Love's Compass

by Gade, Carla; Franklin, Darlene;

  He hurried back to camp. Charlie had taken to attending the chapel service with Sarah in the evenings, so maybe he could catch up with him before he left for the night.

  “I like the stories.” Sarah sat with Muriel and Helen inside the chapel tent. Benny and Abe were busy talking with a member of the kitchen crew. God had done a mighty work tonight. “Was the story Benny told about the lost sheep true?”

  Muriel’s mind went back to the time when she had assured Sarah that the stories in the Bible were true. How to explain? “It was a story that Jesus told. He wanted us to know that God looks for everyone who is lost.”

  “Am I lost?” Sarah asked. Her face remained impassive, but her voice was strained.

  “The Bible says we are all lost. We’ve all left the path God wants us to take,” Muriel said.

  “How do I find that path? Do I read the Bible?”

  Helen smiled. “I never read the Bible until a few days ago. The good news is that when we invite Jesus into our hearts, God sets us back on the path, and we’ll never lose it again.”

  Sarah looked from one woman to the other. “Even for the Diné? A Navajo like me?”

  Yes, Lord, yes. God did have a special work for Muriel to do among Sarah’s people.

  “For everyone. For me, for you. Do you want to invite Him in?”

  Sarah’s face broke into a smile. “Yes.”

  Chapter 7

  Mr. Rex Pride and Benny should not be out in this sun.” Sarah shook her head.

  Muriel groaned. Both men had swarthy complexions; maybe that saved them from suffering from the heat. Not so for her. Each day seemed worse than the last. Today the heat hung heavy, threatening rain without delivering on the promise. The damp towel Sarah used to keep her skin cool dried almost before she set it on her head. “What are they doing now?”

  “Benny is pointing the camera at the sky.”

  Storm clouds? Birds? Curious, Muriel looked up. A lone bird swooped before diving to the ground, lifting something in its claws as he rose in the air again. An eagle, perhaps, though not the white head of America’s national bird. “He is probably chasing the eagle.”

  “I can show you pictures of the bird. Other pictures, too.” Sarah moistened the towel again and replaced it on Muriel’s head. “Your Mr. Pride might like to film them. They were made by the Old Ones.”

  “Cave paintings?” Muriel had heard about them.

  “Not a cave. On the cliffs.” Sarah pointed in the direction of her village.

  “I’d love to see them. How far away are they? Can we walk there after chapel?”

  Benny and Rex were walking back. “He’ll probably want to start filming when he gets back here.”

  “It would be better if you come when you have the day. On Sunday.”

  Sunday. That was a good idea. Go to her village. Now that Sarah believed in Christ, perhaps they could begin a weekly Bible study. She’d ask Benny about that. “It’s decided then. I’ll come this week in the afternoon.” Although they were too far from any town to attend church, Muriel set aside Sunday mornings for worship.

  The two men walked down the canyon, laughing, talking, the most affable she had ever seen Rex. Benny was everything she could want in a man—a Christian, wholeheartedly devoted to the Lord, to spreading His word, a camerist whose passion for the new medium of film equaled her own, who was still single without a sniff of scandal attached to his name. At least not since he had come to know the Lord.

  So why were her eyes drawn to the irritating Rex Pride, who derided her faith at every opportunity? She sent up simultaneous prayers: Lord, save Rex and Lord, protect my heart.

  Rex paused long enough to take a peek through his binoculars. With any luck, Benny had caught some good footage of the eagle soaring in the sky today, talons extended. Magnificent bird. To think Benjamin Franklin had once wanted to make the turkey the national bird of the United States. He shook his head, glad better heads had prevailed on that issue.

  But those sheep with the magnificent big horns that seemed as much a part of this wild mountain country as the junipers and piñon trees that brushed the sky remained maddeningly elusive. He’d pin down Charlie for a time to go hunting. Put the actors in costume and capture them on the hunt. That could work….

  “You’ve had an idea.” Benny panted beside Rex, carrying the heavy camera over his shoulder.

  “Sorry, I got lost there for a minute imagining our actors going on a hunt after those bighorn sheep.”

  Benny lifted his eyes to the rock faces surrounding them. “They’re hard enough to climb even when we have ladders.”

  “How would you film it?” Rex looked sideways at his camerist. Benny relished challenges.

  The two men craned their necks to study the bare rock soaring above them. Rex’s foot encountered a rock, and he lurched sideways, knocking into Benny. His arms jerked like a windmill, and he fell. Rex reached out to help, but succeeded only in saving the camera from the same fate.

  “Don’t worry about me. You rescued the equipment.” A grinning Benny attempted to stand, but his ankle buckled beneath him. “The dangers of filming in the wild. Give a fellow a hand, will you?”

  Rex stretched out his right arm and helped Benny to his feet. He winced when he put weight on his left foot.

  “Is it serious?” Rex hefted the camera over his shoulder. “Can you walk back to camp?”

  “It’s just a sprain, but I aggravated an old injury.” A single step, and Benny almost toppled over. “I can make it back to camp if I can borrow your shoulder.”

  Rex kept from cursing the lost film time as Benny hobbled back into camp.

  Would they not get through a day without drama? Knowing he was the one who’d wanted to film the eagles didn’t help his mood.

  “No need to look so glum.” Benny’s hold on Rex’s shoulder tightened. “This ankle has been injured so often, I bring a pair of crutches with me when I go out to do a shoot like this. I won’t hold us up.”

  Rex scowled, and Benny added, “Perhaps I should say it won’t keep me down much. Getting those eagles on film was worth it.” He grinned, his trademark insouciant smirk. “I bet I can even get those shots of the bighorn sheep that you want.”

  Rex laughed at that. “You’re as bad as I am. You stop at nothing to get the shot you want.”

  “Nope. Not with my incredible talent”—Benny pointed to himself—“and the Lord working everything for my good, I can’t lose.”

  “There you go again. You talk like God is in charge of every pebble on the desert floor.”

  “That’s because He is. ‘He is before all things, and by him all things consist.’ He keeps the earth spinning on its axis.”

  “Then why didn’t He blow the rock out of your way to keep you from falling over it?” Rex kicked a small stone with the toe of his shoe.

  “God gave me eyes, didn’t He? He doesn’t say He’ll save us from our own stupidity or bad choices.” Benny hopped along another couple of steps.

  “So if something goes well, God gets the credit. And if something goes wrong, you take responsibility.”

  “Would you rather have a deity who made all your choices for you?” Benny shook his head. “No, God wants us to love Him by faith. Not because He’s some kind of magical Santa Claus who grants our every wish.”

  Rex considered that. “Faith in some invisible God that won’t reward good behavior. I’ll stick with doing things for myself.”

  Benny stopped his forward momentum, causing Rex to halt with him. He looked at Rex with serious blue eyes. “Sooner or later you’re going to run into something you can’t control. I pray you turn to God before you face that test. But whether sooner or later, whenever you turn to God, He’ll be there to catch you.” He placed his hand on Rex’s shoulder and started moving again.

  “Is the sermon over for the day?”

  “For now.” Benny grinned.

  “Good. Back to the sheep—I hope I can convince Charlie to take us hunting on
Sunday.”

  Benny hesitated. “But…”

  “Sundays are the only days we can get this done. We don’t have any other blocks of time.” His desire to demand Benny’s cooperation fought with recognition that he couldn’t command the man’s conscience. Benny’s strength of will, his drive to make something as good as possible, rivaled Rex’s own. Destroy that, and he might lose his unique skill behind the camera.

  Rex was forced to do something completely opposite to his nature: beg. “What? If you skip church one Sunday, do you think God will send a thunderbolt from heaven? Or maybe another flash flood?”

  “There’s the sheep again.” Balancing on one foot, he pointed to the rocks. “They’re beautiful.”

  “It’s just one week.” Rex allowed a wheedling tone to come into his voice. “Will you do it for me? For the film?”

  Benny gazed into the distance, uncertainty stamped on his face.

  “I was thinking maybe you could tell the parables from Luke 15 again. The idea of lost and found, of being so precious to God, resonated with Sarah.” Muriel hadn’t stopped chattering about the opportunity before them since Benny had returned from his afternoon expedition.

  “Muriel.” Benny’s arms crossed over his chest. He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I promised Rex I would go with him to film the sheep he’s chasing.” Hunching his shoulders, he raised a stricken face to Muriel. “Just one week. I didn’t think it would matter. I thought maybe we could talk about God while we were climbing around. He actually listened to me today.”

  “You’re going to evangelize Rex by forsaking basic Christian values?” Muriel was angry enough to bite the head off a rattlesnake and live to tell about it. She held her tongue in check. She would process her anger later. “I can’t believe you made that choice. And what message does it send to these people who need to hear the Gospel so desperately?”

  “I’ll tell Rex I can’t do it. That I’ve changed my mind.” Benny waved a crutch at her. “I have a good excuse.”

  “How did you expect to get around?” The image of Benny using the crutch as a ladder to climb the mountainside brought a smile to Muriel’s face. Even Jesus would need a miracle to climb a mountain with a sprained ankle.

  “It’ll be better by the weekend.” He tapped the ankle bone with the tip of his cane. “It goes out on me off and on. I know my limits.”

  “You’ve spent too much time around Rex.” Muriel stared at the high cliffs around her. She couldn’t imagine climbing to make a film, and yet some people did it for fun. Mountains were beautiful to look at, but she preferred New England’s gently rolling hills.

  Then again—on a second glance—she hadn’t seen such wild beauty anywhere. Ruined Hopes would bring this ancient beauty to wider audiences. If only the film could convey the golden glow of the cliffs at sunrise, the purple mountain majesty that Katherine Lee Bates immortalized in her song, the greens from sage to spruce to spring. “Capture this cathedral of God’s nature on film, Benny. Do it as best as you can. Bring this testimony of God’s creation to the world.” She wagged a finger in his face. “Just be sure you don’t make a habit of it.”

  He turned his attention in the same direction Muriel was staring. “I’ll do that. Pray for me, that I don’t lose my way. I don’t want to be the poster boy for ‘the path to hell is paved with good intentions.’”

  “Of course. Always.”

  “Are you two going to stop lollygagging and come back to work?” Rex called from the spot where he was talking with Fred.

  Benny glanced at Muriel, and they both smiled. “I’ll double my prayers for him. He’s more closed than anyone I’ve ever met.” He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You’ve found your mission field, Muriel, in the middle of this sparsely populated wilderness.”

  “I’ll tell my parents what you said. They prepared me for a quiet life in Maine, and I do the unthinkable and go into theater.” She shook her head, and her braids flapped against her shoulder. “God leads us down strange paths.”

  “That He does.” Benny hitched the crutch under his arms and pushed the camera tripod ahead of him.

  As they neared the set, Rex’s brooding stare burned brightly. His gaze flickered between Muriel and Benny. “I’m glad the two of you decided to leave your tête-à-tête and join the party.”

  He’s jealous. A tiny shiver of pleasure scurried up Muriel’s spine, and she hurried her steps to the staging area. Then he returned his attention to Fred and Irving Sampson. Irving was a dear, an aging leading man who had made a successful transition to splendid old man of the stage. He oozed authority and dignity as the chief of his people. Rex motioned for Muriel to join them.

  “I was telling Fulton and Sampson that I’m giving the story a new slant.” Rex scowled.

  Muriel refused to be intimidated. “It is just now time to start filming for the afternoon. What do you have in mind?”

  He glowered but didn’t comment further on her lateness. “I am expanding on the Romeo-and-Juliet theme. Gruber and I are working on footage of local animals and we’re going to name the different families after those animals.”

  “Benny mentioned eagles and bighorn sheep.” Muriel wanted Rex to know that she was abreast of current developments. “Will you try to get some others?”

  “Those will be the primary clans. We’re going after those deer we see everywhere. I’ve heard stories about black bears.”

  “But I said I don’t want to get close enough to one of those critters to get his picture,” Benny said.

  “It’s still under discussion.” Rex glared at Muriel and Benny in turn, and she no longer felt quite so pleased about the jealousy. Not if he became even harder to work with.

  “I’ll let you take over the camera for all the black bears and rattlesnakes you want.” Benny grinned. “I’ll even point them out to you.”

  “My clan will be the Bighorn Sheep. Big and strong. We are working on a model of the horns.” Fred flexed his muscles. “Be careful of my wrath.” He turned to Muriel. “And you, my dear, are part of the Golden Eagle clan.”

  “Where we will soar above everyone else.” Irving sketched a bow. “Of course, we look down on the earth-bound sheep, who rely on brute strength.”

  “So no matter what Killdeer does, my father won’t approve.” Muriel nodded. “I see. I like it.”

  “Good. I’ll sketch out the changes to the scenes tonight.”

  The group split up, but Rex held Muriel back. “Your contract calls for approval over all changes to the script.”

  Muriel nodded. She demanded it, so that she didn’t end up appearing in a production of questionable moral values.

  Rex shifted his feet then turned his fierce gaze on her. “Thank you for your support.” His mouth twisted in a half smile.

  The great Rex Pride was thanking her? Warmth flooded her, followed by skin-tingling chills. “I want the same thing you want, a movie that tells a great story. A film that will lift up the audience.” She met his gaze, and something akin to respect flashed in his eyes.

  Muriel was never so glad for her experience at masking emotions as she was in that moment. Otherwise she would have melted into the ground, leaving her heart on a platter ready for him to scoop up in his capable hands.

  Chapter 8

  Muriel wished she were wearing Standing Corn’s dress instead of the skirt that dangled so close to the ground. She didn’t realize that the visit to the paintings would involve climbing up rocks as impossible as Rex’s quest for the bighorn sheep.

  “We are almost there.” Ahead, Sarah paused. The way she climbed, she could have had the same clattering hooves as those bighorn sheep instead of normal human feet.

  Grabbing ahold of a rock outcropping, Muriel pulled herself up to Sarah’s level.

  Her friend stood with her back to the wall, looking in the distance.

  “I come up here when I want to be alone.”

  Fighting a wave of dizziness, Muriel forced herself to look down and a
round. From her vantage point, she marveled anew at the ingenuity of the ancient cliff dwellers. No one today would have patience for such an undertaking. The time, strength, and ingenuity involved in building an entire community with such primitive tools seemed impossible.

  But the community built out of rock faded in comparison to the natural backdrop. And God spoke the universes into being, in six short days. In addition to majestic mountains, the cliffs reflected the colors of sand and dirt and blood, blasted by centuries of wind. Other places she saw heaps of loose, gray rock. Green carpeted the canyon floor, more green than she expected in such dry country. Yellow dotted bushes, like drops of sunshine. A fierce beauty, one that would take a sturdy people to survive. She looked at Sarah with renewed admiration.

  A gigantic circular hole in the earth, reinforced with thousands of rocks, stared up from the ground like an unblinking eye. She had never seen it before. She was pretty sure Rex hadn’t ever spotted it either, or else he’d make it a center point of the film. “What is that?”

  “A kiva.”

  Kiva. She tried the strong syllables on her tongue. “What is it, exactly?”

  Sarah hesitated. “Come with me. I will explain it to you when we reach the painting.” She handed Muriel a canteen. “Drink. We will take a break after we look at the paintings.”

  Muriel gathered her skirts above her ankles, deciding at this height, no one would notice. She should have taken Sarah’s advice and changed her clothes.

  “It is right there.” Sarah pointed to a ledge a little ahead of them.

  Muriel looked up. She saw paint, what looked almost like scribbling. An ancient Navajo alphabet? But she didn’t think Navajo was a written language. Curiosity sped her steps.

  Abruptly Sarah stopped moving. “Here it is. There are others, but this is one of my favorites.”