“Hold on now—don’t go causing even more trouble by getting riled up. Neither of us wants you doing anything you might regret.” I know about regrets.
“Trust me, I won’t regret whatever it takes,” the man growled. “It took me years to build my spread and make a home for Judith. Those steers will be worth plenty on hoof by roundup time this fall. I’ll be out looking for clues—I suggest you do the same.” He turned to stride down the steps and swing back onto his horse, galloping away in a cloud of dust.
Jedediah shook his head. He’d get the word out to some men for another posse, let Patience know boxed dinners were needed pronto.
Just when he’d thought he might have a chance to relax.
20
Patience tapped her pen against her notebook, trying to concentrate on the devotional she was writing, but her thoughts kept drifting to Jedediah and John—who seemed to be at odds about catching the rustlers. Added to that was her recent unsettling conversation with Cody. She admitted she wasn’t sure she could forgive the man who’d hanged an innocent person like Russell. But how did she know Cody was innocent of the accused crime? Her instincts seemed to tell her he was being truthful. Maybe she should be telling herself to forgive instead of lecturing Cody about it. There certainly was room for spiritual growth within herself.
“Lord,” she whispered, “help me be the person You want me to be . . . and please help me sort out my feelings about Jed.”
That evening after supper, everyone, including Emily, had gone to their rooms after a long day. The newlyweds, Will and Liza, always went for a walk before turning in.
Patience was back at the desk in the parlor, Buttercup warming her lap. She savored the quiet and slowly turned the pages of her Bible, contemplating what God might be teaching her, writing those thoughts down in her notebook. Soon she’d have a manuscript complete enough that she might have Emily send it to her uncle.
As she was writing, Buttercup leaped from her lap and ran up the stairs. Patience heard movement on the porch and saw a shadow through the window. Who in the world was out there in the dark? Her residents had their own keys, and she was glad that the door stayed locked after ten o’clock. A shuffling of boots against squeaky porch boards and a soft knock at the door didn’t sound alarming, though.
Patience pulled her shawl about her, tiptoed to the door, and lifted one corner of the lace curtain. Actually, she wasn’t surprised to see Jedediah there after how John had all but accused him of negligence today at the ranch. She quietly unbolted the lock, opening the door just enough to speak with him.
“Jed,” she whispered, “I suppose you know what time it is.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Yes, I know it’s late, but something’s come up. Can you step out here for a minute?”
Patience opened the door and moved out into the moonlight. “How did you know I would still be up?”
“I saw the light burning through the window and figured you were working on your writing.”
“You are, in fact, correct, but I’m sure you didn’t stop by to hear my explanation of forgiveness from the Word. I am happy to see you, though. So what’s the matter?”
“You’ve probably heard there’s been another incident at the Cross Bar Ranch,” Jed said, motioning her to the rocker and taking a seat nearby. “More of John’s cattle were stolen. Are you able to put four boxed lunches together on such short notice for the morning?”
Patience pursed her lips, thinking. “I may have enough from supper to make some sandwiches from leftovers. Will that do?”
“Anything will do. And thank you.” He leaned back and looked at her. “By the way, Patience, it’s awfully nice to see you in the moonlight after a hard day.”
Patience was glad that he wasn’t able to see her embarrassment. His face seemed very appealing in the moonlight too. All she could manage, though, was a low “Thank you.”
Jedediah leaned forward, but she drew back. “Not even a little hug?” His smile faded.
“Not out here, Jed. We could be seen—”
His harrumph stopped her explanation. “I doubt anyone is up this late and peering out their windows. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“You never know who might have insomnia tonight, and I don’t want there to be talk.”
He moved back in his chair. “Oh, I forgot you’re a virtuous woman,” he joked.
Her throat felt dry, and she wasn’t sure if he was simply making fun. “Matter of fact, my goal is to be virtuous, according to the Scriptures, and I have a respectable boardinghouse to run and don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.” She stood and reached for the doorknob. He quickly stood too and covered her hand with his own.
“Least of all me?” Jed’s voice was husky.
His hand was large—warm—strong. It would be so easy to fall against his broad chest, feel the beating of his heart against her ear, but she mustn’t. “Please, Jed. This is not the time or place. I’ll have your boxes ready for you at six. We both need to get to—to get our rest. Don’t knock . . . better come to the side door of the kitchen. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Jed,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand and lifted his hand from hers. “I’m looking forward to that picnic under the pines . . .” He backed away, walked down the steps, and started down the sidewalk.
She watched him disappear in the darkness, then hurried back inside. She shoved her notebook into a drawer and doused the light at her desk. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate any further tonight.
Thunderation! I’ll never understand the ways of a woman, he thought, shoving his hands in his pockets. Is she interested? . . . Or not? Maybe it was all in his head.
He didn’t have time to dwell on it—not now. He needed to find whoever was stealing cattle right from under John’s nose—and his own. He knew that John had the influence to see to it that he lost his job, but he wasn’t all that concerned about that. He was more worried about some no-account rustler still hanging around. He’d been wrong thinking they’d fled further south.
As he climbed into bed, he muttered, “A good night’s sleep, and I’ll be ready to face down a rustler . . . or a woman who can’t make up her own mind!”
The next thing he knew a loud rapping on the downstairs door roused him from deep sleep. Jedediah saw it was near daylight as he dragged on his pants and hurried downstairs.
Jedediah flipped the lock and swung the door open, and it was Monty that strode inside, breathing heavily.
“For Pete’s sake, Jed, I declare you could sleep through an earthquake!” Monty complained.
“You’re lucky I stopped long enough to pull my pants on! Now what in tarnation—”
“Jed.” Monty stopped him with an abrupt movement of his hand. “John never came home last night after he spoke to you. I fear something bad has happened to him—a bear, or accident—”
“Give me a few minutes. My posse will be meeting me in fifteen minutes—”
“We’ve searched all over the Cross Bar with no luck, and Judith has worried herself sick.”
Jedediah remembered how angry and hotheaded John seemed yesterday. He sure did hope John was holed up someplace during the night for a good reason. Jedediah didn’t want to worry Judith unnecessarily.
“I’m leaving to go back to the ranch. I’ll let you know if he shows up,” Monty said, wheeling out the door.
“Good idea. Judith may need protection.”
Monty whipped back, his eyes flicking back and forth nervously. “You know something I don’t?”
“Nah . . . was just thinking out loud.” But something about it all did not sit right with Jedediah. It might have to do with the rustlers, but until he knew for certain, he wouldn’t speculate.
“Catch up with you later, Jed.” Monty flew down the porch steps, mounting his horse before Jed could get back inside.
Jed hurriedly finished dressing, holstered his Colt, and grabbed his Winchester. In less than a half hour,
he and his men were hightailing it out of town.
This time they’d travel south, looking for clues along the Cross Bar property line. They spread out in a wide fan, the early sun high enough to likely show up whatever might lead them to the rustlers.
Whoever or however many were involved, Jedediah found nothing of interest. He finally reined Charlie in, propping his arms across his saddle horn. It looked like they’d been outsmarted again, but at the same time he didn’t want to rush to judgment. He didn’t want to even think it, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it could be Bob or Cody. They worked for John—it’d be easy to know where the cattle grazed, then tip off a partner in crime when the coast was clear.
Along about midday with the sun baking down on his back, he slid off his horse, reached for his canteen, and took a long swig. Thank God for water! he thought as he also watered his horse. He’d sure be glad when autumn set in. Just as he was about to mount again, he noticed grass compressed in an unusual way near some underbrush. It was strange enough that he cautiously moved in that direction.
He was not prepared for what he saw, and he’d seen many a dead body. John lay sprawled on his back, a trail of dried blood down his face and shirt. Most likely he’d seen his killer face-to-face. Jed thought how horrible that must have been as he crouched down for a closer look.
Scenes flashed across his memory—other times he’d seen men with no life left in them, faces slack or distorted in agony. He shook his head, as if that would dislodge the memories. It just wasn’t right that men killed their own to satisfy their greed, their search for happiness. Or vengeance. But he’d pulled the trigger—or given the order—when it was required by western law and justice, just as it must be when soldiers in battle had no choice but to defend freedom.
Somehow it was all so very sad, like the stillness of the day, the sizzling heat, and the buzzing of flies about John’s bloody head. He was glad Judith wouldn’t have to see it.
He fired a shot in the air to signal the posse, and soon the others came riding up.
The two men stood in the yard at the Cross Bar. “Judith is taking it very hard, no family and all . . .” Monty’s voice drifted off as he reported the situation to Jedediah. “I can’t stand to see a woman cry,” he said with a shake of his head. “John was a good man, good to all his ranch hands.”
“We can’t leave her alone here,” Jedediah said. “I have an idea.” He motioned to James and Kit. “James, take Kit with you and ride back into town. See if you can get Miss Patience to come out to the ranch and be with Judith. The woman could use another woman’s touch about now, and I can’t think of a better person to comfort her.”
James and Kit galloped away as Jedediah contemplated what else to do. “Men, let’s stick together and hunt down the killers that did this. They can’t be too far away.”
“I’m coming with you,” Monty said, and Jedediah nodded.
Patience and Emily had finished the lunch dishes and were about to plan the supper menu when Emily hurried to answer the doorbell.
“Two cowboys in the parlor to see you, Patience,” Emily told her quietly.
“Cowboys? The only one I know is Cody.”
“It’s not Cody, but they look like they have serious business,” Emily said. “So I took them to the parlor.”
“Mmm . . . okay. I’ll go see what this is about. You could start on supper ideas.”
When she entered the parlor the cowboys stood. Cowboys or not, they have good manners, she thought, and they’ve also removed their hats.
“What can I help you gentlemen with? Are you inquiring about a room?”
The young one looked at his companion and the older one answered. “I’m James and this is Kit. We’re part of Jed’s posse. Jed tells me that you know Judith Hargrove?”
“I do. Why? What is this about?” Patience was beginning to feel uneasy.
Kit looked down and twirled his hat. James said, “John, her husband, was ambushed last night. They found him—they found his body—when he didn’t return home.”
Patience drew in a sharp breath, her stomach a knot of pain. “Oh, how awful! Is Judith all right?”
“I couldn’t say for sure, but Jed wanted me to escort you to the Cross Bar to attend to her. She has no family here in Montana.”
“Oh, of course I will!” She turned toward the kitchen. “Let me tell Emily that I’m leaving and I’ll fetch my hat and handbag.”
Kit finally spoke. “We’ll wait outside for you, if that’s okay.”
“Yes, and I’ll be out right away.” Patience’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist. And to think they’d just had lunch with poor Judith!
By the time she had told Emily she was leaving and why, grabbed her handbag and hat, and returned to the parlor, one of the men had gone to the livery for a small buggy and had harnessed up his horse to it.
The three were quickly on their way back to the Hargrove ranch. Patience found herself leaning forward as if to spur the horse to greater speed. O Lord, help me to know what to say to Judith, how to help her. Then her thoughts went to Russell and her own terrible loss. What would have been most comforting to her back then?
As they drove up to the home where they’d enjoyed the lovely meal with Judith, Patience took a deep breath. James courteously helped her out of the buggy and up the steps to the double doors, already open. She took another breath, then stepped into the parlor. Judith was sitting on a large sofa, her face buried in a handkerchief, with Jedediah beside her.
“Don’t you worry, Judith,” he was telling her. “We won’t quit until we find whoever did this.”
The two of them looked over at Patience as she stood by the door. Judith was sobbing, and she tried to stand. Jed helped her to her feet, and Patience went straight to the poor woman. The two held each other tightly, and Patience soothed the devastated widow.
“I’m so, so very sorry, Judith,” she whispered. Judith pressed her face into Patience’s shoulder with heartbreaking cries. Patience looked at Jedediah and shook her head, tears in her own eyes. Instinctively she knew there were no words she could say that would console her new friend. Only time—a long time—would heal the wound. After several minutes, Judith pulled away to wipe her nose and eyes.
“Can I get you a cup of hot tea . . . anything at all?” Patience asked.
“No . . . nothing . . . I have a terrible headache.” Judith blew her nose once again.
“Is there anyone I can contact for you? Someone from your family?” she asked.
“I haven’t any family left.” She hiccupped, staring out the window. “There’s headache powder in the kitchen pantry.”
Jedediah motioned to Patience. “Can I talk with you?” He mouthed the words and nodded toward the kitchen.
Patience said, “I’ll bring you something for your headache.” Judith didn’t move a muscle but continued staring outside. Patience led the way to the kitchen. “This is all so very shocking, Jed. I feel so sorry for her. Do you think this has anything to do with the rustlers?” she asked him.
Jedediah’s face was etched with his own sadness. “I think it has everything to do with the rustlers. Do you think you could take her back to Creekside to stay a couple of days with you? I’d feel better about her safety. This was a cold-blooded killer.”
“Why, of course. I’ll pack up a few things for her, and you go ahead and suggest that to her while I make her tea with headache powder.”
“Yes,” he answered quietly, his hand on her arm. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I was sure that you would.” His eyes held hers in a steady gaze.
She blinked away her tears and covered his hand with hers. “I could do nothing less, Jed. I haven’t lost a husband but I lost a dear father . . . and someone else I cared for. I feel deep sympathy for her.” Patience squeezed his hand, and he turned his so their hands were grasped together.
“I’ll go speak with her then.” He turned and strode out of the kitchen. She dug around in the pan
try until she found the powder, then brewed a cup of tea for Judith. Poor soul. No family to share her grief with will be awfully hard.
Patience was determined, though, to support her new friend through the very difficult days ahead.
21
The trip back to Nevada City was quiet and solemn except for Judith’s soft weeping. Kit drove the two back in the borrowed buggy. He was thoughtful and gentle to Judith, helping her with her carpetbag and speaking in a quiet voice. It was obvious that Judith was well liked by the ranch hands.
Patience’s mother and Emily were at the door when she helped Judith up the steps and inside. She gathered that news of the tragedy must have already spread through town. “I’ve just made a pot of tea, Judith, or if you prefer I’ll make coffee,” Emily spoke softly.
“It doesn’t really matter . . . I—I can’t seem to think.” Judith pressed her handkerchief to her trembling mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, dear, for your terrible heartache,” Charity put in, shaking her head. “I just don’t understand how someone could shoot a person in cold blood, then leave him—”
“Mother,” Patience said, trying to keep her voice low yet firm without sounding irritated, “let’s give Judith a little time to herself, all right?”
Patience settled Judith on the settee. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Judith. You can sit here or lie back on a pillow while I prepare a room for you.”
“Oh, there’s no need, Patience,” Emily said quickly. “I’ll share your room, if that’s all right with you, and she can have mine. I’ve already changed the bedding and dusted,” Emily assured her.
“Oh, thank you, Emily. You’re such a dear,” Patience said.
Judith spoke up from her place on the settee. “I don’t want to put you out of your room, Emily, especially since I have a home full of rooms . . . and emptiness.” Judith’s tears had started again from eyes already swollen and red.
The Trouble with Patience Page 16
