The Lady and the Mountain Promise (Mountain Dreams Series Book 4)

by Misty M. Beller

  But God was. If only He could be relied on to use that power for good. If only He cared enough to save her before the terrible things happened. Putting her life in His hands was too much risk.

  “In God have I put my trust. I will not be afraid what man can do unto me.”

  Lilly glanced up at Claire’s words.

  Her friend gave a sad half-smile. “One of my favorite psalms. It’s true though, Lilly. God is trustworthy. You can rely on Him, even if everyone else fails. The last verse in that chapter says, ‘For thou hast delivered my soul from death. Wilt not thou deliver my feet from falling, that I may walk before God in the light of the living?’ I love that promise.”

  A high-pitched whine sounded from the kitchen, and Claire rose to her feet. “I’ll pour the tea.”

  Lilly hugged her arms around her chest. God, I don’t know if You care, but my daughter’s out there. Alone and scared. Save her. Please.

  Chapter Twenty

  IF WE SEE her, we’ll sure come tell the sheriff.”

  Marcus turned away as Alex bid the sleepy man farewell. He couldn’t quite pull the slump out of his shoulders. They’d only covered half their assigned territory, and there’d been no sign of Dahlia yet.

  “Marcus, I think we should stop for the night.” Alex fell into step beside him. “We’re getting people out of bed, and it’s too dark to do a thorough search. The rest of the men stopped hours ago when dark set in. Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll start again at daylight with the others.”

  Marcus didn’t halt his marching as they neared the next house. Another shanty. Was that all this town held? At least this section seemed to be families, not roustabouts or seedy-looking bachelors. Which meant they probably were waking the children with their search. He glanced at the moon. It must be close to midnight. But then an image passed through his mind of Dahlia, huddled in a cold, dark corner.

  He had to find her.

  A hand gripped Marcus’s shoulder. “We’re not doing a thorough search with it so late. You’ll be worth more to Dahlia if you’re fresh and people let you in to check every room. Besides, I’m sure it would help Lilly if you stop by and fill her in on what’s been done so far.”

  Lilly. He’d left her alone all afternoon. Not that she’d be eager to see him without Dahlia in his arms. But still, he owed her an update. It was the least he could do.

  The weary walk back to Claire’s house might have taken hours. His mind scanned through the areas they’d searched. The people they’d questioned. None seemed especially sinister, and none matched Lilly’s description of Barlow. The rest of the men searching had checked in every few hours as their paths crossed.

  One or two of the townspeople they’d questioned had thought they might’ve seen someone matching Barlow’s description in the last few weeks, but none could give any idea of his whereabouts or living conditions.

  How could a man disappear so thoroughly, even in a city the size of Butte?

  At Claire’s door, Alex tapped lightly. The wood jerked open to reveal Lilly’s drawn face.

  Alex mumbled something as he stepped inside, leaving Marcus standing before her, flayed by her penetrating stare.

  Lines spanned her forehead. Shadows from the lantern pressed dark impressions under her eyes. Her hands balled into fists gripping her apron.

  “What news?”

  His gaze found her eyes, pulled there against his will. “Nothing yet. We’ve had two dozen men searching, covered about half the town. We’ll all start again at daylight.”

  Her shoulders sagged as he spoke, and she turned away, back inside the house. His chest couldn’t have fractured more completely if she’d plunged a cleaver into it.

  “Lilly.”

  She froze at his voice.

  Marcus couldn’t quite stop himself from stepping forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find her, Lilly. I promise.”

  Her shoulders stiffened. “I hope so.” Then she slipped from his grasp and escaped toward the kitchen, where the murmur of voices drifted in the night air.

  His head drooped, and he sagged against the door frame. God, why haven’t we found her? I have to find her.

  Footsteps sounded inside, and Marcus raised his head enough to see who approached. Claire.

  “Come in and have some tea,” she said. “We thought it might be a good idea to pray before everyone heads home.” She wrapped a hand around his upper arm.

  “Everyone?” He didn’t have the strength left to face people tonight.

  “Well, mostly just Miriam and Alex and the baby.”

  Summoning his strength with an inhale, Marcus followed his sister through the parlor and into the kitchen. A handful of people sat around the table. Bryan. Alex holding his infant son. Miriam with an arm tucked around Lilly. Claire took the chair on Lilly’s other side and tugged Marcus down between her and Bryan.

  She scooted a mug in front of him, then scanned the faces around the table. “I’m sure we’ve all been praying through the afternoon, but we thought it would be good to join together for a moment.” His bossy little sister, never afraid to take the lead.

  Claire reached under the table and gripped his hand. “Would someone like to start? Then we can take turns as your heart leads.”

  Marcus swallowed. He was the reverend in town. Always the one who led prayers and kept God in the center of the conversation. Yet he had nothing for these people. Completely dry.

  “I’ll start.”

  Thank the Lord for Bryan. Claire really had married a good man.

  Marcus bowed his head as his brother-in-law’s deep baritone rumbled through the room. His prayer was simple. Not wordy, just like the man. A simple expression of trust that God would lead them to the child. A request for guidance.

  When Bryan’s voice drifted away, Miriam spoke up, raising her plea for Dahlia’s safety and peace during the ordeal. Next came Alex, then Claire. The common theme across each petition reigned strong—prayer for God’s guidance and intervention in the situation.

  The words sank around Marcus’s heart like a millstone, weighing him down. What an idiot he’d been. From that first promise he’d made Lilly, up on the mountain, he’d carried the weight of her safety on his shoulders. As if he had any real power to control what happened around her and Dahlia. He’d gone about town on a crusade to save the women he loved by his own efforts. As if he were the one all-knowing and omnipotent, who knew this precise moment where that sweet child was hidden away.

  Dropping his head, Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. God, I’m so sorry. Words didn’t seem adequate to express the depth of his remorse. How could he have fallen into such a trap of self-importance? I’m sorry, Father. Forgive me.

  With his head bent low, the weight gradually fell away from his shoulders. Marcus breathed in the sweet aroma of humility. And forgiveness.

  ~ ~ ~

  LILLY COULDN’T BREATHE when Claire led her back to the bedroom she and Dahlia had shared. Her baby.

  Claire took her hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed.

  “Have a sip of tea, Lilly. And breathe.”

  The warm solidity of a porcelain mug touched her palm, and Lilly wrapped her hands around it.

  “Drink.”

  Lilly glanced at Claire’s face. Tender. Earnest. She took a sip.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?”

  She pinched her lips together. “I don’t want to sleep.” Not when Dahlia was out in the cold. Hungry. With that…man. Steeling her jaw, she forced her mind not to think of the possibilities.

  “We’ll keep praying, Lilly. God will lead the men to her. I know it.”

  Lilly swallowed.

  Claire rose and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Lie down now. You’ll need rest for tomorrow.”

  As Claire’s footsteps padded away and the door clicked behind her, Lilly stared at the wood paneling on the wall across the room. Claire and the others seemed so certain God would fix this. That God was caring for Dahl
ia even now. How could they believe so steadfastly? And did they really believe? Or were their prayers merely desperate words to make them feel better?

  She dropped her face into both hands. Her heart wanted to believe. Wanted to trust in someone other than herself, for she’d failed Dahlia so miserably to this point. But did God really care?

  “God.” The whisper leaked from her throat with raw anguish. “If You’re trustworthy, if You care, bring my daughter back to me. Please. You can have anything You want from me, if You’ll just bring her back.”

  ~ ~ ~

  MARCUS BLINKED scratchy eyes in the darkness and listened. Sounds drifted from another room, dishes clanging, voices murmuring. And the rich aromas of coffee and fried ham. Light glowed from the crack under the door. Where was he?

  He sat up, focusing his gaze around him. Claire and Bryan’s parlor. The awful truth of it all crashed around him as he rubbed his forehead and lumbered to his feet. Dahlia was out there somewhere. They had to start looking again.

  He’d slept in his clothes on a pallet in the corner, easier than traipsing home and back again. As he pulled on his boots, Marcus sent up a prayer for guidance in the search.

  The kitchen door opened, spilling light into his dark room. Claire’s profile outlined in the open frame. “I thought I heard you up. Coffee’s on and Bryan’s almost ready to head out with you.”

  Marcus straightened and followed her toward the smells. His stomach let loose a loud rumble. He blinked at the flood of light and stopped in the doorway.

  Lilly stood at the stove, her long black braid swinging halfway down her back as she worked. She turned at his entrance, and the deep shadows under her dark eyes speared him. Had she slept at all?

  Every instinct in him craved to wrap her in his arms and rub away the pain and despair. But he had to tread carefully. He skirted the table to stand beside her.

  Ham and potatoes sizzled in the frying pan, and she kept her focus there as she turned them with a fork. They stood, side by side, for long minutes. What could he say? He had no words of comfort. Nothing he hadn’t already said.

  His body craved contact with hers, yet he couldn’t pull her into his arms. Especially not with Claire scurrying around between the counter and table behind them. So he settled for brushing his fingers across the back of her arm, just above her elbow.

  She didn’t stiffen, so he used his thumb to apply gentle, steady strokes. Was it his imagination or did she lean into him?

  “I’m going to check on Bryan.”

  Marcus glanced back at Claire and nodded. Giving them time alone? He’d take it.

  Quiet settled over the room, save the sizzle of food in the pan. And a sniff from Lilly.

  Was she crying? He leaned forward to glimpse her face, and the moisture running down it. That was the last straw. Marcus reached both hands around her and pulled her close to his chest. She sank into him.

  His eyes drifted closed as he wrapped one hand around her waist and the other around her shoulders, breathing in the aroma that was uniquely hers. A sob shook her back, and he stroked her arm, rubbing circles against the sleeve of her dress. “We’re going to find her, Lilly. God will lead us to her.”

  She didn’t answer, but her fingers slid across his chest, gripping his shirt with both fists.

  Lord, give her peace.

  For several long minutes he held her while shudders shook her body every so often. Marcus infused into her every bit of strength and reassurance he possessed.

  At last, she leaned back to look up at him, wiping the dampness from her cheeks as she sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

  He loosened his grip a tiny bit, but not enough for her to pull away. “I’m sorry, too.” He brought the hand that held her shoulders around to wipe away the moisture from her temple. Now was the time. He needed to tell her. “I realized last night I’ve made a mistake. I was relying on myself to take care of you and Dahlia. I’m sorry I did that, Lilly. He’s the only One who can do it. He knows where she is.”

  She nibbled her lip, twin lines forming across her brow, and her gaze lingered somewhere around his chin. What was going through that mind of hers?

  When she didn’t speak, he said, “I’m praying hard He’ll lead us to her today.”

  Lilly raised her focus to his eyes. “I hope so.”

  Something lingered in her gaze. A tiny shoot of faith. Hesitant. But enough to leave Marcus with the feeling that the outcome of this search may have more of an impact on her relationship with the Almighty than any other event in her life could.

  Marcus leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut. She’s yours, Lord. Please show her Your faithfulness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BRYAN EYED the shanty snugged in between two saloons, as the deputy, Chauncey, approached the tilting door. They were deep in the heart of the Cabbage Patch, where most of the residents had either left for the mines or were sleeping off the night’s activities. As a doctor, Bryan had been all through this section over the past couple years. Seemed like these fellows needed patching more than most. He couldn’t remember who occupied this particular place, though.

  Chauncey’s knock yielded no response, so the man gripped the door and eased it open. Not even a latch to hold the thing shut, and at least one of the leather hinges had worn in two.

  “Anyone here?” The deputy had perfected the authoritative tone a man of the law needed when dealing with these ruffians. He peered inside, then glanced back at Bryan. “Don’t see anyone.”

  Bryan motioned him in, then grabbed the door and propped it open. This tiny shack wouldn’t take long to search.

  While Bryan eyed the scant possessions inside, a noise drifted to him. Was that a child whimpering? It might have been the wind, but the hairs on his arms tingled at the sound. Either way, it was coming from outside, behind the cabin.

  He spun for the door. “I’m going to check out back.”

  Chauncey mumbled something, but Bryan didn’t stop to catch the words. There was a narrow opening along one side of the shack, enough for a man to scoot sideways between it and the saloon on the right.

  With his coat on, it was a tight fit, but he finally slipped out the other end. A sea of shacks greeted him, like disorderly gravestones in a cemetery.

  A sound pulled his attention to his left. There, curled into the corner of the shanty and the opposite saloon, sat a tiny figure. Only a sliver of pale skin and wide eyes peered out from under a mass of tangled, dark hair.

  Dahlia.

  The fear emanating from her eyes and her cowed posture clutched at his chest. The child looked like she might bolt any minute.

  Bryan lowered to his haunches. “Dahlia? It’s me, Doc Bryan. I sure am glad to find you. Can I take you back to your mama?” He held out his hand.

  She nodded, not saying a word, but unwrapped herself and started to stand.

  He eased closer and extended his hand for her to take it. The child hesitated, but finally, she slipped her tiny fingers into his palm.

  They pressed through the crack between the buildings, and Chauncey greeted him the moment Bryan stepped onto the boardwalk. “Found her huddled in a corner back there. No sight of anyone else around.”

  Bryan turned to Dahlia and extended both hands. Standing with her arms wrapped around herself, she looked like she might blow away in a stiff wind. She stepped closer and allowed him to pick her up. Tiny little waif.

  Chauncey tried to talk to the little girl, but Dahlia hid her face in Bryan’s neck. Not that Bryan could blame her. The man had a shock of curly red hair and beard that made a person have to look twice.

  Bryan turned to face the deputy. “I’ll take her to her mother. Can you let the others know? Start with Marcus down in the southeast quadrant. Once I get her settled, I’ll come back and help search for the man.”

  They parted, and Bryan made long strides toward home. Miss Lilly had looked two shades darker than death that morning, and he could hardly blam
e her with her daughter in the hands of that despoiler. Marcus had looked a sight better than last night, but the man held too much of the weight of the kidnapping on his own shoulders.

  As he neared the house, he rubbed the child’s back. She hadn’t moved much as they traveled, probably finally collapsed into sleep. Who knew how much, if any, she’d had last night? “We’re here, little flower. Your mama’s gonna be so glad to see you.”

  A whimper greeted his words.

  He hadn’t taken three strides across the porch before the front door jerked open.

  “Dahlia?” Lilly’s voice was almost frantic.

  The child jerked upright and turned. “Mama?”

  Lilly took her daughter in her arms, tears and laughter spilling from her face. Little Dahlia cried, too, and clutched her mother like she’d never let go.

  Bryan stared at the scene, then found his wife’s teary features just beyond them.

  Claire stood behind Lilly, a soft smile lighting her features as she watched the pair. Then her gaze wandered up to his. That look she gave, like he’d just saved the town from an army of ten thousand. He could get used to his woman watching him like that.

  She slipped around Lilly, who wasn’t paying a bit of attention to either of them, and slid under Bryan’s arm. He wrapped her tight, savoring the feel of her. It still seemed too good to be true that this woman not only loved him, but was his.

  Pounding footsteps echoed from the road, and they both turned to look. Marcus, disheveled and drawn, closed the distance with long running strides.

  ~ ~ ~

  MARCUS’S PULSE RACED as he neared the house. The image of Lilly came clearer, clutching the most precious bundle he could imagine.

  He checked himself as he pounded up the steps. This was Lilly’s moment with her daughter. Not his to intrude on. But she turned to him, eyes wet and red-rimmed, but the most beautiful smile shining from her face.