Tomorrow's Shining Dream

by Naomi Rawlings

  Pa pulled his Bible into his lap from where it had already been laying open on his desk and flipped through several pages. “In Second Corinthians twelve, Paul says he has a thorn in the flesh, some kind of physical malady that made serving God difficult for him. We don’t know what the thorn was. Maybe he had one of his legs amputated like me, maybe he had stomach trouble and couldn’t keep food down. Some scholars think he had trouble seeing. The Bible never says, but we do know Paul sought God three times to get rid of the malady, and God refused each time.

  “At the end of it all, God told Paul, ‘My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.’”

  “You don’t need to tell me what Second Corinthians twelve says.” Daniel paced on the opposite side of the bed from where his father’s desk was set. “But I don’t think I could do what you do every day.”

  If he’d woken from the doctor’s morphine to find his leg had been cut off, he just might have put the barrel of his pistol to his head and pulled the trigger.

  “There’s more.” Pa didn’t bother to look at his Bible when he quoted the verse this time. “‘Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong.’ Then in the next verse, Paul calls himself a fool over how much glorying he does because of his suffering.

  “I’m not going to lie, Daniel.” Pa ran a hand down his leg, which ended as a stump around the middle of his thigh. “It’s hard for a man to take pleasure in his infirmities. It’s hard to get up every morning knowing I’ll never walk again, and then turn around and thank God for it.”

  Daniel stopped pacing. Pa thanked God for his amputated leg? As in, actually said thank you?

  “But if Paul can thank God for his debilitating state, then I reckon I can, too. It’s what God wants.” Pa looked up, the clear blue of his eyes meeting Daniel’s gaze. “Because the point, son, isn’t us. The point is God. It’s what He can do through us in our weakness. When everyone can look at us and see our weaknesses open and laid bare, yet they see strength shining through those weaknesses, they know that strength is God, and He’s the one who’s glorified.”

  He didn’t want to be weak. He wanted to be strong, the protector the town needed, the person who stopped the rustlers and found Mattherson’s cattle.

  What good would a weak sheriff do Twin Rivers?

  “What’s this really about?” Pa asked.

  “Your leg, that wheelchair, it’s all Cain’s fault.”

  “And you’re bothered he’s going to get the credit for catching the rustlers?”

  “I’m bothered because he’s too stubborn-headed and prideful to listen to reason. The rustlers have to be the ones using the hideout at Closed Canyon. I can’t think of a single other reason why that would be in use. But Cain won’t listen.” Daniel was back to pacing again, his steps quicker and more agitated than they were before. “Which means he’s going to fail us again like he did last time, and people will end up maimed or dead. Or both.”

  Pa’s shoulders drooped, and he sighed. “Cain isn’t the one responsible for me losing my leg.”

  “You can’t say that. He left his post. He left you. And when a group of outlaws saw that, they tried to lynch you. If not for Sam having that broken arm, hearing the commotion, and stumbling out of the doctor’s office before they could string you up, you’d be dead.” The words were familiar. He’d said them so many times in his head over the years that they had no trouble dropping out of his mouth—even if they weren’t entirely true.

  “Have you talked to Cain about why he and his men rode off that night?”

  “You know what he’s like. Arrogant and cocky and never apologizes, even when he knows he’s wrong.” Maybe that’s why the entire situation galled. The man couldn’t apologize for anything, ever. Even when people like Pa ended up maimed, he still refused to take responsibility. “Don’t you care that you lost your leg? Don’t you care that it’s his fault?”

  “It’s not Cain’s fault. It’s the fault of the rustler who fired his gun. But you’re forgetting God’s hand in all of this. God could have saved my leg entirely that night. Or He could have taken my life. Instead God gave me this, the opportunity to be alive, to guide my wife and my children and see them grow older, maybe even watch as they start their own families.” Pa spoke in that experienced way he had, his words filled with a kind of wisdom that would take most people three lifetimes to achieve. “You need to sit down and talk to Cain about what happened. You’ve blamed him for my leg for too long. But nothing that occurred happened without God allowing it.”

  “I already did,” Daniel gritted. “He told me there were other rustlers that came into town and then rode out as soon as they spotted the rangers. He said they had no choice but to give chase, and that none of them ever considered the possibility of there being a third group of outlaws waiting to lynch you.”

  “Three groups of rustlers.” Pa sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin, a distant look in his eyes as though he was trying to remember the events as they’d unfolded. “That would make sense. But if you’ve talked with him, why are you storming around my room?”

  “Because there was something more he could have done.” Daniel nearly shouted the words. “Cain could have at least left one or two men behind so that you weren’t completely alone. You’ll never be able to convince me otherwise.”

  “Can’t you see it?” Pa raised his arms and opened his hands to encompass the room around him. “God has still brought good out of the situation, even if I don’t understand precisely why He allowed me to lose my leg.”

  He swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat and spun toward the door. “I need to go.”

  “Strength in weakness, son. Just remember that. Sometimes we need to be weak for God to make us strong.”

  Daniel heard his father’s words, but he didn’t have the first clue what to do with them.

  18

  Thunder rolled over the desert in a long, deep rumble. Charlotte glanced at the mountains to her south, where dark clouds had gathered above the peaks. A gust of wind blew over the desert, bringing with it cool air from the coming storm.

  “Come on, girl.” Charlotte shifted her weight, leaning back in the saddle to keep her balance as Athena picked her way down the slope of the mountain that rose directly behind the hacienda. “We only have a few more minutes before the rain comes.”

  If she judged the path of the storm correctly, it was headed straight toward the A Bar W, and none too soon. They hadn’t had much rain this summer.

  This particular mountain didn’t offer much desert grass for grazing cattle, so she didn’t often ride this high, but it offered a clear view into Mexico, and she had wanted a glimpse of the country Consuela had returned to.

  Their housekeeper had been gone for almost a week, but it felt as though she’d been gone for years.

  Charlotte pulled Athena onto one of the ledges protruding from the side of the mountain, giving the beast a chance to rest for a moment and regain her balance.

  The impressive wall of the Sierra Madres looked dangerous beneath the dark swell of clouds and slashes of lightning that hovered atop them.

  Movement from the valley floor below caught her eye, and she squinted into the distance. Riders headed toward the A Bar W. She’d guess there were five or six, judging by the size of dust cloud that rose in their wake.

  Could it be Andrew Mortimer and his father?

  Something caused her chest to tighten. Excitement? Fear? Nervousness? She didn’t quite know what to call the emotion coursing through her. Perhaps the riders weren’t the Mortimers. It could be Cain and a group of his rangers, though if he was riding toward the A Bar W with so many men, the reason wouldn’t be good.

  The riders raced toward the house, likely trying to escape the storm that was slowly shi
fting away from the Mexican mountains and moving north toward Twin Rivers. It must be the Mortimers. A little summer storm wouldn’t bother Cain Whitelaw.

  An angry bolt of lightning slashed from the sky, and she dug her heels into Athena’s side. If she hurried, she might be able to sneak into the back of the house and change into one of her new dresses before Andrew came inside. She had no intention of looking like a wet, bedraggled mess when she greeted her future husband.

  Her plan worked perfectly. She arrived at the back of the hacienda, called for one of the ranch hands to tend to Athena, and made it inside and halfway into a green dress before she heard commotion in the yard.

  She yanked the pins out of her tangled, wind-blown hair, brushed it quickly, then twisted it behind her head and jabbed a dozen or so pins back into her tresses. Hopefully the updo would hold for at least a few hours.

  A knock sounded at the door, followed by the sound of one of the new maid’s voices. “Señorita? Tu hermano desea tu presencia.”

  “Tell Wes I’ll be right there,” she answered in Spanish as she tucked the final pin into her hair.

  Hopefully Andrew would be pleased with how she looked. Daniel would certainly compliment her.

  Daniel. She froze, her eyes riveted to her reflection in the mirror. Why was she thinking about Daniel? He’d been quick to compliment her on her looks, yes, but only because she and Anna Mae had strong-armed him into teaching her how to flirt. If he’d truly meant those compliments, he wouldn’t have been so eager to end their meetings.

  She headed down the corridor, but no voices filled the house or echoed up the stairs. She took the stairs slowly, careful to lift her dress just enough to be ladylike, then walked to the front door, which stood open despite the dark sky that looked ready to loose a torrent any second.

  The men and their horses were all gathered by the barn, including Pa and Wes. A brown horse with a familiar head rose from the middle of them. What were they doing with Duke?

  She started down the wide stone steps, then crossed the yard. A tall, thin man stood a few feet back from the others. “Pa?”

  She must have spoken loudly enough for him to hear, because he turned and met her gaze. He looked far too pale to be out of bed, but other than that, he held himself straight, his shoulders back in a pose that communicated both determination and authority.

  “Charlotte. Come.” His voice sounded low and weak, but she seemed to be the only one who noticed. “Andrew wanted a look at Duke. I think he’s missed him.”

  “Indeed I have.” Andrew stepped forward, his brown eyes meeting hers and a half smile tilting one side of his mouth. He was dressed in a three-piece suit that looked conspicuously unwrinkled and free of dust despite the fact he’d been traveling. “Did you enjoy him?”

  “I did. He’s faster than Ares.”

  “I want a rematch,” Wes grumbled from where he stood near Duke’s head.

  Andrew let out a laugh. “Of course he’s faster. Your Arabians might be better in the heat, but they’ll never be as fast.”

  “I can’t wait to breed him with Athena and see how the foal turns out. Maybe the offspring will be as fast as his or her father.”

  “It’s likely.” Thunder rumbled behind Andrew’s words, and lightning flashed in the sky beyond the barn.

  She stepped close enough that the others wouldn’t be able to hear every last word she spoke, then peered up into his face. “Thank you for thinking of my fondness for horses when you sent him. I was stunned at first, but it didn’t take me long to realize what a wonderful gift you’d given me.”

  “It was my pleasure.” A fat raindrop landed on Andrew’s hat. He cast a brief glance up at the sky that still looked ready to unleash a downpour, then extended his arm to her. “Perhaps you’d like to take him for a ride after the storm passes? I didn’t get much time to explore your ranchland when I was here before. I’m told it has some lovely vistas.”

  She threaded her arm through Andrew’s, and a smile spread across her face. A true, genuine smile. “That would be lovely.”

  Her father was right. Sharing a life with Andrew wouldn’t be any hardship at all.

  And yet, when she thought about riding across the desert later, she didn’t imagine herself with a dark-haired man in a pristine suit.

  All she could see was a pair of familiar blue eyes beneath a dusty cowboy hat that had a sheriff’s badge pinned to the top of it.

  The rain refused to stop. What looked to be a storm that might last for a half hour took three hours to end, so she and Andrew ended up packing a picnic supper.

  When they finally returned to the stable, she discovered Andrew thought it unreasonable for her to saddle Duke by herself, and he called one of the ranch hands to ready both of their horses. Pulling a perfectly capable man away from his duties to put a saddle on a horse seemed like a waste, but she kept her mouth shut. After all, Andrew probably had grooms who attended solely to his horses in San Antonio.

  Duke’s gait was strong and powerful as he trotted over the desert, but since she was using a sidesaddle, she didn’t invite Andrew to race her. Both of their thoroughbreds worked themselves into lathers only halfway to their destination, which meant they had to veer off course to visit a stream so their beasts could drink. The thoroughbreds also didn’t like the rocky terrain and steep slopes of the desert.

  Truth be told, she would have rather given Andrew one of her Arabians to ride and taken Athena, but he’d been so excited to have her ride Duke that she hadn’t bothered to tell him the Arabians were better suited for the ride she’d planned. But these things would matter little once they were married and she was in San Antonio, where there were no mountains and there would be little opportunity to race.

  Charlotte reined Duke to a stop behind Andrew’s stallion and started to dismount, only to realize that Andrew had quickly swung off his own horse and was coming to help her get down. She hadn’t needed help getting off a horse for fifteen years or better. Well, except for that one time with Daniel…

  She could still recall the warmth from his hands that had seeped through the fabric of her dress as he held her to keep her from falling while she untangled her skirt from the sidesaddle.

  “Charlotte?” Andrew asked. “Can I assist you?”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. It was one thing to think about Daniel when she was alone in her room, but what was she doing thinking about him while Andrew was right here in front of her?

  Andrew led Duke to a rock that would serve as a makeshift mounting block. Then he took one of her hands while she unhooked her right leg from the top pommel and slid her left leg down to the rock. Her right leg found the boulder a moment later, and she stepped onto the ground.

  “It’s beautiful.” Andrew turned to face the mountains to the east.

  The ledge where they stood dropped away into a valley beneath them. Desert grass, trees, and shrubs all clumped together beside the meandering stream that wound through the dip in the land, and cattle gathered to drink from the creek and graze. A mountain rose up directly from the floor of the valley, the first peak a mixture of bright yellow and shadowy pink from the sun in the far west. Then another peak rose up beside it, and another behind those two, and on and on the mountains rolled, obstructing everything but the small valley immediately before them.

  “This is my favorite place to come. I always feel like I can reach out and touch the mountains when I stand here.”

  “Indeed.” Andrew reached for her gloved hand again, then held it by his side and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’d been to your hacienda before, but I had no idea the rest of your land had such lovely views. I’m afraid San Antonio doesn’t offer anything similar.”

  “San Antonio is pretty in its own way.”

  One side of his mouth lifted up into a half smile that was already becoming familiar. “You don’t have to say that just to flatter me.”

  She couldn’t quite stop herself from smiling back at him. “The grounds around your family’s m
ansion are very pretty.”

  “That they are. It takes three full-time gardeners to tend them, especially if we have a dry spell and all the plants need to be watered.”

  Ah yes, she could imagine hauling water to keep the soil moist during a drought would take the work of several men, even in San Antonio, which was far greener than the Chihuahuan Desert.

  “Are you hungry for supper?” She tried to tug her hand away so she could get the food, but Andrew didn’t release her.

  He tilted his head to the side, and his eyes roved her face, two pools of deep brown that she couldn’t quite read.

  Did he like what he saw when he looked at her? Sweat beaded along the hair at the top of her forehead.

  “Let’s walk for a bit first.” He still kept her hand gripped in his, which somehow felt more intimate than if he would have offered his arm for her to rest her hand on.

  He led her along the ledge that overlooked the valley and mountains. The lowing of the cattle rose up from the valley floor and a jackrabbit scampered around the mountain somewhere above, but otherwise, silence stretched between them.

  Was she supposed to think up something to say? She’d never mastered this part of being courted, not even with all the time she and Daniel had spent together.

  Her hands grew clammy, though given the gloves she wore, at least Andrew wouldn’t be able to feel the moisture. She opened her mouth and forced herself to ask the only thing she could think of. “How was your trip from El Paso?”

  “Hot, but it went as well as can be expected for traveling through the desert in the middle of summer.” Andrew stopped walking. “You already asked me that inside, remember?”

  She had? Oh dear. Heat burned her neck and cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the warmth of the desert.

  He looked at her again, once more tilting his head to the side in a way that made her want to squirm or look away or both.