by Lori Wick
The closing hymn was led by Silas. His voice was deep and clear. In his closing prayer, he asked for God’s healing hand upon Pastor Nolan and for those who had not yet accepted Christ.
Once back in the wagon, Silas managed the reins, with Grandma Em sitting beside him. Christine slid forward from her place in the backseat until her face nearly touched Grandma Em’s shoulder.
“Grandma Em?” Emily shifted around in her seat with an expectant smile on her face. “You told me your husband, Joseph, was on the other side. Did you mean heaven?” At Grandma Em’s nod she went on. “He believed in Christ and you think he is in heaven?” Again Emily only nodded. “And you also believe in Christ and believe you’re going to see Joseph when you die?”
“With all my heart, Christine.”
It was Christine’s turn to nod. Placing a cool hand on Christine’s flushed cheek, Grandma Em spoke through tears. “I know you are searching, Christine. I also know that God is your answer. God loves you so much, and I’m praying, Christine, that you will open your heart to that love.”
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Even though the horses were at a crawl, they were already pulling up to Grandma Em’s house. Unlike on most Sundays, everyone including Luke and his guests had arrived ahead of Grandma Em, so she decided it was best to let things go for now.
“If you want to talk later, Christine…” she let the sentence go unfinished. Grandma Em hugged Christine and then Silas was helping her from the wagon. Christine watched as she hurried toward the house.
Christine was preoccupied when Silas helped her down from the wagon. So she was doubly surprised when Silas gave her a big hug. The embrace broken, Christine stood staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. It took a moment for her to realize that in Silas’ own quiet way he knew she was hurting. A gentle finger came out to touch the end of her nose, and he smiled kindly at her before moving away to take care of the horses.
Reluctant to go inside, Christine’s footsteps were weary as she walked to the house. Knowing there was no way she could be alone, Christine made an effort to put her confusing thoughts aside.
Christine had no more stepped into the entryway when a small blonde person ran through the parlor and hid behind her skirt. Within moments Charles was planted in front of Christine, hands on his small hips. “I know you’re back there, Em. It’s my marble and I want it back.”
“Cal gave it to me.” The small voice was muffled, and Christine wondered if she were crying.
“He can’t give it to you. It’s mine.”
Christine, who was needed in the kitchen, was on the verge of stepping in when Mac appeared beside his small son.
“I hope you have a good reason for trapping Christine against the front door.” John MacDonald dwarfed the five-year-old, but Charles showed no fear as he pointed toward Christine’s skirt. “Emily is back there and she’s got my marble.”
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Mac’s eyes followed the direction of Charles’ finger and laughter rumbled out of his chest when Christine’s skirt moved around her legs as she herself stood perfectly still. “Are you harboring a fugitive, Christine?”
“Not intentionally,” Christine laughed with him. She made an attempt to move toward the kitchen, but the little girl behind her had other ideas and held fast.
“Go ahead, Christine, I’ll get her,” Mac said.
Christine turned then and exposed Emily. In one movement, surprisingly fast for a man Mac’s size, she was in his arms. Christine glanced back before walking quickly through the house. Charles was standing below his father, looking up at the little girl in his arms. Emily’s hand was clenched into a fist, the coveted marble obviously inside. Mac was smiling and saying something to her, but Emily’s lower lip was out a city block and she was looking most unreasonable.
Christine entered the kitchen to find everything under control. “When you came through the house, Christine, were the kids getting along? I thought I heard raised voices.” Julia spoke from her place at the stove.
Christine peeked at the gravy that Julia was stirring before moving toward Susanne, who was slicing fruit into a bowl. Christine gently removed the knife from Sue’s grasp. Taking the smaller woman by the shoulders, she steered her to a chair at the kitchen table. Christine then took over where Sue had left off, all the time explaining about Emily, Charles, Mac, and the marble.
Julia, Grandma Em, and Sue all laughed at the end of the story. Christine joined them, unaware of how much their laughter was over the way she had maneuvered a very pregnant Susanne.
Julia’s eyes lingered on Christine as she worked. She was so much a part of them now-just like family. She felt a sting behind her eyes as she silently prayed that Christine would soon be a member of God’s family too.
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Earlier Grandma Em had quickly told her and Susanne about the conversation in the wagon. Grandma Em had said a quick prayer as they stood together in the kitchen, asking God to save Christine and to use them as instruments as He needed them.
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Not until it was time to sit down to dinner did Christine meet Frank and Caroline Chambers. It was to date the most humiliating introduction that Christine had ever experienced.
“Christine, this is Frank Chambers. We bought the new horses from his stables in Chicago.” Christine shook his hand. “And this is his daughter, Caroline.” Christine’s hand went out for the expected handshake, but Caroline’s words stilled her movements. “Why, you’re as tall as Julia!” Caroline’s voice was shocked and slightly outraged.
Joseph Bennett had, from the time Christine was small, instilled in her a pride about who and what she was. She had never been allowed to slouch or to be ashamed of her height. She was told to hold her head up and look people in the eye. But at that moment she felt she would have given a year off her life to be a foot shorter.
Christine’s eyes took in the petite woman before her: big, light-blue eyes, very blonde hair, pale skin. Christine felt as big as Mac and as dark as the wooden Indian downtown.
Caroline didn’t realize how her words sounded, so she went on. “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised, since most all of the Camerons are so tall.” Caroline smiled adoringly up at Luke.
“Oh! I’m not related to the Camerons. My last name is Bennett.”
“That’s right,” Luke said, smiling kindly and putting his hand on Christine’s shoulder. “Christine lives here and works for my grandmother.”
“She works for your grandmother and she’s going to sit down to dinner with us?” Caroline’s voice was incredulous.
Christine drew back as if she’d been slapped. Caroline’s words had been spoken without thought. Watching Luke
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and Christine exchange a smile in church, plus watching him put his hand on her shoulder, had been fine-until she found out they were not related to each other.
Slowly Caroline became aware of a tense silence which had permeated the room. Even her father, who thought she could do no wrong, was staring at her as if she had taken leave of her senses.
Surprisingly enough, Christine was the one to save the meal. Quietly and with a calmness she herself could hardly believe, she said, “Let’s eat.”
For Christine the meal was a strain. She ate mechanically. The food that had smelled so good in the kitchen now tasted like sawdust in her mouth. As the meal progressed, Christine’s embarrassment faded to an emotion she could not quite define. Something almost painful stirred within her each time she saw Caroline’s hand on Luke’s arm and each time she leaned toward him to smile into his face. What Christine failed to notice was that Luke’s return smile was forced and that he had glanced in her direction more than once to see how she was faring.
But, no, Christine didn’t see any of this. She only saw a pretty blonde who made her feel ungainly, too tan, and unwanted. Plus this intruder had Luke’s full attention. So Christine continued to eat, feeling miserable and every bit as green as the color of her eyes. It might have helped to define th
e word, but Christine, having never before been jealous, was left in the dark. Her thoughts were bleak, even going so far as preferring Spooner with all its danger to being in Baxter today.
“Did anyone see you come?” “No, sir, no one.”
Vince Jeffers grunted and glared at the man before speaking. “Get back to the Bennett house.” “What for?” The small man interrupted.
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“Just shut up and I’ll tell you.” Vince growled at the man. “I think the old lady has heard from the girl. Look for a letter, a paper with an address, anything that would lead to wherever she’s hiding.” Vince Jeffers’ voice lowered to a deadly calm before continuing. “You’d better not mess up this time. I’m nearing the end of my patience. Now get out of here and don’t return until you have an address for me.”
Long after the hired man left, Vince sat in the shadowy study. Time was running out. Already he had lost out on two deals requiring large sums of money he simply didn’t have.
Rising, he went to the window. Winter was nearly upon them. The days as well as his time continued to shorten. He didn’t know if he could take another winter in Wisconsin, but without that money he was going nowhere.
Vince’s words echoed in the stillness of the room with deadly self-assurance. “I’ll find you, Christine Bennett, and when I do, you’ll pay for the trouble you’ve caused me before you die.”
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A loud snort sent a white mist billowing into the crisp morning air as Luke’s mount tossed his head and pawed the earth. They had ridden hard, Luke giving the horse his head, willing to follow his lead.
Now the horse stood atop a small rise. Luke was still mounted and surveying the Cameron ranch. The setting was peaceful, and Luke’s heart swelled with thanksgiving for the wealth that he and Silas shared-not money (although they never went hungry) but the land, its heritage, loved ones, health, the fine animals they bred. He could have gone on forever.
An hour earlier, when Luke had saddled Titan, his thoughts had not been so peaceful. Not for a moment had his mind been off Caroline and her thoughtless words that had hurt Christine. Luke’s emotions had run the gamut: anger, frustration, pity, despair, compassion.
Sunday Luke had waged an inner battle over speaking with Caroline. But it was taken out of his hands on the way back to the hotel. Frank had rebuked Caroline in front of Luke, and, whether out of embarrassment or true belief that she had done no wrong, Caroline had stomped into the hotel without a word of apology. Frank had expressed his own regrets before going into the hotel with a worried frown on his face.
Normally Luke would have put the entire affair in the back of his mind, feeling it was Frank’s to handle. But the fact was that the Chambers’ were his guests, and he felt responsible.
He would never forget the look on Christine’s face; she didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She worked hard and was honest. Luke respected her.
Heeling Titan into a smooth gallop, Luke reflected on his previous time in prayer. He had put all these feelings at
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Christ’s feet and had come away knowing that God’s hand was at work. His heart had been settled about Caroline and he had petitioned God from the bottom of his heart about his emotions. Fervently asking God to keep the compassion he felt for Christine from turning into a stronger emotion, he knew that Christine’s salvation was the most important goal right now.
With these thoughts settled in his mind, Luke went up to the house for breakfast, still thanking God for whatever His work was to be.
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Coughing into her apron, Christine squinted against the dust billowing around her. She hated beating rugs. There had been a time as a little girl when she couldn’t wait to help Mrs. Hall with her work, but even then beating rugs had been miserable. She couldn’t get it done fast enough.
Grandma Em had walked downtown to the post office and to run errands. Christine worked desperately to get finished before she returned.
Luke rushed into the livery stable. If he didn’t hurry, he would be late arriving at the hotel and lunch with the Chambers’. He tugged at his necktie and prayed for patience. Dressing up for the third day in a row was not his preference. A quick check with Jack about the leather harness to be ordered and he could be on his way.
Jack was bent over a horse’s hoof. Luke was standing quietly waiting when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see the sheriff beckoning to him and moving a few stalls away. Luke stopped beside the man and nearly spoke when the sheriff said in a quiet voice, “I’ve heard from the sheriff in Spooner. He’s a good man whose reputation precedes him, and I trust him.” Luke opened his mouth to ask the sheriff what he was talking about, but the man went on. “He sent a description of Maxwell, the missing man, and has several leads he plans to check out. He’ll keep me informed. It’s up to you what you share with Miss Bennett, but I thought I’d let you know.” With a tip of his hat, the man was gone.
Luke stood frozen, feeling as if someone had just thrown a hard right punch to his stomach. His thoughts were in
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chaos. The sheriff in Spooner, a missing man, Miss Bennett, Christine?
Stumbling out of the livery, the harness and lunch with the Chambers’ forgotten, Luke headed to his brother’s house. Somehow he knew Mark had the answers to his questions, and Luke had every intention of getting them.
“You got a letter!” Grandma Em called up the stairs. Christine came rushing down, an excited smile on her face. She remembered her manners just before tearing open the envelope. “How was your walk into town?” she inquired politely.
Emily laughed merrily, shook her head, and walked toward the kitchen. “Open your letter, Christine. We’ll talk later.”
Christine did as she was bade, her hands shaking.
Dear Christie,
I miss you. The house is empty without your smiles and laughter to warm the day.
The weather is getting cold now. The sheriff said it would be too conspicuous to send a box, so I ordered you a coat. Write me when it arrives.
I realize, Christie, it’s hard for you not to be here. I will go through your grandfather’s things and treat everything with the utmost care.
The Sheriff also told me to send word to the sheriff in Baxter. I’ll send news as I receive it. The search for Carl Maxwell goes on.
Please take care of yourself, Christie. My heart and thoughts are with you.
Love,
Mrs. Hall
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Christine folded the letter and put it in her pocket. A tear slid down her cheek. Carl Maxwell was still missing. He might even be dead. A shiver ran down Christine’s spine as she thought of death. If Carl was dead, would she be next? The thought rode hard upon her that day and even into the night.
With a final fist into his pillow, Luke gave up on getting comfortable. Sleep was as far away as the North Pole.
Stabbed! Mark said Christine had been stabbed. Luke’s heart wrenched at the thought. His eyes closed and he was once again in Mark’s office.
“So you see, I didn’t have a chance to tell the sheriff he had the wrong brother. I’ll ask you again, Mark. Why is the sheriff in Spooner interested in Christine?”
Mark’s battle with his oath was short. His brother’s question was from the heart and born out of a fear for his grandmother, Christine, and the entire family. So Mark quietly told him all he knew, beginning with the night he carried Christine into his office and ending with the talk under the willow tree last week.
Luke sat in stunned silence as he listened to all that Christine had suffered in complete innocence. He was in full agreement with Mark: Her arrival in Baxter was no coincidence. God had put her here to find Him.
Luke rose from the bed. The room was chilly, but he didn’t notice the cold as he pulled a chair near the window and sat looking at the crescent moon.
Caroline’s anger at his being late to the hotel drifted momentarily across his mind before his heart stepped before Go
d. Luke claimed every verse he knew about God’s love and salvation for the lost. He placed Christine in God’s hands with each verse, unaware of how desperately his prayers were needed at that very moment.
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“No! No!” Christine’s screams rent the air. Her door slammed open just as Grandma Em stepped into the hall.
Christine rushed toward the stairs but stopped short at seeing Grandma Em. “He’s trying to kill me! I’ve got to get away. He’s got a knife!” Christine’s voice was high-pitched and hysterical, her eyes like saucers as she gestured wildly before racing again toward the stairs.
“Christine!” Grandma Em reached for her but Christine eluded her grasp. “Christine!” Grandma Em followed her down the stairs, silently pleading with God for help. “Christine, it was just another dream. Christine-please stop.”
Nearly to the parlor, Christine in her haste missed the last step. She fell forward, her head hitting the wall to the side of the staircase before she rolled onto her side and lay in a heap at the bottom.
She sat up and rubbed her head in confusion. Grandma Em knelt beside her, her face lined with worry. Christine’s eyes went back up the staircase. It was coming back to her in a rush: She had had another nightmare.
Would she ever get over her fear of death? She was so far from Spooner but still haunted by her fears. She felt helpless. Tears filled her eyes and she began to tremble. “I’m sorry,” she choked out.
“Shhh, don’t cry. It’s all right. I’m right here.” Grandma Em’s hand smoothed Christine’s tumbled hair and gently touched her cheek. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
Christine was still trembling as she sat on the side of her bed. Grandma Em sat beside her, listening and praying. “He was by my bed at home. He had a knife. I thought it was real and he was right here in the room with me.”
“Christine.” Something in Grandma Em’s voice pulled her out of her miserable shell and made her look up. “Christine, what if you had died tonight, if it hadn’t been a dream and you were really killed?” Emily let this sink in for a moment. “Where, Christine? Where would you spend eternity?” Grandma Em’s voice ended on an urgent note.