by Tricia Goyer
“No, they were just trying to get by.”
“Well, for some reason—”
“Probably because he was so worked up about taking you.”
Julia laughed. “For some reason this set Horace off. He ripped into them with a holy anger. ‘You hooligans don’t know how to treat no one with no respek.’”
Shelby jumped up. “Oh, I can just see it.” She spread her feet in a Horace-like stance and pointed a finger at Johannah, who also stood and pretended to be one of the boys. “You better watch yourself, or you’ll be in a heap o’ trouble before you turn sixteen.” Shelby eyed Julia inquisitively. “Is that about right?”
Julia nodded. “Yeah, but he was much worse. He called them crow eaters and dirty varmints. They were pretty mad when they left.”
Elizabeth leaned back and opened the picnic basket, set out a plate of berries, and popped one into her mouth. “So is that how you managed to get away? When he was distracted by the boys?”
Julia shook her head. “No. He kept a grip on me the whole time he was talking to them.” Julia picked up the plate of berries and offered some to Miriam.
Taking a handful, she smiled. “But after the boys left, we tried everything we could to persuade him to give up and let Julia go.”
“I even told him I’d repay his money, but he didn’t believe me.” Julia glanced at the girls. “I probably shouldn’t have said that anyway, since I don’t know how I could possibly pay him back.” Julia remembered the letter from Mrs. Gaffin and shook her head. “Anyway,” she continued, “as we were talking to him, we looked out the front door and there was his mule, you know, the one he calls Ladygirl. She was tied to one of the tent saloons. I tell you—”
“They’re not going to believe it,” Miriam popped in.
“I know!” Julia glanced from face to face. “Those teenaged boys pranced behind that mule, whipping her into a trot—and getting her to pull the whole entire tent saloon behind her! She dragged that saloon right down the middle of Main Street.”
The girls and Elizabeth leaned back on their hands and laughed out loud.
“I can’t imagine the sight,” Elizabeth said. “A saloon just moseying down the street.”
Miriam held her hand to her chest. “Well, Horace ’bout blew his top. He forgot all about Julia and went seekin’ to save his Ladygirl from those boys. So Julia and I soft-footed it out the back of the mercantile and round behind the stable. With the hired man’s help, we got hitched up real fast and put the whip on our horse. We were out of town before Horace even realized it.”
Shelby shook her head. “I never saw anything like that in New York.” She glanced at Johannah. “I did see a lot of other neat things there, though.”
The two girls chattered as they walked to the water and stuck their feet in.
Julia opened the picnic basket and set out the food. “Next time I just don’t know if I’ll be so lucky with Horace. And if he shows up at the ranch again…”
A swift breeze fluttered through, and with it, a butterfly. Julia watched it fly and land on a flower. Elizabeth noticed it, too, and smiled. “You know, if he shows up at the ranch, you’ll have nothing to worry about. Our men’ll make sure of that.”
Julia was grateful for Jefferson’s and Abe’s protection—she certainly needed it—but they weren’t always home.
The children returned to the blanket from swimming and greedily ate up the cornbread and dried meat as well as the apples and cheese they’d brought. As Julia watched them, she felt a part of the family. Yet the sick feeling of loss—always under the surface, always waiting to crowd out her happiness—sprang up again.
Why couldn’t she be a part of their lives? Others knew this type of love and just took it for granted.
She’d spent the last few days thinking about what was to come next—a new life in New York, the academy where she’d work, her own room in Mrs. Gaffin’s home. Before, the knowledge of these opportunities would have been more than she could have hoped for. But now she’d found the prospect of those things sadly lacking. It seemed that no matter where her thoughts took her, she couldn’t find the home her heart so desperately longed for.
A bird called overhead, and she lifted her face. As she watched, it circled once and then swooped down, landing in a high nest in the closest tree.
If only she could find such a place of her own.
From the position of the sun high in the sky, Julia knew it was close to noon. The day was warm—not too hot. And she was thankful. Thankful for the day, her friends, the laughter. If only her own troubled memories didn’t keep pulling her back, the day would be perfect. Almost perfect.
“Well,” Miriam said, the meal finished and the children rambling off, “we’re almost done sewing that skirt of yours. It’s looking mighty fine.”
“Yes, it is looking fine,” Julia said.
“Bea! Oh my, look at you!” Elizabeth stood and trotted over to Bea, who, having finished lunch, now decided to take a little mud bath.
Julia leaned back on her hands, watching Elizabeth dip a rag in the water and wash the grime from Bea’s face.
Miriam cleared her throat. “Now that everyone else is occupied, there’s something I’ve been wantin’ to speak with you about.”
Judging from the tone of Miriam’s voice, Julia knew she had something serious to say. Miriam slanted her legs toward Julia. “I don’t know what happened between you and my brother. The night of his birthday party I saw a look in his eyes that I’d been praying to see for years.”
Julia’s stomach grew taut. She’d maneuvered and sidestepped to avoid this conversation over the past weeks. Miriam had graciously given her the time she needed. Couldn’t she let it go forever? Why did they need to talk about it? She didn’t want to discuss that night. Couldn’t bear to share how much it scarred her. If she could bottle up her feelings inside, maybe they wouldn’t hurt as much. It’s what she’d always done.
She realized that now. Realized how she’d learned to suppress her emotions deeper and deeper over the years. An orphanage, even one with a loving headmistress, wasn’t a place for blabbering about your own heartbreak. Too many others also suffered, perhaps worse than you.
Julia had learned, for her own sake as well as for the girls, to put on a smile. And for the past two weeks, she’d determined not to prattle on about the stabbing ache of loss that accompanied her every movement. And the humiliation she felt for hurting over Isaac.
How foolish I was to think he’d choose me over his promise to God. How absurd to let my feelings take flight so rapidly.
Miriam’s lips pursed together in a frown. “I love my brother, Julia. But he’s got to work out the painful stain his past left on his heart. He wants to serve God—and others—and he’s got the strange notion that marrying will keep him from that. I don’t know how he can get over it.” Miriam’s eyes slanted in concern. “I want him to be happy. He’s suffered a lot in his life.”
Julia’s throat grew raw as she remembered what Isaac had told her about his fiancée. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to remind him of his hurt—to bring it all back.”
“Oh no, sweetie.” Miriam’s voice softened, like a breeze blowing through prairie grass. “You didn’t, or if you did, it was time for him to face it. I just feel so awful that you got caught in the wake of his struggle. I’ve seen how much you hurt, and I fear he broke your heart.” She closed her eyes. “I didn’t want you to leave without talking about it.”
Julia had been stifling the words that threatened to emerge ever since that night with Isaac. She thought talking about it would only make it hurt more, but now, hearing Miriam’s empathy, she wished she’d shared earlier.
“I think I was falling in love with your brother.” The words fell from her lips, stinging as they flowed. “I know it’s silly, but I had hoped we could at least, you know, court—” She took in a breath, then gazed at Miriam. “No, that’s not true. It was much more than that. I’d already built a whole world
of hopes around him. I know I shouldn’t have, but I’ve never met someone as kind and intelligent and strong as he is. When I was with him, I no longer felt like an orphan without a place in the world. It felt right. Like I belonged, like I had found a safe haven. He trusts God so much, I even thought he could help me understand the Scriptures and grow in my faith. I imagined building a life together, making a home.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “A home. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
A butterfly skipped through the air between them, and then it danced to a poppy creeping from between two rocks and folded its wings.
“We all want a home,” Miriam said.
“But it’s not meant to be.” Julia sighed deeply and folded her hands in her lap. “So you see, my only hope is to return to New York. Mrs. Gaffin will let me live with her. She’s even found a place of employment for me.”
Miriam caressed Julia’s hair, and her face shone with a wisdom Julia had rarely seen before. “I understand that you want a home.”
Something about Miriam’s voice brought back words she’d said a long time ago. Julia waited, expecting her to speak, but instead the woman sat silently. And with the sound of the wind shifting down the coulee, the words came back to Julia: The one thing that helped this place feel like home was remembering that it’s not my home.
Julia hadn’t known, back then, what Miriam meant. She still wasn’t sure. Julia had thought the woman was talking about Lonesome Prairie not being her home, but maybe she meant something else.
She shifted her legs and rubbed her temples, trying to unravel Miriam’s words. Maybe she meant that no matter where on this earth Julia would go, she’d never find a home. The pain of that truth whipped her like a quirt on a horse’s back. She glanced up at Miriam. “I’m never going to find a home, am I?”
Miriam shook her head.
“Not in New York, not here.” A surge of grief lunged through her chest when the next thought struck her. “Not even if my parents were still alive.”
Miriam’s eyes cradled her with compassion.
“There’s only one home,” Julia confessed. “I know what it is, but how do I find it, Miriam? I don’t know how.”
“Do you remember Sarah Mack’s song?” And without waiting for Julia to answer, she began to sing, not in the strong, angelic tones of the Englishwoman, but in a gently embracing voice, full of heart and kindness.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee…”
She continued with the hymn, but Julia camped in these words as the Savior’s love embraced her. All her life, since she lost her parents especially, she’d searched for a home. She’d chased it in people like Mrs. Gaffin, the girls, Miriam, Elizabeth, and especially Isaac. She’d crossed thousands of miles and planned to retrace those miles—all to find a place where she could rest her head and entrust her heart.
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee…”
Yet all along, when she thought she was an abandoned orphan, God was there. He called her, knowing she’d come, but waiting for His perfect timing to draw her into the cleft where she could hide. Somehow, sitting here on this coulee in the middle of the Montana frontier, Julia finally grasped the truth. Christ Himself was her home.
“Christ is my home.” She said it aloud. I am not an orphan. “God is my Father.”
And He encompassed all the love, acceptance, compassion, honesty, and comfort that home represented to her. The embroidered sampler she’d left at the mercantile flashed to her mind: Home Sweet Home. Yes, home was sweet. Not a temporary home—in New York, Lonesome Prairie, or anywhere—but home with the Savior, hiding in His loving arms.
And now, for the first time in her life, when the Savior called, she came with no reserve, with no worries about not knowing enough about the Bible or understanding His ways. She just came, like a child running to her father.
Miriam finished the song and lumbered from her chair to sit on the blanket next to Julia. Once again, like the first day she arrived in Lonesome Prairie, Julia collapsed into the woman’s arms. For so long she’d tried to be in control—to hold her emotions tightly—as if doing so would bring her acceptance. But she’d been wrong. It was releasing her feelings, honestly admitting them to Miriam, and especially to God, that brought acceptance.
After a moment, Julia drew in a breath and pulled back. The butterfly that had been dancing about them like an eavesdropper now alighted on Julia’s hand.
“Oh, look.” She giggled and showed Miriam as it fluttered away.
Miriam smiled. “Have you found your home, Julia?”
Julia gazed at her as peace rushed in. “It’s not here.” She waved her arm around. “Not anywhere. My home is in the cleft of the Rock. My Father is with me…always.” She eyed Miriam with confidence. “And so that means that it doesn’t matter if I go back to New York or stay here or move to Timbuktu.”
“That’s right, and when we find our refuge in Him, then even in the midst of the pain of this life, we feel at home.”
Julia embraced Miriam’s words, not just assenting to their truth but claiming them as her own. No matter what pain found her—and she knew it would come—she’d hide in that cleft. For the rest of her days.
Elizabeth hiked up with a clean little Bea in her arms.
“I think I got all the mud off.” Elizabeth cocked her head toward Julia and Miriam, perhaps noticing their red eyes and the glow of joy on their faces. “And we had a lovely time in the water, didn’t we?”
“I all clean!” Bea piped up, pointing to her white bloomers and undershirt.
“You are all clean,” Julia agreed, laughing.
Yes, all clean.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sun’s position high in the afternoon sky told Isaac, leaning against a wall at the depot in Lodge Pole, that the train would be arriving soon. The normally quiet town bustled with motion, the festivities already starting.
Isaac watched the townsfolk, including many cowboys who’d stayed around for the Fourth of July celebrations. In addition, ladies from ranches and homesteads, wearing their best aprons and bonnets, bustled about with finishing touches—a banner, signs. All seemed to look over their shoulders toward the depot every so often, waiting for the train. On it, everyone knew, was Judge Booker coming to preside over Mabelina Newman’s trial.
Isaac gazed into the distance. Once the train arrived, it would take an hour for the tanks on the steam engine to be refilled before the train could head to its next stop, Big Sandy. Isaac’s hands sweat and a blast of anxiety clutched his heart. He knew Julia planned on taking that Fourth of July train—away from Lonesome Prairie and on to New York. He only hoped Judge Booker would hear the trial, listen to the jury, and make his verdict within an hour.
Isaac sighed. He’d seen much shorter trials than that. Without fancy lawyers, the judges usually took the side of the vigilantes. Isaac hadn’t met the new Judge Booker though, so he could only speculate at the pace at which he ran his courtroom. Yet, if Isaac guessed correctly, the judge would want to get back on the train as well.
Jim and Mabelina sat holding hands on a bench next to the wall. Buck tilted his body against the doorjamb, his head tilted downward, his eyes skimming everything around him.
A rooster crowed, setting off two more, and Jim stomped his foot. “There must be more roosters in Lodge Pole than any other town in the West.” He shuffled nervously and thrust his hands in his pockets as another crowed. “Don’t they know it’s not mornin’? Hush it.”
Mabelina eyed her husband from a lowered head. Without a word, Jim received the rebuke. “I’m sorry, my little marmot. I jest want that train ta come and ta git this trial over with.”
Patting his back, Mabelina sighed. “Not me. I wish we coulda stayed in that cabin all our days.”
Isaac stepped across the wood-planked porch and searched the horizon for the train again. In the distance, he spotted a plume of smoke that didn’t look like a cloud. “I think it’s c
oming.”
He eyed Jim and Mabelina then searched down the wide street, seeking Warren. If the judge arrived and there was no one to accuse her, this whole trial could be over before the roosters hustled to their coop to escape the heat.
Just then a stout, blond man stalked out of the Lodge Pole Saloon, next door to the depot, with a couple of other cowboys moseying beside him.
Warren. Isaac guessed he’d been in there all along, drinking to pass the time.
His best friend’s stepson stumbled and then steadied himself on a pole and gazed up. His eyes connected with Isaac’s. For a moment he scowled, but then his face became unreadable. “Howdy, Parson.”
Isaac edged his way into the street, past the crowd gathering to watch the trial. “What do you want, Warren?” Isaac called from where he stood.
Warren inched closer, still on the saloon’s porch, his two lackeys, Lefty and Joe, behind him. “I want to talk to you about the trial. I’ve been doing some thinking.”
Isaac took a few steps toward him. “What about? You gonna drop the charges?” Isaac doubted it. He knew now Warren was no decent citizen.
Warren sauntered back to the saloon and leaned against the railing, staying on the dirt road.
The train’s loudening rumble pulled Isaac’s gaze. The eyes of the townsfolk turned, too, and many hurried to the platform to watch the train, still a good mile down the track. The large metal dragon snorted steam as it slowed.
“Now! Grab him!” The words filtered into Isaac’s mind a moment too late.
Before Isaac could defend himself, he felt arms around him. Lefty and Joe yanked him around the back of the saloon and shoved him down onto the dusty ground. Isaac yelled, but Joe punched a handkerchief in his mouth with his grimy fist. Joe’s knuckle smashed Isaac’s gum against a tooth, causing a warm liquid to trickle down his chin.