Mandy and the Missouri Man

by Linda Ford

  Mandy brushed dust from one pant leg then leaned back on her elbow, observing the man. It was good to hear he might have regrets.

  “I need to find Trace and tell him I left them. But there’s more.” He stared into space. “I was involved in something that hurt Trace. Hurt his sister and his parents. People I love.” Slowly, as if he had to force the words from his lips, he told the story that Mandy had already heard. But Austin’s version differed.

  “I arranged for Trace to be absent so he wouldn’t try to stop them. I thought I was doing him a favor. You know, preventing him from trying to defend his family and maybe getting shot. I thought they only meant to force Mr. Owens to provide them with food and supplies. When I heard what they really intended, I tried to warn the Owenses, but two men held me back. By the time I managed to get free, the house was nothing but a pile of ashes. And Trace was threatening to take justice into his own hands. I think the only reason he didn’t was because Cora needed him at her bedside.”

  The story shocked Mandy to the point she couldn’t think.

  Austin let out a gust as if his lungs hadn’t released air for several minutes. “By the time Cora was able to be left alone, the wheels of justice had determined the fire was an accident. They got away with murder. I left and went north, trying to find a place where I could escape the war and my accusing thoughts.” Another deep sigh. “Escaping yourself isn’t possible. I did a lot of soul searching. Spent a lot of time on my knees seeking forgiveness. I met a preacher man who assured me God could and would forgive anything. Finally, I found a degree of peace.” He rubbed his chest absently.

  He’d found the answer to guilt. The same answer must surely apply to hate and unforgiveness. She wanted to grab him and drag him to see Trace this minute. But she still wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  “So you are wanting to start over again with your friend?”

  “I don’t know if it’s possible. How could he ever forgive me for my part in this? But I need to tell him I’m sorry. I never meant for it to happen. I need to ask his forgiveness.” His voice dropped to an agonized whisper. “Even if he’s not willing to give it.”

  Mandy considered her options. Was this an answer to prayer for Trace’s healing? If she didn’t take the man to see Trace, she faced two possibilities—Austin might find Trace through someone else and go to him, or he might leave on the ferry, and Trace would miss this chance to deal with his problem.

  She made up her mind. What better person to help Trace than the man who caused his hurt? “I know Trace.”

  Austin burst to his feet and faced her. “You know him? Where is he?”

  “Come on. I’ll take you.”

  As she led the way, he almost ran over her.

  ❧

  Footsteps approached the camp. They weren’t taking any pains to be quiet, which meant they either didn’t know someone inhabited this part of the hill, or they knew and had no interest.

  Nevertheless, Trace grabbed his rifle and waited.

  Several times men had approached but had quickly departed when they realized Trace wasn’t prepared to be welcoming.

  Cora didn’t head for the tent but pulled on her bonnet as she remained seated on a log. No doubt she expected the men to pass.

  Men? He cocked his head. One voice sounded like a woman. In fact, it sounded like Mandy. Was it getting so bad he couldn’t hear a woman and not think of her? Yes, it was. If only he could feel free to love her fully.

  All his pleading with God for an answer had yielded nothing.

  He heard them leave the path and head toward the clearing. He moved forward to meet them.

  They stepped away from the trees.

  He fell back. Every muscle in his body spasmed with shock. Somehow he found his voice. “Austin. Why are you here?” He half raised his rifle then lowered it. Shooting the man would not ease his anger. “Mandy, why are you with him?”

  She signaled the man to hold back and crossed to Trace’s side. “He’s been looking for you to say he’s sorry. You need to hear his side of the story. Hear how God forgave him. He can help you.”

  Roaring fires of rage seared his veins. “God might forgive him, but I never will. Get out of here. Both of you.” He waved the rifle like a club. “I never want to see you again. Either of you.”

  Austin took a step closer. “Trace, hear me out.”

  “I’m not interested in anything you have to say. Get out.” He drove them away, ignoring Austin’s pleading to listen and Mandy’s begging eyes. They disappeared through the trees.

  “Traitors, both of you,” he called after them.

  He breathed hard, unable to think beyond the shock of seeing Austin and the horror of knowing Mandy had brought his enemy right to his new home.

  He spun around to face the house. All but finished. But he’d find no peace here now. Mandy’s presence would haunt him everywhere he turned. Muttering angry words, he grabbed up the saddle bags. “Start packing.”

  Cora didn’t move.

  “Did you hear me? We’re leaving. Get your stuff together.”

  “Trace, you aren’t being rational. This is our new home.” She nodded toward the house. “We can’t leave.”

  “We’ll find somewhere else. Maybe we’ll find a place where people aren’t traitors.”

  She still didn’t move. “People are the same all over. Some-times they are evil. Sometimes they simply make mistakes.” She rose and crossed to face him squarely, her arms across her chest. “And sometimes they actually want to help. But you have to give them a chance.”

  “I’ve given all the chances I intend to give. Pack your things. There’s at least three hours before dark. We’re going to take advantage of it.”

  “What if I say I’m not going?”

  He stopped his furious stuffing of things into bags. “You think you can manage on your own?”

  “I could live at the stopping house.”

  “And let all those men stare at you?” It was cruel but necessary.

  Her face crumpled, but she did not cry. “Trace, you have a problem.”

  “I’m aware of that.” The only solution for it was to move on.

  Cora packed reluctantly. He saddled the horses and hung their belongings on each. They mounted and headed for the ferry, arriving in time for the last crossing north.

  He expected to put a goodly distance between themselves and Bonners Ferry before he’d find a place to camp for the night.

  “Where are we going?” Cora asked, a good deal of exasperation lacing her words.

  “Might as well go look for gold.”

  She harrumphed, a sound so much like their ma used to make that Trace stared.

  “You will never find enough gold to replace the friendship and love Mandy offered you.”

  “I intend to try.”

  “You’ll never succeed.” She turned her attention to the cat in her arms, dismissing Trace.

  As they rode, he re-lived every minute of the visit from Austin and Mandy. Why had Mandy brought him? Out of malice? He couldn’t think so.

  Then why?

  The answer dawned, slow and certain.

  Because she wanted to help him. She thought seeing Austin would serve some good purpose.

  He warred with his anger. Only it wasn’t fury that caused his stubborn refusal to face the truth. It was pride. He could not let go of his righteous resentment that justice had been denied him. . .that friends had proven false.

  He’d prayed for God to help him. Then Mandy said Austin could help him. Had God sent an answer? But why would He choose Austin—his ex-friend and enemy—to carry a message to him? His conscience asked, Was he willing to listen to Austin if it meant relief from this burning, unyielding hate and unhappiness?

  ❧

  Mandy rushed past the stopping house. She went on until she reached a grassy hillside overlooking the river where there was no traffic.

  She threw herself on the grass and pounded the turf till her fists ached. She lay the
re crumpled for a while, but the tears wouldn’t come. At last she sat up and stared at the water gurgling past.

  Trace said he never wanted to see her again. He was determined to remain miserable, rejecting every good gift God offered. Wallowing in his hate like a pig in mud. But she couldn’t remain angry. Instead, wave after wave of pain and despair washed over her.

  She heard Glory approach but didn’t bother to look up.

  Glory sank to Mandy’s side, their arms brushing. “Joanna told me Trace’s old friend showed up asking after him. What happened?”

  “I took him to see Trace.”

  Glory waited without comment.

  “The man said he’d changed. Said he regretted any part he’d had in what the Bushwhackers had done. He wanted to ask Trace’s forgiveness. I thought it would help Trace to talk to him, so I took him to see Trace.”

  “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

  “Trace chased us away. Said he never wanted to see me again.” Her voice broke. Her nose stung, and she sniffed. “I always think I can fix things for people. I should let them sort out their own problems.”

  Glory wrapped her arm around Mandy. “Sweetie, you only want people to be happy. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Then why did it turn out so bad?” She rested her head on Glory’s shoulder.

  “Because you can’t force people to change. They have to decide that on their own.”

  “Then I guess I don’t stand a chance with Trace. He’s too pigheaded to give up his anger.”

  “It’s a pretty big thing to give up. After all, his parents were murdered, and no justice was offered. But remember, ‘With God all things are possible.’ ”

  “That’s what Levi told Trace.”

  Glory gave a soft laugh. “It’s one of his favorite verses.”

  They sat in contemplative silence for a moment before Mandy spoke again. “What am I supposed to do now? He said to never come back.”

  “Keep loving him. Keep praying. Don’t give up.”

  It was good advice from a sister who’d kept loving and praying until she and Levi sorted out their problems. “Guess if it worked for you it can’t fail for me.”

  Glory snorted. “You’re saying your problems are nothing compared to mine?”

  Mandy tried to laugh but couldn’t. “If only it were so.”

  Glory got to her feet and reached down to pull Mandy up. “I don’t imagine any of them are big compared to God’s power. Now let’s get home before Joanna gets really worried.”

  ❧

  The next morning, Mandy rose with a plan in mind. She would return to the clearing and act like nothing had happened. If Trace wanted to get rid of her he’d soon discover he would require a lot more than angry words.

  Three times on the way up the trail she almost changed her mind, remembering the look on Trace’s face when he saw Austin and the way he’d driven them away. But she would not let things between them end in such a fashion. Fact was, she didn’t intend to let them end at all.

  She stepped into the clearing and halted, waiting for Trace’s reaction. Silence. Had he seen her coming and ducked away? Taken Cora with him? “Trace, I’m here.”

  Nothing. Why, he’d even taken down the tent. Why would he do that?

  A dreadful suspicion scratched at her brain. She looked for his horses. Gone. Unless he’d moved them out of sight.

  She circled the area. The campfire was cold. No pots or dishes lay about. Perhaps they’d moved into the cabin. But she didn’t need to go any farther than the door to see the inside was empty.

  She darted around the cabin. No tools. Nothing. She went to her twig house and stepped inside. It, too, was empty.

  They were gone.

  She returned to the middle of the clearing and turned around twice.

  Trace had left. Without good-bye. Without telling her. He couldn’t be more obvious that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

  She collapsed to her knees. “Oh God, why didn’t You stop him?” The words rang with a familiar tune. How often had she called out to God the very same thing when Pa left yet again?

  “Oh God, bring him back. Please.”

  Her voice rang out in the silence. “I’ll go after him.” But she knew the futility of trying to catch up to a man who didn’t want to be found. Pa had taught her that lesson well.

  She sank into a ball, her palms on the ground, and groaned. She loved Trace, exasperating as he could be, but when had her love ever been enough?

  She knew he loved her, too. But his anger and hate quenched it.

  For a long time she didn’t move. Barely breathed. Didn’t want to feel but couldn’t stop the pain any more than she could stop the sun from shining.

  Glory’s words seemed to echo from a distant place. “With God all things are possible.”

  Was their love possible?

  Could she trust God to make it so?

  “Who else can I trust?” she whispered. But real trust rested in knowing God would fulfill His promises.

  She struggled a moment longer. Trace had every reason in the world to be angry, unwilling to forgive. Only God could show him another way. With bowed head she asked for that to be accomplished.

  One thing she knew, besides God’s faithfulness. Trace loved her. Surely one day, with God’s help, his love would conquer all else and he would return.

  Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. Or even next week.

  But when he did, he would need a house. She pushed to her feet and faced the log cabin. Only a little left to be done on the roof before it was finished.

  When he returned he would find the house ready to live in.

  She climbed the ladder to the roof and set to work.

  As she hammered, her heart grew calm and steady, knowing God would also be busy doing His work in Trace’s heart.

  She paused, the hammer suspended midair, and listened. Voices. People were coming. She sank back out of sight on the far side of the roof and waited. Hopefully the strangers would pass on by, because she was in a precarious, vulnerable position.

  The sound of horse hooves stopped. She clung to the roof and waited.

  But the riders didn’t continue. They turned in and came toward the clearing.

  “This is home now.”

  Cora? That was most certainly Cora’s voice. Who did she talk to? Dare she hope?

  She rose to her knees and stared down at the pair. “Trace?”

  He looked up. Saw her there and stared hard. He blinked and stared again. “Mandy, what are you doing on the roof?”

  “Trace. Cora.” She scrambled down the ladder and ran toward him. “You’ve come back.” Had Trace come back because he loved her? She paused.

  But Trace swung off his horse and ran toward her, caught her in his arms and hugged her to his chest. “I had to come back.”

  “Why?”

  Cora dismounted, gathered Goliath in her arms. “Because my big brother can be very smart at times.” She headed for the woods.

  Mandy leaned back to study Trace’s face, her heart clamor-ing up her throat at the way his eyes shone, his gaze sought hers and clung. “What did she mean?”

  “She thinks I’ve come to the right decision.”

  Mandy waited.

  He led her to one of the logs they used as a bench and pulled her down beside him, never letting her out of his arms. “Remember how I said hate poisoned love?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, only if I choose to hold on to hate rather than love.” He again searched her face, as if he couldn’t get enough of it, had forgotten overnight what she looked like. “I figured it made more sense to let it go and choose love.” He traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips, sending delicious bubbles of joy through her veins. “Mandy, I choose love because my heart can hold nothing else when I am with you. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’ll never get angry.”

  “Of course not,” she murmured. “I get angry, too. You may have noticed.”

/>   He smiled and continued. “Or that I won’t chafe at the injustice of my parents’ murder.”

  “Nor should you.” She struggled to concentrate on what he said. She watched his lips move and wished he would say where she fit into all this.

  “Mandy Hamilton, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my days seeing your smile, laughing at your tricks, growing and learning and being a family with you.” His smile reached deep into his eyes and even deeper into her heart.

  “Glad you finally found some sense.” She took a deep breath. “Trace Owens, I love you. I want to spend my days with you, too. I want to be with you through your bad times and your good. I want you to hold my hand when I go through bad times and share my joy when I go through good.”

  “Mandy, will you marry me?”

  “Just name the day.”

  He didn’t. Instead, he cradled her face in his palms and bent to kiss her, a kiss full of promises for sweet tomorrows.

  They leaned against the cabin wall, arms wrapped around each other, and talked about the ways God had taught them to trust His promises. And still later, as the sun began to set and they’d discussed plans with Cora, a visitor approached the yard.

  Austin stood before Trace. “I won’t leave until you hear what I have to say.”

  Trace nodded, his eyes wary, and invited Austin to sit on the log bench. His posture remained stiff, but he held his tongue and let Austin explain all that happened.

  “I’m truly sorry. I never meant any of this to happen. Will you forgive me?”

  Mandy held her breath. All her thoughts and prayers, all of Trace’s agonizing, had come to this moment.

  Trace paused, his throat working, and gave a curt nod. A decisive nod. “I forgive you.”

  They shook hands; then Austin gripped Trace’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “I only regret those responsible weren’t brought to justice.”

  “Perhaps they were.” Austin shrugged. “The three leaders were shot in an ambush a few months after you left. The rest of the gang dispersed. I’m sure many of them went South to sign up somewhere. But I’m equally certain many of them disappeared, sick of the life they’d lived.”