Dear Readers, I would like to share the first chapter of my latest book, BE STRONG AND COURAGEOUS. I welcome any feedback, as I strive to hone my writing skills. It takes 15-20 minutes to read.

Her throat closed, as if she were sobbing, but she was not crying. Abigail Rose Cunningham made no sound as she listened to the receding rumble of horses and war whoops. She had slipped away from camp to be alone for a while, and to gather lamb’s quarters for the evening meal. If not for that, her screams would have been among those echoing in her mind.

Fear had paralyzed Abigail, but her conscience berated her. She recalled her eight-year-old brother’s request to go with her and how impatience she had been with him. “Abby! Abby, they’re all dead!” she heard him say.

Her light brown eyes flew open. David Ian Cunningham was on his knees before her. His ginger hair glinted in the afternoon light. The freckles across his nose were prominent against his skin drained of color. “Is it a ghost that I’m seeing?” she whispered.

“No! I’m just scared half to death. They’re all dead down there. The horses and mules are gone. They took Shadow with them. Shadow’s gone.” His light brown eyes were filled with pain and riveted onto her own.

Abigail grabbed him and held on tightly. He did not complain as usual, or try to pull away. “Davy . . . Davy . . . I’m so sorry I left you in camp,” she whispered into his hair, while kissing the top of his head.

“I wasn’t in camp,” he mumbled against her shoulder. He pushed away to look at her. “I took Blazer and rode over to those trees. I was some upset with you.”

“With all my heart, I regret being short with you. I’m so thankful you’re okay.”

“I am. But Shadow’s gone . . . the Wilson mules and Mr. Clark’s donkey, too.”

“As soon as Shadow gets a chance, that horse will come back to you.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried not to cry. “Where is Blazer?”

“I left him at the trees and ran back to see what happened.” His lips trembled. “Abby . . . Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are dead . . . so’s Mr. Clark.”

She watched repulsion, horror and dismay fill his eyes, as she tried to read what he wasn’t telling her. “Are you sure everyone’s dead?”

“I’m sure.” He stood to look down at Abigail, who was more a mother than a sister. She was a charming girl of eighteen, that caused second glances. Their sandy hair and freckles were identical, as were their long ginger eyelashes. “Can you get up, Abby?”

“Yes, I feel weak as a kitten, but . . . why?”

“Come to the trees with me.” He shivered. “We need to hide. In case they return.

“I feel like I should check on the Wilsons. Make sure they’re dead,” she said, as she stood on trembling legs.

“I know death when I see it,” he softly whispered, as tears filled his eyes.

“Davy . . .”

His eyes narrowed. “They took their clothes . . . their hair . . . they’re full of arrows, Sis.” He swiped roughly at the tears on his cheeks. “Their eyes are wide open to the sun.”

A flicker of dread flared in her eyes, as she noticed the smoke from the fire still floating toward heaven. “Why, Lord? What’re You thinking?” she murmured.

“Abby . . . I’m afraid. Come with me . . . please.”  

“Yes,” she whispered, when she felt him take her hand. “Let’s go to the trees.”

As if she were the child, he tried to ease her fears. “Only the top of the wagon’s burned. They took most everything, but I have a coffee pot . . . some fixings for several meals.”

“Was the fake bottom discovered?”

“Not that I remember. I was sick at my stomach . . . more than once.”

Understanding filled her beautiful eyes. “That’s a normal reaction . . . considering what you saw. I’m suffering with the collywobbles, myself.”

“Well . . . you look scared . . . confused. I’ve never seen you look like this.”

“I’ll not lie to you. I’m terrified and very confused. I wish Pa was here, Davy.”

“I’m mighty glad you’re here with me,” he said, as they reached the trees.

She squeezed his hand. Her horse, Blazer, nickered at them and Abigail felt relief. He was chestnut red with a blaze of white on his face. “Why’s he saddled?”

David looked up at her and remorse filled his eyes. “I was going to go off for a while and make you worry about me, and him. I’m sorry for that meanness.”

“Yes . . . well . . . at least you’re safe and we have a horse and a saddle.”

The pain on his face was in his voice. “We do have that to be thankful for.”

“I’m sorry, David. Please try to understand. I needed to be alone . . . without your voice distracting me. Not that I mind all your questions. Mr. Clark was right about the danger.”

“He and Mr. Wilson were arguing and drinking moonshine. Mrs. Wilson didn’t notice when I packed my bedroll and some things to take along.”

Abigail wilted, as abject fear filled her mind.  “It’ll be dark soon.”

“I know, Sis.”

Bewildered, she whispered, “Dear Jesus . . . help me. Please . . . please protect us.”

“Abby . . . He did,” David said, with awe. “We’re both alive and we have Blazer.”

She considered his words, and trembled. “Yes, He did. We must accept this as God’s will. I hope He will forgive me for being befuddled by fear.” She griped her stomach.

“You need to remember all the Scripture you quoted to me, when I was afraid.” He raised his eyebrows. “Right now, Fear not for I am with you, is in my head.”

“Isaiah forty-one. Verse ten. Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: …She fell to her knees and curled into a ball. David knelt before her, and bowed face down, as he listened to her prayer.

After her humble petition for strength, guidance, and protection, she looked at David and sighed. “I’m going down there. Hopefully they didn’t find the fake bottom. We’ll need that money . . . the clothing . . . the ammunition. I want you to wait here.”

“No way!” he said. “I can’t bear the thought of letting you out of my sight!” He stuck his chin out and his eyes narrowed as he scowled up at her.

“Now, David . . . I don’t want you to see the bodies again.”

“Sis . . . if we stay at the back, we won’t see them . . . if we don’t look that way.” His eyes pleaded with her.

She shuddered. “I need to recover as much as I can. I only have this gun and five bullets.”

“I have my sling shot, Abby.” He looked confident.

“Wonderful . . . you can keep us supplied with meat. David . . . I must do this.”

“Not without me!” He frowned at her, but his eyes pleaded for understanding.

“Maybe you’re right about staying together. Leave Blazer and be very quiet.”

“It’s a far piece to fetch things, Abby. He needs to stay with us. To carry stuff, or maybe to get us out of there fast.”

She studied his face for a few moments, as panic confused her. He was the child in this situation, but his clear thinking was a light for her. She closed her eyes. Dear Jesus, please, take control of my mind. Guide me. Give me the wisdom I need so desperately.

David watched her body start to curl up. “Abby! Snap out of it! It’ll be dark soon.”

“Yes . . . yes, it will,” she said in a wobbly voice. “You’re right about Blazer.”

The wagon was charred around the rim where the canvas top had touched it, but it was still sturdy. Abigail tried not to think of the dead near her. She opened the fake bottom and praised God that the Bible and their treasured belongings were unharmed. She quickly removed six burlap sacks, three quilts and a carpetbag.

“I have to go through these, but let’s get them back to the trees.” She noticed David struggling with his emotions. “Get up on Blazer and I’ll lift them up to you.”

 She watched him settle onto the saddle, before lifting the sack. “Loop the drawstring around the pommel. Three on each side.”

Abigail closed the fake bottom and resisted the temptation to search for anything else that might be of use. “Let’s go. I’ll carry the carpet bag.”

“Hand it to me, Sis. It’ll ride in front of me, on top of the quilts. Climb up on the wagon and get behind me. We need to hurry.”

“I’m seeing you in a whole new light, baby brother. The Holy Spirit has given you the gift of wisdom. That comforts me greatly.”

“You’re a comfort to me, Abby. I hate leaving the bodies unburied. But Mr. Clark said if we touch anything, it’ll give us away . . . that they missed us.”

“Yes, I remember. Try not to think about them, David. We need to focus on getting to Pa and let God take care of the dead. They’re in his hands now, either way.”

“Mr. Wilson sure was onery about the Lord. I guess he knows the truth now,” he said.

“He knows. I’ll miss Mrs. Wilson, but she was always talking about her real home in the stars. God rest her soul. She’s there now . . . with Jesus.”

David took her to an area in the woods, that was cleared. An old debris shelter was in the middle. “I found this back here. It even has rocks around the firepit. I wonder who made it,” he said, as she helped him dismount first.

“Me, too,” she said. “What a blessing.  It’s small, but well made. We need a fire, but I wonder if it’s safe to do that? It’s dark with the sun going.”

“The sun’s still up, but we can’t see it for the brush. A small fire will be hidden.” He raised his eyebrows. “Abby, we don’t want to be in here without a light . . . do we?”

“No! We do not.” She shivered. “Be mindful of snakes, when we’re gathering wood.”

“You didn’t need to tell me that.” He frowned at her.

“It was just as much for my befuddled mind as for yours, young man. Be quick about it.”

With accomplished skill, the siblings built a fire and prepared a meal. “Davy, our situation is serious. In my heart, I know God has a reason for this adversity, but I’m undone by it.”

“While you were looking in the hidden bottom, I was remembering all the stories I’ve heard about King David and how the Lord protected him. He protected us today, Abby.”

“Yes, He did.” Thoughts of the Wilsons and the old man that had rode up to warn them made her frown.

“You’re wondering why He let the others die. Aren’t you, Abby?”

“Yes, that thought came to me.” She did not want him to know how terrified she felt, but fear of the unknown was profound.

“Me, too,” he said. “I wish we had moved when Mr. Clark said we should.”

“All the wishing in the world won’t change a single thing, David. If it did, I’d wish for Pa to ride up in the morning. I’m some upset with him.” She began to tremble and cry.

“Please don’t cry, Abby. It’ll be much better when the sun comes back. I don’t like the dark either. Are you cold?”

“No. I’m sorry for the tears. This would be unbearable without you, Davy.”

“And Blazer, Abby.” They watched him pulling leaves from a bush and chewing, while his ears moved with the sounds around them.

“He knows we’re upset,” she said. “Put your bedroll at the back of the shelter and get some rest. I’ll sleep in the front, on a quilt.”

“Will you read Psalm 91 to me, Abby? Remember when Gram would read it to us, after Grandad died?”

Pain filled Abigail’s chest at his request. “Yes, I remember. I’ll do my best, but I want you to listen to the words and ignore my tearful voice. I miss Gram’s hugs.”

She was suddenly engulfed in his small arms. “I love you, Sis. Remember verse five. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flies by day.

She absorbed his love, and whispered, “Thank you.” She opened Gram’s Bible.

David fell asleep while she was reading, but she continued and felt peace filling her sad heart. She placed a quilt beside him, while she listened to the night life. It had never seemed darker. The tiny flames cheered her, as did the Bible she held onto tightly. Lord, please help us rebound from the horror of today.

David whimpered and jerked in his sleep. She reached over to pat him and responsibility overwhelmed her. This day had started with her mind seeking answers and direction. Now her head ached from the constant mental sufferings. Her heart cried out, Lord, still my raging mind, as You did the waves . . .  when Peter walked to you in the storm.

She wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and closed her eyes, as she strived to decipher the rustling woods so full of life. Nothing unusual concerned her. Blazer’s munching was a comfort, as was his nearness. She knew he also found solace in the fire.

Father, in the name of Jesus, I pray for Your protection. I thank You for this fire. The camp. But the woods block Your starlight and that frightens me. I feel so much closer to You, when I can see your stars and moon. The bodies lying back there in the open covered in blood . . . Lord, that terrifies me. Forgive me. I don’t know what to do.

I’m ashamed to admit that fear is overpowering my senses. Hold onto me, dear Lord. Control my mind. Scripture promises . . . if I trust You . . . with all of my heart . . . You will make my paths straight before me. Precious Lord, I have brought many things to You in prayer, but never have I needed You more than now. Please give me courage.

Proverbs . . . Your Book of Wisdom, dear Father . . . chapter three . . . verse five, six and seven. “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths. Be not wise in thine own eyes; fear the LORD and depart from evil.”

I claim this promise, Lord. Please make the path straight before me, as we leave this place tomorrow. If it is Your will, may I ask You to help Shadow make his way to us? David sets some store by that horse. I do, too.

I ask You to spread Your wing over us, as we sleep in Your shadow. Please protect us from all the creepy, crawly things, that I hear . . . especially snakes. From all danger, Lord. Suddenly, I’m so tired. Too tired to even be afraid anymore . . . or is that from You? I know it is, dear Jesus. Thank You. Amen.

The woods rang with birdsong as dawn appeared. Blazer nickered and woke them. It was returned, moments before Shadow came crashing through the brush. David scrambled over his sister to throw his arms around the black horse that loved him.

Tears thickened Abigail’s voice, as she whispered,” Thank You, Lord Jesus.”

When the familiar whinny of a mule started, both siblings exchanged looks of uncertainty, before jumping behind the shelter. The horses whinnied and a Wilson mule joined them. Abigail had drawn her gun and David held his sling shot with a stone ready to be released.

“Abby . . . is he alone?”

“I’m praying he is. I knew Shadow would come back as soon as he could, but I never dreamed one of the mules would come with him.”

“That mule must not be as stupid as Mr. Wilson thought,” he whispered, as they waited to see if the animals were followed.

“We can sure him,” she said, when she holstered her gun. “Now we won’t have to leave anything.”

David pocketed his sling. “He looks tired, but happy.”

“He can rest while we pack and eat. Get some wood, and roll up the beds. Someone may be tracking them. I’m going to run to the edge of the woods and check.” Her thoughts turned to God. Dear Lord, please wipe out the tracks. Amen.

After seeing nothing, Abigail returned to cook. They were eating when the horses and mule turned to watch a man ride into the clearing. He was on a buckskin and leading a black mule. “You children from that wagon?”

Abigail immediately took exception to being called a child, but she stood with her mouth open gaping at him. He removed his hat to reveal dark brown curly hair. He needed a shave and his faded clothes were dusty, but he looked friendly.

His twinkling blue eyes held amusement and respect, when he saw her hand on the gun she wore. “Cat got your tongue, has it?” A slight smile was on his lips.

“Certainly not!” she said, as her hand relaxed. “It’s just . . . well . . . you surprised us . . . and . . . well . . .” Her body wilted. “Is this your shelter? We’re ready to leave.”

“It’s not mine. Got any food left?” he said, as he rode forward and dismounted. He was a big man, with wide shoulders. He wore two guns strapped onto his narrow hips. “I could sure use some coffee.”

“We do mister. Abby makes the best coffee you’ll ever have and she can make most anything taste good. I’m David Cunningham. This is my sister, Abigail.”

“Keith Gladstone, David. Is that your family back there at the wagon?” He handed Abigail his tin cup.

“Companions, Mr. Gladstone. They were taking us to our pa,” she said. “We’re unsure about caring for the bodies.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.”

“What if that war party comes back?” David asked.

“They won’t. They got hold of some moonshine and the calvary had no problems with them.”

“Mr. Wilson called it his medicine,” David said. “How’d you find us?”

“The horse took off and I followed him. Horses can backtrack near as well as a hound. I wasn’t sure what he’d find back home and . . . ah . . . that’s a fine black horse and mule.”

“Are you in the calvary?” Abigail asked, as she handed him a plate.

“No. I happened to come along and noticed the horse slipping away. The mule followed him, so I figured they were together. They’re exceptional animals. I like black mules.”

“The horse is mine,” David said. “Abby told me he’d find a way to come back to me.”

Keith quietly ate his food, but his eyes missed nothing as he listened to David’s version of yesterday’s events. He noticed Abigail’s expressive eyes and wondered at the tug on his heart. Her hand trembled when she lifted the coffee cup to her lips. Suddenly, he knew there would be no going on for him. Not without her.

“Your brother’s right about your coffee and food, Miss Cunningham. Thank you.”

“Davy’s used to my cooking. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Would you like more coffee?”

“I’ll have one more cup, little lady and then attend to the graves. When I’m finished, I’ll come for you two and we’ll read words over them.”

“You don’t want us to help?” she asked.

“You could help me . . . by having a meal ready when I’m done. I have the fixings for a stew on my mule. Some cornmeal. That’s what I’d planned, but you may think of something else. I’ll let you decide.”

“I’ll probably just do as you ask, Mr. Gladstone. My mind’s befuddled. I have some hard decisions to make.”

“Later . . . maybe we can work on those decisions together.” He watched hope flare in her eyes, but when her soft, curving mouth opened in surprise, he studied her lips. Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he smiled at her astonishment, and the becoming blush.

David looked at Abigail’s startled face and then back at Keith. “We need to stay together. Abby and I can watch out for you while you work. She can cook the meal anywhere. We need to put the stock on some good grass.”

Keith looked at Abigail and raised his eyebrows. “How old is he?”

She smiled. “Barely eight . . . and he’s right. I feel claustrophobic in here. Let us come close enough to watch for you, and to keep you in sight . . . please.”

He was fascinated by her beautiful, tawny eyes focused on him. The foreboding he saw in them tormented his heart. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her. “Let’s get it done,” he said, and walked over to help them break camp.