A Promise to Believe In

by Tracie Peterson

  “I thought you might be the first one down today,” Patience said as he looked into the kitchen.

  Hank looked at her in surprise. “You did? Why?”

  “I felt the Lord put you on my heart. I got up extra early hoping you might come along so that we could talk.”

  “You felt the Lord put me on your heart? What does that mean, exactly?”

  Patience laughed and held up the pot as if he’d asked for coffee instead. “How about a cup?”

  Hank nodded. “That was actually the very thing on my mind. I couldn’t sleep last night. Too much excitement, I guess.” He took the mug she offered.

  “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll explain what I said,” she offered.

  “All right.” Hank followed her to a small table and chairs there in the kitchen. A part of him wanted to run from what she had to say, but an equally strong part hoped desperately for answers.

  “It will be warmer here. The stove is heating up nicely.” She smiled as if to disarm him, but Hank didn’t find it reassuring.

  Sitting, Patience folded her hands together. “I tried to just go to sleep after all that had happened last night, but your face kept coming to mind. I didn’t know why, but I knew I was supposed to pray for you. Then this morning I woke up much earlier than usual. I felt wonderfully refreshed and knew that the Lord wanted me to get up and start my day. Then you came to mind again, and I just knew He would bring you to me to talk.”

  “How could you?” The very thought of God preplanning anything on his behalf was more than Hank could imagine.

  Patience shrugged. “The Lord knew you would need to discuss whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

  Hank nursed the coffee for a moment, then looked up. It seemed crazy to be talking to this stranger, but he couldn’t for the life of him refrain.

  “I heard the Bible verse you shared last night with Gwen.”

  Patience nodded. “Go on.”

  “My father was hanged. He was thought to be a horse thief and murderer, and a lynch mob strung him up. A few weeks later, they found out he wasn’t the guilty party, but of course, it was too late. There was nothing they could do about their mistake. Oh, they passed the hat for my mother, but it was a poor way of apologizing.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “It wasn’t like he couldn’t have done it,” Hank said. “I mean, when we heard about it, we figured he was guilty, just like everyone else. He wasn’t a good man. He was a womanizer and a gambler—and broke my mother’s heart on a daily basis.”

  Patience took it all in, nodding and murmuring. Hank found her simple acceptance of his words to be somewhat comforting. Most ladies would never have wanted to hear such a story.

  “Shortly after my father died, my Sunday school teacher made a point in class of telling me my father was cursed to hell. He used that verse.”

  “How awful. I do dislike when people manipulate the Bible to fit their particular agenda,” Patience said sadly. “That must have been quite hard on you. How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  “Very nearly a man.”

  “They were definitely worried about my becoming a man—especially a man like my father. I think that old teacher thought he would scare the devil out of me and save my soul.”

  “But he didn’t, did he?” She smiled. “He only made you want to get farther away from God.”

  Hank looked at her and shook his head. “How did you know that?”

  “Oh, it just stands to reason, Hank.”

  “I felt so alone. I guess . . . I still feel that way, Mrs. Shepard.”

  “Jesus felt it, too. He knows exactly how you hurt.”

  Hank laughed. “I don’t believe that. He’s the Son of God. How could He truly know the feeling of being alone—of being so condemned by everyone around you, there’s no place you can go where you feel wanted?”

  “Because Jesus took on the sins of the world. He became an abomination to everyone, but especially to His Father in heaven.”

  She surprised Hank by reaching out across the table and taking hold of his hand. The motherly gesture was nearly his undoing. “You have to understand—Jesus went to the cross knowing what it meant. He knew he’d become a curse. He knew the price for His actions and yet He went willingly. The pain of being separated from God was so intense that Jesus actually cried out from the cross, asking God, ‘Why hast thou forsaken me?’”

  “I guess I’ve asked that myself,” Hank admitted. He put down the cup and looked Patience in the eyes. “I’m still asking it.”

  There was no condemnation in her gaze. “You don’t have to ask anymore. He hasn’t forsaken you. He stands ready to welcome you with open arms. You have only to ask His forgiveness and accept Jesus’ sacrifice for yourself. Then you won’t be alone anymore.”

  “I want to believe that, but all of these years . . . well . . . I’ve been so bitter—angry. I felt it so wrong and unfair that my mother should have to suffer the shame she endured. God seemed cruel.”

  “He allows things to happen that we can’t understand, Hank. Jerry tells me it’s because we live in a sinful world that chooses to defy God. But I have to admit, sometimes I just don’t understand it at all. Jerry says that’s where faith comes in. Bad things will happen. People are heartless and cruel, and there doesn’t always seem to be any hope of justice. But there is. Jesus is that hope.”

  Hank could see that she thoroughly believed what she was saying. He wanted to believe it, too. Was that possible? He suddenly felt so tired—so alone. He was that twelve-year-old boy again, longing to feel accepted . . . to be whole. It nearly overwhelmed him. Could he really find peace in trusting God? Could it be that simple?

  “I know you want to believe,” Patience said, as if reading his mind. “I know you want that more than anything else.”

  Hank fought back the roiling emotion that threatened to overpower him. “I do want it.”

  “Then pray with me, Hank. Pray right here and now and make it right between you and God.” She smiled. “I promyou, He won’t be surprised, and He definitely won’t turn away.”

  Hank looked at her for a moment, then glanced back at the doorway to the kitchen. “Here? Now?”

  She nodded. “What better time?”

  Dave Shepard stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He knew he should get up and start his day, but for the life of him, he felt unable to even move from the bed. His mind pored over memories of the night and day before. He’d acted like a fool in the barn. When he’d seen Lacy out there working to put the horses away, he’d never intended to upset her.

  He’d heard threats against her and knew that her interference with the local ranchers and their workers was not boding well for her. Dave only wanted to keep her safe. He cared about her—more than he liked to admit.

  Why couldn’t he like Beth instead? Beth was sweet and seemed to enjoy being a lady. Lacy was something entirely different.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes. Lacy was different, all right. Beth was pleasant and appreciated his company, but Lacy hated him and thought he didn’t care about her father’s death. She thought he was lazy. But nothing could be further from the truth. He didn’t want her to get hurt.

  “Lord,” he prayed, “I don’t know what you have in mind for me where Lacy Gallatin is concerned, but I could sure use a little help.”

  He thought of the kiss he’d given her. He never should have touched her. It only served to ignite a fire in him that he knew was impossible to control on his own. Dave already found himself thinking about her every day, but now she would haunt his nights. He could only plead with God for the strength to fight his emotions.

  When he’d seen her in the fire, so close to the flames, Dave had panicked. He’d taken hold of her and pulled her from the desk. The urge to hold her and ensure her safety had been overwhelming, but he’d fought it. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to her.

  But I can’t always be the
re to protect her, he thought with a heavy sigh.

  Lacy Gallatin was trouble. There was no way around that. If she didn’t end up getting herself killed, she might very well end up hurting someone else. Either way, it wasn’t something Dave wanted to see happen.

  Knowing that sleep was a lost effort, Dave opened his eyes and decided to face the day. He heard Lacy’s voice in the hall and smiled. She was arguing with Gwen about something.

  She’s always arguing with somebody about something, he thought, throwing back the covers with a smile. I might as well get in on it. After all, facing Lacy and her arguments was still better than not getting to be with her at all.

  Beth got a fire going in the stove. She was glad she’d laid it all out the night before. The wood caught quickly and crackled and flamed to life. It wouldn’t be long now before the stove would be hot, and she could get breakfast going. The morning was cold, but nothing like the winter dawns when they’d have to unthaw the bread and water before they could even start the meal.

  She couldn’t help but wonder when Gwen and Lacy might return. They should have been back the day before, but she figured the storm slowed them—maybe even stopped their progress altogether. No doubt they’d be along shortly. She hoped they’d found what Mr. Bishop was looking for. She’d be glad when he left them and returned to the East. He was a thorn in her sister’s side, and she didn’t appreciate the torment he’d caused them all.

  Taking up a bucket, Beth traipsed down to the hot springs. The warmth of steam coming off the springs felt good. It smelled of minerals—not all that pleasant, but she’d grown accustomed to it. She shivered at the brisk chill of the morning air as she made her way back to the house. It was nearly enough to send her back for a long, hot soak in the pool. And she might very well have chosen such an early-morning respite had it not been for the pounding she heard on the front door as she came back into the kitchen.

  Beth put the water aside and quickly went to see who might be arriving at Gallatin House at such an hour. She opened the door to find an entire congregation of men standing on her porch.

  “Hello, ma’am,” the man nearest the door announced. “I’m Adrian Murphy, and these are my men. We’re with the railroad.” He was tall and ruggedly handsome. Beth immediately thought of the many romances she’d read. He looked like the perfect hero.

  She forced her mind back to his comment. “The railroad? There isn’t a railroad around these parts.”

  “There will be soon,” the man countered with a twinkle in his eyes and a broad grin, “if we can figure out the best route to lay track. But unless we can get a decent meal, I fear that might never happen. Some of my men are ready to mutiny unless I see them properly fed. We heard about the roadhouse and thought we’d give you a try . . . well, give it a try.” He smiled boldly, as if he wasn’t at all sorry for the blunder.

  Beth laughed and felt her knees grow weak. My, but he was a charmer! “Well, I suppose we can see to that. I’d hate to stand in the way of the railroad coming through.” The men chuckled at this as she stepped back. “You might as well come in and make yourselves comfortable. It will be at least a half hour before we can eat.”

  She watched the men as they came into the house. She counted twelve as they filed past. They took off their hats and gave her the briefest nod, some even commenting on her generosity. Oh, but she wished Gwen and Lacy were back.

  “Meals are two bits apiece,” she told them. “I haven’t gotten the fireplace lit yet, but I’ll get around to it now.”

  “You just go on ahead, ma’am,” Adrian insisted. “We can get the fire going, and two bits for a home-cooked meal sounds like a bargain, by my account.”

  Beth nodded. “Very well. Thank you. I’ll see to breakfast. I hope ham and potatoes will suit you. We’re nearly out of beef, and I haven’t yet gathered the eggs. If there are enough, I’ll fix those, as well.”

  “Sounds like a feast,” Adrian assured. “After living off beans and hardtack, I can guarantee you’ll get no complaints from us.” He winked and smiled at Beth, adding, “Especially when the cook is so pretty.”

  She felt her cheeks flush as she looked away. He certainly knew how to endear himself to a gal. Beth found herself humming all the way out to the chicken coop. It was just like one of the novels she’d read. A stranger came into town and swept the heroine off her feet with one single smile.

  Beth giggled, and the hens looked at her strangely as she began to gather the eggs. “I know I’m silly,” she told them, “but one can never dismiss the possibilities that true love can show up on your doorstep when you least expect it.”

  Several of the hens clucked at this, as if chiding her for her girlish ideals. Beth refused to be moved, however, and merely lifted her chin in defiance. “What do you know about it? You’re just chickens.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Major Worthington came bounding out to meet them as Hank, Gwen, and Lacy rode toward Gallatin House. The dog barked in greeting and wagged his tail to show his approval of their arrival.

  “He’s sure happy to see you,” Gwen commented. She dismounted and reached up to the horn to take down a large basket of eggs. It hadn’t been easy to keep them from jostling around, but she thought they’d made the journey in no worse condition than when they’d started.

  Hank stepped from his black and reached down to pet Major. “How are you, boy?”

  The dog barked again, and Gwen laughed. “I believe he’s telling you that he’s fine.”

  “I’ll take the horses to the Lassiters,” Lacy offered. She remained atop her mount and waited for Hank and Gwen to bring her their reins.

  Gwen noted noise coming from the house. “Sounds like a party going on, but I can’t imagine what it is at this hour.” She looked around. “There isn’t a stage.”

  “Maybe it’s just a few travelers on their own,” Lacy said, glancing at the house. “I’ll turn the animals over to Nick and get back here to help. Beth’s probably beside herself.”

  “Is there something I can do?” Hank asked Gwen as Lacy led the horses away.

  “I don’t know. There very well might be. I suppose we’ll know better after we go inside.” She hurried to the front door and opened it, only to have the cat streak through.

  “I guess he doesn’t much like the noise,” Hank suggested.

  “Calvin hates for his sleep to be disrupted.”

  Hank chuckled. “I know the feeling. Kind of like being awakened in the night due to the house being on fire.”

  Gwen put her hand to her throat. “I’m already mortified by what happened. You needn’t tease me.”

  “It was an accident,” Hank said with a smile. “The Shepards know that, and the damage was minimal. Make them a nice pie, and they’ll forget it ever happened.”

  Gwen relaxed. “I would, but Patience already makes the best pies in the county.”

  Inside the house, Gwen could see that Beth had her hands full. There were men everywhere. There must have been at least a dozen.

  “Beth?” Gwen maneuvered through the gathering as best she could. Making her way to the kitchen, she saw Beth moving with lightning speed. “Tell me what we can do. I have a basket of eggs, if that will help.”

  Her sister looked up and an expression of relief passed over her face. “They all want breakfast. I’ve been working at it for about half an hour, but I feel like I’m not making any headway. The ham is heating in the oven and the potatoes are done, but I haven’t begun to work on the eggs or any oatmeal.”

  “That’s probably for the best—at least where the oatmeal is concerned,” Hank said with a grin. “Gallatin House oatmeal leaves a great deal to be desired.”

  Beth shook her head. “Don’t start in on that. I don’t have time to so much as sass you for such comments.”

  Gwen nodded. “Hank, please go fetch some water and more wood. You’ll find the cart at the back of the house, and the hot springs run free, just beyond the pool. Woodpile and chopping block are bet
ween the outhouses and shed.”

  “No problem,” Hank replied. He took off his coat and tossed it on a peg by the back door.

  Beth looked at Gwen quizzically. “So you’re calling him Hank now?”

  Gwen laughed. “We just spent a good deal of time on the trail together, and I very nearly got him killed last night after I set fire to the Shepard place.”

  Beth nearly dropped a bowl of biscuit dough. “What?”

  “It’s a long story,” Gwen said, pulling on an apron. “Suffice it to say, I knocked over a candle, and Lacy’s quick thinking saved the day. Look, I’ll get to scrambling up some eggs. Get the ham out of the oven and get those drop biscuits in. Then slice up the ham.”

  Lacy arrived at that moment. The men seemed more than a little bit interested in the youngest Gallatin girl, and some even followed her partway into the kitchen.

  “I haven’t got time for you boys just now,” Lacy told them. “Not if you want to eat.”

  “I can’t believe we’re getting breakfast with three beautiful women,” one of the men declared. “I ain’t seen nothin’ but these miserable mutts for weeks.”

  The other men laughed and agreed that the girls were a wonderful change of scenery. Gwen gazed toward the ceiling. They were always getting comments from their male customers, and quite often, proposals of marriage soon followed.

  Getting to the tasks at hand, the three sisters worked in perfect unison. They knew what was needed to make order out of chaos, and it wasn’t long before the trestle tables were set with dishes and food.

  “So I understand you men are scouting out routes for the railroad,” Gwen said as she made the rounds with the coffeepot. She spotted Hank and motioned him to sit. “You might as well join them. I know you didn’t have anything to eat before we left.”

  A man with light brown hair spoke up. “I’m Adrian Murphy. I’m heading up this expedition for the Northern Pacific Railroad.”

  “I heard they went bankrupt after the panic of ’73,” Hank said, taking a seat at the end of the table.