by Nathan Adams
God works in mysterious ways. Lucy knew that. But knowing that His presence is all around can lift us in the moment of our darkest hour, give us strength when we thought we couldn’t go on anymore and look up to the skies with a newfound hope.
“After her … after Evelyne died, I swore I’d never allow myself to be hurt that badly again. I just couldn’t put myself through all that again,” he said. She understood his pain. She knew now why and all she wanted was to make him whole again, with the help of Lord Almighty.
“But if you’re willing to forgive me for my horrible behavior with you these past few days, I reckon I can show you that there’s another Quentin here.” He smiled. “He’ll listen. And talk!” He laughed, and Lucy joined him.
“That’s all I ever wanted!” She jumped to hug him, and her puppy joined in.
“So, what did you end up calling this little guy?” he asked. “I need to know so I can put his name on the house I built for him.”
She smiled. “It’s Freckles.”
“Freckles!” He laughed out loud again. “Isn’t that a little.” But he didn’t finish his sentence.
“A little what?” She tried to sound offended, but couldn’t manage it and laughed as well.
“Oh, nothin’. Freckles is perfectly fine.” He petted the puppy.
That night Quentin didn’t go to any saloon but actually stayed home for the first time in a long while. The two were reading and sewing, with Freckles comfortably lying by Lucy’s feet.
In the morning, the two were equally glad to see each other at the breakfast table.
“I have a little something for you,” she said.
“Do ya now?” He smiled. “What is it?”
She was obviously holding something behind her back, and she seemed to hesitate whether to give it to him or not.
“Maybe it’s not such a good idea,” she whispered.
“No, no. Come on now,” he urged her gently. “I won’t bite.”
“Well, here.” She offered a pink little envelope with a dangling ribbon.
“What’s this now?” He opened it. It was a Valentine’s Day card. “But, it ain’t Valentine’s Day, Lucy,” he said.
“I know.” She almost felt sorry she gave it to him. Maybe it was too soon. “Valentine’s Day was two weeks ago. But maybe we can celebrate it today?” She smiled innocently.
He opened the letter and read it. After a few initial seconds, he smiled.
“I reckon we can.” He folded the letter back into the envelope and approached her, hugging her tightly. Freckles also seemed to feel that something important was taking place, so he also barked loudly to make himself known.
“Now, after we plan today, there’s other business we need to take care of,” he added seriously.
“Really? What?” She shivered. What was it now?
“Our wedding!” He hugged her again and kissed her on the forehead. “I reckon your parents are going crazy that we still haven’t telegrammed them about the exact day. They’ve been waiting for two weeks now!”
“Oh, yes!” Lucy laughed as well.
With all this commotion, she had completely forgotten that she needed to send a telegram to them regarding the exact date.
“Well, do we have a date?” she asked.
“It’s for you to set, Lucy. Betsy will help you with everything you need. I’ll pay for whatever you wish to have, and we’ll have the best weddin’ this town’s ever seen.” He hugged her again, lifting her high up in the air.
“Oh, am I interrupting anything?” The sweet voice of Betsy was heard from the door.
“Matter of fact, you are!” He winked at her.
“Oh, could it be?” She hid half of her face in her hands in anticipation of good news to come.
Both of them nodded.
“Oh, thank you Lord Almighty!” She raised her hands high up in the air, as if wishing to touch God himself. Lucy and Quentin were smiling at her while Freckles, who perhaps had no idea what exactly was going on, still knew that it was a time of joy and happiness and tried to make as much noise as possible to accompany the hubbub that was taking place before him.
THE END
Return to the TOC for Bonus Content
Josephine
Chapter One
The sun was blazing hotter and longer than it had on any other day. It was as if it had joined the revolution of bringing Belle Fields to its final end. No matter how hard Josephine Rose Walker pushed herself to the extremities, there always seemed to be another boulder rolling straight in front of her dusty, narrow path. She prayed every day and night—in the vegetable garden and in the chicken coop, on the back of her faithful steed heading into town, in the middle of the tobacco fields underneath her mother’s checkered bonnet, a bonnet she cherished since the day her mother went to be with her Savior.
All Josephine desired was a brief moment to take a breath without the weight and burden of the past few months hanging over her head like the black thunderclouds of her home state of Virginia. Struggle was nothing new to the young tobacco farmer of Louisa County. She had gotten used to the immigrant miners who were expressing their manly desires. It was not accepted or supported for a woman to stand up against it.
The only support the 22-year-old, green-eyed, raven-haired, modestly attractive woman ever received was from her older and faithfully loving brother, Theodore Willis Walker, or T.W. as she so affectionately called him since words could be understood from her rosy, pink lips. Side by side, the Walker siblings learned how to make their farm survive through experience and standing up against the older and conniving generations who set out to take the land for their own greedy gain.
“JoJo!” T.W.’s voice traveled over the dark-green tobacco and through the dry, breezeless air. Slowly, Josephine raised her head and lifted up to her knees, searching for her 6-foot-3-inch brother’s thick, heavy frame. He called after her once more, “JoJo, over here.”
Her eyes landed on his hand waving the familiar black Stetson he had worn since they were both teenagers. “Yo-wee!” Josephine hollered back their signal of acknowledgment and rose to her feet. She turned to her left, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Hannah, I’m heading to the house for a moment. You and Nellie finish up this row, then come and have a sit down on the porch.”
The Negro worker responded to her boss, “Yes Ma’am, Ms. Josephine. We almost finished here, so we be along shortly.”
The Walker siblings were one of the only farms in the county who had turned their farm into a place of employment for any Negro slaves who desired to be treated with respect as an independent worker being paid for their services the same way the white man would be paid. They had even given the option to the female Negro slaves to work in the fields for a higher wage than what they would have received working in the house.
This was one major reason why the Walkers were being zeroed in on by the surrounding farmers and the immigrant miners. They did not care for the fact that the workers they considered property were being valued as practically equals, let alone the opportunities they were being given to advance themselves in the line of society. But most of all, the men detested the fact that a 22-year-old girl was leaving her mark on the tobacco industry. They threw every punch they could her way.
The one thing that T.W and Josephine’s parents instilled in their children before they had passed on was that God had created men and women in His image, and they should love one another as God had loved them. Every Sunday evening, Otto Walker would pull out his faded, worn and torn leather-bound Bible and make sure his son and daughter knew the true definition of love found in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians in the first 13 verses of the 13th chapter. So that is how the siblings vowed to live once they had been left to care for their family farm.
Josephine was strong. There was no doubt about that. But just how much more she could carry on her shoulders became the burden she was thinking about the most. Now, as her brother stood in front of her, she took a deep brea
th as her eyes landed on the letter he was holding in his calloused hand.
“I’m sorry, JoJo. I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but, honestly, I don’t feel we have any other options, especially if we are want to keep this farm and the livelihood it provides for not only ourselves but also for all the other workers who would never be able to live as they do here.”
Josephine closed her wet eyes and lowered her head, admitting to herself that everything her brother had said was true and that it was her sacrifice that was necessary to keep her beloved Bella Fields alive and productive.
“He’s a generous man, Jo. He’s giving us more than enough to keep this farm running. We’ve been praying for God to provide for our needs,” T.W.’s voice lowered to a sorrowful whisper as he reached for his sister and pulled her into his chest. “I’m just sorry that it’s taking your leaving to make this all happen. I love you, JoJo. I just can’t imagine living this life without you.”
T.W.’s tears began to soak into his cotton shirt.
Chapter Two
Josephine clung to her carpetbag as she watched her faded trunk be loaded onto the stagecoach. With all that was running through her head, the one most pressing worry covering them all was what exactly this journey would bring. She was thankful that T.W. had left when he did. There was no way she would have been able to say goodbye to him. They both promised to write and send wires if anything happened to either of them. But they both knew that this was the change that their momma had told stories about when she left her own family to become the wife of Otto Liam Walker.
Tucked into the pocket of her green-and-white striped traveling coat was the letter she received from Warren Howard Cooper, a cattle rancher and preacher who promised to provide for Belle Fields in return for her hand in marriage. He wanted them to build a beautiful life serving his local community through trade and sharing the message to any and all who would listen of Jesus Christ.
She didn’t mind being a preacher’s wife. In fact, as the days inched closer to when she would actually meet this gentle man of God and discover who they were to become under the union of their heavenly Father, she was warming up to the idea. But the letter that rested in her other pocket, the letter that was waiting for her at the station, the letter from a man she wished she had never met, slowly clouded those happy memories. How he knew she was leaving, Josephine didn’t know.
“Miss, are you ready to hop on board?” The stagecoach driver held his rough, rugged hand out, snapping her from the distracting and anxious daydream that consumed her worrisome mind.
“Oh, excuse me. Yes, thank you.” She slipped her own gloved hand into his waiting one and readied herself to step up into the coach. She would be accompanied by a young couple on holiday, a bowler-capped banker relocating to a new post and a solicitor heading West to deliver papers of legality that were obviously confidential.
“I can tie up your bag here on the boot so you’ll have more room inside, Miss.” He began reaching for the handles, but Josephine’s quick reflexes pulled it closer to her, forcing out a polite smile.
“Thank you, Sir, but I’ll be fine with it riding here on my lap.”
“Are you sure, Miss? It’s gonna be a long, bumpy ride.”
“I’m sure. Thank you very much.”
The driver nodded in response and turned his focus to someone other than the apprehensive, young traveler. A few more minutes passed until there was a jerk of the coach and the trekkers were on their way. Josephine leaned her head back against the padded carriage wall, doing all she could to not focus on the road she was about to travel—physically, emotionally, mentally and, most of all, spiritually.
Hours upon hours ticked by. There were generic conversations of truly no interest, moments of silence when the rattling and creaking of the coach kept a steady rhythm, laughing, humming, reading, and napping. They stopped periodically in local towns at the stagecoach stations, stretching their legs, filling their bellies and having a descent rest. The teams were switched out before the travelers began their excursion once more.
Hours soon turned into days that faded into weeks. One by one, the passengers reached their destination. But just as they would leave, others would load in their place. At one time, everyone road shoulder to shoulder, like sardines shoved into a can. But, they too would file out once they had arrived at their goal, leaving Josephine to her anxious thoughts and pleading prayers for safety and guidance.
A day before they disembarked, all was going on as it had for the past three weeks. Josephine had just reached the point to where her weary eyes were closing for another bumpy nap.
“Giddyap! Yaw! Yaw! Giddyap!” The stagecoach suddenly picked up speed. Josephine sat straight up and lifted the leather curtain blocking her view from the outside. A passenger grabbed her arm and spoke with great haste.
“What is it? What’s going on out there?” Josephine ignored the panicked woman and focused her eyes on the dust cloud quickly stirring around them. She pulled herself out of the seat and popped her bonnet-covered head out of the window.
“Oh, no! It can’t be”
“What? What did you say?”
“Excuse me, Miss, what do you see out there?”
Josephine answered no one. All she could do was to keep her heart from jumping through her chest. “Oh Lord, please don’t let it be him. Please! Let it be anything, but him.”
“Yaw! Yaw! Yaw!” The driver continued to guide his six-strapped team across the rough terrain, kicking up the dust heavier and thicker with every turn of the wheel. Secretly, Josephine reached down to her boot, slipping her fingers around the handle of her father’s knife that she had taken before leaving the farm.
Suddenly, Josephine was thrust back into her seat as the coach pulled to a halt.
“Whoa! Whoa, team! Whoa!”
Quickly, she pulled herself back up to the window and held her breath as she waited for the dust to clear. Her fears charged wildly past her eyes. But just as quickly as she relaxed, she went for her knife again as her eyes speedily scanned the surroundings, looking for any sign of the man she feared. In her mind, the stampede was just a distraction to catch her off guard and make her fears a reality. The coach rattled for a moment before the driver opened the door and stuck his head inside.
“Sorry ’bout that, folks. E’rybody all right in here?”
Simultaneously, the passengers poured out their fears and questions on to the driver’s reply. “All right, all right! Calm down now, folks. Just a typical cattle drive crossing the main road to the next station. Nothin’ to get all worked up over.” He turned to Josephine, who was completely silent and had a face as white as a sheet. “Miss, are you OK?” She just stared out the window. “Miss? Ma’am?”
She finally came to. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I ask if you were OK. You been sittin’ there all quiet and lookin’ like you just seen a ghost.”
“Oh, heavens. I’m sorry. Yes, I’m fine. Just trying to catch my breath.”
“Well, OK then. I think we all need to do that. I’m gonna check over the team, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Josephine tipped her head back and closed her eyes.
Thank you, Father, for keeping me safe. Please help me to reach Texas so that I may be able to live my life better, the way you want me to be. Thank you for your faithfulness and for hearing my prayers. Amen
As the stagecoach gave a jerk and began its usual rocking back and forth, Josephine slipped her hand into the pocket of her traveling coat and pulled out the letter she wished she had never read. Opening the envelope, she pulled out its contents and slowly unfolded it. She took a deep breath and read the words staring back up at her.
I know where you’re going, and I will find you to permanently finish what we started.
CHAPTER THREE
Warren Howard Cooper guided his horse and wagon into the small town of Wilson, Texas, and braked in front of the stagecoach station. He was a little early, but no tim
e was ever wasted for this preacher turned cattle rancher. The 6-foot-3-inch handsome and gentle soul tied his team to the hitch post and headed to the general store to put in an order he would load up after he was finished with his reason for being in town.
About an hour and a half later, a large rumbling at the edge of town increased followed by a mutt chasing and barking along the wheels, stealing attention from patrons and passersby of the small town’s shops and boardwalks. Slowly, the source of the distraction pulled up to the station and halted on the brakes. The driver gave a long stretch of his arms before crawling down from his post and opening up the stagecoach door.
“OK, folks, welcome to Wilson, Texas. Just let me know if this is your final stop, and I’ll pull your stuff from the boot. Otherwise, feel free to take your time and rest yourselves here in this station town. Thank you, and we’ll be on our way in the morning.”
He helped his passengers down from the coach and thanked them personally for choosing The Chesterton Coach Line as their mode of transportation.
“Thank you, Sir. And this will be my final stop. I’m not in any hurry, so take your time unloading my trunk. I’ll just be waiting for my ride over here. And thank you, again.”
“My pleasure, Miss. I’ll be with you in just a minute.”
Josephine gave a short stretch, adjusting her bonnet and smoothing out her traveling coat as she took in the environment around her that would now become her new home.
“Josephine?” She quickly turned around to the low, sexy voice that sent a rush of heat all over her body. “Hi. I’m Warren. Warren Cooper.”
Her heart was pounding rapidly as her eyes took in his thick, brawny frame. He was not what her mind had imagined. He was much more handsome than any of the men she had come across in her lifetime.
“Hi, Warren. Yes, I’m Josephine. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She reached out her hand and felt a surge of electricity as he softly received it and held it tenderly.