Faithful Unto Death

Riding One and Leading the Other

that plain, scrawny Anna could make an entrance sweeping down it on Papa’s arm. “We’ll hope she doesn’t trip and roll all the way down and land at Henry’s feet,” she thought, suppressing a giggle. Too, it was annoying to catch the glances of their friends—did they pity her, because Anna was marrying the hired man? Ridiculous! Still, it made her long to escape the dismal little town. More and more she’d been giving thought to the comment she’d tossed at Anna, and Henry’s response. “A missionary?” “You?” And why not! No, not to go and live in the north woods in a shanty and minister to the savages, who were nothing more than wild beasts, to her mind. No, the American Missionary Board had gone much farther a‹eld, to the East, as far as China and the Japans, but most of all, to Turkey. In the last year, two different visiting lecturers had spoken of the need to bring religion and its civilizing in›uences to the Mohammedans . Several schools had opened up to educate the children of the Armenians, those stalwart souls who’d converted to the True Faith at the time of the Crusades and established their Christian communities along the routes where the Crusaders had passed. The Sultan of Turkey hated all Christians, it was said, and today’s missionaries would be the new crusaders, bringing religion to the in‹dels once again. Charlotte couldn’t help feeling a tingle of excitement. While the stories of Ali Baba and other such tales were of pagans and Saracens and not appropriate for Christian children to dwell upon too deeply, they left an exotic odor behind in her mind. It smelled of desert nights, camels, ›ying carpets, and evil sultans, in close proximity to the lands where Jesus had walked, and it was far more compelling than getting married and raising a pack of mewling babies, no matter how handsome the swineherd. She’d written to the Missionary Board and awaited the reply, and she had not mentioned it to Anna at all. Riding One and Leading the Other “henry, i’ve taken a step without consulting you, and I hope you’ll forgive me. I want you to go to Traverse City this Friday, and fetch back two horses from Cooper’s livery.” 54 “But Mr. Spencer, have you forgotten? Saturday’s the big day! I’d planned to spend some time with my family and just, well, get ready.” “Oh, rubbish, Henry, a young man doesn’t need to do anything special to prepare for his wedding; he’s not the one people look at. Well, perhaps he needs to place his faith in the Lord and be sure to bathe well. I need these horses, and I promised Mrs. Spencer I would be at her disposal all of Friday. She has already worn herself to a frazzle cleaning the Bailey house for the wedding, with only Anna to help her.” Neither man saw ‹t to comment on Charlotte’s reluctant assistance in the wedding preparations. Henry left, somewhat crankily, on his errand early on Friday morning . Saturday noon, he reported to David Spencer. He’d ridden back on one handsome bay gelding and led its match, by a rope tied to its halter. “These are certainly ‹ne horses, Mr. Spencer. I can understand why you wanted to make sure of them. Two other men were admiring them at Cooper’s when I arrived.” “Do you like them, Henry? Then I am pleased.They are for you and Anna.” Henry stared at him, momentarily speechless. David looked at his feet, embarrassed. Henry turned to the nearest horse and stroked its soft nose. “A wonderful gift, Mr. Spencer, thank you very much. Anna will be touched, as I am, by your thoughtfulness.” “Don’t thank me, Henry; I just want to give my daughter and her husband a good start in life.” Half an hour later, Henry ran a dandy brush briskly along Squire’s ›ank. He had renamed his horses (his horses!); it seemed in keeping with his new status. One day he was a boarding student, the “hired boy,” and then he was a graduate, and now he was a property owner, with two ‹ne horses, “broken to ride or drive.” Soon he was to become a husband and a family man! Squire and Star were a handsome pair, as well matched as twins. Henry already...