by Lough, Loree
He slid Lucinda’s kitchen stool closer to the sideboard. “Easy,” he said, perching on it. “Uncle Matthew is with him. Said he was only getting in the way in Susan’s room.”
A wavering sigh escaped her lungs. “The poor man. What a horrible welcome home from all that mayhem.” There wasn’t a blessed thing she could do about Susan’s condition, but what had happened to Josh on the prairie had certainly been her fault.
“Were you crying just now?”
“No. Of course not.” If her words sounded hollow in her own ears, surely Dan had heard the falseness in them, too. Kate tried covering the fib with a too-loud, too-long giggle. “What in the world do I have to cry about?” Frowning, she cupped her elbows. “I’m not the one who lost a baby tonight. It isn’t my son hovering near death’s door, and I didn’t just bury a beloved relative. And—”
Dan stood up again and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Kate. In the short while you’ve been with us, you’ve become one of us. So, the losses you just listed? They hurt you, too.”
She looked up into eyes as clear and blue as the Texas sky. Eyes that, if framed by thick, blond lashes, could have been Josh’s. The thought conjured a mental picture of him, lying silent and still, with a bullet wound in his chest—because of her.
“I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t your fault,” Dan continued.
“Oh, isn’t it?” She didn’t feel deserving of the comfort of his touch and took a step back from him. “Then whose fault is it? If Frank hadn’t followed me to your doorstep, if Josh hadn’t insisted that all of you come after me, if I hadn’t come here in the first place—”
“If,” Dan interrupted her. “The biggest little word in the dictionary.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the facts.”
His smile vanished, replaced by a hardened glare that made him look far older than his twenty-six years. “You’re a wonderful woman with an amazing spirit, and your nurturing did wonders for Mee-Maw. But the fact is, you’re just an ordinary human being, nowhere near powerful enough to have prevented the things that have happened.”
“And I suppose you’re going to tell me that your precious Lord is in control.”
The blue of his eyes darkened as both brows dipped low in the center of his forehead. “I don’t know what has made you so bitter and angry with God. Don’t know what sort of childhood you had, or what your life was like before Josh brought you home. But, based on what I’ve seen, you were a follower—once.”
Dozens of Sunday-go-to-meetings flashed through her mind as quickly as a card shark shuffles his deck. She remembered sharing the hymnal with her mama as they stood, side by side, praising the Lord in song. Remembered standing at the altar, singing solos that made the good ladies of the church cry. There had been picnics and weddings and funerals, and, on her twelfth birthday, after Pastor Anderson had dunked her in the murky waters of Flintstone Creek, she’d gasped for air and dried herself with the towel he’d offered, feeling clean and holy and every bit a baptized-in-the-blood Christian.
“Yes,” she whispered, “I was a follower once. But that was a long, long time ago.” A lifetime ago, she thought, before her father was killed and her mama died and her stepfather tried to use her as payment for a gambling debt and—
“I’m sure you believe you have solid reasons for abandoning God, but it’s never too late to come back to Him, you know.”
He’d spoken softly, and yet his words sliced into her soul like the wail of a banshee. Daniel had lived his whole life on this ranch, surrounded by beautiful vistas and wondrous things and a loving family. What could he possibly know about near starvation and homelessness and the fear and desperation that drive young girls to leave the only home they’ve ever known to search for food and shelter? How would she ever explain to this devout man, who spent countless hours poring over Bible passages, that God had abandoned her, not the other way around?
“You sacrificed yourself to save us.”
Kate shook her head. “I’m the one who put you all in danger in the first place. There was nothing self-sacrificing about what I did.”
“Say what you will, but love like that is described in the Good Book! You were willing to die at the hands of that madman to protect us.” The kitchen mantel clock ticked three times, then four, before he added, “You’re the stuff heroines are made of.”
She stood there, blinking in silence, because he’d meant every word, as evidenced by his earnest expression. Her cheeks grew warm, and Kate knew the blush had been brought on by shame, not Dan’s compliment. When he’d called “if” the biggest little word in the dictionary, oh, how right he’d been! If she’d taken a different path in life, if she hadn’t been so naïve and gullible, if….
There was little point in dwelling on what might have been. Especially since she could see in Dan’s gentle face that her silence had led him to believe he’d insulted rather than flattered her. “I know you mean well,” she admitted, “and I appreciate it.”
Dan only shrugged.
“Your tea is getting cold,” she said, sliding the tray closer to him.
He took a sip, then took a bite of meat. “Didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” he said, taking another bite.
It seemed her tactic to distract him had been successful. But, just in case Dan was merely being polite—again—Kate decided to add to it. “Think I’ll fix a little something for Josh’s father. I’m sure he must be famished, too.”
Dan stopped chewing and studied her face for a moment. “See what I mean?”
“I—I’m afraid not.”
“Your every thought is for the well-being of others. A person with a heart and a nature and a spirit like that? You can’t tell me you don’t love the Lord!”
“I never said I didn’t love Him. It’s the Lord who doesn’t love me,” she blurted out.
“Nonsense. He loves all His children.”
“Oh, does He, now? Then maybe you can explain to me why He has never seen fit to answer my prayers!” As she prepared the tray for Matthew, she recited her list of grievances, from the grisly way her father had died, to her stepfather’s abuse and her mama’s death, to Esther’s passing. “And now, poor Susan has lost her baby, on the very night Josh was shot by an outlaw who followed me right to your doorstep!”
“Feeling mighty important, aren’t you?”
Important? If anything, she felt quite the opposite! But she wasn’t about to get into a battle of wits or wills with Dan. She’d done enough damage to this family without spewing ungrateful, hurtful words. “Well, then,” she said, hoisting Matthew’s tray, “I’ll just take my important self upstairs and deliver this to Matthew. If you need me”—and I certainly hope you don’t—“I’ll be—”
“Will you pray with me, Kate?”
Of all the ways he might have responded to her little tirade, Kate certainly hadn’t expected that! “I’ll tell you the same thing I told your grandmother when she asked me to pray with her: I’m very much out of practice. And not very good at it, either.”
Daniel grinned. “I can only imagine what Mee-Maw said to that!”
In spite of herself, the memory of those precious moments inspired a fond smile. Dare she admit that his grandmother had talked her into saying an impromptu prayer? But Esther was gone, and so was Kate’s desire to pray. Her smile faded as she shook her head.
He relieved her of the tray, clasped her hands between his, and bowed his head. “O Lord in heaven,” Daniel began, “You have promised to be with us, always, whether we rejoice or weep, when we’re strong and when we’re weak. When the leper turned to You in his time of need, You healed him. I ask that You look at Your daughter, Father. Read her broken heart and see her crushed spirit. Doesn’t she remind You of the blind man, Father, who walked by faith, not by sight? Remind Kate that she, too, can come to you, trusting and untroubled, unafraid and—”
Kate jerked her hands free. “I appreciate your sentiments—really, I do—but you shou
ld be praying for your cousins Josh and Susan, and for Sam and Willie.” She picked up the tray and hurried toward the hallway, stopping in the doorway to add, “Pray for your aunt and uncle, who lost a grandchild and nearly lost a son tonight. But please, Daniel, do us all a favor—especially your dear Lord—and stop wasting your breath on the likes of me.”
His surprised expression stayed with her all the way up the stairs and into Josh’s room, where she found Matthew dozing in the big chair against the wall. After quietly depositing the simple meal of meat and biscuits on the bedside table and checking on Josh’s condition, she tiptoed to her own room and, the instant the door clicked shut behind her, fell to her knees. Pressing her eyes with the palms of her hands, she willed herself not to weep.
Yet the tears came—tears she hadn’t been able to shed at her father’s grave, or when she’d found her mama’s lifeless body, or when fear of her stepfather had driven her into the dark, rainy night, never to return to the house she’d shared with her mama. And because she’d refused to allow Frank the satisfaction of knowing his abuse had caused her pain and despair at all he’d taken from her, she hadn’t let him see her tears, either.
Well, you’re more than making up for it now, you sniveling little weakling! she thought. Muffling her moans with an overstuffed feather pillow, she saw images of Esther, Susan, Sam, little Willie, and Josh flit through her mind. Daniel had accused her of believing she was important enough to change things, to keep them from happening. If only she did have the power to spare them from fear and pain and loss!
It felt as though her sobs originated deep in her soul, and, as they pulsed throughout her being, the awareness surprised her. Until now, Kate had had no proof that she’d been blessed with a soul. Daniel’s prayer echoed in her mind, and, at the moment, she thought it just might be possible to have a broken heart and a crushed spirit. Was it possible he’d been right when he’d hinted that God might have answered her prayers if she’d had faith in His love, if she’d trusted His mercy?
Just as quickly as they’d started, the tears stopped, and the sobs subsided. Using her apron, she dried her eyes and sat back on her heels, depleted and dog-tired. “Should have eaten a bite of that beef,” she chided herself through clenched teeth. Then, an idea flared in her head: Just as food would deliver nourishment to her weary mind and body, God’s Word would feed her hungry soul.
She looked over at the window seat, where Esther’s Bible sat, right where it had been since the day her dear friend had died. Kate had picked it up several times since then, but only to move it so she’d have room to kneel on the padded bench and peer through the wide window. It called to her now, and, rising slowly, she moved toward it.
Sitting with her back to the bleak black night on the other side of the glass, Kate picked up the Good Book, one trembling fingertip tracing the worn gold letters on its cover. If only Esther were here to suggest a comforting verse to bring healing!
She’d no sooner completed the wish than the elderly woman’s bright eyes and playful smile flashed in her mind. Kate could almost hear her gravelly voice saying, “You don’t need me to point to a passage, silly girl. Open the book and let the good Lord tell you what He wants you to hear!”
And so she opened the Bible haphazardly and read Romans 8:35–39:
Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter. Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Could she believe that the almighty Father loved her, in spite of all the years that had passed since she’d first come to Christ, and through all the suffering she’d endured?
Warmth flooded her being, and Kate trembled from her hair bow to her boots. New tears filled her eyes—this time, not tears of anguish and loneliness, but tears of hope and joy, because, for the first time in many years, she believed—really believed—in the power of God’s mercy and love.
Hugging the Bible to her chest, Kate bowed her head. “Thank You,” she whispered. “Oh, thank You.” She’d never meant the words more. He’d shown her, in the twinkling of an eye, that He had answered her prayers. She’d survived conditions that would have destroyed other young women without the Lord in their hearts to strengthen and sustain them.
How silly she felt, how humbled she was, admitting that He’d been there all along, loving her, guiding her, protecting her, even as she’d voiced angry words, even when she’d turned her back on Him.
Starting now, when doubt whispered doom into her heart, she’d pray it away, knowing even as she uttered her pleas that God above would hear and answer.
She gently placed the Bible on her night table, where it would be easy to reach if she awoke in the night. Then, she peered into the mirror, and, as she tidied her hair and dried her eyes, she couldn’t help but be astonished by the joy written on the face looking back at her.
As she made her way down the hall toward Josh’s room, she took a deep breath. “You know my heart, Lord,” she whispered, “so You know how much I love him. Bring him back to us, as hale and hardy as before the gunshot wound.”
Just outside his door, she paused, placed one hand over her fluttering heart, closed her eyes, and silently added, And if You see fit to let him love me, too, I’d be forever grateful. But I’ll do Your will, even if it means living without him. Amen.
44
Josh had heard her for quite a while now, muttering about the unfairness of it all as she tidied his covers and plumped his pillows, as she pinched the sides of his mouth to help him swallow spoonfuls of broth, as she laid cool compresses on his forehead. If he could have found the strength, Josh would have told her life wasn’t about fairness or the lack thereof. It was about putting one boot in front of the other, no matter what, and thanking God for handing down the strength to make it from day to day.
The Neville women had always been religious, and they could quote the Scriptures as well as any preacher. But the men—with the exception of his cousin Dan—lived more by the Bible’s overall message than by memorized verses. Josh understood that Kate’s lack of faith was the result of her having lived on the fringes of the Christian community most of her life. Orphaned as a girl, she’d grown up by dint of her own will and drive to survive. How she’d done it without the Lord in her life, he couldn’t say, but he respected her for what she’d become, all the same. As soon as he was able, he’d tell her so. And he’d find a way to prove that her Father in heaven loved her every bit as much as He loved those who’d been attending services since they were in diapers!
And, speaking of diapers, the fact that Kate had changed his grandmother’s just as willingly as she’d read her stories and sung her songs proved she was a woman with the heart of an angel and the soul of a saint. He’d point that out, too.
But why hadn’t she sung for him? Oh, what he’d give to hear the music of her lovely voice, floating softly around his sickroom.
Then, it dawned on him that he’d never gotten around to telling her what the Rangers had said. Now that the pieces of the Dinah/Kate puzzle had come together, he admired her all the more. Somehow, he had to find the strength to let her know she was completely safe and considered blameless. Maybe once she knew that she had nothing to fear, she’d give up her cockeyed notions about going to Mexico. At least, that was his prayer. But if he caught so much as the glimmer of a sign that she still aimed to leave, well, he’d just have to ask her to marry him. And how could she say no, once he admitted that he’d loved her almost from the start?
Hearing the bed linens rustle, he held his breath, waiting, waiting, for the other signal that she was n
ear.
And there it was: Kate pressed her lips to his forehead, the same fever test his ma had used on him in his childhood. He heard the joy in her voice when she quietly exclaimed, “Your fever is gone!”
She followed it up with, “All right, Rip van Winkle, you can wake up any time now.”
Josh wanted to smile, because she’d been calling him by that name for who knows how long; she’d even told him about the story she’d read as a girl about a man who’d slept for years and years just to escape his wife and his humdrum life.
He felt the mattress dip as she sat beside him. “Oh, Josh,” she whispered, resting her head on his chest, “what have I done to you?”
Even in her misery, she’d taken care not to touch his wound. Warmth and affection surged through him, giving him the strength to wrap his good arm around her. “You’ve made me love you, that’s what you’ve done to me,” he croaked.
Kate gasped and made a move to sit up, but he held tight. “Stay, please.”
He said a silent prayer of thanks that she complied.
“You haven’t talked in so long that you sound like the bullfrog that used to live in my grandmother’s pond,” Kate said. “Now, at least turn me loose long enough to get you something to drink.”
The need to see her smiling face was greater than the desire to hold her close, so he did as she asked. It seemed to take her forever to get the water glass from the bedside table and carefully serve him a spoonful, but he used the time to drink in her loveliness.
“I’m so relieved that you’re finally awake,” she said, putting the spoon into the glass, which she set back on the table.
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d been awake for quite some time, for then, he’d have to explain he’d been too weak to speak, and that would only worry her more. “How long was I out?”
“Three days.”
“Three!” Josh tried to sit up, but a white-hot bolt of pain stopped him.