Margaret stared at the tumbling water striking the pool at the base and kicking up a delicious-looking froth. If only they’d had this abundance of water to put out the fire. But no, lack of water hadn’t been the problem; rather, the heat and flames were what had destroyed the pumps, making the hoses useless. “Have you heard anything more?” She turned toward Clara.
“Just that a few people got trapped in Palmer and had to stay almost submerged in the millpond while the fire passed over. Thank God the pond was there, or they’d never have made it.”
Margaret nodded. “I heard about that, but not much about the surrounding farms, other than the Trickey family. It’s a miracle no lives were lost.”
“You didn’t hear about the Hamilton boys?”
“Cecil and Gerald?” Margaret sat forward, her heart pounding faster. The brothers were about ten and twelve years old. “What about them?”
Clara laid a gentle hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. I assumed you’d heard. They—they perished in the fire.”
Margaret gasped and leaned back hard against the rock, not caring about the small protrusion that poked her shoulder. “What happened?”
Clara took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Their father woke them and told them to dress quickly and get out of the house. He sent the boys on ahead while he got the baby. Apparently Cecil and Gerald hadn’t put on their shoes before leaving, and the burning embers were singeing their feet. They scooted into a nearby shed and sat to put their shoes on.” She stopped, and a sob rose in her throat.
Margaret gripped Clara’s hand, not wanting to hear the rest of the tale but knowing she must. “Go on.”
The blood had drained from Clara’s face, and her voice shook. “A burning tree fell across the opening of the shed and shut them in. Their father”—she covered her face with her hands—“wasn’t able to get them out.”
“How awful.” Margaret tried to shut out the image the words had painted. How could the parents survive the grief and loss of their boys? The fire was mostly out now, but how many other lives would they discover had been lost? Her mind flew to Andrew and Nathaniel, and she wrapped her arms around herself and rocked with the pain. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing either one of them, but especially—
Clara gripped her arm. “We should pray for the others who haven’t returned.”
“Yes.” The two women bowed their heads, and Clara offered a simple but heartfelt petition for the safety of those remaining on the mountain. She raised her head and looked into Margaret’s eyes. “I know they’ll come back. Somehow, I just know it.”
“I’ve had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach all day and can’t seem to shake it—it’s felt like a premonition of sorts.” Margaret shook her head. “And now with the news of the Hamilton boys—”
“I know. The waiting is hard.” Clara offered a sympathetic smile. “But we’ve got to trust the Lord, Margaret.”
“I’ve done that so many times in the past, and I keep getting disappointed,” Margaret said, hating the tone—the near whine—of her voice and knowing she had no right to complain after the tremendous losses of the families around her. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”
“No, it’s all right to say how you feel. But you’ve got to realize that God doesn’t always give us what we want. Sometimes He says no, and sometimes He makes us wait, but we still need to trust Him.”
Margaret shifted her position against the rock, then leaned forward and pushed to her feet. “Come on; let’s walk back to the store. I can’t sit here any longer.” She offered her hand to Clara and helped her to her feet. “I know you’re right. I’m beginning to see God’s hand in all of this, clear back to the time Papa hid the box with my note to Nathaniel, and even him asking Andrew to look out for me.”
Clara tucked her hand into Margaret’s arm and they began to meander down the path. “How do you mean?”
Margaret drew in a deep breath, thankful most of the smoke had cleared from the air and she could breathe without choking. Birds sang in nearby trees, and no breeze stirred the leaves of the willow trees as they passed by. The men attributed Bridal Veil being spared to the wind dying down when the sun rose the morning after the fire started.
“I’m beginning to wonder if the Lord used Papa as an instrument of His will for my life. I haven’t worked it all out in my heart yet, but I think I’m getting there.” She squeezed Clara’s hand. “When I do, I’ll explain it to you, I promise. Right now I’d best get back. Mr. Gibbs has been kind to allow Sammie and Joel to stay so long, but I’m sure they’re hungry. I’m meeting them at the store soon.”
A piercing train whistle heralded the arrival of a locomotive pulling a number of freight cars. The girls covered their ears and hurried the final hundred yards to the store. The train slowed near the depot manned by a Bridal Veil Lumbering Company employee.
“Miss Margaret!” Joel’s voice, wavering between the high-pitched tone of a boy and the deeper timbre of a man, met her ears and caused her to smile. “Sammie and I got a peppermint stick!” The boy stood on the porch, waving a red-and-white-striped candy in the air, then plopped it back into his mouth.
Margaret smiled at the boy. “That was very nice of Mr. Art.”
Joel shook his head. “Nope. Not Mr. Art. Mr. Cowling gave me and Sammie one. He said we’re both well behaved and he’s plumb happy to have us visit his store.” The boy patted himself on the chest. “I’m well behaved, just like he said.”
Sammie came up beside him and patted his shoulder. “You sure are, Joel, and you thanked Mr. Cowling right and proper. I’m proud of you.”
Just then the smile on Joel’s face drooped and fear replaced the smile. He lifted his hand and pointed toward the train depot and the dust-covered man who’d stepped off the train. “I’m scared, Sammie. What’s Mr. Wallace doing in Bridal Veil?”
Chapter Forty-one
Margaret stared for one long moment at the man in the distance sauntering away from the train depot, then scurried up the stairs toward the children. “Get back in the store. Quickly now.”
Sammie didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Joel’s arm and dragged him across the threshold, closing the door behind them. Margaret stood on the covered porch, unsure what to do. It was obvious from Sammie’s pale face that this Mr. Wallace was someone she feared.
A shout penetrated her thoughts, and she raised her chin. Was that Andrew’s voice? She looked wildly around. A small group of men—stooped over, dirty, and walking slowly—had just emerged from one of the freight cars.
Andrew raised his hand and started to move toward her. “Margaret!”
Nathaniel stood nearby with a woman who was holding a small child, along with two other children and a couple of men, both strangers to her. Nathaniel’s head turned, and his face broke into a smile. He too stepped away from the group and headed her way.
Margaret picked up her skirts and flew toward them. They were safe! God had answered her prayers. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and warm drops cascaded down her cheeks. A happy laugh burbled out, and she nearly danced the remaining distance. “Andrew! Thank God you’re alive!”
He opened his arms and stopped, allowing her to run the last several paces and throw herself into his embrace. Dust flew as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her wet face on his shoulder.
“It’s so good to see you,” his husky voice whispered in her ear.
The smell of smoke and dirt clung to his hair and clothing, but it conveyed life and restoration to Margaret. She’d never smell smoke again without remembering this day. She raised her face and took a half step back but still kept her hands on his forearms. “Are you all right?” Margaret appraised him from head to foot, worry tugging at her heart.
“I’m fine. Hungry, tired, filthy, but not hurt.” A dimple showed at the corner of his mouth as he turned a radiant smile on her. He beckoned toward the small group standing nearby. “We came through it together. I’ll tell you about it later, but I th
ink I need to get home and wash up before I do anything else.”
She continued to clutch his arm, loath to let him go, even though she knew he must be tired and longing for a bath.
Then, suddenly, Nathaniel cleared his throat, and Margaret swung toward him, horrified that she’d nearly forgotten his presence. “Nathaniel.” She took a step toward him and held out her hand. “I’m so happy you’re all right, as well.”
He didn’t raise his hand but met her eyes squarely. “Thank you. I see you’ve made your decision.” It wasn’t a question but a flat statement, as his eyes took in the two of them. He swung around and headed for his house.
Margaret felt a wave of heat rush to her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes. Nothing about this meeting had been planned. She’d not even been completely sure of her own heart until she’d heard Andrew’s voice and seen his face. She turned toward Andrew and squeezed his arm. “I’ll be right back.” She picked up the hem of her skirt and dashed down the path. “Nathaniel?”
He slowed his pace and turned to look over his shoulder. “Margaret.” He swung to face her and crossed his arms over his chest but remained silent.
“I’m sorry, Nathaniel. I didn’t plan for things to happen this way.”
“I asked you to give me a chance, and I thought you’d at least do that much.”
She shook her head, and a deep sadness welled up inside. They’d shared something in the past, but the feelings she thought she remembered hadn’t returned. “So much has happened the past few days. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you again, but I’ve been thinking about what you asked. It’s been too many years, and we’ve both—changed.”
He shook his head. “No. You’ve just grown up.” A smile flitted across his face, then disappeared. “Browning is a good man. I learned that this past couple of days. I’m sorry you and I won’t share a future, but I’m happy for you.” Sadness lingered in the corners of his mouth. “I don’t share your faith, Margaret, although I have to admit this fire has come close to making a believer out of me—but Browning does, and I know that’s important to you. I’m going to get cleaned up.”
Margaret touched his hand. “Thank you. I pray that someday you’ll go beyond coming close to believing, Nathaniel. God is real, and if it weren’t for Him, none of us might be standing here today.”
Nathaniel gave a quick shrug. “Maybe. It’s something I’ll think on.” He lifted his hand in a salute and turned away.
Margaret’s heart twisted with sympathy for Nathaniel and what might have been, but she’d made the right choice. Andrew was all she’d ever wanted or needed in a man—loving, thoughtful, hard-working, and above all else, he loved the Lord with all of his heart. Of course, they’d only started seeing each other not long before Nathaniel came to town, so nothing was settled. But she knew Andrew cared for her. At this point, that was all that mattered, and God would take care of the rest. She turned and walked back toward the area where Andrew waited in front of the store.
“Everything all right?” Andrew held out his hand, his brows raised.
She nodded and returned his smile, then realization hit her. She gripped Andrew’s arm and looked toward the man who stood talking to a mill worker not far from the Company store. “Andrew, I need your help.”
He turned, and his eyes lit with warm caring. “Can it wait until after I get cleaned up?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. You see that man?” She nodded toward the man Joel had called Mr. Wallace. “He means trouble for Sammie and Joel. He came on the train at the same time that you did, and the children recognized him. I sent them back into the store, but I can’t get them to my house without their being seen.”
Andrew took a long look at the man and straightened his drooping shoulders. “You stay here. I’ll see what he’s up to.” He gave her hand a squeeze and strode toward the man.
Margaret watched, her heart beating double-time, wishing she could hear their conversation. She walked closer to the store and stole a look at the window. Sammie’s face peeked out from the lowest pane of glass. Margaret caught her eye and shook her head, and the girl immediately disappeared. Good. No sense taking chances. She’d prayed for the children’s safety and future, but she hadn’t planned on having to deal with someone from their past showing up—especially not someone they feared.
A dim shadow passed over her spirit as doubts started to flood in once again. Why was it so hard to lay everything at God’s feet and leave it there? She wanted to trust Him, but it seemed as though her world kept turning upside down. Please, God, keep Sammie and Joel out of this man’s clutches and bring good into their lives. Forgive me for allowing my heart to race toward fear with each new problem. I keep stumbling and doubting whenever hard things come, and I want to walk in faith.
Andrew walked toward her with the rumpled man in tow, his gray felt hat dusty and black pants wrinkled from too much sitting. “Margaret, this is Wallace Stedman.”
They stopped, and the stranger tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”
She nodded but didn’t trust herself to speak. Something about this man gave her the shivers, and she instantly empathized with Sammie’s fear.
“Mr. Stedman is looking for two children whom he claims ran away from his mother’s care. He believes he’s tracked them from Salem to Bridal Veil.”
Margaret crossed her arms. “What are the children’s names, Mr. Stedman, and how old are they?”
Wallace Stedman cleared his throat, then covered his mouth and coughed. “I say, you got a saloon in these parts, or someplace a man can get a pint of whiskey? It was a long, dry trip riding that wagon to Portland, and they didn’t serve nothing on the train.”
Andrew raised his brows. “No, we don’t. Bridal Veil is a company-owned town and doesn’t care to have their men liquored up. A sawmill is a dangerous place to work if you aren’t sober.”
Wallace wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyone you know have something to drink they might part with, then?” His voice took on a whining tone and dropped to a lower pitch. “I can pay.”
“I’m sorry, no. I’m sure Mr. Cowling would offer you a cup of coffee or cold water at the store,” Andrew said.
Margaret bit her lip to keep from crying out. Andrew had forgotten the children were hiding in the store. What if this odious man entered and found them there? It was all she could do not to dash inside and push them out a back window to escape.
“Naw. Guess I’ll make it.” He turned toward Margaret and pasted on an ingratiating smile. “You asked about them kids. Names are Sammie and Joel, but I don’t know how old they are. The boy’s big and the girl’s a skinny little thing, but real cute—know what I mean?” He turned leering eyes toward Andrew and smacked his lips.
“No, I don’t.” Andrew took a step closer to the man and glowered. “Nor do I think that’s an appropriate thing for a man to comment on.”
Wallace took a half step back and winced. “Didn’t mean nothing by it, just talking, that’s all. So you seen ’em around here?”
Andrew looked at Margaret but didn’t reply. She gave a tiny shake of her head and tried with all her might to send him a warning.
Stedman narrowed his eyes. “I already contacted the sheriff over to Troutdale, and he tole me them two kids are in town. I’m here to take ’em back to my ma, so you’d best be leading me to them, if you don’t want to answer to the sheriff.”
Margaret stifled a low groan. The sheriff was involved? But why would he allow this man to take them, when he was still investigating Martin Jenkins’ death? She didn’t believe it. “What’s the sheriff’s name, Mr. Stedman?”
A brief confusion flashed across Wallace’s face, then he folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t matter what his name is. Those kids belong to my ma, and I aim to take them back with me, sheriff or no.”
Andrew drew a step closer and stared into the man’s eyes. “I don’t think so, Mr. Stedman. You won’t be taking those children anywhere. You don’t hav
e a legal claim on them, and we don’t know that your mother does. She’ll have to come to Bridal Veil and bring papers proving she’s their guardian, or they won’t be leaving.” He leaned to within a foot of the man’s face. “You understand what I’m saying?”
Wallace scurried backward. “Ma’s not going to like it, no sir. She tole me to bring those kids home, and she’ll be plumb mad if she has to tote ’em back herself.”
“That’s her problem, not ours. You tell your mother to do her own dirty work and bring proof she has the right to those children, or she’ll be wasting a trip.” Andrew pointed at the train sitting a hundred yards down the siding. “I suggest you climb back on that train and return to wherever you came from, before you get stuck here with nothing to drink.”
Wallace glared at Andrew, then glanced at the train. He jerked on the hem of his dusty jacket and swiveled on his heel. “Fine.” He shot the word back over his shoulder. “But Ma will be coming with those papers, and the lot of you will be sorry you didn’t make it easy on yourselves this time around.”
Chapter Forty-two
Margaret clutched Andrew’s arm as her legs nearly gave out beneath her. “What do we do now?” Her mind raced, trying to take in all that had just happened. Mrs. Stedman would be returning to claim the children and take them away. If her son was any indication, she was no fit guardian for Samantha and Joel.
Andrew bent his head down and smiled into her eyes. “She may not even return after her son tells her what happened. It’s not cheap to travel this far, and I’m guessing they aren’t people of means.”
“But if she does?”
He shook his head. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. Sheriff Bryant will be back in town soon, and he may not allow Joel to leave. He’s still hoping the boy will remember where he left Martin’s journal.”
Love Finds You in Bridal Veil, Oregon Page 25