Beyond the Quiet Hills by Aaron McCarver Read Free Book Online

half opening his eyes as the familiar shapes of his room came into focus. He stared at the white ceiling, which sloped from one end of the room down to meet two small windows along the back wall. The dark blue and burgundy curtains stirred gently as the frigid morning air seeped into the small upstairs bedroom. He studied the burgundy wallpaper, decorated with tiny figures of animals in dark blues and greens, and his eyes swept around the room and took in the familiar images—the hardwood floor covered with the rag rug his grandmother had made, the oak tester bed that dominated the room, the walnut dressing table covered with a snowy white quilting, and the Chippendale easy chair covered with dark green horsehair.
    â€œSixteen years old.”
    Jacob spoke the words aloud and stretched, his lean body pushing against the top of the heavy bed frame, and thought about how he had looked forward to this day. Somehow, when he was just a child, he had decided that when he got to be sixteen he would be fully grown, a man, and had even announced this to his grandparents. His grandfather had smiled at him and said, “Sixteen seems a long way, Jacob, but it’ll be here before you know it.” Well, now it was here, and he tried to examine his feelings. From downstairs he could hear the sounds of people moving, and from the window, which was cracked open, despite the cold, he heard the clatter of horsehooves as a wagon rumbled by on the street outside.
    Finally he threw the quilts back and shivered at the bite of the cold air. Quickly he dressed, putting on a pair of heavy wool pants and a cotton chambray shirt. He moved over to the washstand, added fresh water, bent over, and bubbled and spewed as he washed his face with the icy water. Then he straightened up and looked into the brass-rimmed mirror fastened to the wall beside the washstand. What he saw was a carbon copy of his father. His grandfather had told him that he looked almost exactly as his father had when he was a young man. He had the same dark, wavy hair and dark blue eyes that his grandmother had told him about. At the age of sixteen he was only an inch short of six feet. He was lean and wiry and had the same cleft in his chin that his father had.
    He had noticed all the traits he shared with his father when Hawk had come last year to visit. Every moment of that single visit was etched in his memory. He remembered when his father had left again and had not offered to take Jacob with him. He remembered weeping bitter tears as he watched from his window that day. He had not wept since then, however, but the thought of his father always brought a mixture of anger and regret.
    A knock at the door startled him. Whirling, he said, “Come in, Grandma.”
    The door opened and Esther Spencer stepped inside. She was a small woman of fifty-nine, and her brown hair was now streaked with gray. She had light blue eyes and a pleasant smile, as always. “Breakfast is ready, Jacob. But first I came to wish you a happy birthday.”
    â€œThank you, Grandma.” Jacob went over and put his arms around her. She was so small, she seemed almost like a child. He leaned over and kissed her cheek and squeezed her. “Sixteen years old! A full-grown man!”
    â€œWell, we’ll see about that. It’s not a matter of years, but how you behave.” Esther tried to be firm, but it was impossible for her to be very strict with Jacob. She reached up and stroked his cheek, murmuring, “You’ll be shaving soon.”
    â€œI already have,” Jacob grinned. “Last week. Feel the stubble?”
    â€œMy, think of that!”
    â€œI think I’ll raise a beard that will come down over my belt, like a mountain man.”
    As soon as he said this, he thought of his father, and some of the light went out of his eyes. Nevertheless, he pushed the feeling away. “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!”
    â€œWe don’t have horse this