What chance did either George or Martin have? He’d read the record of George Adams’s struggles. What made Martin think his story would end differently? He’d not put Caroline through that pain, no matter what it cost him.
He knelt in front of the cross, sobbing. Because his pocket held the money he’d hidden away in his safe box at the station. All for some crazy idea that he would win enough money to solve George Adams’s problems.
Chapter Eight
After Martin left, Caroline struggled to put her heart into her work. Sally came to her. “Take the afternoon off. Read the journal, go after Martin, or lay down. Whatever will bring you peace.”
Upstairs or outside? As much as she wanted to finish the journal, Caroline couldn’t face the words that had turned Martin a monster. Not yet. Instead she dressed for the weather and headed outside. A dog and a boy cavorted in the snow in front of their house. What innocent joy. Her heart sent out quiet calls for help, for God to heal the hurt inside.
She ambled in the direction of the church, quietly singing hymns she had memorized in childhood. God’s peace soothed the jagged edges of her spirit. His Spirit urged her, “Go to Martin, at the church.”
Caroline paused on the sidewalk, hesitant. The last time she’d such a strong compulsion was when she left Charlotte.
“Go to church.”
“Let’s get to the church.” Sally appeared at Caroline’s elbow. “God told me to join you.” Caroline’s sense of urgency grew with every step.
Martin opened the church door when they were only a couple of yards away. “Caroline. Sally.” The twisted features on his face looked more wild than troubled, and Caroline was glad they had found him.
Pastor Saunders blew past Martin before he could say anything further. “Come inside, everyone.” He led them down the side aisle to a small room behind the altar, where a small stove kept the room warm. “I saw you praying, Martin, and decided to join you when the others came.”
“You don’t understand.” Martin struggled to stand but the pastor kept his hand clamped on his shoulder, making him unable to move from the chair. “I have to go.”
“You’re not leaving here until you finish wrestling with God. He won’t let you escape any more than Jacob did,” the pastor said. “Don’t try to tell me you’re going to do something that God told you to do.”
Caroline’s head whipped from one to the other, uncertain what was happening.
Pray. Uncertain, compelled, she knelt beside Martin and put her hand on the bench. Although she didn’t know the nature of the problem, God did. The words from the Lord’s Prayer ran through her mind. Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name.
“It’s the only way.” Martin dug his heels in the carpet, trying to escape.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Whatever will bring about Your will in Martin’s life, to further Your kingdom. Give us this day our daily bread. Give Martin what he needs right now.
Someone joined her on the floor—Sally maybe. Today they were God’s servants, angels lifting up Martin in battle.
Martin writhed in the chair. “I have to make restitution for what I’ve done.” Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. Forgiveness is his. He doesn’t have to earn it. Open his eyes. Help him forgive those who have sinned against him.
That thought silenced Caroline for a moment. Help me to forgive my father.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“God never leads us to sin.” The pastor’s words cut the air.
Martin moaned as if in pain.
Caroline’s prayer continued in a silent cry. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Turn Martin’s heart from the tempter. Deliver him from the evil that wants him to flee out the door.
A hand came down hard on Caroline’s shoulder. “She shouldn’t be here.” Although his hand felt like a rock, Martin’s voice had calmed.
Caroline opened her eyes and looked at the fear in Martin’s eyes. “God told me to come.”
“God told you?” Martin scoffed. “God has nothing to do with this.”
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen. “God is always involved.”
“Yes. Which means we reap what we sow. Isn’t that right, preacher?”
Pastor Saunders slowly nodded. “‘For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.’ Your sins have been forgiven.”
“It’s not God’s forgiveness I’m worried about.” Martin slumped over the chair. “If I don’t go after Dawson and take care of the debt, he’ll stay on Adams’s trail until he finds him.”
“Dawson.” The pastor sucked in his breath.
Adams’s trail? Dawson? Caroline remembered that name. “My father owes Dawson more money?” Her voice sounded hollow. She almost fell over, but stayed rooted to the spot. Our Father who art in heaven. “Dan Dawson is on his way to Horse Flicker?”
At the mention of his name, Sally took a seat on the pew. “Oh Lord.”
“He’s in town now.” Martin’s chuckle ended in a groan. “He made sure to let me know where the action would be.”
“I warned him in God’s name to stay away from Horse Flicker if he valued his life.” Pastor Saunders looked angrier than any preacher Caroline had ever encountered.
Rocking back and forth, she heard enough of the conversation to confirm that Dan Dawson was the “Dapper Dan” her father had referred to on the riverboats, someone he sought to avoid. The man was the worst sort of gambler, a cheat who rigged both cards and roulette wheels to his advantage. A friendly poker game was rarely friendly, with fortunes and families lost on a sleight of hand. Her father had experienced it all, including the bodily harm when debts weren’t settled.
Martin and the pastor were arguing about how best to deal with the degenerate.
Caroline stopped rocking, and let the dizziness pass. Once her mind had cleared, she pushed herself to a standing position. Sally patted the pew next to her, but Caroline didn’t sit.
She cleared her throat, but the men paid no attention. She spoke in her clearest voice. “If Mr. Dawson knows anything about my father, I need to meet him.”
That got the men’s attention. The voices ringing from the rafters halted until silence pounded on their closed ears. Martin and the pastor turned to Caroline as one.
“You can’t meet Dawson,” Pastor Saunders said.
“Absolutely not,” Martin echoed.
Satisfied that she had drawn attention away from their argument, Caroline lifted her chin. “I can. I finish whatever I set out to do.”
No one responded. The four of them stood like characters in a tableau. Caroline stood as ramrod straight as a soldier, her eyes boring into Martin’s. A smiling Sally inserted herself between the battling parties.
The outside door rattled and brought them back to life. Mrs. Saunders entered, bearing a tea tray. “I saw people over here. I’ve found it’s always easier to talk over a cup of tea.”
The five of them made a tight fit in the room, the ladies on a pew, the men on chairs. Martin lounged against the wall.
No one spoke while Mrs. Saunders served the tea. Her husband sipped the tea from his cup. Martin stared at his drink, imagining a tumbler of whiskey instead. He’d never been a heavy drinker, but that temptation rose up along with everything else that had been bothering him ever since he heard Dawson’s name again. His hand trembled as if his body craved alcohol. He leaned forward, added a teaspoon of sugar, and drank it quickly. The trembling stopped.
After everyone finished the tea, Mrs. Saunders turned to Sally. “Mrs. Gibbs, would you come with me to the parsonage?”
Sally’s mouth flapped like a fish with a hook in its mouth, but she nodded. Before she left, she shook her finger at the men. “You two treat my girl right, or you’ll answer to me.”
“And me.” Mrs. Saunders repeated the words wit
h a sweet smile, but with clear meaning in her tone.
Martin bristled, but the pastor’s expression told him to hold on to his temper. The departing ladies were upset with all of them—Martin in particular.
The door shut and silence reigned for a minute. Caroline spoke first. “Sit down.” She patted the loveseat next to her. “I promise I won’t bite.” She smiled, breaking the tension that could have brought down a lightning bolt a few minutes earlier.
As soon as Martin joined Caroline on the cushion, he felt every inch of her trim figure next to him. Dusty knees marked the spot where she had knelt next to him praying for his soul. No wonder he was so twisted inside. He couldn’t expect to wrestle God and win, any more than he could win play against Dawson and win. His jaw tightened. He had to do something.
Caroline took the lead. “I know you only want to protect me. Perhaps you think I’m putting myself in danger by making Mr. Dawson aware of my existence.”
She smiled when she said that. The pastor and Martin locked gazes, but then he nodded for Martin to speak.
Martin closed his eyes and pled with God that Caroline would listen. “No one walks into a den of lions on purpose. You’re right. Once Mr. Dawson becomes aware of your existence, your connection to George Adams, he has additional ammunition against both of you.” His eyes begged her not to endanger herself. Didn’t she realize how important she was to him?
Her smile didn’t diminish. “Your arguments echo the same things my pastor in Charlotte told me before I left. Although I have not yet quite accomplished my goal, God has brought me safely every step of the way, connecting me with exactly the right people right up to the time I arrived in Kansas and Sally made Christmas so memorable for the three of us.” Her eyes swam with warmth, inviting him to recall those days they had spent together, and how enjoyable their time together was.
How should he respond? What fool had allowed her to travel unaccompanied across the country? Did she have anyone? Her mother had died, her father absent.
If Caroline hadn’t left Charlotte, they wouldn’t have met. She looked at him, as if willing him to admit God’s providence. “I rejoice in the fact that we met—and regret the events that made it happen.”
“As do I.” She bit her lower lip. “There is something you don’t know. Mr. Dawson already knows about me. Papa wrote about him in his journal. Before he discovered his true nature, my father told him about his family and the sum he had accumulated to return to Charlotte.”
The pieces fell in place. Martin said, “And Dawson didn’t stop until he won every cent your father had saved. But he doesn’t know you’re in Horse Flicker and not back in Charlotte.”
Her smile dimmed. “That’s true. Do you know—did Dawson do the same thing to Papa when he found him here?”
Martin pushed his hands against his forehead, too distressed to speak. Dawson preyed on the weak, men fighting to free themselves from gambling. He waited until they thought they’d had it beat, then swooped in, took their money and their hope.
Even in Horse Flicker, Kansas.
The pastor cleared his throat. “Neither one of you has any business engaging with Mr. Dawson. He may know of your existence, Miss Adams, but there’s no need to let him know you are close, where he can lay his hands on you.”
Next, the pastor turned to Martin. “And you cannot see the man again. You will go in with the purest of intentions and not leave until your pockets and your soul are empty. You told Miss Adams that she should not enter a den of lions. Preach to yourself, brother.”
Caroline gasped, and Martin winced. “It’s best you know the worst of me. A beautiful lady such as yourself should stay far away from a man like me. Like your father, I joined the Pony Express to escape the temptations of gambling. After three months on the trail, I hoped I had beaten the old devil back from my soul. God forgive me. I understand your father all too well. I am the man he was, fleeing his family with hopes of winning a big stake to make up for everything.”
“Martin.” Her soft voice tempted him to look at her.
He refused. He couldn’t resist the temptation of her honest eyes.
Chapter Nine
Enough.” Pastor Saunders pounded his fist against the chair. “Someone must confront Mr. Dawson. Neither one of you”—he pointed to Caroline and Martin—“is that person. I’m not certain if I’m that person either, at least not by myself. I will resolve the question before night falls tomorrow.”
When he stood, his fierce features and height made him intimidating. “Miss Adams, do I have your word that you will not seek out this man before we speak again?”
Caroline took a moment to answer. What if Dawson skipped town? “I will wait—unless he tries to leave.” The pastor’s eyes burrowed into hers, but she refused to back down.
“Very well. So that leaves Martin.” The pastor’s expression softened but his stance remained as erect as before. “I have concerns about you spending the night alone.”
Martin’s jawline worked. Caroline felt badly for his struggle. If she hadn’t entered his life, he would find it easier to resist Dawson’s temptation. If not for her father, he wouldn’t even consider it. Oh my, what a mess, to hurt the first man she’d met who made her think in terms of marriage and family. “I’ll be praying for you.”
Martin’s eyes flashed in her direction, a soft light glowing in them. He took her hand and squeezed it.
“As you have been since you arrived at the church tonight. But you cannot spend the night together alone, even in church.” Pastor Saunders tapped his chin in thought.
The men locked eyes, unspoken communication passing between them.
Caroline tapped her boot heel on the floor. “It would help if I knew exactly what I’m praying for. Are you going to flush out Mr. Dawson to cause him physical harm? Do you intend to sit down to play with him? Are you going to defend my honor—or my father’s?” Her voice rose with each word. She breathed deeply and strove to speak calmly. “I have as much interest in what goes down with Mr. Dawson as either of you. More, perhaps. Look at what he did to my father.” Tears pushed against her eyelids, but she refused.
“Martin, what do you have to say?” the pastor asked.
“Do I want to do any of the actions you listed? You bet. I know how much money your father owes Dawson, to the penny, and I can help. I have a sum of money saved.”
Martin looked at the pastor, his eyes pleading. “Is it so wrong to ask God’s blessing to increase the money I have to the point where the debt is satisfied?” He leaned forward until his face was only inches from the pastor’s. “Is gambling always a sin? Give me a chapter and verse. I dare you. I have looked, seeking something to hold on to when the temptation is strong.”
Caroline had to clamp her mouth shut. Gambling had destroyed lives and families, like hers. When her cousins bet on racehorses, they laughed at her penny-pinching ways. They charged her with not believing in the quality of the family’s business. She, too, wanted to hear the pastor’s answer.
Pastor Saunders pushed his chair back. “We have discussed the reasons not to gamble more than once. You’ve written them down. You could probably repeat them to me. But no, there is no verse specifically against gambling.” He paused. “But that kind of thinking is exactly the reason why you need to spend the night wrestling with the Lord with your question, and see what answer you receive.”
The battle raged through Martin and pulsed in his temples. Although she kept her eyes open, Caroline prayed he would accept the help the pastor offered. Even Jesus asked His closest friends to pray with Him before He went to the cross.
With a final groan Martin sank to his knees. “God help me.”
Caroline let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, pushing down against the loveseat. As long as both men remained in the room, she wouldn’t leave.
Pastor Saunders stood. “Miss Adams, you must leave.”
Caroline started to protest.
“Because your prese
nce will hinder Martin’s ability to bare his soul before the Lord. But you may stay at the parsonage.” The pastor placed his hand on her shoulder. “My wife has held up my arms in prayer, as Joshua assisted Moses, many times. I urge you to keep vigil for Martin with her.”
Martin shifted his eyes one way and the other. At last he looked at her. “Please.”
The single word undid Caroline, and she agreed to leave. Sorrow settled over her like a shroud as she headed for the door.
Before she touched the knob, he said, “When this is done, you and I will talk.”
The tender look in his eyes lightened Caroline’s heart. “Yes. But won’t my arrival disturb your wife?”
Pastor Saunders shook his head. “She has come to expect me at any time of night.”
Caroline crossed the lawn to the parsonage with a spring in her step. The door opened before she knocked. “I thought you might come this way.” Mrs. Saunders took her guest’s coat and hat. “God is good. The children are playing quietly at the moment. Would you care for something to eat?”
Caroline’s mind flew to the men in the study.
Mrs. Saunders must have anticipated her concern. “Don’t worry about the men. I’ll take care of them before much longer. So which shall it be? Food or fellowship? We have a guest room where you may retire.”
“Conversation.” Caroline decided. “I’ve never had a man vex me so.”
“Ah. The truth speaks.” Humor sparkled in her hostess’s eyes. “He vexes you because you care for him. And he is torn because he cares for you.”
The Pony Express Romance Collection Page 18