by Lisa Harris
Miss Young shook her head. “Today, they were God’s words. Never mine.”
“Then God was speaking mighty powerfully. You saved our lives.” He nodded his head in thanks. “I’m going to take the missus here to go sit down. It was quite a scare for us both.”
As the Carpenters left the room, Aaron glanced at Mr. Martin. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room, a glazed expression on his face. The man wasn’t going anywhere for the moment.
Aaron turned back to Miss Young. A rosy blush had returned to her cheeks, and he wasn’t certain if it was from the relief that the situation was over or from his nearness. He hoped it was because she shared the same feelings toward him he felt toward her.
“Mr. Jefferson—”
He pushed back an errant curl that hung across her cheek. “I think after all we’ve been through together, it’s time you called me by my first name. Do you mind?”
“Not at all…Aaron.”
He liked the sound of her voice when she said his name. And liked the feel of her in his arms.
“And please, call me Tara.”
He nodded. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he was going to first have to get Mr. Martin to the sheriff’s office and give her a chance to catch her breath after the ordeal.
“There’s one other thing you might want to know.” Tara looked up at him, her eyes wide with anticipation. “While we were talking, Mr. Martin showed me letters he’d found belonging to Mr. Schlosser. They were from my aunt.”
Fifteen
Tara felt her knees tremble, but this time it wasn’t from fear. She grabbed onto the counter to steady herself. Mr. Jefferson—Aaron’s—gaze hadn’t left her face, and there was something in his eyes she couldn’t ignore. From their first few encounters, she’d noted his interest in her despite their opposing goals, but there was something different lurking in the depths of his eyes today. Something deeper and more intense.
Could it be true that his feelings went further than mere attraction?
He fumbled with his hat between his hands. “I need to take Mr. Martin into town. Are you going to be all right?”
She nodded, not sure if she could speak anymore. “I…yes. I’ll be fine.”
He raised his hand toward her face as if he was going to stroke her cheek, then pulled his arm down. “I’d best be going.”
“Are you coming back?” She followed him into the dining area, conscious of the desperation in her voice, but unable to control it.
“Give me time to get him to the sheriff’s office, and I’ll return.” He rested his Stetson on his head. “We can look over the letters together.”
From the Carpenters’ front porch, she watched as he escorted Mr. Martin along the edge of the cornfield until they disappeared into the hazy horizon. She swallowed her disappointment. Part of her had longed for Aaron to stay and pull her back into his arms where she’d felt safe. To tell her how relieved he was she hadn’t been hurt.
Instead he’d promised to return…to see the letters.
Tara leaned against the wooden banister and tugged on the edge of her jacket. The endless fields of corn and apple orchards that had grown tiresome during the journey to Iowa and the first weeks that followed seemed to have taken on a richer hue. She took in a deep breath of the fresh air that brought with it the fragrance of honeysuckle and the rich scent of the fertile earth that made this land a farmer’s dream. A recent letter from her parents had urged her to return home to the ease of city life, but thoughts of what she had in Boston were coming fewer and further between. Just as Aaron had somehow stolen a corner of her heart, the vast state of Iowa had managed to do the same thing.
She could imagine staying…with him.
Tara shook her head and crossed the wide porch toward the front door. Truth was, it didn’t matter what the handsome lawman felt toward her. She might have noted a change in his expression, but something else, far more important, had just changed in her own life.
For the first time, she’d managed to completely trust in God and had faced her fears. The result had been greater than finding a stash of gold. What she’d experienced might not have had as far-reaching consequences as her aunt spying for the North or her parents’ involvement with the Underground Railroad, but nevertheless, her own actions had made a difference in the lives of three other people. Most importantly, she was struck with God’s faithfulness in the situation. Her words to Mr. Martin had not come from her own wisdom and understanding. God had given her the grace and courage she had needed for the moment.
“Tara?”
She stepped inside the house where the Carpenters sat side by side on the sofa. Mr. Carpenter’s arm was wrapped protectively around his wife, whose face was still paler than a winter’s snowfall.
Tara paused in the entryway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was worried. While she knew the couple to be resilient, such an ordeal, especially at their age, couldn’t be good for their well-being. “Are you both all right?”
Mr. Carpenter held his gold watch between the fingers of his free hand and continued to click the cover open and shut. “Only time I’ve been this scared is when Sam Barnett burst into our Sunday night prayer meeting with a rifle in his hands and whiskey on his breath. Poor Virginia. I thought the woman was going to faint over her husband’s scandalous behavior. Turned out, all he wanted was supper on the table. A few too many drinks had wrecked his thinkin’.”
Mrs. Carpenter frowned and nudged her husband with her elbow. “Gossip aside, we need to thank the good Lord it’s over.”
“You’re right.” Tara sat across from them on a worn chair. And at least no one had been shot…or fainted during today’s arduous situation. Including herself. “Mr. Jefferson is taking Mr. Martin to the sheriff’s office. I thought I’d make you both a cup of tea if you’d like. It might help you to relax.”
“That would be wonderful, dear.” Mrs. Carpenter leaned into her husband’s shoulder. “Looks to me as if today turned out to be a bit more exciting than collecting the eggs, wouldn’t you think?”
Tara placed her hand against her chest and let out a low chuckle, thankful for the lighter turn of the conversation. “I’ve decided that if I end up spending the rest of my life collecting eggs and milking cows, that will be thrill enough for me.”
Color began to come back into the older woman’s face. “Sometimes being heroic in God’s eyes simply means listening quietly and following His voice. Which is precisely what I saw you do with Mr. Martin.”
Tara shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t feel heroic by any means, but I can’t help but be reminded of the passage I read last night when God appeared to Elijah. The prophet waited through the violent wind, earthquakes, and even a fire to find God, yet He wasn’t in any of those.”
Mr. Carpenter nodded. “Instead He was in the gentle whisper many of us miss.”
“I’ve always believed that I had to do something big to serve God.” Pieces of the puzzle Tara had been struggling with for weeks began to come together. “I don’t know if I feel heroic, but I did hear God’s quiet whisper today.”
Mrs. Carpenter reached out to squeeze Tara’s hand. “Then you’ve learned a wise lesson that many fail to ever realize.”
Tara stood to start toward the kitchen, her thoughts still focused on their discussion. “I’ll go and make some tea now.”
“Tara?”
She turned back to face Mrs. Carpenter. “Yes?”
“Thank you for what you did today.”
❧
Aaron approached the Carpenters’ farm, hopeful that his entire life was about to change. No longer did he care what the letters contained. True, he would soon find out whether Miss Young—Tara’s—information regarding the gold would pan out or not, but his mind was focused on other things. He smiled at the thought of her name. Tara. The name was beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as the woman who wore it. For the first time in months, he’d found something worthwhile to pursue. Something far g
reater than the gold that he had chased after for so long.
Tara sat on the front porch, engrossed in something.
The letters.
His heart plummeted for an instant. What if her involvement with him reached no further than the gold? He’d know soon enough. Her face lit up when she saw him, bringing with it a sigh of relief on his part. No, he couldn’t be wrong. He’d seen the way she looked at him. It wasn’t simply about the gold.
Aaron dismounted from his horse, tethered the reins, then took the porch stairs two at a time. “Hi.”
“Hi.” She looked up at him and smiled.
He balanced his Stetson on one of the porch posts. Color once again tinged her cheeks. The fear that had edged her eyes had disappeared, leaving them bright and hopeful. She looked beautiful.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You’ll be glad to know that Mr. Martin is behind bars and will no doubt go to trial at some point.”
“I feel sorry for the man.” His assurances hadn’t brought about the continued smile he expected from her. “I think he’s overcome by the loss of his wife. He must have loved her so much. It’s heartbreaking, really.”
“True.” Aaron sat down beside her on one of the rocking chairs. “But the fact remains that we can’t take a chance that he does something like that again and shoots someone.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She held up the stack of letters. “I read through them.”
“And…”
No matter how hard his pulse pounded at the sight of her, or how much her presence distracted him, he still was anxious to find out the truth.
Tara flipped through the pages. “I’m certain that all four letters were penned by my aunt, and they weren’t sent through the mail. They were hand delivered by a private source. And as alluded to in her journal, Mr. Schlosser was one of my aunt’s trusted contacts.”
He scooted closer to her. “Do the letters talk about the gold?”
“Yes, and I think I’ve read enough of my aunt’s journal to put most of it together. But it’s not at all what I expected.”
“Really?” Aaron tried to read her expression, but he couldn’t. Disappointment? Loss? Relief?
He stared at the letters in her hands. They were the last link he had to the gold, and if they didn’t come through with a new lead, he was heading back to Washington to report to his superiors. His last trip back to the capitol if things went his way today.
She handed him the first page from the short stack of communication. “In early 1865, Mr. Schlosser was fighting against the South in Virginia. One of the prisoners started bragging about his part in stealing a large amount of gold from the US Army. Whatever the man said apparently was enough to convince Mr. Schlosser that he was telling the truth about the stolen cache.” She pointed to the bottom of the letter he held. “When my aunt found out about the gold from Mr. Schlosser, she believed that the money would aid the North in the war and decided to take it upon herself to find it.”
“She must have been quite a woman. She was working for her country during a dangerous time.” He scanned through the flowery-written letter before catching Tara’s gaze. “So what happened to the gold?”
“Following Mr. Schlosser’s information, she tracked the stolen cache to a farm outside Browning City, but when she got there it was too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
She offered him the second letter. “The details are scant at this point. All I can figure out is that someone got wind of the fact that she was looking for the gold. In any case, when she arrived at the farmhouse, three men, dressed in black, were in the process of removing the gold from the premises. She hid in a hayloft, then tried to follow, but ended up losing them. She wasn’t ever able to pick up their trail again. She even told the local authorities, but they never came up with a solid lead to find the men, either. It was as if the gold vanished into thin air.”
“Wow.” Aaron slapped the letters against his leg.
Her lips curled into a solemn frown. “It’s another dead end, Aaron.”
This time, he didn’t miss the disappointment in her eyes. He longed to reach out and hold her hands. To pull her into his arms and assure her that he didn’t care if she was a spy, a farmhand, or the president of the United States, for that matter. To him, she was everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman…in a wife.
But the timing wasn’t right yet.
Instead, he gripped the armrests of the rocker instead. “Are you disappointed?”
“To be honest?” She looked up at him from beneath her long, dark lashes. “I don’t think I care about the gold anymore.”
“I thought you had your heart set on finding it.”
“I did. At one time, anyway.” She brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. “In reading these letters, I had to wonder why my aunt never mentioned any of the details of her coming to Browning City and searching for the gold in her journal.”
“Maybe she stopped writing for a while.”
“Maybe, but what really surprised me was her last letter.” She ran her hand across one of the worn pages, then outlined her aunt’s signature with the tip of her finger. “She expressed feelings that her role as a courier wasn’t making an impact in the outcome of the war. That was why she wanted to find the gold.” Her eyes darkened. “I can’t understand how she could ever feel that way. She was one of the heroes of the war in my eyes.”
“She was a hero.” Aaron searched for an answer that didn’t sound pat. “Maybe, in her mind, she felt that passing information wasn’t important enough, and she wanted to do something bigger.”
Tara laughed, but he didn’t miss the frustration behind the gesture. “If you’re right, then what about me? I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to her. And she didn’t think that what she did was enough?”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to pass messages behind enemy lines or find a missing cache of gold to be of value.”
“I know.” For the first time since his arrival, her face brightened into a smile. “The truth is, while I may not have found what I was after, I have found something far more priceless. I’ve finally been able to realize that I don’t have to prove myself to be of value. I just need to serve God with my whole heart. Nothing more is required of me. Big or small, I just need to do it for Him.”
Aaron let out a low whistle. “You’re not the only one who needs to confess, then. I’ve lived my life seeking the wrong things. Did I ever tell you what my whole name is?”
Tara shook her head.
“Aaron Thomas Jefferson. My parents named me after one of their heroes, President Jefferson.”
She arched her brow. “A big name to live up to.”
“And in turn, I’ve spent every moment working to live up to my family’s expectations. I’ve done the same things spiritually, as well, in trying to work for my salvation. It struck me when we talked about what Christ did on the cross that I don’t have to do that. The cost has already been paid. I’ve spent far too long trying to show that I’m someone—something I never needed to do. Aren’t we all already someone in God’s eyes just being His creation made in His image?”
“You’d think that it would be an easy lesson to learn, wouldn’t it?”
Aaron set the letters he held on the small table beside him and moved to stand by the porch railing. “There is another thing I’ve realized these past few days, as well.”
❧
Tara caught that same look in his eyes that made her heart stand still and the rest of her want to swoon. She rose to join him. “What is that?”
“I thought I should wait until we knew each other longer, but I’m not going to.” He reached out to grasp her hands, then pulled them toward his chest. “I’ve realized that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you, Tara. I want you to marry me.”
“Marry you? I…” For a moment, she was lost in his gaze and couldn’t speak. So much had changed
since she’d left Boston. She’d believed that coming to Iowa would strengthen her worth. Instead, she’d found that the strength she’d longed to find was already within her—through Christ.
And now Aaron wanted to marry her!
He moved away from her. “I’m sorry. I have spoken too soon and out of turn. I know we haven’t known each other long, but—”
“No. It’s not that at all.” She took a step forward into his arms. “Have you ever had a dream, and when it came true, you couldn’t believe it was actually happening?”
He held her hands and rubbed the backs of her fingers with his thumbs. “I guess I’ve felt that way with you since the day we met. I had a hard time believing you were real.”
“What do you mean?”
He lowered his face until she could feel his breath tickling her cheek. “I’ve spent my life waiting for God to send me someone who would make my life complete. Once I found you…well, it’s sufficient to say that I don’t ever want to lose you.”
His kiss left her breathless. For once, something out of her dreams measured up in real life. After a lingering moment, he pulled away and ran his thumb down her cheek.
“You’re beautiful.”
“I never answered your question.” She laughed as he matched her smile.
“Will you?”
“Yes. Of course I’ll marry you.” Her gaze swept across the picturesque landscape surrounding the farmhouse that had come to feel like home. “Does that mean I get to live in Iowa the rest of my life?”
“Not necessarily. I’ll move to Boston if it means being with you.”
She shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I might be a city girl, but if you have your heart set on a farm in Iowa, then I don’t want to be any other place.”
There was no denying the joy in his expression. “So you’re becoming a country girl?”
She grabbed his hat from the post beside her and shoved it on top of her bonnet. “What do you think?”
“Now all you need is a pair of denim overalls.” Laughing, he pulled down the brim until it covered her eyes. “I have to ask you one thing, or it’s going to nag at me forever.”
