by Linda Ford
❧
Trace watched until Mandy was out of sight then sat on the log and contemplated the day. He’d kissed her. He cared about her. . .a fact he wasn’t ready to welcome.
She had kissed him again after spouting off about a kiss meaning something special.
He leaned back, a smile on his lips. She obviously cared about him, or she wouldn’t have kissed him.
With a mutter of disgust, he sprang to his feet.
Cora stood close by, leaning over the tree stump that served as a table, scrubbing a baking pan. “Trace, what’s wrong?” Her words were shrill with worry.
“Nothing. At least nothing I can do anything about.” He wasn’t making a lick of sense.
Cora came to his side. “You’re upset about something.”
He couldn’t explain to her when he didn’t know himself what bothered him. Was he upset because Mandy cared about him? Or that he cared about her, and the idea scared him?
“Are you thinking about Mama and Papa?”
He wasn’t. He’d buried them and moved on. Driven not by sorrow, but by anger.
If he let go of his anger, would his parents’ deaths be in vain?
“Cora, I don’t even know what I’m thinking. I don’t want our mother and father to be forgotten as if their lives and deaths meant nothing. But—”
“What do you think they would want us to do? How would they want us to live?”
“I don’t know. I simply don’t know.”
“I miss them.” Cora sniffed back a sob.
Trace pulled her into his arms and patted her back. “I do, too.”
“I’m glad Mama didn’t see my scarred face though.”
Cora’s muffled words against his chest sent a shock through his insides. “Mama wouldn’t care. She’d love you just the same.”
“I don’t know. She used to say I was far prettier than she’d ever been. I think she would be disappointed I no longer am.”
Trace pushed her back to look into her eyes then at her burned cheek. He remembered it as fierce red and distorted. When had it started to fade? “Cora, come here.” He drew her away from the bench toward the tent, opened the trunk that held his belongings, and pulled out his shaving mirror. “Look at yourself.”
She shied away from the mirror and covered her cheek with her hand. “No. I’ve seen enough of it.”
“It’s been weeks since you last looked at it.” He held the mirror directly before her face.
She closed her eyes.
He shook her gently. “Cora, look at yourself.”
She squinted one eye and peeked at the mirror. Drawn perhaps by curiosity, she slowly opened both eyes and peered at her likeness, dropping her hand away from her face. She stared for a long time then looked at Trace. “It’s fading.”
“Yes, it is.” He squatted to face her. “Cora, Mama and Papa would not want you to think you are no longer beautiful. Because you are. I think they would want you to live a full life.”
She rocked her head back and forth. “I’m not sure if I can face people.”
They studied each other, a great ache consuming Trace’s insides. They had lost so much. More than parents. More than a home. More than Cora’s unmarred beauty.
They’d lost faith. In people. In life.
Perhaps even in God.
He tried to put his thoughts into words.
Cora nodded as she listened, her expression wavering between miserable agreement and fragile hope. “Do you think the scars inside us will fade in time like my burn?”
“I can’t say.”
“This Levi, the preacher man, do you suppose he could tell us?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you must talk to him.”
He chuckled. “Cora, when did you get so decisive? So bossy?”
She nodded her head like their mother did when she’d made a decision and would accept no argument. “Mandy makes me see how strong a woman can be. I want to be like her.”
He bolted to his feet. “Heaven forbid.”
But as he strode over to the house, intent on escape, Cora’s laughter followed.
His little sister was growing up. Perhaps the lessons she absorbed from watching Mandy would serve her well, make her grow strong.
He grinned. Mandy was strong, independent.
His smile flattened. She was also an idealist—especially when it came to matters of the heart. From what she and her sisters said, she hankered for a father who often left them on their own. He turned to stare at her twig house. Why would she be willing to give up her goal of persuading her pa to settle down here?
Or had she?
Hadn’t he learned what happens when people must choose between two loyalties? Friendship held a flickering candle to the strong light of family and obligations.
Where did that leave Trace?
He straightened his shoulders. He’d given his heart to a woman, trusted her, and she’d used his weakness to draw him away from his home. His absence made it possible for the Bushwhackers’ attack. How could he ever trust again?
ELEVEN
Trace’s self-constructed inner path grew more and more narrow by the day as Mandy worked at his side, ever cheerful, usually teasing, often amusing, and sometimes downright confrontational.
The house was about ready for a roof.
Would she stop visiting once it was finished?
The idea brought on a feeling of emptiness.
Mandy stood back, admiring the structure they had worked so hard to build. “It will be a fine house.”
“Good enough for Cora and me.” Why did his mind picture someone other than Cora sharing the rooms? Someone like Mandy?
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” she said.
“So it is. A day of rest.”
“And worship.” She turned to give him a serious look that unsettled every effort he’d made to push her away. “Trace, why don’t you come to church with me? You and Cora?”
Cora, listening nearby, said, “I told him he should go and talk to the preacher man.”
Mandy grinned. “There you go. Cora has a reason for you to talk to Levi.”
He didn’t bother to correct her. “I don’t have to go to church to talk to Levi, do I?”
“Wouldn’t hurt you none.”
He laughed. “You calling me a sinner?” He didn’t need her accusation to know he was—and the worst sort. Hadn’t Jesus said if he didn’t forgive, he couldn’t be forgiven? Or something like that? He couldn’t recall the exact words.
She grinned without apology. “We’re all sinners. That’s why Jesus came. That’s why we need to gather together and be reminded how to deal with the problem.”
Cora joined them and nudged Trace. “Go. Mama and Papa would want you to.”
He frowned at her. “Cora, you are spending too much time with Mandy and learning some of her underhanded tricks.”
“Me?” Mandy sputtered. “Underhanded tricks? You take that back.”
He didn’t know what she intended to do to him for his remark, but he didn’t plan to hang around to find out. He raced for the woods. She’d have to catch him to exact payment, and he didn’t intend to let her.
“Cora, help me catch him,” Mandy called, already hot on his heels. Then silence. Did he hear whispering? He edged around a tree to see what they were up to.
Mandy had her back to him, but the way their heads bent together, it was obvious the two of them planned something. Something that involved catching him.
Not if he could help it.
He slipped away, silent as a shadow, circling higher and then cutting down the hill to backtrack. He passed beneath them. Cora’s passage was unmistakable, the way she crunched over the pine needles. She was no hunter. He had to concentrate to hear Mandy, but after a moment he did. Both of them still followed his path.
He wondered if Mandy would be good enough to pick up his back trail.
A few minutes later he returned to the clearing and moved to the far edge, where he
hunkered out of sight behind some bushes. He made himself comfortable. After all, he might be there some time.
He leaned his head back against the trunk of a tree, his thoughts racing. Go to church? His anger and the resulting guilt would surely make him uncomfortable, but all this talk with Cora about what their parents would want had him reconsidering some of his decisions. They would expect their offspring to attend church. Even more, to live Christian lives. He might force himself to go. But he wouldn’t force Cora.
He sensed someone watching him. Not moving, careful not to give away any indication of his notice, he scoured the surrounding area thoroughly. Had to stifle a laugh of amusement as he made out Mandy pressed to a tree trunk, invisible to a more casual observer.
He wasn’t surprised she’d found him without giving away her approach. In fact, he expected it. But he intended to let her make the first move.
He tipped his head back, lowered his hat to shade his eyes, and pretended to sleep. All the while he watched her, saw how she studied him as if she wanted something from him. Or to give him something.
Her posture relaxed. She knew he’d seen her.
“Okay, I’ll go to church with you,” he said.
“Great. Cora,” she yelled, “he’s over here.”
Cora tripped through the woods, not at all concerned about how much racket she made.
“He said he’d go to church. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
Cora stopped still. She shot a look toward Trace so full of longing and aching it brought him to his feet. “Cora, come with me.”
Then she closed up like a locked door. “I couldn’t.”
How he hurt for the pain and isolation his younger sister endured.
Mandy slipped to his side. “One day she will realize people will care about her if she gives them a chance. In the meantime, I mean to be her friend.”
Trace reached for Mandy’s hand and squeezed it, welcoming her steadfastness.
Cora looked at their joined hands and grinned.
Trace couldn’t say who pulled away first, but he and Mandy sprang apart with a sudden need to return to the clearing.
❧
Sunday dawned clear and sunny—perfect for an outdoor service. Mandy had wondered more than once if Trace would truly come. But now she sat on the grassy slope with Trace at her side, waiting for the service to begin. He wore an especially fine white shirt and black trousers she’d never seen before. With a start, she wondered if he’d worn them to his parents’ funeral. She shifted her hand, intending to squeeze his and offer silent comfort. But they sat in plain view of a whole bunch of people, and even though they were outdoors, this was church.
Besides, what was she thinking? It seemed ever since she’d kissed him, her heart did strange things. Like give her this sudden urge to comfort him. Or the inner demand he attend church with her. So many other things, too, like dreaming about him at night. Often in her dreams they were sitting side by side under the stars, his arm around her, holding her close. She would tip her face to him, and he would kiss her. A couple of times, Glory had kicked her awake. Demanded to know why she laughed in her sleep.
It would take four Glorys and half a dozen strong men to pull the truth from her. Likely even then she wouldn’t confess.
Any more than she’d admit how longingly she looked at the almost-finished house and imagined cooking over a stove, sitting before the fire with Trace and reading to each other.
At last Levi stood, drawing her away from thoughts of sharing her life with Trace.
Levi welcomed everyone, opened in prayer, then announced a hymn. There were no hymn books, so they sang from memory. And no musical instruments. But Mandy enjoyed hearing the voices next to her. Mr. Phelps had a deep voice like a bullfrog. Joanna sang clear as a bell. Levi carried them all along with his strong voice. And Trace. . .
Mandy decided he must have the voice of an angel—a man angel, if there were such things. A solid, pleasantly mellow voice. She had to force her attention to remain on Levi while her errant, willful heart longed to look at Trace, meet his eyes, and join her voice to his as if there were no others present.
The hymn ended, and her heart knocked at her ribs. Such a demanding part of her body. She hadn’t noticed it till lately.
They sang three more hymns, Mandy’s enjoyment growing with each verse. Then Levi opened his Bible.
“Today I am reading from Matthew chapter five, verses one to twelve, what we commonly call the Beatitudes.”
Mandy leaned forward as he spoke on the blessings of doing things God’s way.
Could she possibly expect to be blessed when she constantly insisted on doing things her way? When she chafed at God for allowing Pa to abandon them?
The service ended. Many recognized Trace from last Sunday and crossed to his side to speak to him and thank him for rescuing the Murrays.
“How are they?” he asked one man.
“Fine. Temporarily living in the back of the office while they rebuild. Mrs. Murray says now she can have a house with a little more style.”
Mandy stayed close to him, proud to be his friend. Even if he wanted to hide Cora, there was no need for Trace to secret himself away from others.
He joined them again for dinner.
“Mandy made the dessert,” Glory announced as if she’d done it ’specially for Trace.
“It’s only a chocolate cake pudding.” She tried to find Glory’s ankle under the table, but Glory stayed out of the way and grinned with a great deal of triumph.
Trace tasted it. “Fantastic.”
Levi echoed his comment. “Maybe you could teach Glory to make it.” Which earned him an elbow to his ribs.
Unrepentant, he laughed.
Trace let out a deep-throated chuckle, and Mandy angled her body toward him. She quirked an eyebrow.
His eyes shone like summer sunshine. “I find you Buffalo Gals amusing”—he must have read her warning not to mock them—“in a purely delightful way.” He shifted his gaze to encompass the other sisters. “You’re all as strong as any woman I’ve ever met, and many a man. You’re adventuresome, hardworking, and not afraid of risks. Quite unlike the young women I knew back in Missouri. I admire you.” His eyes made their way back to Mandy and probed deep into her thoughts.
It felt as if the words were meant for her alone.
“Thank you,” Joanna and Glory said. “We try our best,” Glory added.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Levi added. “Though you forgot one important characteristic.”
Trace turned toward Levi, and Mandy turned her attention to him, too, with some reluctance.
“Yup,” Levi said. “You forgot wild and rebellious.” Which earned him another jab of Glory’s sharp elbow and a chuckle from Trace.
Mandy and Glory studied each other, plotting revenge.
“Oh, oh,” Levi said. “I’m going to pay for that.”
“Unless you can outrun them.” Trace’s voice rang with amusement.
“I’m not even going to try.” He leaned toward Glory and kissed her on the nose. “I don’t want to miss the fun.”
It didn’t take a genius to see Glory had forgotten any thoughts of payback.
Mandy couldn’t drum up much interest either.
They finished the meal and worked together to clean up the kitchen. Both Trace and Levi offered to help with supper preparations; then they all escaped to the sun-filled yard.
“We’re going to check on the folks at the mission.” Although the building wasn’t finished, Levi had taken in an injured man and his very pregnant wife. “Anyone want to come along?” Levi asked.
Joanna shook her head. “I have a few things I want to do on my own.” She emphasized the last two words as if indicating she would be relieved to be free of them all.
Mandy studied her eldest sister as tendrils of worry and fear threaded through her heart. “Are you getting tired of us hanging about?”
“Mandy, I didn’t mean anything except I don
’t mind being here on my own. Now off you go, and enjoy the afternoon.” She waved them away.
Trace said he wouldn’t mind seeing the mission. Mandy remembered Cora wanted him to talk to Levi about some-thing. But she wanted to show Trace some of the special spots around Bonners Ferry. “We’ll be along in a bit.”
Glory planted herself in front of Mandy, ready to tease her.
But before she could spit the words out, Levi grabbed her hand. “Come on, Glory.” Glory jerked back, unwilling to give up her plan so quickly.
“Let it go,” Levi said.
Glory squinted at Mandy then allowed Levi to lead her away.
Finally Trace and Mandy were alone except for those going about their business, unmindful of the pair. And Mandy couldn’t decide where to look. Certainly not at him. What if he saw the burst of joy blaze across her face?
“Come on,” she murmured, hurrying in the general direction of the ferry.
“Aren’t we going with Levi and Glory?”
“In a roundabout way. I want to show you something first. Is that okay?” She finally turned, finally met his gaze. Almost wished she hadn’t. But not quite. She could swim in the blue of his eyes, drown in the fondness she saw. . .or let herself think she saw.
They walked side by side past the scattered buildings at this end of town. She led him up a rocky path until they met up with the narrow stream and stopped at its bank. The water chattered noisily across rocks. She wanted to say something about how she found the noise of the water both cheering and calming. But she couldn’t find the words. So she let him look and listen without comment.
“The sound of running water is hypnotizing.” His voice was all soft and mellow.
“I like it.”
“Me, too.” He reached for her hand. “Me, too.”
She wasn’t certain if he still referred to the running water. And didn’t care. Being here, sharing her love of nature, feeling at peace with herself and this man—it was all that mattered at the moment.
“Let’s keep climbing.” She indicated the path by the stream, and they moved upward, their feet padding softly on the leafy ground, the sun warming them despite the canopy of trees crowding toward the stream. In many places the passage was too narrow to walk side by side, and he led the way. As soon as the path widened, he waited for her and again took her hand.
