Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana

by Tricia Goyer

  Years of stubborn adherence to a promise, and the fear it represented, surrounded Isaac like the walls of a fortress. Losing his mother and Bethany had created so great a dread of being hurt that he’d refused to open his heart to love again. And hiding within the walls of a foolish vow kept him safe from that pain—or at least it had for a time. But the truth was, Jim was right. The promise had always been built not on faithfulness, but on faithlessness. He didn’t trust that God could bring someone to work alongside him. More than that, he didn’t trust that God could keep her safe.

  Yet now, here—because of the words of a giant man with a giant-sized faith—the door to the fortress opened before him. Could he again refuse to step through? Did he want to?

  True words from those who loved him echoed through his thoughts. It is not good that the man should be alone. Milo had said it. But so had others in different ways. Miriam’s hints, Aponi’s attempts to match him with her daughters, even Elizabeth’s wordless looks.

  Trust Him. Jim’s simple words.

  The wind picked up, bringing with it more raindrops. The rain began to pour, washing over Isaac as his stubborn fortress melted in a rush of repentance.

  He lifted his face to the sky. “Forgive me for treating my fear as a vow of service to You.” His voice cracked. “I pretended I was living the life You called me to—one of true devotion—but it was only a façade for the truth, the pain, the worries of my own heart.” A teary cough emerged.

  As the rain continued its cleansing flood, a light filled Isaac’s heart. Joy seeped in, unexpected but appreciated, and Isaac embraced his freedom for the first time. Freedom to love. To be a husband. A father.

  Then like a melody rising at just the right moment, the words from Ezekiel chapter 34 draped him. In his tortured darkness, when he’d clung to the Word for dear life, he’d replayed the words yet not received their truth: “‘And I will make them and the places round about my hill a blessing; and I will cause the shower to come down in his season; there shall be showers of blessing.’”

  Isaac lifted his face to the sky as the drops slid down his face. “Thank You, Lord,” he whispered. “Thank You for forgiveness, grace, freedom.”

  The rain let up, and as Isaac sat basking in the reality of his new understanding of the Shepherd’s love for him, a thought almost too good to consider inched its way in. Did this mean—? He dared not think it. So he said the name out loud instead.

  “Julia.”

  All the suppressed affection that was born the day he met her and grew each time he talked to her inundated him. He loved her, and the joy of freeing that love was sweeter than he’d ever imagined.

  But would she return his love? Julia—so strong, beautiful, kind, intelligent—he didn’t deserve her, not after what he’d done. Not only had he acted frivolously with her affection, but his selfishness was so great he’d forced her to turn her back on the home she was building here. Why hadn’t he seen that his disregard for her needs and wants sentenced her to an uncertain future?

  But if she could forgive him—if she could accept his imperfect, yet wholehearted, devotion—he’d humbly seek to serve her all the days of his life. With God’s grace he’d strive to be a godly husband… and he’d love her.

  Always love her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “You’ll have to tell me what was in that letter sometime.” Miriam hauled back on the reins, bringing the wagon to a stop inside the Pioneer Livery Stable in Big Sandy, and Julia gripped the buckboard to steady herself. “You’ve been staring off into the wild blue ever since we left home. Now, you can’t be leavin’ a pregnant lady waitin’ so long. You know the smallest thing’ll send me cryin’ and carryin’ on.” Miriam cupped her hands around the ever-enlarging orb that occupied her middle and then perked her chin up. “A foot!” She tugged Julia’s hand to the spot on her belly.

  A bulge of what had to be baby shifted under Julia’s hand then rolled away. “That’s incredible.” Julia moved her palm, seeking another touch. “To have a little life inside you, it must feel…I don’t know. How does it feel?”

  Miriam looked up. “Well, having a baby in there means your back aches, you’re always hungry but never have what you want, you can’t sleep but you’re always tired, you never feel comfortable, and you want to cry all the time—or snap at the people you love most.”

  Julia frowned. “I thought you were going to tell me how wonderful it was. You know, the gift of life growing inside you.”

  Julia swung her legs off the buckboard as Miriam labored down the other side. “I didn’t finish. I was going to say that all of the holy suffering is worth it when you feel that little darlin’ move inside. Even more glorious when you hold him or her.” She rubbed her stomach again, searching for an appendage. “You’re right. It’s unlike any other experience.”

  Miriam handed the reins to the paid hand at the livery, and Julia grabbed a crate of goods from the back—potatoes, corn, eggs, and two handkerchiefs, as well as the Home Sweet Home sampler she’d embroidered—to trade at the mercantile. She’d come up with the idea after she received the letter from Mrs. Gaffin that offered no practical help. She’d try to sell her embroidery to get the money she needed for the train. She prayed it would work; otherwise, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  The two ladies sauntered down Main Street, wide and overgrown with weeds. Up ahead Julia spotted the Broadwater and McCullah Store—the only general store in town.

  Despite Julia’s recent longing to somehow fly far away from Lonesome Prairie, she couldn’t deny the kindness the family had shown. She suspected Miriam proposed this jaunt more for Julia’s sake than for the needed supplies. Miriam deserved to know about the contents of the letter—and her plans.

  The town was busier than it had been the last time Julia had walked these streets. She eyed the saloons and the interesting characters—cowboys, miners, Indians—moving in and out of the swinging doors. In the distance a group of soldiers was riding into town. Julia had heard about the frontier cavalry who protected the Canadian border, watched the Indians on their reservations, kept peace, and guarded the safety of the settlers. They rode by, and Julia felt their eyes on her. Some were young, possibly of good character, but it didn’t matter; only one man would spark her interest. And she had no idea where he was. Who knew if she’d ever see him again?

  “So you’re wondering what Mrs. Gaffin said?” Julia shook the relentless thoughts away and determined to be cheerful—for Miriam’s sake—as they ambled past The Spokane House.

  “By the horn spoons!” Miriam threw up her hands, and Julia puzzled at what on earth that phrase meant. “You’re finally going to tell me?”

  A chuckle escaped Julia’s lips, and with it came a surge of gratitude. She’d been too serious of late. She needed a laugh, and it seemed Miriam sensed it.

  Arriving at the mercantile, Julia swept open the door for Miriam and held her elbow. “Let me help you, ma’am,” she teased. “You sure you can walk with that belly?”

  Miriam jerked her elbow away and stomped inside with a hearty laugh. “I got a spell to go yet till the baby comes. You wait until it gets closer, and then you can coddle me all you want.”

  Julia followed, letting the door swing closed behind her. She looked around and noticed the store was empty except for the shopkeeper, who was on a ladder straightening high shelves.

  Wandering through the musty but clean store, Julia sized up the goods stacked on shelves lining the walls. As she judged the bags of sugar, baskets of eggs, cans of ham and corned beef, beans of every shape and size, and other essentials, she recalled her strolls through the New York City marketplace. One could find just about any food from any culture in the world—she remembered the lutefisk at Mrs. Sorrenson’s shop—and any smell.

  Julia grasped a jar of pickles then swiveled to Miriam. “I think you need these. Don’t all pregnant ladies?”

  Vinegar glugged from a barrel as Miriam filled her clay jug with the pungent li
quid. She peeked from the spigot to Julia. “Yeah, grab a jar. I tell ya, I crave those store pickles more than anything.” She smiled. “Well, almost anything. I want lemonade even more. We better get some lemons while we’re here.”

  Julia tapped her back and grinned. “Is that why you’re always making lemonade ‘for the youngsters’?”

  Miriam winced. “Maybe.” Finished filling the jug, she hoisted it into a wooden crate on the counter. After about an hour of intent picking and choosing, with little conversation, Miriam called Julia over to her. “You ’bout ready?”

  “Yes,” Julia answered, edging next to her. “Any time.”

  Miriam placed a final item on the counter—several yards of fashionable blue fabric with tiny light blue flowers and a faint touch of yellow.

  Julia smoothed her hand over it. “It’s beautiful. Are you sewing yourself a dress?”

  Miriam pressed her palm over Julia’s hand and smiled. “It’s for you.”

  “For me? Why?” Julia felt her forehead crumple.

  Miriam’s dark hair wisped out of her bun and framed her face. “Elizabeth, Jefferson, Abe, the children, myself and—all of us.” She paused. “We love you. And we want to say thank you for teaching the children and for all the other ways you’ve blessed us.”

  Julia objected. “It’s you who’ve blessed me. I haven’t done anything but impose on your generosity. Especially lately, with all my moping. Oh, I’ve been awful.”

  Miriam pushed back, still gripping Julia’s arms. “No, dear. Far from it. You’re a joy, a delight to have in our home.” Her eyes brimmed with appreciation as she dropped her hands and leaned against the counter.

  “For me,” Miriam continued “it’s more than just having a kind, sweet girl brightening up the place.” Her brow knitted together and she shifted her weight. “You know, it’s far from easy to be a mother of six out here on the frontier. I mean, the young’uns are a blessing, but,” she sighed, “man alive, they’re more work than a year’s worth o’ laundry. Especially when the oldest is a rambunctious one, like my Christopher.”

  She eyed Julia and her voice softened. “I know the Lord wants me to be longsuffering and full of charity and kindness, but sometimes, especially before you came, I’d get so plumb tuckered out. I wasn’t the kind of mother I knew the Lord wanted me to be. So, Julia, I’m not saying you’ve cured me of my misconduct, but seeing how you don’t let things get to you and how you smile and laugh with the children, the way you listen so fixedly when they talk—well, it encourages me to do the same. Why even when those naughty youths were branding mice that day, you whipped them into shape without an unkind word. I know you’re not a mother yet, but you make me want to be a better one.” Her eyebrows slanted upward and her lips curled into a smile. “So there’s my long way of saying that I’m grateful to have you in my life, and I hope, no matter what happens, that we can be friends, sisters.”

  “Oh, Miriam.” Julia sent her friend a grateful smile. “That’s so kind of you to say.”

  “Well, I don’t know what that letter said, but I imagine your headmistress is longing to have you home. I know I would. But we all wanted to tell you that if you decide to stay here, you’re welcome.”

  The shopkeeper set to work tallying up the order, and Julia sat on the chair beside the door, the impact of Miriam’s words hitting her. She was welcome here. She wasn’t a burden. They wanted her to stay.

  Looking at this woman and envisioning the friendship she’d felt from each member of the family during her days at the ranch, she suddenly ached to hold onto it. Certainly, before the night Isaac left, she’d begun thinking of Lonesome Prairie as home. She’d even considered finding work and eventually staking her own claim, if perhaps Abe or Jefferson would help.

  She hadn’t considered staying only because of Isaac—although she had to admit the parson’s character had drawn her from the first moment she met him—but because the whole community enticed her, from the Pretty Apron Brigade to the way Isaac’s parishioners displayed their appreciation at his birthday party. Even teaching the children had been a joy. She could make a place for herself here. At least she thought she could.

  Yet even though she appreciated her friends and had considered staying, returning to New York was still her plan. Julia rubbed the back of her neck as a tide of reality tensed her muscles. She could never be part of their family, or even the community—not without Isaac returning her feelings. It would be too painful…impossible.

  If she stayed in Lonesome Prairie, or even Big Sandy, she was sure to run into him. Knowing Miriam and Elizabeth, they’d pull her into their family and make her one of them. She’d be invited to birthdays and holidays, and of course Isaac would be there, too. Not only could she not imagine hiding her feelings for him, she had to admit she felt a little foolish, too. Everyone at that party surely noticed how she cared for him. She hadn’t been shy about catching his eye across the fire or clinging to him after they found Bea. She’d forever be known as the New York lady who set her bonnet for the preacher but was rejected. No, she couldn’t be known as that person.

  The door creaked as a burly cowhand walked into the shop, and Julia lifted her head, remembering she was supposed to help Miriam, not wallow in self-pity. She returned to the counter, where the shopkeeper still added up the total, and turned to face Miriam.

  “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, and I’m thankful for your kind offer, too…but I’m sorry.” Julia bowed her head. “I can’t stay.”

  Miriam’s lips puckered in a slight frown, and Julia could see tears pooling in her friend’s eyes. The older woman squeezed Julia into another embrace, seeming to accept Julia’s statement and choosing not to push. She let her go and then wiped a tear from her cheek as she lifted the fabric and placed it in Julia’s arms. “We know your beautiful skirt got ruined on your train ride here. This fabric doesn’t compare with your fancy New York styles, but we hope we can make one to replace it. Elizabeth and I thought the three of us could do it together.”

  “You’re too kind. Thank you.”

  Miriam gave Julia a smile then surveyed the crate’s contents. “Well, I think that’s about it. I used to always stop at Aponi’s house for a quick visit, but since that’s not possible, I suppose we should just head home. Jefferson will appreciate a warm meal when he gets back from tending to the sheep.”

  “A warm meal?”

  A man’s gravelly voice rattled through the store, and Julia’s stomach clenched at the sight of Horace Whitbaum. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

  “Is that my wife talkin’ about a warm meal? Ain’t nothin’ I’d like more.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “It’s amazing how a change of attitude can make time go by faster.” Isaac scraped the last bite of his oatmeal breakfast from his plate and swallowed it with a grin. “It’s been another week. This one went by much faster than the first.” He moseyed over and put the tin plate in the dishpan resting on the ground next to the cabin.

  Jim threw a bit of dry oatmeal to a sparrow and swigged a sip of coffee—or the mixture he called coffee. Isaac wasn’t sure what was actually in it. “Yeah, you’re much easier to live with since you started trustin’ the Lord.”

  Mabelina smiled, her red hair glimmering in the crisp sunlight. “But Parson, we need to think of something. You gotta tell that Julia how you feel or you’re gonna burst. I was telling Jim on our walk that if you smile any bigger, your face is gonna split in two, and all types of sunshine is gonna spill out.”

  Isaac fingered the bill of his parson hat and then rubbed his cheeks. “I know. She is cramming the bull’s portion of my thoughts these days.”

  “Not just your thoughts. Your words,” Mabelina added with a teasing smile. “I feel downright tired of that girl, and I’ve spent less than a day with her my whole life.”

  “I’m sorry.” Isaac’s neck warmed. “Everything seems to remind me of her.” He lowered his head then peeked up at Mabelina. “I’ll try
to hold back.”

  Mabelina moved from her spot beside the campfire and tapped Isaac on the head. “You better,” she teased.

  “Now, my little marmot.” Jim scooped himself another serving of oatmeal. “You shoulda heard me talkin’ ’bout you before I told ya how I felt.” He took a bite, leaving a glob on his mustache.

  “That’s true!” Isaac pointed at Jim. “He barely saved a breath for breathing when it came to blathering on about you.” Isaac eyed the couple. “I have to say, I was all for getting out of this place a week ago, but I’m glad for your and Mabelina’s sake that Judge Booker doesn’t seem to have turned up yet. I like watching you two doting newlyweds.”

  “They sure are dotin’.” Lefty returned from getting a drink of water from the well spout, apparently unable to bear the bitter “coffee.” “All that cooing and love talk, boy howdy, it makes me want to find a wife of my own.”

  Jim squinted. “Ain’t no better way to make a man become his best than ta bring a good woman into his life.” He winked at Mabelina, who batted her eyes.

  “That true, Parson?” Lefty asked.

  Isaac grinned. “I suppose one of the reasons the Good Lord made marriage was to help the male persuasion be what He called them to be. He did say it wasn’t good that man be alone, remember?”

  Lefty perked up as he plopped down on his stump. “Guess after we get outta this place, I’d better follow the Good Lord’s instruction then. Find me a wife.”

  “Me and you both.” Isaac laughed. “Well, I’m gonna head out for a walk. Be back in a bit.”

  “You and those walks, Parson. Every morning these days.” Jim spooned himself yet another helping of oatmeal.

  Isaac peered at Jim. “Not much better than a morning walk to clear the mind and—”