ISBN 978-1-933523-19-4 print
ISBN 978-1-62268-003-0 e-book
LCCN 2006936689

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ECHOES FROM THE MIST
A town and a nation rise from the ashes of the Civil War
Author: Dody Myers
Publisher: Bella Rosa Books
6" x 9" Trade Paperback
Retail $14.95US

Chapter One

A hazy sun hung above the rolling Pennsylvania countryside on the afternoon of October 3rd, 1872. Abigail McKenzie sat astride her mare on a small knoll silently taking in the beauty of the nearby woods bursting with color—the oaks wine-red, the hickory a rich ocher, the maples pale honey, orange or scarlet. Beside her, Falling Spring Creek splashed and gurgled its way across smooth river rock. A half-smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she heard her husband's hammer pound a nail home in one of the fish hatchery pens he was repairing, and in the distance young Michael's voice rang out loudly as he shouted commands to his new border collie.
     The little mare stamped her feet and shook her head, eager to run, and Abby smiled at her enthusiasm. She patted Lady's neck then touched her heels to the horse's flank.
     "All right, girl," she said. "But take it easy. We'll run when we get to open pasture. I want Ford to see us leave."
     Abigail guided Lady along a well-worn path, past the corner of the house, down an embankment to the pond and springhouse, following the creek to the trout hatchery. Her husband was perched on top of one of the gates that separated fish in varying stages of development. He paused briefly and watched her approach. Ford was a tall man, whipcord-lean, broad shouldered, with grass-green eyes and a crooked smile. There was red stubble on his chin. His coppery hair was brushed back from a face of distinct hard angles into a ponytail. He wore stained bib-overalls, a denim shirt and mud-caked boots. She slowed, waved, pointed to the far pasture, and he raised his hand in acknowledgement.
     Abby turned Lady toward the open field where Michael, her eleven-year-old stepson was training his dog to round up cows for the evening milking. She relaxed in the saddle letting the mare pick her way. Corn shocks stood like silent wigwams against the sky, yellow goldenrod and wild blue asters colored the field. Bees hummed and birds trilled their song. She leaned back—patting her belly swelling with child—savoring the unhurried solitude. Thankfully, her two-year-old was down for an afternoon nap under her servant's watchful eye.
     She twisted in the saddle to look back at the farm she called home. Beyond the carefully tilled fields she could see her house nearly obscured from view by a stand of trees gaudy in their fall colors. It perched on a distant knoll like a beacon. The blue-grey limestone, mellowed by age, had become unbelievably dear to her. It was more than a house. It was a touchstone. A place of happiness and love for her and her family.
     "Why then," she chided herself, "do I throw myself headlong into all my tasks like there is no tomorrow. Why do I not tarry more, savor what I have?"
     She chuckled. Who was she kidding? She was impatient by nature—full of energy—eager to tackle any challenge. She was fully engaged in the management of their large, demanding truck farm and hatchery, the driving force behind the movement to build a memorial to the local veterans of the Civil War, and involved in school and local affairs.
     She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the brisk fall air before urging Lady forward. As they drew closer to the pasture she heard the excited barks of the collie as he raced to obey Michael's hand signals. A piercing shriek shattered the afternoon quiet. Lady's ears flicked forward and Abby bolted upright in the saddle. Another high-pitched shriek followed and then another. They were coming from the meadow. They were coming from Michael.
     He was running for dear life, their prize bull close on his heels.
     Lord have mercy, her mind screamed. What is going on? The bull was normally a docile creature; something had definitely riled him. He was charging, wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth. Raging toward Michael.
     Frantically, she dug her heels into her horse's flanks, and raced to help her stepson.
     "Run, Michael, run," she shouted.
     As she drew close, she wheeled about sharply and cut in front of the bull, slowing his momentum. Then, the blazing amber eyes turned from the terrified boy and focused on the horse. Without a pause the bull charged. Horns met flesh and Abby toppled to the ground.
     A rifle blast rent the air. A bullet found its mark.
     The bull staggered. A second shot brought it to the ground.
     With a moan, Abby rolled over to see Ford racing across the field clutching a smoking rifle, firing into the animal again and again. He hurled the rifle aside and dropped to the ground beside her.
     She grabbed her stomach writhing in pain. "The baby . . . oh, Ford . . . the baby."
     He gathered her into his arms. "Are you hurt?"
     She shook her head. "No, but I landed hard. . . . The baby . . ."
     He kissed her forehead. "It's you I'm concerned about, darling. Are you certain his horns didn't catch you?"
     Her eyes flew to the bloody body of her favorite pony. "Only Lady. She's . . . she's dead isn't she?"
     Ford's eyes took in the gored body of the horse, its entrails spilling onto the ground. "I'm afraid so."
     "Then . . . oh, God" She gritted her teeth with pain as another cramp struck.
     Just then Michael reached her, gasping for breath, tears streaking his dirty face. He sank to the ground beside her. "Abby, Abby! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
     Ford grabbed his shoulder. "She'll be all right, son, but you must help. Find Esau and send him for Dr. Richards. And bring blankets from the house. Hurry!"
     Trembling, Michael ran.
     Abby moaned as a fresh pain gripped her. The blood drained from her face. She knew the signs. She had suffered a miscarriage in the second year of her marriage and then, two years ago, suffered a very difficult pregnancy with Molly.
     Ford picked her up and began to walk. "Where the devil is that boy with the blankets?" he muttered.
     She clung to him sobbing. "Oh, darling. Pray we don't lose this child. We just can't."
     "Shhh, sweetheart. Everything will be all right."

But everything was not all right.
     Dawn streaked the sky as Ford watched the doctor descend the stairway from the upstairs bedroom. Dr. Richards, a round-bellied man with hair thinning at the temples saw him and stopped, his hand tightening on the banister.
     "I need to talk with you," he said somberly.
     Shutters still darkened the seldom-used room and Ford hastened to light an oil lamp to dispel the gloom. A sense of dread made his hand tremble as he adjusted the lamp wick. He was afraid to ask. Afraid to hear. Something had gone wrong. It was evident on the doctor's weary face.
     A cold fist closed over his heart. "What . . . what is it? Is it the baby? Or Abby? Is it Abby?"
     The old doctor removed his glasses and began to wipe them. "Abby lost the baby, but she should recover. Of course, there is always the risk of infection and she lost a lot of blood. She's very weak." The doctor's eyes grew sympathetic, his voice gentle. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Ford, but another pregnancy is not possible."
     Ford sank into a chair. Despite the coolness of the room a film of sweat covered his forehead. He wiped wet palms on his pants. "Are you sure? Why?"
     "Her pelvis bone is fractured and her female organs injured."
     "But she is going to get well? There is no further danger to her?"
     "She will need your prayers. Depression over the loss of a child can sometimes be more devastating than the physical aspect. See to it that she has your support."
     "I will. I will. And we still have our beloved Molly." A perplexed look passed over the doctor's face and Ford added hastily, "And, of course, Michael."

©2007 Dody Myers

ECHOES FROM THE MIST
Author: Dody Myers
Bella Rosa Books
6" x 9" Trade Paperback

Retail $14.95US; 232pp

ISBN 978-1-933523-19-4 print
ISBN 978-1-62268-003-0 e-book
LCCN 2006936689

larger view of cover
book details
read the first chapter
buy the book

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