Stories of Life From the Family Bible

By Doreen Milstead

Belinda’s Beloved Family Bible, is a story about a young Irish heritage woman traveling across the Oregon Trail and headed West, with her single parent father. Her mother had died giving birth to her and the treasured family bible held her only memories. On a rugged river crossing the bible is lost and Belinda doesn’t notice until later, when her father--who’s the wagon master--is unable to stop. Distraught, Belinda jumps off the wagon and runs towards the river and back into unknown territory. By the Grace of God - Put in charge of the family ranch while her father is out on a cattle drive, a young woman discovers a man asleep in his bedroll by a lone campfire. Exodus from Bondage - While traveling west in a wagon train, some problems force the train to stop near a large plantation in eastern Texas. The manager of the train said they needed to stop a while because he needed to go into a town to get some parts for repairs. Little did Amanda realize how this would change the course of both hers and some other people's lives, as they waited. Grief and pain hit her when she saw a small group of slaves working a field. This was before the Civil War. A Healing Way - A widow fights a constant battle over insecurity and danger as she travels west on a wagon train.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Hart
• Release date: Jan 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463028490

Book preview

Stories of Life from the Family Bible

by

Doreen Milstead

Copyright 2020 Susan Hart

Table of Content

Belinda’s Beloved Family Bible

By the Grace of God June Finds Rico On the Prairie

Exodus from Bondage

A Healing Way

Belinda’s Beloved Family Bible

Synopsis: Belinda’s Beloved Family Bible, is a story about a young Irish heritage woman traveling across the Oregon Trail and headed West, with her single parent father. Her mother had died giving birth to her and the treasured family bible held her only memories. On a rugged river crossing the bible is lost and Belinda doesn’t notice until later, when her father--who’s the wagon master--is unable to stop. Distraught, Belinda jumps off the wagon and runs towards the river and back into unknown territory.

IN 1845 Caelen MacLeese found herself alone in the world, her clan’s sole survivor of the Great Irish Famine, and branded an un-provided for girl. Without a dowry Caelen knew marriage options in Ireland were bleak so she purged what little she owned in exchange for passage aboard a freighter bound for America.

With nothing but the MacLeese family bible and the clothes on her back, she left the only home she had ever known in search of a better life. Her journey would carry her across the Atlantic Ocean to the land of opportunity – a land, she had heard, where the streets were paved in gold.

Scared, penniless and alone, it was God’s word that sustained her.

CAELEN FIRST CAUGHT Patrick’s eye at Sunday mass, shortly after she had settled in Savannah with help from the Sisters of Mercy. She found refuge at the Convent and Academy of Saint Vincent DePaul. Under Mother Vincent Mahoney, Caelen was given a place to sleep and food to eat in exchange for work as a domestic in the school and orphanage the sisters founded.

She was a waif of a girl herself, who sat in prayerful contemplation, always alone in a rear pew at Sunday mass.

Patrick, having recently moved to Savanna from Charleston, was eager to make friends. Before he ever had the opportunity to grow to know her, the mere look of the lass had plucked at Patrick’s heartstrings.

He’d made several unsuccessful attempts to capture her attention, and evening engaging Father Darraugh to make a formal introduction failed him. She was skittish, he noticed and rushed off as soon as mass ended, her eyes darting here and there as if expecting something terrible to happen around life’s next corner.

Or perhaps, he thought, she simply was avoiding him. At once intrigued and exasperated by this curious young woman, he abandoned the dictates of social etiquette and mustered the courage to introduce himself without the aid of a neutral third party.

Excuse me, miss, he addressed as he approached her and removed his cap.

She met his gaze briefly before dropping her chin to her chest. She stood frozen, head bowed, arms wrapped around her as if to ward off a chill in the air and staring intently at her own shoes.

Patrick moved closer to her and continued to talk. He grew increasingly nervous as it began to occur to him that he might actually meet her. For once, it seemed she did not plan to rush off as had been her habit in the past.

My name is Patrick Hill, he explained. "Please pardon my forthrightness. Twice now, following Sunday mass, you have ignored my earnest attempts to engage you in a proper introduction made by Father Darraugh.

I’m afraid you do not share my interest in friendship or worse perhaps my attention has offended you in some way? If so, please forgive me. I was born in Charleston and only recently came to live in Savannah. So, you see, my eager pursuit is merely a symptom of a desperate need for companionship.

It is my hope you will consider a friendship between us and that you might even be willing to help me find my way in this city."

Caelen MacLeese looked up. Patrick Hill stood before her, his twinkling blue eyes giving way to a hopeful smile on his lips. It was in this moment that Caelen realized she was lonely too. Patrick Hill was not the only one of the two of them in desperate need of a companion.

Mr. Hill, she said--her brogue barely above a whisper, I assure you; you have not offended me in any way sir, but I am afraid I cannot help you.

She saw Patrick’s expression changed from hopeful to disappointed and an idea planted itself in her head.

I am barely settled in Savannah myself, having arrived here from Ireland less than three weeks ago, she bit her lip to stifle an erupting smirk that threatened to spoil her teasing. My name is Caelen MacLeese and I am in much greater need of a companion than you Mr. Hill. Patrick cocked his head, confused by Caelen’s surprise admission.

I suppose it is I who should be enlisting your help, sir, she punctuated her teasing by allowing a mischievous smile to reveal itself, to help me find my way in America.

What good fortune for the both of us, then! Patrick proclaimed, unable to hide his delight, It would be my honor to explore Savannah with you and anywhere else that pleases you, Miss MacLeese. He laughed, replacing his cap and offered her his arm.

And likewise, Mr. Hill. Caelen accepted Patrick’s acceptably intimate gesture by sliding her hand up and hooking her own arm through his.

He patted her hand gently as it rested in the crook of his elbow and together they embarked on their first of many pleasant Sunday strolls.

ALTHOUGH PATRICK HILL was born in America, he and Caelen shared much in common. While Patrick’s family had immigrated nearly a century before Caelen arrived on American shores, he was no stranger to the hardships of immigrant life. His Irish Catholic family afforded migration to colonial America in the 1740s by way of indentured servitude and recompense took several generations.

PATRICK AND CAELEN’S friendship blossomed into a whirlwind romance. They were married within two months of first meeting and soon God blessed them with a daughter.

Sadly, complications during childbirth took Caelen’s life. Within one short year Patrick Hill met, fell in love, married and lost his beloved wife. He felt convinced, were it not for this tiny and helpless baby daughter, that his grief would have consumed his body and soul.

From the first moment the Spanish-born midwife laid his precious baby in his arms, Patrick knew he would do anything to protect her. He had never seen a more beautiful creature in all his life.

Caelen had refused to discuss names before the birth of the baby, claiming it was bad luck. At the midwife’s urging, he named her Belinda--an odd name according to her grandparents and aunts and uncles, for a little Irish girl.

SIXTEEN YEARS LATER Belinda Hill sat beside her father, her mother’s bible resting in her lap, as the covered wagon in which they rode ambled westward along the Gila River on the Southern Emigrant Trail. They were on the way to a new life in a new land.

Her father, Patrick Hill, served as wagon master for the wagon train, which meant they weren’t simply traveling. They were leading a caravan of thirty-five horse-drawn wagons on a six-month migrant trek from Savannah to California.

Under the best conditions the wagon train traveled twenty miles a day. In poor conditions when the route involved crossing rivers, climbing hills or worse, if Patrick was forced to circumnavigate a portion of the trail that proved too rocky or muddy to traverse, the day’s toil might result in less than five miles.

Belinda met the news of this adventure with a mixture of trepidation and enthusiasm. Savannah was the only home she had ever known and she dreaded the mere thought of leaving. Her mother was buried in Savannah.

How would she ever feel close to her mother if she were forced to move away? Belinda yearned to know her mother’s love in the tangible way that other children took for granted. To feel love in her mother’s embrace or a gentle kiss on the forehead, to hear love in hushed lullabies whispered softly at nightfall.

She thumbed the pages of her mother’s bible. The familiar feel of onionskin on the tips of her fingers coupled with knowing her mother had once held this very same bible close to her heart filled her with both joy and sadness.

And then when Belinda’s heart ached in knowing her own birth had been the cause of her mother’s death, as it often did, it was papa who’d taught her to find solace in God’s word

Find the Gospel of John, Belinda-love, her father would say, now find verse 13 in chapter 15 and read it aloud to me.

Yes, papa. John. Chapter 15. Verse 13. Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

Belinda dreaded the thought of what this new adventure held. She might never again nap peacefully on the soft, sweet grass that blanketed her mother’s grave. She might again never set flowers against her mother’s headstone.

She might never find another way to feel physically close to the mother she had never known. Her heart was heavy with sorrow and yet, she respected her father’s wisdom.

AS A YOUNG man working in Charleston, South Carolina, Patrick belonged to the Irish Volunteers who fought to defend the Catholic minority as well as the free schools, established by Irish-born Bishop John England, for free African- Americans.

After moving to Savannah, Patrick remained politically active and outspoken. He favored abolishing slavery and preserving the Union, which he admitted publicly. When the southern states declared secession from the United States and formed the Confederate States, Patrick knew war was imminent.

His public and vehement opposition of slavery left him two choices: To join the Union army and risk leaving his daughter parentless or to participate in the expansion movement to the western frontier.

He chose the latter and organized an emigrant party from Savannah comprised of Irish Catholics committed to pursuing a new life while helping to establish a strong church community in the young, prosperous state of California.

As their departure drew near and her father began the enormous task of preparing for their journey, Belinda found she’d begun to anticipate the ensuing adventure with growing enthusiasm. By the time the wagon train set off for California Belinda swelled with more excitement than she was able to contain.

Papa?

Yes, Belinda

What will we do in California? She had heard about the gold rush and wondered if they would live their lives seeking gold in California streams and riverbeds. She envisioned a gold nugget the size of apples they would sell for enough money to buy a plantation of their own.

Same thing we’ve always done, pet, he answered signaling the horses with a snap of the reins and a throaty, Ya!

Will we pan for gold, Papa?

No, Belinda-love, he chuckled at his daughter, a subtle reaction she took to imply he was not taking her seriously.

Papa, she demanded his attention. There is money to be made in panning for gold. Why would you think me joking? You say we will do what we have always done, but how can we work the land if we have no land to work?

I have a little money saved, enough for a parcel to grow cotton or wheat or something else of your choosing, Belinda. The climate out west makes for longer growing seasons and bountiful harvests indeed. We’ll be fine, pet, and we won’t be wasting our time on anything as foolhardy as panning for gold.

Wasting our time? Ha! You are willing to settle for a parcel when one gold nugget and we’ll have enough to afford a whole plantation, papa. Please? Can’t we try?

Patrick chuckled again