Ben regained his footing and barreled into Winston with all he was worth. With a grunt, Winston released Ellie. She grabbed the man’s hand and bashed it against the edge of the coach door. He howled and shoved her, the gun falling from his grip.
Ben struck him again and Winston toppled onto him, arms and leg flailing. Ellie beat at Winston’s head with both fists. Winston pressed Ben’s face into the ground until Ben thought his jaw would break. Moonlight glimmering from the barrel of the gun lying in the dirt caught his attention. He stretched out his arm, flexed his fingers and closed them around the barrel. This time he could help her. This time he could keep his sister safe.
In the next second a blast echoed in his ears.
The horses reared and whinnied and harnesses jingled; the carriage rocked. The smell of gunpowder burned his nose.
“Ben!” Ellie screamed.
On top of him, Winston’s body lay still and heavy. Ben rolled him off and staggered to his feet.
Ellie stared at the unmoving body. Looked at the gun in Ben’s hand.
“I didn’t mean to,” Ben said on a released breath.
A light came on in one of the nearby houses, then another. She knelt over Winston’s prone body and she pressed her fingers to his throat, then looked up at her brother. “He’s dead.”
When the truth about Winston Parker had been exposed, Ben had been pardoned. Sometimes the truth still haunted him. But he wouldn’t change what he’d done.
He’d do it again today if he had to.
Inside the barn Ben lit a lantern and saddled his black ranger with its characteristically white-spotted rump. Titus turned an intelligent-looking face toward Ben and nodded as though anticipating a run.
“We’re stayin’ on the road, you know,” Ben told him. “Not takin’ any chances of you steppin’ into a hole in a field. It’s a pretty night. Maybe we’ll see Hoot out there.”
He led the horse outside, closed the barn door and mounted.
Titus pranced and Ben patted his neck with a smile. “Well, all right then.” He nudged the horse’s sides, and the animal shot forward.
This particular breed was not that old, descending from two horses presented to General Ulysses Grant by a Turkish sultan maybe twenty years ago. Bred from an Arabian and a Barb and then later crossed with a Quarter Horse, they were known as Colorado Rangers. Because if its pedigree, Ben had paid a pretty penny for the colt four years ago. He liked to imagine Titus’s ancestors carrying sultans and princesses in exotic lands.
Titus carried him swiftly, sure-footedly anticipating the bends in the road and responding to the slight tension on the reins as they came within sight of Newton.
Ben reined his mount to an easy halt and viewed the lights of the city. Sometimes he thought about leaving Kansas behind. Making a start somewhere with mountains and cold rivers. Somewhere without the oppressive history this land held for him. But his older sister’s abiding love and his feelings of responsibility toward his younger brother held him fast. Ellie told him he spent too much time living in his head, that he needed more than animals for companions. In his opinion there weren’t many humans that were equal company or comfort. People were a disappointing breed.
The night breeze caressed his hair, and he gazed upward at the stars. Maybe Ellie was right. She was sure happy with her family and friends. Maybe he should try a little harder, work to discover and possess what was missing in his life.
Just the idea made his stomach burn. He leaned forward in the saddle and patted Titus’s neck. “What is missing?” he asked aloud.
The animal’s ears twitched.
A picture of his sister touching her husband’s chin with a look of adoration flitted across his thoughts, followed by another disturbing image: Lorabeth standing beside the bed with the red-and-white quilt.
All Ben knew of family life was what he’d observed from the outside looking in. What he knew firsthand about men and women wasn’t fit for a respectable person to think on.
Ben knew the dark side of men. He wasn’t afraid of what they could do to him. He’d already endured more than his life’s share of bad treatment, and he’d grown strong and capable in spite of it. He wasn’t afraid of hunger or poverty or even the judgment of other people. He could take care of himself, and he didn’t set much store by opinions or gossip.
What scared the wits out of him was that he was a man. And as a man what he was capable of. Choices were what set him apart. Good choices were what kept him from being like those others. He’d had no option but to kill once. But he could choose to live the rest of his life with honor and integrity, exercising self-control and challenging himself to become stronger.
But if what was missing was something inside him, he didn’t know if he could fix that. Where did a person look to find a piece of himself?
Lorabeth’s first full-time week couldn’t have come at a better time. Ellie had been so tired and her body felt so weighted and achy that she was more than grateful to have her competent young helper close. She didn’t remember this fatigue with her other pregnancies, but Caleb assured her each time was unique and that she had no reason for concern.
She felt positively slothful each time Lorabeth brought a tray to her in bed. Caleb spent as much time at home as possible, and even Ben stopped by nearly every day.
One morning midweek she’d asked Lorabeth to let the girls come play at the foot of the bed and later she read them stories while Lorabeth prepared ahead for the evening meal.
Ellie had just concluded The Ugly Duckling, and Anna was asleep on her shoulder when Ben leaned head and shoulders into her room.
“Is this a bad time?”
Ellie laid down the book. “Of course not. Come in.” She gestured for him to come to the side of the bed.
He pulled the chair close.
“Would you mind laying her down in her own bed?” she asked, indicating the sleeping child.
With a grin at Lillith, her brother gently lifted Anna and carried her, cradled in his arms, from the room.
“You, too, sweet pea,” she told the impish five-year-old. “Lie down for a nap and don’t wake your sister. Kiss.”
Lillith hugged her around the neck, pressing her sweet lips to Ellie’s cheek before scampering from the bed. She nearly collided with Ben in the doorway, and when he hauled up short, she raised her arms for him to carry her, as well. He obliged her, hushing her giggles as he strode from the room.
Minutes later, he returned.
“You look refreshed today,” he told Ellie, sitting beside her and taking her hand.
“I look tired and puffy, and you know it, but I don’t want to talk about me today. Tell me all about your animals.”
“Well, let’s see. I told you I spotted Hoot the other night, didn’t I? And the Olson brothers brought me a frog they think is sick. I’ve never done frog resuscitation before, but I think the little bugger’s gonna live. Oh, and I’ve adopted a goat.”
“Not a goat, Ben.”
“She’s a good companion around the place and she gives milk, so she’s not just another mouth to feed.”
“Companion, huh?”
She smirked and he grinned.
“I suppose you’ve named her?”
“Delilah.”
“You’ve named a goat Delilah.”
“It’s a good name.”
“It’s a fine name, it just doesn’t sound like it belongs to a goat.”
“How many goats have you known?”
She met his pale eyes, and knew he was alluding to something from their past. “A couple, as you well know. Remember the goat Caleb kept when Nate was a baby?”
But that wasn’t the same animal that had come to mind first. As a girl, she’d stolen out in the dark of night more than once to bring milk back to her younger brothers. There was a time when she’d grown a tobacco patch and rolled cigars to sell to the men outside the saloons just so she could pay for a few groceries. She’d stolen chickens from coops and vegetables
from gardens, and still there’d never been enough.
“This is a good life,” she said, never forgetting for a moment how fortunate they were.
“I can’t explain what I feel when I look at those youngsters,” Ben said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I know.” He didn’t have to explain. She knew well enough. The differences in their childhoods and those of her children were a universe apart. As far as from where they sat in this room to the outermost star. “The past has to be the past, Ben.”
“It’s where I came from, Ellie.”
“But it’s not who you are.”
“I am who I am because of where I came from.”
“In spite of where you came from,” she said. “You’ll never completely move on until you let go.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
“Yes.”
“But you haven’t forgotten.”
“I can’t erase the past, but I don’t have to punish myself with it.”
“Is that what you think I do? Punish myself?”
“Sometimes.”
There was a light tap on the open door and Lorabeth carried a tray into the room. “I brought your lunch.”
Ben straightened in his chair.
“I’m positively spoiled,” Ellie said, smoothing the covers in an attempt to find a spot on her nearly obliterated lap.
“You deserve it,” Ben told her.
Lorabeth stepped forward to settle the legs of the wooden tray in an easy-to-reach position. She straightened and rubbed a palm against her apron. Her hair hung in a thick braid that draped over her shoulder. “If you haven’t had lunch, I can bring you a sandwich and a glass of milk,” she said to Ben. “You can eat with your sister.”
“Much obliged, Miss Lorrie,” he said, adopting the name the children called her.
At that Ellie observed the becoming color in her helper’s cheeks with growing interest.
Lorabeth flashed an easy smile and hurried out.
Ben noticed a bunch of violets arranged in a tiny milk-glass jar on Ellie’s tray. “She brought you flowers.”
His sister smiled and raised the delicate blooms to her nose. “She’s a godsend.”
He gestured to the food on her tray. “Don’t wait for me.”
A few minutes later Lorabeth arrived with another tray and held it toward him. “Dr. Chaney had two pies delivered with the bread this morning. Would you care for a slice of peach or raisin, Mr. Chaney?”
Her eyes were the warm color of clear honey, and he liked the direct way she looked into his. “Ben,” he replied.
Lorabeth held his gaze, and a flush crept up her cheeks.
“I’ll get a slice later,” he told her. “Thanks.”
He noticed the way her hair shone in the sunlight from the window, then snared his thoughts.
“I’ll take peach,” Ellie said with a smile in her voice.
Lorabeth glanced toward Ellie with an embarrassed nod, then hurried from the room.
He picked up half a sliced beef sandwich, took a bite and caught Ellie looking at him. He chewed before asking, “What?”
She bit into a small shiny red apple with a satisfying crunch. “Nothing.”
Half an hour later, Ellie was ready for a nap. Ben took both trays and carried them down to the kitchen where he found Lorabeth at the table scraping carrots. She laid down the knife and started to rise, but he waved her back down.
“Don’t stop what you’re doin’. I’m going to help myself to a slice of that raisin pie.”
He poured milk from the ice chest on the back porch, then sat down with the full glass and a huge slice of pie.
“Ellie’s going to nap,” he said.
She nodded and continued to scrape carrots.
“I don’t suppose it’s a good week to make headway on those accomplishments of yours,” he said.
She glanced up. “What do you mean?”
“You know, taking the long walks, reading all the books in the library…your train trip.”
She dipped her head and raised one shoulder. “All that sounds foolish when you say it.”
“It’s not foolish,” he disagreed. “I was just thinking that you’re spendin’ all your time looking after Ellie and the children.”
She looked up, her hands falling still. “That’s my job.”
“But your free time,” he mentioned. “Your free time is monopolized this week, as well.”
“Mrs. Chaney needs me, and I’m pleased to be here for her.”
“Maybe I could pick up a few books for you. At the library.”
Her eyes widened in apparent interest.
“It’s probably not as much fun as picking out your own. Caleb has a huge library, too. You could find a number of interesting subjects in there. I read through his books when I lived with them.”
“I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not family, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Books are made to be read,” he told her. “Caleb won’t mind if you help yourself, but I’ll mention it to him so you’ll be assured. And I’ll check out a few books until you can get to the library yourself.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you doing that for me?”
“I appreciate you taking care of Ellie. And the way you do it is more than just a job,” he said. “You do things from your heart. With kindness.”
He had a moment’s regret for saying something so personal. But the way she looked at him then, with surprise and pleasure, made him feel as though he’d said something important.
“The Bible does say that whatever I do I should do it as unto the Lord,” she replied.
He took a drink of milk. “What does that mean?”
“I believe it means that each task, no matter how mundane, is a service unto God as long as we’re doing it with pure motives and a right heart. No job is small or unimportant in God’s eyes.” She sliced the carrot lengthwise on the cutting board and placed it in a tin pan.
“Take scraping this carrot,” she went on, holding up another. “It seems like an ordinary task, boring even, and perhaps it is. Some jobs are thankless but necessary. However, these carrots will nourish the Chaney family. The doctor is strengthened to go to work and save lives. Your sister is nourishing the child she carries and gaining strength to bring a new life into this world.
“The children are growing bodies and minds that will accomplish great things one day. Who knows?” Her vibrant expression lit her features. She’d been caught up in her passionate explanation, but she suddenly looked at Ben. “One of them could start a school or a hospital or give birth to a scientist that cures a disease or to a missionary who travels the world. We’re just minuscule parts of an infinite picture.”
Ben recognized all the joy and hope his own life was lacking. He envied her vitality and her optimism. She represented all the things he was starved for, and resentment and longing scared the spit out of him. He would never be that innocent again, never share her idealism. The fact that the inability was through no fault of his own dredged up reservoirs of anger.
Their eyes met for a heart-stopping moment.
No one had ever challenged his self-control as strongly as this woman did simply by being open and expressive. She stood for everything he strove for. And everything he wasn’t.
Chapter Five
He leaned across the table and plucked a carrot stick from the pan. “I think I’m needin’ one of these. Who knows what’s in store for me this afternoon?”
He bit it with a resounding crunch.
Lorabeth raised one eyebrow as though concerned that he was mocking her.
“You’ve convinced me,” he assured her. “Each task is important.”
He chewed and thought of the various wild animals he’d treated and set free, wondering how his part in their lives affected nature. He didn’t understand people who didn’t feel compassion for animals or their fellow man, but he could un
derstand Lorabeth’s passion for the small tasks she performed every day. Everyone needed to believe they were making a difference in the world, that there was a purpose and a function for their lives beyond just getting through this hour and this day.
“Ellie asked me to come by again later,” he said. His sister never asked much of him, but she wanted him to check on Lorabeth and the children.
“Why is it you don’t come for supper during the week?” Lorabeth asked out of the blue.
He shook his head as he considered her question.
“Ellie asks me. Sometimes I accept. I guess I figure the weeknights are their family time.”
“You are family.”
He shrugged.
“I’ll put a few more carrots in the pot.”
Ben wasn’t comfortable spending more time than necessary around Lorabeth, but if Ellie and Caleb needed him, he’d be here.
The rasp of the front doorbell caught their attention, and Lorabeth got up, wiping her hands on her apron. A moment later she returned.
“It’s a man looking for you.”
Ben strode through the hallway to the foyer where Matt Dearborn stood hat in hand, clearly uncomfortable in the Chaneys’ expensively furnished home.
“Matt,” Ben said.
“D’you have time to come by and look at my bay?
Pennie’s bloated and she’s not eating.”
“I’ll come right now,” Ben told him. “My other appointments can wait until later in the afternoon.”
“Much obliged, Doc,” the other man said with a look of relief.
Ben turned to find Lorabeth holding his hat. She extended it toward him.
He thanked her and followed Matt into the sunlight.
Late that afternoon, Ben finished his work at the Iverson ranch where he’d inoculated Pete Iverson’s yearlings and examined a mare with matted eyes. He’d applied salve and left a tube with Pete after showing him how to pull down the mare’s lid and squeeze a line of ointment into its eye once a day.
He mounted Titus and rode into town. The library was already closed as he rode past. He stopped for a few supplies at the mercantile. As a last thought, he asked Hazel Paulson for a couple scoops of jelly beans and tucked the bag into the pocket of his jacket after paying.
The Preacher’s Daughter Page 5
