by Karen Ball
A sob tore at Brad, and he lowered his head.
He’d failed again.
When Topaz crested the rise, Taylor vaulted from the saddle and ran to look down into the valley. Connor was right behind her, and she felt his hand grip her arm.
“There.” His voice was flat and grim. She followed his pointing finger and saw the still, gray form. Her mind was so focused on the wolf that it scarcely registered that someone was kneeling next to the animal.
“No!” A flash of wild grief ripped through her. “Oh no!”
Connor mounted his horse and went down the path to the valley floor. Taylor wanted to follow him, but she couldn’t make her legs move. It was Nokomis, beautiful, laughing Nokomis.
Taylor felt sick. She leaned against Topaz’s side, squeezing her eyes shut, drawing in deep gasps of air, willing her stomach not to reject her lunch. Her head spun, and she shook with impotent rage and fear. Then one thought pierced through her misery and spurred her into action: the pups!
With a cry, she grasped the saddle horn and swung herself into the saddle. Within minutes, she was down in the valley, off the horse, and circling the pool.
Connor was kneeling next to Nokomis’s body, his hand resting in her lush fur, his face ashen. When Taylor came toward him, he looked at her, and his eyes glittered dangerously.
“She’s dead.” He stated in a low, rasping voice what she already knew. She nodded, unable to speak around the knot of grief in her throat. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he reached up to take it in his. His grip was so hard that it hurt her, but she didn’t care.
Then with one lithe movement he was standing, and he pulled her into his arms, as though he desperately needed contact with something warm and alive. He crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair, and she felt him shudder with emotion. She slid her arms around his waist and tried to offer him what comfort she could. At last he drew a ragged breath and set her away from him.
It was then that she became aware of someone else standing there, watching them. She turned, and her grief exploded into fury.
“You!” Until that moment she’d never realized one word could be the embodiment of violence. But that was what she felt, what surged through her in waves. Violent rage. Wrath.
And all she could think of was making Brad Momadey pay for what he’d done.
TWENTY-SEVEN
WITHOUT THINKING, TAYLOR ADVANCED TOWARD BRAD. “DID you do this? Did you?”
Brad flinched as though she’d struck him. “No!” His horrified denial was immediate.
“I don’t believe you!” Her hands clenched into fists.
“Taylor, stop.” Connor grabbed her arms, holding her firmly.
She struggled against him. “He killed her!” She brushed an angry hand at the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Connor turned her to face him, shaking her slightly. “No, he didn’t.” The words were quiet but firm.
“You don’t know—” She forced the words out, a sob in her voice. “You don’t know him like I do. He killed Josh!”
Connor’s eyes widened at that, and he looked at Brad’s strained, pale face.
“It was my fault.” The boy’s words were laden with guilt and self-recrimination. “I was supposed to watch the boys, and I didn’t.”
Understanding dawned in Connor’s eyes. “You’re Brad Momadey.”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here? How dare you come on my land—” Connor’s grip on her arms tightened. She looked up at him, and shame swept over her at the look in his eyes. Some small part of her knew she was being vicious, shrewish, but she didn’t care.
“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
The words echoed faintly in her mind, but she pushed them away. Forgive? How could she forgive this boy for all he’d cost her?
“Forgive as you’ve been forgiven …”
No, Lord. I can’t.
“What were you doing here, Brad?” Connor’s voice was filled with gentleness.
“I was watching over the wolves.”
Taylor stared at him. “Watching over the wolves? How? Why?”
He looked at her, and she was shocked to see how old his eyes looked. Old and weighted down.
“I knew they were here a year ago. I heard their songs, saw their tracks. I’ve been following them since they arrived, trying to cover their tracks and make sure the ranchers didn’t find them. I wanted to protect them. Keep them safe.”
Her mind spun, and she thought she might faint. Brad had been on her land, following her wolves, for the past year! How could that be? How could she not have seen—?
“It was you!” She struggled to comprehend what was happening. “You’re the one who’s been shadowing me. You scared the cougar away—”
At his stiff nod, she crossed her arms and looked away. So this was her guardian angel, her protector, the one who had made her feel so safe at night? This was the one God had sent to watch over her.
“Why?” She directed a look at Brad. “Why did you do this?”
Emotions swept over the boy’s face. His haunted eyes burned with an inner despair, and Taylor was hit with an overwhelming desire to reach out and smooth the anguish from his young face. Stunned by her unexpected feelings, she stiffened and stepped back.
Brad took in her movement and looked away. “I—I wanted to be there … to make sure nothing happened to you because—because it’s my fault you’re alone. It’s my fault Josh isn’t here to take care of you.” A sob caught at the words, and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back. His jaw was clenched, and his entire body seemed coiled with anguish and tension.
After a moment, he opened his eyes again, and Taylor found herself faced with the rawest grief she’d ever seen. How does he live with that much agony? Her heart squeezed painfully with the sorrow she felt emanating from him.
“When I saw how much the wolves meant to you, how much you loved them, I swore I’d do everything I could to protect them too. I knew you were spending every day with him.” He nodded at Connor. “So you’d be safe. But the wolves were here … alone.…” Despair washed over his face as he looked at Nokomis’s body. “I’ve been staying here, sleeping in the tent for a few hours each night. Then I’d go up on the rise and watch from there. Today, I came out of the tent and saw the man standing on the opposite side, saw him sight his rifle on the female. I didn’t have time to reach my gun. To reach him.” His eyes came back to hers, pleading with her to believe him. “I would have stopped him if I could. But I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry.…” He gulped hard, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Connor stepped forward to lay a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did what you could, Brad. Do you know who he was? Did you see his face?”
Brad’s head shook abruptly. “I didn’t see his face. I came up behind him when he was going to the female, I think to make sure she was dead. We fought. I caught a glimpse of him, but he was wearing something across his face. Then he hit me with his gun, and all I saw were stars.” He looked at Nokomis. “I watched her die.” The flat words seemed wrenched from somewhere deep within him. “I saw the light in her eyes go out. She looked at me as though she felt bad for me, like she was trying to tell me it was okay, and then she was gone.” He moved restlessly, rubbing his temples with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”
She jerked when he said her name. She stared at him, more uncertain than ever. Brad just kept talking, as though he couldn’t help himself. “I wanted to stop him. I never wanted him to die.”
A jolt of shock left Taylor lightheaded. Brad was no longer referring to the wolf but to Josh. She was sure of it. Her eyes flew to Connor, and he shook his head. Let him talk, his eyes seemed to say. Let him get it out. He came to stand beside her, his arm slipping around her waist as he offered his strength, his support.
Taylor’s heart constricted, and she thought the pain would tear her in two. God, I can’t. I can’t bear this! You
can’t ask this of me!
Brad paced back and forth, his hands clenched at his sides, his movements quick and strained. “I can’t get it out of my mind. I keep seeing him fall, keep seeing his face, the look he gave me.” He stopped abruptly and looked at Taylor, his face filled with confusion. “He should have hated me! He should have screamed at me! But he just looked at me with such … understanding. Like he wanted to comfort me, tell me it was okay.”
Taylor’s chest felt as though it would burst. Listening to Brad’s voice, she heard the echo of her own pain; looking at his face, she saw the reflection of her own grief and confusion.
His eyes searched her face, as though hoping against hope to find some answer, some reason there for what had happened. “Josh knew he was going to die,” he went on, “I could see it in his eyes. And he just looked at me as though he were worried about me.” Brad sank to the ground, his knees pulled up against his chest, his face buried in his hands. “I can’t get that look out of my mind. It haunts me. It’s like he won’t rest until I understand, but I don’t. I can’t.”
Connor’s arm tightened around Taylor’s waist, but she pulled away. She stood there, ready to flee, wanting to escape this nightmare … yet something held her fast. As though she couldn’t help herself, she looked at Brad, and his anguish tore at her heart. She clamped her lips shut to imprison a sob of her own.
At last, at long last, her enemy was here before her in agony. But there was no joy, no triumph, no sense of victory.
Why not, Lord? Why not?
He is not the enemy.
With that truth, guilt and regret washed over her in great, drowning waves. God! O God, forgive me! She’d thought Brad was going on with his life happily, uncaring that Josh was dead or that he had been responsible. She’d pictured him as cold and cruel, painted him a monster without heart or conscience. And all this time, day in and day out for a year and a half, he had been paying penance, living like a wraith, watching over her. He was as imprisoned in his guilt as she was in her hatred and bitterness.
Father, forgive me. Josh was willing to die for Brad, to give his life so that Brad might find you. And all I’ve done is hate. And wish him dead. If anyone wasted Josh’s life, Lord, it’s been me.
Connor’s strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind, and she turned to look into his compassionate eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she shook her head.
“I was so wrong.”
He motioned gently toward Brad. “Tell him. He needs to hear. He needs to be set free, and I think you’re the only one who can do it.”
She held Connor’s gaze, drawing strength from the love she saw there, then turned and went to kneel beside Brad. Carefully, gently, as though he were made of something infinitely fragile, she slid her arms around him.
For a moment he stiffened, and she thought he might bolt. Then, with a broken sob, he sagged against her.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I never wanted him to die. He was the only one who ever listened to me, who didn’t give up on me. And I killed him!”
“You didn’t kill him, Brad.” The truth was finally clear in her heart. “It was an accident.”
“But it was my fault!” He pulled away from her, surging to his feet. Desperation lined his features, and he reminded her of the wolves just before they bolted for the woods. “Billy never would have gone out on that ledge if I’d been watching him. I was too proud, too concerned with showing Josh he couldn’t tell me what to do. I wanted to teach him a lesson.”
Taylor waited for the anger and pain to sweep through her, but they didn’t. Instead, she felt surrounded with God’s peace, cloaked in his presence and forgiveness.
“Forgive, beloved, as you’ve been forgiven.”
She stood. “Brad, listen to me.” Though she didn’t move toward him, she caught and held his eyes with her own. Let him hear me, Father. Please, just let him hear me.
“You’re right. It was your fault Josh ended up on that ledge.” Brad flinched as though she’d struck him, then closed his eyes as though waiting for her to strike a death blow. “I hated you for a long time for that, even wished you had been the one to die—” She looked away in shame. “I didn’t care if you knew God. I even hoped you didn’t. I wanted you to suffer for eternity for what you’d done.”
Brad opened his eyes, and they were a dark void in his colorless face.
She took a step toward him, extending her hands, palms up. When she spoke, her voice was heavy with regret. Oh, Jesus, I’ve been so wrong.… “Please, Brad, will you—can you—forgive me?”
He blinked and his mouth sagged open. She smiled in spite of herself.
“You want me. to forgive you?” His husky voice was ripe with disbelief and confusion. His sable eyes clung to hers, and she saw that he wanted to believe her. Wanted it as desperately as she’d wanted to trust God again.
It hit her then and took her breath away. They’d both been in prison, trapped by their emotions.
No more, Father. She was filled with a sudden sense of a locked door being thrown wide open. It’s time for us to be free.
“How can you ask that? I killed your husband! You should hate me!”
“No, Brad. No. Don’t you see? We’ve both been wrong. I forgot that Josh loved you. I forgot that God loves you—”
“God doesn’t love me! He can’t! Not after what I’ve done.”
“Yes, he can.” She was in front of him now, and she reached out to take his clenched hands. For a moment he kept them clamped, but they began to relax in her warm grasp. “And he does. We’ve all done terrible things, Brad. Yes, you made a mistake. And yes, Josh died because of it. But it was an accident.” She lifted one hand to touch his cheek, wiping away a tear. “What I did was far worse. It was intentional. Determined. I let myself blame you. I feasted on my bitterness and nurtured my anger until I hated you.”
Pain was alive and glowing in his eyes, and she squeezed his hand in entreaty. “But I was wrong! If I hate you in my heart, then I’m as guilty in God’s eyes as if I murdered you.” She was crying again … would she ever reach the end of her tears?
“Weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”
Yes, Lord … yes. It’s time for morning. “But that ends here, Brad. Now. The hate ends here.” Her voice gained strength. “I forgive you.” A glint of wonder entered his eyes at her words. “I forgive you, and I know Josh forgave you, too, before he died. I know his heart. You know his heart. He loved you, Brad.” She reached out to place her palm over his heart.
He caught his breath at her touch, as though it were painful.
She understood. It could hurt to the core when your heart started to thaw after a long, long freeze.
“Josh loved you. You said he knew he was going to die. He loved you enough to give up his life so you could have the chance to know Jesus. That’s what mattered most to him. And, when it comes down to it, that’s what matters most to me, too.”
“Why?”
She gave him a watery smile. “Because it’s what matters most to God. He died for you, too, Brad. Christ came for you, to die in your place on the cross because he loves you.”
He nodded. “I know. I—I’ve been reading a Bible my mom gave me. I wanted to believe … wanted to ask God to forgive me, to accept me …” He looked down. “I just figured I wasn’t worth it.”
“You aren’t,” Connor said from beside them. Brad looked at him sharply, and his smile was kind. “None of us is. We can’t be worthy of God’s love. He just gives it because he wants to, not because we deserve it. You don’t have to be good enough. All you have to do is say yes.”
Brad glanced again at Taylor, and she nodded.
“Will you … will you pray with me?”
A warm glow of praise and gratitude flowed through Taylor. She smiled, and Brad’s mouth tipped into a hesitant smile in response.
“Yes, of course.” She reached out to take Connor’s hand, too. “We both will, if that’s okay
.”
Brad looked at Connor. “I’d like that.”
The three of them knelt there together, and Taylor’s heart resonated with delight as she and Connor ushered Brad to the throne room of his heavenly father.
She knew, somewhere up in heaven, Josh was singing.
TWENTY-EIGHT
IT HADN’T BEEN HARD TO FIND THE PUPS; ALL FIVE WERE cowering at the back of the cave, whining piteously for their mother. Taylor couldn’t hold back the tears as they gathered the tiny furry bundles and took them back to the tent.
The other wolves were gone. For now at least. The gunshots had most likely sent them into hiding.
Brad stayed with Taylor and Connor, and all three spent the night feeding the pups every hour, using some dry formula and bottles, supplies Connor had brought in case they were needed.
When he first mixed the powder with water and shook the bottle, Brad wrinkled his nose in distaste. “They’re supposed to like this stuff, eh?”
Connor slanted him a knowing grin. “Like it or not, they’ll eat it when they get hungry enough.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
At first the pups seemed to agree with Brad. They resisted the bottles, turning their heads this way and that. After several frustrated efforts at coaxing the small, whining bundles, Connor took the bottles and strode from the tent. When he returned, his face was grim. He handed the bottles to Taylor. “Try it now.”
She did so, amazed when the pup she held latched onto the nipple, sucking for all it was worth. Taylor looked at Connor curiously.
“You put the mother’s scent on them, didn’t you?” Brad asked quietly.
At Connor’s nod, tears sprang to Taylor’s eyes—but mixed with her grief was gratitude for Connor and his willingness to do what was necessary.
The night wore on, and all the pups but one drank their fill, then dropped off into an exhausted slumber. The last pup, the smallest and weakest, continued to refuse the formula. His whimpers persisted nonstop for several hours, but as grating as that was, it wasn’t nearly as alarming as when the pup fell silent.