But For Grace (HEARTSONG PRESENTS - HISTORICAL)

by Tracey V. Bateman

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a ma?”

  “I used to, but she passed away.”

  Aimee reached out and touched Star’s face with her soft hand. “Mine too.”

  Swallowing hard, Star fought back the tears threatening to begin all over again. She covered the pudgy little hand with one of her own, marveling at its sweet softness. “My mama had to work very hard to take care of me. She didn’t have much time to tell me stories, but she tucked me in every night before she went to work.”

  Aimee sighed in obvious sympathy for Star’s plight. “Grammy or Pa tucks me in, and they always tell me a story from the Bible. Want to hear one?”

  Star made an effort to push away the sadness. “I’d love to hear a Bible story.”

  “Do you want one from the old part of the Bible or the new?”

  “I thought the whole thing was pretty old.”

  A giggle escaped the tiny rosebud mouth. “You’re funny.”

  She hadn’t meant to be funny, but Star was glad her ignorance had brought the child some pleasure. Smiling, she brushed away a strand of golden hair from Aimee’s cheek.

  “I think you’re pretty funny too. So what story do you want to tell me?”

  Aimee scrunched her nose, her brow creasing as though she were deep in thought. “Well, there was a man named Jonah in the old part of the Bible. He was swallowed by a fish. Do you want to hear that one?”

  Star felt her eyes grow wide as she pictured a catfish large enough to swallow a grown man. Rising up on her elbow, she rested her ear on her palm and nodded.

  Aimee sat straight up.

  “There was this man named Jonah,” she began, then frowned. “I don’t know any men named Jonah, do you?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’ve heard of lots of men named John.”

  “There’s some of those in the Bible too. Want to hear about one of them?”

  Star wanted to hear the fish story. “Let’s finish the one about Jonah first.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She grinned an infectious smile that Star couldn’t help but return. “Well, God told Jonah to go to. . .to. . .Nin. . .Ninna. It was a town with very bad people who wouldn’t obey God.”

  “Then why did God want to send Jonah there?” Star asked.

  “I guess he was a traveling preacher, like the circuit riders that used to come around here until my uncle Hank started being the preacher regular-like.”

  “Oh. So God wanted Jonah to preach to the people in Ninna?”

  “Yeah. Because they were really, really bad. Do you know what bad people do?”

  “What?”

  A shrug lifted the small shoulders. “Pa won’t tell me. I just thought you might know.”

  Stifling a giggle, Star shook her head. After Michael’s comments about her own conduct, she wasn’t sure what “bad” was either. She had the feeling, the way Michael had pounced on the word she’d used earlier, it wouldn’t bother him a bit to set her straight when the situation warranted. “Did Jonah go to Ninna like God told him to?”

  Aimee’s mop of curls bounced as she bobbed her head. “But not at first. He got in a boat with some men and went the other way.”

  “I wonder why he would do that.” If God ever spoke to Star, she’d be so honored, it wouldn’t bother her a bit to do exactly what she was told.

  “Pa says he was a scaredy-cat.”

  “What was he afraid of?”

  “I dunno. Maybe he thought he might get scalped. I guess it’s like the preacher that tried to bring a little religion to the heathen redskins last year. They didn’t want to hear it, so they scalped him.”

  “That’s awful!”

  “I heard Uncle Hank telling Pa about it awhile back. Pa said some folks would just rather live in their sin, and maybe it would be better to leave the Indians alone. Uncle Hank didn’t think so, though.”

  Star wondered how Uncle Hank had heard about it, but even more, she wanted to get to the part of the story where Jonah got swallowed by the fish. “So what happened to Jonah after he got into the boat and went the other way?”

  Aimee leaned forward, her eyes wide. “God sent a big storm.” For emphasis, she held her arms out as far as they would go. “And the other men were real scared because the boat was tipping over and they didn’t want to drown.”

  Star placed her palm flat on the bed. Pushing herself up higher, she rested her full weight on her hand. Her stomach tightened with the intensity of the story. “Did Jonah fall out of the boat? Is that how he got swallowed?”

  “They threw him out! Wasn’t that mean?”

  It certainly was. “Why would they do such a thing?”

  “I don’t really understand why, but Jonah told them to do it. He knew if he got out of the boat, the storm would stop.”

  “What happened after they threw him in? The fish came and ate him?”

  “Yep.”

  A twinge of regret snaked its way across Star’s heart. “Then he died? I thought he went to Ninna to preach.”

  “He didn’t die.”

  “He got swallowed up by a fish, but he didn’t die?” Star couldn’t keep the cynicism from her voice. Obviously, Aimee heard it, for she stiffened her spine and jutted her chin defensively. “Pa says that’s the miracle part about it.”

  “Oh.”

  Aimee gave her a gap-toothed grin. “There’s always a miracle in Bible stories. Jonah stayed in the fish for three whole days. I wouldn’t want to do that, would you?”

  “Huh-uh.” Star shuddered at the thought.

  “But Jonah prayed and told God he was sorry. And God made the fish swim over to the ground and throw him up. And Jonah was so glad to be out of the fish that he went to Ninna.”

  “I should hope so.” Though it seemed to Star a preacher, of all people, should have known better than to disobey God in the first place.

  “After he preached in Ninna, the folks there told God they were sorry for being bad, and God forgave them.”

  “Just like that? He didn’t punish them?”

  Aimee shook her head. “Pa says Jonah was kinda mad about that part. He thought God should punish the people.”

  “Well, that’s probably because he had just spent three days in a fish’s belly and wasn’t feeling too happy about things in general.”

  “Probably,” Aimee agreed, a wide yawn muffling the word. She lay back on the bed, so Star did the same. “But Uncle Hank says when a person is really sorry for the wrong things they do, that God throws the sin away just like it never happened.”

  “He does?”

  “Yes, and if you ask Jesus to live in your heart, He makes you His child. And then you get to be with Him in heaven someday.”

  Tears stung Star’s eyes. Aimee’s eyes had drifted shut, but Star shook her. “Aimee, what else do you have to do to live with God in heaven someday?”

  A soft sigh escaped the rosebud lips. “You have to tell God that you believe Jesus is His Son.”

  “I do believe that.” With all my heart. “And then what?” she prodded. “Aimee, what next?”

  Aimee’s eyes popped open and she gave another wide yawn. “You have to believe Jesus died for your sins and then came back alive.”

  “I do.” Joy rushed to her heart and burst forth. “I believe it, Aimee. I really do.

  “What next?”

  Her eyes closed once more and she snuggled under the covers. “That’s it. Now you just have to be good.”

  “Oh, Sweetie. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Mmmm. . .”

  Star smiled and reached forward, caressing the child’s golden curls. She would have loved to hear another story, but Aimee’s steady breathing indicated she had already fallen asleep. Leaning forward carefully, she pressed a soft kiss to the child’s forehead.

  Rolling onto her back, Star folded her arms behind her head and stared up at the ceiling. The story amazed and perplexed her. On one hand, God let a fish swallow Jonah to punish him, but he forgave the wicked
people in Ninna. Aimee had said when a person was sorry for what they did wrong, God threw the sin away. But what if a person didn’t know what was right? What then? Star’s eyes grew heavy and a yawn opened her mouth wide.

  One thing she knew for sure, she had landed smack dab in the middle of a family who knew right from wrong, where folks read the Bible, and even a five year old could recount the stories by heart. If there was anyplace to find out about God, this was it. She could have done a lot worse.

  With a sigh, she rolled back onto her side, trying to find a comfortable position in the unfamiliar bed. Her good foot bumped against the injured ankle. Instinctively, Star swore at the shooting pain. With a gasp, she covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, God,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to say it ever again.”

  She glanced at the little girl lying next to her and expelled a relieved breath. By the child’s even breathing, Star knew she couldn’t have heard the word.

  Star groaned. She’d better learn to stop saying that before Michael took her straight back where he found her. Or worse, he might just throw her out and let her fend for herself. Then she’d never get a chance to find out everything he knew about God.

  ❧

  Michael stripped off his jeans and cotton shirt and stretched out on his bed. The memory of his daughter’s version of Jonah still lingered in his mind. He grinned into the darkness and shook his head. Ninna. He’d have to set Star straight tomorrow. When he heard Aimee’s little voice in Star’s bed, he had fully intended to order her back to his mother’s bed. But when he heard her ask if Star wanted to hear about Jonah, he couldn’t help but listen.

  He couldn’t figure Star out. One minute she was cussing as well as any drunken cowboy he’d ever heard; the next, she was listening with childlike wonder to one of the earliest Bible lessons taught in a Christian home. The puzzling part was that she seemed genuinely interested. When he heard her agree to the story, he’d assumed she only did it to appease Aimee. From the sound of it, she’d probably never picked up a Bible in her life. If she’d ever been to a church meeting, which he doubted, she apparently hadn’t learned much. While she was under his roof, he’d have to do something about her lack of understanding on spiritual matters.

  An owl called to its mate from the tall oak outside of Michael’s loft window. He turned his head toward the sound. The light of the moon filtered in through the glass, casting a glow on the hope chest below the sill. Sarah’s trunk. Michael had lovingly crafted it as a wedding gift for his wife. Painstakingly, he had carved out her initials in large script across the middle of the lid. On either side of the initials, facing inward, he had carved a dove, each carrying a leaf in its beak. Even now, Michael relived the disappointment he’d felt back then—that the symbolism for a new beginning was lost on Sarah.

  She’d been genuinely happy with the beauty of the trunk but had been less than thrilled with the Bible accompanying the gift. Michael had never once seen her attempt to read it. He remembered her teasing laughter when he mentioned the oversight. “What do I need to read it for? You quote the Bible constantly. Folks could mistake you for a preacher or something.”

  He swallowed hard at the memory. He had met her while staying overnight in Portland, after driving a herd of cattle to sell. Sarah had worked in the saloon next to the hotel. He had met her on the street, a bruised, swollen lip marring her otherwise perfect face. Michael had taken her to a restaurant and bought her a meal and was desperately in love before the last bite was eaten. In a moment of unaccustomed impulsiveness, he had asked her to marry him. After all, hadn’t she cried and told him how much she wanted to change? How much she wanted out of the life she led?

  Throughout their three-day journey home, Sarah had listened to his talk of God. She had agreed with everything. She knew all about God, she’d said, but had gotten down on her luck and was forced into her sinful life just to make ends meet. Now she wanted to return to her roots and become respectable once again.

  Michael’s hand balled into a fist. He had been fooled, plain and simple. He should have known better, but his smitten heart had so wanted to believe her.

  The memories strengthened his resolve to remove everything of Sarah’s from his home. He knew Aimee would probably want the trunk when she grew up, so he kept it. Everything else would be burned. Except the Bible. Even in his anger, Michael knew he couldn’t bring himself to destroy such a treasure.

  A loud clatter drew him up straight in the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. What was that? He swung his legs around to the edge of the bed and grabbed his pants from the floor. Standing, he slipped on the jeans and buttoned them. He glanced at the Colt lying on the table next to his bed. After a moment’s hesitation, he snatched up the gun. No telling what that noise could have been. Cannonball might have found a way inside, but the sound could have just as likely been caused by an outlaw up to no good.

  Or it could be. . . Don’t let that pretty face fool you, Mister. That girl stole a load of cash from my boss and he wants it back. . . .

  Michael scowled as the words came back to haunt him. After he had saved her, brought her home, and let his daughter sleep in the same bed, Star was trying to rob him. Was there a woman alive, besides Ma, who could be trusted?

  He looked down from the loft. A quick glance toward the bedroom confirmed the door was open. He inched down the ladder, ready to catch Star in the act. He wouldn’t even wait until morning to take her into Hobbs and let the sheriff deal with her. He would be well rid of the little thief.

  He stepped into the living area and, sure enough, there she was, stooped over by the cherry wood armoire his pa had built for Ma thirty years ago. Ma had insisted it was too beautiful to hide away in a bedroom, so the cupboard had always graced the main room of the house. It seemed only right that Ma bring it with her when she came to live with Michael after Aimee was born.

  Anger boiled his blood at the thought of this girl going through his mother’s things.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, closing the distance between them in a few short strides.

  Star gasped and spun around to face him. “Michael!”

  He grabbed her by the arm. “Surprised?”

  “Of course I’m surprised. Wouldn’t you be if someone came sneaking up on you? I’m trying to find—”

  In no mood to hear a pack of lies, Michael cut her off. “Save it for the sheriff.”

  “Michael Riley, turn that poor child loose.”

  Michael kept a firm grasp on Star’s arm and faced his mother.

  “Ma, I caught her red-handed trying to steal from us.”

  “N–no, I—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” his mother snapped. “The girl wouldn’t get past the barn with her injury. It took her ten minutes to get this far. And put down that gun. Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “Oh, Miss Hannah, I’m so sorry I woke you.”

  “Think nothing of it. Let me help you find whatever it is you were looking for.”

  Michael gaped at the two women, one contrite, eyes wide with fear; the other, his own mother, ready to help her loot the place.

  “Ma—”

  “You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, so I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Shame on you for expecting the worst. Do as I said and let her go this instant.”

  Michael let go at once.

  “Please don’t argue on my account,” Star begged.

  Slapping his hand against his thigh, Michael glared at the girl. “Fine, tell me what you’re doing skulking about the house at this time of night.”

  “I–I—”

  Obviously, she was trying to think up a convincing lie. “Well? Make it good.”

  Her eyes narrowed, growing steely. He’d seen the same expression on her face just before she’d shoved him from the wagon during the storm. Instinctively, he stepped back.

  “If you must know, I was looking for a candle so I could find my wa
y to the privy! But I wasn’t going to steal it, just borrow it.”

  Michael felt the anger drain from him.

  Ma stepped between him and Star. “Let me help you outside, Honey. It’s a good thing you made noise and woke me up. I doubt you’d have made it ten feet alone, anyway. Gracious, is that my teapot on the floor?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. It fell off the cupboard and broke when I was trying to feel around for the candle. I’ll find a way to pay you back for it. I promise.”

  “Nonsense. Accidents happen. Besides, it’s as old as Adam. ’Bout time I bought another one.”

  Michael watched in bewilderment as his mother helped Star out the door. Guilt pricked him as he squatted down and started picking up the broken pieces. He knew for a fact how much his ma treasured that teapot. If he’d have been the one to break it, she’d have chewed him up one side and down the other; but for some reason, Ma had decided to become this girl’s champion. There was nothing he could say or do to change her mind. When Ma got a notion in her head, that was that.

  He disposed of the shattered teapot and returned to his loft. With a frustrated sigh, he sat on the edge of the bed and raked his fingers through his hair. The girl might be a heap of trouble and a heathen to boot, but there was nothing worse than being falsely accused. No doubt about it, he owed her an apology.

  A grin lifted the corners of his mouth. He knew he could do better than an apology. Striding to the trunk, he lifted the lid. After rummaging through the clothing, he found Sarah’s Bible. With a satisfied smile, he carefully closed the lid and walked into the bedroom. His little girl didn’t stir as he bent and kissed her soft, round cheek and lifted the covers over her shoulders.

  The front door opened as the women returned to the house. Quickly Michael set the gift on the table beside the bed and crept back to his loft, pleased with himself for fulfilling his duty. Not only to get that girl some religion, but he felt the gift equaled an apology. His assumption that she was stealing had been an honest mistake. Maybe Star wasn’t stealing from them—this time, but she was still a thief. What else was he supposed to think with her sneaking around the house in the dead of night, looking through cupboards and such? He undressed for the third time that night and stretched out fully on the bed.