Page 80 of The Heart’s Charge

The horse was too big. Too strong. Too . . . unpredictable. At least from the porch, she had the height advantage. And the protection of the railing. Down on the ground, she’d have neither.

The illustration from the Bible storybook she’d been reading to the children flashed in her mind. A boy facing a giant. A boy wearing no armor except his faith. A boy who refused to let fear keep him from doing what needed to be done. The Lord had granted that boy victory.

“God will help you too, if you believe in him.”

The words she’d just spoken in the parlor thrust themselves into her mind in blatant challenge. Did she believe?

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear,” Eliza murmured, jutting her chin and releasing her grip on the balustrade, “but of power.”

A spirit of power. She repeated the phrase in her mind with each descending step that made her smaller and the horse larger.

A spirit of power. Coming alongside the shuddering beast, she lifted a trembling hand and placed her palm flat against Augustus’s shoulder.

He didn’t jerk from her touch. Didn’t rear up in defiance. Just stood still. Waiting.

Eliza ran her hand along the saddle, over the stirrups, the saddlebags, searching for some clue to explain what had happened to Jonah. Unfortunately, the only clue was the horse itself.

As if sensing her reticence, Augustus curled his neck around and nudged her firmly with his nose. Eliza hopped back, a whimper catching in her throat.

A spirit of power.

Augustus followed her, stepping sideways until the empty left stirrup brushed her belly. He craned his head around again, his deep, dark eyes boring into hers. Quit being a sissy and mount, they seemed to say. I’ll take you to him.

Lord, have mercy. She was going to have to ride this giant. If there was even the slightest chance Augustus could lead her to Jonah, she had to try.

“Abner?” she called without looking away from the saddle looming large in front of her face.

The parlor window scraped open behind her, confirming her assumption of having an avid audience.

“Yes, Miss Eliza?”

“You’re in charge until Miss Katherine gets back from town. Keep everyone inside and lock the doors.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The window slid shut.

Eliza took a deep breath, then reached for the saddle horn. “You’re going to have to help me, Auggie.”

The horse snorted, probably in offense at the child’s nickname she’d given him, but Auggie sounded far less fearsome than Augustus, Roman war commander and emperor.

“Don’t give me any sass,” she said, pretending a courage she did not feel.

She eyed the stirrup. Raised her foot. Nope. Too high. She needed a mounting block—which, of course, she didn’t have. Botheration. The front steps would have to do.

“This way,” she urged, tugging on the saddle horn as if she were actually strong enough to move the beast. Surprisingly, though, he complied, pivoting until his left side stood flush with the stairs. “Good boy.”

She needed about three steps’ worth of height but could only manage two without backing too far away from the horse.

“Steady, Auggie.”

Hiking up her skirt and petticoats, she raised her left foot and, after a pair of unsuccessful attempts, managed to find the stirrup. Hopping on her right leg, she made a grab for the saddle and hoisted herself up and over. The most graceless mount of all time, but she was on.

The ground seemed impossibly far away. Dizziness assailed her, but she set her jaw and focused on Auggie’s head. Get settled and get Jonah. With an awkward wiggle to adjust her seat, Eliza found the second stirrup, then took up the reins that had tangled in Auggie’s mane.

David had a sling. She had a saddle horn. And she planned to hold on to it for all she was worth.

“All right, Auggie. Easy now.” She clicked her tongue and tugged the reins to the right with one hand while clinging to the horn with the other.

The moment the horse’s head faced the road, however, something shifted in him. She could feel it. Tension. Energy. Purpose.