Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set

by Lacy Williams

  Blue laughed. “Sort of reminds me of someone.” He’d tried to make Clara see she couldn’t keep running, that she needed to let people help her, but she stubbornly insisted she had to do it her way. He waited for her to understand who he meant and grinned when her eyes flashed a protest.

  “I’m certain I don’t know who you mean.”

  He lifted his eyebrows, just as certain she did.

  She ducked her head and looked directly into Libby’s eyes. “I’m grateful you’re safe, but please don’t do anything so foolish again. There might not be anyone around to pull you out.”

  “It was awfully cold.”

  Clara held her close again and wrapped her tightly. She brought her gaze to Blue. “Are you sure you’re warmed?”

  He nodded. Maybe the cold had affected his brain because he couldn’t seem to extricate himself from this situation. More like he couldn’t think why he should. It felt good to be sitting by a warm stove holding a little girl with a woman and another child at his side.

  “I once—” He broke off. Did he mean to tell the girls about his children? He got to his feet and deposited Eleanor on the chair. “I best be going.” And he rushed back to the church with even more haste than he had left it.

  He could not let himself be drawn into another family.

  *

  “Mama, why did Mr. Blue leave so suddenly?” Eleanor asked.

  “Maybe he was cold. After all, he got all wet in the river.” Though he hadn’t seemed cold at first, she realized. And what had he been about to say? I once—Once what? Once had a family? Once had a home and children?

  A groan tore through her insides. It must hurt him deeply to have been able to save Libby but not his own children.

  What could she do to make it up to him? Likely he’d say he only wanted to be left alone for he’d confessed he was stuck in the desert of his life. The desert had to be a lonely, unhappy place. If she could get him to see he could leave such desolation, she would feel she’d paid her debt of gratitude.

  How was she to do that? She considered her options, which were few. Would he join them for supper?

  She slipped her hand under Libby’s blanket. “You feel warm now.”

  Libby nodded.

  “Then it’s time you got dressed.”

  She helped her daughter into dry clothes and hung the wet things to dry. “You two stay here. I’m going to ask Bonnie if she can give us supper.” She had no money and could offer no services in exchange for the food, but this time she had something more important to consider than her pride.

  She went next door and knocked. When Bonnie answered, she explained how Libby had fallen in the river but was okay. “I don’t want to bring her out so soon after her soaking. Would you mind—” It was harder to ask than she imagined. “Could I—”

  “That poor child. I’m grateful she’s okay. You must certainly keep her good and warm. It would be dreadful if she took a chill. Why don’t I send over enough food for your meal?”

  “Thank you. You’re a generous woman.”

  “Nonsense. In this country we help each other. We never know when we might be the one in need of assistance. Wait right there, and I’ll dish up enough for you.”

  Bonnie ladled thick, savory-smelling stew into a smaller pot. Clara was grateful to see how generous she was. Bonnie cut half a dozen thick slices of bread and wrapped them in a towel. She tucked dishes and silverware into a sack. “Can you manage everything?”

  Clara held the items easily. “Thank you ever so much. I will be sure to pass the kindness on every chance I get.” And she’d start by sharing the food with Blue, showing her gratitude by letting him remember what it felt like to be part of a family circle.

  Bonnie smiled. “That’s the way to do it.”

  Carrying the pot of food carefully, she made her way to the shack. “Girls, I am going to invite Mr. Blue to have supper with us to thank him for rescuing Libby.”

  The girls grinned.

  “Eleanor, would you go ask him?” He’d have a harder time saying no to her than to Clara.

  Libby headed for the door. “I want to go, too.”

  “You can’t. Your coat is wet.”

  “I could borrow yours.”

  Clara laughed despite herself. “Not this time.” Blue’s coat was wet. What would he wear? Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. But Eleanor was already gone.

  Maybe he would refuse.

  Why was she having second thoughts? She stiffened her backbone. She wasn’t. The man was lonely, lost in a desert, and she owed it to him to help him find his way out.

  Eleanor returned as Libby and Clara were setting the table.

  She was alone, and Clara could not deny her disappointment. “Isn’t he coming?”

  “He said he’d be along in a minute. Said he had to take care of his horse.”

  “Did he seem glad of the invitation?”

  Eleanor shrugged. “Of course he was.”

  Clara didn’t know if Blue had expressed pleasure or Eleanor had assumed it. She decided not to pursue the discussion.

  They moved the trunk closer to the table for the girls to sit on so Clara and Blue could sit on the two chairs.

  Clara looked about. All her washing had dried and was put away. All that still hung were Libby’s wet things.

  Clara’s heart missed a beat. She could have lost her daughter. She owed Blue a huge debt. She had to repay him before Petey returned with the stagecoach.

  A knock sounded at the door. “It’s Blue,” he called.

  The girls rushed to let him in.

  He stood at the door, twisting his hat in his hands. “Eleanor said I should come.”

  “I wanted to show my gratitude.” She indicated the table with the food set out.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  The girls dragged him forward and held the chair for him.

  He sat down but looked ready to flee at any moment.

  “Blue, relax—we aren’t going to bite.”

  The girls giggled.

  He nodded, but his gaze went to the door.

  She sat on her chair and the girls perched on the trunk. Then she realized someone would have to say grace. She glanced at the girls. They looked at Blue as if expecting him to do the honors.

  She hoped he wouldn’t disappoint them. “Blue, would you ask the blessing?”

  His gaze darted from the door to her face, then to the girls. He dropped his hat to the floor beside his chair, scrubbed his palms along his thighs and nodded.

  “Thank you, God, for food and friends. Amen.”

  The girls looked ready to giggle at his short prayer, but Clara quelled them with a look. “Now let’s eat.” She pushed the pot of stew toward Blue, and he ladled out two scoops. Then she assisted the girls with their food. Everyone began to eat. Except Blue, who stared at his plate.

  Clara put her fork down. “Blue, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” He picked up his fork.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like eating with us,” Libby said.

  Clara waited for him to answer.

  “Of course I like eating with you. I’m especially happy to see that Libby’s appetite hasn’t been affected by her fall in the river. And it’s good to see Eleanor’s excellent table manners. Yours, too, Libby.”

  The girls beamed at his praise.

  There was so much Clara wanted to say to him, but now, with the girls listening to every word, was not the time or place.

  “Mama taught us good table manners,” Eleanor said.

  “But Grandfather said we had to eat in the kitchen.” Libby sighed. “He said children should be seen and not heard.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Blue doesn’t want to hear about Grandfather.” Clara hoped they wouldn’t say any more.

  Eleanor turned her fork over and over. “He said little girls were useless. Education shouldn’t be wasted on them.”

  Clara forced herself to swallow the food in her mouth. She met Blue’s question
ing gaze boldly, not wanting him to guess at any more details about her father.

  His eyes darkened, and then he turned to the girls. “I’ve always thought little girls were very useful. You help at the church. You help your mother. Why, I think you could do most anything you set your minds to. Just like your mama.”

  The girls glowed under his praise, and so did she. Whether or not he believed it, it felt good to hear the words. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Except make the waters part,” Libby said, her voice full of disgust.

  Clara and Blue looked at each other and laughed.

  The atmosphere grew considerably lighter after that. The girls asked Blue where he had gone earlier, and he told them of his ride.

  “I saw a herd of antelope while I was riding.”

  The girls leaned forward. “Antelope?”

  “Yup. Did you know they can run faster than a horse?”

  The two girls got wide-eyed. “Can we see them?”

  “You pay attention and you might.” He went on to talk about other wildlife he’d seen in the area. “Even wolves and bears up in the mountains.”

  “Was you scared?” Libby asked.

  Eleanor sprang to his defense. “Of course he wasn’t. Mr. Blue isn’t scared of anything. Are you?”

  “Bears and wolves aren’t animals a man should stop being afraid of.”

  “Oh.” Eleanor sounded disappointed.

  “A person just has to be cautious and not let their fear control them.” He looked at Clara, a challenge in his eyes.

  Did he think her fears controlled her? Well, to a certain extent they did. But sometimes fear was a good thing.

  “I think fear should drive us to action,” she said. “Not drive us into retreat.”

  The look he gave her was filled with denial.

  She hadn’t meant to be so challenging. Would her words make him draw back? She soon had her answer.

  He pushed from the table. “Thank you for sharing your supper with me. Now I must go.”

  She watched him stride away, her heart heavy with regret.

  How was she going to undo her words?

  Chapter Ten

  At the church, Blue worked his wet boots off again and propped them by the stove to dry. He changed his socks and picked up his book. With a groan, he dropped it to the nearby pew. He wouldn’t be able to read with his mind full of turmoil.

  What was he thinking to challenge Clara about her fears? Who was he to say she shouldn’t let them control her?

  He strode to the windows facing town and stared at the empty streets. Miss Prudence Foot lived next to the livery barn with her brother. He glanced from her house to the little shack where Clara and the girls stayed. Could the woman see it from her place? He shrugged. What difference did it make? He’d only been at the shack a short while and had left well before dark.

  He crossed to the other side of the church and looked out the windows. The street led away from town, away from the ranch. Away. Maybe it was time to ride away.

  He turned to face the interior of the building. He couldn’t leave. He had to make the pews. Besides, someone had to make sure Clara and the girls were safe. The irony of not wanting to care and yet being so concerned about their well-being was not lost on him. Nor did he try to reconcile the two. He’d been able to save Libby. It didn’t make up for losing his own children, but it was something. Just as making sure Clara and the girls were safe allowed him to do something that helped ease the pain of not being able to save his own family.

  Tomorrow he would apologize for his rash words and make things right between them. Then he could find the peace of mind he sought.

  The next morning he hurried over for breakfast, anxious to assure himself they were all okay. Libby bounced about so excitedly her mother had to scold her.

  “Her soaking doesn’t appear to have harmed her,” Blue said.

  Clara shook her head. “Certainly hasn’t slowed her down.”

  Bonnie and Claude expressed their concern over Libby’s fall into the river.

  “Mr. Blue saved me.” Libby gave him such an adoring look that he almost choked on his food. He was growing far too familiar with the adoration of two little girls even though he’d tried to resist it from the beginning.

  “And we’re all grateful,” Clara said. “But perhaps, Libby, you could stop chattering and finish your breakfast so people can get on with their day.”

  Libby nodded and concentrated on her plate of food, but she wriggled about as if she were about to explode.

  Blue was already done and pushed away from the table, thanked Bonnie and Claude for the meal and hurried to the church. As he waited for Clara and the girls to join him, he rehearsed what he wanted to say.

  The girls clattered in first and dived for the buckets. Just as quickly they raced outside to fill them with snow.

  Clara waited for them to dart by her before she stepped inside. She heaved a huge sigh of relief. “I hope Libby will settle down once she gets busy on her chores around here.”

  He chuckled. “She’s full of vinegar today.”

  “You could say that.”

  They looked at one another. Their expressions grew serious.

  “Blue, I want—”

  He spoke at the same time. “I need to apologize. I didn’t mean—”

  She stopped. “You go first.”

  “Okay.” He was afraid if he didn’t get the words out right away, he wouldn’t be able to. “I didn’t mean to offend you last night by talking about your fears.”

  “Wait a minute. You think I was offended?”

  He nodded.

  She spoke. “I was afraid I had offended you and meant to apologize.”

  He thought back to what she’d said. Fear should drive us to action. Not drive us into retreat. “You think I retreat?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that so much as…well, maybe…” He could think of no other way to describe it.

  “Wandering in the desert?” she supplied.

  He shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “Isn’t it time to get out of the desert?”

  Why was she so insistent? It wasn’t as though she had any understanding of what he needed. Or wanted. But then, it seemed he didn’t, either. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if it’s time? Or you don’t know how to do it?”

  He didn’t much care for the way this conversation was going. It made him feel exposed. But wait. He wasn’t the one running away. “What about your running?” he shot back. “Who are you afraid of?”

  Her eyes darkened and filled with fear and caution as if she’d seen the person she feared. “I—” She shook her head. “It’s safer if you don’t know. If you forget you ever met us.”

  “Safer for who? And how do you expect me to do that? I’ve been trying to forget for two years. Forgetting is not easy.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know.” All he knew was that forgetting her would not be any easier than forgetting Alice and his children. “What do you suggest I do?”

  The look in her eyes begged for something, though he couldn’t say what. Her look went on and on. Probing, searching, uncovering, revealing, and he was powerless to stop it. It seemed as if the light of the sun and moon and a sky full of stars burst through the barriers of his heart. He knew he should be concerned, but he wasn’t. Knew he should close his heart, but he couldn’t.

  He’d deal with the aftermath of her searching look later.

  “I don’t know.” Her words were an honest cry.

  “Nor do I. It seems we’re both locked in a past we don’t like and facing a future we can’t control.”

  Light flared through her eyes as if she’d been stricken by a revelation. “Of course we can’t. Why do we think we can? I choose to trust God. You should, too. It’s so much easier than kicking and fighting against circumstances.”

/>   “What makes you think I want it easier?”

  Her smile was sweet, almost overriding his lingering resistance. “I think you want what we all want. Assurance we will find the strength to face the trials and challenges of the future. A reason to go on. Trust in God gives us that.”

  “I wish it was that easy.” He envied her the serenity and peace that filled her eyes.

  “Maybe part of the problem is it’s so easy. We long to earn that which God offers freely—His love and care. But it’s already paid for in full.”

  He nodded. “I know all that.”

  “But you still don’t believe?”

  “I can’t remember how.” How did he believe without putting aside the memory of Alice and his children? And to do so would be to waste their lives.

  She took his hand and placed her palm to his; with the fingers of her other hand, she stroked the back of his hand. It was a hypnotic caress that eased his worries and freed his thoughts.

  “I will pray you find the way back to your faith.”

  The girls thudded into the room, banging the buckets against the door frame as they tried to get through together.

  Clara released his hand. He stepped back, barely able to pull his thoughts into some semblance of order. Clara grabbed the end of the tape measure, and they soon settled into the comfortable rhythm of the work.

  But something had changed. There was a sense of understanding between them that he wondered at. How could two people, both intent on going their separate ways, share anything more than the work they did together?

  He was at a loss to explain it except to acknowledge there was a sense of having walked the same path for a few hours.

  He watched the girls playing their pretend game by the pile of wood. He’d grown to care for them.

  He studied Clara bent over a piece of wood, deep in concentration as she ran the planer over it. He’d grown to care for her, too.

  Caring cost.

  Caring hurt.

  But the reminders came a little too late.

  *

  Clara wondered if she’d said too much. Her words had come from a heart that almost burst with sorrow for him. He was so lost. Several times throughout the day, she stole glances at him when he wasn’t looking her way. He seemed thoughtful but not upset.