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Welcome Are Lands is a story of the American frontier, and how the land's promise of limitless opportunity and wealth transformed the lives and shaped the characters of its settlers. The Shevleys of Maine "go west" to Minnesota Territory in the 1850s to cut the timber that will help build a nation. But in the struggle to tame the northern wilderness and found a great city, the family is torn apart. Just as Minnesota lumber still may be found in homes across the Great Plains, so does the emotional legacy of the family's tragedy extend into the lives of succeeding generations.
"I tried to save her, Stephen. As God is my witness, I did everything I could. But it was an impossible delivery, a difficult breech birth. There was no way I could save them both. Sarah knew it—she insisted that the child be given life. She made the choice, Stephen; I did my best."
The accumulation of the past week—the hardships, the shocks, the sorrows—all struck him at once. His tears flowed in a torrent and he uttered a plaintive cry of grief. Staggering to Sarah's bedside, he fell upon his knees as the others in the room stepped aside. The young priest, an assistant to the Rev. Charles B. Knickerbacker, came to him and placed his hand upon his shoulder. Stephen buried his face in the coverlet and wept uncontrollably. Then he brusquely shrugged off the consoling hand and looked into the serene face of his adored wife. She was indescribably beautiful, surrounded by an aura of profound contentment. The slight smile on her lips left no doubt in his mind that the doctor was right: it was her choice to die that their child might live. He saw at once the awful bond that tied him to his father, and to his father before him, just as old Williams had said many years before. It was indeed a prophecy come true. His grandmother had died in childbirth, his mother had died forsaken, and now his wife had been taken in childbirth. He had forsaken her when she needed him most. Burdened with guilt, realizing that she was gone forever, he kissed the lips that once were so warm and pliant. Then he stood erect and uttered a blood-curdling cry of agony, a demonic cry that summed up all his grief and pain, his guilt and sorrow. He fell to his knees and slumped against the bed as the others rushed to his side, lifted him up and led him to a chair. With tearful eyes he gazed at them from the depths of his personal hell, from that netherworld where once before he had found escape from suffering and pain, the dark and lonely place from which only she had been able to rescue him.
"A brutal blow," muttered the doctor. "If only there had been some way to intercept him, to prepare him."
"May God's mercy be upon him in his hour of grief," intoned the young priest.
"Pray for him, pray that he doesn't slip away from us again. He's been through so much already in his young life," said Ames.
"It is God's way of testing him," said the priest with pompous assurance. "The Creator is preparing him, strengthening him for some greater calling. In His wisdom He has laid these burdens upon him. Oh, God of Love, help they servant Stephen to see the goodness and the love that lie in Your ways. Help him to be thankful for the days of joy he shared with his beloved soul mate. Help him to be grateful that she has now been called to Your peaceable kingdom to bask in the glory of Your righteousness forever. Amen."
There was a penetrating power in the priest's voice that reached to the depths of Stephen's despair. But it brought no relief to his aching heart. Rather it inspired him to such a fury that he suddenly threw off the shell into which he had retreated, leaped from his chair, and flung himself upon the startled clergyman, grabbing his throat with both hands. The priest let out a cry and struggled toward the door, terrified by the frenzied attack. The doctor, equally surprised, fell back, gained control of his fear, and then moved in to pull Stephen off the hapless clergyman.
"Control yourself, Stephen, for God's sake!" he shouted.
"You dare to speak to me of God's love, you damned hypocrite! Even to mention the goodness of God in the face of this monstrous injustice is unforgivable. Get out of here, both of you, and take your mawkish lies with you. Sell them to the poor, weak souls who need to believe such nonsense. I'll have none of it! God doesn't reign in this house; death and the devil rule here. Get out, and leave me alone."
With a powerful thrust he sent the priest reeling toward the head of the stairway where he caught hold of the railing and clung to it for dear life.
"Stephen!" shouted the doctor. "For the love of all that's holy, get a grip on yourself. Have you gone mad?"
"Don't speak to me of madness, you cringing coward. It was you who allowed her to die when you might have saved her. Get out, and damn your soul to hell!"
"Wait, wait," he whispered. "Be calm. Think of the infant—your child, Stephen. You must think of your daughter now. With her last breath Sarah pleaded with me to save the baby. She laid down her life for that child."
"No, take it away. I never want to see it. No life is worth the life of my Sarah. Take it away."
The doctor and the priest retreated down the stairway under Stephen's vicious glare and joined Mrs. Carpenter and Marie in the front hall. The front door was open and Charles Whitcomb stood in the opening aghast. "What in God's name is going on?" he asked.
"Sarah's dead," said Ames, "but the child survived. Stephen's gone absolutely berserk."
"I'm not surprised," said the editor sadly. "He just brought his father's body back from the pineries. Vincent Shevley is dead, too. And to come home to this . . ." |
