Carrying a basket of sandwiches, Jenny made her way toward the jail. The town felt ghost-like in its silence. Absolute stillness cloaked it, and were it not for the tell-tale evidence of smoking campfires and the churned-up mud on the street, one would never know that nearly eighty men had been in town only that morning.
She prayed as she walked. Hoped that this might be the day Lee would listen to her. She couldn’t count the number of times she had told him of his need for a Savior, and his consequent rejections.
She eased open the door to the jail and stepped inside.
Mr. Gaffney, who sat at the desk, stood with a sympathetic smile. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Chang. You here to see your husband?”
Jenny nodded. “I bring food.” She lifted the basket.
“That’s fine.” He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Uh, it’s not that I don’t trust you but...well, I’m gonna have to take a look in that there basket.”
“Oh.” Jenny nodded in understanding, holding out the basket in his direction.
After satisfying himself that there were no hidden weapons or files in the basket, Gaffney gestured her past the desk toward the cells only a few feet away.
Jenny’s heart constricted at the vulnerability that crossed Lee’s face as he met her gaze. She had not seen him look that way for a very long time. Not since they were kids back in China, before he became a respected, hardened man of power.
He quickly schooled his features, though. Stepping to the bars, he rested his forearms there as he watched her approach.
“I can give you ten minutes, Mrs. Chang, that’s all,” Gaffney spoke as he sat back down at his desk.
Nodding, she held out the basket to Lee. “I brought you some sandwiches. I thought you might be hungry.” She spoke in their native Mandarin.
He smiled his gratitude as he reached for the basket, an unfamiliar expression for him. For the first time in years Jenny saw that he still cared for her, at least in some measure.
Stripped of his pipe, he reminded her of the young man she had fallen in love with. A little heavier, balder, and grayer, with much harder eyes, but the same man nonetheless. She felt a tenderness for him that she had not experienced in quite some time. She laid a hand on his unshaven cheek, even as he chewed hungrily on the food she’d brought.
“I could use my pipe,” he said around a mouthful. “Do you think you could get it for me?”
She sighed, pulling her hand away. Sadness welled in her heart. “I thought about it, but I just can’t, Lee. Maybe this time will be good for you. Help you see that you don’t need to depend on that drug to get you through the day. There is something else to depend on. Some one else. One who is a much greater help than any drug will ever be.”
Lee rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I have told you a thousand times that I don’t need some man who lived two thousand years ago to help me with anything. I have done very well for myself. Look at all we have.” He gestured with his sandwich in the general direction of their store.
“Yes, and look where it has taken you.” She gestured around the jail.
He eyed her. “I have been thinking about that.” He lowered his voice even though Gaffney couldn’t understand Chinese. “Listen, you could help us get out of here. Remember that little gun I keep under the counter at the store?”
Tears misted Jenny’s eyes, and she shook her head.
He went on. “You could bring it to me…smuggle it in under some food or something, and then we could all get out of here. You and I could go back to China and see our families again. What do you say?”
The tears spilled down Jenny’s cheeks. “No, Lee. I will not help you out of this one. Too many times I have turned my back on your evil, and I won’t do it again. You had a man killed! And for what? What did you get for this job? A little money? How long will it last you? Or have you spent it already? This life is but a vapor, Lee.” She snapped her fingers. “We’re here for a moment and then gone tomorrow. The day is coming when you will have to stand before your Maker and give an account for your life. What are you going to say?”
She swiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks. “I have prayed, Lee. Prayed that you will get out of here. But I must be honest with you. I don’t think that is going to happen—and I know what happens to murderers. Especially Chinese murderers.” Her face crumpled. “Hard as life has been with you, I hate the thought of having to live without you.”
He averted his eyes and folded his hands. Shrugging, he looked back at her. “Just my pipe then?”
Her heart sank. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said. She backed toward the door, her eyes never leaving his face. “I love you, Lee. Even now, after all you have put me through, I still love you. But I will not help you escape. Not physically, and not mentally. I want you to be able to think clearly about all I have ever told you about Jesus and His love.”
She gulped back her tears, wondering if this might not be the last chance she would get to talk with him. What else could she say? “Good-bye, Lee.” She swung around and moved toward the door.
“Jenny!” he called out to her.
She stopped, turning to face him.
“I will think about what you’ve said.”
Thankfulness washed over her, and she nodded. “That is all I can ask.” With that she made a hasty exit and headed home. There she threw herself across the bed and sobbed herself into an exhausted sleep.
The long night passed in nightmarish fashion for Sky. He had caught up with Pa on the trail to town, but they had found no clues to Brooke’s whereabouts. Just before darkness descended in full force, they found the place where she had apparently been knocked from her horse by an overhead branch, but she had been riding away from town, not toward it. At the sight of the dark stain of blood on the patch of pine needles where Brooke had fallen, Sky felt the blood drain from his face. He hated being so helpless in the face of her danger.
Whipping around, he started for his horse, ready to head toward town and keep searching, but Pa laid a restraining hand on his arm. “It won’t do any good to keep looking in the dark, Son.”
Sky wanted to keep on searching all night until he found her, but knew even without the insistence of his father, that traipsing around in the dark would not only end in failure but might destroy any tracks that could lead them to her in the morning. He sighed in resignation, hating the fact that he could do nothing.
He spent a restless night, pacing back and forth in their little cabin, and praying as best he could, hoping above all hope that they would find her alive someplace, first thing in the morning—that nothing terrible would happen to her between now and then.
Jason lay in his usual position on the boarding-house bed, hands clasped behind his head. He had gotten little sleep because of the thoughts that plagued his mind. Yesterday morning, when he and Sky talked, he had felt a measure of their old camaraderie return. It had felt good. He didn’t want to walk away from that friendship again, but he knew there was a more important decision he needed to make.
The first verses of Psalm 23 kept coming to mind: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want, He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Jason had once walked by those still waters. He knew what it was like to have peace in his life, and for the last several years he had had no peace.
He thought back over the time he had lived in Pierce City. He had come here bent on revenge, seeking to drown his bitterness in the bottom of a bottle. But God had thwarted his plans at every turn.
There had been no opportunity for him to carry out his vendetta against Lee Chang. He had sought every opening to exact his revenge, but there’d never been a time when he felt he could do so without getting caught, so he had never followed through on his many murderous desires.
As for his drinking, what had that ever gotten him? It certainly hadn’t removed his bitterness. If anything, it had sh
arpened it, making it more intense. And it was often, when he was in the throes of a hangover, that Scriptures he’d committed to memory as a boy would come back to haunt him.
When he had sought to bring a young woman into his home for his own selfish indulgence, God had stepped in then, as well, sending Sky to intervene on her behalf and ultimately forcing Jason to look clearly at his own life and see it for what it was. Empty and dry.
Wherever he turned, peace and pleasure eluded him. Even now, when Lee Chang, the man he had hated for so long, would probably hang for murder, he didn’t feel the happiness he’d imagined, nor the peace he’d hoped for.
He suddenly came face to face with the truth. He longed for the peace he had once known. He yearned to be led by still waters, to feel the cool refreshing richness that comes only when one’s life is right with God. He wanted God to restore his soul.
He had made a step in the right direction when he’d decided that revenge was a poor choice and that he would let the Lord decide what happened to Chang, but he knew he needed to do more than that. He needed to surrender his soul to Jesus.
“Oh Lord, I have fought You for so long. I know You’ve been here convicting me, trying to show me how much harm I was doing to myself, because I have never felt right about the things I was doing. I need Your help now, Lord. I give my life back to You. Do with me as You will. Forgive me for my selfishness, for only wanting things done my way. Help me in the future, even when I don’t understand why You are doing the things You do, to trust You. Help me to always remember that You are just, and never again want to take that justice into my own hands.”
The healing tears began. “Restore my soul, Lord. Come back into my heart and make me clean again. Let me walk by Your still waters once more.” He hadn’t moved from his place on the bed but suddenly his heart felt right. He hadn’t experienced this feeling of peace for a long time and he knew, without a doubt, that God had heard his prayer. “Thank You, Lord,” he whispered.
His prayers changed then. He began to pray for all of his family and loved ones. He prayed for Uncle Sean and Aunt Rachel. For Marquis, his sister. For Rocky, Sharyah, Cade Bennett, and Victoria Snyder. He prayed for Jed and Sky and Brooke, thanking God that he had not been allowed to ruin that young girl’s life and asking that she and Sky find true happiness together. Then his prayers changed yet again, and he found himself praying for Lee Chang.
He sat up. There was something else he needed to do before Lee Chang was taken to Murray to stand trial.
Glancing out the window, he saw that the sun had climbed well above the horizon. He’d need to hurry if he wanted to talk to Chang. Hastily pulling on his clothes, he hopped toward the door, still working at getting his foot properly settled into his second boot.
Despite his rush, the prisoners were already gone when he got to the jail.
“Just headed out about fifteen minutes ago,” said Carle, who happened to be at the court house. “If you hurry, you can probably catch them.”
When the party came around a corner and he saw the short, hooded man blocking the trail, Ping Chi knew his time on this earth had come to an end. The man held a sawed-off shotgun casually in the crook of one arm. Jewels glittered on his fingers. Calculating eyes peered out of the slits cut in the hood.
Ping glanced to the right. Off to the edge of the trail, a pole was slung between the forks of two trees. Five hemp-rope nooses dangled from it.
He had his hands tied behind his back and his legs lashed to the stirrups like all the other prisoners. So Ping knew they would not stand a fighting chance against even this one small man.
“Howdy, gents,” the man called casually. “If you boys who are supposed to be escorting these here prisoners to trial will just disappear, I have something I would like to discuss with them.”
“Sorry. I’m afraid we can’t do that,” drawled one of the guards. “We’ve been paid to escort these men to Murray, and that’s where we intend to take them.”
“If you’ll look around you, gentlemen, you’ll see that you are surrounded, and if you value your life, it would be prudent to do as I ask.”
The six guards glanced around the forest, shifting uneasily in their saddles. Ping saw there were at least five other men surrounding them. He frowned. Something was not right. All that could be seen of the other men were the nasty weapons that protruded from their hiding places behind bushes and trees.
“Well now, I think we might be willing to reconsider,” one of the guards capitulated.
All six guards turned as one and rode their horses into the forest. Ping swallowed hard.
The hooded man sneered. “Fools,” he muttered as the men rode off. Then he turned to Lee Chang. “Chang, you should have known I would never let you live to tell about this.”
Hope quickened in Ping’s heart. Maybe the man only wanted Chang. But all hope died when the man removed his mask. Never before had Ping seen such hard, hate-filled eyes. And now that he and the other prisoners had seen his face, they too would be held under the same suspicious distrust as Chang.
Hot tears pricked the back of Ping’s eyes. He had wanted so much more from life. He was still young—only eighteen.
Ping glanced at Chang to see what he might do.
The big merchant eyed the pole with its dreadful ropes dangling in gruesome prediction of the future. “You wouldn’t dare double-cross me like this.” Chang’s gaze returned to the man in the trail.
“Just watch me, Chang.” The man laughed sadistically. “You are the worst kind of a fool. I played you right from the beginning.”
Chang strained at his bonds. “You won’t get away with this, Hunter. The girl saw you. She talked. Her husband knows everything, and there are men out looking for you even now.”
Ping knew he was bluffing, but kept silent, hoping Chang would somehow figure out a way to get them all out of this.
Another laugh. “You don’t think I know about the girl? She didn’t talk, not to the men in town anyway. I made sure of that. Now her husband…I haven’t figured out yet whether he knows or not, she might have told him…but I’ll take care of them shortly. Neither of them will be doing much talking after today.”
As he spoke, Hunter led Chang’s horse over and stopped it just under one of the ropes, keeping his sawed-off shotgun trained on the other four men. He must have seen the thought of escape gleaming in Ping’s eye because he raised the gun in his direction. “Ah, ah, ah. I would just as soon shoot you as hang you, so don’t move.”
Ping’s face blanched and his throat went dry as Hunter stepped up on a box, slipped the noose over Chang’s head, and cinched it down with finality.
Chang’s lips were moving now, his eyes closed, and if Ping hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Lee was praying.
Pulling a gleaming knife from the scabbard at his waist, their murderer made a clean slice through the bonds that kept Chang’s legs tied to the saddle, first on one side and then on the other.
Ping closed his eyes as Hunter slapped Chang’s horse sharply and it lunged forward. Much as he disliked Chang, he didn’t want to watch him die, especially not with his own death looming so close.
22
Sky was up well before dawn and riding down the trail on the way back to town. His brown buckskins blended with his surroundings, making it difficult for any potential enemy to spot him. Knowing any sound he made could be his last, he had traded in his boots for moccasins. Wearing moccasins, he could feel a twig underfoot before it snapped and readjust his step to prevent the noise. His ability to move soundlessly through the forest would be needed on this day.
He knew Brooke had not merely had an accident and gotten lost trying to find her way home. This was far more serious than that.
Darkness still cloaked the heavens. The place where they had found Brooke’s blood the day before was a good four miles from his cabin. He wanted to get there early so he could renew his search at the first hint of light.
He had not awakened Pa, kn
owing that as soon as day dawned, he would come. Sky hoped by then he would have some evidence to go on.
His long wait during the night had given him plenty of time to think, and he’d realized he must slow down and act rationally. He had known too many men who had let their hearts dictate their actions in tense situations and had lost their lives because of it. His ability to keep a cool head, even in the craziest of situations, had enabled him on more than one occasion to capture his foe, but his heart had never been so involved before. Because of that, on this day he would have to be even more careful than usual.
When he got to the place where Brooke had been knocked from her horse, he settled down to wait for the light. Sky wondered what had happened to Trace Johnson. Could it be that he was in on this? He didn’t think so.
Everything about the man said that he was trustworthy. But where was he?
His thoughts turned to Brooke, wondering if she was all right. He refused to allow himself to think about the possibility that he might be too late to save her life. He chose instead to pray.
He must have sat for an hour talking to the Lord, before he finally allowed himself to start following the trail. The light, under the thick branches of the overhead trees was still dim, but he couldn’t force himself to wait another minute.
His moccasins made not even the slightest of sounds as he squatted next to the patch of pine needles bloodied by Brooke’s wound.
In the light of day Sky noticed something they had missed in the gathering darkness the evening before. Brooke had been picked up after she had fallen from her horse, and placed on another horse.
Sky closed his eyes, his dread mounting as he read the tracks. They were the same tracks he had found in the alley the day after the murder; the same tracks he’d seen in the barn yard the day Brooke had gone berry picking.
Sky swallowed the lump in his throat. He had dreaded this, hoped he was overreacting, but now the evidence proved it. Percival Hunter, a man he suspected of cold-blooded murder, had his wife. “Oh, Jesus, be with her.”
The Shepherd's Heart Series: A Boxed Set Book Bundle Collection Volumes 1-4 Page 25
