Only Through Victory

Chapter 13

Winter approached at an expedited pace. Silence covered the land. The cheerful duets of crickets and songbirds no longer graced the forest surrounding Annabelle's tiny town. But no matter how silent the outdoors had grown, the inside of the church had its own way of further stifling noise. Even when she lived alone, Annabelle never cared for silence. Especially, the deafening silence of domesticity. If she was to live in a house, or any structure for that matter, she wanted it to be filled with laughter, song and of course, the freedom and encouragement for recitations and conversation. Reverend Chelsea offered companionship, yes, but that seemed to be the extent of it.

She missed her father more and more with every passing day. He sent her a letter before the holiday season, asking her to forgive his absence. The second letter that Solomon sent in January, however, caused her greater pain.

Her lessons were moved to the schoolhouse again. She'd integrated her life into the community once more- or rather, as much as Annabelle and the townsfolk would allow. In the early evenings after her lectures were over, she would bundle up, collect her post and take Rascal out for a brief ride. The evening that she received this message was no exception. Except, of course, for the anticipation of reading her father's words once they reached the quiet hilltop where Annabelle had grown accustomed to reading both books and her post while Rascal nosed around for soft grasses amidst the frost.

She slid off of Rascal's back, plopped down on the driest patch of ground that she could find and tore into his letter:

My Dearest Daughter,

In less than two week's time, I will be fighting in the front line of what has been deemed the war's most decisive battle. To say that this summon does not terrify me would be a lie. However, knowing that I have someone to write home to- especially someone as brave as you, has granted me a sense of courage that I have been so desperately needing; while the knowledge that I have your prayers grants me a divine and precious sense of comfort that I will carry with me onto the battlefield. Please know that I am still praying for you and your William. I am almost certain that he and I will be sharing the field. It is my fondest hope that the three of us will be together someday soon and that we will graced again with the gift of family that we have both been desperately lacking over the last year. Remain joyful. For your joy has always been my greatest treasure.

Your Father,

Solomon Casey

At this point in her life, Annabelle was becoming very skilled at listening for current events. Most of the news that she received about the war was by way of gossipers on the streets or in church. She knew about the impending battle. Since Solomon's letter needed time to be delivered and the words of the townsfolk didn't indicate otherwise, she knew that it hadn't happened yet.

Before leaving, she held the letter close to her heart and prayed silently for her father... and for her William. She thought of him often, yes, but at this point, William Tavington seemed like nothing more than a pleasant dream she'd dreamt long ago. The incredibly thin hope of a future with him had been tucked safely away. It was too fragile, too precious for her to take out and admire. Until she learned of his fate, she forced herself to remain indifferent to the matter, save for the conversations that she had about him with God.

She decided that a longer ride would help her to clear her mind this evening. So, after allowing Rascal and herself enough time to rest up and enjoy the view, the pair headed into the forest and followed the stream for a while. The cold air was clear and easy to breathe for the most part, but after heading half-a-mile downstream, Annabelle's nose filled with the familiar and unpleasant scent of a burning building. Since the season called for woodfires in almost every household, she assumed that one might have gone awry. No more than ten minutes later, her suspicions were confirmed: on the horizon, a large structure; possible a ranch house was all ablaze with amber flames; large billows of smoke poured into the sky.