Love Finds Faith

by Martha Rogers

  He entered a kitchen filled with the aroma of beef cooking on the stove and fresh-baked yeast breads in the oven. “How long ’til supper? I’m starving.”

  Ma grinned and cocked her head to the side. “That one thing hasn’t changed a bit. You still eat like you never had a decent meal in your life.”

  “What can I say? I’m a growing young man.” He kissed her cheek that was still smooth as silk and now warm from the heat of the kitchen as well as the weather.

  “That may be, but you’ll have to wait about fifteen minutes like the rest of us. Why don’t you go help Margaret get the table ready?”

  “Think I’d rather check on some things in the office. Margaret and Rose can manage the table.” He pecked her cheek again and sauntered out of the kitchen and through the dining room where Margaret and Rose set plates around the table.

  Micah grinned and waved then headed for what was now his office. He closed the door behind him and walked over to a locked cabinet. There he grasped the neck of a bottle of liquor he’d bought the last time he’d been in town. This was one of those days when he needed something to get him through the evening.

  He placed the bottle and a shot glass on the desk then slumped down into Pa’s old chair. He would have to replace it with one that fit his lanky frame if he stayed around longer. Did he have any other choice? The bottle sat there, beckoning, but Micah hesitated. Did he want to start down that road again?

  Finally he poured a little into the glass then gulped it before he could think about it again. There, just that little bit wouldn’t hurt.

  Suddenly the image of Hannah Dyer danced before his eyes. The look she’d given him when she spotted him coming from the saloon with the bottle of liquor had been anything but cordial. In fact, it had shouted her disapproval. Why did she care? They were barely friends, so it shouldn’t make any difference to her what he did. But for some reason it did.

  Micah shoved the bottle back into the drawer and under the books. Keep it out of sight and he might forget about it. He pulled off his bandana and started to wipe out the glass, but stopped. Ma would smell the liquor on it. His gaze lit upon a few sheets of paper on his desk. One swipe and the glass was clean. Then he wadded the paper into a small ball and tossed it into the waste can. He’d have to stay clear of Ma until after they ate, or her bloodhound nose would pick up the scent on his breath. That had been a dumb thing to do here at the house.

  Ma’s voice called out from the dining room letting him know supper was on the table. He strolled out and took his seat. Seeing both Pa and Levi’s chairs empty still brought a stab of pain, but it didn’t hurt quite as much after several weeks.

  Ma stared at him with a gaze that pierced him straight between the eyes. “Micah, please say grace for us.”

  He hadn’t said grace over a meal since he’d been home, but now she asked him to do just that. He cleared his throat. What could be so hard about saying a few words over some food, even if was to a God he didn’t really have faith in anymore? “Yes, ma’am.” He bowed his head and searched his mind for what Pa always used to say. “For Thy bountiful blessings, Lord, we give Thee thanks. Bless us with this food as nourishment for our bodies. Amen.”

  He opened his eyes and raised his head to find Margaret staring at him. What could that mean? He reached across the table to the platter of meat. “This roast looks good enough to eat, Ma.” A chuckle followed in an attempt to bring a little laughter to the group.

  Ma only smiled and the girls shook their heads. Looked like another meal eaten in mostly silence. He bit into the roast and savored the rich flavor of beef. At least the food was good even if the conversation lacked any flavor at all.

  Hannah finished up the bandage on Billy Weatherby’s arm. “There. Your arm will be good as new in a few days. But like the doctor suggested, don’t go thinking you can jump off the porch again anytime soon. You could have broken your arm like Kenny Davis did.”

  Billy grinned back at her and touched the bandage. “I won’t, Miss Hannah, I promise. I don’t want a broken arm.”

  She helped him down from the examining table and nodded to Doreen Weatherby. “He’ll be fine. My two brothers always had scrapes and cuts when they were growing up.”

  Doreen grabbed her son’s hand. “Thank you, Miss Dyer. I’ll speak to the doctor on the way out.” She leaned down and ruffled Billy’s hair. “When we get home, you go straightway to your room and change your clothes. I’ll have to mend those torn pants.”

  Their departure brought a smile to Hannah’s heart as she remembered the many times her brothers had torn or ruined their clothing with their antics. At least if the Lord gave her boys of her own one day, she’d know what to expect from them. A sigh escaped her lips. That day most likely would never happen.

  While she cleaned up the room, the idea of having children of her own someday bounced through her thoughts again, but it always ended up with Micah’s face in the middle. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep him out of her daydreams, much less her thoughts.

  Her heart had skipped a beat with disappointment when she’d spotted him coming from the saloon with a bottle of whiskey under his arm. Their gazes had locked, and no doubt he’d seen her look of disapproval by the way he jerked his eyes away from her and hurried off to his horse.

  If Micah was anything like some of the other prodigals she’d known, drinking had been part of his rebellion. One thing for certain, if he planned to take that bottle home with him, he’d have to hide it from his mother. Ruth Gordon didn’t seem like a woman who’d tolerate that kind of behavior from her son.

  As much as Hannah would’ve liked to be more than friends with Micah, he had stayed clear of her as though she had a plague or worse. Of course he was busy with the ranch, but his rejection of her still hurt. How could she do anything to help if he wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence?

  With no other patients waiting to see the doctor, Hannah ambled into the kitchen where Sallie and Molly baked cookies. Daniel lay asleep in his cradle, and Clara and Tommy sat at the table drawing pictures. “Hmm, it sure smells good in here. I hope those are cinnamon sugar cookies in the oven. They’re my favorite.”

  Molly giggled and swiped a flour-laden hand across her cheek, leaving a flour mark behind. “That’s what Mama said. I like them too, but the molasses ones are my favorite.”

  “Those are good too, but then I like any kind of cookie.” Hannah sat down with Clara and Tommy. She would really like a few minutes to talk with Sallie alone, but Sallie’s time with her family meant so much to her that Hannah didn’t want to interfere.

  Sallie removed a pan of cookies from the oven. “Supper will be delayed a bit because of our baking spree. We got started and couldn’t seem to stop. Right, Miss Molly?” She reached over and wiped a smudge of flour from Molly’s cheek.

  “Right, Mama. This is fun.” Even her red hair had a few streaks of flour in it.

  Tommy concentrated on his picture, his tongue between his teeth. Then he laid down his pencil and peered at Hannah. “Is Billy all right? He sure had a lot of blood.”

  “He’s fine now. His mother took him home. He does have a few stitches though and will most likely have a scar.” She leaned over his shoulder. “That’s an excellent drawing of a horse. Looks almost like you could ride him.” The muscles of the horse almost throbbed as Tommy had drawn him racing across a field. “Will you color this one in for me and let me hang it in my room?”

  Tommy nodded, beaming with pride.

  Clara held up a drawing of the schoolhouse, and though good, it had the mark of a six-year-old in its uneven lines and abstract markings. “I like that one too, Clara. You are both good artists.”

  The two young ones grinned and hopped down to hug Hannah. Tommy eyed his picture. “I’ll fix this one just for you.” Then he turned to his mother. “May we go and play now?”

  “Of course, but play upstairs in your rooms. Have a cookie to take with you.”

  They each gra
bbed a cookie and scampered from the kitchen. Sallie finished moving the cookies from the pan to a cooling rack. “This is the last batch, so we’ll let them cool before we put them with the others.” She set the pan on the counter and wrapped an arm about Molly’s shoulders. “We’re all done here, so you can go too. I’ll get supper started.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” With a twinkle in her eye she snagged a cookie and skipped through the door. She called back over her shoulder, “I’m going to practice the piano if Papa doesn’t have any patients.”

  Sallie pulled up a chair and sat beside Hannah. “I think you have something on your mind. That’s why I sent the children on their way. Is there a problem?”

  When they were growing up, Sallie always knew when Hannah needed to talk, and now she’d done it again. Strains of music drifted in from the parlor. That meant no patients in the office, so Hannah had more time to talk. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your time with the children, and I don’t want to take time away from supper preparations.”

  “You didn’t and you won’t. All I have to do for supper is cook the meat. Everything else is simmering on the stove, and the children were ready for a different activity.” She picked up a cinnamon cookie and crunched down on it.

  Being concerned, but not nosy, Sallie wouldn’t come right out and ask what troubled Hannah, and for that matter, Hannah wasn’t even sure herself except that it concerned Micah. She plunged in, not wanting to waste any of their precious time alone. “I . . . I saw Micah come out of the saloon the other day carrying a bottle of whiskey. I’m afraid he may be taking to drink because of his pa’s death and all the responsibility of the ranch.”

  “Oh, dear, that doesn’t sound good, but then it may mean nothing at all. He may have bought it for medicinal purposes.” She reached over and clasped Hannah’s hands. “I warned you not to care about him too much. We don’t know what happened in those years he was away from his family.”

  “Yes, I know that, but I also know he never really wanted the ranch. Margaret told me how much he hated ranching. Now with Levi gone, he has all the responsibility on his shoulders.” Responsibilities like that when not wanted would be enough to break anyone’s spirit, especially someone like Micah Gordon. And from what she had heard from Margaret at church, Ellie had made no headway as yet with Levi either. How could two grown men be so stubborn?

  Sallie squeezed Hannah’s hands. “All we can do is to pray for them.”

  Of course she was right, yet Hannah wanted to do so much more. But she had no idea what that could be.

  CHAPTER 22

  MICAH RODE INTO town after supper. Friday nights would be busy in the saloon as cowboys from the area ranches came in to spend their cash. The busier it got, the better for him to blend in and not be noticed. He could sit in a corner and drown his miseries without bothering anyone else. Ma had found his bottle in the office and disposed of it. At least he figured that’s what happened since it had disappeared from where he’d stashed it. His resolve to abstain had dissolved after a few more head had been lost over the last two weeks.

  The men had begun to look at him askance when the foreman began issuing most of the orders every day. Micah had told Roy to decide what needed to be done and let the men know their duties for the day. This morning he’d explained his reasons for giving the foreman more of the responsibility, and the men accepted it without question. They’d follow Roy Bateman’s orders much more readily than they had Micah’s anyway.

  No one in the family had heard anything from Levi since the reading of the will over a month ago. Micah hadn’t been to church for several weeks, and Levi hadn’t made an appearance either. Ma had scolded but stopped short of demanding Micah’s attendance with her and his sisters on Sunday. No doubt Ma still prayed for both her boys, but it didn’t appear as if God listened.

  Micah snorted. Why should God care about him or Levi for that matter? Both had disappointed their family. If the ranch survived, it would be through Micah’s determination and Roy’s leadership. But sometimes he needed to get away from the problems of the ranch, as he had done the past two weekends.

  When he entered the Texas Star Saloon, the bartender reached under the counter and came up with Micah’s favorite brand of liquor and a shot glass. “Thanks, Louie.” He dropped a few coins on the bar and picked up the bottle and glass.

  The place had filled up fast even for a Friday night. The hot days of summer made the trip to the saloon on the weekend even more important to the ranchers and farmers around these parts. Micah sauntered back to a table on the rear wall. From there he could see everything that went on.

  A poker game started up a few tables over. At one time in the past the game would have lured him to join, but the loss of a large sum of money and a night in jail a few years back had cured him of the desire to gamble away his hard-earned money. Not that he earned any now. What he had left from his savings had dwindled to almost nothing. He’d used most of it to help the ranch, but it hadn’t gone far.

  He poured a shot of amber liquid into his glass. Now here he was spending money on what Ma called devil’s brew. Maybe it was, but if he had to make it through the next few weeks until the cattle drive, the expense wasn’t a luxury but a necessity.

  None of the girls bothered to come to his table. They’d learned he wanted no part of them, so they left him alone. They still tried to flirt from a distance, but Micah ignored them and tended to his own business . . . forgetting his problems.

  A hand slapped down on the table. Micah flinched and looked up into the eyes of James Hempstead, Margaret’s beau. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

  James pulled out a chair and sat. He leaned his elbows on the table and narrowed his eyes at Micah. “Then don’t talk. Just listen.”

  Micah opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and gulped down the liquid in his glass. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Talk all you want, but it doesn’t mean I’ll listen.” Margaret had probably put James up to this, otherwise James would never have darkened a saloon’s doors.

  “Suit yourself. I’ve seen the hurt in your ma’s and sisters’ eyes when you act the way you have. Margaret and Rose both want you to be the cheerful big brother they remember and not the scowling, angry man you’ve become.”

  Micah pushed his hat back on his head. “Well, now, I take it you’ve become the voice of my family. Your coming here was most likely Margaret’s idea. I’m not the boy they remember from years ago. I’m a man with a job I don’t want and hate.” He clamped his mouth shut. He’d already said more than he’d planned to say all evening.

  “That may be so, and I understand your feelings about the ranch. The thing is, your pa died before he did anything about it. He left you with a debt you have to pay, or your family will be left with nothing. At least now they have a place to live, and my father is more than willing to give them credit at the store for whatever they need.”

  A sneer and harsh words formed before Micah could think. “And all that’s doing is adding to the debt. We don’t need to be piling up bills that might not get paid, and we certainly don’t want anyone’s charity.” He downed another swig of liquor. “Go mind your own business.”

  “Micah, I love your sister and plan to marry her. What you’re doing affects her, so it is my business. She’s hurting because of what you’re doing. She knows you’re here at the saloon on Friday nights, and so does your ma. Neither one of them will say anything because they’re afraid you’ll run off again.”

  Although Micah had considered doing just that, he sure didn’t intend to let James know about it. Even though James had a right to be concerned because of Margaret, he had no right to dictate what Micah did or didn’t do with his own time. Maybe he wasn’t doing such a good job at the ranch, but he didn’t want to find out what he should or shouldn’t do from anybody else when he had a hard enough time deciding for himself.

  “Look, James, I don’t plan to lose the ranch. We’ll get those cattl
e to market no matter how much I hate those drives.”

  “A cattle drive is no place for a drunk. Pull yourself together and be the man your ma needs right now. Your pa would be disappointed in you, so don’t disappoint her too.”

  That was nothing new. Pa had never approved of anything Micah had done, so why should now be any different? “I think it’s time for you to leave. You haven’t changed my mind one way or the other, so you may as well go tell Margaret that you failed.”

  James shook his head and stood. “You are the most hardheaded, stubborn man I’ve ever met, even worse than your pa. All I can say is, please don’t lose the ranch because of your own personal problems. Think of your mother and your sisters.” With that he whirled around and marched from the saloon.

  Micah stared at the glass before him, its appeal no longer tempting. He shoved it aside and sat with fist clenched on the table. How he’d like to drown himself in the bottle and forget everything James said and everything that needed to be done. Only trouble with that was the fact that no matter how much drowning he did to forget, the problems never went away and always waited for him to come up for air.

  Levi stopped and dismounted in front of Ellie’s house. He looked forward to these Friday night dinners and her good home cooking. Food at the Hudson ranch wasn’t bad, but it couldn’t compare to what Ellie could put together. Her mother helped, but for these meals Ellie did most of the preparation.

  The front door opened, and Ellie appeared and waved. “Come on in, we’ve been waiting for you.”

  He wrapped the reins of Maverick around the rail and waved back. How pretty she looked standing in the doorway with her welcoming smile. It could be like this every night some day when they could marry and have their own home. What a wonderful wife she’d be with all her talents as well as beauty.