“I was thrown from my horse and knocked unconscious. My first memory when I woke up in a Sioux village was Yellow Bird’s face leaning over me, her black hair loose and brushing against my face. It took me minutes to realize she wasn’t a dream.”
His voice faded as he became lost in thought. Hope waited in the silence until he remembered she was there and continued.
“I stayed longer than I needed to. And soon I decided not to leave at all. The Sioux often adopt captives into the tribe and even though I wasn’t technically a prisoner, I became one of the tribe. Those were the happiest days of my life. In a few months, I had enough ponies to offer Yellow Bird’s father an extravagant bride price. He accepted, and Yellow Bird became my wife. She was with child very soon.” His voice choked.
Sensing that this was the first time he’d ever opened up about this, Hope pushed aside her own hurt that she was competing with a dead woman for his affection. She wasn’t sure she’d ever win his heart, but for certain, Andy would never love her until he was free of Yellow Bird’s memory.
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. He grabbed it as though taking hold of a life preserver. She winced as he clung to her.
“Yellow Bird was so happy to be carrying our child. She knew in her heart that she carried a girl. We haggled over names. I teased her by calling the baby Becky and Mary and Elizabeth. But she insisted there was no meaning in such common white names. And that we would decide what to call her after we knew her.”
He gathered a ragged breath and gripped Hope’s hand tighter. “But we never got to know her. A few months into the pregnancy, Yellow Bird started to bleed. It happened so fast. One minute she was grinning and sitting on my lap, tickling my chin. The next she was doubled over and three hours later she was dead. And so was our tiny baby girl. Sh–she was barely the size of my hand.”
Tears thickened Hope’s throat. She swallowed hard. “Oh, Andy. I’m so sorry.”
“Her family wanted me to stay in the village. But I couldn’t. Everything reminded me of her. The only way I could get relief was from a bottle. And that’s what I did. I gambled and drank. I’d borrow money to gamble, and then made back more than I borrowed. Until my luck ran out a couple of years ago.
“The way you found me in the alley—that’s the way I’d been living for two years. I’ve been beat up more times than I can count for owing money. I thought this time my luck had finally run out for good. I was ready to be put out of my misery. I wanted to join my wife and daughter, wherever they were. But you saved me and here we are.”
Hope wasn’t sure how to respond. She recalled his misery when he’d discovered he wasn’t dead. Ridiculously, she almost felt as though she should apologize for saving him. But of course, she didn’t. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Andy. I’m honored you trusted me with it.”
“Thank you for listening.” He slid his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m sorry I tried to take liberties. I’ll get down on the floor.”
“Wait a little while, Andy. It makes a lot more sense for you to lie up here while we talk. I. . .I was hoping you’d tell me about the plans for the house. How are things coming along?”
Her eyes had adjusted to the dark room and she made out his smile.
“We cut down several trees today. Hank and Michael think we can start building next week. We hope to get a couple
of main rooms up and a roof before the first real winter storm hits.”
They discussed the building plans until long into the night. Finally, during a lull in the conversation, Andy’s snoring alerted her to the fact that he’d fallen asleep. Hope was about to ease out of bed when the door opened. Betsy slipped inside. “Are you awake, Ma?”
Alarm shot through Hope. What would the little girl think of seeing Andy in her bed? Heat seared her cheeks. But there was nothing she could do about it now.
“I’m over here, Bets. What’s wrong?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“Okay. Keep your voice down so you don’t wake Andy.”
The child nodded, but didn’t seem to notice one way or another where Andy was sleeping. Hope marveled. Things were so simple for children. Married people shared a bed and that was that. They didn’t think beyond the obvious.
Betsy knelt beside Hope’s bed. Hope turned onto her side, much as she had when listening to Andy, and once again rested her head on her palm. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Do you know about Jesus, Ma?”
“You mean in the Bible?”
Betsy nodded.
“I suppose I do, honey. You know I’ve been believing in God ever since he made Gregory all well.”
The little girl shook her head impatiently, almost frantically. “It’s not enough just to believe in God. You have to believe that Jesus is His Son.”
“Where did you hear that, honey?”
Hope had a rudimentary knowledge of religious beliefs from her association with the wagon train folks. But throughout her growingup years, her father had seen to it that her primary playmates were children of intellectuals who, at best, believed only in the existence of a powerful being. Religion was scoffed at, Jesus considered a myth. Hope intended to procure a copy of the Bible at the earliest opportunity so that she might study it for herself.
“Are you listening, Ma?”
Betsy’s voice snapped her back to the present. “I’m sorry, baby. Yes, I’m here.”
“Aimee told me tonight all about Jesus.” Tears quivered in Betsy’s voice. “Ma, He died because I’m a sinner.”
Taking Betsy’s hand, Hope looked the girl square in the eye. “Sweetheart, you are not a sinner. You’re a sweet little girl.” Anger flared at Aimee, though the child was obviously twisting something she’d been taught. Parents should be more careful what they said in front of their children.
“Ma, we are all sinners. That’s why Jesus had to die.”
“Sweetie, I know Aimee believes that, but sinners are people that steal or kill people. Not folks like us and certainly not little girls like you.” She smiled and smoothed Betsy’s hair away from her face. “Does that make you feel better?”
The little girl flung Hope’s hand away and stood. “Ma!”
“Shh, Betsy, come back here and keep your voice down. Do you want to wake Andy?”
Betsy obeyed. “Ma, you have to listen to me. The Bible says we are all sinners. Only the blood of Jesus can wash us clean.”
“Oh, Betsy, really, blood? What have you two girls been talking about?”
“Mama, please.” Tears flowed in earnest now, and Betsy took Hope’s hand in both of her little ones. “Please listen to me.”
“All right, sweetheart.” Hope made a mental note to clear this whole thing up with Miss Hannah in the morning.
Betsy drew a shaky breath. “Aimee said only accepting what Jesus did on the cross could make us acceptable to go to heaven. Even if you’re a good person, unless you understand the sacrifice God’s only Son made then you aren’t saved.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing, Bets.”
“I know, but Ma, when she was talking, my heart started beating really fast. Like now. And I just couldn’t stop crying, thinking about the nails hammered in Jesus’ hands and feet.”
“Oh, baby, don’t think about it, if it makes you cry. It’s just a story.”
“No! Ma, it’s the truth. You know how you can always tell when Billy and me is lying?”
“Yes. But that’s—”
“I just knew that Aimee was telling me the truth. And then she read to me out of her Bible. All about how He healed people and I thought about Gregory. Jesus healed him, Mama. Jesus did it, and we didn’t even know He died for us. He just healed Greg because we asked Him to.”
The conviction in Betsy’s voice couldn’t be denied. The child was a believer through and through. But what if it was all a myth like Father had always maintained? What if Greg had simply beaten the illness on his own? The very thought
felt disloyal.
She thought of her studies. What of Pascal’s wager? The philosopher had argued against his opponents that believed there was no God. Pascal responded that it was better to go ahead and believe in God. Because if there was no God and you believed anyway, at the end of your life, there would be no repercussions for your disbelief. If, on the other hand, you didn’t believe and discovered after you died that indeed there was a God all along, then you were damned for your disbelief.
Hope had taken that wager to heart as a young girl and had allowed herself a rudimentary faith in God. Though the strength of her belief had varied over the years. Now she was faced with something different. This wasn’t a vague belief in a distant God, this was a gutwrenching, lifealtering conviction. Something she’d always sworn never to adhere to or allow in her children.
“Betsy. Don’t you remember the reverend on the wagon train?”
“Yes.”
“If this were true, don’t you think he would have told you about Jesus?”
“I think he thought we knew. He used to mention Jesus and the cross, but I never understood what he meant. And I didn’t want to make him feel bad by telling him I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
Releasing a heavy sigh, Hope felt compassion well up for her daughter. How young to be so conflicted. She was so glad her father had kept her away from religion until she was old enough to make up her own mind.
“Honey, I don’t want you to listen to Aimee about this anymore, all right? Tomorrow we’ll discuss it with Miss Hannah.”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow. I have to do it now.”
Hope frowned. “Do what?”
“Pray to ask Jesus in my heart.”
“Ask Jesus into your heart? What on earth does that mean?”
“Aimee said it means that you tell Him you believe who Jesus is and you tell Him you’re sorry for all of your sins. And then you ask Him to wash you clean and you get to start all over with no sin.”
Hope gave her daughter an indulgent smile. “That sounds a little like magic.”
“Not magic, Mama. A miracle.”
The hair on the back of Hope’s neck stood up at the awe in her daughter’s voice.
“I can’t wait another minute to pray. But I had to come tell you about it, too. Will you pray with me?”
“Oh, Bets. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Just say you will.”
Hope could not deny her daughter, but neither could she pretend to embrace this new idea of asking Jesus into one’s heart. It sounded a little strange.
“Tell you what. I will bow my head just like I do before we eat, okay? And you pray whatever you want to pray.”
“Oh, I wanted you to ask Jesus to come into your heart, too.”
“I can’t do that. This idea is too new to me. But I promise I will purchase a Bible soon, and I’ll keep an open mind while
I read it. Fair enough?”
Betsy gave a hesitant nod. “Promise you’ll get one tomorrow?”
“I’ll try. Are you ready to pray your prayer now?”
“Yes.”
Betsy bowed her head. “Dear God. Aimee says I’m a sinner. And I know she’s telling the truth because I felt it in my stomach when she said it. But she said you sent Jesus and He died on the cross so that I don’t have to go to the place where bad people go.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m not allowed to say the name of the place bad people go, and I didn’t think You’d want me starting off by disobeying Ma.”
Hope smiled through tears. She couldn’t help herself. Betsy’s simple, wholesome belief in what she was saying filled her with a sense of awe.
“I know I done a lot of bad things. There are so many I can’t remember them, but Aimee said I don’t have to list them, just have to ask You to forgive them. So that’s what I’m doing. Please make me good. Jesus, I never knew until tonight that You died for me.” Her voice cracked. “B–but now that I do, I. . .I have to thank you. I wish You were down here in person so I could hug You to show you how much I love You. But I know You feel it. Just like I do right now. I. . .I didn’t ask You yet, but I think You live in my heart now because I feel different. Oh, thank You, Jesus. Amen.”
Hope opened her eyes and stared at her daughter.
“Can you tell I’m different, Ma?”
“I. . .Well, Bets, not really.”
“You will.”
“How do you know you’re different? What if it didn’t take?”
“Aimee says we have to accept these things by faith. And that if we believe we’re truly different, we’ll start acting different.”
“I think you’re pretty sweet just the way you are, so don’t act too differently, okay?”
Betsy giggled. “I have to go wake up Aimee and tell her.”
“Don’t you think you should wait until morning?”
“I can’t.”
The little girl jumped to her feet and tippytoe ran to the door.
“ ’Night, Ma.”
“ ’Night.”
Hope lay back down, bewildered by what had just transpired.
Closing her eyes, she thought fleetingly that she should perhaps retire to the pallet, but her weary body refused to move.
She listened to the sound of distant thunder as the storm finally moved away. A gentle rain still tapped the window, and the wind sifted through the branches outside.
As she sank into the first phase of sleep, she was almost certain she heard the wind whispering, “Only believe.”
She wanted to open her eyes, to see if someone had spoken to her or if the wind outside had caused her ears to play tricks on her. But her eyes were too heavy. Finally, she surrendered to sleep.
Only believe.
Fourteen
Andy stood inside the door of the home he’d built for Hope. His gaze took in the wooden rocker he’d crafted with his own hands, the table with two benches for the children and two chairs, one at each end. He’d worked on the furniture as a surprise. He’d built a bed frame for her, and with Ma’s help, he’d stuffed a mattress.
Betsy, too, had a bed. The boys would sleep on pallets in the loft until he could build the other bed frames. Taking the time to make furniture had extended their stay at Michael’s for two extra weeks, but Andy resisted the idea of bringing Hope to an empty house.
Lately, he could sense that she was getting antsy, and he had begun running out of excuses as to why she couldn’t come see the cabin. And, though he still worked hard and took some satisfaction in knowing Hope would have her own home, the joy and anticipation he’d expected to feel were glaringly absent. And he knew why. It had all started a month ago. When Betsy had tiptoed into their bedroom and proclaimed herself a sinner.
The Bible says we are all sinners. Only the blood of Jesus can wash us clean.
For weeks, those words had haunted Andy. They pounded into his brain with every swing of the ax, every bang of the hammer. Every waking moment.
In his dreams, Jesus, His eyes filled with love and compassion, beckoned with nailscarred hands. Andy’s dreamlike self tried to reach Him, but always stopped short of touching the hands. If he could only reach Jesus, Andy knew his restlessness would be over.
But he always awoke, drenched in sweat and tears and feeling emptier than he’d ever felt in his life. More than empty, he felt lost.
He wished he’d never eavesdropped on the conversation between Hope and Betsy that night. Had Hope known he was awake, she would have taken Betsy in the other room so as not to disturb him. But he’d been mesmerized by the wonder of the girl’s discovery of things Andy had known from childhood. He’d allowed his heart to cry out for peace and with the acknowledgement of that longing, his faith had resurfaced.
But believing in God again opened another door—the feeling that he didn’t—nor could he ever—measure up. To deny the existence of a Holy God was to excuse his behavior, no matter how despicable. There was simply nothing to aspire to. As a
youngster, he’d learned that was the easier road. The narrow road Ma had always talked about seemed too hard. Andy never could quite get it right.
Because of that failure, he had always felt like the outsider in his family. Michael was the responsible one. Hank, the holy one. Andy had found his place as the black sheep, the troublemaker, the one who broke his mother’s heart.
“I think that about does it.” The sound of Michael’s voice pulled Andy from his brooding.
“I guess so.”
“I reckon Hope will be glad to have her own home.”
Andy gave him a sharp glance. “You mean you’re ready for us to move on?”
A frown creased Michael’s brow. “No, that’s not what I said. I just imagine your wife is ready to set up housekeeping for herself. You know how women are.”
Knowing he owed his brother an apology didn’t sit well with Andy. He scowled. “You don’t know Hope. She’s not like most women. She’s been a real trooper—on the trail and since we’ve been staying with you.”
Michael gave a curt nod and gathered a breath. Andy could tell he was trying to keep his temper in check, but he didn’t care. He was in no mood to get along.
“Anyway, we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”
“You’re not in my hair,” Michael replied through gritted teeth. “And you’re welcome to stay all winter if you want.”
“I’m not such a freeloader that I’d take advantage of your hospitality any longer than necessary. So just get off your high horse.”
Taking up his hammer and saw, Michael stared at Andy for a moment. “I can see you’re spoiling for a fight, and I’m not about to go along with that.”
Andy gave a short laugh. “Probably just as well if you know what’s good for you.”
Emitting a frustrated growl, Michael dropped the tools. “What’s bothering you, Andy? I thought you’d be happy now that the house is ready and the furniture is finished. You wanted to surprise Hope. And just when you’re about to, you’re acting like someone did you wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing you or anyone can fix, that is.” He swiped at the sweat on his brow. And dropped onto the porch.
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