Gabriel's Atonement

by Vickie McDonough

  Oh, there were plenty of silly boys back in school who had eyed her golden hair and wanted to claim her as their own, but there’d never been a man in her life. Her thoughts flew back to the handsome dandy.

  Alma Lou shoved her, jostling her soda bottle so that Jo had to tighten her grasp to keep from dropping it. “I’m telling you the most important thing in my life, and you’re not even listening.”

  “Sorry. I was thinking about something.” Jo pulled her gaze back to her friend. “So…what’s the news?”

  “Oh, it’s so exciting I can hardly stand it.” She squeezed her soda bottle with both hands, her face beaming. “Jeremiah Watson has been courting me and has asked me to marry him.”

  Stunned, Jo blinked her eyes and tried to understand what her friend had said. “Jerry Watson? Jokin’ Jerry?”

  Alma Lou hiked up her chin. “Don’t call him names. He’s not like that anymore.”

  “Well…” Jo searched her mind for something to appease Alma. “I haven’t seen him much since we finished school, so I suppose he could have matured.” The picture of Jokin’ Jerry that came to mind was of him dipping her braids in the inkwell and stealing her lunch while she ran screaming mad after him.

  “You’re invited to the wedding.” Alma Lou sniffed. “I wanted to have you stand up with me, but Mother thinks I should ask Jeremiah’s sister.”

  The root beer turned sour in Jo’s stomach. All their growing-up years, she and Alma Lou had talked arm in arm about being each other’s maid of honor when they got married. They even talked about having a double wedding. But that would never happen now. She could hardly get married without a groom.

  Jo stood, searching for something to say. “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

  “You won’t be upset if I have Sally Watson stand up with me, will you?”

  Biting back her overwhelming disappointment, Jo shook her head. “Lara will be mad if I don’t get back home soon. Thank you for the soda pop. It was mighty tasty.”

  Jo stepped into the store and set the half-empty bottle on the counter then slipped out the back door, lest Alma Lou see her tears. Jo hated crybabies, and it made her mad that she couldn’t stop her own tears.

  Nothing would be the same between her and Alma Lou again. Why, by this time next year, her friend might even be a mother. The thought of losing her best friend brought fresh tears. Jo swiped at them and plodded down the road.

  Why did things always have to change? She didn’t mind it so much when she was the one causing the changes, but she didn’t like it one bit when that change was beyond her control.

  When she returned home, Lara searched the valley and along the creek for Jo but didn’t see her sister. Maybe she was off hunting something for dinner or fishing. A mess of trout fried in cornmeal would taste delicious.

  She slipped inside the soddy and allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimness. She could hear Michael’s soft breathing as she spied him curled up on his quilt in the corner.

  “What d’you find out in town?” Grandpa whispered as he turned on his side to face her.

  Lara felt his forehead, relieved that it was cooler than last time she’d checked. “It’s pretty much what you said. A quarter section of land—if you get a claim. Plus, there will be town lots available. There sure are a lot of people in Caldwell, though. I would guess the population has doubled—several times over. Do you think there will be enough land for everyone who wants it?”

  “Prob’ly not. Elsewise there’d be no need for a race.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I have to admit there’s land rush fever in town—and it’s contagious. If only we could get a claim…”

  “We need to pray.” Grandpa glanced up at the sod roof, where roots of prairie grass hung down like cheap chandeliers.

  “We’d need a horse. Our poor old mule wouldn’t stand a chance winning that race. Why, Grandpa, there’s folks in town with racehorses and even those two-wheeled bicycle contraptions.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “I cain’t see how one of those fancy conveyances would have a chance against a fast horse.”

  “I can’t even imagine how someone could stay on one of those things on a smooth trail, much less through tall prairie grass and over rocky ground.”

  “So…did you register?”

  Lara shook her head. How could she explain that if they won a claim they’d have to pay fourteen dollars to file it? Even after she did all the mending and collected her wages it wouldn’t be enough.

  “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

  With a sigh, she explained her thoughts.

  “Well…we don’t need that money now, so God hasn’t provided it.” Grandpa patted her hand, so sure that the Lord would supply. “He gives us what we require when we need it. Right now, we should pray for a horse.”

  Lara nodded, thinking her grandpa needed quinine and they needed food supplies, but those things hadn’t been provided. She wasn’t sure if her faith was strong enough to believe God would give them a horse. Oh, she had no doubt He could do it if He wanted to, but it was the wanting to part she wasn’t sure of. She’d once been a young bride filled with hopes and dreams, but then her dreams died one by one, until her life became a lonely struggle to stay alive and put food on the table.

  “Don’t look so long in the face, punkin. Things will work out.”

  She managed to give him a wobbly smile, not wanting him to worry about her. She hated that she didn’t trust God more. In her heart, she knew that He could do anything, but it was her practical mind that was doing the arguing. It grew harder and harder to believe, when she had watched her family go hungry and live with so little for months on end.

  After covering up both Michael and Grandpa, she sat there trying to decide what to fix for supper. All of her staples were getting low, and she needed to finish up the mending in order to replenish them.

  Guilt washed over her knowing how disappointed her mother would be with her lack of faith. Oh, if only her parents hadn’t died, surely things would be different. Life had changed so much after the fire that killed her folks and burned their home to the ground. The move from their Topeka farm to their grandparents’ ranch in southern Kansas had been a blessing to Lara after all that had happened, and she was terribly relieved her siblings were able to stay together. But Jo had cried for her mama for ages, and Jack was angry. Grandpa tried to comfort and guide him, but Jack saw it as Grandpa wanting to control him.

  Crying over what-ifs didn’t change things. She mustered up a weak prayer for God to send them a horse and a stronger plea for Grandpa to have a quick recovery. He was down to his last two quinine pills. She wrung her hands together. Please, God, help me find a way to make some money so I can purchase Grandpa’s medicine.

  A horse nickered, and a shadow filled the open doorway. People rarely meandered out to their little acre of land, and curiosity pulled her to the door like a magnet.

  Their landlord, Herman Hancock, dismounted his horse and turned to face her. He pulled his hat from his head and held it tightly in front of him. “Good day, Mrs. Talbot.”

  “Same to you, Mr. Hancock.” Lara motioned him away from the soddy and toward the creek, dreading the conversation to come. She still didn’t have the money to pay their rent. “Could I offer you a drink of water?”

  He squirmed and looked toward the creek then followed her. “No thanks.” He glanced at the soddy. “Is Daniel here? I need to talk to him.”

  “He’s here, but he’s having one of his episodes.”

  Mr. Hancock pursed his lips. “Right sorry to hear that, ma’am.” He glanced up at the sky for a moment then looked at her. “I—uh—have some news that I’m sure you won’t be too happy to hear.”

  Her heart dropped. Not more bad news.

  He shuffled his feet in the dirt then glanced at her. “Guess you may have heard my son Gavin got married last month while he was up in Nebraska visiting my oldest son. Right fine weddin’ they had,
too.” He smiled, his eyes holding a faraway stare.

  “Gavin had thought to stay up there and learn blacksmithing, but he’s changed his mind. His wife don’t like the cold weather and has a hankerin’ to come down here to live. I’m sorry to drop this on you all so sudden like, but I just got a telegram saying they’ll be back on the fourteenth, and I’ll need this place for them.”

  “Why that’s only a few days away!” Lara felt the skin on her face tighten as the blood drained from it. Her mind swirled. What in the world would they do? She wanted to rant and rave. Scream and cry “unfair!” but the concerned expression in Mr. Hancock’s kind eyes held her silent.

  “I’m real sorry, ma’am. I was hoping you folks might have plans to ride in that big horse race for free land. I do hate putting you out so suddenly.”

  Lara straightened her back and held up her head. “It’s all right, Mr. Hancock. The good Lord will provide.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, and guilt instantly assaulted her at the doubts coursing through her.

  “Thank you for being so understanding, ma’am.” He set his hat back on his head. “I know you’ve had hard times with Daniel being ill, and you probably don’t have the rent money you still owe for last month or this month so far.”

  Lara’s poor heart was getting a workout, and she slipped her hand over her chest. If he required payment, there’d be no money for food—or medicine.

  His gaze traveled from the goats to her garden. “What say we swap a goat and the future pickings from your garden in exchange for the rent you owe, and call it even?”

  Her throat tightened and eyes stung. His offer was kind and generous, but how could she part with one of her beloved goats? She was very tempted to leave behind Bad Billy, but they needed his services so that the nannies would continue to have kids and give the milk that Michael needed. But maybe she could part with one. She really had no choice.

  “All right, sir, it’s a deal.” She held out her hand, and he shook it.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “We’ll be out by the end of the week. Would you like to go ahead and take the goat rather than me leaving her here unprotected?”

  He eyed the fence holding the smelly animals and nodded.

  “Which one do you want?” Please don’t pick Mildred. Lara’s grandmother had given her Mildred when the goat was a kid, just a month before Grandma died. Lara couldn’t bear to part with her.

  “I reckon any of them will do as long as it’s healthy. Gavin’s married a widow with a couple of little girls, and they’ll need the milk.” Mr. Hancock uncurled a rope that had been tied to his saddle and handed it to her.

  With heavy feet, she shuffled over to the goat fence and enticed Lolly out with a handful of grass. She patted her brown and white hide then slipped the rope over the goat’s head. As Mr. Hancock rode off, Lolly’s frantic tugging at the rope and confused bleats brought tears to Lara’s eyes.

  The other goats joined in, making a ruckus that was sure to awaken Michael. “Hush, you all.”

  Lara looked heavenward, tears filling her eyes. They were just starting to gather a few peas and some other things from the garden, and she’d even decided the carrots were going to pull through, but now they’d have to leave it all for others to enjoy. With all the people crowding into the area, how was she supposed to find a place for them to live? If they moved to another city, she’d lose her mending customers. How would they survive?

  “Why this now, Lord?” Lara tightened her fist. “Have You forgotten about us? Grandpa has such faith in You. Please don’t let him down. When will You answer our prayers?”

  Chapter 6

  As Gabe looked around the crowded train depot, a sense of pride filled him—and pride was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. The horses he’d ordered Homer to buy from Mr. Swanson and have shipped on the train from Kansas City had sold in minutes. Only one was left.

  “Forty-five dollars.” A red-faced man Gabe recognized as John Hawkins waved his beefy hand.

  “Fifty.”

  “Sixty!” Arthur Drexel shouted.

  Gabe stood back, leaning against the depot wall, amazed at how much these people were willing to pay for an average horse with no saddle or bridle. With only two weeks to go to the land rush, desperation was growing faster than stacks of coins at a poker table.

  “Sold! To the man in the gray hat.” The skinny auctioneer Gabe had hired pounded his gavel on a fence post. “Gentlemen, you all who won bids can pay Mr. Coulter and then collect your horses. We’re much obliged that you came out today.”

  One by one, the men paid Gabe then gathered their horses. He counted the money, gave the auctioneer his pay, and stuffed the rest into his pocket. He stood straighter, enjoying the guilt-free sensation of having completed a legitimate business deal.

  “You plannin’ on having any more horses for sale before the run?” a tall man with a pencil-thin mustache asked.

  Gabe rubbed his thumb and index finger on his chin and glanced at Homer, who nodded, indicating Mr. Swanson had more horses he was willing to part with. Gabe focused on the tall man again. “Same time next week.”

  The man smiled and nearly shook Gabe’s arm off. “Great! Wonderful! Save one for me, will you?”

  “I’d like to do that, but they’ll be auctioned off just like the ones today were.”

  The man’s brows dipped. “All right then, I’ll just have to get my hands on some more money by then.”

  As he ambled away, Homer waddled toward Gabe. “Swanson said he had five more mares he could sell and two geldings. His wife has been naggin’ him for a bigger house, so he was more willin’ to part with them than usual.”

  “Perfect timing for us.” Gabe reached into his pocket, pulled out several bills, and handed them to Homer. “This is for you. Good job.” He counted out another hundred dollars. “Give this to Mr. Swanson, and tell him I’ll give him the balance of what I owe as soon as I sell the other mounts next week.”

  Homer nodded and shoved the bills in the pocket on the bib of his overalls. “You gonna play poker tonight?”

  “Nah, don’t think so.”

  Homer gave him an odd look. “I am, though I’ve gotta call it an early night. Gotta ticket for a noon train back to Kansas City tomorrow.”

  “Good. Timing is critical, so be sure you make that train—and see that you don’t gamble with any of my money.” Gabe stared at Homer until he nodded. So far Homer had proven trustworthy, but one hundred dollars would tempt many men. “You know anyone else up there with horses for sale?”

  Homer grinned, and his three chins melded into one. “Maybe. I could check with the liveries and ask Travis Martin and Jake Farley.”

  Gabe nodded. “Do that, and find me a fast saddle horse that’s gentle.”

  Homer cast a sideways glance at him. “How come you need another horse?”

  “That’s my business.” Gabe pinned Homer with a stern stare.

  Homer nodded and lumbered out of the depot.

  Patting his pocket, Gabe headed toward his hotel room. He tipped his hat to a pair of women he passed on the boardwalk, and then his feet slowed as a man shoved open the doors to the Lucky Chance saloon and nearly collided with him. As the stranger scowled and sidled around Gabe without even an apology, the familiar scents of smoke and booze left in his wake taunted Gabe’s senses. He never was a drinker, but that old pull to find a game of chance and double his money lured him just inside the saloon. He surveyed the smoke-filled building, listening to the masculine chatter and laughter. Since coming to Caldwell he hadn’t once played cards or gambled. There was something wholesome and exciting about earning money in a legitimate, honest manner—and he liked it.

  Yes sir, he enjoyed that good feeling warming his chest. He released the swinging door and continued down the boardwalk, ignoring the lure of the tinny-sounding piano and familiar scents.

  The aromas emanating from Myrtle’s Café, however, were too much to resist. Gabe entered the small resta
urant, his stomach rumbling, and found a table looking out over the street. Every day, more and more people surged into town, hoping to participate in the land rush. As he’d been exercising Tempest, he’d discovered that just outside of Caldwell, for nearly as far as one could see, were tents, wagons, and families filled with hope and glimmering eyes.

  All except for Lara Talbot. He watched her cross the street, coming almost straight toward him. Her head hung down, and when she glanced up, her eyes looked sad—desperate—like a man who’d gambled away his whole paycheck and had to go home and tell his wife.

  Gabe wanted to call her in and have her eat until she filled out her skin. She was far too thin and seemed to be carrying a burden too heavy for her slight shoulders.

  She’d made it clear, though, that she didn’t welcome his advances. He watched her until she disappeared down the boardwalk. Why did she tug at his heartstrings so much?

  A girl who looked to be fourteen or fifteen set a plate heaping with beef stew and corn bread in front of him. She batted her long lashes, and a coy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Gabe knew that look. He nodded his thanks and turned his gaze away. Not interested.

  The only woman to snag his attention lately was a grieving widow who couldn’t care less about him.

  As he scooped up a spoonful of steaming stew, he thought about the promise he’d made to his mother on her deathbed. At the time, he’d agreed to find a God-fearing woman to marry, simply to calm his mother. He’d never been a man to give his word lightly, but he couldn’t help wondering how a professional gambler was supposed to find a Christian woman willing to marry him. Most churchgoing folks he recognized in KC shunned anybody who made a living in a saloon.

  He buttered a thick square of corn bread and took a bite. His thoughts continued to travel back to Lara Talbot.

  Why did he think of her when he thought of his promise?

  Gabe shook his head. What a crazy idea!

  The tantalizing aromas of cooking food made Lara’s mouth water as she trudged down the steps of Pearl’s Boardinghouse to the street. She hadn’t placed much hope in getting rooms but figured it was worth a visit to check, in case Pearl might swap two rooms in exchange for her and Jo cooking and cleaning. But the boardinghouse was so full that extra people were sleeping on pallets in some rooms.