The Captive Heart by Dale Cramer Page B

was his father. It was his right, his responsibility, and none of them would interfere. Ever.
    When Ira finally ran out of words he stalked off down the road toward the last wagon, presumably to cool himself off. The other boys had come to see what was happening and heard the whole tirade. Now they quietly faded back up into the woods, and Micah remained by the wheel of the lead wagon, staring at the shotgun in his hands, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
    When she judged that Ira was far enough away Miriam padded softly down the bank and went over to Micah.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    A slight nod. He didn’t look at her. There was a distinct handprint on his cheek, and the beginning of a bruise.
    â€œMicah.”
    After a few seconds his head turned and he looked down at her.
    â€œMicah, it’s all right. Whatever you meant to do, just ask and it will be forgiven. You’re alive. We’re all alive, thanks to you, and ours is a Gott of mercy.”
    A thin line of silver appeared in the bottoms of his eyes and he looked away from her again, embarrassed.
    Softly she said, “Micah, tell me the truth—tell yourself the truth. You would not really have killed those men, would you?”
    The pain in his eyes deepened as he looked down at the shotgun in his hands. His thumb moved over the top of the stock to the lever that released the breech, and he pushed it sideways. The shotgun broke in the middle, twin barrels hinging down.
    Miriam’s mouth opened but she couldn’t speak, tears springing to her own eyes as she reached out slowly and brushed a fingertip across the empty barrels where the shells should have been.
    She reached up then, with the same finger, and gently turned his chin so that he faced her.
    â€œMicah, you mean to tell me it was never loaded? The whole time? ”
    He nodded grimly.
    â€œThen why didn’t you say something to your dat? Why didn’t you tell him, Micah? Why did you just stand there mute?”
    What she saw in his eyes then was almost too painful to bear, but at last he spoke. In a voice that had been scraped raw by a fierce, proud anger, he said, “It would have done no good. Nothing pleases him.”
    As if to put an exclamation point on his words, he snapped the shotgun shut. Leaning into the wagon, he shoved it under the seat, then turned away and strode up into the woods with his fists buried deep in his pockets.
    She let him go. He needed to be alone, and there was nothing left to say. There were things she did not understand about men and probably never would, but it was a fact that sometimes a man, faced with a pain too great to endure, would simply choose to do nothing. Sometimes he would see no option but to stand there like a mule in a downpour and bear it.
    â€”——
    Two hours later the last wagon was loaded and tied down. The shadows grew long, the sun just touching the western peaks. They would have to hurry to get the heavily laden wagons over the worst of the mountain trails before darkness fell.
    While the men hitched up the horses, Miriam scrambled on top of the logs with Kyra and her boys, but when she looked back and saw Micah alone on the seat of the last wagon, she climbed down without a word and went to sit beside him.
    Sensing that he needed company, if not words, she sat close to him. Neither of them said anything for a long time as he wrestled and cajoled his team of Belgians up and down the mountain ridges. But later, as the sun dipped behind the hills and the clouds turned to simmering coals, she bumped him with a shoulder and said quietly, “Are you okay?”
    He nodded. “A couple hours with an axe can cure a lot.”
    â€œIt’s good you can bounce back so easy.”
    He glanced down at her and smiled a little, then his eyes went back to the road. “It’s not so hard if you’ve had plenty of practice.”
    â€œYour father gets like that often?”
    A