by Jody Hedlund
Dexter’s fingers tightened around her upper arm. “We ain’t got time for that. Daylight’s burning.”
She dug her feet into the ground and jerked against Dexter’s hold. “I’m gonna return to Abe.”
“No, you’re not.” Dexter yanked her, giving her no choice but to stumble forward.
She twisted, trying to free herself. “Let me go.”
He didn’t respond except to drag her.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said louder, fighting his hold. “I’m not going with you.”
When he still didn’t answer or lessen his grip, worry pricked her, and she thrashed against him. Finally she screamed. She hadn’t wanted to draw attention, hadn’t wanted any of the townspeople to question where she was going or why and then run back to Abe and tell him. But now that was exactly what she hoped for. She needed someone to see her and come to her aid.
She only had the chance to release one scream before Dexter cupped a hand over her mouth. In the same movement, he wrenched her up so that she had no choice but to fall against him.
“Listen here, Zoe,” he growled, his face only inches from hers. “You can come with me nice-like and things’ll be easy for you. But if you fight me, then you’ll force me to make this difficult.”
His hand smothered her mouth. Even so, she attempted another scream. Why was Dexter making her go with him?
As if seeing the question in her eyes, he pressed closer, his voice low. “Once good ole Jeremiah Hart learns I’ve got his sister, I won’t have to steal his gold. He’ll hand it right over, especially if he wants to see you alive.”
It took a moment for Dexter’s threat to register, but when it did, she attempted to protest. Apparently Dexter was kidnapping her and holding her for ransom. Too bad he didn’t realize that if Jeremiah Hart really was Zeke, her brother probably wouldn’t want to see her, that he’d said he didn’t want to have anything to do with her ever again.
’Course, sometimes people said things in anger that they didn’t mean—and that’s what she was hoping for. But in all the time Zeke had been gone, he hadn’t written once or reached out to her. And while she’d clung to the hope that he’d see her, that she’d be able to apologize, and that maybe he’d even forgive her, she doubted her brother would hand over gold to ransom her.
She tried to speak, but Dexter’s hand clamped harder, and his scowl deepened. She struggled, anger and panic mingling together to give her a burst of strength that helped her to break out of his grasp, but only for a few seconds. He caught her arm and bent it at a painful angle, one that made her cry out only to have him slap her mouth.
At Violet’s wail in the cradleboard behind her, Zoe held herself motionless even as her thoughts rioted.
Dexter’s eyes blazed. “You try to break free again, and I’ll go find your holy man just like I’d originally planned, and I’ll teach him the lesson he has coming. Believe me, he won’t walk away from the fight this time.”
Dexter wasn’t threatening to kill Abe, was he?
At the deadly gleam in the miner’s eyes, Zoe let her protest fade. Whether Dexter intended to kill Abe or just hurt him, Zoe couldn’t take any chances. She had to do whatever she could to keep Abe safe . . . even if that meant cutting herself off from him and leaving him behind.
twenty-nine
The evening chill nipped Abe as he climbed the path toward home. He whistled as he usually did, but somehow the melody of praise to the Lord fell flat and his mind kept replaying his conversation with Zoe from earlier in the day when they’d left Wanda’s house.
“So you’re willing to compromise your convictions and grovel at his feet in order to become a bishop someday? If that’s how it’s done, then what kind of bishop will you be?”
What kind of bishop indeed? Abe let his whistling fade away and instead lifted his face to the cloudless sky overhead. Within the dark violet, the first few stars winked at him as though asking him why he cared about being a bishop anyway.
Certainly he wasn’t pursuing the position for the prestige, was he? Maybe his parents and Lizzy had supported his decision because of the power and status it would bring. But he hadn’t considered that, had only been drawn to the leadership role because it would afford him more opportunities to do good.
Ever since the deaths of his parishioners in Sheffield, he’d wanted to push for reforms within the church. With so many regulations and traditions holding rectors above the people, he longed to break down barriers so ministers could shepherd their flocks more effectively and compassionately.
But if he went along with everything Bishop Hills required him to do, then Zoe was right. He’d compromise one conviction at a time until eventually he was the kind of rector and bishop he hoped to change.
As he passed Little Joe’s cabin, his footsteps slowed. Even though he’d had all afternoon while hammering away on the new church’s roof to think about his argument with Zoe, his thoughts were still too full and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face her quite yet. She’d probably ask him if he’d made a decision regarding Lyle.
On the one hand, he loved that she was so compassionate. He wanted to have an open home and open heart to anyone in need, and he’d discovered Zoe operated in the same way. She never turned people away and always helped wherever she could.
But opening their home to every orphan who came along? Wasn’t that taking things too far?
Even as he wanted to find fault with her, he couldn’t find fault with God’s Word, which commanded His people to take care of widows and orphans. Hadn’t he recently read in the Psalms the verse that said, “Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy”?
She’d been right when she’d told him that because God gave them their ministry, no one else had the power to take it away. While the bishop might be able to revoke titles and positions with the Church of England, he couldn’t revoke God’s calling to minister.
In his heart, Abe knew it was better to obey God rather than man. But he still couldn’t keep from fearing what would happen if he pushed onward in following God’s leading rather than listening to the bishop. There was the very real chance he could lose everything—not only his work in the colonies, but all future opportunities in England. In fact, maybe he’d have no reason to return to England at all.
Without a church to serve in British Columbia or in England, what would he do? He could continue to preach and serve the miners the same as always, except without the support of Bishop Hills. He loved living in Yale, and it would be an ideal place to raise both Violet and Lyle.
But how would he provide for Zoe and the children? Especially long term, after he depleted his funds? His parents wouldn’t continue to support him—not if the bishop suspended his license to preach and administer sacraments. They’d likely want nothing more to do with him.
He stopped, his heart thudding with the same nervousness that came over him whenever the bishop threatened him. “Lord,” he whispered, “do I have enough faith to believe that if you called me to minister in new and different ways, you’ll provide the means for my ministry?”
His pulse sped with the worries of an unsettled future, one without all the answers, one in which he would truly have to walk by faith and not by sight.
Could he do it?
“Lord, give me the courage and strength to seek your kingdom and righteousness first. For you promise that when I do, you’ll provide all else.”
He prayed for a short while longer before resuming his trek. At the sight of the cabin ahead, peace rushed over him. He picked up his pace, ready to talk to Zoe. The light emanating from the window welcomed him and filled him with the need to draw her into his arms.
Of course, he had some explaining to do before he earned the right to hold her again. But his heart pattered with anticipation anyway. Whistling for the last few steps, he pushed open the door and searched for her. At the sight of a barren stove without the usual scent of a meal, his gaze swung to the bed. Did she have on
e of her headaches?
The bed was empty, the covers pulled up neatly.
Will sat at the table, carving another block for Violet. He looked up expectantly with the beginning of a smile, but it quickly faded as he took in Abe. “Where are Zoe and Violet?”
“I don’t know.” Abe closed the door behind him and tried to think of where she might have gone this late in the day. Had she returned to visit Wanda and Lyle? Or maybe she’d walked down to Shantytown as she did whenever she wanted to check on the women and children who’d lost so much during the fire.
Even as he sorted through the possibilities, a strange uneasiness sifted through him. Zoe was always home by dusk, even on those days he was returning from an out-of-town trip. Almost always—except for the rare times she had a headache—she greeted him with one of her lovely smiles and offered him a cup of tea to tide him over until she finished making supper.
What had happened to keep her away?
“Did you see her this afternoon?” he asked Will.
“Nope. Didn’t see her a lick after she left the livery.”
Abe rested a hand on the door handle. Maybe one of his parishioners had come seeking his help. Maybe she’d gone out in his stead. “Were there any emergencies around town today that you heard about?”
“Nope. Nothing unusual.” Will peered closely at the outline of the dog he was carving.
“Maybe I’ll head back down to Wanda’s and see if she went back there.”
Will stuck his tongue out in concentration, his knife working magic on the wood. The boy was talented, and Abe never hesitated to let him know.
“If she comes back before I do, let her know I’m looking for her.”
“Sure thing.”
Abe turned and lifted the latch.
“Oh, I forgot,” Will said quickly. “Dexter Dawson’s in town. His men came into the livery for horses.”
Abe froze, an icy cold trickling into his veins. Abe had expected Dex would eventually show up. He’d even expected another confrontation, especially after the bishop’s warning.
But surely it was a coincidence Zoe had disappeared on the day Dexter arrived. Surely Zoe hadn’t sought out Dex. Why would she? Not when she was happy with their marriage.
Even as Abe tried to reassure himself, doubts wafted in. She hadn’t been happy earlier in the day when they’d parted ways. In fact, she hadn’t been all that happy over the past few weeks since the bishop’s visit.
“You don’t think Dex got ahold of her, do you?” Will’s brow furrowed as he set aside his knife and the block, well informed of all that had transpired with Dex when they’d been in Victoria.
A burst of anxiety hit Abe. Maybe Zoe hadn’t gone to Dex. Maybe Dex had sought her out instead.
Will shoved back from the table, his freckled face etched with worry. “Are her things here? I don’t see Violet’s blocks.” The boy got up and began to rummage around.
Abe watched Will, ashamed to admit he didn’t normally pay attention to where Zoe kept her or Violet’s clothing and other belongings. He had a hard enough time keeping track of his own stuff, much less anyone else’s.
His cabin had never been neater or more organized since Zoe had come, and he hadn’t expressed his appreciation oft enough for all she did—the laundering, mending, cooking, cleaning, and probably a dozen other things he wasn’t aware of. When he next saw her, he’d have to be sure to thank her.
“I don’t see anything of Violet’s.” Will’s eyes rounded and brimmed with panic. “What if Dex took Zoe and Violet?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” But already Abe’s own panic had spiked. He stalked to the bed and glanced underneath. Her bag was gone.
He crossed to the chest, threw open the lid, and rummaged inside. The only items there were his neatly folded clothes. He didn’t see a stitch of women’s or baby clothing anywhere. Dropping the lid, he charged across the room toward the kitchen supplies Zoe had lined up neatly on the shelves. He skimmed them, searching for Violet’s bottle parts to no avail.
With his heart thudding hard and fast, he spun and scanned the cabin, praying, hoping for any sign of what had happened. The only items out of place were a bundle of letters on the table and a sheet of paper on Zoe’s chair by the stove.
He stepped over to the chair, grabbed the paper, and unfolded it. At the sight of Lizzy’s penmanship, Abe’s wildly beating pulse slammed to a halt. Was this a new letter from Lizzy? Or had Zoe found this among the stack of old ones he kept with his books?
Smoothing out the sheet, he found the date at the top. December 1862.
She’d written it over four months ago, which meant it had just arrived.
He frowned. Why did Zoe have his letter? He supposed Mr. Allard could have given it to her to bring home. Even so, why would she have opened something addressed to him? Especially so personal a correspondence?
“What did you find?” Will asked. “A note from Zoe?”
“No. This is . . . from someone else.” How could he explain to Will who Lizzy was and what she’d meant to him?
Abe glanced again to Zoe’s chair. What if their situations had been reversed and Zoe had received a letter from a former fiancé? Abe had no doubt he’d want to know the contents. He couldn’t be upset at Zoe for being curious.
Besides, he had nothing to hide from Zoe. Lizzy had likely written in response to his letter belatedly asking her to travel to British Columbia and marry him. She’d probably described how sorry she was for him but how happy she was with Daniel Patterson.
Rather than subject himself to further humiliation, Abe had half a mind to burn the letter without reading it. But against his better judgment, his attention dropped to the greeting: My dearest Abraham.
She’d always opened her letters with that salutation. But wasn’t such familiarity inappropriate for a married woman?
“Who’s it from?” Will asked.
Abe couldn’t answer. Instead, he continued reading and immediately sat down, the shock of Lizzy’s news draining the strength from his body. Lizzy hadn’t married Daniel after all. Moreover, she had accepted Abe’s invitation to sail to the colonies and marry him.
He skimmed over the paragraphs detailing the items she planned to bring for their home as well as gifts sent by his parents. I do hope you will have your maid make all the necessary arrangements at your house before my arrival. Perhaps the new rectory will even be completed by the time I reach Yale so that we might start our new life together there. Whatever the case, I am certain I shall soon be happy again once I am away from the scandal here and happily ensconced in a marriage of my own.
Will stood at Abe’s side. From his scrunched-up forehead and his attempts at sounding out words, he was attempting to read the letter.
Abe folded it back up before the boy could piece anything together. Will wouldn’t understand why another woman was coming and might even get angry. He adored Zoe and Violet. Zoe was like the mother he’d never known, and he saw Violet as his little sister. Yes, Will would be angry at him for inviting Lizzy.
Angry. A vise clamped around Abe’s heart. Had Zoe read the letter and gotten angry? Maybe she’d misunderstood and believed he’d written the invitation to Lizzy recently. Maybe she thought he didn’t want her anymore and was planning to set her aside for Lizzy.
With elbows propped on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
“What?” Will’s voice rang with worry.
“I made a mess of things.”
“I just figured you might.”
Abe lifted his head to find Will standing before him, his eyes narrowed with condemnation.
“I don’t know much about women, but any ole fool could see you made everyone else more of a priority than her. You’re always rushing around to help others, which is good. But maybe she don’t think she matters.”
The boy’s words sounded vaguely like John Roberts’s admonition to take care with his marriage and work at becoming the kind of husband
God wanted him to be. He’d attempted to do some little things for Zoe to show he cared. But maybe Will was right. Maybe he’d neglected the most important thing of all—making her a priority.
In an effort to prove to Bishop Hills—and himself—that he wouldn’t let his marriage and family interfere with his work, he’d obviously put his work first. Was that one more way he’d let his fear of the bishop and the future dictate how he behaved in the present?
In making his ministry his top priority, he’d expected Zoe to adjust to his schedule and lifestyle but hadn’t given any thought to how such selfishness would affect her. He wasn’t a single missionary any longer, and he had to stop acting like he was. He had a wife . . . and a child. And they deserved more from him than the leftovers of his life.
He scooted farther back into the chair only to bump into something and cause it to fall to the floor with a clatter. He reached down and picked it up. At the sight of the framed picture he’d kept of Lizzy, the clamp around his heart pinched tighter. Although he’d forgotten the portrait, Zoe must have found it when she’d tidied up. Where had he left it? Perhaps on the bookshelf?
It didn’t matter now where he’d kept it, only that he had.
What must Zoe think of him hanging on to Lizzy’s picture and never throwing it away? Why hadn’t he?
Will leaned in and studied the picture. “Who’s that?”
Abe couldn’t hide the truth from the boy any longer. “This is Lizzy, my former fiancée, the woman I planned to wed before I met Zoe. And now she’s on her way here, assuming I want to marry her.”
Will gave a low whistle. “Guess that’s why Zoe left you. She figured you must still love Lizzy, what with getting a letter and having her picture and all.”
Abe had the urge to bury his face in his hands and block everything out. But there was no escaping his mistakes.
“Do you?” Will’s brow furrowed and his expression turned fierce.