Patricia Gunn Hall

In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.

The following is an excerpt from my first novel. It is a story about making plans and discovering that God is already directing “thy paths,” as Proverbs 3:6 states. My character buries her grandmother beside her grandfather and mother. She holds out hope that her father is alive and that she can find her only known living relative. This Side of Heaven is now available on Barnes and Nobel.

Waking up had shattered the comfort of having her precious grandmother back form the grave. Grief and anxiety overwhelmed her soul as the false world faded. Disheartened, her lavender blue eyes filled with tears and she looked out of the window towards heaven. “Lord, it hurts. It hurts soooo much.”

The stars revealed that daylight was a few hours away. She lay with her honey-colored hair spilling over the pillow listening and deciphering the language of nature. Old Pa had understood that tongue well and he had made sure his granddaughter could interpret it.

Nocturnal creatures made their presence known with cheeping and chirring and creaking. An owl close to the cabin called to its mate. The answering “hoo, hoo-hoo, hoooo” down by the creek was a repeat of, “I’m over here.” Not even the owls were alone. Breezes in the trees were singing the same melody that had lulled her to sleep.

Dreading the lonely hours before dawn and hearing nothing amiss, she snuggled under the covers hoping to resume her dream. A whine cut through the familiar chorus of God’s music. It was soft and hopeful. She held her breath, wondering if she had imagined it. This time it was louder, pleading for her attention.

Throwing the covers aside, she reached for her gun and looked out of the open window. Moonlight revealed a small wolf. It barked a demanding yelp when she looked into its eyes. It would run a few steps and come back to whine. Clearly that creature wanted her to follow it.

Seeing no signs of sickness for this strange behavior, she pulled on her trousers and boots, before strapping on the gun belt that her grandfather had made for her tiny waist. Gram’s voice was warning her that, “curiosity was fraught with dangers.” Ignoring the advice, she followed the wolf down to the creek.

It ran to a large man lying on the bank. Hearing Skeeter, her chestnut mare, snort was a comfort. As always, she had followed her. Blood covered the man. Fear paralyzed her. The wolf started barking and dancing beside its master and broke the trance.

Groans confirmed that he was alive. He began to struggle as he tried to get up onto his knees. She knelt beside him and a large, strong hand fastened a tight grip onto her left wrist. Startled, she began talking as calmly as possible, but the urge to pull away was too strong.

“I want to help you! You have to let go of me,” she said sternly, while wondering if she should just shoot him before being overpowered.

Old Pa’s voice was warning her about the power in this stranger. He had instilled, “Your strength is in your brain honey child and your trigger finger. Don’t get close enough for a man to get the upper hand.”

Seizing her gun’s handle, she stopped struggling. His grip remained the same. “Your wolf came to get me. I’m Summerlynn Campbell. My grandmother was a healer. If you’ll trust me, I’ll help you stand . . . get you up to the cabin . . . take care of your wounds.”

His grip no longer hurt, but her wrist was not going anywhere without him. Skeeter whinnied and another horse answered. She drew her gun as a dark brown and white spotted horse materialized out of the woods. It was saddled. The reins were trailing.

“Mister, I live not far from here. We need to get you back on your horse. Do you understand the problem? He’s close by, but I think the smell of blood is making him nervous.” She tugged on her wrist again.

“You have my word as a God-fearing woman. I will not leave you. I need to get your horse beside you . . . get you on him. You must let go. Can you understand me?”

He did not let go, but as her words settled into his brain, she felt him relax. He whistled and the horse was beside him. Releasing her wrist, he reached for the stirrup.