Diane T. Ashley

by Jasmine

  “I’ve often wondered about the man sowing the seeds in this parable. Many of you are farmers, and I know you wouldn’t bother to plant your precious seed out there on top of rocks, would you?”

  A couple of the men answered in the negative.

  “Would you plant them so shallowly that animals could eat them or fail to pull the weeds from your fields before you planted your seed?”

  No one answered the question this time, but David could tell by the silence behind him that the pastor had everyone’s attention.

  “Of course you wouldn’t. If you did, your families would starve. So why does Jesus tell us about someone being so foolish?” The pastor stopped to let the question settle in. “Because He knows that any one of us can have a stony heart. He knows that any of us can become shallow and self-absorbed. We can forget our faith when we become distracted by the pleasures of this world.”

  David sat a little straighter in the pew. He hoped Jasmine was paying close attention. He knew God must have meant for the pastor to choose these verses for her sake.

  “But that’s not the only point of this story. It’s not the only lesson Jesus wants us to learn. So why didn’t He tell us about only sowing seed in rich, prepared soil?” The pastor looked straight at David, the fire of his message lighting his eyes. “Friends, you and I need to remember that we as Christians are the sowers. We’re not supposed to worry about the fruit of the Gospel. We can’t make the seed we spread grow. All God wants us to do is sow His seed. He will take care of the rest.”

  David’s mouth fell open. He forgot all about Jasmine and her lack of faith as the truth pierced his own heart. He had been so busy trying to correct Jasmine’s behavior, trying to make her act like he thought a Christian sister should. That wasn’t his job. All God wanted him to do was sow the seed. He was trying to change Jasmine, an impossible task for a human being. Only Jesus could change someone.

  As God continued to speak to him through the preacher, David determined to be the witness God needed him to be. He sent a prayer heavenward for the strength he knew it would take.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Folding chairs lined the decks of the two larger steamboats for the addition of paying guests during the race. Vance purchased tickets for himself and Jasmine—and with a little prodding, Clem—on the Marc Antony. The sun had barely escaped the horizon as they took their seats on the spotless deck. Streamers hung limply from the rails in preparation for the extreme speeds the boat would attain during the contest.

  “Do you think we’ll win?” Clem wore a hat with a wide brim to shade her face. She had secured it to her head with a blue lawn scarf that matched the color of her dress.

  Jasmine could imagine an artist capturing her friend’s excited face and fashionable appearance for use in Harper’s Bazaar. “It doesn’t really matter. All we have to do is enjoy the scenery.”

  A white-coated server appeared with steaming cups of chocolate to warm them against the cool, damp air. Vance handed her a cup, and Jasmine held it close to her face, inhaling the sweet fragrance.

  “It’s a shame your brother couldn’t join us.” Clem sipped from her mug.

  Vance’s face showed his disagreement with the statement, although he made no comment. “I don’t see how we can lose. In fact, I’ve wagered a large sum of money on it. The Marc Antony is a modern boat with the latest innovations. She’s only been on the water for half a year.”

  Jasmine slid a glance in his direction. “I hope you’re not disappointed. It’s not always the date on the boiler that decides the victor. The Davy Crockett may be older, but she has a knowledgeable pilot and an experienced crew. She might have been a better choice.”

  His unsettled glance toward her made Jasmine wonder if Vance needed to win his bet. The idea took root in her mind like an evil weed. If he was having money problems, it would make him more likely to join himself with bank robbers. But that made no sense, either. The man who had been working with the robbers wouldn’t have money troubles. He’d be flush with his ill-gotten gain.

  The boat filled up with other passengers—twenty in all—and the gangplank was lifted away from the bank.

  Jasmine turned to Vance. “How long will the race take?”

  “We’ll be traveling downriver ten miles to a small island. Each boat must circumnavigate the island before returning to Cairo. The captain estimates that it will take less than two hours total to get back to the finish line at that cottonwood.” He pointed to a large tree overhanging the bank some yards away. Someone had plaited its thick limbs with wide lengths of red. “The first boat to capture a ribbon will be declared the winner.”

  “We won’t miss anything while we’re gone, will we?” Clem leaned forward, her gaze fixed on the people beginning to line up on the riverbank. “I noticed the fliers mentioned races and equestrian exhibitions.”

  “I doubt it.” Jasmine put her free hand on the arm of Clem’s chair. “Most everyone is going to be waiting to see who wins the race.”

  “Yoo-hoo.” A feminine voice gained her attention. “Look, it’s Angelica and Rafe. They’re on the Davy Crockett.”

  “Too bad they chose the losing steamboat.” Vance’s smug words were as irritating as a swarm of gnats.

  Jasmine gritted her teeth and waved at the other couple. “As long as everyone has a good time, it doesn’t really matter.”

  They watched as a short, barrel-chested man climbed onto the stage that would be the central focus of the day’s activities and addressed the crowd. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I know everyone’s eager to begin our patriotic celebration, but please bear with me for a few moments while I cover some of the rules we’ll be observing.”

  A general groan or two from the crowd showed their disapproval, but the man continued anyway. He warned that no weapons were to be discharged except the starter gun and asked everyone to maintain polite and civil manners. He went on to point out the doctor’s tent next to the stage and expressed his hope that no one would be in need of medical service. He reminded them of the various contests that would be going on during the day, the dramatic performance that would begin at dusk, and the fireworks spectacular that promised to end the day with a “bang.” A louder groan answered his sally, and a grin split the man’s face. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pistol and aimed it toward the sky.

  Jasmine saw the puff of smoke before she heard the report of his weapon. The crowd cheered as the deck below her feet began to shudder. Thick, black plumes of smoke poured from the twin stacks above their heads, while behind them, the paddlewheel roared to life. The race had begun.

  Clem jumped to her feet, leaning over the rail and waving at the people they swept past. Jasmine would have joined her, but Vance reached over and put a hand on her arm. “If this race goes like I expect, things are going to be different for me in the future, and I hope different for you, too.”

  The girl she’d been when she first ran away would have been ecstatic because of his words and the intense look he gave her. Jasmine found herself hoping she misunderstood his intent. The direction of her thoughts surprised her. She had never thought of herself as being fickle, but whatever feelings she’d had about Vance seemed to have disappeared.

  Was it her or him? Had she ever really loved Vance? She wasn’t sure anymore. Jasmine shook off his hand without an answer and stood next to Clem, looking to see whether they were still in the lead.

  At the moment it was hard to tell who would win. Their boat rode the choppy waters of the confluence with steady purpose, as did the Davy Crockett. The smaller boats were out in front for the moment, but she knew that would probably change on the way back to Cairo when they fought the strong currents of the swift water.

  “Look, is that the island?” Clem pointed toward a small spot of green ahead.

  Jasmine shook her head. “If it’s that close, the race won’t last fifteen minutes, much less two hours.”

  Vance made a space for himself between the
m, but his eyes focused on her face. “Would you like to take a tour of the boat?”

  She looked past him to Clem, who nodded. “I don’t think there will be much to see out here until we reach the halfway point.”

  The three of them picked their way between the seats of the other onlookers and headed for the main room on the lower deck. A large table in the center of the room was piled high with an array of breakfast foods. Biscuits, fresh fruit, bacon, scrambled eggs, jams, and jellies looked tempting. They were welcomed by the staff and offered delicate porcelain plates and gleaming silverware.

  Jasmine’s stomach growled. She looked at Vance. “How much did our tickets cost?”

  He shrugged, a smile on his face. “You’re worth the price, Jasmine.”

  Clem rolled her eyes, accepted a plate, and began heaping food onto it. “I, for one, am glad she is.”

  Jasmine chose a fluffy biscuit and a spoonful of eggs, glad she hadn’t taken time to eat before leaving the Ophelia. The food was delicious, and Clem’s enthusiasm was contagious. She hoped the rest of the day would be equally enjoyable.

  They had barely finished when one of the passengers came running inside. “We’re about to reach the island.”

  Jasmine looked around to see that all four boats were running very close. She had no idea who would reach the finish first.

  “I don’t have any hard evidence.” David blew out an exasperated breath. It was often difficult working with local law enforcement. He should know by now that patience was the best defense against suspicion and resistance.

  “But you still want me to assign a deputy to stay at the bank in case it is robbed?” Sheriff Ambrose Cunningham wore his uniform well. Although not as tall as David, his thick chest and muscled arms would inspire fear in any criminal. “This is one of the busiest days of the year. I only have two men working for me, and they need to be visible, not hidden away waiting for someone who’s probably not coming anyway.”

  “What better time to rob the bank than when everyone is focused on the celebration?”

  “I thought you said these bank robbers know all the details about the inside of a bank before they strike. What gives you the idea they’ll try to get into our bank while it’s closed?”

  David relaxed his shoulders with an effort. The sheriff was a nice man, and by all accounts honest, but he obviously didn’t like to depart from his routine. “Because it’s the easiest way to commit a robbery. Why take the chance that someone might surprise them during normal working hours, when the Fourth of July activities give them the perfect opportunity to slip in, help themselves to the cash inside, and disappear before anyone realizes they’re here?”

  “I’m spread too thin today anyway. I don’t see how I can help you.”

  “I understand.” At least he had tried to work with the authorities. “You don’t mind if I keep watch over the bank, do you?”

  “Go ahead, young man. I’ve heard a lot of stories about you Pinkertons. I’m sure you can handle yourself if your fellows do show up.”

  David left the jail and put his hat on his head as he considered his next step. A glance toward the sky told him it was going to be another warm day. The population of Cairo was swollen with strangers from nearby villages. It was the perfect time for strangers to mingle unnoticed. He knew the one bank in town was too easy a target for Hargrove and his gang to resist. That’s where he would wait.

  Brick with wide windows, the two-story building offered no place for him to hide. David walked around to the alley alongside the building. Shadows filled the area. He stretched his hearing to its limit. If the robbers planned ahead, they might already be here. His hand rested on the gun he had strapped on before leaving the Miss Polly.

  A sound in the shadows at the back of the alley made him slip off the leather guard holding his weapon in its holster. A rat dashed out of the darkness, closely followed by a scrawny cat. David grimaced at his jumpiness and reholstered his gun. Taking a deep breath, he entered the alley, looking for a place to hide while he waited for the robbers to strike.

  This had to be the day, the day he would finally catch the robbers and end this assignment. He would take great pleasure in fastening a pair of handcuffs on Vance Hargrove and dragging him off to prison. He knew the man was guilty, felt it in his heart. He knew Jasmine didn’t agree, but she didn’t have his experience.

  He stopped the thought as the pastor’s message from the day before returned to him. Was he making the same mistake again? Was his smug self-righteousness keeping him from seeing the truth? David sank to his knees at the edge of the alley, locked his hands in front of him, and closed his eyes.

  Lord, thank You for showing me the error of my ways. I know I’m apt to act before I think. Help me to wait on Your leading. You’re in control. Please help me stop these men before they hurt anyone else. And God, forgive me for ignoring the beam in my own eye while I was so concerned with the mote in Jasmine’s. I’m going to leave that problem up to You … or at least I’m going to try.

  Feeling much more calm, David got back to his feet. When he looked in the alley this time, he saw a stairwell that led to the bank’s roof. With an additional thanks to God, he ran to the wooden steps and climbed up. The view from the roof showed him every entrance to the bank. The thieves would not be able to get away. All he had to do now was wait.

  Cheers from the riverbank told him that the boats must be within sight once more. Was Jasmine down there somewhere? Or was she still asleep on the Ophelia? He hoped it was the latter. Maybe she would have a good time at the fair and forget about the robberies.

  A couple of young boys ran down the street, their laughter bringing a smile to his face. They dashed past the bank and disappeared, leaving him alone once more. David lay back on the flat roof and put his hands behind his head. Was this what his future would be like? Would he always be so alone?

  He reached for his shirt pocket and pulled out the letter from his father. Turning it over in his hands, he heard Marguerite Trahan’s question once again. Who would it hurt if he forgave his pa? If he let go of the past, of the terrible choices his mother had made, of the way he’d had to rely on the charity of others to survive?

  A laugh floated upward on the breeze, interrupting his thoughts. Jasmine? David raised his head over the edge of the roof and looked down into the street. A couple was strolling past the bank. It was hard to tell who the woman was because her large hat hid her features from him. But the man was certainly not Vance. His hair was a lighter brown, and he walked with a slight limp.

  As David watched, the limping man stopped, pulled the female into his arms, and began kissing her. She didn’t struggle, instead reaching a hand up to caress his cheek. The man pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss. Suddenly realizing that he was spying on a private moment, David drew back.

  They moved on, and his thoughts turned back to his father. Blake had told him Christ would help him figure out how to forgive Pa. But how? A scripture from Psalms floated to the surface of his mind. “Be still, and know that I am God.” Was that the answer? He had rushed from one goal to the next for so long now that he’d not taken much time to still his mind and listen for God’s voice. He felt his lips turn up in a smile. Only God would use a time like this—while he was watching for criminals to appear—to speak to him in that still, small voice.

  David closed his eyes. God, I’m listening. Warmth enveloped him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the roof beneath him or the sun above. This feeling came from his heart, from the depths of his soul. And he knew. Forgiveness flowed to him and through him, targeting the emotions he had clung to for so long. With God filling his heart, the bitterness lost its hold. No matter what his parents had done or not done, his heavenly Father would never abandon him. The sadness that had weighted his soul for so long was lost in the realization that God had plans for his future, good plans. The words of the prophet Jeremiah sounded in his mind. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord,
thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.” He basked in the love and understanding of his Father as he continued his vigil.

  Multiple blasts from steamboat whistles indicated that the race was over, and he wondered who had won. The thought disappeared as David heard someone approaching the bank. His heart doubled its speed. Had his hunch been right?

  Peeking over the roof edge, he saw nothing at first. David was beginning to think he’d imagined the sounds when a pair of men moved out of a shadowed doorway across the street, guns drawn. A thump below him was followed by the sound of shattering glass. The bank’s plate glass window. David drew back and stood, easing his way to the street as he drew his own weapon. He breathed a prayer for protection as he rounded the corner of the bank building.

  Two men stood at the busted window, their attention centered on the interior of the building.

  David raised his weapon. “Hold it right there.”

  A rain of bullets answered him as both the robbers swung in his direction.

  David ducked back around the corner of the building.

  “Did we kill him?” He heard one of the men ask the question.

  The only answer was the sound of footsteps running away from David’s position.

  “What’s going on?” Another voice sounded, this one from farther away, probably the man inside.

  “Get out o’ there.” The man who had spoken first yelled the warning as he, too, ran in the opposite direction.

  David came out from his hiding place as the third man dove through the window back onto the street, rolled to a standing position, and took off toward the busy street where the fair was going on. A few steps behind, David centered his attention on catching the robber before anyone else’s life was endangered.

  “You should have consulted Jasmine before making your wager. She comes from a riverboat family, after all.” Clem’s voice sounded less helpful than her words indicated. “Or David would have been happy to advise you.”