Bright Tomorrow (American Century Book #1) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Gilbert Morris

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145 pages

English

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Meet the Stuart family: eight children raised in the hills of Arkansas by their godly and determined mother, Marian, who does her best to lead her children to Christ. But as her three oldest, Lylah, Amos, and Owen, each decide to go their own ways, none seem to follow the path Marian has laid out for them.Set at the turn of the twentieth century, this first of the American Century series tells the story of a time of growth and opportunity. Filled with historical figures such as Theodore Roosevelt and James Randolph Hearst, this fascinating book will draw readers into the exciting events of the time and the lives of the family it follows. As the Stuarts mature, so does a young nation racked with uncertainty and growing pains of its own.Previously published as A Time to Be Born

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 août 2005
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781585586202
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0259€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 1994 by Gilbert Morris
Published by Revell a division of Baker Publishing Group P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287 www.revellbooks.com
Previously published in 1994 under the title A Time to Be Born
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means for example, electronic, photocopy, recording without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-58558-620-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
To my wife, Johnnie Fifty-four years together– and I’ve enjoyed every second of it!
C ONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
PART ONE (1897–1898)
1 Escape from the Mountains
2 A Christmas Time
3 A Room in New York
4 A New Arrival
5 Rose
6 Encounter at the World Theater
7 “Remember the Maine!”
8 San Juan Hill
PART TWO (1899–1900)
9 Rose Finds a Charming Man
10 Lylah Goes Home
11 Decline of a Woman
12 “From the Guttermost to the Uttermost!”
13 Out of the Past
14 The Fists of Righteousness
15 Home at Last!
PART THREE (1905–1908)
16 Death in the Hills
17 Night at the Carnival
18 Allie
19 “I’m Not Your Sister!”
20 Wings of Silk
21 Everything Changes
PART FOUR (1909)
22 A Deal with Rocco
23 “You’re Not a Little Girl Anymore!”
24 The End…and the Beginning
Hope Takes Flight
About the Author
Books by Gilbert Morris
Back Cover
T HE S TUART F AMILY
Part 1
1897–1898
1
E SCAPE FROM THE M OUNTAINS
O wen Stuart never forgot the day his sister Lylah left the farm to go to Bible school in Fort Smith. The date September 4, 1897 stuck like a burr in his mind, and he often wondered why he could remember that date, but could never remember the dates of wars or treaties or when famous people were born. Dimly he understood that Lylah’s departure was a landmark occasion in the Stuart family history, for she was the first of the young ones to leave the remote recesses of the Ozarks for the world outside.
But though he always remembered the brilliance of the fall afternoon and the flaming colors of the hills that surrounded their farm that year, it was the memory of how he had found his sister her bags packed to go to Bible school, out behind the barn smoking a cigarette that had stayed with him.
Owen had gotten up early, unable to sleep, and had crept out of the loft where he slept with his four brothers Amos, Logan, Pete, and Gavin. The rustle of his corn shucks mattress seemed deafening in the stillness, but he made his way to the door and crawled down the ladder into the main room, then left the house.
He loved the early cobwebby hours of the morning and was always the first to rise. A sharp pinching cold lay over the valley, the foretaste of winter, but he loved the air, thin and raw and bracing, containing the rich rank odors of the earth and the forest. For an hour he walked the trails that led away from the house, looking up from time to time to the thin glitter of the stars. The earth, still and motionless, seemed to be a dead ball rolling through dead space, but Owen was acutely aware of the movements around him the patter of tiny feet, the rustle of brush as large animals passed through, the flutter of wings.
Finally at four, a first skim-milk color diluted the coffee-black shadows, and he made his way back to the farm. And it was then, as he left the trees that banked the log cabin in the rear, that he caught the smell of smoke.
At once he stopped, alert and careful as any animal, before he moved, catlike, to the barn. It was only a small affair, poorly built of rough-hewn pine beams and sheathed with slabs picked up from the mill. Even as Owen circled it, he noted that it was listing more than ever against the five thick saplings he had placed against the north side to brace it up. Without realizing it, he was stirred with a faint sense of dissatisfaction. Looks like we could have a barn that could stand up by itself. A vague thought of his father came to him, and he shrugged slightly, thinking, I guess as long as Pa can find a party to fiddle at, this ol’ barn’s gonna have to take care of itself.
The acrid odor of smoke led him to the rear of the structure, and as soon as he turned the corner, he saw the indistinct outline of a figure, low to the ground, and then: “Hello, Owen…come and have a draw.”
A smile tugged at his lips, and he moved forward until he could make out the features of his older sister. She was hunkered down on her heels, back braced against the wall, and he chose that same position before answering.
“Guess you’re up early to do your prayin’ before you leave for Bible school.”
Lylah Stuart was closer to this brother than to anyone else in the family. She grinned, recognizing the gentle jibe in his statement, then handed him the cigarette. “Sure. Have a draw, Owen.”
Owen took the cigarette, studied it for a moment, then took a long pull on it before handing it back. “Better than rabbit tobacco…or dried corn silk,” he remarked. “Where’d you get a real cigarette, Lylah?”
“From Bob Briley…at the dance last week.”
“Bob never gives anything away,” Owen said, his voice clear in the cold air. “I can guess what he wanted in return.”
A glint of humor lit Lylah’s eyes and her lips turned up in a smile. “That’s right. You know Bob pretty well.”
She drew on the cigarette again, and as she expelled the smoke, Owen studied her. She was the handsomest member of the family, one of those truly beautiful girls who spring up among the hill people of Arkansas from time to time, almost as noticeable as an albino deer. Lylah had a wealth of auburn hair, a short English nose (as did all the Stuarts), full lips, a rich complexion, and a pair of violet eyes deep, wide-set, and striking. She had come to womanhood early, and even the coarse homemade brown dress could not disguise the full roundness of her figure.
“Well, do you think Bob got what he wanted?”
Accustomed as he was to his sister’s directness, Owen felt uncomfortable with the question. Although he was only fourteen, he had been aware for a long time that his sister drew men as nectar draws bees. But he refused to show his embarrassment. “Naw, I reckon not, Sis.”
Lylah reached over and ruffled the boy’s thatch of chestnut hair. “Glad you still have some confidence in your rowdy sister.”
They sat there, comfortable with the silence that lay between them. As the sky grew brighter, they smoked and watched the world come to light. Finally a door slammed, and Owen rose to his feet in a single smooth motion. He had passed from babyhood, suffering little of the awkward stage that most boys struggle through one day a baby, Lylah thought as she watched him, and the next a lath-shaped young man who was one of the most physical people she’d ever seen.
“Who is it?” she whispered, preparing to crush out the cigarette.
“Amos.”
Lylah relaxed and, leaning back against the wall, waited as Owen hailed softly, “Hey…Amos, over here.”
Amos Stuart, the oldest of the children at eighteen, looked up, saw Owen, and came at once to his brother’s side. “Come on,” Owen said, a grin on his lips. “Sister’s holding services.”
“I’ll bet she is,” Amos remarked, and followed Owen to where Lylah sat. “If Ma catches you smoking,” he said, settling down against the rough siding of the barn, “she’ll burn your backside.”
“She won’t catch me.” Lylah offered the cigarette, adding, “This is the last time I’ll ever hide behind the barn to smoke.”
Amos drew the smoke into his lungs, handed the cigarette back, then remarked, “You’ll have to hide someplace. I don’t reckon they allow smoking at Bible school.”
“That’s their problem.” Lylah shrugged.
“You’ll get sent home,” Amos argued. He was the logical member of the three, thinking things out carefully, whereas Owen and Lylah both leapt and then thought. He was no more than five ten and weighed less than 135 pounds. Lean as a hound, pared down by hard work, he was stronger than he looked. He had the same oval face, blond hair, and dark blue eyes of his mother.
“I’m never coming back here,” Lylah announced flatly. “Except for a visit.” She reached over and grabbed her brothers’ hair, pulling them close in a gesture of affection. “I’m going to miss you two,” she said, and despite the roughness of her caress, both Owen and Amos sensed a faint thread of apprehension in her voice.
They were very close, these three closer to each other than they were to anyone else in their small world. Amos was close to his mother, but not in the same way that he was tied to these two who sat beside him in the growing light of dawn. Being more introspective than either of the others, he had thought much of what it meant Lylah’s departure. Moved by the plaintive note in her voice, he asked, “Lylah, why are you doing it going away to Bible school? You don’t have any more religion than a coonhound.”
Amos’s comment caused a quick flare-up of the temper that lay near the surface. “I guess I’ve got as much religion as you have, Amos Stuart!” she snapped.
“Well, that’s nothing to brag about.” Amos shrugged. “I never put up my sign for a preacher, and that’s about all they put out at Bethany Bible Institute.”
Owen shook his head, for he had been dreading Lylah’s departure since hearing of it. “You’ll go crazy, sister,” he urged. “I know Ma gets on your nerves, all the time making us go to church…but you know what Don Satterfield says about that school.” He pulled his lips together in what he considered a good imitation of the young man, his voice high-pitched with a twang: “Why, we get up and pray before dawn every day …and sometimes we pray all night! And there ain’t no worldly stuff allowed…like smokin’ and drinkin’ and play-actin’.”
Both Amos and Lylah giggled over the rendition. Satterfield, a lanky young man who had g