Mandy and the Missouri Man

by Linda Ford

  Mandy discovered something satisfying, and at the same time frightening, about the clasp of her hand in his. It made her want things she thought only Pa could give—home, belonging, and so much more.

  In a short time they reached a wider spot where the water had spread into a pool. “This is my favorite place.” She led him to a fallen tree where she often sat to watch the animals tiptoe in for water. “I’ve seen so many animals. I never shoot anything here. Seems the animals deserve to know this place is theirs.”

  They sat side by side, the quiet sifting into her thoughts, her soul. She wondered if he felt the same blessed peace. Her hand lay in his.

  He shifted. “Mandy, what did you think of the sermon?”

  She gathered her impressions into some sort of order. “I know I should trust God more. Like when I get upset and sad because I miss Pa. I wonder why God doesn’t stop him and make him come back and live with us.”

  Trace threaded his fingers between hers and curled his over the top, protectively—or so she let herself think. “I suppose it’s because God doesn’t force us to do anything.”

  “But He could stop Pa, couldn’t He?”

  “He has the power to do so, of course. But not the will.”

  She understood, but. . . “Sometimes it’s hard to trust God.”

  He examined each of her fingers then stared at the shadowed water. “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be shown mercy.”

  “That’s one of the Beatitudes Levi read, isn’t it?”

  She felt Trace’s tension. Knew something about the words bothered him.

  “I don’t know if I can show mercy.”

  “To whom?”

  “I told you my parents died in a fire.” His voice seemed heavy with sorrow.

  “Yes.” She had nothing to offer by way of comfort but her quiet presence.

  “What I didn’t tell you was the fire was deliberately set.”

  She gasped. “They were murdered?” A shudder raced through her. “That’s terrible.”

  He gripped her hand so hard her fingers hurt, but she didn’t pull away. “My best friend was one of those who did it.”

  She could feel his pain like sharp needles all over her body. “That’s why you don’t trust people.”

  He nodded. His shoulders slumped forward the way Cora’s often did.

  “Trace, I’m so sorry.” She rubbed his back, trying to soothe him like Joanna did for her. “Why would your friend do that?”

  “Because he wasn’t really a friend.” Bitterness edged each word.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate, but she had no others to offer.

  “Just because my father was a hero in the Mexican-American War.”

  Mandy didn’t see how that constituted a reason, but it seemed to make sense for Trace.

  “Everyone assumed he was Unionist because of that. He did his best to stay out of the Civil War. Said he’d seen enough fighting to last ten lifetimes. Said problems should be dealt with by negotiations, not by killing each other.”

  The pain pouring out with each word scraped at the inside of Mandy’s heart until she wondered it wasn’t in shreds.

  “My friend”—he made the term sound positively hateful—“joined the Bushwhackers for the Confederates. As if it made running with a bunch of lawless renegades somehow more legitimate. They loot, burn, and take advantage of defenseless women. They honor no law, nor any person’s rights apart from their own.” He spit out each word like the pit from a sour fruit.

  She continued to rub his back, though she ached to do so much more. Pull him into her arms and hold him tight. But no amount of comfort she offered would erase the pain from his soul.

  Only time and God’s love could do that. Not something she’d given a lot of thought to until this moment. But seeing Trace’s misery, knowing how it felt to be mortally disappointed by others whether a close friend or a pa, she knew healing lay outside human resources.

  “I knew a girl back then. Annabelle Jones. I thought she had some regard for me. But it was all pretend. Austin—the man I thought was my friend—got Annabelle to lure me away from our house. While I was gone, they set it afire. My mother and father were resting and died on their bed.”

  His body shuddered.

  Mandy pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “Cora?” she whispered.

  “I heard people rushing to fight the fire. Didn’t even consider it might be my own home. Annabelle tried to hold me back. ‘It’s too late,’ she said. But I wouldn’t be stopped. Even when men tried to prevent me from going in, I pushed them aside. I found Cora trying to get to the door and pulled her to safety. She was burned. But you know that. Oh, Mandy. It was awful. How will I ever forget?” He faced her, his eyes brimming with sorrow.

  Although her heart gathered up his pain until every pulse hurt, she did not shrink from meeting his gaze. She hoped he could read her unspoken thoughts of comfort and caring.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and with a muffled groan pulled her to his chest. “Mandy.” That was all he said, her name a sound of despair.

  She edged her arms around him and held him close. Sharing his sorrow as best she could.

  He shuddered again then his breathing evened out. “Mandy.” This time her name carried something more.

  She couldn’t let herself think what.

  His arms tightened. “I cannot forgive them. I cannot show mercy.”

  What she heard was not unforgiveness but lostness. She had no words for him on either subject, but she recognized them as her own. She often felt that sense of lostness about her pa. Only she’d never truly recognized it. Needing guidance, she offered up a tentative prayer. God, I don’t often come to You for anything, but Trace needs Your help today. She should try and get him to walk with her toward the mission. Levi could help him.

  But he showed no sign of releasing her, and she didn’t intend to free herself.

  “I wish I could forget the whole thing. My so-called friends, the way the community turned a blind eye to the fact two murders had been committed. . .everything. But I can’t.”

  She offered up another silent prayer. Trace must find a way to forgive those dreadful people, or his own soul would suffer. “The trouble with bitterness is it hurts the man who carries it. Not the person to whom it is directed. It’s like drinking poison.”

  “I’m learning that. But I don’t see any way out of it.”

  She edged back to look into his face. “What if this Austin fellow repented of what he’d done? Could you forgive him then?”

  He searched her gaze. “I simply don’t know.”

  “What if”—she could barely bring the name to her lips—“Annabelle came to you and said she was sorry?”

  She felt his careful consideration of her question. Would he decide to return and explore this possibility? If he did, she could have the house. Not even a flicker of joy accompanied the thought, because she didn’t want it. She wanted Trace. Wanted him to stay here. Live here.

  “I think I can forget Annabelle’s part in this treachery. She is a silly girl who doesn’t know what she wants. Likely she’ll marry someone who appreciates her charm and simplicity.”

  Mandy’s heart lifted with relief.

  “But Austin and I grew up together. I always thought we would stand shoulder to shoulder in any challenge and fight side by side to the end.”

  Mandy tried to imagine how she’d feel if Glory or Joanna had betrayed her. Couldn’t picture it. But even the thought made her insides feel like they’d been melted and poured out.

  “How do I forgive and forget?”

  “I don’t have the answers. Maybe Levi does.”

  But neither of them made a move toward resuming their journey. Instead, they shifted to contemplate the pond and their thoughts. Trace’s arm remained across her shoulders, and she clutched his other hand.

  “It’s peaceful here,” Trace said after a bit. “The troubles of the world seem far away.”

&n
bsp; “That’s why it’s my favorite spot.”

  He caught her chin and tipped her face toward him. “What troubles do you have, Mandy?”

  She hesitated, deciding to trust him just as he had trusted her. “I struggle with forgiveness, too. It’s nothing like what you have to deal with, but I’m often angry with Pa for leaving us.” She wondered if he heard the quiver in her voice. “It’s something I only recently realized. I always believed what Glory said. . . . I was trying to make him into an ideal parent. But it’s far more than that.” She sat up and faced him, finding courage in the steady way he regarded her. “I’m angry at him.”

  Trace nodded. “Sometimes it’s hard to forgive.”

  “But not impossible.”

  “How is it possible? Tell me. I want to know.”

  How could she explain when she didn’t understand it herself? “I think it has something to do with allowing a different feeling to control me.”

  “Like what?”

  Like my growing feelings for you. Trace, I think I love you. But she couldn’t say the words. Feared that doing so would put a vast gulf between them. “Maybe being in competition with you over building our houses made it possible to forget my anger. It lost its hold on me.” She concentrated on the trees beyond his ear, unwilling to meet his gaze directly, lest he guess the truth.

  He chuckled. “I, too, forgot to be angry while you were around building your twig house.”

  She laughed along with him, wondering what he felt about her.

  A duck quacked across the pond, her gaggle of ducklings paddling after her.

  With a sigh of regret, Mandy realized how long they’d lingered. “Glory will come looking for us any minute.”

  “Let’s be on our way.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  Hand in hand, they walked back to the roadway and within minutes reached the mission.

  Mandy hadn’t been to visit in some time, and the amount of work accomplished stunned her. The main building was almost finished. “You two have been busy.”

  “We’ve had lots of help,” Levi said. “It will soon be ready. I can hardly wait.”

  But the way his eyes rested on Glory, bringing a pink blush to her cheeks, Mandy knew his impatience was more about wanting to marry than wanting to open the mission.

  She didn’t envy her sister’s happiness, but would she ever know the same? She didn’t dare look at Trace nor any of the others for fear they could read her longing.

  TWELVE

  Trace accompanied Levi on a tour of the frame construction. Large enough to house a number of people in need of care, with living quarters for Levi and Glory as well. Trace heard the explanation with half his attention.

  Something had happened between himself and Mandy as he confessed his feelings about the incident that took his parents’ lives. Something warm and wonderful and full of promises for the future. But had she felt it, too?

  He almost hoped she hadn’t, because until he could get rid of his bitterness toward Austin and the others—a bitterness that boiled over toward God—he could not offer her unfettered love.

  They left the building and walked across the yard until they came to a corral of horses.

  “These are the animals Glory works with, healing abused and neglected horses.”

  “Does a horse always recover from such things?”

  “With enough kindness. Glory is willing to give what it takes.”

  “Can people recover from similar misfortunes or treachery or. . .” He didn’t know what he wanted to ask.

  Levi faced him. “Are we talking about something specific, or just general conversation?”

  “Do you have time to listen to my tale of woe?”

  “Always.” They leaned against the top board of the fence as Trace retold his story.

  “Can a man forgive such things?” Trace gripped the railing, hoping for an answer but unable to see a way. “Can I trust a God who allowed it? Can I ever love again after experiencing such betrayal at the hands of people I considered friends?”

  “The short answer is yes. But I think you know that. What you really want to know is how.”

  “Exactly.”

  Levi took a deep breath, watching a gray mare canter around the fence. “Again, the short answer is by trusting God. But that’s too simplistic. Perhaps I should tell you my own experience. My brother and I were orphaned as youngsters and went to live with my grandparents, who were very strict. My brother refused to adjust. He threw their rules over his shoulder and left. But he wasn’t content with walking away from their rules. He also ignored man-made rules and God’s rules and ended up in prison, where he is even now.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”

  “It is.” Levi turned to Trace, studying him. “But my reaction was to bargain with God. Tell Him if I served him as a preacher, then He was obligated to turn Matt around. I made a vow that almost cost me a chance for life with Glory. In hindsight, I can’t imagine how I could have even thought God wanted me to do such a thing.”

  Trace wondered what this story had to do with him.

  “My whole point is this—God is not responsible for the choices people make, but He is faithful to what He has promised.”

  Trace tried to think of a promise to cover the betrayal of friends, the murder of his parents, and the anger in his heart. He shook his head.

  “I don’t have any cure-all answer for you.” Levi stared into the distance. “But remember Jesus was betrayed, murdered, and yet allowed it so He could provide salvation for us all. ‘With God all things are possible.’ Even impossible things like forgiveness.”

  Trace’s jaw clenched. “My friends are responsible for murder.”

  “I agree. But justice will prevail. If not in this life then in the next.”

  “That hardly seems like justice.”

  “God is never early and never late.”

  Glory called out an invitation for refreshments, and the conversation ended. They joined the sisters and visited over tea and cake.

  Mandy glanced at the position of the sun. “We need to get back and help Joanna.”

  “And I need to get back to Cora,” Trace said. He and Mandy headed down the trail, leaving Glory to say her good-byes.

  Mandy barely waited until they were out of earshot to speak. “Did Levi say anything helpful?”

  He wished he could assure her that, thanks to Levi, all his problems were gone, but he couldn’t. “He said, ‘With God all things are possible.’ I haven’t figured out how that helps me. I guess it doesn’t.”

  “But maybe it will. Seems it’s impossible for us to forgive some things. Maybe only God can forgive.”

  “But who is He to forgive—Austin, for his treachery, or me for not forgiving Austin?”

  Mandy stopped in front of him, preventing him from continuing. She faced him. “Why not both?”

  “Austin doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

  “True. But if he repented?”

  “Mandy, it makes me angry to think he can just say sorry and be done with it. That’s not fair.”

  “I suppose not.” She studied the sky for a moment as if seeking answers from above. “But when you think about it, all of us are undeserving of God’s forgiveness.” Her gaze returned to his, warm and gentle. “We don’t deserve His love, but He gives it anyway.”

  He couldn’t resist the look of peace on her face and cupped his hand to the back of her head. “Mandy, if I were free to love. . .” Why go on when he wasn’t?

  “Why aren’t you? You still in love with Annabelle?”

  “No.” He scowled. “I never loved her.”

  “Then what’s keeping you from loving?”

  Did she have any idea how appealing she looked as she probed his heart? Was she suggesting she loved him?

  “Mandy, how can I love freely when my heart is consumed by bitterness? Hate? Hate has the power to poison love. I don’t think there is room for both. Until I can de
al with it, I cannot offer my love.” He should break away, put distance between them, but she clamped her hands to his shoulders and smiled so sweetly and gently his heart threatened to melt. “When I sort this out. . .” His throat had grown so tight his words came out husky. He could speak no promises, but he could let her get a glimpse of the love in his heart.

  He bent and kissed her, breathing in her wildflower scent until he could barely think. But he must think. He must be rational. Until there was nothing in his heart competing with his love for her. He slowly lifted his head.

  Her eyes were dark pools of emotion. She opened her mouth, and he feared she would demand he speak the words his kiss hinted at. He could not. Before she could say anything, he took her hand and continued down the trail.

  ❧

  Mandy knew Trace’s kiss was a silent promise of love. But he feared what lay in his heart. Who could blame him for his bitterness? Why did such awful things happen?

  As Levi often said, it was easy to blame God for what man was responsible for. She could do nothing more than pray for Trace to find healing. And continue to show her love for him.

  But he sure knew how to make it difficult.

  The next morning she raced through her chores at the stopping house and hurried up the trail.

  Perhaps by now he’d sorted out his feelings and was ready to move on.

  She stepped into the clearing and halted. Cora huddled by the fire, sobbing. Trace knelt beside her.

  Mandy rushed to them. “What’s wrong?” She squatted beside Cora and rubbed her back. “Cora, what happened?”

  Cora sobbed harder, unable to speak.

  Mandy hadn’t allowed herself to look directly at Trace yet and steeled herself to meet his gaze. She’d hoped for signs of love but saw only raw anger. She asked her question again, directing it this time at Trace.

  He sprang to his feet, shoved his hand through his hair, strode three feet away, then turned. “Some young fella saw the smoke from our campfire and thought he’d pay a neighborly visit. No one invited him, but I suppose it’s a free country.” He reeled about and walked the same three feet, spun around, and stomped back to his original spot. “He saunters in here all friendly. Asks if he can join us for breakfast. I tried to shoo him off, but he saw Cora at the fire and wouldn’t pay any heed to me.”