“All our wives are in danger if we do not repel these ships.” The harried man met his gaze, new lines in his face and the weight of the city visible on his shoulders. “Distribute the barrels of gunpowder around the fort. Take all the men you need.”
Thad turned away, aware of the many sets of eyes on him, waiting for his word. Aware of the men feeding the next rounds into the guns, of the shouts reporting where they had hit. Aware that if he disobeyed, it would undermine the fragile unity they had so carefully crafted.
To whom do you answer?
He heard the whisper in that corner of his spirit where the Lord always spoke. Heard it and felt a thrill. “You, Lord,” he murmured under his breath. “Tell me to go. Tell me to save her.”
But instead he felt that hand upon him, holding him in place. Am I not able?
The next round blasted from the guns and shook them. Shook him. Of course the Lord was able. He was able to protect the fort, the country, these men he called brothers and neighbors. He was able to repel the British.
Arnaud stepped in front of him, his brows, as always, drawn. “Thad?”
“We need to empty the magazine and distribute the gunpowder.” The words came out strained, clipped.
His friend stepped nearer. “What about Gwyneth?”
Lord, what about Gwyneth?
A rumble of thunder crept across the sky. Am I not able? Must it be you?
He squeezed his eyes shut. Lord, please, don’t ask this of me. Ask me to do anything, to say anything, to go anywhere, but not to do nothing while my beloved needs me.
Lightning flashed in the distance, a flicker compared to the muzzle flash from the British guns. I knew her before she was in her mother’s womb. I loved her before her lips could form My name. I called her beloved, just as I called you.
“Thad?”
He couldn’t speak, afraid that if he tried, he would choke on his words. But he strode toward the magazine. And he saw Gwyneth’s eyes, frantic and terrified. God!
A return blast from the bomb ships, another quake through the fort’s foundation. Can you love her more than I? Can your hand save her better than the one that formed you?
He lifted his hand to the door of the magazine. It trembled. “Will, Reggie, give me a hand. Alain, gather a few more men.”
The room was large and dim, but he knew Armistead was right—the single layer of bricks between the shells and the three hundred barrels of gunpowder provided no real protection. He grasped the nearest one and rolled it out the door. He has come for her, Lord. He has come and I am helpless.
Reggie, his jaw ticking and worry in his eyes that went well beyond the screech of an incoming shell, took the barrel from him. Philly. Thad whispered a prayer for her as he caught his brother-in-law’s gaze. “Reg?”
He swallowed. “There is nothing I can do there that I cannot do here. I will pray.”
Thad released the barrel to him and turned back inside. I know You can keep her safe, Lord. Keep us all safe. But I also know You do not always choose to. Like Peggy, like Alain for those terrible years. And I…I cannot bear if Your will is to take her from me. Please. Let me help.
He rolled another barrel out. And the clouds must have parted, for a shaft of light angled through…the roof? He moved further in, to where the sun reflected off something metallic. Something long and shell shaped and taunting in its presence. “Ordinance.” Panic pounced until he realized that if it were going to explode, it would have done so long ago.
The entire fort, all these men, could have—rightly should have—been destroyed already. The major’s concerns ought to have been proven right in a fiery explosion.
But the Lord had preserved them.
You do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world. So how do you fight them?
Amid barrels of gunpowder and that one terrifying shell, he dropped to his knees. “I know You have it all in hand, Father God. I do. Us here, Gwyneth, Philly. But it is so difficult to practice what I believe. To give it all to You when I want so much to act.”
Footsteps gathered outside. “We are ready, Thad.”
’Twas as if the Lord chuckled in his ear. Then act, my child. Where you have been placed. Do what you have been called to do. And trust Me.
He touched a hand to the enormous shell and then rose. Much as he wished he could, he could not claim any unnatural peace. His heart still strained toward home, toward Gwyneth. The shot still whistled overhead, the noise still filled him till he feared he might burst.
But he rolled another barrel out, and he whispered a prayer.
When darkness fell and torrents of rain came, he hunkered down with his brothers and recited a prayer.
When the night refused to end and the British refused to halt their shelling, he led the men in the hymns that joined the deafening thunder as a prayer.