by DiAnn Mills
“We had another problem at Heaven’s Gate last night.” Grant nodded at Travis. “That’s a home where women can find shelter from ways of life that don’t honor God.”
“The reverend mentioned it to me. I believe your wife, Morgan’s wife, and Mrs. Hillman oversee the home.”
“Yes. We’ve had a few instances of late that alarm us.” He glanced at his mother.
“Go ahead, Grant. I know what’s been happening there,” she said.
“The same girl who was beaten about six weeks ago was beaten again.” He laid his fork beside the plate. “I treated Rosie. Tried to get her to tell me who’d hurt her, but she refused to give me a name. She has to be covering up for someone, but who? And why?”
“You want me to talk to her?” the reverend said.
“I’d appreciate it. I’m afraid she might not survive another beating. If we could find out who’s responsible, then we could have him arrested.”
“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Travis said. Once Grant and the reverend affirmed him, he braved forward. “So this young woman worked in a house of ill repute?”
“Yes, but she’s been living for the Lord almost a year,” the reverend said. “She’s barely twenty years old and has been attending church. Bonnie and Jenny have been teaching her how to read and write, and she’s been doing housework for Sylvia Hillman. Now that is a good woman. She volunteers more than Bonnie and Jenny. She wanted to take Rosie home with her, but the girl refused.”
“Do you have a suspect?”
“I don’t,” Grant said. “No one has seen any men around Heaven’s Gate, unless she’s slipping out at night.” He leaned back on the legs of his chair. “There’s no reason to keep the man’s name secret unless he’s threatened to kill her.”
“I remember the last time,” Mrs. Rainer said. “How badly is she hurt?”
Grant set his jaw. “Ugly. Makes me want to tear someone apart.”
“I can tell by the look on your face that I need to leave the room.” She stood from the table and picked up a few of the empty dishes. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Mama.” Grant waited until the door between the dining room and kitchen closed. “I’ll be real honest here. Whoever is beating Rosie is careful not to damage her face. She’s black and blue from the neck down, and her left arm is broken.”
“She must be frightened to death.” The reverend shook his head. “Is she back at the home or with you and Jenny?”
“Heaven’s Gate. I don’t think she’d have sought help if one of the other girls hadn’t found her. I talked to Eustes, and he plans to have one of his deputies keep an eye on her.”
Travis wondered what kind of man purposely hit a woman. A weak one, at best. “I’d be glad to talk to Rosie,” he said. “Maybe a new face might help the situation. The reverend here has wisdom and the look of a father figure.”
“The last time Jocelyn went with me, Rosie wouldn’t breathe a word of what happened.” He paused. “Brother Travis, I’d like to check on her in the morning. Mind going along?”
“Be glad to.” A hammering in Travis’s head nearly blinded him. The past always seemed to attack him when he least expected. Trying to help a woman who once lived in a brothel? The thought made him shake to his shoes.
“Thanks.” Grant took a sip of coffee. “Where’s Zack?”
“I’m getting Jocelyn,” the reverend said. “Brother Travis can give you that story.”
A few moments later, Grant stared into Travis’s face. “Sure glad I stopped over here tonight. Military school, huh? I’ll visit with Morgan tomorrow. I imagine he knows more about those things than I do. Like you, Brother Travis, I want to see Zack like he used to be.”
“I think that expecting him to be the happy boy y’all knew when his father was alive is unlikely. It’s impossible to lose someone and then behave as though it never happened. He can find happiness, but he has to trust God again and understand he has a good life ahead of him. The change would be a blessing for all of you.”
“And we’d owe you a tremendous debt,” Grant said.
“If we are blessed to see a change in Zack, it is God who is owed the thanks.”
Later on, as Travis finished reading in his room at a small desk, he pulled out paper and pen to figure out how he was going to school Zack. He already knew the main textbook would be the Bible. Within the covers of those pages, he hoped to build lessons that would help Zack in reading, writing, spelling, ancient history, geography, and hopefully, spirituality. Tomorrow, Travis planned to visit the schoolteacher for help in math. He’d learned she didn’t want the boy back in her class. He shrugged. The idea of teaching Zack a little Greek and Latin had crossed his mind. For a moment, Travis wondered if the education he’d received in seminary had been intended for more than preaching the gospel.
Travis believed God knew all along about how he’d fail at his church in Tennessee and all the horrible gossip and lies that followed. And God knew about the problems here in Kahlerville and his taking on Zack Kahler. Travis blew out an exasperated sigh. The idea of teaching and parenting a twelve-year-old scared him to death. He’d rather take on a town full of heathens. At least he’d have an idea where to begin. God, if You had this all figured out, then You must have a plan in this, too.
His thoughts trailed to Zack’s mother, but no sooner did the image of her face rise in his mind then he pushed it away. His work in Kahlerville did not involve anything to do with a woman, other than tending to the needs of her soul. He stood from the chair and stretched. Before he went to bed, he needed to make sure Zack understood his commitment—whether Zack wanted to hear it or not.
In the darkness, he made his way down the hallway to the boy’s room. Travis knocked once, twice. No response. He twisted the knob and stepped inside a dark room, half expecting him to be gone.
“I have nothing to say to you, Preacher.”
“Good. I came to tell you something.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Then cover your ears, because I intend to say my piece. I’m your last hope—me and God—if you want to stay in Kahlerville and not be sent to a military school. I’m giving you my word that I will do all I can to help you.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“I thought you weren’t listening. Anyway, tomorrow morning you’ll be up at five o’clock. We’ll have early devotions together, then take a walk before breakfast to discuss what God said to us during our Bible reading. After breakfast begins school. While I’m your teacher, we’ll work on the same things your teacher taught. You’re mine until I give you a break. I also plan to teach a few different subjects.”
“Like what?”
“Learning carpentry, hunting, and fishing for starters.”
Silence. But then Travis didn’t expect an answer, and maybe he’d planned all this because deep down he wanted to be that father figure for Zack. Why, he had no idea.
Chapter 9
“How did you fare your first morning with Zack?” Reverend Rainer said as he and Travis walked past the general store and on to Heaven’s Gate.
Travis laughed. Might as well find humor in the mess he’d gotten himself into, or he’d give up on the boy the first day. And he certainly didn’t want to think about stepping into Heaven’s Gate and living through his demons. “I roused him at five just as I warned him the night before. When he failed to acknowledge me the second time, I pulled back his quilt and shook him.”
“Whoa. I don’t know if I’d have been that brave.”
“Well, I’m questioning my sanity. Anyway, after he let me know about his displeasure, I lit the lantern and told him to get dressed or he wouldn’t get breakfast. Figured after going without dinner, he’d be right-smart hungry. That worked. We read the same Bible passage and took a walk before breakfast
to discuss it.”
“What scripture?”
Travis grinned. “‘Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.’ We talked about what that meant.” He shrugged. “I talked, and he looked bored.”
“I probably would have chosen the prodigal son.”
“It crossed my mind. But I’m saving that whole chapter of Luke 15 for when I think he’s ready. So I asked Zack if he liked to fish and told him if he could behave himself for three days, we’d go fishing.”
“What did he say?”
“Said he preferred to go fishing by himself.”
The reverend chuckled. “I shouldn’t be laughing here, but I see the worms in what Zack’s doing.” He laughed. “Pardon my choice of words. But your plan does make good sense.”
“I was awake most of the night praying about it. I won’t give him any slack, but I will let him know I care.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Writing a paper about one thing he likes about his mother. This will be the first of many, and I figure when we’re done, we’ll give them to the right folks. If he refuses, then he can go to bed without dinner again. I also see merit in having him write a paper about what he likes about himself.”
“You’re a good man, Travis. I hope Zack sees and understands what you’re doing real soon. And I hope this town treats you right.”
You wouldn’t be so certain about my character if you knew what happened.
“Are his other grandparents living?”
“Yes. Pete and MayBelle own the general store and the feed store.”
“I remember meeting them. Does Zack see them often?”
“He did until he was caught stealing candy from the store.”
Would the reports about Zack never end?
A few minutes later, they stood outside a fairly new two-story house. If not for the sign on the gate that read “Heaven’s Gate,” Travis would have thought a family lived there. Any mirth he might have felt earlier vanished in light of what had happened to one of the girls housed in this charitable home.
“A brothel once stood here,” the reverend said as though reading Travis’s mind. “It burned, leaving the occupants homeless. Jenny had this house built for the girls who were ready to begin a new life. She, Sylvia, Bonnie, and sometimes Casey, Morgan’s wife, teach the girls all kinds of things, from sewing and cooking to Bible study.”
Mrs. Hillman stepped out onto the front porch, hands perched on her hips. She was a tall woman, not comely, but her heart shone through her smile. He didn’t doubt for one minute that heaven had taken notice of Sylvia Hillman. Everywhere he turned, she was ministering to folks. Strange couple, Lester and Sylvia.
“I saw you two coming. Are you here to see my Rosie?”
“We sure are,” the reverend said. “I wanted her to have an opportunity to talk to Brother Travis personally.”
Mrs. Hillman stuck out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Rosie told me how she liked your preaching.”
“That was right nice of her.” Travis figured the poor girl must be deaf. His sermon last Sunday had been barely tolerable, and tonight’s prayer meeting had best be a sight better, or he’d lose his congregation before he even began.
“Is she feelin’ up to visitors?” the reverend said.
“I’m sure of it. Lester is with her now, reading scripture to her and the other girls.” She blinked. “He’s such a caring man. Why, he’s offered Laura a job at the bank and said he’d train her himself.”
“That is a fine man,” the reverend said.
The two men followed Sylvia inside and up the stairs. Travis plastered on a smile while his insides fought with his heart. Whoever had done this to a poor girl who was trying hard to live a right life ought to be horsewhipped. An image of Felicia flashed across his mind, and he shuddered. He’d done his best to keep her away from a brothel, but all it had accomplished was his losing his church—and any respect from those who mattered. Maybe he could do better this time. He prayed so.
At this moment, Travis needed to put aside his personal feelings about Lester and praise God for a man who went out of his way to help society’s unwanted.
Lester closed the Bible and stood when the reverend and Travis entered the bedroom. He shook hands with both of them. Two other young women stood and greeted them politely and then bent over Rosie to kiss her cheek. A moment later, the other young women left the room.
“Good for you two to come.” Lester smiled down at Rosie. “We just finished reading from the Psalms. I’ll leave you, since I need to get to the bank.” He smiled at Rosie. “You’re doing fine. Remember all we talked about, and I’ll check on you soon.”
Lester left them alone. A tear trickled down Rosie’s cheek, and she whisked it away with her right hand. Her left arm lay bandaged against the side of her body. The injured young woman with jet black hair and olive skin looked to be from Mexico.
“Hello, Rosie, I brought Brother Whitworth with me.”
“Appreciate you coming,” she said.
“Do you feel up to a visit?” the reverend said.
She hesitated and nodded. Why had she refused to name the man who had attacked her? The reverend pulled a chair close to her bed, and Travis did the same.
The reverend took her hand. “Won’t you tell someone who did this to you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“I can’t.” Another tear slipped from her eye, and the reverend wiped it away.
Jesus, help her.
“Are you afraid?”
She nodded. “It’s not just me but others who might get hurt.”
“Not if the sheriff arrests him.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
“And what if it happens again?”
“Please, Reverend. It’s impossible. All I can do is mend and forgive . . . and forget.”
“I understand, but you’re letting a cruel man go unpunished.”
“Look at what I once was. It’s fittin’.”
Travis wanted to come out of his chair, but he swallowed the indignation threatening to boil over. “Miss Rosie, no one deserves this.”
She offered a faint smile. “Tonight’s prayer meetin’, and I’ll miss your sermon.”
“We’ll pray for you,” Travis said.
“Thank you.” Rosie’s eyelids fluttered. “Don’t know why I’m so tired. Must be the medicine Doc Grant gave me.”
Travis glanced at the reverend, who nodded toward the door.
“Brother Whitworth and I’d like to come back and see you. Is that all right?”
“Of course,” she whispered through closed eyes. “You are my Jesus. You and Mrs. Rainer, Mrs. Hillman, Jenny, Bonnie, Casey . . .”
The two men left the room. Nothing settled. No name to bring to Sheriff Arthur.
*****
Bonnie basked in the cool wind blowing against her face. How long had it been since she had felt this content? Lydia Anne sat in front of her, laughing and giggling, not the least bit afraid of racing over the pastureland with the spotted mare heaving beneath them. They’d ridden over most of the ranch with Thomas this morning, seeing parts of her land that Bonnie had long neglected. A spirit of newness and anticipation had taken hold, and she treasured it.
Finally, she pulled the mare to a walk. “We’re going to wear out Indian Sun,” she said.
“Can I ride by myself?” Lydia Anne said.
“Very soon. In fact, we might start this afternoon when you wake from your nap.”
Thomas laughed. “I think the Kahler womenfolk might be entering the horse races next Fourth of July.”
“We might,” Bonnie said. “And we might win.”
“Would Zack be able to watch us?” Lydia Anne said.
For a l
ittle while, Bonnie had pushed aside her concern for her oldest son. “I should hope so. We’d need him to cheer us on.”
She glanced at Thomas, and he gave her a reassuring smile. Bonnie appreciated this fine man, weathered with the knowledge only experience could give. Juanita was one lucky woman.
As they rode back to the house, two riders approached them. She recognized the men as her brothers. Fear tightened her throat. Had something happened to one of her sons?
“Everything is fine with Zack and Michael Paul,” Morgan said when they were within talking distance. “I saw that look on your face.”
She sighed and praised God at the same time. “What brings both of you out here?”
“First of all, you look wonderful,” Grant said.
“Thank you, Doctor. Lydia Anne and I were checking on the cattle and horses.”
“We had fun,” the little girl said. “More fun than baking cookies or planting flowers.”
“More fun than the new kittens we found this morning?”
Lydia Anne tilted her head. “I can’t decide.”
The men laughed, but obviously the little girl didn’t understand. Bonnie kissed her wind-flushed cheeks.
“Good to see you, Thomas,” Morgan said. “Glad you’re here with Bonnie. We wanted to talk to both of you.”
Bonnie looked down at her daughter. Lydia Anne didn’t need to hear anything that could frighten her.
“Hey, little lady,” Grant said. “How about riding back with your Uncle Grant and showing me those new kittens?”
Lydia Anne glanced up at Bonnie. “Can I, Mama?”
“I don’t see why not.” She rode closer to Grant so he could lift the little girl onto his horse.
“Can we run like Mama and me?”
Grant’s gaze flew to Bonnie’s. “You were racing with her?”
She laughed. “We’re tough, aren’t we, Lydia Anne?”
“Yes, ma’am. This afternoon Mama is going to teach me how to ride real fast.”
“Walk first.” Bonnie smiled into the sky blue eyes of her precious daughter. “Have a good time.”