Brave Enemies by Robert Morgan

dodging limbs and stumbling around bushes and big trees. But the light didn’t get any closer. Whoever held the light was moving too. The yellow of the light was mellow as melting butter. I followed the lantern as it swayed and bobbed along through the trees. I heard voices too but couldn’t tell what they were saying. I just followed the lantern as quietly as I could. Maybe they were outlaws, or maybe rebels like Mr. Pritchard’s gang.
    Now the strangest thing was I saw this other light coming through the woods on my right. It got closer and closer, and I heard the people carrying the second light greet those with the first lantern. It was good to hear somebody speak in the dark woods.
    â€œAre you going to the meeting, brother?” a voice said.
    â€œAye, sir, to the meeting at Zion Hill,” a second voice said.
    I followed both lights on the trail, walking quietly, trying not to break a stick or rustle the new-fallen leaves. Were they going to a rebel meeting? Was I following outlaws starting on a raid? The country was full of robbers and deserters. And then I heard a woman’s voice too and figured they would not be outlaws. You didn’t hear of outlaws traveling with women. In the dark I got as close behind as I dared. The trail ran throughsome pine woods and then came out in a clearing. And way ahead I saw a lighted window.
    As we got closer I saw other people around the glowing window. There were people gathered there. And when we got closer still I saw it was a little building with a steeple on it. It was a little church sitting on a hill surrounded by woods. A tide of relief washed through me. Mama and I had never gone to church that much, but I’d been baptized when I was a baby. I’d gone to church on Easter and Christmas. A church house seemed like a safe place.
    I set Mr. Griffin’s hat straight on my head and marched right up to the door of the log church like that’s where I’d meant to go all along. As I came into the little building people turned to look at me and a few nodded. Some women stared and a few smiled. There were maybe ten or twelve benches in the room, and two lanterns hung up front above a table. I shivered and sat down on a bench at the back. Now that I was inside, I saw how cold I’d gotten. There was no fireplace in the building, but it was warmer inside than out.
    A tall skinny man in a black coat stood up at the table in front. He didn’t look to be more than twenty-four, maybe twenty-five, years old.
    â€œMy friends, you are all welcome,” he said. A white scarf was tied around his throat, but all his other clothes were black. His voice was plain but pleasing. He said he welcomed us there to a place of worship, in these troubled and desperate times. He said he welcomed us to the fellowship with each other, with song and prayer, and to fellowship with the Lord in Heaven.
    â€œWithout are wolves and thieves and whoremongers,” he said in a quiet voice. “But in here we are gathered to praise the Lord. In here we are gathered to rejoice and praise the Maker with prayers of Thanksgiving. We are gathered to uphold the light in darkness. We are gathered to ask the Lord’s blessings on our lives in these days of great peril.”
    â€œWe will lead in song,” the preacher said. “We will raise our voices in a hymn.”
    The song he started singing I’d heard before. It was “Jesus Shall Reign” I found out later. He started singing and the others joined in, and I found myself singing too.
    Jesus shall reign wher-e’er the sun
    Does his successive journeys run;
    His kingdom spread from shore to shore,
    Till moons shall wax and wane no more.
    When everybody was singing these words it felt as if the church was a different place. The log church was lifted up to a new level. The lanterns got brighter and sweeter. Everybody was singing together. A few minutes before I’d been out in the dark of the