My Hope Is Found

by Joanne Bischof

  Forty

  Gael lumbered along slowly, and as much as Toby knew he should tap his heels, urge her on quicker, he no longer cared that he was running late. There wasn’t much about this day that made him in a hurry to be anywhere. For no matter where he went, troubles of mind would follow.

  The air was aglow. Lit with an early evening sun that glinted on the wildflowers that traced the edge of the road. Hedging the path in beauty when everything inside Toby was anything but. He was about to lose all he held dear. Nay … he’d already lost it the moment Gideon had stepped back into their lives.

  Lonnie loved Gideon. Of that he had no doubt. And someday soon, Gideon would make her his bride. His wife. The thought gnawed at Toby’s heart, though it was nothing other than what must be. What should be. For Gideon had already made Lonnie his wife a long time ago, and that bond was not easily severed, no matter how much Toby had wished it were so. It must be. But he loathed the thought.

  Deep down in every dark corner of his heart, he hated it. Realizing his jaw was clenched, Toby forced himself to relax.

  That kind of thinking couldn’t live. It couldn’t thrive inside him. Not if he were to truly walk in the Lord’s will. Even so, he couldn’t linger and watch it all unfold before him. To simply close his eyes—pretend it wasn’t happening—was beyond him. He wasn’t strong enough to stand by as their lives went on together. Wasn’t strong enough to stand in the church where they would give themselves to one another again. He pulled his hat off and set it on the saddle.

  No. It was time to begin again.

  For days—nay, weeks—he hadn’t known how he would step out of Lonnie’s life. Didn’t know how he would bid farewell to Jacob. To Addie. But the time had come. One last farewell, and he would start a new life down a new path.

  He’d already told Reverend Gardner. The head position would have to go to someone else. He couldn’t stay here. Though it killed him to think of not watching those children grow up. Killed him to think of not growing old with Lonnie. Never bringing her home as his bride.

  He tightened his grip on the reins. “Git on up!” That life was dead, and the less he thought about what may have been, the better. He’d go mad otherwise.

  As the smoke from his chimney faded into memory, Toby’s thumb grazed the metal of the shotgun that balanced on the saddle in front of him. He had no intention of using it, but Reverend Gardner had insisted. The older man had looked him square in the eye as he handed him the double-barrel.

  “I won’t send a man off with that much money in his pocket unarmed.”

  Even as he remembered the reverend’s words, Toby patted his coat pocket, the lump beneath his hand enough to help raise the new building. Gael flicked her head, and Toby patted her dark neck. “Easy, girl.”

  A glance to the left showed the sun flickering like a candle between two peaks as clouds feathered across a purple sky, and he prepared himself for what was sure to be a cold evening. He shrugged deeper into his coat, glad there was another hour before dark. He’d arranged lodgings for nightfall, but he was behind in his course and wouldn’t make it until much later than planned.

  His saddle creaked when he turned. Toby glanced around at familiar, spindly trees. Gael plodded along. Her steps sure. A pace that would get them to Richland Knob by the following evening. He settled into the saddle for the hours ahead. Trying to find pleasure in the silence and solitude. To be content to simply remember all he owed thanks for. An abundance of blessings that he had taken for granted much too often.

  His life had seemed to stretch out for miles and miles, the path clear, the future bright. But now it seemed to swallow itself in doubt. Disbelief. And he no longer sensed what was around the corner. A few days ago, he’d been certain it no longer included Lonnie, and he tried not to give the words Gideon had spoken to him any weight.

  “Lonnie needs to choose. It’s the best way, and we both know it.”

  Wasn’t the choice already made? Yet he sensed doubt in every step that Gideon took. What was the man afraid of? Toby rubbed a hand over his face. Surely she wouldn’t choose anyone but him. It made no sense. Who was Toby compared to Gideon? The man knew everything about her. He’d been there from the beginning. He was Jacob’s father. Toby’s heart tightened with yearning. He wanted to kick himself for letting his thoughts wander back to what ought never to be.

  Lifting his face to the horizon, where the first star appeared in a graying sky, he asked the Lord to fill the weary spaces of his spirit. Prayed for that comfort to fill him. The wholeness that he’d been yearning for. The surrender he’d been fighting against.

  With Addie at her elbow, Lonnie scrubbed the last plate and shook off droplets of water. She handed it to her sister, who had a damp towel at the ready. Elsie ran a broom over the floorboards, sweeping dust and flour toward the door, where the tuning of Gideon’s mandolin filtered in from the cool evening. Clearly eager to finish, Addie stacked the last of the plates and hopped down from her stool.

  “May I be done?” she asked, tugging on the strings of her apron.

  “Yes, and thank you for your help. Why don’t you run on upstairs and get into your nightgown?”

  “Might I go outside?”

  “It’s getting late. Why don’t you climb into bed, and I’ll leave the window open a bit so you can listen as you fall asleep.”

  Addie scurried into the parlor, small feet padding up the stairs. Lonnie peeked into the parlor to see that Jebediah had rocked Jacob to sleep. After placing a trio of cups in the high cupboard, she wiped the table with a damp rag. Her hand traced the wood in rhythm with Gideon’s playing. The song was slow. Sweet. And wholly peaceful. A hymn she’d never heard him play before. Lonnie felt her feet carry her to the doorway, where a sprinkle of stars blinked down from a darkening sky.

  In the fading light, Gideon sat against the porch railing, feet stretched out along the top step. His boots were unlaced, one over the other. Leaning against the jamb, Lonnie crossed her ankles and watched him. The familiar hymn seemed to fill her, and she hummed along. When the last notes faded, Gideon looked at her.

  “Not quite sure where that came from.” His face was pensive.

  “ ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’ When did you learn it?”

  A shrug of his shoulder, and he ducked his head, feigning interest with the cuff of his pants. He bent the folds of denim with his thick fingers, then looked up at her. “Just picked it up. S’pose I heard it at church a time or two, and it just sort of came back to me. What was it called again?”

  She repeated the title, and when he nodded thoughtfully, she added, “Yet you know it so well.”

  His head pressed against the banister, and he turned to look out over the moonlit farm. “It doesn’t take much for me to know a song.” He seemed to wrestle with something. “The chords and the notes is what I’m trying to say.” He tapped the side of his head. “I hear them once, and they just sort of stay, I reckon.” When he glanced at her, his gaze was intense. Serious. And she could see that he was struggling with something. Greatly.

  “You don’t seem proud of that.” She shifted. Wanting so very much to draw nearer.

  “Is there a reason to be?” he asked. “To be good at something just because you can’t help it?” Head to the banister, he blinked up at the stars. “This”—he played a few beautiful notes, then let his hand fall away—“won’t get me anywhere. It’s the meaning of a song that’s harder for me to grasp.” He sifted a hand through his hair. “It’s the meaning of just about anything.”

  She understood what he meant. “It’s one of my favorites,” she said softly.

  “Is it?” He looked back at her.

  “Oh.” She uncrossed her ankles. “I promised Addie I’d tuck her in.” Lonnie straightened to go. “I’ll be right back. Please don’t leave.”

  The glimmer of his eyes searched hers. “I won’t.”

  After a nod, Lonnie slipped away. In the parlor, she lifted Jacob from Jebediah’s arms and left the g
ray-haired man to snooze. Elsie glanced up from her knitting and winked. In the bedroom, Lonnie tucked Jacob into his cradle. She moved to the bed and tugged the quilt higher up Addie’s shoulders. The little girl’s eyelids were heavy, hands tucked beneath her round cheek. Moonlight spilled across the floor.

  “Sleep good, little one. I love you.” Lonnie kissed her curls.

  “Love you too,” Addie said softly, and her eyelids fell closed.

  Lonnie tiptoed back downstairs and stepped out into the night. The air was cool. Draping her shawl about her shoulders, she stepped over Gideon’s legs and sank onto the step below him. Mandolin clutched to his chest, he picked a soft song. A variation of what he’d been playing, but it melted into different melodies, always returning, drawing richer. Perfectly Gideon.

  Lonnie sighed, letting the day wash through her. Savoring the cleansing of what filled the night air. Aware of how close she was sitting to Gideon, she glanced up, glad the moon lit his face just enough to catch the sweet pensiveness in his expression.

  “You look like you’re trying to solve the world’s problems,” she said.

  “Do I?” He smiled and his brow unfolded. “I was thinking of that hymn. I don’t really know the words. But even what I do know doesn’t make sense.”

  Lonnie rested her hand on the step beside her. “Tell me.”

  His gazed filtered over the horizon. “All right. Let’s see … How about just the title? ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’ ” He swallowed. “What does that mean?”

  Letting out a sigh, Lonnie pulled her feet in. She took her time arranging the folds of her skirt. All the while, she felt Gideon’s gaze on her. “What do you think it means?”

  “I knew you were going to say that.” He chuckled.

  “No you didn’t.” But she felt at home, realizing how well he knew her. And how well she knew him. She wrapped her hands around her ankles.

  “Let’s see,” he finally said. “I think it’s talking about peace.” He smoothed a hand over his unshaven jaw. “But how? How can someone just up and say that? It seems so simple … but it doesn’t feel that way.” Gideon set his mandolin aside with slow movements. Finally, he looked at Lonnie.

  She nodded slowly, soaking in his words—his heart. Praying with all her might that she could find the words.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Me?” She let out a heavy sigh. “I think it means just that. A peace. The feeling of resting in God’s goodness. In His comfort. That come what may, it is still well.”

  Her words seemed to tip his chin up. He thought a moment, his gaze distant. Face shadowed. Lonnie studied the familiar lines, from his knotted brow to his wondering expression.

  “I think you said it better than I did.” He winked and ducked his head. Then just as quickly, his face sobered. “I’m not sure what to make of it all, Lonnie.” His voice was so soft, she had to strain to listen. He looked up at her. “I’m just not sure.”

  Reaching out, Lonnie squeezed his hand, fighting the urge to lace her fingers within his as she once had. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. I think sometimes the Lord wants us to wonder. To ask. To share our uncertainties. He wants to give us those answers. Keep thinking. Keep wondering, Gideon.” She squeezed his hand again, the feel of it so rough and perfect in hers. Though she didn’t want to, she released it. “Keep listening to His voice. And I will do the same.”

  Toby’s head snapped up. Had he fallen asleep? A glance to each side of the road, and he was unsure of his surroundings. He peered up at the moon, satisfied that it was in the right spot. At least he hadn’t veered off track. Straightening, he wiped the weariness from his eyes, wishing his lodgings were just around the bend, all the while knowing he had another hour or two to go. He hoped the family wouldn’t mind his late arrival.

  At a sound, he glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing other than darkness. He wrapped his hand around cold steel when the sound started again. Footsteps on the bracken. He turned Gael slightly and glanced around. Yet in an instant, her head veered back, and she let out a frightened whinny. Toby gripped the reins when she sidestepped. The black outline of a man stood in the path.

  As if floodgates had been opened, blood raced through Toby’s veins. For one heartbeat, he considered ramming his boots into the horse’s side and blowing past the man, but when moonlight glinted off the barrel of a rifle, Toby steadied his mount. “Easy.”

  “Stop right there,” the man said, his voice muffled. As he spoke, three more emerged from the woods—each man’s head covered in a burlap sack with slits for eyes and a mouth.

  Mouth dry, Toby pulled his fingers away from the shotgun. He lifted his hands. He and Reverend Gardner had told very few people about his departure. Few folk would have known when he was transporting the money. Unease settled in the pit of Toby’s stomach.

  Gritty words growled from behind the burlap. “Get down from your horse.”

  “You don’t want to do this,” Toby said, surprised by the steadiness of his own voice.

  “You don’t know what we want.”

  The men circled closer.

  Pick up the gun. He could do it. And then what? Take as many lives as he could? And they would take his. He’d stand before his Maker, flanked by the men he killed, and God would send them on their way. Depart from Me. I never knew you.

  The man lifted his rifle—aiming.

  Toby stared at the faceless man, knowing it was not his job to deal out death. “You don’t want to do this.”

  One of the men flicked his head, and before Toby could react, a pair of men yanked him off his mount. Gael kicked her hind legs. A man tried to grip her reins, but she bolted. Her hooves thundered away into silence. Angry hands shoved Toby to his knees. Wet cold seeped through the knees of his pants.

  “Empty his pockets,” ordered a muffled voice.

  “I have nothing.” Toby blinked into the burlap face. Colorless eyes glinted through the slits.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Hands tore at his pockets, and Toby gritted his teeth, knowing the money would be discovered. His pants pockets were turned inside out. Grimy fingers yanked at the folds of his coat.

  “I have nothing!” He struck the nearest hand, smacking it away. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled back.

  “Get ’im!”

  His gun was in the path, near enough to grab. Toby fumbled the end of the barrel and turned, smacking the man behind him in the head. The man fell back, and ignoring the trigger, Toby gripped the gun with both hands and drove it into the nearest gut. The faceless man doubled over with a groan of agony. Toby kicked him.

  A fist struck the side of his head, and Toby fell to his knees as a sharp pain clawed its way through his temple. He blinked. His vision blurred. Greedy fingers tore at his coat. Toby felt the money pouch slide from its hiding place. Get up. He shook his head, but the world tilted on its side. The money. Blinking furiously, Toby rose to his feet. He lunged toward the nearest man and saw the pouch in his hand only a moment before ramming his own shoulder into the thick chest. Air hissed from the man’s lungs, and Toby didn’t stop until he had slammed him against a tree. Cold chills ate through Toby’s nerves as his head pulsed with pain.

  “Somebody get ’im. Stop ’im!”

  Toby’s shoulders burned as his arms were forced behind his back. He stared at the burlap-covered face before him. A pair of nameless eyes behind the black slits.

  “Don’t do this,” he struggled to say.

  “Enough with this,” a muffled voice said. “What kind of preacher puts up a fight? I don’t want him on our trail.”

  Toby heard the ring of steel being unsheathed and gritted his teeth as the burn of a blade pierced his side. He cried out. The blade was yanked free. He fell forward, catching himself with his hands. His eyes watered. Arms shook. Head still thrumming, his vision went black.

  The leader spoke. Fainter this time as if from a great distance. “Quick. Get him off the roa
d.”

  The words fogged in Toby’s mind. The world darkened.

  He gasped for breath, fire in his flesh. Hands gripped his arms, pulled them over his head, and dragged him into blackness.

  Forty-One

  Arm draped over his face, Gideon let the dreams wash over him. Out of him. He saw his family. Every piece of them so beautiful, he flexed his hands as if to grip them tighter. A sweetness worth hanging on to. Would that he simply trust God in this unseen plan.

  Then all that could be began to fade.

  He needed to wake up. Get to the fields. But he didn’t want to let this go. The images faded and he sat up, slowly, groggy. Shaking the clouds from his mind, he shoved his blankets off and pushed himself to a stand. The morning was going to be a cold one. He stuffed his knit cap over his hair, tugging it low. He grabbed his jacket, then threw it on and pulled on his boots. A quick yank of the laces, and he strode out into the early dawn. The sun was yet to rise, but a gray glow on the horizon beckoned him forward. Perhaps he’d get a bit done before breakfast. Shivering, he longed for a hot cup of coffee by the fire.

  Hands stuffed in his pockets, he strode toward his fields. Then froze. Gael stood in the center of the field. No more than a dark outline in the budding dawn. She dipped her head toward the ground, then lifted it. Circled in dim haze, Gideon strode closer. Black-walnut eyes blinked at him. Her reins hung loose. Fully saddled. Heart threaded with alarm, Gideon slowed his steps so as not to frighten her. She lifted a hoof, placing it back, uncertain.

  “Easy, girl.” After a few more feet, he crouched, catching the end of the reins. Gael’s breath blew white before her face. She shook her mane, and Gideon slid his hand up her neck, comforting. It took only a few breaths for him to take in the saddle and bags. A lift of the flap and he saw they were filled. He quick-glanced around for any signs of her master. Kneeling, Gideon saw a gash low on her leg, just above the fetlock. It wasn’t deep, but it would need some tending as soon as he could. “Come on, girl.” He needed to get her in the barn to keep her from using the leg, but for the moment he led her toward the house, where he tied her up at the porch. As quickly and quietly as he could, he went inside and rapped his knuckles on Jebediah’s door. The gray-haired man appeared a few moments later.