Beside Still Waters

by Tracey V. Bateman

  “I’ve brought you some leftover chicken pie from last night’s supper.”

  “Thank you, Ma. I am a little hungry.”

  The painful process of sitting up left Eva breathless. Ma set the plate in her hands and handed her a napkin. “You can see a little better today?”

  Eva nodded. “A little.”

  Ma sat on the chair next to the bed, rustling pages. She read the Bible to her four times a day. At breakfast, lunch, supper, and bedtime. Eva had tried to dissuade her, but this was not something on which Hope Riley was willing to compromise. Resolve flowed over Eva. No sense in fighting it.

  “Today we read from Psalm 118. ‘O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: because his mercy endureth for ever. Let Israel now say, that his mercy endureth for ever. Let the house of Aaron now say, that his mercy endureth for ever. Let them now that fear the Lord say, that his mercy endureth for ever. I called upon the Lord in distress: the Lord answered me, and set me in a large place. The Lord is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me?’”

  Eva gave a short laugh. “What indeed?”

  Ma’s silence filled the room.

  “Well?” Eva asked, hearing the anger in her own voice. “Don’t you see my point?”

  “Yes, darling. But sometimes bad things happen to good people due to the wickedness of mankind. That has nothing to do with the goodness of God.”

  “Then why does God promise protection? Why does He say angels will guard us? Why even pretend to be God if He can’t keep us safe? Or if He can, why didn’t He?”

  The shaking of Eva’s faith over the past few days had left her feeling emptier than she’d felt in her entire life. Since childhood, she’d known that God was almighty, sovereign, omnipotent. She’d felt securely tucked in the cocoon of her sheltered life and her large, protective family. She hadn’t needed to question her faith, because she’d never faced any real ordeals. Until now. And now she knew that God wasn’t who He claimed to be.

  Bitterness seeped around purity until her innocence was all but gone. Smothered by hatred.

  “What if I ask Greg to come and speak with you? You might find comfort in confiding in a parson.”

  “No thank you, Ma. I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, honey. Don’t turn your heart away from Jesus. He’s the only One who can get you through this time of sorrow and pain.”

  “I didn’t turn away from Him, Ma. He turned away from me.”

  seven

  Rain beat down without mercy on Jonesy and the two men as they set out at dusk. Getting the two out of the jail unnoticed couldn’t have been easier. Between the musicale and the drenching rain, not many people ventured out. And those who did weren’t interested in three men riding away from town. Jonesy had brought two extra horses from home. He’d unlocked the cell and walked them out the front door without a lick of trouble.

  “Look here, mister,” Randy whined. “You’re gonna have to untie us, or we ain’t gonna be able to make it through this mud. My horse is about to toss me off.”

  Jonesy glanced at Timothy, who appeared to be having no trouble at all with his mount. Randy was obviously faking it.

  Jonesy knew better than to untie the men. If he was going to meet up with the man who had violated Eva and make sure he got what he deserved, he had to keep the upper hand with these two—especially Randy. “If you fall off the horse, you’ll walk.”

  “You ain’t got no heart, do ya?” But he sat up straighter in the saddle and stopped struggling, just as Jonesy had suspected he would.

  By the time they’d ridden for two hours, the rain had stopped, the clouds had rolled back, and a bright moon lit their path. Jonesy allowed no stops. For any reason. The men rode in silence, listening to the occasional sounds of wolves howling in the distance, the hooting of owls, the horses’ hooves pounding the trail.

  When the morning sun broke through ahead of them, Jonesy remembered the morning he’d met Eva. Her indignation at falling in the river. Her smile that lit the morning like the dawn.

  Then the memory of her battered body ripped through him.

  “How much farther?” Jonesy’s tone was gruff, leaving no room for foolishness.

  “A couple hours,” Randy replied. He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You know, my gang ain’t gonna let you just walk outta there with one of our own.”

  “I don’t need them to let me do anything,” Jonesy growled. “If I’m holding a gun to their leader’s head, they’ll hand him over.”

  “Why are you doin’ this, anyway? It’s just a woman. Plenty more where she came from.”

  Timothy snorted. “Yeah, plenty more.”

  Repulsed, Jonesy kept his thoughts to himself. Why was he going to all this trouble to find the man who had hurt Eva? Simple. The only way she would ever be free was if she knew the man would not be coming back.

  Besides, that horrible creature had to be punished for what he had done.

  And according to Mr. and Mrs. Riley, Eva was ashamed. Tears of mercy threatened to spill over. How could she believe she was to blame for anything that had happened to her?

  Randy’s grating voice cut through his musings. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Shut up. My reasons are my own. Besides, someone like you would never understand.”

  “What do you mean by that? I ain’t good enough?”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Randy didn’t respond.

  Jonesy’s conscience pricked him. He knew every hair on Randy’s head was numbered by the God of love and grace. Despite the contempt Jonesy felt for the man, he knew God loved him.

  “Maybe you just never had a chance to be the kind of person you were meant to be, Randy. I don’t know.” The offering cost him. He had no desire to be anything but brutal to this man. Even if he wasn’t the one who did the ultimate damage to Eva, Randy had been about to slice her throat and steal her horse the day he’d come upon them on the road. He was no better than the rapist. “Any man who could hurt Eva doesn’t know the kind of love I have for her.”

  “I loved a woman once,” Randy replied in his defense.

  Jonesy doubted it. Still, they had a long ride ahead of them, so why not play along to pass the time? Timothy seemed to be far away somewhere in his mind. “If you really loved someone, tell me about her.”

  “I ain’t telling you nothin’ about nobody.”

  “Have it your way.”

  Randy turned in his saddle and stared at Jonesy. The man’s frown cut deep grooves between his eyes. “She was nice to me.”

  “And that made you fall in love with her?”

  “Yep.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Cynthia. Her pa was the town preacher.”

  “Really?” Jonesy hadn’t meant to say the word out loud, but he’d expected Randy to say the woman was a saloon girl who had to be nice to him as part of her job.

  Apparently offended by Jonesy’s surprised tone, Randy snorted. “You don’t think I can fall for a good girl?”

  “I guess you could. But what good girl would return your feelings?”

  “If you’re goin’ to insult me, just forget the whole thing.”

  With a shrug, Jonesy let it go. After a minute or two, Randy resumed the conversation as though he’d never been offended.

  “It was my first time in jail. I was young and not so fat. The ladies seemed to have a thing for me.” He grinned.

  Jonesy was hard pressed not to spit. “I’m sure they did.” In Randy’s mind, maybe. “So how did an outlaw meet a pretty preacher’s daughter?”

  “Her ma fixed supper for the prisoners, even though she had a big family of her own to feed. Cynthia was the oldest of ten young’uns. One day when her mama was laid up having a baby, she came in to give us our food. The sheriff was busy, so she had to bring us our basket herself.” He drew a sharp breath as though reliving the memory. “She didn’t shy away from me like most other respectable women.”

  “I can unde
rstand why you took a shine to her.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her hair was like corn silk. When she handed me a plate, she looked right into my eyes and smiled.”

  “So maybe she wasn’t such a good girl after all?”

  A growl crawled from Randy’s throat. “I don’t like your tone.”

  “Well, I don’t like that you almost killed Eva.”

  Randy’s eyes took on a reflective stare. Jonesy’s statement had apparently hit home.

  “What happened with Cynthia?”

  A breath lifted Randy’s shoulders. “Her ma was laid up for quite a spell, so Cynthia brought the food every day.”

  “The sheriff allowed a young woman to bring dinner to a bunch of thieves?”

  “More than that. He let her stay and talk to me. She brought her Bible and read out of the Good Book.”

  “Ah, so the jail was Cynthia’s mission field.”

  “I guess. But it was more than that between her and me.”

  Apparently Randy really had cared for someone.

  “Since I was just the lookout and didn’t hurt anyone or steal anything, I got out before the rest of them.”

  “So then you started courting Cynthia, I guess?” Jonesy said it flippantly, sarcastically. No respectable family would allow an outlaw to court the town sweetheart and preacher’s daughter.

  But the sarcasm seemed lost on Randy. “Her pa offered me the barn loft to sleep in, for good honest labor. I didn’t care too much for farmwork, but I’d have done anything to be near Cynthia.”

  Jonesy understood that feeling.

  “I went to church regular-like with her family and finally understood about Jesus.”

  The holy name coming from this outlaw’s mouth shot through Jonesy like an arrow piercing his heart. How could a man like Randy know Jesus?

  His face softened. “Shortly after that, I married her.”

  “Married?” Jonesy hadn’t expected that. “What happened?”

  “She died just three months later. Snakebite.” He sniffed, then cleared his throat. “She had just told me we were going to have a baby.”

  “I’m truly sorry, Randy.”

  “She wanted to name him Luke, after my pa.”

  “Maybe you do know how I feel about Eva, then. Think about Cynthia next time you or one of your pals is about to rape a woman.”

  Anger flashed in the black eyes. “I ain’t never done anything of the sort. And I wouldn’t have let Pete do it if I hadn’t been locked up in here. So it’s your own fault that happened to your girl. If I hadn’t been in jail, he wouldn’t have done it.”

  Anger boiled Jonesy’s blood. This man had the nerve to blame him? “If I hadn’t stopped you that day, Eva would be dead. So don’t pretend you’re any better than Pete.” The name of Eva’s attacker tasted foul in Jonesy’s mouth. He spat on the ground.

  A loud snort from Timothy diverted their attention. He jerked his head up. “Are we almost there?”

  “Boy,” Randy said with disgust, “were you sleeping?”

  “I guess so.” He gave a sheepish grin. “Ma always says I kin sleep just about anywheres.”

  Jonesy shook his head and retreated to his own thoughts. He didn’t want to hear about these outlaws’ mothers. It was bad enough that he now saw Randy as more than a thug. The man obviously suffered from deep inner wounds. If Cynthia hadn’t died, Randy would probably be a respectable farmer with a wife and a crop of children by now.

  Bitterness, anger, and unforgiveness could blacken any man’s soul. That’s why Jonesy had to bring Eva’s attacker to justice. Give her a chance to heal. Then the forgiveness could begin.

  He looked at Randy, a big, brawny man with blood on his hands and the end of a rope facing him someday. A man who had loved so deeply he couldn’t bear the loss. As Jonesy watched Randy’s slumped shoulders, he thanked God for grace.

  When Eva opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that she could actually see the morning sun shining through the bedroom window. She squinted against the brightness she’d been unable to see for the past few days.

  Having her sight restored raised her spirits considerably. She’d ask Ma to have Lily pick out some new dime novels so she would have something to help pass the time. Maybe she’d even ask for a book of poetry. Jonesy had forced her to listen to it so much, she’d actually grown fond of Lord Byron.

  Jonesy. Eva’s heart picked up a few beats as his image flickered in her mind. She would have been planning a wedding right now if …

  If only …

  “There.”

  Jonesy jerked his head up at the sound of Randy’s voice. The first words between them for two hours.

  “In that cliff. There’s a cave.”

  “You have horses in a cave?”

  “That’s where we brand them. Every couple of days, one of us takes two horses and heads to Oregon City to sell them.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you’re going to give me that information just like that?”

  “Don’t matter none anyway. You ain’t gonna make it out of this alive.”

  “I will.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Jonesy cautiously rode a couple of miles more until they reached the bottom of the cliff. Then he dismounted and lifted his pistol from his holster. He grabbed his extra rope and nodded at Timothy. “Get down.”

  Timothy unlooped his bound wrists from the pommel of his saddle and dismounted.

  “Over there,” Jonesy said, pointing the barrel of his pistol to a tree. “Sit down.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “I only need one prisoner. And I have a feeling your friend is more important to the rest of your gang than you are.”

  Timothy sat still while Jonesy tied him to the tree, then took the boy’s handkerchief from his pocket and tied it through his mouth. “Sorry, but I can’t have you calling out a warning.”

  Jonesy looked up warily at Randy. Standing a safe distance from the horse, he nodded to the outlaw. “Your turn. Get down.”

  Randy dismounted awkwardly. Jonesy regretted that he couldn’t gag Randy, too, but he didn’t want to holster his pistol with the man’s powerful legs still free.

  “All right,” Jonesy said. “Let’s go. Slow. And don’t try anything. As soon as I have Pete, I won’t try to hold you.”

  He glanced down at Timothy. “You’ll be all right. They’ll come and untie you as soon as I’m gone.”

  Timothy’s eyes widened, but his focus went over Jonesy’s shoulder.

  “Drop the gun.”

  Dread clenched Jonesy’s gut at the unfamiliar voice. He turned slowly. Two men stood holding guns on him. One, who looked identical to Timothy, was wearing a pair of buckskin chaps and a ripped calico shirt.

  Jonesy knew better than to try anything stupid. He tossed his pistol forward.

  “Good to see you, Al,” Randy said, a chuckle rumbling in his barrel chest. “This fool thought he’d walk outta here with Pete.”

  “Pete?” The redhead kept his rifle on Jonesy but turned to Randy. “We thought he was with you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jonesy.

  Al sneered and backhanded him hard across the jaw. “Shut up.” He nodded to the redhead. “Untie Randy and your dim-witted brother.”

  “This feller’s girl got attacked,” Randy said while Timothy’s brother dismounted. “We figured Pete did it and ran off to find you.”

  “Pete got another one?” Anger marred Al’s brow. “You know what I told him after the last one.”

  Randy nodded. “Guess that’s why he didn’t come lookin’ for you. We probably ain’t gonna see him again.”

  Panic seized Jonesy. “You mean to tell me Pete’s not here?”

  Al glared. “I told you to shut yer mouth.”

  Jonesy glared at Randy. “We had a deal.”

  “I kept my part of the bargain. I brung you to the gang, didn’t I?”

>   “You knew Pete wouldn’t be here. I’m a day away from Eva, and that monster could still be around Hobbs. How am I going to protect her?”

  “That ain’t our problem, mister,” Al broke in.

  Jonesy kept his focus on Randy. “Wouldn’t you have given anything to keep Cynthia safe?”

  Randy’s face reddened, and his eyes flashed in anger. “Shut up about her.”

  “What if someone like Pete had snuck around watching her for two weeks and then violated her? Almost killed her?”

  “Shut up!” Randy stepped forward until they were nose to nose, his rancid breath nearly choking Jonesy.

  “Enough of this,” Al barked. “We’re pulling out with the last two horses tonight. And we ain’t takin’ an extra man, so move outta the way.”

  His words sliced through Jonesy like an ax head, but he refused to be deterred. “Think about it, Randy.”

  “Cynthia died a long time ago.” He nodded toward Al and the twins. “This is all the family I got left. If I turn against them, I’m alone.”

  “Turn against us?” Al frowned. “You thinking about being a turncoat?”

  “No.”

  “Then let’s get it done.” Al handed him a knife. “Use this. We don’t want to make any noise.”

  Jonesy saw hesitation mar Randy’s expression. He jumped on it. “Randy, what would Cynthia want you to do?”

  The second the words left his lips, Randy’s face darkened. He approached with utter hatred flashing in his eyes. “I told you not to talk about her anymore. I’m done remembering.”

  Randy raised the knife to Jonesy’s throat.

  He returned the man’s murderous gaze with unflinching dignity, though everything in him screamed to beg for his life.

  A blast of gunfire sounded. The twins dove for cover.

  Randy landed with a thud on the ground. He clapped his hand to a bleeding shoulder and looked up at Jonesy with accusing eyes. “You double-crossed me.”

  Jonesy glanced at the sheriff, who had been following them since they left Hobbs, then turned back to Randy. “Now we’re even.”

  Al dropped with the next blast from Billy’s gun.

  Jonesy dove for his pistol, which the outlaws hadn’t bothered to retrieve from where he’d dropped it.