by Lisa Harris
“I was enjoying your playing.” He bent over and kissed the top of her head. “Up until the last chord, that is.”
“Very funny.”
Rebecca drew her arms around her father’s waist and laid her head against his shoulder, wishing she were a little girl again. As a child nothing had really mattered, because her father had always been able to make everything right. It didn’t seem quite so easy anymore. Spilled milk was much easier to mop up than a broken heart was to mend.
Her father rubbed the back of her head with his hand. “You miss him, don’t you?”
“Samuel?”
“Actually, I was thinking about Luke.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “I know we all still miss Samuel. Always will for that matter.”
“It still hurts.” Rebecca frowned. “There’s a hole in my heart that will never be filled.”
“I know. I feel it, as well. Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I’ve forgotten he’s not here anymore. Then it all hits me that he’s never coming back.”
“At least I’m not blaming God for Samuel’s death anymore.”
Her gaze drifted across the snow-laden landscape to where the lacy boughs of the elm trees stood in all of winter’s glory. The flowers had faded away with promises to return in the spring. God had created this world full of beauty and goodness. It was man who had corrupted it with evil.
“What about Luke? You haven’t spoken of him lately.”
Rebecca nudged her father with her elbow. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
He squeezed her shoulder. “When it comes to my children, am.”
She wished she knew how to put her feelings into words.
She had no doubt that the stress of the past few weeks had altered her sensibility. “I haven’t heard from him for weeks.”
“There could be a number of explanations. Recovering from an accident isn’t easy.” He smiled. “Besides, I don’t know a man alive who would win a blue ribbon for letter writing.”
Her father’s positive outlook did little to change her somber mood. She’d tried to justify Luke’s lack of communication without avail; yet there had to be an explanation. “If nothing else, he could dictate a letter to his mother or send me a telegram.”
“That’s true, but I’d hate for you to make any snap judgments without knowing exactly what’s going on.” Her father turned her head toward him then looked into her eyes. “Because of my pride I almost lost your mother. Don’t shut a door because of fear. Trust is a decision, Rebecca.”
He was right, and she knew it. It just seemed like forever since she’d told Luke good-bye. Sometimes she was certain he’d only been a dream. Her mind tried to make sense of the storm of emotions raging within her. Her feelings might be irrational, but that didn’t keep the lingering doubts from intruding.
Rebecca shrugged. “Whatever happens, this has all been good for me in one sense.”
“How is that?”
“I’ve decided to stop second-guessing God.” She pressed her fingers against the edge of the rail. “In talking to Michaela I’ve realized that I’ve been looking for fulfillment in life through marriage and a family. I think what God truly wants is for us to seek Him with all our hearts, no matter what is happening around us.”
Her father smiled again. “Those are pretty wise words coming from my eldest.”
“I don’t know how wise they are, but they do make sense. At least it’s something I’m working on.”
“And what about Boston? Are you planning to go back?”
“I think so.” Gazing out across the white farmland, a part of her wondered how she could ever leave this place again. The other part longed for something more. “I was making a life for myself there. While I missed you terribly—”
“You’d better have.”
Rebecca laughed, enjoying the light banter with her father. He was the one person in her life who always made her feel safe and secure. “As I was saying, while I did miss you, I really enjoyed working with Caroline. Plus, making the quilts for the children at the orphanage helped me feel as though I was finally doing something useful with my life. And then there’s Luke …”
“So you’ve discovered God’s will for your life?”
“I’ve discovered that serving Him is His will for my life.”
She’d have to wait and see how Luke fit into that plan.
Luke stared out across the choppy gray water from the edge of the widow’s walk, watching as each ripple followed its intended path to the shore. It was one component of life that never changed. The sea worked in one continuous rhythm, pressing wave after wave toward the shore. It was like the plan for summer to turn into autumn, and autumn into winter. It was all part of God’s design.
If only life were that simple. But it wasn’t. Luke had spent his entire life doing the predictable, but now he was finally ready to break away. Leaning against the wooden rail, he watched the white sails of a ship make its way toward the harbor. There would be no more voyages for him. No more rush of adrenaline as his whaling boat slid into the surf, prepared for the hunt. The only trip he had plans to make was one to Cranton—and Rebecca.
She’d been on his mind since the moment he had kissed her good-bye. He dreamed about their starting a life together—something that had been impossible before the accident. Only one obstacle hung between them. Her letters were full of colorful anecdotes of her family. The joy she felt being with them again was obvious. Once she decided to stay in Cranton for good, it would be only a matter of time before Boston would become nothing more than a faded memory.
It was something the two of them would have to discuss. While he had no longings to captain his own vessel, his desire to build ships had grown stronger. Dwight Nevin assured Luke that as soon as he recovered from the accident, he would have a job at the shipyard. What he ultimately dreamed of, though, was having his own shipbuilding company. Something he could never do in Cranton.
He’d found a verse in Romans chapter twelve that had become pivotal in helping him answer the lingering questions. It was so significant that he’d committed it to memory. “And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.” The verse was clear. In order to find out what God’s will was in his life, it was necessary for him not only to be unconformed to this world, but also to be transformed by His Spirit.
For the past few weeks he’d done more than simply work to restore his physical condition. He’d taken the time to delve deeply into God’s Word. He realized how he’d always done what was expected of him—and that God might have something else in mind for his life. It was time to trust fully in Christ for everything he needed. Even if that meant going against a long-standing family tradition. It was time to tell his mother how he felt.
Turning, he made his way slowly across the balcony and down the narrow stairs into the house. The muscles in his leg burned beneath him, but he refused to give in to the pain. The past few weeks had brought about remarkable progress. Three days ago he’d thrown away the wooden walking stick. Now he worked to make sure each step was steady so he didn’t shuffle across the floor.
He found his mother in the kitchen, fussing over a simmering pot of soup. Bowls and pans lay strewn across the countertops. His mother’s interest in cuisine was nothing new but remained a fact that amused Luke, considering she had a full-time cook and seldom ate what she prepared.
“Where have you been, Luke?” She glanced up, a marked look of frustration across her face. “Vincent Sawyer and his family will be here in less than thirty minutes for dinner. He’s looking for some new men for his crew, and now that you’re walking again—”
“Mother, I’m not going on another voyage.” The words came out sooner than he intended, but he wasn’t going to put off telling her his decision any longer.
“Of course you are.” She waved the wooden spoon in the air, seemingly dismissing what he�
��d said. “Your leg is almost healed, and by springtime, when the Marella pulls out again, you’ll be as good as new. This isn’t an opportunity to pass up—”
“This has nothing to do with my leg. It has to do with what I plan to do with the rest of my life.” He took a step forward so he could lean against the counter and take some of the weight off his leg. “Being a whaler isn’t my dream.”
The spoon clattered against the tile floor as she turned to him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not going on another voyage.” His jaw clenched with determination. “Not with Captain Sawyer … not with anyone.”
Her face paled. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Instead of the bout of frustration he expected, a growing sense of peace settled over him. “I’m very serious.”
His mother’s shoulders slumped. “I always thought it was your dream. That’s why I’ve encouraged you.”
“It was your dream. Yours and Father’s.” Reaching deep inside, he worked to find the words that would help her understand that he needed to follow his own dreams. “The future isn’t in whaling anymore, and—”
“I’ve heard all the arguments, Luke.” Her face softened, and he detected the hint of a smile behind the wonder in her voice. “What I want to know is how much of this decision has to do with a certain young lady you’ve been pining over the past few weeks.”
Luke shook his head. “I made this decision before the Liberty ever took sail. It was going to be my last voyage. It just ended a bit sooner than I expected.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this was how you felt?”
He’d expected her to put up a fight, but instead she sounded surprisingly relieved with his decision.
“You’ve always told me you wanted me to carry on the family tradition like my father and his father before him. Letting you down has never been easy for me.”
“I’ve been told a time or two that I’m a hard woman to please.” She took a step toward him and gathered his hands between hers, the grin across her face broadening.
“I thought it was what you wanted, so I was determined to ignore my own fears. You can’t imagine how much I dreaded your going off to sea each time. Losing your father was so horrid. I can’t imagine losing you, as well.”
The change in her countenance astonished him but brought a measure of relief at the same time. “Your life has always been so caught up in the sea and family tradition. I was afraid you’d regret my decision.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.” She drew him into her arms for a moment then pulled back and caught his gaze. “There’s still one question you need to answer.”
“What’s that?”
“What are you still doing in Boston when the woman you love is in Cranton?”
sixteen
Rebecca lifted the hem of her heavy wool dress and stormed into the barn, where her brother saddled up his black stallion. She hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation between Adam and Jethro Wright, but their shouts had been loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Jethro’s claims that he had a lead on Samuel’s killer turned her stomach sour, considering she was convinced Jethro simply wanted to get his pudgy fingers on the reward money. He knew Adam well enough to realize her brother would jump at the chance to take revenge into his own hands, which is exactly what Adam had told Jethro. Adam planned to go after the man—alone.
She scurried into the darkened stall, stopping only to catch her breath. “Adam, I heard you and Jethro talking about going after Samuel’s killer. You can’t do this!”
“You can’t stop me, Rebecca.” He finished cinching the girth beneath the horse’s belly then turned to face her. “Have you forgotten this man killed our brother? No one else seems willing to do anything about it—”
“That’s not true. There’s a reward out for his capture, and Sheriff Briggs is following any leads he has.” Desperate to stop him from doing something foolish, she gripped the sleeve of his leather coat. “He’s a killer, Adam, and you’re going to end up his next victim if you’re not careful.”
Jerking away from her clutch, he led the horse into the pale afternoon sunlight. Dark storm clouds were gathering in the east. If he went ahead with this ridiculous quest, the weather might prove just as dangerous. And there was no telling how long it would take to track the man down.
She followed him, not finished with what she had to say. “You’re not thinking straight because you’re too angry. Bounty hunters are already looking for him. We can increase the reward—”
“I’m going after him, Rebecca.” His cheek twitched as he slid into the saddle, grasping a loaded rifle in his hands. “Tell Father I’ll be back when the job is finished.”
“Adam, please …” Lord, I don’t know what to say to convince him.
Adam pulled back on the reins, and the horse whinnied, ready to go. “I have to do this.”
She felt a surge of anger rip through her as she watched Adam head south on the road toward town. How could he be dim-witted enough to go after a murderer by himself? Stomping the heel of her boot against the ground, she weighed her options. Her father had gone into town, and her stepmother had taken the girls to visit one of the neighbors. By the time either of them arrived home, Adam could be miles away.
She glanced at the barn, where the rest of the horses were corralled. She could hear one stamping in the stall, ready for such a task—and she had no time to waste. Running inside the barn, she saddled one of the horses. If she went after Adam herself, she might be able to overtake him and somehow convince him to leave the settling of scores to the bounty hunters.
Moments later she mounted the horse, thankful for the warmth of the wool coat she wore. The horse responded to her urgency and tore off down the winding road. She’d have to keep a steady pace to catch up with Adam.
Please, Lord, protect him from his foolishness. If anything would happen to him …
The thought sent a chill down her spine. She didn’t know her brother anymore. Adam had always been quiet and reserved, but since Samuel’s death all he’d thought about was revenge. Revenge, though, wouldn’t solve anything, and in the process more lives might be taken—possibly Adam’s. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing another brother. The wound from Samuel’s death was still too raw and painful, and she was determined not to live through something like that again if she could help it.
And nineteen years old was far too young to deal with the likes of an experienced gunman. They knew little about Samuel’s murderer, except that he was an immigrant. This fact had given rise to a growing prejudice in Adam’s life and had been further inflamed by men like Jethro who worked to pass on their racist beliefs that never did anything but cause trouble. She knew how deadly the consequences of unrestrained anger and prejudice could be, and the thought of what might happen if Adam carried through on his threats was sobering.
The wind whipped against her face as she followed Adam’s tracks. Just past the Carter homestead, the tracks veered off the main road. She pulled on the reins and slowed the mare. The horse stamped beneath her, not content to stand still. If Adam were headed for the town of Hayes as she thought, cutting across the valley would take a good bit of time off the ride. It would also make him harder for her to track.
The squeaky wheel of a wagon ahead caught her attention. She glanced up the road and sighed with relief as her father’s wagon headed toward her. Nudging the mare with her knees, Rebecca galloped up the road, desperate to lose as little time as possible.
She caught a glimpse of a dark-haired man sitting beside her father then pulled sharply on the reins. The stress of the day was causing her mind to play tricks on her. She’d imagined seeing Luke in the distance a dozen times, but this time …
“Rebecca?” Luke jumped out of the wagon and with a slight limp ran toward her.
She slid down from the horse, certain she was dreaming. It had been so long since she’d heard from him.
“I missed you s
o much.” He lifted her off the ground and swung her around.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Tears of joy streamed down her face at seeing him again. “And you can walk.”
Still holding her hands, he pulled them against his chest. “I wrote and told you. Didn’t you get my letter?”
“No, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m just glad you’re here.” A sharp wind whipped against her face. She hadn’t forgotten the urgency to find her brother. “Something’s happened, Luke.”
“What is it?” His fingers pressed against her arm.
She grabbed the reins of her horse, addressing her father as his wagon stopped beside them. “Adam’s left. He heard a rumor that Samuel’s killer is working north of here. He’s left to go after him.”
A shadow crossed her father’s face. “How long ago did he leave?”
“Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”
“Where’s he headed?”
“North toward Hayes, and he won’t stop until he finds the man. You could go into town and get a posse together.”
Her father adjusted the brim of his hat as he considered the choices. “Going back into town will lose valuable time.”
Luke took a step forward. “I’ll be happy to go with you.”
“You can’t go.” Rebecca shook her head. “What about your leg? You’re still limping, and it could be days before you return—”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve faced worse situations before.”
Don’t go. Not just when I’ve got you back …
This time Rebecca didn’t try to hold back the tears. The strain from the past few weeks, along with Adam’s leaving and the emotional shock of seeing Luke, was more than she could handle. His notion to chase after Adam was as foolish as her brother’s quest to bring in a murderer single-handedly. One of them would get himself killed.
“I just want to help.” Luke’s hand gripped her shoulder. “I’ll be fine—”
“You can’t make me a promise like that.”
“Shh.” He touched her mouth with his fingertips then wiped away her tears.