Texas Angel, 2-in-1

by Judith Pella

  “You’ve said yourself, Reverend—”

  “I know what I have said!” he snapped. “And now I am saying that sometimes there are extenuating circumstances.”

  “That’s fine when they’re your circumstances, ain’t it?”

  Benjamin gasped in a breath, losing his patience once more. “If that’s all you have to say, sir, you may leave!”

  “Oh, I’ll leave all right! But you ain’t heard the last of this, Reverend." The man let the word roll off his tongue as poison. “Folks expect their minister to be at least as holy as he expects them to be.” The man strode to his horse, mounted, and gripped the reins in his hand. But before he turned to ride away, he added, “I’ll say my own words over my father. Reckon that’ll do as well as any false preacher’s.”

  Benjamin didn’t know whether to hurl protests at the man or to applaud his wisdom. He also wasn’t certain if he would have read a funeral service if invited. His doubts had begun with his recoiling every time Elise called him Reverend. A revulsion grew within himself, as if the word were an imprecation. To hear it actually leveled at him in that manner by the visitor brought it painfully back to Benjamin that he was indeed the vilest of all sinners, the lowest of all men, not fit to carry the banner of God. If further proof was needed of this, all he had to do was recall the scene in the yard before the man rode up. He had topped even his penchant for selfishness by using Elise, taking her gesture of kindness and turning it into something far from her pure intentions.

  He returned to the cabin. Isabel and Leah were squabbling over a toy while Oliver was crying in his cradle, reminding Benjamin he still had no milk for the child. Elise was rubbing some kind of poultice on Hannah.

  She looked up, smiling wanly. “Life does go on, doesn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” He chewed his lip, wanting to do anything but confront his behavior, but confront it he would. “I’m sorry, Elise.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. That man was insufferable.”

  “But you can’t argue with the fact that I deserved it.”

  She gave a depreciatory shrug. “I shudder to think what would happen if we all got what we deserved.”

  “Nevertheless, I should never have . . . touched you.”

  “Seems I touched you first.”

  “You know what I mean.” He paused, thinking perhaps she had noticed nothing. After all, what were a few kisses on the head to her?

  “I know that you were in great grief, Benjamin. I know what happened meant nothing beyond that.” She gave a forced chuckle. “Though I am sure your visitor got an eyeful.”

  “It’s not funny,” he insisted.

  But her chuckle turned into a giggle. “I know, but . . .” she couldn’t seem to control her sudden mirth. “I can’t help but picture the look on his pinched little face if he knew the truth about me.”

  “And you are laughing?”

  She pursed her lips together in an unsuccessful attempt to stop another giggle. “Sometimes laughing is all one can do.”

  He smiled. “I suppose it would have been an interesting sight.” The man’s dirty little mind would have absolutely exploded if he had known. A chuckle escaped Benjamin’s lips. “Had he a pillory he would have clamped me firmly within it.” Another snicker erupted. It wasn’t funny at all, but as his grief a half hour ago had consumed him, laughter now did the same. No, it wasn’t funny, but he clung to the release of humor as he had to the comfort of a woman.

  “He’ll have you excommunicated, Benjamin Sinclair!”

  “For a hug!”

  “Even you would have forgiven a hug.” Her laughter continued to bubble.

  “Oh no, I wouldn’t!” He howled. “I was the king of insufferable wretches.”

  “King, eh? I always did think you had a rather high opinion of yourself.” Her eyes glittered as she waggled a finger dripping with poultice at him.

  “You don’t know the half of it.” He wiped a sleeve at the corner of his eyes now brimming with tears of laughter.

  “I think I do.” She giggled again. “Why, you looked rather like your visitor when I saw you on the ship that time pointing a finger at me.”

  “Dear God! Was that really me?” He sobered suddenly. “I was so very wrong that day.”

  “No, you weren’t.” She, too, sobered, though her eyes still sparkled as if she didn’t want to let go of the pleasant moment completely. “I should have been ashamed of myself. I am ashamed.”

  “I had no right to accuse you, especially since I could not see your heart.”

  She finished with the poultice, wiped off her hands, and wrapped Hannah up snugly. She lifted her eyes to him. The humor was gone now, but they held such tenderness it made his heart ache. “But God can see our hearts, Benjamin, and I don’t believe He’s accusing you.”

  “My heart is black.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute. But even if it were, God is ready to forgive you.”

  “It seems I have misjudged you in many ways,” he replied, skirting the real issue of her words. “You are a Christian woman?” As he spoke, Oliver’s cries became too insistent to be ignored, and Benjamin picked him up from the cradle. He had no food to offer him, but perhaps holding him would help.

  “I think so, but I know so little about it all.” Elise picked up Hannah as well, rubbing her back soothingly. “I can count on one hand the times I’ve been to church, and each of those times my mind was elsewhere. But I do know this, a person who has sinned—even more than I have sinned—can find forgiveness from God. That I read in Rebekah’s New Testament.”

  “Rebekah’s?”

  “Yes. She gave it to me on the ship. I’ve been reading it. She told me to base my concept of God on His words, not on His fallible children.”

  “She must have meant me.”

  “I have been reading it, and I have discovered a God who is far different from the one I had imagined.”

  “What kind of God?”

  “A God who loves. A God who forgives.”

  “I’ve read God’s Word, also—many times.” He paused, shaking his head. Had he even gotten that wrong? Well, he wasn’t surprised, since he’d botched all else in his life.

  “Maybe you should read it again now that—” She stopped, obviously reluctant to complete the thought she’d begun.

  “Now that my life has fallen into shambles?” he offered, sparing her.

  “Now that you are not so full of yourself . . . King Insufferable.” She grinned impishly. “It is amazing how much better we can hear when our pride ceases to block our ears. At least such was the case with me. Perhaps it will be so with you.”

  “I don’t know. . . .”

  “How long will you punish yourself, Benjamin?”

  “I better see if that cow has any more milk to give us.” It was easy to ignore her incisive words with a baby crying in his ears.

  “Let me have the baby,” she said. “I can hold two at once.”

  He wanted to thank her for releasing him so easily, but he said nothing. He’d had enough confrontation for one day.

  CHAPTER

  37

  ELISE GAVE THE CABIN A satisfied look. In little over a week she had finally brought some order to the Sinclair home. She thought that Rebekah Sinclair would not be ashamed to give her approval to Elise’s efforts.

  Certainly no housekeeper by experience, Elise discovered she had a natural knack for it. Barbara, her old nurse, had taught her a few things, and even Daphne Hearne had begun instructing her in the task of running a plantation household. Of course, what a southern planta.tion lady needed to know about living was far different from what a woman needed to know in a cabin on the frontier. For one thing, on a plantation there were slaves to actually do the work. The lady of the house merely had to keep abreast of when various tasks needed to be done. Then, it was “Hattie, churn the butter,” or “Missy, time to put up preserves.”

  But Elise was instinctively tidy. She was an a
ccomplished laundress, thanks to Maurry. Cooking was another matter. She had never really done much cooking. On the plantation the slaves had done it, as had Maurry’s slaves, leaving his girls free for other tasks. But she thought cooking merely took good sense if one could read recipes. Isabel proved to be a great help in finding the book in which Rebekah had kept her recipes. She also found another book called The American Frugal House-wife by Mrs. Child. These, in fact, were the only books Rebekah owned besides her Bible, so Elise guessed they must have been invaluable for her to have brought them all the way from Boston. There were actually only about a dozen other books in the house. All except a reading primer for the children were Benjamin’s theological books. But the Sinclair library probably had more books than all of Benjamin’s parish combined.

  Since by unspoken agreement the household chores fell to Elise, she spent as much time as she could poring over Rebekah’s books. When Micah or Benjamin brought in a pail of milk rich with cream, she flipped frantically through the pages to see what to do with it. Benjamin was no help at all. He not only had never helped his wife with the household chores but also had never paid much attention.

  “My mind was on a higher plane, you know,” he said with biting sarcasm, “not on temporal, worldly things. I can quote you all the Scripture you want, but plant a seed, tan a hide, shoe a horse? Sorry, I did naught but read and pray in Boston.”

  “Didn’t you say you built the barn?” She was constantly trying to bolster his morale, it seemed.

  “Half of it, but don’t take a level to the place. My father was something of a carpenter, so I learned a bit from him when my nose wasn’t buried in a book.”

  He said most of what he knew about frontier life he had read in books before leaving Boston. He’d also taught himself to shoot after he had accepted the position with the missionary board. “Though,” he quipped, “no one it seems can teach a man how to actually hit a target. At least it hasn’t worked with me.”

  Elise was determined to master the role of homemaker, though she wondered if it was a part she would play for long. Certainly she could not stay in the Sinclair cabin forever. Perhaps Benjamin would help her build a cabin somewhere, and she could set up her own home with Hannah.

  Now, there is a true pipe dream, Elise Toussaint, she thought. A woman alone on the frontier? It would be nothing short of scandalous. Even if she didn’t practice her old profession, everyone would think she did anyway. If she survived. Many women, of course, were left alone while their husbands went hunting and such, or, as with Benjamin, rode circuits. But that was after the husband had put by a supply of meat and wood and taken care of other such needs.

  What was in her future? For the last year she had been so absorbed in the misery of her present, she found now it was rather luxurious to even contemplate a future. She tried not to think of all the complications in her life, things that might make it impossible for her to ever have a normal life again.

  Instead, she focused on the here and now. The cozy little cabin, the children who were coming to depend on her and even, she thought, care for her. But that went two ways. As the children grew close to her, she also was becoming attached to them. Oliver had no idea if she was his mother or not, he simply responded to her as if she were, quieting when she held him, cooing at the sound of her voice. She had even been the one to witness his first smile.

  The pain of their mother’s loss was still deep in Isabel and Leah, yet because Elise made no attempt to replace Rebekah and was careful not to force affection upon the girls, they were warming up to her. And quite surprisingly, Isabel was a great help to Elise in the house. Constantly by her mother’s side, she had learned much. And Elise made sure that memories of Rebekah were included as often as possible.

  Micah was a problem Elise had no idea what to do about. Though nothing had been said, she knew his pain ran deeper than merely the loss of his mother. His intense animosity toward Benjamin was heart-wrenching. Elise remained cautiously out of it. She let them deal with each other as they must while she concentrated on each as individuals. Thus Micah was polite and civil to her, even if he wasn’t to his father.

  In addition to the strain of caring for the Sinclair children, Elise found Hannah to be a frustrating challenge that caused her constant heartache. She began to wonder if Hannah would ever be healthy again. It saddened and frightened her to compare her daughter to the younger Leah, who was as chubby and robust as Hannah was frail and withering. Elise had heard about the cholera epidemic that had struck Texas two years earlier, killing thousands. If something like that should happen again, she knew Hannah could not survive. Yet even knowing Hannah could die at any time, Elise could not prepare herself emotionally for such a tragedy. She knew her heart would break at the loss, no matter how much she expected it.

  Elise glanced out the window. The rawhide had been pushed back, and she could see it was a pleasant afternoon. She best leave off with her idle thoughts, which were growing more morose with each minute. Benjamin would be home soon and would want supper. Since it took Elise twice as long to prepare meals as it would Mrs. Child or even Rebekah, she best get busy.

  Benjamin eyed the buck some one hundred and fifty yards away. For the first time that day, he had spotted an animal before it espied him. He raised his hand silently, signaling Micah to stop. For once, the boy obeyed instantly.

  Actually, it had been an inspired idea to take Micah on the hunting expedition. The boy had remained cold and silent most of the time and often appeared as if he’d just as soon aim his rifle at Benjamin as at any innocent beast. But at least they had not had a single falling out since leaving early that afternoon. Benjamin had lost his temper the first time Micah had carelessly scared off a nice plump turkey. But other than that, the day had progressed rather tranquilly.

  “Let’s move a bit to the right,” Benjamin whispered. “Remember, a deer standing still will turn his head from the wind so he can see danger approach. That way he smells danger coming from behind him. Our best position is across the wind from the animal.”

  “How do you know that?” There was a slight edge to Micah’s question, but Benjamin sensed the cause might be that he begrudged admitting an interest in anything his father might say.

  “I read about it.”

  “Humph.”

  Micah never did have much appreciation for scholarship. He was going to have to be convinced by action that one could learn something practical from a mere book.

  “The best time to hunt deer is in the early morning or early evening when they are feeding. We are lucky the animal is feeding now. . . .”

  “Lucky?” Micah cocked his eyebrow.

  The boy wasn’t going to give Benjamin an inch of slack. Well, I don’t deserve it, Benjamin thought wryly. “Yes, lucky. It’s a mere word, Micah.”

  “So it wasn’t by God’s providence that the deer is feeding when he normally shouldn’t be?”

  Even in his present spiritual state, Benjamin cringed at the way Micah slurred the reference to God. Had he destroyed not only his son’s relationship with him but with God as well?

  “I just don’t know anymore, Micah.” If the boy perceived anything at all, he would see Benjamin’s statement had to do with more than deer. He added uncomfortably, “We best be still before we alert the animal.”

  As if to prove his caution, the deer glanced up from his grazing. Benjamin mouthed to Micah to freeze. Then they waited several moments before the animal began grazing again. With a slight motion, Benjamin signaled for them to proceed. They did so with the greatest of stealth. In three minutes they were within range.

  Benjamin’s pulse was pounding, his palms sweating as he gripped his musket. He’d never bagged a deer before, and he felt excitement rising at the prospect. He had read that this sensation was called “buck fever.” In the past he might have rebuked the emotion as frivolous and unholy, but now he let it have full rein. He honestly could not think why he had thought such excited emotions were wrong.

>   Glancing at Micah, he saw his son also emanated the same kind of agitation, at least if it could be judged by his pale face and taut lips and the way his jaw muscles were dancing spasmodically. Benjamin hadn’t considered his son’s expectations in this hunt, and they certainly hadn’t discussed it. He had assumed he’d get the first kill, then if there was another opportunity, he’d let Micah have a chance. After all, they were getting low on meat and could not afford to risk a chance to fill the larders when it came. But the day was wearing on. It would take a couple hours to get back to the cabin. This might be their only opportunity.

  Suddenly Benjamin knew that a unique opportunity had been given to him. A chance to cull his son’s love—well, he doubted it would go that far, but he’d be happy with merely a word of gratitude from his recalcitrant son.

  “Get your gun ready, son,” he breathed.

  “Me?”

  “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

  Micah nodded, then lifted his musket.

  When they had first started out, they had loaded their muskets. Benjamin had been surprised at how much Micah knew. He had exhibited an ability to measure the powder, cut the grease patch, and to tamp the ball with the ramrod. Benjamin was pleased to see he had developed good technique. He’d tried to teach Micah what little he knew about shooting, but being gone so much, he knew his instruction had been fairly inadequate. He wondered where the boy had learned to place the butt of the musket firmly against his shoulder. Had Haden given him lessons while they were on the trail together?

  Somewhat morosely, Benjamin thought of his brother, who had also taught him how to shoot back in Boston. Yes, Benjamin could see Haden in Micah’s stance, even in the way he pushed his tongue against the inside of his mouth as he aimed the weapon.

  “Remember, gently squeeze the trigger. Don’t pull. And keep your eyes on your target—”

  “I know what to do,” Micah broke in tersely.

  Benjamin closed his eyes, took a breath . . . and remained silent.

  He watched as Micah sighted the rifle, took a breath himself, and held it for one long instant. Micah was patient, not like you’d expect an eager youth to behave on the occasion of his first kill. But then, maybe this wasn’t his first. Benjamin was wondering about this, regretting that he might not be the one to have shared this momentous “first” with his son, when the report of the rifle blasted in his ears.