by Tanya Hanson
“Let’s do it.” He tightened his grip.
Fresh air. With him. Nothing had ever sounded better.
****
As they strolled from the campsite, Dutton held Chelsea’s hand like a precious treasure. The wagons had formed the traditional circle, but tents sprouted here and there, every which way inside the circle and out. Wisps from the campfire drifted through the tall evergreen trees and slender aspen that stood guard.
At least the old easiness between them hadn’t come back. They didn’t say much, and the silence wasn’t uncomfortable at all.
The sun slid behind a silver steeple of mountaintop, its last rays shuddered into shadows. For a second, Dutton felt like he and Chelsea were the only two people in the world. Even with the shouts of excited kids going on around them, and the deep laughter from happy parents having a good time in the background.
On the wind came sounds and smells of horses. Chelsea leaned against him, not quite the old days but enough to remind him she’d promised him three days. He could only hope for more. Hope for forever. Then a buzz vibrated against his thigh. Blast that new cell tower. His smart phone had survived its fall.
“I heard that.” Chelsea pursed her lips in fake disgust. “If you gotta check your phone, well, mea culpa.”
“Mia who?” He teased but relief tickled, rather than guilt weighing down. He checked the long text while Chelsea circumspectly waited under a tree.
Gramps. Call me, he’d written. Dutton harrumphed, not wanting to. Still, he was impressed that someone seventy-five years old hadn’t wasted any time learning new technology. The message wasn’t good, though. Lost two more rulings about spill damages. Judge stated our insurance insufficient against oil pollution risks. Get Colorado assessed and step up horizontal drilling, kiddo.
Dutton’s spirits ground themselves up inside his belly. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon. Make that…whatever Dutton decided was going to happen would happen much sooner than he’d intended. If Chelsea already worried about a cell tower’s harm to milk cows and wild animals, if she cautioned him only to do good with his woodlands, she’d never understand why he sought to spoil the Colorado landscape with derricks.
But Gramps was broke. He was barely hanging on to his home. This might be his last chance.
“Or my only chance,” Dutton muttered as his nod to her nudged her back to his side.
“What was that?” Chelsea asked softly, coming close. Then she drew away as if she knew he was keeping a secret. Or, more realistically, she didn’t want to intrude.
“Oh, nothing. Just Gramps in a snit.” He chuckled, using Hooper’s word, then moved his shoulders up and back. They set off down the path. “He’s fine. Really. And me, I’m just needing a good stretch. It’s so beautiful here. Even better than you explained, you know. And great as the website is, nothing compares to this. Except you.” He cleared his throat and slowed his feet. That was lame.
Her cheeks pinked and her bright eyes told him everything when she stopped next to him. “ Dutton, I’m really glad you’re here.”
His heart thudded with dreams coming true. “Why is that?”
“Well, I’ve never forgotten you. Forgotten what we had. I…” Her eyelids lowered, inviting a kiss he was sure. “I still see you at night when I shut my eyes. I still feel your lips.”
On cue, Dutton leaned in. But instead of locking his lips to hers in a kiss like the ones he remembered, she held back. Disappointment curled his toes.
“But more than that, Dutton. I think you were led here for a reason.”
“Led here? What do you mean?” Despite this peek into her heart and his own erupting joy, he couldn’t help a smidge of wariness. She’d had an uncanny knack for reading his mind way back when, but she couldn’t know, couldn’t sense—could she? About the proposed oil drilling? He relaxed a little. No, she was a modern woman who’d just had a mea culpa. Surely she’d realized that oil, like the cell tower, was a necessity and any discomfort it might cause was vastly outweighed by the need for day-to-day survival. For progress and advancement. She did drive a car…And since she’d studied environmental science, surely she’d learned that drilling could be done responsibly.
Ah. He bit the lip that longed to meld with hers.
“Dutton, I honestly think God led us here together, so I could help you find your way.” Her soft voice cuddled his ears, but ruffled his skin. She was so close he smelled the peaches.
He squeezed her hand, but more in frustration than anything. “Chels, we’ve been down this road. I already tried. And believe me. I always did listen to you. Back in Brighton.”
“Back in Brighton. Sounds like a book title.”
“Well, maybe it could be.” His heart lightened at the memory of those days. “Maybe we could write a really happy ending.”
“Don’t you think I want that?” Chelsea’s voice rose and she looked him straight on. “I wanted it back then. I wanted you. Then, and now. Yes, now! I want you. But you’re missing a huge component. God. You keep saying you tried. Nothing happened. But how do you know? Did you expect a thunderbolt or something? Sometimes God comes quietly.”
He shrugged, heat rising, heart pounding. Yet he’d heard correctly. She wanted him. Him. Every cell, every molecule, wanted to scream her name. Against all odds, he calmed himself.
“Yeah.” His words shook. “I did expect something. I don’t know what. But something.”
“Well, God has His own timetable because He knows best.”
He looked away. “If He wants me so bad, He sure has a poor way of showing it.” Jaw tight, he had said it all.
She chortled in surprise. “So that’s it? Like the first time you surfed and fell off your board. That was it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t stop, did you? You climbed back on, rode to the top.”
She was right, of course she was right, but the analogy wasn’t the same, not one single bit. Leaves crunching beneath his foots, he set off faster.
“You don’t get it, Chelsea. Or maybe I don’t get it. Maybe when my grandfather started making peace with my mother, your God could have opened a door. Helped them along. But nothing good happened. I think Gramps is right, and I admit my mom wasn’t much of a hands on mother, but I love her. I love them both. I want them both to...” His voice lowered almost to nothing. The words were almost too painful to voice.
She squeezed his hand. “I am so sorry for your pain. Dutton, I can’t begin to imagine such tumult. But God knows about it. He always has. And you’re missing the point.”
“I guess I am. If it’s such a hard point to get, God must not want me around very bad.”
“Dutton, life at Hearts Crossing hasn’t always been a bed of roses. My family has faced some dreadful times, piled on thick and thicker. and it seemed we couldn’t bear any more. But through Christ, those layers of wounds get peeled away, like the layers of an onion. And you know what that means. The inner layers are the most tender. The most vulnerable. That’s when we must open up and let the healing begin.”
“I don’t get you, Chelsea. When I’m rock bottom and calling out…”
“God is there, Dutton. He always is, and He always has been. He knows your heart, your anxieties. He promises so, in the Psalms. He searches us. He knows. Once your relationship with Him takes off, the healing becomes less painful.”
“Well, what gets that relationship to take off?”
“Trust. Complete trust. It’s hard. I know. I know you’re a guy who wants answers fast. But that’s human stubbornness, our pride. God wants an intimate relationship with you, and He won’t shut any door. But He does it His way, His time. And He won’t let you down. It’s kind of a chorus around here at Hearts Crossing, and maybe it does sound lame. But…let go. Let God.”
“I thought I’d tried.”
“Then try again. He’s calling you. Maybe calling you through me. Lean harder.”
Taking her literally, he leaned c
lose, the wind singing a kind of hymn. Her words soothed, and maybe God was inspiring her to say them, but Dutton Morse wasn’t a man to give in easily. “I still don’t get the Son thing. Sacrificing His own Son.”
“It’s not for us to understand divine wisdom. Just trust Him. It was His plan in the beginning.” Her blue eyes, so earnest, brushed a gaze over his face that told him volumes, maybe even that happy ending. But he needed time. He sure hadn’t intended this casual walk to turn into a sermon.
“All right. I’ll think about it,” was all he could promise. The chattering, laughing families gathering around the picnic table were the perfect change of subject. With a grunt, he gave an upward toss of his chin. “Looks like we better head back for the feeding frenzy.”
“OK.” She smiled, lips tender and sweet and ready for a kiss…if she hadn’t been preaching. Yet, she almost made sense. And he couldn’t resist holding her hand all the way back to camp through a stand of breeze-filled alder trees. He recognized the invisible elastic bands that swung them back and forth together and his heart eased a bit.
Until he thought of Gramps.
6
After grace, Chelsea helped folks dish up Sloppy Joes and their vegetarian relative, then carried her plate to join John, sitting on a log knees wide apart. A huge hunk of normality right now was just what she needed. He was cozy, he was comfy, handsome as a magazine cover, but she knew well that the thrill, if there had ever been one, was long gone. Turmoil rose in her gut, preventing a swallow. From the corner of her eye, she watched Dutton laughing with the Kramer family. Like nothing momentous had happened. She could see that the well-to-do suburbanites were heartily enjoying his down home charm.
Please, Lord. Let Your words take root.
John stretched out a long leg just as well-shaped as Dutton’s. Nada.
“I will take no offense, girl,” he said, sly and shy both. “But you ought to get over there.” He pointed with the toe of his boot in Dutton’s direction. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Could light up a night sky.”
Chelsea grumbled something, pretending her mouth was too full to speak.
“I mean it, Chels. He’s the one from England, right?”
She nodded, forced the food down, took a drink of sweet tea before answering. “Yeah. But we have a lot of differences.” Then she realized her words might hurt. “I’m sorry, John. I guess it would have been easier all around if you and me…” She left the rest unsaid.
John’s brim shook along with his head. “Nope. You and me, we’re snug as two old boots. Well matched, but wearing thin. We had some good times, but…I’m actually saving my money to move on.”
“What? You’re leaving Mountain Cove?” Too late, she realized the insensitivity of her question. His happy childhood had been turned into a world of hurt and strife. “Sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s OK, Chels. Thing is, I’ve worn out my welcome at the Double D. After hiring on for fall round ups around Mountain Cove, I’ll have a little bundle saved. Should be able to manage a little place of my own. Away from all the, you know. Mayhem.”
Mayhem. What a word. She shivered, braved a question she’d long wanted answered. “Um, John? What happened between you and Bobby Ray? You seemed close. Like true brothers.”
His boots shuffled in the dirt. “Guess we all put on a good show. My step-pa left him everything. He might not have meant to, but I got no money to spend on attorneys. It’s all right, Chels. Honest. God’s leading me to find my own way.” He actually chuckled. “Still got my horse and my truck.”
Her heart fluttered with sadness at his hard time, but respect mounted. A pillar of her youth was falling over, but finding a new pedestal somewhere else.
“I’ll be missing you,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “We’ll keep in touch. I’m not sure where the Lord is leading me yet, but I need a job.” Ezra and his prosthetic leg trotted through her mind.
“Are you in some kind of trouble.”
She pondered quickly whether or not to tell John. Well, why not? They’d practically grown up together. “Aw, there’s a horse.”
John chuckled. “There’s always a horse, darlin’.” In the past, his grin would have warmed her through, but worry blazed deep inside instead, and must have shown on her face. “Um, I guess it’s a pretty serious horse,” He squeezed her hand.
“It is. His name is Ezra.”
John’s forehead wrinkled as if he had somehow missed a member of the Hearts Crossing herd.
She shook her head. “No. You don’t know him. He’s a miniature horse. Paint colored. About the size of a large Labrador retriever.”
“A mini? What’s up with that?”
“I found him abandoned on the free range. I was out gathering grass samples for a project during my internship. He’d been attacked by a wild animal, and his right foreleg was dangerously infected when I got to him. And he just stole my heart.”
John tightened his grasp. “Well, your brother’s a vet.”
“Yeah. I was too far away to get him here. I took Ezra to the institute. Besides, I know Pike. He and Hooper defend the dignity of the animal and do not normally approve of last-ditch extreme efforts. The whole family—you too—have seen me take in too many hopeless creatures. The veterinarians at the institute’s animal husbandry center have the same philosophy. They said the leg could not be saved, and they planned to put him down.”
“And what about your brother-in-law? Brayton runs a horse rescue on River Ridge.”
“Yes, he does. But the animals are in reasonable physical health when they arrive. He doesn’t have full-time veterinary staff.”
“Yeah, I get that. But, wow, Chels....”
“Ezra was near death. His options were limited.” Both of them took a long tip of tea. “But I could see that Ezra was not a lost cause.” She squeezed John’s fingers in return. “He’s smart and strong. He had the instincts to protect the leg. He knew to shift his weight so his hurt leg didn’t get overloaded. He’s something special. Plus…” She couldn’t help a smile. “He reacted well to people. This little guy is smart, a survivor. He had the will to live, to fight. I couldn’t let him go.”
“So…you found somebody to get him well?”
She shook her head. “It was God at work. I was desperate. Then I found a vet who saw Ezra the way I did. And not just any vet. He’s an equine surgeon who specializes in saving horses’ legs. I emptied my savings account and hired transport to Doc Harlan’s clinic. He decided on amputation and a prosthesis.”
“Amputation and prosthesis? For a horse?” John whistled and narrowed his lids.
“Yep.” Chelsea sighed. “I’m hearing Pike and Hooper in your tone. But prostheses for horses is a growing technology. It saves animals who would have been put down just a few years ago. The technique’s been tried and successful. Right now, he’s getting physical therapy at a great farm in Wayland. But it’s all expensive, his boarding and rehab.” She drummed her fingertips against her thighs.
“That’s a swell tale, Chelsea. You’ve got a big heart.” He touched her arm. “But I think I agree with your brothers.”
She pushed at him but smiled. “Doc Harlan did a lot of work gratis, but I still need to contribute. So I need to find full time work soon as possible. Wherever I end up, work-wise, I’ll make sure I have either a stall of my own or a facility nearby so I can tend to Ezra. I just saw him Friday, before I came home. And I’ll get back to him soon as the wagon train is over.” She raised her face to look John straight on, good dependable John. “He’s not going to be a house pet or circus attraction. I want him to be a ‘spokesperson’ for disabled kids.”
John’s handsome forehead wrinkled up again. “Chels, you need to tell you brothers. They’re mighty good people. You’ve already got a horse rescue program in the family. And what a team that little horse could be, paired with Creighton.”
Chelsea’s heart warmed at the mere thought of her amazing special-needs nephew.
“I have thought of all that. But I’m not sure. Ezra’s not ready to be on his own yet, and I need money to support him. My summer wagon train earnings won’t cut it.”
“Even more reason to talk to Hoop and Pike. Likely they don’t want you too far from home anyway. I know ‘em well. They’ll work with you.”
Chelsea nodded, feeling the thoughtful love of her old friend cover her like a morning fog over the range. “Oh, John, of course you’re right. And you know me so well. I don’t want to be too far from home either.”
Without thinking, she looked at Dutton again, and his gaze collided with hers. Her heart exploded. For a tortuous second, she couldn’t look away. Blood raced in a hot torrent through her every square inch. She finally gave in to the urge to blow him a kiss.
John tossed her a furtive smile. “Told ya,” he whispered. “Now, you get over there. I’ll help Snowy clean up.” He leaned over and kissed her quick on the cheek.
She caught Dutton’s frown, but the Kramer kids climbed all over him in a dog pile, and he gave in to a wink of delight. Not long after, though, when Hooper directed the group around the campfire, Chelsea made sure she sat next to Dutton. Just like she’d dreamed. With the crowds pushing against them both on either side, they sat crammed and touching, warm and content.
Let go, let God. Deep inside, she knew He was at work in Dutton’s soul.
“Welcome to our first campfire together, here in beautiful Hawk Meadow. God’s country.” Hooper sat in the crowd, stoking the fire. “Before my brother Kenn regales you with some tall tales from the Old West, we’d like to know where y’all come from and how you head about our little wagon train.”
Folks’ answers never changed much. “From Agoura, California. Saw that article on you in Hills and Valleys magazine.”
“Florida. My Great Aunt Peggy has been on these tours three times. She told me it was the most fun she’s ever had. And she’s eighty one.”
“I saw that article, too. Two years ago. It took me that long to convince Edmund to get out of the office and take us here. We’re from Stamford, Connecticut,” Norma said.