by Tricia Goyer
Julia nodded. “Yes—she loved those tunnels.” She took a breath. “Thank you.”
“Bea!” Isaac called, scanning the water and shore.
“Bea!” Julia echoed.
Isaac led her along the bank. As they walked in silence, he scanned the gently lapping water for any disturbance. He knew Julia did the same. Many dangers waited for a tiny child on the prairie alone at night, but if he could rule out the lake, they might have time to free the girl from any other predicament.
They followed the curve to the other side. Gazing back across the lake toward the ranch, Isaac spotted the campfires and tents set up by his birthday guests.
“Do you see that?” He pointed to forms carrying lanterns, moving across the prairie. “Someone’s bound to find her.”
“It’s amazing. All these people, searching, praying.”
“They’re good folks. They’d do anything for their own.”
Isaac surveyed the ground ahead, and as his eyes focused on a patch of trees near the buffalo tunnels, he perceived a faint noise.
Julia jerked toward him. “Did you hear that? It sounds like a dog barking.”
“I did.”
They trudged toward the sound. The bark grew louder as they got closer, and Isaac’s mind pricked in recognition. “That’s Calamity. We’ll get there faster if we ride.”
He took Julia’s hand and helped her step into the stirrup and onto Virginia—an awkward undertaking, since she wasn’t wearing a split skirt. Once she was settled, he climbed onto the saddle behind her.
Ahead, toward the far end of the lake, he spied a cluster of sagebrush and low-lying box elder trees. He could barely make out the white splotches of Calamity’s coat. Virginia galloped toward the trees. Julia’s hair brushed his face; it smelled of soap and smoke from the fire.
“Do you think that’s them?” Julia’s voice quivered.
“Yeah, Bea played with the dog all day. Calamity probably followed her when she wandered off.” Good girl, Calamity.
Isaac spotted the girl, her arm resting on Calamity’s back, her blond curls almost white in the moonlight. Relief loosened the squeezing of his chest and the knots in his stomach. “Thank You, Lord.”
But when they came within twenty feet of the girl and the dog, Virginia spooked. Isaac pulled back on the reins. Something was wrong.
Calamity was hunched down in a protective position, facing the prairie beyond. The dog’s barking grew more ferocious, interspersed with growls.
“Bea!” Julia screamed, but a wind stirred, whipping her words behind them. “She’s there, Isaac. Do you see her? Why’d you stop?” Julia shifted her weight to dismount.
Isaac braced his arms around her, not wanting her to rashly jump down. “Shh…quiet, Julia.” He knew Calamity saw something. Hurrying upon them would spook whatever was out there.
“But I need to get her.” Julia struggled in his arms.
He gripped her shoulder. “I need you to be still, for Bea’s sake.”
At the foot of the dark clump of trees, a large white sliver, like a fist-sized crescent moon, appeared in a sea of black. At first, Isaac couldn’t make out what it was, but then it disappeared and returned—blinked. Now it slowly shifted, looking at him. He was staring into the eye of a buffalo.
Isaac’s vision focused, and he perceived the buffalo’s hulking form lying on its side. Its massive face was almost as large as Bea herself. As he watched, it twitched as if in pain. His guess was that one of the new settlers had shot it—trying to bring it down—but had wounded it instead. He knew an injured buffalo was deadly; he’d heard more than one story of full-grown men losing their lives. And Bea was so little…
Isaac felt Julia’s body tense.
“Do you see that? There under the trees. What—what is that thing?” Julia’s voice shuttered.
Isaac placed his hands on her shoulders protectively. “It’s a wounded buffalo.”
Julia struggled again, trying to get down. “Bea!”
Bea, who was facing the buffalo, heard her name, looked back then stood.
That a girl. Slowly.
But instead of heading their direction, Bea toddled toward the large beast. “Wook, horsey!”
The closer Bea got, the more agitated the animal became, and it thrashed back and forth as if struggling to stand.
Julia gasped. “I’ve got to get her.”
Isaac held her arms against her struggle. He would protect her—he had to protect her.
Virginia pawed the ground. Calamity barked again.
“If you spook it, it’ll charge. Or thrash even harder.” His mind raced, searching for what to do. Lord, help me think. Guide us.
Bea took another step toward the animal. “Hi, horsey.”
If I run to the right, by the trees, hopefully it won’t see me coming. He shifted his weight, preparing to put his foot in the stirrup and swing off, routing the path toward rescuing the girl in this mind.
Bea stretched out her hand, and the buffalo let out a deep, throaty groan that echoed over the open prairie. Bea screamed at the sound and scampered to Calamity.
“No!” Julia squirmed and pulled from Isaac’s grasp. In an instant, she was off the saddle, on the ground, and darting toward Bea.
“Julia, no!” Isaac jumped down.
The little girl whirled around and saw Julia approach. The buffalo also spotted her. It struggled even harder, attempting to stand, scraping the ground with its hooves. Calamity barked and growled, poised to attack.
“Julia, stop!” Isaac hissed, not wanting to yell and panic the buffalo even further.
He stretched for his rifle and aimed to shoot, but Julia blocked his shot.
Julia reached Bea and scooped the little girl up in her arms. She turned and dashed back toward Isaac, but then she cried out as her foot caught on a rock and the two tumbled to the ground.
Isaac jumped back on Virginia, certain of his next course of action.
The buffalo, fueled by fear, finally righted itself and began its charge just as Julia was reclaiming her footing.
Isaac galloped toward them. “Julia!” He stretched out his hands, guiding the horse with just his thighs. She handed up Bea. He plunked her in front of him on the saddle, facing him.
The buffalo stumbled, favoring its right front leg, then righted itself.
“Now you.” He gripped her wrist and then pulled his foot out of the stirrup.
She placed her own foot in the stirrup and Isaac pulled. Julia flew up, swinging her leg over. She landed behind him with a gasp, the wind jarred out of her. The buffalo neared.
Isaac kicked Virginia with both heels and took off at a gallop, leaving the injured beast behind.
He felt Julia’s head against his back and Bea curled in front of him. The toddler was quiet now, but her body shook as quick sobs escaped.
Julia’s arms wrapped around him, clasping in front, as they jolted and bumped on the loping mare.
Isaac heard a dog bark and released a breath, knowing Calamity followed right behind.
Arriving at a safe distance, Isaac again pulled out his rifle and pointed it at the animal that was now laboring along the shore of Lonesome Lake.
“What are you doing?” Julia asked, her voice still out of breath.
“It’s not safe to have a wounded animal about.” He raised his sights on the buffalo. “Cover Bea’s ears.”
Julia’s hands moved to the little girl’s head as she pressed one of her ears hard against his back. Isaac squeezed the trigger. A loud shot reverberated across the plains, and the buffalo toppled to the ground.
Isaac let out a breath as he replaced his rifle in its scabbard.
From behind him in the saddle, he heard soft sobs and felt Julia’s body quaking. His chest tightened with a thick dose of empathy. The rush of danger gone, he could imagine what circled through Julia’s mind. If they hadn’t heard Calamity’s barks. If they hadn’t reached her in time…
He kissed the top of Bea’s head
. “We found you.”
“Find me.”
Isaac stuck his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistled a message to the others. After a few seconds, a whistle was returned, letting Isaac know they understood.
“What do you think, Bea?” he said. “You’ve had quite an adventure. What say we get you to bed?”
“Bed. No! I not tired.”
Isaac shifted a little more in his seat and patted Julia on the knee—his awkward attempt at comforting her.
Gratitude filled his heart as they approached the house, where Elizabeth stood with her arms outstretched. Isaac handed Bea to her.
“You sweet girl. I’m so glad you’re back safe. Never go away without Mama or Papa again.” Laughter bubbled through Elizabeth’s tears, and she placed a dozen kisses on the small girl’s forehead. “We need to get you inside and warm you up. You scared Mama.”
“Mama scare?” Bea clung to her.
The rest of the group dispersed to their camps as Julia and Isaac dismounted.
As the voices faded, Julia meandered back to the smoldering fire. Isaac followed. Standing before the dimming firelight, Isaac took her hand. When she gazed up at him, Isaac saw tears dampening her face, the dancing flames creating a gleam.
“I’m sorry,” she said as more tears flowed. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” She leaned toward him, her forehead almost touching his chest.
“Julia.” Isaac’s hesitation flew away, and in its place came an overwhelming desire to comfort this woman whose bravery had saved his niece. Whose strong, yet content, character had intrigued him since the first time he’d met her. Without worrying or questioning, he wrapped his arms around her. Warmth rushed through him as she collapsed into his embrace, her arms slipping to his back. She released her sobs, and he savored that he was here to help her carry her pain. Nothing else mattered in that moment.
His hands caressed her back as she leaned into the refuge he longed to provide. He wondered why he’d fought his feelings for so long. All those talks on the porch, the walks to the coulee, even the playful bantering—and yet he’d rationalized that he was simply ministering to her as a parson. He chuckled to himself as he stroked her hair. The rationalizations didn’t make much sense, even to him. Yes, he cared about her spiritual condition, but as the weeks passed, the admiration he felt for her had taken root deep in his heart—and he no longer desired to deny it. To himself or her.
Finally, her sobs turned to soft cries, and her breathing calmed. Her hands slipped to his waist as she pulled back and gazed up at him. Her eyes exuded gratitude, trust, and, perhaps, longing. Longing for me.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Isaac said, his hand gently stroking a strand of hair from her face.
“I wouldn’t be if not for you.” Her lips curved up in a quivering smile. “And neither would Bea.”
“You’re the brave one.” He gazed at her, soaking in the beautiful face of the woman who stood before him. “You acted while I was still trying to figure out what to do.” His finger followed the curve of her jaw. Could he continue to deny his feelings? Why? Why should I?
“Julia.” His fingers moved to her lips, outlining them, and then shifted to weave themselves between the runaway strands of her hair. He lowered his head, longing to feel her lips against his. His gaze caught her eyes, and she tipped her head up…
The sound of footsteps moved toward them, and they abruptly stepped apart. Isaac breathed in to calm his racing heart. He hadn’t been this close to a woman for a long time.
Am I a fool?
Abe approached. When he saw the two of them together, he awkwardly pivoted the other way. “Oh, sorry.”
Isaac threw an embarrassed grin to Abe. “It’s all right. What do you need?”
Abe inched closer, a grin bending his lips. “Really it’s nothing. We just heard a shot, and I wondered what it was.”
Julia’s face shed its vulnerability as her chin lifted and her lips assumed a small smile. She touched Isaac’s arm. “I’ll let you tell your story. I’d better check to see if they need any help inside.” Before she turned to go, she paused, still gripping his arm. Her tender gaze, brimming with emotion, lingered on him—just for a fleeting instant. And in that moment, a sapling of hope blossomed in Isaac’s heart.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Deep purple, the darkness before the dawn, stretched over the prairie, and it was hard for Julia to believe the drama of last night had really happened. It seemed like a bad dream.
Except for Isaac’s touch. The feel of his embrace. The memory of it had made it hard for her to sleep. So while the children, partygoers, and family members settled in to rest, she’d gone to the pump for fresh water—something to get her mind off the look in Isaac’s eyes.
Julia stepped across the yard toward the house with a lantern and a pitcher of water. She thought of more chores she could do while the others slept—milking the goats, weeding the garden. These plans didn’t hold her attention for long, and her swirling thoughts circled back to Isaac.
Even if she tried, she couldn’t banish the parson from her mind. Every moment he was near brought them closer—from the fiasco with Horace when she’d first arrived, to the evening spent in Isaac’s soddy, their first walk to the buffalo tunnels, the hours of talks on the porch, the birthday party, and finally, the search for Bea. It was as if someone had designed their steps, leading them inch by inch, until that final moment when the parson had enfolded her in his arms. Isaac would probably call it God’s providence.
Julia paused on the porch, relishing the memory of his embrace. His scent, hinting of smoke from the fire. His gentle caress of her hair and face. She closed her eyes. The reality of such contentment was almost beyond belief.
Yet, as she opened the door, one worry nibbled at her joy. That letter in Isaac’s Bible. Who was Bethany, and what had happened? Julia’s curiosity tapped at her, yet it wasn’t the mystery that bothered her, rather the guilt she felt for knowing something private about him. What would he think, or say, if he knew she’d read it? She didn’t want to hide anything from him. I should mention it the next chance I get. Maybe at breakfast—or lunch—whenever he comes around again.
She set the bucket of water on the back porch and then quietly entered, closing the door behind her. It was dim inside, and she felt a yawn coming on. She hung the lantern on the peg and turned the wick until it barely glimmered. I should try to rest.
Crossing through the parlor toward her room, she heard a noise and jumped, startled. Someone was there, watching her. She expected it to be one of the children but instead turned to see Isaac sitting on the sofa, reading by candlelight. He smiled a casual, comfortable smile, and Julia quietly stepped toward him.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “I thought you were going back to your soddy.”
He fingered the hat that sat on his knee. “Well, I plan on it, but I’m so beat. I just can’t bring myself to get up and head down there.”
“I’m sure Miriam wouldn’t mind if you slept right there.” She sat down beside him. “At least put your feet up for a while.”
Isaac palmed his hair. “That’s what I was thinking. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Do you want me to get you a blanket?” Julia didn’t wait for an answer. The room was still dim despite the lantern, so she gingerly felt her way to the storage basket beneath the front window and retrieved one.
Returning, she handed it to him and knew if there was ever a moment designed to talk to him, now was that moment.
She clasped her hands together and then sank into the chair next to the sofa. His eyes gazed into hers, and when he smiled, she detected a bit of nervousness, shyness even. A side of the self-assured parson she’d not seen before.
“Isaac?” she finally ventured.
He must’ve detected the question in her tone, because a look of concern replaced the smile. “What is it?” His voice was so soft, gentle. He leaned forward.
A tautne
ss clamped Julia’s throat, but she pushed ahead. “I read something…in your Bible.”
The lines in Isaac’s forehead relaxed. “Oh, you had me worried. Do you have a question about a passage? I love talking with you about the Scriptures.”
“No, no, not that.” Julia gripped the arms of the chair. “I mean in your notes in the back. That first day I stayed in your soddy, I was reading the notes written by your grandfather—at least I think that’s who it was. He seemed like such a godly man, and his words encouraged me.” Her words spilled out, and she glanced up to see Isaac leaning back again. She couldn’t read his gaze.
“What did you find?” He asked the question as if he already knew.
A heaviness fell on Julia’s chest. “I didn’t think I would find anything…well, personal. And Miriam said I could read your Bible.” She paused, waiting for his response.
“Please.” His voice sounded tired, weak. His eyes were intent on hers. “Tell me what you found.”
“I found a letter you wrote to God. It said something about a vow to never get married, and it mentioned someone named Bethany….”
Isaac rose from the sofa and pushed his hand toward her, stopping her words.
“I didn’t mean to read it.” Julia started to rise and then sat down again. “I don’t want to know about it—I just thought I should tell you that I read it.”
Gathering her courage, she stood and approached him. She wanted him to hold her as he had last night. Instead, she stood there, feeling helpless. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving her gaze to his eyes.
Isaac’s face did not hold the tenderness she longed to see, yet no bitterness resided there either—just a pained stare. “It’s not your fault.” He stepped back. “You don’t have to apologize.” He moved to the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down. Then he motioned to the chair next to him.
She sat down and waited, relieved to be getting an explanation even as her foot tapped nervously. Bethany had obviously been a significant part of his past to inspire such a vow. Her heart sank even thinking the words. If he still held to his promise, it would mean the end of her newly sprouting dreams—of a happy life with the man she was falling in love with.
