Magdalena had long ago outgrown jealousy, and if her father and Raphael benefitted from their contact with one another, then she’d be happy for them.
The sound of multiple horses approaching met her ears, and a feeling of unease settled. Was it a new group of deputies, or could it be the men who were after Raphael had returned? Her heart pounded in her chest, and she quickly moved to the front door, bolting the new reinforced lock in place.
She calmly turned toward the children. “Okay, everyone,” she smiled. “This is a drill and I want you to quickly join me in the center of the room. The children gathered quickly, and without fear. She’d practiced this with them several times, hopeful that if danger returned, they would be prepared and able to obey her wishes flawlessly and quickly.
Magdalena opened the hatch to the large hole Sully’s men had cut into the floor of the schoolroom and encouraged the children to jump down into the hand-dug cellar. “Shh!” She whispered. “No talking. You must be completely silent until you hear my voice telling you otherwise, no matter what. Understood?”
“Yes, Miss. Allen,” they whispered in unison.
“Okay,” she smiled, “down with you all.”
Once the last child jumped down, she closed and locked the hatch, then moved the rug and two desks back into place. Then she moved to her desk and opened a book.
No sooner had she opened her book — the door to the classroom burst open, the reinforced lock shattered, and her worst fears were realized. She squared her shoulders.
The man who had threatened her and the children walked through the door.
“Can I help you?” She asked, praying for a calm spirit. “Where are the children?” He asked in broken English.
“They are not here. They are on a field trip today.”
“You lied to me,” he threatened.
“I beg your pardon?” She asked, feigning genuine confusion.
“You lied to me,” he repeated a cruel twist on his lips.
“I did not lie to you,” Magdalena countered confidently.
“Pablo was here,” he accused.
“We have never had a Pablo here,” she confirmed. “The children here are orphans.”
“You lie!” He yelled. “Jose, bring the sister here!” He demanded.
One of his gunmen pulled Sister Margaret in by her hair.
“No!” Magdalena yelled as she rose. “Please don’t,” she pleaded, moving quickly around her desk toward the sister.
“Stop!” He yelled. “Then tell me where Pablo is.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” Magdalena pleaded. “The children are not here and I know no such child named Pablo.”
The gunman hesitated.
“Please,” she pleased. “Let the Sister go, she is a saint, and you should not harm her.”
“And you?” He asked, “You are not a saint?”
“I’m not,” she confirmed. “I am not a sister. I am not Catholic. I am a volunteer.”
“Come here,” he demanded.
Magdalena moved toward him, praying that the children would stay quiet. She wondered where the deputies were—the men Sully had left in charge.
“If you are not a Saint, then you will lie to me,” he accused.
“I’m not lying to you.” She assured him before he struck her down.
Magdalena flew several feet across the room, the blow nearly rendering her unconscious.
“You are lying to me, teacher,” he sneered, “and I know that for a fact.”
Magdalena pushed herself up from the floor with a groan. “I’m not,” she insisted.
He raced toward her, kicked her in the ribs, and she rolled on her side.
“Please,” she whispered, “I’m not.”
He kicked her again, and she went quiet.
“Get the sisters,” he instructed the two men behind him. “Bring them out into the yard.”
He kicked Magdalena in the head a final time for good measure and then turned his back on her.
* * *
When Sister Theresa was pulled from her room, she had a vision that this would be her last day on earth. The men pulled one of the other sisters out with her, but she had successfully hidden the third, instructing her to run to town to get help.
Sister Theresa stood boldly before the leader of the outlaws. “You.”
“Yes,” an evil smile spread across his face. “I came back because you refused to die the first time.”
Sister Theresa looked the outlaw in the eyes. “Ah, but you are a fool because you cannot kill me.” Sister Margaret begin to cry at her side and Sister Theresa spoke louder than before. “You cannot kill me because to die on this earth is gain,” she explained. “So even if God wills that my body dies—if God so wills,” she emphasized, “you cannot kill my spirit. But I will pray for you,” she promised. “I will pray for your souls.” She glanced at each of the men, saddened when she saw only dark, soul-deadened eyes.
The gunman raised his gun and put one bullet directly through Sister Theresa’s heart.
She shuttered, then peace covered her face, and she dropped to the ground.
“You’re next, sister,” he warned, turning toward Sister Margaret. No sooner had he said those words than a red stain appeared on his chest. Sister Margaret screamed and dropped to the ground.
Gunshots echoed throughout the schoolyard, and then suddenly everything was silent.
Sully yelled, “Jim and Dwane, to the schoolroom! Carl and Dudley, to the main building!”
Sully moved to Sister Margaret, and she raised her head. “I am all right. Go—help the children,” she instructed, turning her attention to Sister Theresa.
Sully ran toward the schoolroom, praying Magdalena and the children were all right. He entered and found Jim holding Magdalena in his arms. “The children are still locked below. Magdalena is unconscious but alive.”
“Take her to Doc Holloway’s. He’s just arrived. I’ll deal with the children.”
Jim nodded, moving toward the door.
“Hurry,” Sully urged.
“Yes, Sheriff,” Jim acknowledged, running with Magdalena in his arms.
THIRTY-FIVE
Magdalena heard voices. Was that Claire? “Claire,” she croaked.
“Mags, Mags! Lance, she’s awake!”
Magdalena groaned, “It hurts.” She moaned, moving her arm to her side.
“Mags, it’s okay. It’s Claire and I’m here with Lance.”
“Lance?” Magdalena moaned. “He’s mad at me,” she whispered.
“Magdalena, I’m right here,” he assured her. “Open your eyes for me, Magdalena” he encouraged.
But she couldn’t.
* * *
Magdalena opened her eyes. Her body ached and her side felt like a longhorn named Colossal had bunted her with his horns and sent her flying over his corral.
She blinked, closed her eyes and then opened them again. Was she seeing things? “Dad?” She managed. “Maggie!” He whispered tears in his eyes.
“Maggie?” She wondered. That’s Dad’s nickname for me. I’m dreaming, she reasoned.
“No, Maggie, It’s me. It’s Dad,” he promised. “Look at me, baby,” he demanded.
“You’re always so bossy,” she whispered.
He laughed. “It’s true, Maggie, I am. Look at me,” he demanded again sternly.
But she couldn’t keep her eyes open. It hurt too much.
* * *
“Magdalena?” This time it sounded like Lance’s voice.
“I’m dreaming,” she whispered.
“No, Magdalena,” he corrected, “you’re not dreaming. I’m really here. It is me, it’s Lance. Open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, Magdalena.”
Her eyes fluttered. “Open them, now.” He insisted.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Lance? Is that you? You’re back?”
“I'm back,” he smiled, cupping her face. “Keep your eyes open for me, okay?”
“Okay,” she whis
pered with a smile, then groaned. “Get off my ribs,” she moaned.
“It’s not me, Magdalena, you have broken ribs and a concussion, but you’re going to be okay.” He whispered.
Are those tears in his eyes? She wondered as she closed her eyes.
“Magdalena. Don’t close your eyes,” he said sternly. “Open them for me.”
She opened her eyes, “It hurts,” she admitted. “Is Raphael okay? The sisters?”
Lance paused, “Raphael is doing well and he asked about you, Magdalena, and he wants us to visit as soon as we can.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Lance?”
“Yes, Magdalena?”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
She could hear it in his voice—he had missed her, and he wanted her to keep her eyes open, but that was mean. She was tired. So tired.
* * *
“Magdalena?” It was Claire’s voice this time. “Mags, seriously, wake up!”
Magdalena moved. Her chest didn’t hurt quite as bad. “Claire?”
“Yes, yes, it’s me, Mags!”
Magdalena opened her eyes as Claire moved away from the bed. “Where are you going?” Magdalena asked.
“You’ve been out for days, Mags. I need to let Lance know you’re awake.”
“No!” Magdalena argued, then she yelped, “Ouch! He’s too bossy. I don’t need him.”
“Oh, Mags. You have no idea. Your dad is here and Lance is here, and everyone wants to know that you’re okay. I have to let them know.”
Magdalena opened her eyes. She really opened her eyes and looked around. “I’m at your house,” she rubbed her temple, then winced.
“You are!” Claire agreed, smiling and happy. “You’re at my house, and you’re okay, Mags. You’re going to be okay,” she squeezed her friends hand. “You scared me,” Claire admitted.
“I’m sorry.” Magdalena scowled. “Can you help me up?”
“Don’t you even think about it,” Claire warned, and the door behind her opened.
“Magdalena?”
First, it was Lance’s voice, then her dad’s. “Lance? Dad—what are you doing here? I thought you were just a dream,” she admitted.
“Let me see those honey-brown eyes of yours,” Lance insisted, hovering above Magdalena’s face, gently turning her face toward his.
“You’re less bossy,” she observed.
“Don’t get used to it, Magdalena,” he advised. “It’s only for today.”
“I’ll take it,” she smiled, closing her eyes. “Can you help me?” She groaned. “Is someone sitting on my chest? It hurts.”
Everyone was silent.
“You have a few broken ribs, Magdalena.” He explained.
“The gunmen!” Magdalena tried to sit up, but then cried out in pain. Lance pressed her down gently.
“They’re gone, Magdalena. They’re gone and you are safe.” He looked into her eyes.
“Everyone?” She moaned. “Is everyone okay?”
“Raphael is in Philadelphia, and all the children are safe. Your Dad came all the way from Philadelphia.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
“Rest, Magdalena, I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
Doctor Allen, Claire, and Sully all left the room, but Doc Holloway stayed. Claire and Sully had told him that Magdalena had truly cared about him, and that she’d planned to tell him about her father’s ultimatum. Doctor Allen had also confessed that Magdalena had told him that although she did not approve of his methods, she had indeed fallen in love with the man she hoped to marry, and that she couldn’t wait for them to meet.
He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his, feeling for her pulse, reminding himself that God had spared her—she was going to be okay—and once she was well, he was going to ask her to marry him.
THIRTY-SIX
Magdalena stood over Sister Theresa’s grave. Claire stood beside her, her arm around her shoulder. “She was a saint in every sense of the word.”
“She was, Mags, she truly was, and you know what?”
“What?” Magdalena asked, sadness weighing her voice.
“She told the gunman that she would pray for him, did you know that? And she told him that he couldn’t kill her because the worst that could happen is that her soul would go to Paradise.”
“I know,” Magdalena acknowledged. “But thank you for reminding me.” Her eyes filled with tears—the painful kind. “I miss her,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Claire agreed, “God must have decided He needed her more there.”
Magdalena smiled, “That’s a beautiful way to look at it,” she agreed.
“Come on, my friend. Let’s go back to my house. Mary said she’d have dinner ready for us, and if I don’t get you back soon, I’ll be in trouble with the doc.”
Claire turned to leave, but Magdalena’s words stopped her.
“I love him.” She stated simply.
“I know you do, Mags. Just give it some time,” Claire encouraged.
“No, I lost him by not being completely honest. That hurts far more than anything else I’ve endured,” she admitted.
“God works in mysterious ways, Mags. Have faith.”
* * *
“Magdalena, will you walk with me?” Lance asked shortly after dinner was over.
Her eyes flew to his. “Yes, of course,” she agreed, admonishing her hopeful heart to quiet down.
He offered her his arm, and she wrapped her arm around his as he led them through the door and down the steps to the Main Street.
“Sister Theresa will be missed. Are you okay?” He asked.
“I’m sad, Lance,” she admitted. “I struggle with wondering if there’s something I could have done to prevent it.”
“You were focused on the children’s safety, as you should have been. As it was—,” he hesitated, “I could have lost you.”
She glanced sideways at him. Had she heard him correctly? “Let’s sit here,” he suggested, placing his hand on the small of her back, directing her toward a bench in front of the town merchant’s store.
“Magdalena—“
“Lance—“
They both started and then laughed.
“You first,” she giggled.
He took her hands in his and she looked at him curiously.
“Magdalena, I’m sorry for my haste and poor reaction when I found out about your father’s ultimatum.”
“I shouldn’t have kept it from you,” she protested, squeezing his hand.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed, his eyes focused on hers, “but I should have been open to listening to you, and hearing your explanation of why you waited to tell me.”
She nodded.
“I spoke with your father when I was in Philadelphia, and he told me what he had done. I don’t think he was proud of it,” Lance paused, “but I think he did what he felt was best for you, at least in his own mind.”
She nodded again, her eyes fixed on his.
“Magdalena, I could have lost you, and it was a necessary awakening on how barebones my facilities are here, and trust me, your father didn’t mince any words when it came to that fact. He loves you, and he was very worried. We all were.”
Where was he going with this? She wondered.
“I’m saying all of this to say that I’ve fallen in love with you,” he smiled, “and while in Philadelphia I asked your father for permission to marry you.”
She squeezed his hand tighter, and her eyes were shining now, but with happy tears.
“Magdalena Allen, will you marry me? I don’t want to waste one more day without you as my wife. There’s no one on this earth who can complete me like you can, and although I know I can be bossy and demanding at times, and that won’t change,” he warned, “I love you. “Will you agree to be my wife?”
Magdalena had tears streaming down her face now. “I thought I’d lost you,” she admitted with a whisper. “I thought I
would never marry, and I was furious with my father and his ridiculous ultimatum, but you changed all that, Lance.” She glanced down at his hands holding hers. “Yes, yes I will marry you! I love you,” her eyes shone into his.
He gathered her into his arms and held her tight. “I don’t want a long engagement,” he admitted.
“I don’t either,” she agreed. “Let’s have something small and—soon,” she blushed.
She gasped as his fingers brushed a wisp of her hair back from her face.
“I won’t change who I am, Magdalena, but I can promise you that I will always take care of you, do what’s best for you, and love you with all my heart. Can you accept that?”
She laughed. ‘I’ll try to be better about letting you do that,” and then her eyes grew wide as his hands circled her waist. “I—I’ll telegraph my father tomorrow,” she assured him breathlessly.
“Maybe we should draft that telegram tonight, my beautiful bride-to-be," he suggested, as his lips claimed hers.
EPILOGUE
“Magdalena Allen, do you take Doctor Lance Holloway to be your wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death you do part, according to God's holy ordinance?”
Magdalena paused for just a moment. Lance’s left eyebrow raised ever so slightly and she bit her lower left lip. “Yes, I do,” she agreed with a mischievous smile.
Lance’s eyes smiled back. She was really marrying this handsome, intelligent, kind, and very bossy man. The butterflies in her stomach did a perpetual dance every time she was near him, and now he would be hers and she would be his.
Lance took Magdalena’s hands in his, running his thumb gently inside her palm. Her breath hitched, her eyes widened, and her heart pounded in her chest. “With this Ring,” his voice continued low and strong, “I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
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