Gabe washed and lay atop the covers, staring at the shadows of the oaks dancing on the ceiling. Half an hour later, he got up and walked quietly out into the kitchen and dipped fresh water to drink. He lit a lantern and sat in one of the two chairs at the tiny table. A leather-bound book rested within reach. He pulled it toward him and opened it.
The pages were thinner than in most books, the text in columns. He recognized Irene’s Bible and turned to a few of the pages marked with slips of paper.
Proverbs caught his attention and he read several, then flipped back and found Psalms. He ran his finger over a few verses. If he hoped to gain any understanding, he’d better go to the beginning of this chapter.
There was a lot of talk of the law and the ungodly and heathen and kings. But as he read forward the writer cried out for God to save him and hear his cries.
In chapter seven, he lingered over the words of the psalmist. The Lord shall judge the people. Judge me, O Lord, according to my righteousness, and according to mine integrity that is in me.
Gabe sure didn’t want to be judged on his actions or his decisions. It gave him some peace of mind to think that God would judge him according to his integrity. He knew right from wrong, and he had upheld what he believed was right by seeing that those who’d murdered and stolen came to justice. Whenever it had been possible, he’d brought that person back to sit in court before a judge. Killing had always been a last resort.
Further on he read that the heathen are sunk down in their own pits and the wicked are snared by the work of their own hands. Their choices to do wrong had caused those men he’d hunted their own fates.
He wanted to know more about that Joshua fellow Sam had talked about. How in this whole fat book of names and places would he ever hope to find the one?
On one of the first pages, he found a table of contents and ran his finger down the names of the chapters. Come to find out, Joshua had his own chapter.
Gabe extinguished the lantern and carried the book back to his room. Irene wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it.
A couple of weeks later, Gabe stood inside the bank, securing a cashier’s check.
“You’ve been having a lot of expenses,” Rhys said, coming out of his office.
“Nothing comes free,” Gabe replied.
“My offer still stands for the land.”
“Still not interested. The house is almost finished. I’m heading for Durango to buy horses first thing in the morning.”
“Got riders to help you with that?”
“Hired two cowboys a week ago. They’re workin’ out just fine.” He tucked the check inside his vest pocket and left.
Elisabeth exited the courthouse after witnessing a legal transaction. Tying the ribbons of her bonnet under her chin, she spotted Gabe mounting his horse in front of the bank.
Since the night of Irene and Gil’s announcement, he’d accepted Josie’s invitations to dinner and had been cordial to Elisabeth, but they’d barely spoken. He was busy getting his ranch established, and she was…well, she was busy, too.
August drew to a close, and September was still warm, but the nights were cold. Elisabeth helped Josie launder bedding and quilts and hang them in the morning sun.
“I sense you’re holding some things inside lately,” her stepmother said to her. “You’re not yourself.”
Elisabeth waved the skirt of her wet apron in hopes of drying the fabric more quickly. “I’ve had a lot to think about.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Elisabeth thought a moment. “I’m not ready.”
“I understand you’re a very private person, Elisabeth. And your feelings run deep. But don’t hold things in that your family could help you with.”
Elisabeth nodded. She appreciated her stepmother’s concern and her wise counsel, but she wasn’t ready to voice her feelings.
“You know, my favorite place to go think has always been up the mountainside. Once you get about a third of the way up this incline behind the house, there’s a deer trail that leads to the most beautiful scenery you can imagine. You can look over the treetops and streets of Jackson Springs and to the south, the valley and ridges.” She glanced that direction now. “It seems silly, but I’ve never shared my place with anyone before. It’s my refuge.”
“Like our turret room,” Elisabeth said.
“But more private because I’ve been the only one to ever go there. It’s a good place to feel close to God and to think,” she said. “In case you should ever want to walk up there and be alone, I just thought I’d let you know.”
Josie’s secret place intrigued her, and the idea of investigating it stayed with her. Once the laundry was dry and the beds made with fresh sheets and the winter quilts, Elisabeth changed her clothes, picked up her Bible and made her way up the mountainside. The deer trail was easy to find, and she followed it until she came out at the place Josie had described.
There was no mistaking the location. She could see for miles in one direction, and in the other look down at the tops of homes and see the square yards, outhouses and clotheslines. She recognized trees in rows that obviously lined streets. Smoke curled from chimneys, and she picked up the faint smells of burning wood and coal. Farther up, above the ridge, the aspens were turning gold.
She imagined Josie as a newcomer to this town, newly married to a man she barely knew, faced with three young girls who had lost their mother—one of them being downright rude to her—and could see how this vantage point had been a refuge. From here the entire world appeared small and insignificant. Elisabeth felt small, but also like a part of something bigger than herself and infinitely more important than her day-today concerns.
God cared about her every need, she never doubted that. But His majesty and power became very real when gazing upon the beauty and magnificence of His creation. A scripture came to mind, and she said aloud, “Who am I, Lord, that You are mindful of me?”
She sat on a flat outcropping of rock and opened her Bible to the Psalms, quickly turning pages. When I consider the heavens and the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained, what is man that thou art mindful of him?
She knew precisely how David had felt, awed as he was by God’s magnificence. She read all of Psalm eight twice, and then traveled back to the preceding chapter and read. Oh, Lord my God, in Thee do I put my trust: save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver me. She read on. Arise, Oh, Lord, in Thine anger, lift up thyself because of the rage of mine enemies, and awake for me to the judgment that Thou hast commanded.
The Lord shall judge the people. Judge me, Oh, Lord, according to my righteousness, and according to mine integrity that is in me. Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end, but establish the just. For the righteous God trieth the hearts and reins. My defense is of God, which saveth the upright in heart. God judgeth the righteous, and God is angry with the wicked every day. If he turn not, he will whet his sword. He hath bent his bow and made it ready…. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own pate.
Elisabeth read these verses with a new perspective. Obviously God didn’t approve of people who did wicked things, but these were strong words. Words of warning and judgment. God ordained his arrows against the persecutors! Men like Goliath who tormented the king’s army? He had fallen to a young boy’s stone. Men like the one who killed Dr. Barnes?
“Thank You for showing this to me, Lord.” She read aloud the last verse in the Psalm. “‘I will praise the Lord according to His righteousness, and will sing praise to the name of the Lord most high.’”
Even a preacher’s daughter had to work things through on occasion. And yes, maybe she was as hard on herself as Gabe claimed. But much was expected of her—from God, from her father, from the community.
She’d been as disturbed by the fact that Gabe had hidden his profession from her as she’d been by the occupation itself. Looking at it from his point of view
she could see where he’d wanted to start over and not carry the baggage of his past into a new life.
Humming a little, she admired the expanse of blue sky and the various green hues of the trees. Eventually she made her way back down the hillside. Instead of going into the house, she traveled down the street to the church and entered through the side door.
Pausing outside her father’s office, she rapped softly on the open door. He looked up from the papers and his Bible spread across his desk. “I didn’t expect you today. I thought you were helping Josie.”
“We’re finished with the laundry. I even had some time to go off by myself and think.”
“You don’t do that often enough.”
“I probably need to, don’t I?” She sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk. Sometimes she sat there when they discussed sermon topics and on occasion she stopped to visit, but today she felt like one of his parishioners who’d come for counsel.
He rested his ink pen in its holder and flattened both hands on his paperwork. “What’s on your mind, daughter?”
Chapter Nineteen
“Were you disappointed when you learned what Gabe had done before coming here?”
“I wasn’t awfully surprised,” he replied. “Not after hearing how he handled those train robbers and seeing how he walked right up to that man who was holding Donetta Barnes. I can’t really say I was disappointed. The elements simply fell into place and made sense.” He studied her. “I take it you were disappointed?”
She admitted she was. “I understand that plenty of men carry guns,” she said. “But you carry yours for protection. You don’t set out in the morning to shoot someone.”
“What about Gil?” he mentioned. “His gun is for protection, but also to uphold the law if need be. He doesn’t go to work in the morning planning to shoot someone. And I doubt that’s how Gabe set out to bring in criminals.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
He studied her a moment longer. “He wasn’t judging the people he tracked down. Either they’d already been judged by a court and found guilty or he planned to turn them over to the law and a judge once they were in his custody.”
“But he did shoot men. And kill them.”
“Yes.”
She’d probably thought about this too much, but she couldn’t let it go. “Couldn’t he just shoot them in the knee or something?”
“Have you asked him that?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“How effective do you think that would have been with Mrs. Barnes’s life at stake?”
“That was different.”
“They were probably all different,” he suggested. “Each one an individual case with its own degrees of danger and difficulty. Ask him if a shot in the knee was ever good enough.”
“All right.”
“David was the apple of God’s eyes, and he killed men in battle. However unpleasant Gabe’s work was, he did a service to protect law-abiding citizens. Someone has to do that job or the country would be overrun with outlaws.”
She begrudgingly acknowledged the truth of his statement with a nod.
“You asked me how I feel about him. I can only guess how you feel about him, but ask yourself this— What does God feel toward Mr. Taggart?”
She looked at her father with surprise.
“Well?” he asked.
“God loves him,” she answered.
“And places great value on him,” he added.
And with that, Elisabeth had even more to consider. She got up and skirted around the desk to give her father a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Who’s coming for dinner tonight?” he asked.
“No one that I know of.”
“Ah, an intimate family dinner.” He chuckled. “See you then.”
Out of doors, she strolled toward the corner. Irene called to her, “Wait, Elisabeth! I need to ask you something.”
She paused and waited for Irene to join her near the curb.
“I’m planning to take the train to Denver and shop for a wedding dress. Would you like to come with me?”
Elisabeth could think of half a dozen reasons not to accompany her, but knowing how important the trip was to Irene, she said, “I’d love to go with you.”
Irene beamed and hugged her. “Oh, thank you. We’ll have such fun. Maybe we’ll go to the theater while we’re there.”
That evening after supper while the family was occupied with their individual activities, Elisabeth again made the trip down the hill. She knocked on the door of the parsonage, relieved when Gabe opened the door.
“Irene isn’t here.”
“I suspected as much. I was hoping to speak with you.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and then stepped outside. “Want to walk?”
“All right.”
He went back in and returned wearing his vest, so she knew he’d gone back for his ever-present holster. They walked slowly toward the central portion of town, passing home after home with lights glowing behind windows.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she answered. “Today I spoke with my father, and he had more insight into some of the things that have been troubling me.”
“He’s a wise person.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Good listener,” he added.
That remark had her wondering. “Have you…talked to him about personal things?”
“Some.”
She couldn’t fathom it. But of course her father wouldn’t speak of it to her. Neither would he share their private conversations with Gabe or anyone else. “You surprise me at every turn.”
“What’s so surprising?”
Every time they had a conversation, it got off track, and she wasn’t going to let that happen this time. “Nothing. What I wanted to mention to you was that he suggested I ask you about some of the things I was wondering, rather than just letting my thoughts run rampant.”
“What do you want to ask?”
“It’s about your occupation. Regarding what you did before you came here.”
“Hunting for bounty, Elisabeth. Go ahead and say it.”
“Bounty hunting,” she punctuated with a nod. “Where did you travel?”
“Wherever an outlaw’s trail led me. I’ve sought men everywhere from the Dakota Territories to the lower half of Texas.”
“How did you know who to look for and where they’d be?”
“Well…there are a couple of agencies who send out papers on wanted men. They pay higher bounties than local towns or state law enforcement agencies. Most every town has a marshal or a sheriff’s office, and the bigger ones keep the up-to-date papers.
“As for where to look, well, knowin’ that takes a lot of footwork and talking to the right people. Nobody can disappear, though, it’s a fact. And people like to talk.”
“I’m sure you had to be careful, because once the person you were seeking found out you were after him, he would try to kill you before you got to him.”
“That’s the truth.”
“And when you did find a man…say for example he’d changed his name and his ways and settled down, perhaps even had a family. What did you do then?”
“I didn’t go busting into their house and shoot ’im at the dinner table if that’s what you’re asking. I waited to find him alone, got the jump on him and handcuffed him. Most fellas like that went along peaceable like.”
“And the others? The ones who were still robbing trains and what have you?”
“I still got the jump on them and tried to take them in without a fight.”
“I guess some fought back. Or ran.”
“Some.” He paused just as they reached the trumpet-vine-covered arbor that led into the midtown park. “If you want to know how many men I killed, I can’t tell you that. I didn’t keep a log or notch my belt. Sometimes it happened, just like it happened that day in front of the doc’s p
lace.”
“Did you…did you ever aim so as not to kill them if you could help it?”
“Yes.”
They entered the park, which was lit only by two gas lamps at the entrance. Elisabeth knew the layout, so she led the way to a center area with stone benches.
They sat. The stones under them were still warm from the day’s sun, and the heat felt good since the night air had cooled.
“If it makes you feel any better, Irene asked me some of the same questions.”
That did make her feel a little better.
“Did you learn all you wanted to know?”
“Thank you, Gabe. Yes.”
“Since we’re talking, I have a question for you.”
“All right.”
“Weeks ago, when we first spoke about Gil and Irene, and I asked if you had feelings for him. Then I asked you about Rhys and you said—I can’t remember your exact words—but you said you weren’t in the market for a husband, unless God sent you one.”
“That’s still true,” she said.
“I asked then how you would know. You said we’d talk about it later, but you never answered my question. So I’m asking again. How will you know if God sends you a husband?”
She had to think about it. How would she know? “If I even suspected, I would pray about it,” she began.
“And what would you ask God for?”
“I’d ask Him to give me wisdom.” She’d done that actually. “And I’d ask Him to point me in the direction He’d have me to go. And I’d ask for my will to become His.”
“Pray for wisdom,” he repeated. “How would you know if you got it?”
“There’s a book of the Bible called James, and James says if any of us lacks wisdom, we should ask God and He’ll give it to us. So we only have to ask, and wisdom is ours.”
“I know who James is,” he said. “And I know his book is toward the back.”
She stared in surprise. “Yes!”
“I started reading Irene’s Bible one night. A day or so later she bought me my own.”
Marrying the Preacher's Daughter Page 16
