The Fugitive Son (27 page)

Bidding farewell to Chief Kanosh and the villagers, Andy headed off toward the mesa Kanosh had pointed out. He had a freshly drawn crude map of the general direction he was to follow south and stern instructions to stay away from the roads and trails that were heavily traveled, both by settlers and the army. “You safer on Indian trails,” Kanosh had assured him.

His supplies reinforced with pemmican, buffalo jerky, and plenty of water, Andy knew he had enough provisions to last for several days. After that, he would be hunting and foraging for sustenance until he reached Santa Fe.

He rode across the Wasatch Plateau, down to the Abajo Mountains in extreme southeast Utah, and far away from the Mormon settlements. Enjoying the scenic wilderness and solitary peacefulness, he thought often of the mighty Creator who had designed this rugged beauty. Whenever he stopped to rest and water his horse, he pulled out the Bible. He couldn’t seem to get enough of it, and the scriptures seeped into his very being.

Riding through the amazing rock formations and past ancient Indian ruins, he was in awe of the ever-changing landscape – towering sandstone monoliths, red rock spires, deep canyons, and sheer cliffs. Surely the Creator loved variety! So why would he design a religion that had all men thinking alike, acting alike, and obeying a so-called prophet with one voice? Andy had been taught that the existence of so many different denominations in Christianity proved they were all false. That’s what Joseph Smith had claimed God told him in his first vision when he was called as the prophet to restore the real religion – one that expected its followers to walk in unquestioning lock step with the prophet.

Could it be just the opposite? Could the many Christian denominations prove that God wanted men to use their free will, to engage their minds as they worshipped him in accordance with their historic traditions, while still sharing a oneness in belief?

Andy stopped and scanned a cliff, looking for the trail Kanosh had drawn. Squinting at the upper slopes of the mountains, he glimpsed the bare suggestion of a trail snaking along toward the rim. He was well out on the mesa and could make it to the bottom of the trail before dusk closed in, he figured. Maybe this was the place Kanosh had pointed out. The place where the big river met the mesa. It would be a good place to make camp, the chief had said. “Plenty of game by the river. Good rest and eating.”

As he followed the narrow trail off the mesa, Andy sensed his horse picking up speed and rushing toward the bottom. He knew horses usually did that when they smelled water. Hopefully, his instincts were right and the river he sought was nearby.

Rounding the last bend at the bottom of the trail, he heard the unmistakable gurgle and splash of water bubbling over rocks. He had found the river and the trail south! He looked up toward heaven and whispered a prayer of thanks. Just around the bend, he drew in his breath at the spectacular scene. Tall, red cathedral-like rocks rose above a copse of trees against a glorious lavender and pink sunset. At the base, red sand stretched along a beach strewn with tumbled rocks. The entire scene was reflected in a quiet pool that formed beyond a tiny island.

While his horse took its fill of the cool water in the river, Andy gathered twigs and branches from the cottonwoods that grew along the bank and built a small fire. Kanosh was right. This would be a good place to camp for the night. Pondering the beauty of the area and the greatness of the Creator once again, Andy was startled by a thrashing in the bushes. Surely Pa hadn’t followed him this far! He peered into the shadows of the bushes. Considering the possibility of a mountain lion, he drew his gun.

“Please don’t shoot! I need water,” a deep-throated voice gasped. Weaving and lurching, a gigantic black man stumbled into the circle of firelight. His clothes hung in tatters. His bloodshot eyes stared out from a gaunt face. “Don’t shoot!” he begged again, his voice croaking before he fell, just missing the fire.

Andy rushed to the man’s side and slowly poured water between his blistered lips. Taking a bandana from his saddlebag, he dampened it and gently soothed the stranger’s face. After what seemed like hours, the man began to show signs of life. Andy continued ministering with the life-giving water, bathing his skin and lips and trickling small amounts of water down his throat.

“Thank you,” the man mumbled. “I didn’t think I’d make it another step.”

“Can you eat anything?” Andy offered him a bowl of jack rabbit stew and a hunk of hardtack bread.

Grabbing the food eagerly, the man replied, “Haven’t had food for days. Not much game out there in those red hills.”

“Careful you don’t eat too fast,” Andy warned. “You have to take it slow and let your belly adjust to food again.”

As the food and water began to energize the man, the two wanderers introduced themselves. Andy, careful not to reveal too much, offered his name and destination. “Going down to Santa Fe to start a new life,” he said. “Heard there’s lots of opportunities down that way, a good climate, and a bright future for a body who wants to work hard.”

“Isaac Condit,” the stranger responded, offering his huge hand. “Headed to Santa Fe, too – going to meet up with my family from Kentucky. Got separated from the wagon train and been trying to find my way ever since.”

“Looks like we can keep each other company, then. Are you afoot?”

“Lost my horse day or two ago when I was stumbling around in the wilderness looking for water. I’m praying he smelled the water and will show up down here at the river.”

“Well, I’m in no hurry, so we can wait a day or two for him.” Andy tossed another branch on the fire. “Looks like you could use a rest.”

Isaac readily agreed. “Seems like a good place to camp. Lots of water and probably game along the river. Sure beats anything up on that flat, open mesa. Pretty as can be, but sure of no practical use to anybody.”

Andy watched as Isaac piled some leafy branches near the fire. “Traveling light, aren’t you?” he asked, noting the absence of a bedroll or blanket. “Is your gear on your horse?”

“No gear. Nothing.” Isaac briefly told his story, how he and Elsie had wagon trouble and he had taken her horse to try to catch up to the wagon train. “Reckon anybody can see I’m a black man from the South, and that means only one thing – a runaway slave.” He hastened to add, “But I’m not a runaway. Mr. Condit gave me my freedom in his will, and I was helping his daughter get to Santa Fe to meet her brothers. The Condits are the closest thing to family that I’ve got. But the fact that I’m a free man didn’t stop the bounty hunters who captured me on the trail.” Staring into the flames, Isaac fell silent.

Andy flipped him a spare animal skin from his pack. “Gets mighty cold out here at night. You’ll need this.”

Isaac nodded his thanks. “About froze to death last night. Didn’t even have a way to build a fire. Thought for sure I’d be a feast for the mountain lions. But I prayed God would protect me like he did old Daniel in the lion’s den.”

Andy hadn’t had much experience with slavery, but the man’s story rang true. He especially liked the reference to the Bible story. “You talk like you know the Bible.”

“Know it, love it, and try to follow it. Don’t have one with me, but Mr. Condit taught me so much about the Bible and helped me memorize many passages. It comforted me a lot these past few weeks.”

Andy pulled out the Bible Major Crawford had given him, the one that had come to mean so much to him already. “What say we read some of it here by the fire before we turn in for the night?”

Isaac eagerly accepted the offer, and the two sat down to nourish their souls in God’s Word. Andy quickly saw that his new friend did, indeed, have a deep knowledge of the book. He began asking Isaac many of the questions that had come to him as he had meditated alone. He discovered Isaac was a fountain of answers, an able mentor, and a stalwart believer.

The moon’s reflection in the river waned, causing Andy to look skyward in surprise. “We’ve talked most the night!” he exclaimed. “We’d better get what sleep we can before the sun rises.”

It seemed he had barely spoken those words when daylight came, the sun poking over the horizon, bathing the rock spires in golden light. Andy gently shook Isaac. “Look! Over there by the stream!”

Isaac shot up. “He came back! My horse came back!”

The magnificent black stallion stood drinking from the quiet pool, his reins dangling off his neck. He raised his head and sniffed the air, then trotted over to where the men were resting by the fire. Nuzzling his nose against Isaac, he seemed as happy to see his rider as Isaac was to see him. “Thank you, Jesus!” Isaac exclaimed. “He knew this tired, weary body was not up to walking any more miles in the wilderness, so he sent my horse back to me!”

He patted the horse’s neck, then took the apple Andy proffered and gave it to the horse. “Haven’t seen one of those in a long time, have you, Pepper?” The horse eagerly munched on the apple, then nuzzled around Andy’s shirt pocket, as if looking for more.

“Sorry, Pepper, that’s the last one until we reach civilization,” Andy said as he patted the steed. “If they even have a store with fresh produce where we’re going,” he added.

“If Elsie made it safely, there will be a mercantile,” Isaac asserted. “She’s one determined woman, and if anybody can run a store, it’s her!” He paused, deep in thought. “Her brothers have a horse ranch not far from Santa Fe, and her goal was to put in a big emporium to catch the military trade as well as the travelers along the Santa Fe Trail. She has big plans.”

“But didn’t you leave her alone with a broken wagon? How could she manage the rest of the trip alone?” Andy asked.

“Oh, she wasn’t alone,” Isaac responded. “The good Lord has been with Elsie all her life, and he wouldn’t abandon her out on the trail. I’m sure he took her on across. That’s why I didn’t try to go back after her when I escaped the bounty hunters. I knew they’d just follow me and capture me again, and the Lord told me just to keep going till I met up with her again in New Mexico Territory.”

Andy considered his new friend’s words. “That sure took a lot of faith.”

“Not so much. God has always been with me. Accepting his loving care is as simple as breathing to me.”

“I used to have a strong faith,” Andy admitted. “But my faith was in the Mormon prophet. I didn’t have that daily trust in Heavenly Father that you have.” He began to share with Isaac some of his doubts and experiences of the past year, experiences that, when spoken aloud, seemed shattering. Isaac’s silent sympathy and concern drew out the whole sordid story, especially when Andy confessed he was escaping Deseret because of Pa’s intent to kill him.

Isaac was aghast. “That sounds worse than slavery!” he exclaimed. “Masters have been known to shoot escaping slaves, but not many do. They consider the slaves too valuable to shoot. But for a father to shoot his son!” Isaac whistled in amazement.

“It’s sure set me to thinking about things,” Andy said. “But it’s also confused me. Sure wish I had faith like yours.”

“The Bible tells us not to put our faith in men, or even in ourselves. Faith is only as good as its object. For instance, if I have faith that the low-hanging branch on that cottonwood over there” – Isaac pointed to a scrawny, barren branch across the stream – “would hold me so I could climb the tree, how high up in the tree could I go?”

Andy laughed. “You wouldn’t get very far on that skinny stick. Both you and the branch would come tumbling down.”

“Exactly. No matter how hard I believed it, or how strong my faith was, it wouldn’t help me get up the tree. I need something sturdy and strong, big enough to hold me.”

Pointedly looking over Isaac’s huge body, Andy laughed again. “Holding you would take a pretty strong branch!”

“Right! Same is true with faith. There are many religions out there. Mr. Condit told me once that religion means ‘re-connecting.’ It’s man’s way of trying to reconnect with God. Man has tried all kinds of ways, starting with the Tower of Babel. Have you read that story in Genesis?”

Andy nodded. He vaguely remembered the story of the people trying to build a tower to reach heaven. But it didn’t work and God scrambled the languages. “I think God showed them that it’s impossible for men to reach heaven on their own.”

“Right. So it makes sense that God, the Creator, would provide a way to re-connect with his creation. Mr. Condit used to say, ‘Religion is man trying to reach up to God; true salvation is God reaching down to rescue man.’ The old devil doesn’t care how much religion we have, just as long as we do it our own way. But he sure doesn’t want us doing it God’s way!”

Eager to learn more of Isaac’s simple beliefs, Andy suggested they take another day to rest in their peaceful campground. “We’ve got enough food to last a few more days, and there’s no immediate hurry to get anywhere. After your ordeal, you probably could use a little more rest.”

Isaac staked Pepper in a grassy spot near the water. The two eager Bible students sat near the clear, flowing stream while they read Major Crawford’s Bible, following his references. Isaac called on his memory of all that Mr. Condit had taught him to instruct this seeking disciple.

“Seems to me you’ve learned a lot about what your prophet said, but not much about what God says,” Isaac began. “So let’s start in the beginning.” He opened the Bible to Genesis and read the story of Adam and Eve, pointing out that from the first sin, God’s plan of salvation demanded the shedding of blood.

“When Adam and Eve sinned, they tried to cover up their sin with fig leaves, but that was the wrong cover. They stood by and had to watch as God slew an innocent animal – I’d guess a lamb – and shed its blood because of their disobedience. From then on, God insisted on blood sacrifices of innocent animals – the innocent for the guilty.”

He flipped a couple of pages and read the story of Cain and Abel. “What was wrong with Cain’s sacrifice?” Isaac asked. “He gave the best he had, the best fruit and vegetables he had grown. Why didn’t God accept Cain’s offering?”

Andy thought for a minute before answering. “I suppose because his heart wasn’t right.”