by Tricia Goyer
With the late-afternoon sun on Isaac’s back, he headed east again. He’d intended to reach Lodge Pole by morning to preach, but with nightfall came fatigue. When he spied Giant Jim crouching beside a campfire alongside the road, Isaac gratefully laid out his bedroll. And it seemed he’d barely closed his eyes when he opened them to dawn, the smell of meat over a spit, and Giant Jim’s smiling face. Fifteen minutes later he was finishing up breakfast around the small campfire.
“You cook up a good bite of gopher, Jim. My compliments.” He gnawed one last bite of the tender meat, tossed the carcass into the fire, and then swabbed his greasy fingers on his trousers. “I thank you for the company.”
Giant Jim stoked the campfire with a stick. “Glad to meet up with you here. Heading over to Lodge Pole?”
Isaac leaned back on his hands. “Yup, my parishioners over in Lodge Pole probably think they’ll never hear a sermon again.” He pushed to a stand, but Giant Jim leaned in close, halting him.
“Before you go, Parson.” Jim’s forehead folded into a frown. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.”
Isaac sat back down. “Of course.”
“Well, I didn’t wanna ruin yer breakfast or nothin’, but…” His normally bold voice wavered. “Mabelina’s run off. I been searchin’ fer days, but I can’t find ’er. I love ’er, Parson Ike. I don’t know what to do.”
A spark flew from the fire, and Isaac snuffed it with his boot. “What happened?”
“A man in town told her if she don’t go back to…well, you know…what she was doin’ before, he’ll turn the vigilantes on ’er for killin’ Elder Milo.” Jim clasped his brow in his Goliath hand as he shook his head. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so plum jealous and pulled my gun that day, Milo’d still be here, an’ my Mabelina and me’d be together.”
Isaac’s mind swirled for answers like a hawk seeking prey. Who told Mabelina she had to go back to the brothel? Could it be old Dusty? From what Isaac knew, Dusty—though not a principled man—had never forced any of the girls into prostitution. Isaac didn’t think there was anyone of such base character in Big Sandy. Maybe in Great Falls, but not in Big Sandy. Poor Mabelina. Poor Jim. Compassion gripped his parson’s heart.
“Now you look me in the eye.” Isaac angled his head to grab the man’s gaze. “You were wrong to pull that gun. I’m not gonna lie to you. But I can tell by the way you’re actin’ that you’re sorry. Am I right?”
Giant Jim’s eyelids dropped as he nodded. “I am sorry, Parson. I been thinkin’ ’bout it all the time. Tellin’ God I’m sorry, over and over. And not jest fer that. My ma and pa were good, God-fearin’ folk. They raised me in the Bible teachings. I left ’em years ago, an’ when I did, I forsook the Bible, too. Done far too many things I regret. But when Elder Milo died, an’ it was all my fault…” His lips tightened. “It made me wonder.” He suddenly rose, stalked to his sturdy bay, and lifted a black Bible out of the saddlebag. “Been readin’, too,” he said as he sauntered back. “Funny how the learnin’ my folks taught me as a youngster came back.”
Isaac nodded.
Jim hunched down next to Isaac and held the Bible in front of himself. “So what I figured out was that this here book says that I’m some kinda dead man. Like that Lazarus.” Jim’s thick black eyebrows sloped upward as he observed Isaac expectantly. “Dead by all the bad things I done. I wanna be alive.” The Bible quaked in Jim’s trembling grasp.
Isaac steadied Jim’s hands and faced him. “When we were dead in our trespasses and sins, He made us alive in Christ Jesus. I love that passage.”
“It says that?”
“Yes.” Isaac spoke softly, overwhelmed with gratitude to be the vessel God chose. “Do you trust in the Savior?”
Tears pooled in Jim’s eyes. “I do,” he said. “More than any other.”
The man’s simple faith sent a surge of joy through Isaac. He knew the Good Shepherd also rejoiced at the return of one of His sheep. “Then you belong to Him, my friend.” A breeze bustled over the camp, bringing with it a shower of white petals shaken loose from a blossoming tree.
“I’m His.” The burly Montanan’s mustache curved up as his mouth opened in a wide smile. “I know’d it.” He stood and raised his fists. “I know’d it!”
“May I pray with you?” Isaac asked, when Jim settled back down.
“O’ course.” Jim folded his hands and bowed his head like a child.
As the slight breeze washed over them, Isaac lifted a prayer of gratitude to the Father for breathing new life into this man. Finishing, he stood. “I’m proud to call you brother.” He patted Jim’s arm.
“Thank you, Parson.”
Isaac watched as Jim quietly packed up, thinking. Maybe he should go with Jim, help him find Mabelina. Lord knows Mabelina needed the help, too. As a circuit preacher Isaac chose where he went and when. Even though he’d promised to get to Lodge Pole as soon as possible, no one was expecting him on a certain day. He’d be welcomed whenever he arrived. If some time passed between visits, so be it.
As he finished loading the horses, Isaac shot a glance to his new brother in Christ.
“Jim, you ready to go find Mabelina?” He glanced at the sky. “Looks like it will be a good day for a ride.”
“You mean you’ll help me find ’er?”
“I’d be glad to.” Isaac swung a foot over the mare’s back and gripped the reins. “And maybe I can help with the vigilantes, too. From what Warren told me, the new judge—Judge Booker—wants to have Mabelina come before him when he comes around to town. But I want both of you to know that there’s a lot of folks who will be standing up for Mabelina—making sure it’s clear the judge and jury know that the shooting was just an accident.”
“My thanks to ya, Parson Ike,” Jim said, stomping out the campfire. “I’d sure ’preciate yer help.”
Isaac grinned. The folks in Lodge Pole had waited this long. He supposed they’d get by a bit longer.
Chapter Fourteen
“Ready for the surprise?” Miriam’s hand on Julia’s arm pulled her to the door. Miriam had arrived at Julia’s provisional home—Isaac’s soddy—after breakfast as she had each of the six days Julia had stayed there. After another twenty-four hours of biding her time alone, Julia was as excited as a child to see Miriam’s plump form.
Even before she stepped outside, Julia could tell it was going to be a warm day. She pushed the door open, and a child’s voice, along with scampering footsteps, floated to Julia’s ears. She stepped into the hot sunshine, shielding her eyes and letting them adjust to the brightness.
Then she saw her. Bea scampered toward the sod house wearing a new yellow dress. Her arms flopped at her sides. Her hair bounced.
“Miss Cav’naw!” she shouted as she sprinted closer. “I coming!”
“Bea,” Julia whispered. The girl’s image blurred, and Julia blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. She covered her mouth with a trembling hand and then raced outside and crouched down. She opened her arms, and the toddler slammed against her body, nearly toppling her over. “Oh, little Bea, how pretty you look. Like a ray of bright sunshine. What in the world are you doing here, my sweet?”
Shelby strolled up behind Bea, her blond hair gleaming in the sun. She’d also traded Mrs. Gaffin’s white travel dress for a more appropriate blue frock and apron. She grinned as she planted two fists on her hips.
“We overheard Ma and Pa—that’s what they want us to call them—talking about you being here, and we begged to see you. We promised not to cry when we leave.” She ruffled her sister’s hair. “Didn’t we, Bea?”
“Yep. No cry.”
Julia scooped up Bea and stood. Then with the toddler clinging to her neck, she pulled Shelby into a tight hug.
Julia closed her eyes and soaked them in—their smell, their touch.
“You like our dwesses?” Bea asked.
Julia nodded without releasing them, reveling in the sound of their voices. She knew this small morsel of clos
eness would sustain her for days—until the loneliness came knocking again.
Still holding the girls, Julia glanced up and saw Elizabeth and two other women approaching. They sported frilly aprons and carried dishes of food and baskets. Following them, a throng of children—both boys and girls of varying ages—hiked up from the coulee.
“Good morning!” Elizabeth paced closer, her long light green skirt flowing against the gently swaying grass. Even though there was a smile on her face, her gaze hinted at worry—and maybe even a little pain at witnessing the joyful reunion.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.” Julia released her arm from around Shelby and set Bea down, pausing until Bea was steady on her feet. Then she stepped back awkwardly.
Glancing at the beautiful pioneer woman, Julia realized for the first time that Elizabeth didn’t seem to be much older than she—xtwenty-one, perhaps? And slim, gracious, youthful. Yet she was already married and now raising the family she’d been longing for.
Julia opened her mouth to ask Elizabeth how the girls were faring when an older boy scuttled up and tagged Shelby’s arm. “You’re it!”
Shelby jerked toward the blond boy of about twelve, who tore off running behind the house. “That’s Christopher. He’s Aunt Miriam’s oldest. He’s such a boy.” Then she tugged on Julia’s arm. “Play with us, Miss Cavanaugh. Please. Like you used to.”
Julia glanced at Elizabeth, still a few steps away, and the other two women. Their kind faces seemed to urge her to go ahead. Julia smiled at Shelby. “I’ll be right there. Just a minute.”
The children scampered off, and Elizabeth strode to Julia’s side then pointed to the plate she carried. A pie, its crust carefully woven, rested on it.
“I hope you like cherries.” Her kindhearted gaze met Julia’s and paused as if to say it was all right that she’d been embracing the girls.
Julia returned the smile, thankful for the woman’s unspoken thoughtfulness.
The other two ladies shuffled up. Another young bride, by her appearance, held a baby slung in an Indian basket on her back. And an older, rounder woman stood next to a pale, red-haired boy about ten years old.
“Well, what I’d like to know is where’d that Miriam dash off to?” the older woman asked in a strong British accent. Her eyes flitted about, and evidently not seeing Miriam, she moved to Julia. “I’m Sarah Mack, dearie. And this is my son William. We are pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her tall and robust form dipped in a quick curtsy.
“Nice to meet you.” Julia nodded.
“I’m Ellen Robertson. I live just down the road,” the young mother with the baby said. “We’re the welcoming committee.” She straightened her dress. “They call us the Pretty Apron Brigade.” The ladies giggled as they bustled about, preparing for whatever had brought them here.
“Can I help with anything?” Julia asked.
“No, I think we have everything. You’re our guest,” Ellen commented. “Just enjoy yourself.”
Sarah pulled a dainty handkerchief from her bodice and patted her forehead. “Oh, this heat. I’m quite spent.” She glanced at Julia. “I simply must sit down.”
“From the smell of the fire starting up in the cookstove, I think Miriam’s inside. You’re welcome to go in and rest.” Then Julia chuckled. “Listen to me. I’m talking as if it’s my own place. Still, it’s much cooler inside….”
“Oh, what a sweet little duck you are. Thank you. I don’t mind if I do.”
Elizabeth patted Julia’s shoulder. “Why don’t you play with the children? We can handle the preparations.”
Julia agreed, still unsure what the preparations were for, and then headed out to the grassy field behind the soddy. Under the shady tree, Julia noticed the lamb was still there, munching grass. She paused and rubbed its coarse wool back, reminding herself to ask the womenfolk whom she belonged to.
A few yards away, more trees circled what looked to be a small spring. Under the trees stood a picnic table made of rough wood, and she wondered if Isaac had made it.
Where did those children disappear to?
Movement caught her attention, and Julia spotted bodies under the table. At first she thought they were playing a game of hide-and-seek—with her being the seeker. But as she got closer, she spied Miriam’s oldest boy Christopher scurrying from the soddy with something in his hand. When Christopher returned to the group, the other children circled around him, completely entranced.
Julia sneaked over, stifling the urge to startle them with a “Boo!”
Instead, she inched close and watched as Christopher and Shelby—her very own Shelby—each held a mouse in one of their hands. In his other hand, Christopher clutched a tiny wire. He’d formed the end into the letter C.
Another boy used a flint to start a small fire under the table, and he heated up the end of the wire.
“Do it!” one of the other youths encouraged.
“I will,” Christopher snapped. “It’s wiggling.”
Then, in a quick movement, Christopher branded the mouse’s rump with the wire, leaving the letter C in its thin gray fur.
Julia gasped as her stomach turned. To see them holding those disgusting creatures was bad enough, but this…
“Children, no!”
Her words were drowned out by an eruption of screams as the mouse squeaked and chomped down on Christopher’s hand. “Ouch!” he cried as he dropped it.
Shelby screeched, unleashing her mouse, too. The other children scrambled to their feet, squealing as they hurried out from under the table—all except Bea, who remained where she was, crying.
When they saw Julia standing in front of them, the children came to a quick halt.
“All of you, stay right here,” she commanded in an authoritative tone. Then she squatted down to fetch Bea, who scrambled out and tumbled into her arms. Julia patted the little girl’s back, calming her, and then stood with Bea still clinging to her leg.
“Hmm.” She perused each of their faces. “Seems to me you all have too much time on your hands.”
Shelby’s eyes widened, and she frowned. “Well, not really.”
“Sure you do, but don’t worry. We can fix that.” Julia pointed to the table. “Sit down, all of you. We will have lunch soon, but first, let’s make sure that each of you knows the ABCs, and after that—mathematics. Let’s start with you, Christopher.”
He opened his mouth and then closed it again.
“Don’t be shy,” she urged. “I can tell you are a bright boy. I would have never thought of branding a mouse.”
Christopher grinned then started, “A, B, C…”
By the time the Pretty Apron Brigade wandered out of the house bringing the meal, Julia had assessed each student’s abilities and learned all of their names.
“Mama, Miss Cavanaugh taught me how to spell my name,” Miriam’s youngest boy declared with a toothless grin. “J-o-s-h-u-a.”
“Very good. I’m impressed.” Miriam opened what appeared to be a bedsheet and spread it over the table. “My, my, Miss Cavanaugh,” Miriam said as she smoothed the tablecloth. She eyed the other women with a smile. “You are a good teacher.”
“Thank you.” Julia took the stack of plates from Elizabeth’s hands and began setting them at each woman’s spot. “But I’m not a real teacher. I only worked with the girls at the orphanage, helping them to read and figure sums. And I read books to them that I liked, too.”
“That sounds like a ducky teacher to me.” Sarah poured tea for the adults in lovely English Rose teacups she’d brought.
“I told you she would be.” Elizabeth opened a basket of buckwheat cakes and placed one on each plate. Then she spread out a blanket for the children. “Wash your hands in the spring, children. Then come back for lunch.”
“A combination of tea and luncheon,” Sarah commented. “It’s teatime in some part of the world. The pastry and berries are just lovely with the fried chicken, pancakes, and boiled eggs, don’t you think?”
The warm
breeze ruffled the tablecloth slightly as everyone settled.
“Christopher, will you give thanks?” Miriam asked once the children had returned.
“O Bread of Life, from day to day be Thou our Comfort, food, and stay. Amen.”
“Thank you, Christopher.” Miriam leaned over and patted his head.
Julia gazed at the scene around her, appreciating the women’s easy companionship. She imagined their friendship had been formed by shared labor, victories, heartache. And secretly she wondered what it would be like to live in a community like this.
Julia used her fork to cut off a bite of buckwheat pancake. Yet as she lifted it to her mouth, she realized that the others weren’t eating. Instead, their eyes were focused on her.
Miriam cleared her throat. “Miss Cavanaugh, we have something we want to ask you.”
Julia set down her fork to listen, but Miriam waved a hand her direction. “No need to stop on account of us.”
“We know you’re hungry, dearie,” Sarah interjected.
Miriam rubbed the top of her large stomach and leaned forward. “Welcoming you was not the only reason we’ve come. Nor was the main purpose of this visit the treats.”
Julia tilted her head, feeling the sun warm upon it, taking in the scent of prairie grass on the breeze. “What do you mean?” Julia grinned. “These treats are lovely. I’ve never seen such wonderful pies, cakes, tea, and—” She held up a triangular pastry.
“That’s a scone, dearie.” Sarah snapped open a Chinese fan and began cooling herself.
“You mean you don’t bring these to all the newcomers?”
Ellen, who’d sat quietly observing while she nursed her baby, furrowed her brow. “Y’all didn’t do it for me.”
“Yes, we did, dear.” Elizabeth patted her hand. “Didn’t I bring you a pie?”
Ellen’s eyes lifted upward as if trying to remember. “I s’pose so.” She gazed at Elizabeth’s masterful cherry pie. “But not like that.”
