Philip’s head popped up, and he blinked a couple of times. “Jerry? Time to go to church?”
“Sure is. Here, I brought you something from T-Bone. I’ll leave it on the table.” Jeremiah wanted to lift the old man and carry him out to the wagon, but he knew that would embarrass Philip.
He offered his arm, and Philip took hold of it to rise from the chair. The older man didn’t let go while they walked slowly out on the porch, down the steps, and the few feet to the wagon. Philip struggled to get his foot up on the step, but he finally managed. And Jeremiah lifted him the rest of the way, setting him gently on the seat.
“Nice mornin’, ain’t it?” The old miner took a deep breath that turned into a cough, which he covered with his handkerchief.
Jeremiah tried not to let Philip know how worried he was about him. His friend looked as though a good stiff breeze could blow him right off his perch. Jeremiah tried to miss the ruts and bumps on the way down to the hotel. The ride was smoother when they reached the cobblestones.
After Jeremiah helped Philip into a chair, he dropped into the seat beside him. The service hadn’t quite started, so everyone milled around, visiting. He studied the various clusters of people until he spied Miss Mercer. He couldn’t keep his attention from honing in on her.
Wearing a fluffy pink dress, she looked like some kind of penny candy, which made his mouth water, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the reminder of candy or her. And on a ribbon that matched the color of her dress, the cameo rested against the hollow of her throat, rocking gently as she talked. Her hair was swept up from her neck as it had been last Sunday. Her eyes sparkled, making him wish she was talking to him instead of a couple ladies. One was holding Pearl, letting the baby play with the ruffles on her dress, but he only glanced toward her, his attention drawn back to the mother. Just gazing at her brought back Jeremiah’s longing for a wife and children of his own.
Miss Mercer seemed to belong in Golden. When had that happened? Maybe she looked that way all along, but he had been blinded by judging her motives. Those words he’d spoken on the porch of Philip’s house, the ones she’d overheard, tasted bitter in his mouth even today. Why hadn’t he watched what he said? He’d never been that critical of anyone before. If she was going to marry Philip, he’d have to train his thoughts to stay far from her. He couldn’t have his old friend realize how he felt about his wife.
He glanced up when Sam Oldman headed toward him. “Mornin’, Sam.”
“I see I didn’t scare you off last Sunday.” The preacher held out his hand.
Jeremiah stood and clasped it. “Not at all. The service was different from what I’d expected.”
“In a good way, I hope.” Sam gave a throaty chuckle. “Can’t be running off important ranchers.”
“Don’t know how important I am, but nothing you did or said would run me off.” Jeremiah wondered where this was heading. He hoped not into some deeply spiritual discussion.
“Carlos and I just wanted to let you know we’d be out at your ranch early tomorrow morning.” He nodded toward the man who had led the singing. “We’ll be working there until the remodeling and construction job is done.”
“That sounds good to me.” Something to keep his mind off Philip and Madeli—Miss Mercer.
The two men headed toward the front of the room to start the service. During the singing, Jeremiah heard phrases he remembered from when he was a boy. But these people sang with pep and enthusiasm, as if they meant every word and weren’t bored with the song. On a couple of songs he even got caught up in the melody and rhythm. When some sections were repeated, he found himself joining in. It felt good. Must be something about the music.
Sam laid his unopened Bible on the podium. Then he stood in front of it and talked to the people. “Caroline and I have been providing the meal for Bill’s prisoner. I’ve been taking the food down to Mr. Johnstone.”
When Sam said that, Jeremiah grimaced. He didn’t even like to hear the man’s name. And he sure hoped the man was miserable in that jail cell. He didn’t deserve anything better.
“Horace has had a difficult life. Some of it has been his own fault, but he didn’t have the kind of raising your kids do.”
Doesn’t excuse what the man did to Madeline. People were always making excuses for their bad behavior. Now the preacher was doing it for the scoundrel.
“I believe God brought him here so he could hear about our Savior. I’ve been listening to him and talking to him. Answering lots of his questions. Because I don’t want to reveal what he has shared with me, I’m just going to ask you one thing. Please put Horace Johnstone on your prayer lists. Pray for the man every day. I believe he’s about ready to make a drastic change in his life, and I want us to be a part of holding out the hope of the Lord to him.”
Jeremiah’s hands squeezed into fists, so he unfurled them and shoved his fingers into his pockets. Fine words coming from a good preacher, but not very realistic in the world where they lived. John-stone deserved whatever punishment the law would bring against him. Probably even more than the law allowed. No way would he hope the man changed his life.
Besides, he could merely be stringing the preacher along, hoping things would go easy for him. Jeremiah was glad he wasn’t a part of this church. He could never agree with what the preacher asked.
Now Sam was coming out to Jeremiah’s ranch to work. He sure hoped the preacher wouldn’t try to get him to change his ways. Jeremiah wasn’t exactly a reprobate. Didn’t Sam just call him an important rancher? Well, his life was just fine the way it was, and he’d tell the preacher so if he started talking religion out at the ranch.
Chapter Twenty-three
Even though he’d had a hard time falling asleep last night, Jeremiah once again awakened at dawn. All the turmoil going on in his mind kept his belly in an uproar. Maybe T-Bone could give him something for it. But he didn’t want to face the man’s questions.
He went out to the side of the house where he’d pounded in those stakes. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the walls standing and the roof…even the windows that lined the sides letting in the morning sun. When the rooms were finished, they’d expand his house to more than twice its size. A place where he’d be glad to bring a bride, if he could find one.
Madeline.
Jeremiah squelched the name that whispered in his mind.
Even if he had a wife, he wouldn’t know how to treat her. He knew most of the people who went to the church services at the hotel probably had good marriages. He could only imagine what went on in the privacy of their homes. All he’d learned growing up was how not to treat a woman. The memories that flashed through his mind were horrible, making him shudder. Women brought to the house were used and abused in ways he wished he’d never witnessed. Even as a boy, then a young man, he’d vowed he’d never do things like that to a woman. And he’d kept that promise. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone to treat his mother that way if she’d lived longer. And with the way his father and uncle drank, her dying probably had saved her from later abuse.
The churning in his gut increased. Maybe he should go see T-Bone. He hustled toward the cook shack, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
Bursting through the open doorway, he nearly ran into his cook. “You got something for a stomachache?”
“Sure thing, Boss.” T-Bone hurried to the back and poured water into a glass, vigorously stirring the white powder he added.
Jeremiah hoped the hard whacks the spoon made as it whirled around wouldn’t shatter the glass, sending shards flying his way.
“What’s got ya in an uproar?” The cook handed the glass to him.
“Just been trying to figure out some things. Nothing major.” Except in my own mind.
Jeremiah finished downing the horrible-tasting baking soda and water and let out a loud belch. It brought some relief, but not enough.
T-Bone wiped his hand down the big apron that covered him from knees to chin, leaving greasy streaks. “Ya ain�
�t been this stirred up since I’ve worked for ya. Only in the last few weeks.”
The man had the time period down, but Jeremiah hoped he didn’t cipher out the real cause. He didn’t want anyone to know how much he longed for a woman like Miss Mercer.
“Hey, T-Bone, you got any good coffee for some hard workers?” The familiar booming voice invaded the tension in Jeremiah.
The cook glanced toward the doorway, and his eyes lit up like Chinese fireworks. He headed toward the coffeepot and mugs. “Sure do. Sit down, Preacher. Can fix ya some eggs too. Got biscuits…ham steak. Jeremiah here ain’t et his breakfast either. Maybe I’ll join ya too.”
The arrival of Sam and his sidekick, Carlos, kept Jeremiah from having to answer T-Bone’s other question. At least that was a relief to his mind and heart. Nothing seemed to help his gut.
“You men jist sit down and enjoy the coffee.” The cook plopped three mugs on the end of the long table. “Won’t take me but a minute to get the rest.”
Jeremiah stepped over the bench and sat down. “You’re out here bright and early.”
Sam and Carlos took their places across from him.
After taking a swig of the coffee, Sam set his cup down. “We wanted to get an early start. See how much we could accomplish today.”
Jeremiah understood that rationale. He always liked to jump right into a job and get it done. No need fooling around and dragging things out. “How long you think it’ll take?”
“I’ve looked over the plans you gave me. If I can hire a few extra workers, we might be finished in a week…two at the most.”
T-Bone interrupted the conversation by setting heaping plates in front of the two visitors. Steam wafted through the air between the men, carrying a fragrance that could bring a growl to a dead man’s stomach. Jeremiah wasn’t anywhere near dying. His stomach rumbled loud enough for the hands out on the range to hear.
“Umm, smells good, señor.” Carlos picked up his biscuit and sank his teeth into it. “Good butter too. You churn it yourself, amigo?”
“Sure do.” The cook hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. “Cain’t have biscuits without butter, you know.” He headed back toward the kitchen area for the other two plates.
There was enough churning going on inside Jeremiah to make a couple pounds of that butter if he were trying. He chuckled. “I’ve gotta thank you, Sam, for telling me first that your wife would be doing the cooking at the hotel. Someone else would have hired him before I could’ve, and I’d have been in a bad way having to feed all my hands.”
“I guess the good Lord wanted you to have him, since you were at Philip’s house when I went up to meet him that first day.”
Jeremiah winced when the preacher said “the good Lord” just the way Philip always did. There he was already with the God talk. The next week or two might seem like a thousand years if every time Jeremiah was around the preacher and his workers, he was bombarded with that kind of thing. Maybe he should stay out on the range as much as possible.
Maddy knew Sam and Carlos were working on Jeremiah’s house this last week, but she had missed seeing the rancher. Somehow, since the moment Mr. Johnstone arrived in town, she hadn’t felt the usual animosity emanating from Jeremiah. She wondered if he would continue treating her differently. And she wondered what kind of work they were doing on his house.
She’d never been out to his ranch, so she didn’t even know what kind of house was there. Probably an adobe one, since there weren’t many trees for lumber. All Philip had told her was that Jeremiah had helped build onto his house, and it made him want to add to his own.
Maddy had spent a lot of time with Philip this week. Her heart ached as she watched him grow weaker. He tried to hide it but wasn’t successful. His slow steps often faltered, and when he thought she wasn’t looking, he relaxed. Tremors took over his arms and hands—sometimes even his head and neck.
She wished she knew more about what she could do to help him. The wonderful man had made such a difference in her life that she wanted to return the favor. And Pearl loved being around Philip. Maddy marveled once again at how well the two connected. She’d never thought about babies really taking to the aged. But nothing was sweeter than watching them interact with each other. They had a language all their own.
Enough dawdling. She needed to get dressed before Pearl awoke. Then after she took care of her daughter’s needs, they’d go to church.
Maddy remembered that Jeremiah had come to the services a couple of times. She wondered if he would be there today. Since he insisted on coming into town to bring Philip to church, there was no reason for him not to stay. Just thinking about him caused elation to surge through her, leaving a strange fluttering in her midsection. She tamped down the feelings. If only…
Because dressing and feeding Pearl took longer than usual, Philip was already in the dining room when Maddy arrived. Disappointed that Jeremiah wasn’t sitting beside him, she glanced around to see who all was there. Like a piece of iron drawn to a magnet, her gaze arrowed straight toward the tall rancher talking to the sheriff.
With his Stetson removed, Jeremiah’s curls fell haphazardly across his brow. He raked his fingers through his hair and patted the waves down, probably trying to tame them. Evidently he hadn’t had time for a haircut lately because his hair fell past his collar in the back. For just a moment, Maddy wondered what it would feel like to tame those curls herself. Sarah often cut Frank’s hair. If Maddy were working on Jeremiah’s hair, she’d probably leave it a little long in the back anyway. She liked… What am I thinking?
Shaking these thoughts from her mind, she headed toward Philip. Pearl had spied her friend and almost leaned too far toward him. Maddy caught her before she fell and set the baby in the old miner’s lap. The two started their nonsensical conversation—with lots of jabbers and giggles by the baby, accompanied by Philip’s gibberish.
Maddy laughed out loud at their antics. How her manners had changed since she left Boston. She felt a freedom to express herself openly without having to question if it was appropriate. Besides, the Bible said that laughter was good medicine. She’d never felt better in her whole life.
Jeremiah had been in an intense conversation with Bill, so he hadn’t noticed Miss Mercer arriving with Pearl until her laugh rang out. He shot a glance at her, and the way she looked captured his attention—relaxed, at ease with her world. He’d never seen her so beautiful. A special glow surrounded her.
His breath hitched, and he turned back toward Bill, hoping his friend hadn’t noticed. “So what did you do about it?” Maybe that was the appropriate question. He hoped.
Obviously not, since Bill shook his head and laughed. “You weren’t paying any attention to what I was saying.” It wasn’t a question. Just a statement of fact.
Jeremiah couldn’t deny it. “Not really.”
Sam called everyone to prayer, so Jeremiah bowed his head, glad for the preacher’s interruption of that conversation. He hoped Bill would let him off the hook, but he was afraid they’d revisit this topic later.
Jeremiah didn’t close his eyes. He turned them once again toward Philip and his soon-to-be family. The old man, young woman, and baby would make a good family, but Philip looked more like a grandfather for Miss Mercer than a husband. She needed a younger, stronger man to protect her and provide for her family. A deep hunger gnawed on him, but it had nothing to do with food.
With all his heart, he wished he felt a freedom to pursue a relationship with Madeline since she was the kind of woman he dreamed about. But Philip was the first man who’d treated Jeremiah with any respect. He’d taken Jeremiah under his wing and helped him make wise business decisions. Over the years, he’d come to love the old miner as a father. A decent man would never try to take a woman away from his best friend. And, like it or not, Jeremiah considered himself a decent man.
After Sam finished praying, Carlos strummed his strange guitar, and the people started singing. Jeremiah wondered if he should’ve gon
e on home instead of staying for the service. He didn’t belong with this group. He was an outsider, no matter how well they treated him. The wall that separated them was religious, and he hadn’t been willing to tear it down.
When the singing ended, Sam said he had an announcement to make. “I’ve been talking to the prisoner every evening when I take him his supper. Thank you for praying for him. Mr. Johnstone has asked a lot of questions, and we’ve been reading the Bible together. Last night he gave his life to the Lord. His whole attitude is different today. When I took him breakfast, he sounded like a completely different man.”
Several praise-the-Lords erupted from all over the room—some quiet, a few resounding. The phrase kept repeating in Jeremiah’s head and reached down toward his heart. This feeling upset him—emotionally and even physically. He didn’t know what to do about it. At least this type of stirring didn’t bring the churning to his gut that had been burning there for weeks.
Jeremiah had a hard time staying focused on what Sam was saying. His thoughts bounced from Philip and his influence on Jeremiah’s life to a scoundrel like Johnstone becoming a Christian. How come a man like that could change in an instant and become accepted by the congregation? Shouldn’t he face the consequences of his actions? Where was the justice in that?
What if it isn’t real? Maybe Johnstone only said what he thought the preacher wanted to hear. When he got out of jail, if he did, he could turn back into the unprincipled man he was before. Jeremiah had heard of jailhouse conversions. He’d never believed any of them were real. But Johnstone wasn’t really facing death, was he? Jeremiah wasn’t sure what charges Bill had against the man. Maybe he should find out.
Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico Page 21