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The Dove and The Raven: The Dove and The Raven - A Christian Historial Romance (Volume 1)

By Ruth Kyser

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PROLOGUE
The tall Indian known to his people as ‘The Fox’ prodded the prone figure on the ground with the toe of his moccasin. The white man lay at the bottom of a steep ravine far from any of the white man’s settlements. Who was he, and what was he doing here so far from any town? The Fox was also far from home, but he had a purpose for being here.
A faint groan came from the lips of the white man, but The Fox gave the man no aid or sympathy. The white man was barely breathing, not far from death. The Fox was interested in only one thing the white man had; he coveted the white man’s coat, once bright red with shiny buttons. Little One, his squaw, would be pleased if he returned from his journey with such a prize. There was no hesitation on the part of the Indian to take the coat of another. This white man was dying. He would not have need of such a fine coat in the other world.
The Fox quickly wrestled the coat off the inert body of the dying man and concealed it in the folds of the blanket tied on his horse. It would not be good for such an item to be found in his possession. He looked briefly around the body of the man for other items of value. There was a musket, but it wasn’t in as good a shape as the one The Fox had traded for six months earlier from the French traders who had visited his tribe.
The Fox had made this journey to trade with the white men at the fort in Hudson, but he had been unable to complete his plans because the white man was on the warpath. Too many of them were involved in trying to rid themselves of the English white men. No one had time to trade with the Indian, and being among the white men was not a safe place for him to be right now.
The Fox did not care what the white man of this country did. But he was angered that he had made the long journey from the Canadian territory only to return with nothing to show for his trouble. He had spent much time away from his tribe and wasted many days. If he hadn’t happened on the body still lying on the ground before him, his entire trip would have been for nothing. The Indian quickly mounted his horse, glanced back briefly at the white man’s body, and rode away.

Chapter 1
Hannah Stewart took a deep breath of the autumn air. It held the odor of decaying leaves, damp soil, and just a hint of the coolness that was to come. How blessed she felt to be alive this day. She and her fifteen year old sister, Phoebe, had come to the edge of the woods to harvest some of the fruit of a tall black walnut tree. Every fall the girls came to gather the nutty fruits for use in their baking. Today’s freedom was especially sweet after being forced to stay in the cabin the past few days.
Her tranquil musing was suddenly shattered by her sister’s scream. Knowing Phoebe’s tendency to go into hysterics at the least little thing, Hannah sighed and carefully placed her basket, now half-full of walnuts, on the ground. What trouble had Phoebe found now?
“Sister, sister. Come quickly,” Phoebe yelled.
Alarmed at the near panic Hannah heard in her voice, she picked up her long skirts and hurried to reach Phoebe who was a short distance away at the opposite side of the tree. Phoebe’s face was ashen with fear.
“Hannah, come quickly,” Phoebe said, breathlessly. “There’s a man over there – a soldier, I think.” Hannah watched Phoebe as she placed her palms on her chest as if to slow her racing heart.
“Hannah, I think he’s dead,” she gasped.
Hannah’s eyes widened as her sister’s words sunk in. A soldier! Her mind raced. Should they go back to the farm to get their father and let him deal with the situation? But what if the man were still alive? Could she help him if he were badly injured? Hannah quickly followed her sister as all these thoughts swirled around in her head.
Phoebe led her to where the man lay face down in a heavily brushed area at the base of a ravine. The area around him was covered with a deep golden blanket of this autumn’s newly fallen leaves.
Hannah swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and reached out to gingerly touch the back of the man’s neck where skin was exposed. His skin felt warm to the touch. She quickly pulled her hand back and gasped.
He was still alive.
“Phoebe, hurry and get Father. We need help to move him. I can’t tell how badly he’s injured, but he’s still alive, thank God.” She glanced up to see her sister’s shocked face gaping at her. Hannah impatiently pushed her away. “Run, Phoebe!”
Hannah turned to watch as Phoebe lifted her full skirts and took off toward the farmhouse. When they were small children and had engaged in foot races, Phoebe had always been the fastest of the Stewart children, even faster than the boys. Please God, she would still have the same speed today.
The Stewart family had recently been forced inside by the soldiers’ presence in the farmland around them. They had been unsure if the troops closest to their farm had been British or the Colonists, but for fear of being caught in the midst of a battle, the family hadn’t ventured outside other than to go to the barn to tend to their few animals. As far as they were from Freeman in rural New York, and as sparsely populated as the area was, they had been greatly fearful. There were many rumors going around of the awful things done to innocent farm families by the British Army, and that had been enough to keep them all behind barricaded doors with their guns and powder close by.
Hannah turned her attention back to the prostrate man at her feet. Kneeling down she carefully touched his shoulder, then realizing he was not awake to his surroundings, she pulled and tugged until she could turn him over onto his side. It was impossible at this point to tell how badly he was injured and she could only hope that moving him wouldn’t do him further injury, but some part of her needed to see his face. It was no easy task to turn him over as he was a large man with broad muscular shoulders.
She gasped as she turned his face toward her. He was heavily bearded, but dried blood covered most of the left side of his face. His long dark hair was matted to the side of his head by his blood and made his features almost indistinguishable. She looked away quickly and swallowed down the sickness that threatened to overtake her at the sight. Hannah was not a stranger to blood having taken part in butchering many farm animals over the years, but this was different. This was a man’s blood spilling out onto the golden maple leaves around him.
Heavenly Father, give me strength to help this man.
Hannah looked over the man’s attire carefully. Phoebe had said she thought he was a soldier but if that were true, there didn’t seem to be anything that would show whether he was fighting on the British or the Colonist side. The cut of his clothes was that of a simple working man; a coarse linen shirt, woolen breeches and heavy black boots. He wore no coat or cloak which she found odd considering the winter weather which was not far away.
She turned to search the ground around him, looking for a hat or something that might give her a clue as to who or what he was. Even though she searched the area thoroughly, she found nothing but his flintlock musket and a leather satchel Hannah knew carried his gunpowder and musket balls. The musket looked much the same as the one her father owned – a smoothbore with a bayonet attached – so that offered no clues either.
Hannah looked the man’s face over carefully and once again, she feared for his life as she saw his pallor. Beneath his blood, his skin was white and his breaths came in short little gasps as he struggled to survive. She just hoped and prayed her father and the boys hurried.
Her mind went to thoughts of her eldest brother, Henry, who had left to join the Continental Army a short time ago and was even now somewhere fighting the British Army. They hadn’t heard from him since he left and weren’t certain even now if he lived. She couldn’t help but hope as she looked down at the man on the ground, that he would not turn out to be British. She was only human, and even though it would be the Christian thing to do to take care of the man no matter which side he was fighting on, it would be very difficult to help someone who had perhaps fought her own brother in battle.
Hurry, Pa. Hurry.
Finally the sound Hannah had been waiting for carried across the open land. A cart and horse were coming and she could see it was their old nag, Duchess, pulling their small wooden farm cart. Matthew, her younger brother, led the horse, with her father, Jamie her youngest brother, and Phoebe riding in the back of the cart on top of some loose straw.
Hannah felt a relief sweep over her at the knowledge that her father was now there to make whatever decisions would need to be made. She brushed some loose strands of hair back up under her cap.
Her father’s voice carried across the short distance. “What is it, lassie? Who have you and your sister found?”
“I know not, Pa, but he’s in a bad way. We may be too late to save him.”
She watched as her father slowly hopped out of the cart and hurried over to check the man himself. He shook his head and instructed Matthew to help him get the man into the back of the cart. All four of them ended up having to help lift him, as he was so large. Hannah tried to make him as comfortable as possible, and was careful not to touch the man’s left ankle which seemed to protrude at a strange angle.
She glanced over at her father long enough to read the concern on his face. As he climbed back into the cart next to the injured man, Hannah felt a sense of alarm. This man was badly injured. Had they found him too late to save him?
Mr. Stewart and Phoebe steadied the man’s body the best they could while Matthew led the horse and turned him and the cart around to slowly start the trip back home. Hannah ran on ahead to get a bed prepared for the man. The baskets of walnuts were momentarily forgotten as she rushed across the meadow, her mind in turmoil.
There was currently no physician in the small town of Freeman. The one that had made his home there for the past few years had recently left to join the Continental Army. Hopefully her father and she could do what it would take to save the man – if he wasn’t injured too badly. Who knew how many days he had laid there where they found him, out in the elements, just lying there in the leaves and the dirt?
Her prayer now was that they had found him in time or he wouldn’t need a bed.
Only a grave.

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