The Ways of Heaven

by Lindsey Barlow

  It very well may kill me.

  Twenty-Six

  Jonathan stared at the bouquet. Why had he brought flowers for her again—to church? What was she supposed to do, sit through service holding a bouquet? What was he thinking?

  The answer was that he wasn’t thinking, because he was desperate. A desperate man was a weak man, according to his father. Yet here Jonathan was sitting like a fool, holding a bouquet of flowers. One would think after being acquainted with a few rejections that he would be more cautious when it came to revealing his affections. Of course that was hard to do with Meg, because he felt something so strong for her. Perhaps it was because she herself was so strong. How many women could take the abuse she had suffered and come out with a strong spirit and gentle heart? All in all he found her amazing, and as such he was not acting like the intelligent doctor he was.

  Jonathan straightened his shoulder knowing full well that his mind was running wild. He turned to Sheriff Bill, who was sharing a pew with him, trying to think of a topic of conversation.“Are you studying me, doctor?” Ben asked without looking up. “Do you see any indications of bad health?”

  Jonathan chuckled without chagrin. “Passing time while the church fills up,” he replied. “I know everyone here. Have taken their temperatures, stitched them up, mended broken bones, but you—I know very little about you.”

  Ben smiled with pride. “I am usually in good health.” He jerked his head at the flowers. “Those aren’t for me, are they?” he teased.

  Jonathan felt his face turn crimson and was grateful when Pastor Will and Abigail began making their rounds of welcoming everyone before the sermon.

  “Doctor McPherson,” Will smiled and shook his hand. “Good to see you.”

  “You as well Pastor and Abigail,” Jonathan nodded at the ethereal gray-eyed woman who stood beside Will.

  “Lovely flowers,” Abby cocked her head. “Are they for a special occasion?” She grinned.

  “Well, they aren’t for me,” Ben said, pretending to be disappointed.

  Will threw his head back and laughed. “Do you need flowers, Sheriff?” he asked.

  Abigail gave a playful tap on Will’s arm. “You’re only allowed to give flowers to me, no matter how pretty Sheriff Ben looks on Sundays.”

  An instant hush settled over the church. Jonathan thought he knew why; even still, he turned his head to see Cade Walker escorting Rose through the doorway. On one arm he had Rose’s hand laced through his elbow. Her face was serene, her smile sincere; only Jonathan could tell her eyes were dim and her skin a bit paler than its usual flush.

  Cade’s left arm was what clearly surprised people. He held Daisy confidently, allowing the child to tug on his hair while he patiently smiled at her and led the two girls to an empty pew. When Rose sat, she reached for Daisy, stiffening slightly when Cade put his arm around her. A buzz of voices murmured throughout the church.

  Jonathan’s attention was quickly averted, however, as he saw Meg walk in with the twins, holding their hands lovingly. Meg was like a cool stream on a hot day. Jonathan felt all tension leave his body. Seeming to sense someone staring at her, Meg looked over into the locked eyes of Jonathan. She smiled, her skin warming on the cheeks and the constellation of freckles on her nose looking so kissable that it made Jonathan’s chest ache with the need to press his lips against her nose, her cheekbones, her chin, her neck, her—”

  “Good Sunday Morning!” the Pastor greeted everyone, making Jonathan shake his head and blink out the desires.

  /

  Cade had removed his arm as soon as Rose flinched. He leaned into her whispering an apology. “People need to think things are alright,” he explained, “I won’t touch you again,” he looked over at her, his eyes boring into her own, “until you beg me to.” The timbre in his voice growled through the whisper.

  Rose tilted her head and pursed her lips, “I don’t beg, Cade,” she said looking ahead, “not anymore.”

  Cade did not reply; instead he looked over at the pew to his left. Something had caught his eye and held his attention throughout the sermon. Rose tried to resist looking over, keeping her own attention on Daisy, wiggling a rag doll to hold the child’s attention. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her when she’d noticed Cade clench his fist, his knuckles popping with the motion.

  “What are you looking at?” she whispered.

  Cade was silent for a moment before answering. “That kid keeps looking at you,” he hissed between his teeth. “I am trying to decide if I need to let him know it’s not polite to admire a married woman.”

  Rose leaned over and tossed a quick look to see Phillip Hugh flash her a charming smile and then another one at Daisy.

  “That’s Phillip Hugh.”

  “I know who he is,” Cade growled. “He’s an arrogant kid who has won every case he’s had—odd cases, too.”

  Rose ignored the last comment. “He is just being polite.” Rose sighed and joined in the hymns now being sung. Cade continued meeting Phillip’s smile with a scowl. Rose looked over beneath her lashes. Most men could not stand under Cade’s intimidating presence. To her surprise Phillip’s smile widened into both a challenging and an amused grin. He jutted his chin at Cade and wiggled his fingers in a mock greeting.

  Rose could have sworn the hymn book Cade held dented in the middle.

  After the service, Anna found Eliza right away and dragged her over to Cade. Rose felt nauseous; she knew her mother was counseling with Eliza on an affordable house for Rose and Cade. When he’d taken her to the Walker mansion for the first time she’d nearly fainted with shock. Now buying a small, simple home filled her with dread. She felt like God was treating her a bit like a feather in the wind. Stay with Cade, leave Cade, give Cade another chance. Was she simply a confused woman?

  “I’d say you look in desperate need of black coffee,” Meg’s steady voice said. Rose looked over at the kind eyes: supportive, nonjudgmental. She thought God had directed her to Meg for Meg’s sake, but now Rose was grateful for a friend. One who, although young, was seasoned with conflict and trials that made her strong, even if she herself did not realize it. Meg was a blessing.

  “Coffee works,” Rose forced a good-humored shrug. “Chocolate may even be better.”

  Meg allowed a corner of her mouth to tilt upward. “I am sorry. I know most women dream of a man chasing them down, but in your case …” her voice drifted off as Jonathan approached.

  “How are you, Rose?” He looked uneasy. “I knew Cade was in town, but I didn’t think you two would—”

  “It’s a trial, Jonathan,” Rose cut him off, feeling too exhausted to explain it all, even to her dear friend. “We are seeing if being together will cool the animosity I have seen towards Daisy. I am not saying the marriage will work, but for Daisy I am willing to try.”

  “Are you sure, Rose?” Jonathan looked concerned.

  Rose knew Jonathan meant to be kind, but the comment made her feel worse and unsure about her decision.

  Meg cleared her throat. “I don’t think that trying to save a marriage can be a bad thing,” she said as if reading Rose’s thoughts, “I think it’s very brave. Especially when a child is involved.”

  Rose could have kissed Meg on both cheeks for saying that. Instead, she gave Meg a subtle nod of gratitude. “Jonathan, are you still planning on coming over Tuesday for a cooking lesson?”

  He shot a look at Meg, whose wide-set eyes had become still, expressionless.

  “If that is still all right. I am a little tired of burned eggs and watery soup. But I don’t want to be a burden.” He held out the flowers. “However, if it is alright for me to come by, then consider these a sign of gratitude.”

  Meg’s lips curled shyly as she took the flowers. “More flowers? Well, Doctor, I must say I prefer these over medicine. You are welcome to prescribe them to me any day.”

  “I will be over to help, Meg,” Rose said quickly, and she slid a wink at Meg. “I will be grateful for the ex
cuse to come over.”

  Meg smiled, looking down at the floor briefly. “Cooking class it is,” she said, lifting her eyes to Jonathan, the gold rings around her irises branding his skin. “I shall teach you how to cook French Brule and Spanish Tarts.”

  When Jonathan merely frowned like she was speaking another language, Meg laughed joyfully, “I am merely teasing you, Doctor McPherson. I’ll show you how to make eggs and soup and flapjacks. We may even start with toast if your skills are indeed as bad as you say.”

  Twenty-Seven

  A shadow fell over Rose as she set down her cases on the front porch. “Forgive the interruption,” Phillip Hugh said as he appeared at the front gate. He elegantly slung a leg over the horse and slid off before walking up the pathway. Phillip smiled politely. “I hope I am not intruding. I just wanted to sneak away from my mother before she could protest me coming to see you.”

  Rose could imagine Jessica’s Hugh icy stare. She rolled her shoulders, shrugging it off, “You may want to assure your mother that I am back with my husband. I don’t think she likes the idea of you and me socializing.”

  Phillip chuckled. “My mother has always been protective. Still, are you indeed mending things with Mr. Walker? I had heard mention of it yesterday at church and wanted to hear the truth for myself.”

  “Yes,” Rose said, suppressing a sigh; she was back with her hot tempered, gambling husband. “We are staying in Tall Pine, and Eliza was very helpful in finding us a home.” She tried to sound glad about it, but her voice came out rather dry. “That is why I am once again pulling out my cases.”

  “I feel that I must protest.” Phillip continued, “I would hate to see a woman as lovely and courageous as yourself have a reason to dim those beautiful eyes with tears.”

  Rose laughed, shaking her head, knowing it would allow loose tendrils to frame her face. “Careful Mr. Hugh, compliments are my one weakness.” She was flirting. She shouldn’t. She knew it was wrong, but it was hard not to engage him. When she’d left Cade, she thought about him, even missed him, but her heart had cut him off as her husband and lover. Now, he was a nuisance crawling under her skin.

  “I’ll be sure to remember that,” Phillip looked down shyly. “With a woman such as yourself, one could never run out of compliments.”

  A deep timbre etched with aggression grated across the air, “A woman who is my wife.” Cade’s tall figure appeared in the doorway; his stormy eyes slid over Phillip like he was a snake about to lose its venomous head.

  Phillip lifted his chin. “For now,” he said softly.

  Cade’s eyes flared. “Don’t you have someone else’s life to ruin? A poor Indian or a helpless orphan?”

  Phillip frowned. “No, no pressing matters while I am here in Tall Pine. My last major case was two months ago. I enjoy doing local work right now.” His full lips parted into an empathetic smile. “I hope you enjoy Tall Pine, Mr. Walker—we are short of gambling houses, but we do have two saloons which are compatible for men of your taste.”

  Rose cringed at the slander and watched Cade’s body tense. He took a step closer to Philip. “I have engraved men’s faces into the ground for less.”

  Phillip chuckled, not the least bit intimidated. “A violent man? I wish I could say I was surprised.” He turned to Rose, “Good luck with everything Rose, sincerely. My home is always open should you ever need to talk or—” he gave the subtlest of nods to Cade, “simply need somewhere to go.”

  Rose suppressed a smile as Cade nearly choked with the effort it took to suppress his anger. Phillip reached forward to the crib beside Rose and slid a gentle finger along Daisy’s curls.

  “And this little angel is always welcome, too.”

  Cade growled. “Don’t you dare touch her!”

  Phillip look surprised. “Why ever not? She’s not your daughter, so what right do you have to say who gives her attention and who doesn’t?”

  “The man who owns the mare owns the foal.”

  Rose snapped her neck towards him, eyes blazing, and Phillip shook his head sadly, “Oh Rose, good luck to you.”

  Cade gritted his teeth. “I did not mean Rose is a mare or that I own her –“

  Rose shook her head. “Cade, please,” she looked exhausted, already tired from the stress he had caused her. “You’ll only make it worse.”

  Phillip smiled smugly and turned to leave. “Oh, Rose,” Phillip turned back around, “Your mother’s Summer Ball—be a dear and save me a dance.”

  “Why you—” Cade charged toward Phillip, but Rose grabbed him.

  “Not here, Cade,” she hissed. “Not here, not anywhere.”

  He looked at her disbelievingly. “Aren’t you offended? That soft handed, pretty faced boy was outright flirting with you—a married woman.”

  She narrowed her eyes, waiting a minute for Phillip to be out of hearing. “Do you think that is the first time a man flirted with me?” At his opened mouth she scoffed and shook her head. “All the events I had to attend alone, the family parties and balls where I had to cover for you while you played cards. Men are not stupid, Cade, and people are not oblivious. Others knew our marriage was failing before I even did.”

  Cade glowered. “Never again will that happen.”

  Rose lowered her eyes to his shaking hands. She knew that sign; it was all too familiar. She looked back up at him, her eyes blazing with disappointment, “I doubt it.”

  Rose left Cade, his eyes boring into her back as she rushed to the porch and then to the garden. Why was she acting so cruel? She’d hated, resented, and loved Cade against her will before. Then she found peace and confidence in God. Why then was all her hatred and resentment coming back? It was as if a deep wound had been ripped open again.

  My sacrifice was not simple. It was not easy.

  Rose swallowed and closed her eyes letting the words sink into her heart. It was Christ’s sacrifice that had allowed her to forgive Cade, to live with him peaceably even when she believed things would never change. Christ could help her do the same again, because she believed deep down that, like His Sacrifice, anything which brought happiness and healing was worth fighting for.

  She opened her eyes. Daisy was worth fighting for. Family, faith, hope were worth fighting for. But was Cade? Did she want to fight for Cade? Not against him, but for him?

  “I don’t know if I can, Lord,” she whispered. Her only answer was a soft breeze carrying the smell of pine.

  Twenty-Eight

  Cade had to find Jeffries. The town was not that far. He wanted to say he left some things in the jail, borrow a horse—whatever lie he could conjure, and play one game, just one. The house was a fair price, but even so he had nothing left now. No family finances backing his mistakes, no more hard-earned money—nothing. What a challenge that would be, to gamble with nothing to offer, to see how good he was. But he couldn’t. He needed to prove himself to Rose, needed to win her love and trust.

  Jeffries was standing beside Clark laughing and planning a fishing trip. When he saw Cade approaching he excused himself and met him halfway.

  “I need to go play one hand.” Cade’s voice was husky and coated in self-loathing. He looked away ashamed, but managed to keep his head high. “I need it or I’ll go insane.”

  “Yes, you probably will go insane without it,” Jeffries agreed. He looked around making sure they were out of earshot from anyone. “You need to pray right now, Cade. A firm prayer in your heart. You need to find out where your desire to gamble came from.”

  “I don’t know where the need to gamble came from. I mean, I will pray about it but—”

  “Not just that,” Jeffries cut him off, “ask for help. Ask for God to ease the need. He seldom takes it away—that would be too easy—but He helps. You pray to Him every second if need be.” He scanned the yard again. “Cade, I know you think that you love Rose enough to change for her, but you won’t. We men do not change for women because we are too prideful and too arrogant.”

  Cade rai
sed an eyebrow. “Nice of you to say.”

  Jeffries shrugged. “We will change for God, though. We are strong on our own, yes, but we are stronger with God. He takes our pride and molds it into strength. He takes our arrogance and shapes it into confidence.”

  Cade opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the figure of the sheriff riding towards them. “You are up early, Sheriff,” he said when Ben dismounted.

  It was the attitude Ben expected. He imagined Cade felt some chagrin for the other night. “I heard a rumor, and I wanted to solidify the truth.”

  Sunday had passed and Ben knew where he needed to go. Fifty cattle had been stolen, not even in open pastures, but through cut barbed wire fences. These cattle were men’s livelihood, their source of provision for their families. Tall Pine had some good ranches, but not substantial enough where a few missing cattle did not hurt. He needed to get to the bottom of this once and for all. He slid off his pinto and tied him to the fence surrounded by plump rose bushes. “I heard some time ago that you were a detective for the railways.”

  Cade nodded with silence.

  “A good one?”

  “What are you trying to say, Sheriff? You want to know what kind of detective I was? I was exceptional. I chose the railways because they took me outside the city. My family’s business is the railways, and they needed to know of present and potential dangers, mostly the ones that cost them money in the courts.”

  Ben nodded in understanding. “Did you like it?”

  Cade had turned to hitching his wagon behind the two chestnut mares he was borrowing to move Rose and Daisy to their new house. He paused, his eyes looking into the distance. “Yes,” he said without question. A shake of the head and he was again present, “but I lost it. I was distracted, lazy. I became no better than the average detective.”