Journey to the Well: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

arranged the marriage to save her pride? Was it revenge? Against Marah or Zibeon? He would not consider it revenge. She had seen it in his eyes. He wanted her.
    Overwhelmed at the revelation, Marah barely heard Reba’s final words.
    “We will have guests this evening for your betrothal ceremony. The wedding will take place when the harvest is in.”
    Marah only nodded her head dumbly and looked away lest Reba see what she knew.
    Reba turned toward the marketplace. Marah looked back and watched her as she walked briskly down the road, and fought the hatred that burned like a fire in her belly. It was only about seven months until harvest. Reba was not even going to give her the full year of betrothal!
    After checking once again on the rising dough, she quickly tucked her mantle into her girdle and grabbed her staff. Calling to the sheep, she began to lead them hurriedly toward the hillside. She knew where to find the wild mustard, and Jesse.

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    T he young shepherd sat on a rock and looked out over the sheep without seeing them. He was tall and slender with warm brown eyes beneath a shock of golden blond hair. The hair was a rarity that occurred infrequently among the Samaritan tribes. His high cheekbones and firm jaw were accented by the scowl that creased his face.
    The scowl seemed to melt as Marah approached. He jumped up eagerly. “You have not brought the sheep for many days,” he said with a forced smile.
    “Reba would not let me leave the house. She was feeling ill.”
    “She is ill when it pleases her,” Jesse growled.
    “Oh Jesse, let’s not quarrel. I came to talk to you. I have sad news.”
    Jesse looked away from her toward the hills, his fists clenched tightly. “It is all over the village that you are to marry the sandal maker.”
    “I am afraid of him. I know God chooses His own way, but I had not wished for Zibeon. I had thought . . . I thought . . .” She searched his face beseechingly as he turned back to her.
    “I did speak to my father,” Jesse said slowly. “It was too late. Reba had accepted the bride price from Zibeon and agreed to the marriage. I didn’t know. If only I had spoken sooner, if only . . .”
    Jesse told her of the scene with his father the night before.
    He asked his father to go to Reba and speak for him. It all seemed so simple. They would not be surprised in his choice, for Marah was favorable in their eyes.
    “I know we are poor,” Jesse told his father earnestly, “but they are also poor and I know you can reach a bride price her aunt will accept. Now that their property is sold, I do not have to worry about the Levirate law. I will work hard to take care of her.” He had looked at his father confidently, sure that they would follow his wishes.
    A look passed between his parents and Jesse was bewildered as his father hesitated before speaking.
    “Is she not acceptable, Father?”
    “She is truly an acceptable maiden, my son. Had you spoken earlier, I would have gone without hesitation. But it is not possible to speak for her now.”
    Elon looked sadly at his son, and put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “She is betrothed as of this day, to Zibeon, the sandal maker.”
    “No!” Jesse cried out from the depths of his soul. “No! How can this be? She would not choose Zibeon . . . When could this have happened?” He searched one face and then the other.
    His mother spoke gently, “The village has known since this morning, my son. Zibeon boasted that he had waited for her and the bride price would be acceptable to her aunt. The mohar is more than we could possibly pay. Two hundred forty shekels! There is nothing we can do.”
    “Two hundred forty shekels? Reba has sold her to Zibeon! How could she do this?” Jesse cried to his father. “There must be something you can do!”
    Jesse’s father drew himself up and looked at Jesse sternly. “My son, it is God’s will. You must now not covet that which belongs to another. Reba has the right to arrange a