An Undaunted Faith

by Andrea Boeshaar

  The wooden door on the schoolhouse creaked open, and Bethany looked up to see a tall shadow of a man. When he stepped forward, she smiled. “Good afternoon, Luke.” Standing from where she’d been sitting on the floor, she then tried to hide the novel in the folds of her skirt. It wouldn’t do if Luke suspected she’d been slacking on her responsibilities as a teacher. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Hello, Beth.” He stepped forward, smiling, yet wearing a curious expression. “What are you reading?”

  She grimaced, realizing he’d seen it. But she wasn’t about to lie to him. “This is one of the books Mrs. Buchanan donated to the school this afternoon.” She made a sweeping glance around her. “Look at all of this, Luke!” Crates cluttered the plank floor. “Mrs. Buchanan said she loves books and has dozens of them shipped from San Francisco twice a year. These are just some she felt she could part with.”

  Luke’s gaze traveled quickly over the wooden containers before it came back around to hers. “That was mighty generous of Mrs. Buchanan.”

  “Indeed.” Bethany watched Luke step closer until he stood right in front of her. Then he held out his hand.

  “Let me see what book’s got you so captivated.”

  Guiltily, she relinquished the novel.

  Luke inspected it. “Hmm…Mountain Mary.” He raised his blond brows in question. “A dime novel, Beth?”

  “I’m doing research,” she stated in her own defense. “I wanted to see for myself what the fuss is all about…in case one of my students has a penchant for these things. I wouldn’t want to be ignorant.”

  “I should say not.” The corners of his mouth lifted with amusement. He handed back the novel. “And just what is all the fuss about?”

  “Well, in this particular story, Mountain Mary is quite a fearsome lady. She can tackle a bear and fend off an entire band of Indians single-handedly. However, she’s willing to give up her love of the mountains for the love of her life. It is quite the sacrifice for her.”

  “I imagine so.” Luke seemed to hide his chuckles behind his amused grin.

  “In any case,” Beth said, feeling indignation coming on, “the story is very compelling.”

  “I reckon it is, from what I saw when I walked in. You seemed engrossed.” Stepping backward, Luke took a seat on the corner of the long table in front of the room. All amusement vanished from his features, and he gave her a warm smile. “Did you have a good day?”

  “I stayed busy. I helped Trudy with the mail earlier.”

  “Does that constitute a good day then?”

  Bethany didn’t know how to reply. How could it be “good” if she was miserable here in Silverstone? Except she didn’t have anywhere else to go…

  Luke leaned closer. “Homesick, Beth?”

  Nibbling her lower lip, Bethany thought it over. “No, not homesick. Just…well, Silverstone isn’t what I’d ever imagined. I feel out of touch with the entire world.”

  Luke grinned broadly. “Welcome to the Wild West.”

  Bethany didn’t feel welcomed in the least. But she couldn’t see how complaining would do her any good either. She set Mountain Mary on a stack of books. “Oh! I almost forgot…do you know what Mrs. Buchanan told me?”

  Luke squinted. “No, what?”

  “Her husband, Clayton, along with their son, Matt, are planning to take the law into their own hands and find the cattle rustlers who looted their ranch. I mentioned it to Mr. Winters, who seemed to side with the Buchanans. They think the Indians are the thieves, but I said I believe Sheriff Montaño’s theory that it’s outlaws.”

  “Oh?” He frowned. “Is the sheriff aware the Winterses and Buchanans plan to do their own avenging?”

  “Yes. He rode by the schoolhouse just after Mrs. Buchanan had these crates deposited here. I told him, since it didn’t appear Mrs. Buchanan would. She told me Sheriff Montaño is most unreasonable.”

  “Hmm…” Luke didn’t seem pleased.

  Bethany folded her hands in front of her and sighed deeply, regretfully. “I probably shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, huh, Luke? Maybe there’s really no cause for concern anyway. You know how Mr. Winters likes talking so smart…”

  “No, you did the right thing, Beth,” he assured her. “Besides, a woman needs to have some gumption out here, although”—his mood brightened—“Mountain Mary is a bit extreme.”

  “Oh, all right,” Bethany teased, “I’ll stop wrestling bears in my free time.” Stooping to pry open another crate of books, she heard Luke’s deep, hearty laugh, and it made her smile.

  Peeking over at him, she thought he seemed awfully clean for having been on a ranch all day. His blond hair was parted neatly to one side, and his pants of cotton jeaning seemed as crisp as the tan shirt he wore, tucked in neatly at the waist. Did he have important business to tend to? Was he going somewhere this evening? Seeing someone?

  Oh, it’s none of my business!

  One by one, Bethany lined up the books so she could tell Mr. Winters how much of a bookshelf she’d need. After all, the man enjoyed pounding furniture together, crude as it could be at times, and far be it from her to rob him of his fun.

  Still, she was curious about Luke. “How was your day?”

  “Quite interesting. I met a Yuma Indian by the name of Warring Spirit. He snuck up on me while I was in Harlan’s barn. Scared the liver out of me, but after we talked awhile, we shook hands in peace.”

  “An Indian?” Bethany straightened and sucked in a terrified breath. “Luke? You came face-to-face with him?”

  He nodded. Then a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Would you miss me, Beth, if I’d have gotten killed this afternoon?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Flustered, she turned her back on him, setting down another armful of books. Why would he ask her such a thing? But his steady silence caused her to realize he was actually waiting for an answer. “Of course I’d miss you,” she stated quickly. “The whole town would miss you. If you were dead, Luke, who would preach to us on Sunday mornings while Pastor Jake rode his circuit?”

  She picked up another book, opened it, and pretended to be suddenly very interested in its subject. Why did he say such things? He often remarked that she looked pretty, and now he asked if she’d miss him if the unthinkable occurred. Didn’t he know a girl could get the wrong idea, what with all his winsome words?

  “It’s a nice evening, Beth. Care to take a stroll before supper?”

  Turning on her heel, she fairly gaped at the man. A stroll? Then slowly it dawned on her that Luke was simply indulging her as he might his younger sister, Sarah.

  Except she wasn’t his sister, and the things he said were affecting her heart in the most unreasonable way.

  “You know, Luke…” She sent up an arrow of a prayer for courage to speak her mind. She fingered the edge of the book nervously. “For a better part of a month now, I’ve been meaning to tell you something, but it’s hard to say.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re interested in a young man here in town.”

  “Interested?” Her head shot up, and she peered at him. “Why, no.”

  He smiled. “That’s good.”

  “Good?” Perplexed, she stepped closer. “Luke, if you talk to all women the way you talk to me, you’re bound to have some angry husbands on your hands. Women just naturally take to those niceties, those compliments. Understand? I’m telling you this for your own good.”

  “Much obliged.” His blue eyes seemed to watch her carefully. “But I don’t flatter all women, and I’m especially careful around the married ones—well, I’m careful around the unmarried ones too.”

  Frustration flamed in her cheeks. “So let me get this straight. You only flatter your…sisters?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “I suppose—”

  “But I’m not your sister, Luke. I’m not even a relation.”

  “For which I am most thankful,” he stated emphatically, wearing a wry grin.

  “Wha
t?” Bethany shook her head, refusing to be deterred by his smart remarks. Obviously he thought himself amusing, but this morning’s incident with Ralph Jonas showed her there was nothing amusing about the opposite gender getting the wrong idea about marriage!

  “Luke, the way you’ve been behaving lately causes me to wonder if you’re interested in me—romantically—which I know is not the case,” she put in hastily. “And, just for your information, my mind has not been influenced by dime novels. I’m merely stating the facts from a woman’s point of view. For your own good.”

  Luke blinked. “I see.”

  She nodded satisfactorily. Judging from his expression, he finally understood.

  “But what if I am interested, Beth?” The sudden earnest look on his face made him appear almost vulnerable.

  “Interested?” The word seemed to stick in her throat. “In me?”

  He nodded.

  “Why?” Her father’s description of her stuck in her soul like bread dough on her fingertips. You’re as plain as a field mouse.

  Luke gave her an easy smile. “How ’bout we go for that stroll? It’s awful stuffy in here.”

  Before she could utter a reply, he took her elbow and propelled her toward the open doorway. They descended the steps of the schoolhouse, and he looped her hand over the crook of his arm.

  Was she dreaming? Had she imagined the last few minutes of conversation?

  “You know, I think it’s going to rain.” Luke hung his head back, gazing up at the sky.

  Bethany didn’t reply. She felt dazed.

  They stepped onto the boardwalk and passed the mercantile, Luke keeping a slow pace so Bethany could keep up with his long-legged strides.

  “I heard a druggist from California has plans to set up shop right here in Silverstone.”

  “Yes, I’d heard that too.” Bethany began to relax. The shock was wearing off.

  “Now that the war is over, I imagine more folks will be coming out West. Those moving into California will likely cross the river at the Yuma Crossing, which means additional business for Silverstone, seeing as our town is right on the way.”

  “Yes, Mr. Winters said much the same thing, and he’s even talking about opening a hotel.”

  “Is that so? What do you think he’ll do with his boardinghouse?”

  “Run it just as he is now, I would guess.”

  “Hmm…”

  Bethany’s tension had all but completely receded, and she found it quite enjoyable to stroll along beside Luke this way.

  Then all too soon they arrived at the boardinghouse.

  Luke paused on the porch before they went inside. “I think I’ll say goodnight here. Don’t worry about the schoolhouse. I’ll close up for you on my way home.”

  “You’re not eating supper here tonight?” Bethany couldn’t mask her disappointment.

  “Naw. I’m still full from Mrs. Whitaker’s midday dinner. But I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Perhaps we can talk some before you have to be at school.”

  “As you wish.” Bethany tamped down her impatience. She wanted to talk with Luke now. Ask him what he meant before. Did he want to court her?

  Luke smiled. “G’night, Beth.” Softness pooled in his blue eyes, answering at least one of her questions.

  “Goodnight, Luke.” She’d have to leave it at that, although her head was still in something of a fog as she watched him traipse back up the hill toward the church. How could it be that the man she thought most handsome, so kind, gentle—and, most of all, godly—could even think to court a plain-looking woman such as herself? He couldn’t be teasing her. Luke would never joke about something so serious.

  Turning the brass knob, Bethany entered the boardinghouse. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it, but too late she realized she’d walked in on some sort of meeting. The lobby was filled with men. A thin layer of gray smoke from their tobacco swirled near the ceiling, and since all eyes were riveted to Mr. Buchanan on the stairway, her presence went unnoticed.

  “This here’s a call to arms, men. Our families are at stake. Them Indians gotta be stopped. The government isn’t doing its job, so we’ve got to take matters into our own hands.”

  Shouts of enthusiasm filled the room.

  “Cattle rustling is a high crime, one that can’t be allowed to go unpunished. If we let those savages get away with stealing our livestock, there’ll be no telling what they take next. Might even be our wives and children.”

  The audience murmured in concern.

  “So, are you with me?”

  Loud, exuberant affirmations filled Bethany’s ears, causing her to wince.

  “Then, as soon as it’s dark, we ride!”

  More cheering broke out, and Bethany slipped back out the door. The sun had begun its descent in the western sky amidst ribbons of orange, red, and lavender.

  She nibbled her lower lip, wondering what she ought to do about what she’d just heard—if anything. Looking down Main Street, she spied the sheriff’s office. Did she chance it? Crossing over to the “bad side of the street,” even if it was for a good cause?

  Except how could she stay quiet? Innocent lives might be lost if she didn’t speak out.

  Decision made, Bethany made her way from the porch. Reaching the street, she looked this way and that, and praying no respectable persons saw her, she stepped off the wooden walk.

  She’d only made it halfway across when suddenly someone grabbed her roughly around the waist. She tried to scream, but a gloved hand went over her mouth. Eyes wide in panic, she kicked and clawed, but she was no match for her assailant’s powerful arms. He quickly lifted her up and around to the back of the Winterses’ establishment.

  Finally his low, husky, and very familiar voice reached her ears. “Miz Stafford, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  FOUR

  BETHANY RELAXED, RECOGNIZING PADEN MONTAÑO’S deep, smooth voice. Slowly he lifted his leather glove from her mouth, and she turned in a whirl to face him.

  “Sheriff, I was just on my way over to see you!”

  Several inches taller, he smiled down at her, a curious look in his eyes. “Iz that so?”

  She nodded, growing uncomfortable as the sheriff’s dark gaze boldly assessed her face, lingering on her lips, while his muscled arm still held her captive. Bethany could feel the top of his ammunition belt pressing against her ribs. She hoped no one would happen to pass by and see them in this most compromising position. It could mean her reputation! Placing her hands on the sheriff’s black leather vest, she tried in vain to create more distance between them.

  “And what were you coming to see me about, Miz Stafford?”

  “I need to tell you something…ooh! Let me go!”

  Sheriff Montaño released her, and Bethany would have fallen backward from her efforts to dislodge herself had he not caught her elbow.

  “I apologize for apprehending you that way, but the alternative would have resulted in your being run over by twenty exuberant cowboys on their way out of the boardinghouse.” He raised his swarthy brows and looked as though he might chuckle. “But you have my undivided attention now, I assure you. What did you want to see me about?”

  Pulling out of his grasp, Bethany gave him a quelling look. “Those same men, the ones you claim would have run me over”— she paused to finish collecting her wits—“well, I overheard their discussion tonight. They’re planning to ride—”

  “Sí, I know all about their intentions.” He wore a stony expression.

  “But, the Indians…those men plan to kill them. Would those tribes really rustle cattle and risk breaking the treaty?”

  “No. They would not. And I am aware of tonight’s plans. But you, Miz Stafford, should not go about eavesdropping.”

  She replied with an indignant gasp. “I was not eavesdropping. I simply walked into the boardinghouse, and there they were, discussing their murderous plans.”

  “Hmm.” The sheriff looked thoroughly amused, but in a
patronizing sort of way.

  “Oh, never mind!” She turned in a huff. Why had she ever thought this man was charming? He was positively maddening!

  “Miz Stafford?”

  She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. The sheriff stepped around, facing her once more.

  “Forgive me, chiquita. I appreciate your concern. Very few Silverstone residents would care if Indians were murdered.”

  “I don’t want anyone to be killed.”

  “I know. You are a very special young woman.”

  Bethany gave him a skeptical look before quizzing him further. “What are you going to do?”

  The sheriff gave her a tolerant smile. “I will try to persuade the men of this unlawful posse to turn back and allow me to take care of finding the real thieves. After that, what more can I do?”

  “Will they listen?”

  He shrugged.

  “But you’re one man against so many.”

  “I will do what I can. Meanwhile, you mustn’t worry your pretty head about such things. Go on inside.” He nodded toward the back entrance of the boardinghouse, which led to the outside kitchen and a courtyard where clean laundry still hung from the line. The chicken coop was there too, along with a pathway to the stables. “I can still hear excitement in the voices coming from the front. It would not be wise for you to meet up with those ruffians right now.”

  The sheriff’s expression appeared indiscernible, although his dark eyes seemed to plead with her until Bethany felt she had no other choice but to comply with his wishes.

  “Very well. Good night, Sheriff.”

  Removing his wide-brimmed, black hat, he bowed gallantly. “Sleep well, Miz Stafford.”

  Hours later Bethany petitioned the Lord. She asked for Paden Montaño’s safety when confronting the angry mob of men. She prayed about her upcoming conversation with Luke, scarcely believing that he could have taken a romantic interest in her. She entreated her Savior for wisdom concerning the forthcoming school year and her new students. “And please bless the Winterses, Dr. Cavanaugh, Jake, and all the McCabes. Be with Sarah and Richard. I know they love You and want to raise children who are serious about their faith—just as they are.” She paused, thinking of her own family. Bitter resentment filled her belly. She hated her father for his mistreatment of her all these years. She hated him for his angry words. Now she worried about her siblings. But she couldn’t be bogged down with worry. She could do nothing to change the situation. She needed to focus on her future. “Lord, keep me safe in this untamed land.” She paused before adding, “Thank You, Jesus, for hearing my prayers.”