by Tricia Goyer
Isaac reached into his pack beside the sofa and retrieved his Bible. He fumbled as he tried to fit the cover over its limp sleeves, and Julia slid next to him to help.
“You put it on like this.” She laid the cover on the bench then scooped Isaac’s Bible from his lap, her finger lightly brushing his thigh. Ignoring the flood of warmth shooting to her face, she slipped the sleeves in and folded the Bible closed.
She smiled and handed it to him, relieved to have the task complete. “I’m so glad it fits.”
Isaac turned the covered Bible over, opened it, and closed it. Then he tilted his chin toward Julia and smiled. “This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me.”
She swept her hand through the air, as if brushing his comment aside. “I just thought with all your traveling, you might need it. The children helped me. And—and after everything you’ve taught me about the Scriptures, I figured it was the least I could do.”
“Well, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble.” He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Especially for someone as rude as I am.”
Julia laughed at his reference to their first meeting.
Bea suddenly bolted upright and then raced to the window. “Horsies!” her voice squeaked. “Someone home!”
Miriam lumbered to her feet. “Oh, the guests are here.” She and Elizabeth, along with the girls, scrambled to the kitchen to fetch tablecloths and lanterns.
“Doggie!” Bea wrapped her fist in Calamity’s fur and they hurried outside to the back yard together.
“At least the dog doesn’t seem to mind,” Julia mumbled as she grabbed a bowl of apple dumplings she’d made and wandered out back. Bea’d grown more attached to the sheepdog every time Isaac brought her around.
Within thirty minutes, with the sun sagging low on the horizon, a vigorous fire burned. The back table boasted more delights than the group could eat, and at least three dozen folks milled about talking and laughing.
The ever-present wind grew cold, and Julia warmed her hands and arms over the fire. Sage branches released their musky scent as they burned. Julia took in a breath as Bea toddled over and held up a cookie she’d been nibbling on, showing Julia.
“Mmm, that looks good.”
Then Julia laughed as Bea took another bite, spotted Calamity, and toddled over to the dog, offering the rest of the cookie. Calamity accepted the treat from Bea’s hand with a wag of her tail. “Hun-gy dog-gie.”
Glancing at the faces around her, gilded by the sunset and fire’s glow, Julia sensed a feeling she’d not acknowledged since she arrived. One she was still reluctant to admit. This place felt like home.
Home.
Isaac’s family had so easily accepted her. She’d fallen into the pattern of life here: chores, teaching, more chores—with an occasional hoedown or dip in the lake to break up the repetitiveness. She’d worked harder than she ever had at the orphanage, but her fellowship with Miriam, Elizabeth, and the other Lonesome Prairie ladies, along with her time spent with children, added a deep joy that far outweighed the difficulty of the work.
The long talks with Isaac when he breezed into town every couple of weeks also anchored her heart here. How Miriam and Elizabeth managed to maneuver them to the porch and then create excuses to leave them alone amused both Julia and Isaac. It had become a guessing game, each boasting they knew what the excuse would be—Miriam saying she needed to shuck the corn at that moment, Elizabeth wanting to give Bea a bath….
But Julia was secretly grateful to Isaac’s sisters. Not only because time alone with him gave her the opportunity to uncover Isaac’s admirable character and easy laugh, but also because their conversations often turned to the Bible. He seemed more than willing to discuss her questions for hours. And as they talked, the foundational truths she’d learned as a child became woven together, forming a beautiful pattern she never knew was in the Bible. And she hungered for more.
She also savored each meal she shared with these folks—for the company as well as for the food, which seemed richer, heartier than anything she’d eaten in the city. Probably because we work so hard for it. She fingered a pleat in her cotton skirt. With each day that passed, her city-girl shell slipped away, and a stronger, more secure woman emerged. A woman who might discover she actually felt at home on the prairie. In fact, truth be told, there were some days Julia didn’t mind so much that Mrs. Gaffin hadn’t responded with the funds needed to reimburse Horace and to purchase a return ticket to New York.
Branches snapped in the fire, causing a series of pops, and she tried to push out the thoughts that stirred in her mind. She knew if she let herself continue down this trail, dreaming of a life for herself here, she’d never see Mrs. Gaffin again. And she felt guilty for being willing to trade in her old life for a new one so quickly. Plus, was staying here realistic?
She’d known Isaac’s family a month. True, they welcomed and seemed to accept her, but how could she exchange the long years she’d spent with her loving headmistress for a life with people she barely knew? Her heartbeat quickened as she realized the longer she stayed here, the more her heart would become attached to these folks who’d already grown so dear. And the more difficult it would be to leave.
But she’d made up her mind. She’d return to New York as soon as she received the money for a ticket. She couldn’t just abandon Mrs. Gaffin and her life there. After all, Mrs. Gaffin had done so much for her….
Julia meandered back into the kitchen to fetch another dish, her mind rolling along the same paths it had for the last few days. Returning merely because of Mrs. Gaffin was a poor excuse, she knew. Certainly the headmistress could take care of herself, especially with her wealthy new husband.
The whole truth was, Julia didn’t know how she could live here and not completely fall in love with Isaac. There, I finally admitted it. Acknowledging the truth to herself washed a sense of relief over her. Now that she accepted it, she could stifle her feelings—just until she could go home. She set down the plate of chicken on the table.
Isaac walked up just then, driving her thoughts back to the present. His handsome, strong build sent a quiver up her arms. He tipped his hat as he sidled up next to her. “I just wanted to tell you—”
Her heart raced, expecting a word of encouragement or another thank-you for the gift.
Instead, his forehead furrowed, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t let things like that sit for long.”
She twisted her head toward him, confused and sensing his disapproval.
“That grave joke you put them up to? I’ll get you back.” He threw her a sober glance then winked and walked off.
Her jaw dropped as she watched him. “Wait a minute…” But before she could think of a retort, Miriam stepped in and tugged him away. She called for everyone to gather, and soon benches formed a wide circle around the fire with Isaac situated closest to the house. Before Julia could navigate herself toward a seat, Elizabeth shuffled her to the spot next to Isaac.
One after another, the folks gathered paid tribute to Parson Ike. Julia hadn’t realized, but folks from all over Isaac’s circuit had come out to celebrate their parson’s birthday.
The children—now comfortable with performing for adults, thanks to Miss Cavanaugh and Shakespeare—initiated the festivities with a series of short skits. In one, they acted out a time when Isaac apparently showed up at the meeting room in Cascade in the cold of winter wearing only his long johns. Apparently a bandit along the way had stolen his coat, and Isaac offered him his clothes, too, if he’d only come to the meeting.
Julia laughed and watched as the parson dipped his head.
Then a woman stood and shared a story about how she hadn’t seen her father since she was a little girl—until Parson Ike rode down to the mines in Butte and found him, urging him to make it home for his daughter’s birthday. And when the man claimed he’d never be able to get there in time on foot, Isaac lent him Virginia and caught a ride back on the stage.
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sp; The night stole on as Isaac’s parishioners told their stories. Widows shared about how he helped repair their homes. Ranchers injured by one accident or another explained how Isaac had tended their livestock until they could heal. A young man stood up and told how he believed God used Isaac’s faith to “make an honest man” out of him.
The tales now finished, a blanket of quiet settled on the group as folks leaned back and gazed at the crackling fire. Julia took in the night sky, the Milky Way strewn across it, and the bright moon adding a majestic mist over the fields and lake. Most of the children snuggled into a parent’s lap, and husbands and wives rested against each other.
Amid the quiet, Sarah Mack stood up, her puffed white sleeves and frilly lace flowing over her tall frame. With a simple smile at Isaac, she opened her mouth and sang a glorious rendition of Isaac’s favorite hymn, “Rock of Ages.”
From the first note, Julia was swept away by the woman’s skill. Not a noise stirred in the crowd. It seemed even the wind stilled to listen to Sarah’s voice blending the words and melody in praise to heaven.
Enveloped by the fire’s warmth, a desire to share the splendor of the moment with another person kindled in Julia’s heart. She glanced at Isaac sitting beside her, flashes of firelight dancing on his face. For a moment, his eyes caught hers. The beating of her heart seemed to stop, and everything melted into a haze. She never wanted to cease feeling his eyes’ embrace. What would it be like to live each day knowing he sought her, cared for her, needed her?
The edges of his mouth inched up, and Julia thought he was going to say something, but Sarah finished singing and the bond between them released. As Julia clapped for the singer, she realized she’d never admired another man as much as she did Isaac. Hearing the stories about him—some funny, but so many revealing his parson’s heart, his bravery, and his kindness—Julia felt she knew him even more.
A blast of wind slapped Julia’s cheek, and she shivered. Of course, these thoughts were frivolous and perhaps dangerous for her emotions. She’d be leaving soon to travel hundreds of miles away from Montana and Isaac Shepherd, but still, her heart wouldn’t obey.
She smiled at him as he stood. She knew whoever would someday have the privilege of becoming his wife, if anyone, would be a very blessed woman.
Isaac gazed into the faces around the campfire, wondering what he’d done to deserve such love and caring. When he’d set off for Montana, barely nineteen years old, he’d left everyone he knew behind. At the time he had no idea his sisters would move out and start families of their own. He’d hoped to build a community of believers, but now they were more than community—they were family.
He moseyed up to Miriam after all the guests had ambled out to make their camps on the property for the night. “This was a wonderful evening. I’m grateful to you.”
Miriam received the embrace her brother offered. “I suppose we must love you,” she said with a teasing gleam in her eye.
“I figured that out.” He smiled as he stepped out of the embrace. “All those embarrassing plays and stories made me feel real loved.” He threw her a sarcastic wink.
She sauntered toward the kitchen, her mid-section leading the way. “All right, let’s get this place cleaned up so we can go to bed.”
As Isaac returned the chairs to their places around the table, Shelby ran in.
“Anyone seen Bea?”
“No. I haven’t.” Isaac scooted in a chair then leaned on its back. “I haven’t seen her since she was sitting on your lap at the fire.” He shot a glance toward Miriam, who was returning from the kitchen. “We can’t find Bea.”
Miriam reached for the table and steadied herself. “Have you asked Elizabeth?”
Shelby’s forehead scrunched as she bent low to search under the sofa. “She and Miss Cavanaugh are checking outside. She’s got to be here.” Her voice rose. “She was sitting on my lap when that British lady sang, but then she ran off. I thought she was going to Ma, but Ma thought she was still with me….”
Isaac’s heartbeat quickened, but he clothed himself with calmness. It wouldn’t do for anyone to panic. “You stay here,” he instructed Shelby, “in case she comes back. We’ll go looking for her.”
Then those inside the house—Isaac, Miriam, Sarah Mack, her son William, and a few other guests—scattered, searching every section of the ranch inside and out. When Isaac strode back inside about ten minutes later, he saw that everyone had returned. He glanced around the room and discovered the same look on everyone’s faces: worry, fear. They hadn’t found her.
Isaac glanced at Shelby, whose eyes bore into him, desperately seeking his help. He bent to meet her gaze. “Don’t worry, we’ll find your sister. There are a lot of people around. Someone must’ve seen her.”
The twelve-year-old swallowed and nodded. “Ma and Miss Cavanaugh haven’t come back. They must still be looking. Where could she be? Please find her, Uncle Isaac.”
He held her face in his hands. “We’ll do our best. Will you do me a favor?”
She nodded.
“Pray.”
“I already have been, but I won’t stop.”
He squeezed her shoulder and then faced Miriam. “Why don’t you stay here and keep looking around the house. The men are outside.”
Isaac rushed out the front door, and in the yard he came upon Abe and Jefferson already mounted on their horses.
“Whoa.” Abe steadied his mount. The horse’s front legs pranced with excitement, sensing the tension in the air.
“I’m going to check by the coulee,” Jefferson called from his palomino. “And Abe’ll ask around at the campsites.”
Isaac threw his saddle blanket on Virginia. “I’ll check down by the lake.”
“Fine.” Abe spun his horse around. “Let out a whistle if you find her.”
With that, the two men galloped off into the silvery prairie.
Isaac finished saddling his horse then mounted. O God, please let us find her, he prayed as he spurred Virginia to a gallop. The thought of that sweet little girl out on the prairie by herself sent a frigid jolt up Isaac’s spine. Even though she was little, Isaac knew toddlers could travel fast as jackrabbits when they got something set in their minds. With the miles of tall grass, she could be hidden anywhere, and it’d be nearly impossible to spot her. And if she got stuck in the coulee or the muddy lake…it could already be too late.
With a quick kick, Isaac urged Virginia onward. Within minutes he spotted the lake. The low-hanging moon’s light was doubled by the reflection on the motionless surface. His eyes surveyed the area as he galloped, but he saw no sign of the girl.
Then over the sound of his horse’s hoofbeats, he heard something.
“Bea!” The shrill voice carried on the wind.
He slowed Virginia to a trot and scrutinized the prairie before him, his eyes adjusting to the gray light.
“Bea!” the voice called out again.
Ahead of him, silhouetted in black against the moonlit horizon, a figure paced, searching. A woman.
“Bea! Where are you?” the woman called again.
Isaac’s gut clenched as he drove Virginia toward the figure. The woman turned when she heard him approach and Isaac saw that it was Julia.
“Isaac, thank God,” she called, her voice shrill with worry. Her eyes flared with determination. “Please. We’ve got to find her.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Julia’s face, etched with fear and sadness, reminded Isaac of his first memory of her as she self-sacrificially handed Bea to Elizabeth. The devotion she felt for the girls had pained his heart. What fear must be gripping her now?
Isaac situated himself in his saddle and then drew back on the reins. Virginia stopped, and he dismounted. Dropping the reins, he hurried to Julia’s side. “It’s all right. We’ll find her.”
She turned to him, and her hands clutched his arm, desperate. He felt needed, and he was glad he could be here for her as they searched for Bea.
Julia let
go of his arm and pointed to the small, oval lake. “We went swimming last week, and she never stopped talking about it. What if she’s in the water?” Her voice rose in panic. Her hands formed tight fists.
“Julia—”
“Bea tried to swim but then slipped under and couldn’t get back up,” Julia interrupted. “If Shelby hadn’t been right next to her…”
“Julia, listen—”
“What will Elizabeth and Abe do if…” She shook her head, unwilling to speak the words. “They love her so much. She’s as much a part of the family now as any of Miriam’s children.”
Isaac took her chin with his hand, softly turning her face to his. “Julia, listen to me.” He caught her eyes with his gaze. “We’ll find her.”
She nodded but didn’t speak. Even in the dim light he could see her fear.
As he stared into her face, the clouds drifted past the moon, revealing a large flawless orb. The prairie brightened under the moonlight. Thank You, Lord. Thank You for the light.
“Let’s search together.” He dropped his hand and stepped toward the lake. “With both of us looking, we have a better chance.”
“But don’t you think we should split up? Cover more ground?”
Isaac stroked her shoulder. Her muscles relaxed under his touch. “Listen. This lake’s not very big. If she were in the water, we’d hear splashing. Besides, there are all kinds of dips and snags. I don’t want you falling in.”
Isaac led his horse with one hand. He placed his other hand on the small of Julia’s back and hurriedly guided her over the prairie toward the lake. He knew it would be quicker if he went alone. He also knew she would never allow it.
They approached the shore, and his eyes swept over the water. It was perfectly still, except for the slightest ripple caused by the breeze warping and shifting the moon’s reflection.
Julia’s head tilted as she listened. “I don’t hear anything, but what if she’s already—”
“We’re not thinking that. She’s fine. Maybe she’s not even here.” Suddenly he was struck by an idea. “Let’s search here then make our way to the other side. The buffalo tunnels are there.”
