Road To Forgiveness

by Cox, Carol

  And there was always the chance he might see Hallie again—without having to sneak out to the wash this time.

  ❧

  The clang of a hammer on an anvil echoed throughout the yard when Jacob rode up. He spotted Burke shoeing a horse in the shade of the barn. The door of the house flew open at his approach, and Hallie trotted down the steps to greet him with a bright smile.

  Burke started in their direction, still carrying the heavy hammer. Hallie pulled up and halted a few yards from Jacob. She settled a more demure expression on her face, but the light in her eyes didn’t dim. Jacob felt his heart do flip-flops.

  “Something you wanted to see me about?” Burke’s lowered brows formed a hard, straight line over the bridge of his nose.

  Jacob gave Hallie a quick smile and turned to Burke. “I wanted to let you know I’ve come up with some new information. There’s a good chance I may be on their track at last.”

  The lines in Burke’s face softened. “What have you found out?”

  Jacob hesitated. Given Burke’s hotheaded nature and tendency to shoot his mouth, did he want to trust him with the only decent lead that had come his way?

  “I can’t tell you anything definite right now,” he hedged. “But I do have something pretty solid to go on this time.” The answer sounded like a poor excuse, even to his ears.

  Burke grunted and turned back toward the barn. “I’ve got to get back to that shoe while it’s still hot. Not all of us can go lollygagging around, pretending we’re working.”

  This isn’t going well at all. If he ever wanted to make a connection with this man, he needed to start now. Jacob hesitated and glanced back and forth between Burke and Hallie. Tempting as it would be to stand visiting with Hallie, the better choice would be to start mending fences. He turned and followed Burke.

  Hallie threw him a quizzical glance, then trailed after both of them. She dragged an empty crate over to the shade and sat on it not far from where her father worked.

  Burke grabbed the red-hot horseshoe from the fire with a pair of tongs and held it on the anvil. He gave it a few more taps with the hammer, then held it up to check it against the old shoe.

  After a minor adjustment or two, he dropped the shoe into a nearby bucket of water. Steam rose with a loud hiss. Burke slipped the tongs into a loop on the side of the anvil stand, then turned to Jacob and planted his meaty fists on his hips. “You got something else on your mind?”

  “Not really.” This was really a stupid idea. “I just thought we could visit a bit.”

  Burke snorted, then retrieved the tongs and fished in the bucket for the horseshoe. Water dripped off it to the ground, but no steam. Burke carried it to the tethered horse, where he checked the fit against the mare’s hoof.

  Still bent over beside the mare, he called over his shoulder, “So did you have anything to say, or were you just wanting to learn the right way to shoe a horse?”

  Jacob felt his face grow warm. He’d come up with the bright idea of suggesting a visit; now he floundered for some topic of conversation. He glanced at Hallie, hoping for inspiration.

  She shrugged, but gave him an encouraging nod and made hand gestures for him to continue.

  “I guess you’ve heard the news about Cuba?” He flinched as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course Burke had heard the news. It was the topic on everyone’s lips.

  Burke picked up a rasp and leveled off the bottom of the horse’s hoof. “Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to it. I have enough problems of my own.”

  Jacob perked up. Finally, something he could sound knowledgeable about. “It looks like war is on the horizon. Mayor O’Neill is recruiting troops for a special Arizona regiment. I plan to sign up as soon as he’s ready to accept volunteers.”

  Burke dropped the rasp and straightened slowly, his face growing redder by the second. He leveled a beefy forefinger at Jacob’s chest and advanced toward him. “You mean to tell me you plan to take off and just leave this job hanging? Let me get this straight. You can tell me every last detail about what’s going on, on some island nobody cares about, but you don’t know the first thing about what’s happening closer to home?”

  He stepped nearer, so close that Jacob could smell the coal smoke that clung to him. “I want you to understand something, and understand it right now: I don’t care about a bunch of foreign rebels three thousand miles away. I care about my cows!” A fresh wave of red crept up his face. “You don’t seem to want to do your work, and I can’t get mine done with you standing there jawing at me.” He threw down the rasp and strode toward the house. “The mare can wait. I’ll finish the job later.”

  Jacob stared after him, unable to look at Hallie. “I did a fine job of botching that, didn’t I?”

  Only silence met his question. He forced himself to meet her gaze.

  She stared back at him, her face pale. “You’re really planning to leave? Just like that?”

  I’m doing a great job of breaking this news. “Riding gives a man plenty of time to think, and I’ve been doing a lot of that. We Americans have been blessed by God with the freedoms we have. It only seems right to help others who want to gain that same freedom. Don’t you agree?”

  Hallie looked down for a moment, then raised her head. Tears shimmered along her lower lashes. “In principle, yes. But I’m finding it’s easy to agree with a principle when it doesn’t cost you anything.”

  Jacob took her hands and drew her to her feet. Could her words mean what he hoped they did? She stared up at him, her eyes luminous pools of confusion. He pressed her hands against his chest. “This isn’t a decision I’ve made lightly. I know we’ve barely had time to get to know each other, but leaving you is one of the hardest choices I’ve ever had to face. God brought us together, and I want to find out what He has in store for us.”

  Hallie’s lips trembled. “I want that, too. But how is that going to happen if you go off to Cuba? You’re willing to give your life for people you don’t even know when there’s so much here to live for.”

  He stared at the softness of her lips, longing to taste their sweetness. “Sometimes a man has to be willing to make a sacrifice.”

  “But it isn’t just yours. You’re asking your family. . .and me. . .to make that sacrifice, too. You want us to lay our happiness on the line, and we don’t get to make that choice for ourselves.”

  Jacob lowered his head until he could feel the soft brush of her breath against his cheek. “Will you wait for me, Hallie? It shouldn’t take long.”

  She pulled back slightly and stared at him as if fixing that moment in her mind for all eternity. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you all my life. I’ll still be waiting when you come back.” Her voice quavered. “Just make sure you do come back.”

  Jacob pressed his lips against her eyelids, then crushed her against him in a tight embrace. “I’ll come back to you, Hallie. I promise.”

  He felt her arms slide around his shoulders, and she pressed her face into the hollow of his neck. “I’ll be praying,” she whispered.

  Fourteen

  The sun shone bright in a cloudless sky, and a light breeze filtered down through the cedars. A perfect spring afternoon, and all the more perfect because she could spend it outdoors. Hallie kicked Gypsy into a lope and reveled in the joy of being out on her own. She had plenty of time to herself at the house, but it wasn’t the same as being outside where she could look across the rolling hills.

  Somehow, prayer didn’t come as easily at home when she found chores waiting for her everywhere she turned. Prayer was what she needed just now, and lots of it. In the four days since Jacob told her of his intention to march off to Cuba, she’d needed nothing more than time like this to pour out the cry of her heart to the Almighty.

  “He’s the one I’ve prayed for all my life, Lord. Am I going to lose him before we ever get the chance to discover this love You’ve given us?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. Did I say “love”? “I do lov
e him,” she whispered. Then she threw her head back and said it right out loud. “I love Jacob Garrett!”

  Her joy dimmed when she thought of their last conversation. “Please, God, isn’t there any way You can keep him from going to war? I do want the Cuban people to have freedom. I think that’s what You want, too. But I don’t want to risk Jacob for them to have it.”

  She pulled Gypsy down to a walk and asked the question that had tormented her for the past four days: “Is it fair for me to ask You to keep him home when so many other women will be sending their loved ones off?”

  Desire for Jacob warred with the desire to honor her Lord. “But I don’t have any ‘right’ to him, do I? Jacob belongs to You and You alone.”

  A sigh of surrender escaped her. “All right. You win. I’ll try to accept Your will in this, whatever it may be. And I leave Jacob. . .and our love. . .in Your hands.”

  She swept her fingers across her cheeks to brush the tears away and tried to regain her joy in being out on her own. At one time, her afternoon rides had been her delight. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed the freedom to come up into the foothills alone like this?

  Since Pete Edwards started trying to push himself on me? The words flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning. She rolled her shoulders as if she could shrug off the sudden impulse to look behind her. Pete wasn’t anywhere around today. He and the other hands had been checking the grass at the south end of the range since Wednesday.

  What a contrast! On the one hand, there was Pete and his unwelcome overtures. On the other, Jacob, with his tender heart and caring ways. Two more opposite men would be hard to imagine.

  Hallie closed her eyes and breathed in the cedar-scented air. The first moment she laid eyes on Jacob, she sensed someone special had entered her life. I just didn’t dream how special. Please, God, don’t take him away just when I’ve found him.

  Gypsy slowed when she reached the bottom of the slope, as if waiting for direction. Hallie glanced over her shoulder at the house and barn in the distance and wondered whether she should turn back or proceed up through the trees.

  Her sense of adventure won out. She hadn’t been up in the hills in months. She nudged Gypsy into a trot and rode uphill.

  She smelled it before she saw it—the acrid stench of smoke. Hallie straightened in her saddle and peered around, probing the woods with her gaze. Where was it coming from? A brush fire could get out of hand more rapidly than anyone could imagine; the blackened area near the top of the hill attested to that. Hallie remembered watching from the safety of the ranch yard three years before, praying her father and the cowboys would get it under control before it could sweep across the plain, consuming everything in its path. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  She pushed deeper into the trees. Where is it? And could she put it out alone once she found it? Hallie’s stomach clenched, and a dozen thoughts spun through her mind. Her father was moving one of the bulls to a different section, two miles or more away. How long would it take to track him down and bring back help?

  Too long. She had no choice; she would have to take care of it alone.

  Hallie tilted her head back and scanned the sky. There. Not far ahead, a thin gray thread of smoke snaked up through the trees.

  She started to spur her horse forward, then frowned. That seemed an odd place for a fire to start. Could some drifter have gone off and left a campfire unattended?

  He’d have to be an idiot to do something like that, as dry as it gets around here. But not everyone understood the possibilities of wildfire—or cared. However the fire started, Hallie had to check it out. She guided Gypsy uphill, weaving her way through the cedars.

  The thick trees opened up onto a flat grassy area. Hallie heard a calf bawl somewhere ahead of her. Then she spotted it: slate-colored smoke seeming to rise from the ground. She looked again and realized it was coming up over the edge of a small canyon.

  Prickles of unease danced along her arms. She could think of only one reason a fire and bellowing cows would go together: branding. But all their cowboys were busy on the south range.

  Fear squeezed her throat. She slid off Gypsy and dropped the reins to the ground. “Wait here,” she whispered, sliding her hand along the mare’s glossy neck.

  Hallie crouched and crept across the ground, careful not to make a sound that would give away her presence. Ten feet from the lip of the canyon, she dropped down and covered the rest of the distance on all fours.

  She approached the edge gingerly. Even before she reached it, the telltale smell of singed hair assailed her nostrils, and she knew her suspicions had been correct. Someone was branding cows in the canyon, and none of the Broken Box hands were in the area. It could mean only one thing: She had found the rustlers.

  Now what? It would be absurd to even contemplate trying to capture them on her own. But she had to do something. What? She flattened out, pressing her chest against the dirt, and inched nearer to the edge. If she could actually witness them at work, get descriptions of them or their horses, she could pass that information to Jacob. Finally, he would have something solid to work with. Elated at the thought, she raised her head high enough to peer over the dirt ledge.

  A hiss of disappointment escaped her lips. A clump of cedars grew along the bottom of the shallow canyon. Their tops rose up directly in front of her, blocking her view. She would have to find a better vantage point. Drawing back slightly, Hallie pushed herself along a course parallel to the canyon rim.

  Muffled voices floated upward. “Two more to go, then we’ll run these on back with the others.”

  Hallie’s stomach knotted. If she didn’t hurry, they would leave before she could get a look at them.

  A small clump of sagebrush stood near her. She reached out to grasp a branch and pulled herself up to the rim. The trees thinned out at that point. If she pushed herself forward just a bit, she ought to have an unobstructed view.

  She inched forward. The ground crumbled away under her hands, sending a thin stream of dirt trickling down the twenty feet to the canyon floor below. Hallie scrambled back, heart pounding at her near escape. She pressed her knee into the dirt for better purchase and felt the ground beneath her shift, then give way.

  Hallie clawed at the dirt frantically, desperate to find a handhold. Her fingers grasped the branch and she hung on. The stout bush held firm for a few moments, then she watched as the roots pulled free of the soil.

  She slithered down the slope, her fingers digging into the loose soil. Jesus, help me! It took all her willpower not to scream the prayer aloud. Maybe by some miracle the rustlers wouldn’t hear her bumpy descent.

  Her body slammed against a rock, knocking the wind out of her and loosening her tenuous hold on the canyon wall. With nothing to slow her fall, she began to roll downhill with increasing speed. Branches tore at her clothing as she crashed through a tangle of bushes and landed in a heap on the canyon floor.

  They know I’m here. No one could have missed the racket she had made on the way down. Hallie lay as she had landed, face down, hardly daring to breathe.

  Heavy footsteps pounded across the dirt. Hallie lay motionless and prayed for God to intervene.

  She glimpsed two pairs of denim-clad legs approaching. Please, Lord, don’t let them see me. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  Fifteen

  “Well, what do we have here?” A harsh voice spoke from a point in front of her, dashing her hopes.

  “Looks like we’ve got us a visitor.” The second speaker drew nearer, and his voice tightened. “Ain’t that the Evans girl? What’s she doing out this way?”

  Hallie heard other footsteps behind her. A hand gripped the back of her head and shoved her face into the dirt. “Get a rope.” She could barely make out the deep, gravelly voice over the thrum of blood pounding in her ears. “We’ll hogtie her now and take care of her when we’re finished here.”

  No! Hallie brought her hands up under her shoulders and pushed against the grou
nd with all her might, but she couldn’t raise herself an inch.

  Her captor chuckled. “Won’t do you a bit of good,” he rasped. “Me and the boys are used to tying calves all day long, and calves are a lot bigger and stronger than a little thing like you.”

  As if to prove his point, the cowboy’s rough hands seized her wrists from behind and bound them together with a few quick twists of rope. Hallie kicked and struggled, but she was no match for the men. She gasped for air and drew in a lungful of dust. She flailed wildly with her feet and felt her boot connect with something solid.

  One of the men cursed. “That’s enough. We’ll see how much you can kick when I get through with you.”

  Hallie felt her ankles gripped and lashed together. Then her feet were yanked up toward her back and bound to the rope holding her wrists.

  “There. That ought to take care of her.”

  “Just a minute.” The deep-voiced man kept his hold on the back of her head. “It won’t do a bit of good to tie her if she can still get a look at us.” He pressed his knee into the middle of her back, holding her immobile while he wound a kerchief around her head and pulled it tight over her eyes.

  “That’s better.” He stood, releasing the pressure on her back. “Let’s get back to work.”

  Hallie rolled onto her side, spitting gobs of dust out of her mouth, fighting for air.

  “Did you hear me?” the rough voice growled. “Get back to work!”

  “Wait a minute.” It was the first voice she had heard, now thin and tense. “What are we going to do with her?”

  “We’re going to finish what we’ve started, then you boys can get out of here. I’ll see about letting her go. . .if she promises to behave herself.”

  The footsteps moved away, and Hallie heard a new set of noises: scuffles and thumps, the sound of something heavy being dragged across the earth, the sizzle of burned flesh, then a plaintive bawl.