And Caroline fell on her knees, diving for Kennedy’s forgotten rifle. Scrambling to her feet, she trained it on the tableau of Pace, Jenny, and the intruder. Could she do this? King David had protected his lambs from the lion and foxes. She had shot foxes in her own henhouse. Jenny was a lamb…The thoughts ran through her head, over and over, like a wheel.
“Get your hands off Mr. Williams now,” she said, though the voice sounded like someone else’s.
The drifter stepped back, but only by a few inches. “Whoa, now, pretty lady. You even know how to fire that thing?”
“I do and I will.”
Michael took advantage of the man’s surprise to punch him in the stomach. The man peeled off from Pace and Jenny. With a strangled sound, he tackled Michael, and the pair of them tumbled to the earth, rolling, first Michael on top, and then the drifter.
The drifter’s hands closed around Michael’s throat. Michael turned blue, his eyes bulging, as the man pressed his dirty fingers into his windpipe.
And Caroline fired.
The drifter rolled back in the dirt. His eyes, still feral, gazed up at her. “Didn’t think you had it—” His head rolled back and he was still.
Caroline was trembling, and her teeth chattered. The rifle clattered to the dirt.
Michael enfolded her in his big body. “There, now. You had to.”
“I killed a man.”
“‘Twasn’t a man,” Michael murmured into her hair. “Not anymore.”
She could have stayed in his arms all day.
But Pace was moving toward the horses. “I got to ride on ahead,” he said. “Got to get Jenny to Whitman. You two follow with the wagon and the extra horse.” He passed Jenny to Michael, who held her while Pace swung up on Rebel.
“He’ll behave for me,” he answered their unspoken question. “‘Cause I’ve got Jenny.”
Michael handed Jenny up, and Pace wheeled around and cantered out of the canyon.
A hawk swooped low and rose again, gliding across the cold October sky. In the silence, she heard woodland creatures come out of their hiding places, skittering across the dead leaves. And Michael grinned down at her. He was dirty, disheveled, and exhausted, and he’d never looked more welcome. “Mrs. O’Leary,” he said. “Would you be helpin’ me bury these unfortunates, and then will you ride beside me into the Promised Land?”
Caroline tucked her arm in his. “Sure, and I will,” she said.
34
The door creaked, despite Caroline’s best intentions, but Jenny didn’t wake.
Marcus Whitman, the physician turned preacher turned pioneer, must have given her a really strong sedative. Or maybe she’d finally let down her defenses. In the dim light filtered in from the guest room shutters, she looked younger than her almost eighteen years. She slept on, the wariness and the bitterness drained from her face.
Caroline guessed that at least one of Jenny’s demons was laid to rest. That was enough for now.
Jenny had awakened once in the night, to peer over at Caroline in the other bed. “Are we really here?” she’d murmured.
“Yes, Jenny, we’re here,” Caroline had whispered back.
The real work lay before them, the staking of claims, felling of trees, carving out their own places in this vast land. But “here” was enough for now.
Narcissa Whitman was assigning chores to her brood of adopted children. Blonde, buxom Narcissa had taken Pace’s crew in yesterday and fussed over them, despite her fading eyesight and the needs of her own family. She’d served them hot food, drawn the first hot baths any of them had seen in months, and listened, chuckling with awe, to the tale of their ambush in the mountains. “Would you like some breakfast?” Narcissa called over the heads of her children. She was braiding the hair of a small girl.
“Maybe later. I need to get a little fresh air,” Caroline called back.
Narcissa patted her daughter’s head and crossed the room to Caroline. “How is your friend this morning?”
“She’s sleeping,” Caroline said. “She seems comfortable.”
“Good. She had a rough night. I came in to her once. You never woke up. She was talking in her sleep, something about a bear. A white bear. Did you see one on the trail? Maybe it frightened her.”
Caroline shrugged and smiled. It wasn’t her story to tell, or to finish.
Waillatpu, the Whitmans’ mission station, had everything they could want, especially after six months of trail life. But the four walls of the mission home seemed to close in around Caroline. Would she ever even be able to live in a house again, after six months under canvas? She pulled her shawl from a peg by the door.
The mission station was actually a small working farm, with a grist mill, blacksmith shop, and fields plowed under for winter. Mountains dusted with snow loomed in the distance. In the crisp morning air, Marcus Whitman, Pace, and an Indian man huddled around a glowing forge. Whitman seemed to be instructing the native man.
Pace raised a hand in greeting.
Another tall form stood with his back to her. She joined him at the split-rail fence marking off the mission’s gardens. Beyond them lay the Oregon Country and a place to call home.
Michael turned, and his face lit up at the sight of her. “‘Tis glad I am to see you up and around.”
He was freshly shaven, his black hair slicked back with water, the blue eyes sparkling in his tanned face. He was too bright, even for this morning but she couldn’t look away.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Not a scratch, really. I got the best of it. All I needed was rest.”
“And Jenny?”
“She’ll be sleeping for a while. And I see Mr. Williams is helping Dr. Whitman at the forge.”
“They’re old friends. I heard them talking well into the night.”
But what do we have to talk about, Michael? She leaned her elbows on the fence.
They gazed out at the rich land. A person could live here. Really live. They were silent for a few minutes.
Caroline laughed softly.
“What is it?” Michael demanded, alert to every change in her moods.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just,” She faced him. “We were lovers first, and then we became friends on the trail, and now we’re brother and sister in Christ. Seems to me we’re living our lives backwards.”
Michael touched her hair, a tentative gesture, unlike his bold moves in the past. “‘Tis forward I’d rather be going.”
“Yes.” But she had to know, first. “Michael, tell me again it’s true. Tell me you know Jesus.”
Michael clasped her hands, and his big laugh rang out over the mission station. “I do, acushla. I do. He’s taken me, with all my failings, and there’s some even you don’t know about, and He’ll never let me go.”
“Was it because of me?” A conversion to please her, it was worse than none at all.
“Not the way you’d be thinkin’. I didn’t become a Christian in order to ‘gain’ you. That would have been a lie and you would have known before I put a ring on your finger.”
“Then how?”
“It’s been building for a long time. It started when I saw what Daniel did for you. For us. And I settled it when that wagon pinned me and I saw your tears. You cried for me, Caroline. After all I’d done to you.”
“It wasn’t that much,” she murmured, and suddenly she believed the words with all her heart. She looked up at him. “So. What does ‘forward’ mean for us?”
He was solemn for once, the booming voice hushed. He dropped to his knees. “Will you marry me? ‘Tis not out of pity, it never was. I love the woman you’ve become, even more than the girl you were. Caroline Pierce O’Leary, will you do me the honor of taking me as your husband? Will you take me as I am, then, with all my strengths and my failures, and will you make a life with me in this new land?”
“I will.” She waited for him to rise, to seal their promise with a kiss.
But he didn’t, and she saw that the huge shoulders were shaking.
She dropped to her knees beside him. “Michael?”
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “Or any of this. I’m not good enough. I’m not Dan.”
She gathered him into her arms, pouring her strength into him. “Michael, none of us is good enough. I’m not. Neither was Dan. But God’s love covers it all.”
“I can’t bring them back.”
“No. But you’ll see them again. There’s a land that is fairer than day, and even fairer than this. And I love you, Michael. I love you so much.”
She let him sob for his mother, for Oona, for their baby, for their precious Dan. When he was done, she drew them both to their feet. “Michael, let’s find Dr. Whitman. He can marry us tonight. And then let’s go home. To our home.”
A Devotional Moment
…to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me. ~ Acts 26:18
Forgiveness is one of the most important commandments about which Jesus preached. The Christian who forgives has a peaceful heart and can lay to rest all the harmful emotions that can sever their relationship with God. God is love, and love always forgives. We know that when Jesus taught us to pray, He said we’re to ask God to forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and so we must cleanse our hearts of any rancor that may destroy us. When we forgive, we show that God’s love outshines any worldly sin. The burden we carry is gone. The door is opened for Grace to enter—both in our lives and in the lives of those who’ve harmed us.
In Westward Hope, the protagonist has much to forgive and cannot do it. Feeling abandoned, she is unable to find solace in any person or in any place. As life unfolds around her, she must fan the tiny flame of hope buried in her heart so she can find her trust in God, trust in her fellow human beings, and be happy again.
Is there someone who has done wrong to you—a friend, co-worker, family member? Do you find it difficult to forgive them for that wrong? Perhaps you thought you had forgiven them, but each time you think about the incident, hurt feelings rise to the surface again. Remember that forgiveness is an action, not an emotion. You can choose to forgive, even if your feelings contradict that action. Strive to be an example to others of how powerful the love of God is. In so doing, you may turn others’ hearts to the endless promises that God offers.
LORD, PLEASE FORGIVE MY SINS AND TEACH ME TO FORGIVE THOSE WHO HAVE SINNED AGAINST ME. IN JESUS’ NAME I PRAY, AMEN.
Thank you
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May God’s glory shine through
this inspirational work of fiction.
AMDG
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