“Not bad advice.” He grinned. “Tell her I’m going to follow it.”
He hung up the phone, then walked outside. Karen was waiting for him beside the holding pen, talking with Yuli and Celia Basterra.
“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Celia asked when she saw Dusty.
“Thanks for the invitation, but we’d better get back to the Golden T.”
“Cold fried chicken and apple-walnut salad,” she said. “And freshly baked oatmeal-raisin cookies for dessert.”
“So that’s what smelled so good in there.” Dusty glanced toward Karen. If she was as hungry as he was …
“Thirty minutes is all it will take to eat.” Yuli slapped Dusty on the back. “Not worth riding home hungry to save thirty minutes. Celia’s fried chicken is the best, and her cookies have won awards at the fair.”
Smiling her reply, Karen nodded.
“Okay.” Dusty laughed. “Okay. Don’t torture us anymore.
We’ll stay.”
A dust cloud rose above the road from the highway, alerting Sophia that she was about to have company. A number of people from church had come calling this past week, most of them bringing food. She wondered what delectable dish they would be sampling for supper tonight.
But it was a stranger who disembarked from the long, black luxury car after it came to a halt in front of the house.
Don’t let Karen go, a small voice repeated in her heart.
A shiver ran through Sophia as the man walked toward the porch.
Thursday, May 8, 1941
Dear Diary,
It is true. Mikkel is working with the resistance. He does not know I have discovered the truth, and I am torn about what to do. I fear for him.
If the Germans were to discover it, what might they do to him?
Esther
Wednesday, June 18, 1941
Dear Diary,
I am pregnant. I can no longer doubt it. Tomorrow I will tell Mikkel. I am happy, and yet, I am afraid. Life here is tenuous. Is it right to bring a child into a world overrun with evil? Nutritious food is hard to come by. Everything is rationed due to the war.
And Mikkel takes so many risks. I know, even though he never tells me what he does. But I can see the truth in his eyes. He seldom sleeps.
When we were married four years ago this month, I thought we would live a quiet life, serving the people of this church in Copenhagen for a while, and then serving another in some small American town. I imagined us with a couple of children and a serene home life. I never suspected we would still be in Denmark four years later or that the world would be at war.
We do not know the future, do we, God? Only You know. But You are here with me. It is not Your desire for me to fear, for Your word says You have not given me a spirit of fear. Help me lean upon Your strength, no matter what the future holds. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Esther
P.S. I sometimes wonder if there is not more I could do to help. Surely it is God’s will to stop the killing of innocent people.
Sunday, November 9, 1941
Dear Diary,
Winter is hard upon us, and I am cold much of the time. I try not to complain, but it is hard not to sometimes.
We are hiding two telegraphists from the British Secret Intelligence Service in the church. They parachuted into Denmark and made their way to Copenhagen. Their equipment was smashed upon landing, and they needed the aid of a Danish radio engineer who is working with the local resistance.
Mikkel wants me to stop helping in the resistance efforts, especially now that I am so big with child. In truth, there is a part of me that wants to stop too. But as long as my husband is involved, as long as God is directing him to help end this war, how can I stay hidden in the house?
And there is something inside of me, a place in my heart, that keeps driving me to do what I can. Even when I am afraid, there is a stronger sense of peace. So I continue because God sustains me.
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell. Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident. One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple. For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion: in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me; he shall set me up upon a rock. And now shall mine head be lifted up above mine enemies round about me: therefore will I offer in his tabernacle sacrifices of joy; I will sing, yea, I will sing praises unto the LORD. (Psalm 27:1—6)
Esther
TWENTY-FIVE
Celia Basterra’s cooking was everything Yuli had promised and then some. Karen hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she started to dish up a second helping of crisp apple salad with marshmallows, walnuts, and some sort of sweet, creamy dressing.
“You’ll have to give me the recipe for this salad,” she told Celia.
“Oh, it’s easy. I won’t even have to write it down.”
Karen released a self-deprecating laugh. “Trust me. You’ll need to write it down. And include all the details. I’m a dreadful cook.”
“Don’t believe her,” Dusty said to their hostess. “Karen may be a novice in the kitchen, but she’s not dreadful. In fact, I think I’ve gained a few pounds since she came to the ranch.”
The praise fell over Karen like a warm down comforter on a cold winter’s night.
“I’d be happy to write it down,” Celia said. “Just give me a minute or two.” She rose from her chair and walked to an antique buffet on the far side of the large kitchen. Once there, she opened the lower right cabinet door and withdrew a recipe card from a box.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it, hon.” Yuli crossed to the wall phone. “Hello?” After a moment’s pause, he said, “Just a minute.” He held out the phone. “Dusty, it’s Miss Sophie.”
Karen exchanged a quick glance with him before he went to take the phone from Yuli.
“Sophia? What is it?” He listened. Then his gaze darted back to Karen. “We’re on our way.”
She stood. The instant he said good-bye and hung up, she asked, “Is something wrong with Grandmother?”
“No.” He shrugged. “We’ve got an unexpected guest at the ranch. That’s all. But she wants us to hurry back.”
His effort to look and sound nonchalant didn’t fool her. She knew it was something more than what he was telling her. But she decided not to press for information. She would have her answers soon enough.
They thanked the Basterras for the delicious meal, then left the house. Minutes later, they were mounted on their horses and riding away from the farm. They followed the same trail as that morning, but they kept a faster pace on the return trip.
Dusty’s haste wasn’t lost on Karen. Admit it or not, he wasn’t happy about the unnamed guest who was waiting at the Golden T.
Sophia prayed silently and fervently as she watched Mac Gleason stroll around the barnyard. He looked at the outbuildings, corrals, and livestock as if he were actually interested in them. She knew better. This was a man in a hurry, eager to finish his business and be on his way.
Lord, I don’t know what he wants here, but I pray your protection over all of us. Especially Karen, Father. She’s so close to finding Your truth. So close. Prepare her heart. Open her eyes and her ears.
She remembered her dream of that morning.
Esther told me not to let Karen go. Lord, I don’t know if that dream was merely a product of my own imagination or if it was Your way of speaking to me in advance. Whatever it was, I ask You to keep Karen here if that’s what’s best for her. Only You know what’s best, but for myself, I want to keep her here. I love her. She is so dear to me, a treasure in my old age.
She
remembered watching Dusty and Karen riding out this morning. They hadn’t known she was up and about, of course, but she’d seen them, and she’d been glad.
Jesus, those two young people love each other. I can’t help believing You brought them together for more than just one summer. Protect them, Lord. Protect them both. Help them to hear You.
“Miss Sophie?”
She opened her eyes. “Yes, Patty?”
“Is that man here to take Karen away?”
“I don’t know.” She took the girl’s hand between both of hers. “He didn’t tell me why he’d come. Only that he needs to see Karen.” “I don’t like him.”
Sophia shook her head. “Don’t be quick to make judgments, my dear.” Sound advice, even though she didn’t want to follow it herself. Everything inside her wanted to dislike the stranger too. She feared his presence at the Golden T would spell trouble and heartache for them all.
Take this fear from me, Father. I know it isn’t of You.
Dusty’s mood grew darker the closer they got to the ranch. He tried to pray, but he couldn’t. Maybe that was because he didn’t want to ask for the Lord’s will to be done. He wanted Karen to stay. He wanted Karen to marry him.
He’d never asked for much, but this he wanted. Wanted it with all his heart.
He didn’t have to meet Mac Gleason to know that her friend, as she’d described him in the past, had come to take her back to California. What Dusty didn’t know was, would she go?
Karen squinted her eyes against the bright September sunlight as the horses trotted the last quarter mile. She could see the ranch house, and she could see the black automobile parked near the porch. It looked like a new-model Town Car. Not many of those driving around Owyhee County.
She glanced toward Dusty. They’d spoken nary a word for miles, and his forbidding expression didn’t encourage her to try again.
She looked forward, this time noticing a man in a suit stepping off the porch. There was something familiar about—
“Mac?” she whispered. Then she grinned. “Mac!” She nudged the paint into a canter.
The minute she reached the barnyard, she drew her horse to a halt and slipped from the saddle. A few quick strides carried her to him and straight into his bear-hugging embrace.
“Oh, Mac, it’s good to see you.”
“I’d say the same, except I haven’t got much of a look at you yet.”
She stepped back and waited while he gave her a thorough perusal.
After a long while, he said, “You look more than good, Karen. You look happy.”
“I am happy.”
“Good.” Mac looked behind her.
She turned to see Dusty dismounting. She walked over to him, took hold of his hand, then drew him back to where Mac was waiting. “Dusty, I want you to meet Mac Gleason, a dear and trusted friend. He was my father’s attorney.”
The two men shook hands.
“What brings you to Idaho?” Dusty asked, his voice a bit gruff. No. It was almost unfriendly.
That wasn’t like him, Karen thought as she watched the two men.
They were each sizing up the other with wary gazes. She half expected them to start circling and growling like a couple of dogs fighting over a bone.
And I’m the bone! She nearly laughed aloud at the surprising insight.
She slipped her arm through Mac’s and drew him toward the house. “Come onto the porch and sit down. I’m going to freshen up. We’ve been herding cattle, and I’m covered with dust from the trail.”
“Herding cattle?” Mac chuckled.
She elbowed him. “Don’t say it.” She returned his grin. “Don’t you dare say it.”
Karen thought Dusty might follow her into the house, but he didn’t. She paused in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder. He was sitting on the porch rail, watching their guest with obvious displeasure.
She decided she’d better hurry.
Mac Gleason was old enough to be Karen’s father. Pushing sixty, judging by the gray in his hair and his time-weathered face. Handsome. Distinguished looking in a suit that probably cost enough to support the youth camp for a full summer session. Or longer.
A dear and trusted friend, Karen had called him. Her father’s attorney.
What was the honorable Mr. Gleason doing at the Golden T? Dusty had felt twinges of jealousy over this man before. He remembered when Mac had called Karen a couple of months ago. He’d feared then that they were or had been involved. He didn’t think so anymore. Not after seeing them together. Yet he wasn’t comforted. Mac Gleason had come to Idaho for a reason, and Dusty suspected the reason wasn’t going to make him happy.
“Much better,” Karen called as she came through the doorway.
Her gaze met Dusty’s.
I should’ve told her I love her. I should’ve done it before now.
She glanced toward Mac. “I still can’t believe you’re here,” she said to him. “Did you look around the place while you were waiting?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad you didn’t come this summer while the boys were here.” She sat on the chair next to Mac. “Dusty runs a youth camp in the summer months. The boys live in the bunkhouse and learn to ride and rope and all sorts of things.”
Mac looked at Dusty. “Really? Sounds interesting. You’ll have to tell me more about it.”
“Another time maybe,” Dusty replied. “For now, why don’t you tell us why you’re here? It must be important for you to come all this way.”
“Yes. It is important.” Mac returned his gaze to Karen. “I’ve brought good news.”
“Good news?” she echoed, sounding curious. Nothing more.
“Something’s come to light, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. Too good for that. It seems your father didn’t leave you totally impoverished.”
“What are you talking about, Mac?”
“There’s money in an account we only recently discovered. Money the IRS can’t attach. It’s complicated to explain, but the bottom line is, it’s yours, Karen.”
“What’s mine?”
“Over three hundred thousand dollars.”
“Three hundred …” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She looked at Dusty. “Three hundred thousand dollars?”
“Yes,” Mac answered. “But I need you in California. This could take months to untangle.”
Dusty pushed off the porch railing. “This sounds like something the two of you should talk over alone.” He turned toward the steps. “I’ll take care of the horses.”
Then he strode away before anyone could see that his heart had just broken in two.
Thursday, December 11, 1941
Dear Diary,
It was reported on the BBC’s Danish news bulletin that, in support of their Japanese ally, Germany and Italy have declared war upon America. Mikkel says it is all the more important our foreign identity be concealed. We have carried forged papers almost since the war began, but I wonder how long it will be before the German Gestapo finds us out.
My God reigns, and the joy of the Lord is my strength. God cannot fail, nor is He discouraged, He will keep me in perfect peace because I trust in Him.
Esther
Friday, January 2, 1942
Dear Diary,
I spent the day in the nursery. Mikkel was away again. He does not tell me where he goes or what he does. He says it is better I not know. My darling Mikkel seeks to protect me.
I grow eager for the birth of this baby. When my fear of the future threatens to overwhelm me, I remember the promise God gave me about my descendants. Faith is believing things not seen, not in believing those things that can be seen. And so by faith, I trust God will do all He has said He will do.
I made a rag doll for the baby. I remember many years ago when Sophia taught me how to make my first rag doll. I was six or seven at the time. We sat at the kitchen table. It was winter, as it is now, and there was snow on the ground. The wind blew around the corners of the house and whis
tled beneath the eaves, rattling the windowpanes. But Mama had a fire burning bright in the stove, and the kitchen was toasty warm.
Sophia was so very patient as she taught me what she knew. It was a wonderful day. I wish I had brought that doll with me from America instead of leaving it packed in a trunk in Papa’s attic.
Does Sophia still have her doll? Does she ever look at it and remember me fondly?
I wish my sister could be with me when I give birth. I miss her in countless ways. I long to know if she has found contentment, if she has forgiven me, both for the wrongs she thinks I did her and for the wrongs I am guilty of.
Perhaps she is married. Perhaps she has a child or children of her own. It has been nearly three years since I have had a letter from home. It is terrible not to know how they fare in these troubled times.
O God in heaven, let Sophia know how much I love her, have always loved her.
Esher
TWENTY-SIX
Sophia awakened before dawn. She didn’t rise to turn up the heat, even though the air in her bedroom was cold. To do so would risk waking Karen, who slept on the cot in the parlor. Instead, she remained in bed, her comforter tucked around her for warmth.
Father, I don’t want Karen to leave us. Dusty doesn’t want her to leave us. How do we stop her? Or should we try to stop her? Maybe she’s meant to leave us. Was my dream of Esther from You? Was it a warning or merely my imagination? I don’t know. I don’t know what to do or what to say. Help me, Lord.
She opened her Bible, but the words seemed to float before her eyes, a jumble of letters that made no sense.
“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace,” she quoted from memory, the words as familiar to her as her own name, “whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee.”
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