with me, niece, but I got one more question, then I’ll stop asking for now. Why did you agree to marry Mac?”
“Uncle Matthew…what choice did I have? Papa sold our land because he knew the law would not let me inherit it. No one in Hawthorn would ever ask me to marry. I was the Spinster of Hawthorn, too plain, too smart, and too different from the other girls. How would I make a living for myself? I could have come here and lived with you as an old maid dependent, tried to go to Texas and find my brother Daniel and do the same in his household, or marry Patrick MacLayne. I made the only choice I could live with.”
“Laurel, I want you to be happy above all else. How much do you know about Mac’s past?”
“He’s told me about his love for a beautiful woman when he was younger. I think he said he was about twenty-one. He said something about wasting seven years of his life in what he called low living.”
“Niece, ask Mac to tell you the details of him leaving Maryland. You deserve to know how he felt about that time of his life, and the limits he placed on himself because of it.”
“Why should he tell me about the ugly part of his life? I don’t want to tell him about mine. Besides, Mac told me he has no plan to love me. Is that what you are asking?”
Matthew stared back at her. “Laurel Grace, talk to Mac. I know him pretty well. He hasn’t told me yet about the circumstances of your marriage, but I was surprised when he brought a bride home and you being my own niece. But I also believe the Lord means good for you, Laurel, and for Mac. Mac is a good man, and he loves the Lord. If he believes that God meant y’all to be together, then it’s right. Make sure you really understand. I don’t want you to become a victim of his past and end up with a broken heart. Live in God’s time, and let Him work out His plan, darlin’.”
“Thank you for caring, Uncle. The Lord will take care of me. We believe He planned this marriage so eventually everything will work out for the good.” Laurel hugged her uncle and left the church to ride home. As uncomfortable as the topic of the conversation was, Laurel was grateful her family was nearby.
Laurel prepared a filling supper and brewed Mac’s evening coffee. She baked corn pone over the coals in the fire place. Baking was a chore in the widow’s cabin because she didn’t have a hearth oven, but Laurel knew how her grandmother Wilson baked in a kettle over glowing coals. By placing a lid on the kettle and using stones to keep the baking pan from settling directly on the bottom of the kettle, a skilled cook could turn out a decent pone.
At dark, Mac arrived at the widow’s cabin, and he took care of his evening chores before going in to supper. He used the water and soap Laurel left for him on the back porch so he could clean up before eating.
“Did you get much done this afternoon?” Laurel asked over her shoulder.
“I did. I stacked two fair-sized piles of rock near the home site. What about you?”
“Good meeting. I asked them to give me half of my pay before school starts.”
Mac slung the towel down on the wash table. “Why did you do that? We don’t need the money, Laurel.”
“The students need new books. I asked for the money to buy them. I’m not sure how many it will buy, but it’ll be more than we have now. I hope it is all right with you. I didn’t stop to think.”
He shrugged. “It’s your money, Laurel. You can spend it how you see fit. Anything else happen?”
“Not really. I chatted with Uncle Matthew for a while.”
“What’d Matthew have to say?”
“He just wanted to know how we were getting along.” Laurel paused for a second. “He asked me if I loved you.” Mac turned to face Laurel. “He told me he didn’t want me to end up with a broken heart.” “Neither do I, Laurel. I want you to be sure you made the best choice for yourself.”
“Matthew suggested there were things about your past that I needed to know. I told him you’ve already confessed your past life to me, and you never intend to fall in love.”
Mac stopped in his tracks and stared at Laurel for a minute. “What did he say about that?”
“He said we need to talk about things.”
“He is right about that.”
“We have made some good progress, don’t you think? Things have been good since we moved here to the Widow’s cabin. Perhaps this place is charmed.”
“We have just been avoiding the serious issues because they cause us to get crosswise with each other.”
“I like the charmed idea better.”
Mac took her by the shoulders and looked into her gray eyes. “I like the truth. Seems to last longer. We get upset for a little while, but things seem better afterwards. Laurel, on our trip across the state, I told you my story. I don’t think I left any of the horrible details out, but we haven’t talked about your story much.”
“I don’t have a story. I was born plain. My cousin Susan got all the beauty in the Campbell family. Well, maybe not all. Little Mary is going to be a beauty when she grows up too. You can already see it in her.”
“That’s not the truth, Laurel. It’s an excuse. Day before yesterday, you told me your glasses were part of your mask. Why do you need a mask?”
“Mac, I don’t want to talk about it. Today’s been good. Don’t spoil it, please.” Laurel pulled away and walked toward the hearth.
Mac followed and turned Laurel to face him. “Laurel, how can your story be any worse than mine? I told you I broke or considered breaking every commandment. I spoke the truth to you. Can you give me less?”
“Masks hide what we don’t want other people to see.”
“So, you are telling me you hide behind a mask to hide the fact that you are beautiful?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got two good eyes.”
“Then I don’t understand your need for a mask. If you have no beauty to hide, why make an ugly mask to hide behind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You began to remember when we were attacked by those thieves outside Jasper.”
“Yes, I was scared by what those men tried to do. I was afraid for you, and I didn’t know what they would do to me. I don’t remember anything else.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.
“Laurel, tell me about the nightmare last night.”
“I don’t remember anything else. I don’t. Please stop asking me.”
Mac’s face reddened and his breath grew shallow. “Laurel, I don’t know what else I can do to earn your trust. I’ve already given you mine. You dishonor me when you shut me out. Goodnight. I’m going to the loft to read for a while.”
“Mac…” Mac I’d tell you if I knew what happened that night, but I don’t know. I only remember the sheep shears and the laughter… A lone tear traced its way down Laurel’s cheek.
“I’m tired. I won’t argue with you anymore. Come up when you are ready to go to sleep. Goodnight.”
 

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