Love Never Fails

by Martha Rogers

  In all her twenty-two years, God hadn’t failed her yet. He already had her future planned, and now she had to make sure she listened and didn’t miss what she should do in the days ahead.

  Molly stayed up in her room even through the noon meal. Later Mama brought up a tray with soup and homemade bread. She set it on the table beside the bed and gazed down at Molly.

  “Are you ready to talk again?”

  Molly squeezed her eyes shut. “No. Please keep praying for me.”

  Mama bent down to kiss Molly’s forehead. “Of course I will. God will give you the answers you seek if you will listen.” After those words of wisdom, she left the room.

  Of course Mama was right, but she’d been trying to listen to God ever since the conversation downstairs this morning. She had spent the rest of the morning scanning every passage in the Old Testament that mentioned wars and battles. She’d reread Romans 13:4, which spoke of rulers who bear the sword as God’s agents for punishing evildoers. And she’d read Hebrews 11:34, which clearly stated that God blessed His faithful servants with success in battle. Would God have blessed them if He was against war? She thought not.

  The rich aroma of the homemade soup reminded Molly of her hunger, but she didn’t want to eat until she’d come to a decision.

  Although she’d been with Stefan only two weeks, he had become a part of her life and she missed him now. What if she never saw him again? No, she didn’t want to consider that. She sat up on her bed and grabbed her Bible again.

  “All right, Lord, I’ve seen from my reading that wars and violence are sometimes necessary and You use them for Your purposes. I think I can understand that now. Mama had to defend herself just like I wanted to defend myself at the livery.” Still, the longed-for peace eluded her.

  She placed the Bible back on the table and picked up the slice of bread spread with a thick coat of butter. She nibbled a bit and let her mind wander back over the past few weeks. She swallowed a bit of the bread and lifted her fingers to her lips. The memory of Stefan’s lips against hers remained vivid in her memory.

  The room had become stifling with its heat. She had to get out of there now. Out on the porch, she stood at the railing under the shade of the elm spreading its branches across the yard. Molly gazed up the street toward town. Why did it hold such an attraction for her? Especially after what happened on Wednesday.

  She went back in and grabbed her parasol. A walk would do her good and get rid of the pent-up energy coursing through her body. People greeted her and smiled as she walked along the boardwalk past the bakery shop, the dressmaker’s store, the hotel, and then the livery.

  A shudder shook her body as the memory of the attack came flooding back. She bit her lip and turned away. She could have lost her life that day and never have seen Stefan again.

  Her breath caught in her throat and a new understanding flowed through her veins straight to her heart. She whirled around and almost ran the distance back home. Life was short and could be over in an instant, whether on a battlefield or in a town like Stoney Creek. Where she lived didn’t matter, it was who she lived with that made the difference.

  When she reached the steps to her home, she stopped, panting and out of breath. Andrew stood at the top peering down at her.

  “It’s a little warm to be running, isn’t it?” He held out his hand. “Come, I think you need something cold to drink.”

  Molly grabbed his hand and let him pull her up to the porch. Once beside him, she grabbed his arm. “I need to ask you something.”

  “All right. Let’s sit here in the shade.” After they were seated, Andrew leaned forward. “Now, what’s on your mind? I can see those wheels spinning in your head, so tell me, what sent you out in the heat of the day?”

  After a deep breath to calm her nerves and give her time to form an answer, she said, “You told me how much you love Clarissa, but do you love her enough to leave everything here and go to Louisiana for her?”

  “Yes, I do and I’ve already spoken to your father about that. He’s willing to give me a recommendation at the hospital in New Orleans. That’s not so far from Clarissa and a place her parents enjoy visiting. If I’m there, maybe they won’t protest Clarissa’s relationship with me.”

  “You’d actually do that?” Clarissa had already told her she’d leave Louisiana in a minute if it meant spending a lifetime with Andrew.

  “Of course, and it’s all arranged. I’m to accompany your mother tomorrow on the train to Louisiana. While she is seeing to her mother, I’ll be at the hospital in New Orleans finding my way around and deciding if that’s the place for me or if I should have my own practice.”

  Andrew and Clarissa had their future coming together, and Molly’s heart filled with happiness for them. However good that was, it wasn’t the most important matter at hand. Stoney Creek was a great town and a wonderful place to live, but it was just another town without Stefan there.

  She leaned toward Andrew. “I’ve decided I want to be where Stefan is no matter where it is. God showed me that my attitude towards war was a bit unrealistic. He showed me story after story in the Bible where armies were used to accomplish His purposes, and He reminded me that He is in control and uses earthly rulers to fight and punish evil.”

  Andrew reached over and hugged Molly. “That is the most wonderful news I’ve heard in weeks.”

  “I want to let Stefan know, but I haven’t heard from him yet, so I don’t know where to send a letter.” Excitement built in her heart, and she had so much to tell him about her discoveries. A letter had to come soon, or she’d burst.

  Mama stepped out to the porch. “I thought I heard voices out here. I have fresh tea made if you’d like a little cold refreshment to—” She stopped and stared at Molly. “What has happened? You’re positively glowing.”

  Molly jumped up and hugged her mother. “God showed me the truth and helped me figure it all out. I do love Stefan with all my heart and I want to be with him no matter where he is.”

  Mama returned the hug with her arms tight around Molly’s back. “Oh, my sweet child, that’s the best news I’ve heard today.”

  After a moment, she held Molly at arm’s length. “Did Andrew tell you he’s going with me to Louisiana tomorrow?”

  “Yes, he did, and I’m excited for him. Of course I’ll miss him around here, but if it all works out, he’ll be with Clarissa.”

  Andrew laughed. “Oh, it’s good to see you so happy after everything that’s happened the past week.” Then his expression sobered. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Whiteman. I forgot about your mother.”

  “That’s all right. I know what you mean, and besides, Mother is in good hands. Tom and his wife are taking good care of her. Seeing her will ease my mind, so that’s why I’m going.”

  That may be true, but Molly had overheard her speaking with Papa only last evening. Mama was much more concerned than she let on, but she depended on the good Lord to take care of Grandma.

  How Molly wished she could be going to Louisiana too. She had so much to tell Clarissa, but staying here would be a bigger help for Mama. Her happiness wouldn’t be complete until she could tell Stefan how much she loved him and wanted to be with him wherever
he was, even on an army fort.

  CHAPTER 23

  STEFAN GLANCED BACK at the soldiers following him. Now back into normal routine after the holiday, his unit escorted the mail, payroll, and supply detail back to the fort. So far the trip had been without incident as it usually was, but recent rumors of an outlaw band hiding in the mountains had brought concern for his men.

  The sun bore down and shimmered across the desert before them. Sparse vegetation in this region gave little concern for an ambush, but doubt skittered across Stefan’s thoughts. He’d seen groups of bandits come out of the foothills so fast they left no time for planning, only instinctive reaction. Those mountains and foothills loomed ahead of him, their peaks and valleys offering beauty to the blue skies overhead.

  Coming as he did from a coastal state with mostly flat lands and only a few hills, the mountains had impressed him with their majesty. He’d been told that these were nothing compared to the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, but to him these were impressive enough.

  Ten men rode under his command and he had utmost confidence in their abilities and awareness of their surroundings. The wide brim of his hat shaded his eyes as he peered into the distance. The men would need a rest break soon. With so little shade to offer relief he’d take time only for refreshing drinks of water for his men and the horses.

  In another two hours they’d be near enough to the fort that if anything happened they’d hear the bugle sound of battle and send help immediately. Getting through the next two hours became his prime goal.

  At his signal the small supply train of wagons came to a halt. Canteens were passed around, refilled from the water barrels, and passed again. Each man made sure his horse had water before remounting in preparation to continue their journey.

  “Lieutenant Elliot, the men are ready to depart.” A corporal saluted then stepped back to await instruction.

  “Thank you, Evans.” He returned the salute and the man turned to rejoin the group, who were mounted and ready.

  Stefan swung his leg up over the horse he’d brought back from the Gordon ranch. So far he’d been the perfect mount and took to the drills as if he’d been born to do them. Stefan raised his arm then moved it forward as a signal to resume their march.

  Several times he pushed the image and thoughts of Molly from his mind. He had to stay alert and ready for trouble if it came, not daydream about a girl who couldn’t be his without some miracle or intervention from God. At least they no longer had fear of an Indian attack. With both Geronimo and Cochise captured, that danger no longer existed.

  When they picked up the supplies he’d left his letter to Molly and one to his family to be posted on the next mail run. He hadn’t heard from her, but he wouldn’t until she had news from him. Even then he had no guarantee she’d respond.

  His scout, Running Cloud, came galloping up and reined in next to him. “Looks like trouble ahead. A large band of outlaws is hunkered down up in the mountains. They were packing up and mounting like they were fixing to head out. Don’t think they saw me, sir.”

  Stefan whipped out his binoculars and peered in the direction the scout pointed. A dust cloud formed in the distance, still too far away for the naked eye to see. “How many were there?”

  “I counted at least eight, maybe ten, sir.”

  Stefan gazed at the terrain around them. Nothing but hills and scrub bushes and a few boulders. Nothing to hide behind to wait. He had enough men, but if they didn’t have a place to hide and attack as the men approached, they’d have to fight in the open. Even if he rode his men hard from this point, they’d never make it back to the fort in time, but they could get closer.

  After issuing orders for them to proceed to the fort with all haste, Stefan sent his men forward. “Running Cloud, ride to the fort and get help.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Indian raced off toward the fort and Stefan could only pray he’d reach it in time to send more troops. He stopped and trained his binoculars on the terrain behind. This time the dust cloud loomed much closer. He lowered the glasses and could make out the dust rising in the distance.

  The heavily loaded wagons didn’t make as much progress as he’d like. He raced ahead of the unit but, when he realized the gang was getting closer, he called for them to halt. When all were stopped and gathered round, Stefan gave instructions. “Running Cloud says there are eight to ten men in the band, so we’re in for a fight. Get the wagons secured, and take your places. You know what to do. I sent Running Cloud back to the fort for help. Man your positions and pray he makes it back in time.”

  In only a few minutes the men had formed a battle station and the cloud grew larger and closer. Now the thunder of hooves in the distance roared in his ears. They’d come in with guns raised and firing. He warned his men to wait until they had the targets well in sight then shoot to kill.

  Stefan’s heart pounded loud and hard, his hands steady on his rifle. This is what he’d been trained to do but would it be enough?

  Then the band was on them and the shooting began. Bullets whizzed past his head as he fired back then reloaded and fired again. Gunfire blasted the air around him as his men shot it out. The wagons offered some protection but not enough with this many attacking. Pain seared his cheek as a bullet whizzed by but he continued to shoot.

  The screams of men as they fell stabbed his soul and renewed his determination to fight. An object flew past him, but before he could react, flames shot from the wagon protecting him. Stefan tore off his jacket and flung it again and again over the orange fingers now racing toward the sky. Dear God, help us.

  He kept battling the fire until the heat seared his flesh and something blasted into him from behind with such force it pitched him forward against the side of the wagon. Pain like he’d never experienced slammed through his body. He hit the wagon side, dropped the jacket, and fell over, sprawled on the hot sand, unconscious.

  Sometime later he was roused when something nudged his cheek. He raised his head from the grit and opened his eyes, but only one worked. The sun’s glare almost blinded him but he could make out the shape of his horse’s head poking his face.

  “Warrior, you’re still here.” He placed his palms on the sand and tried to lift himself from the ground, but the pain was more than he could bear as his left arm gave way and his chest plummeted back to the gritty sand. He breathed deeply before attempting to move again. More pain radiated from his chin to his forehead. Not again. He’d only been back a few weeks. He sensed movement near him and reached out, thinking he’d grab Warrior’s reins. Instead a hand grabbed his arm and turned him over.

  “Colonel, Lieutenant Elliot’s alive!”

  A shadow blocked the sun, and Stefan once again opened his eyes. Through his one good eye, he recognized the face of Sergeant Major Grimes. Two others joined Grimes as they examined his wounds.

  “He’s burned and has a bullet hole in his shoulder, but I think we can move him.” As hands lifted him from the ground, excruciating pain laced his body with knife-like sharpness. Then he rested on the bed of a wagon. A glance to his left had him staring at one of his men also lying in the wagon. Stefan breathed in relief when the young man’s chest rose and fell. He was alive. How many others had survived? What had happened to his men?

  He yelled,
“Sergeant Major!”

  “Yes, sir, right here.”

  “Where are the rest of the men?”

  The soldier blinked his eyes and looked up then back down. “Three are dead, sir: Smith, Andrews, and Little. The rest are wounded or okay and are being taken back to the fort. We got here too late to save the cargo. Those outlaws took the payroll and are already high-tailin’ it back to the mountains. Colonel Sanford sent a unit after them, but I’m not sure it’ll do much good.”

  Three of his men dead. How could that be? And why couldn’t he see out of one eye? He grabbed Grimes’s arm. “What’s wrong with my eyes? I can’t see.”

  “Sir, one of them is swollen shut, but the other one looks okay. We’ll get you back to the fort and into the hospital right away.” He pushed a canteen of water against Stefan’s mouth. “Here, you need fluid in you.”

  Stefan gulped the tepid liquid that soothed his parched throat. He laid his head back down. “Thank you, Grimes, that helped.” If only the pain would stop, but he’d bear it until they made it back. He had to. Then darkness gripped him again.

  He awakened to the fresh, clean scent of the pillow and sheets. For a moment he thought he was home, but the weight on his chest and head told a different story. He opened his mouth, his burning throat crying for water.

  In the next few seconds, a hand lifted his head and pressed cool water against his lips. Once again he drank to slake his thirst and cool his throat. When finished, his head went back to the pillow. His gaze went down to his chest. The weight was caused by his heavily bandaged right arm and hand resting there. He raised his left hand only to find it also swathed in bandages. Still he used it to explore his head, and once again detected thick bandages. These covered the left side of his face and his head.