by Linda Ford
He pulled a rifle from the cupboard. “Fire this off, three shots about fifteen seconds apart. Do you know how to shoot this?”
“I’ve never even touched a gun.”
He showed her how to load it and pull the trigger. “Most important thing—press it hard to your shoulder and brace yourself for the kick. Oh, and aim at the sky. I wouldn’t want you killing one of the horses or blowing a hole through the bunkhouse.”
Her giggle revealed her nervousness.
He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “You’ll be able to do this?”
She tipped her chin upward. “Of course.” In fact, it was exciting to contemplate. Who’d believe she might get a chance to fire a real gun? Pa would be—well, she didn’t know if he’d be shocked or surprised or what. “I’ll be fine. Go find Paquette and, Burke, God be with you and help you find her safe and sound.”
“You really believe God will help?”
“I certainly do. I pray He will give you eyes to see and ears to hear.”
He squeezed her hand. “You pray and we’ll look.”
The men rode up to the door, leading a horse for Burke. They all carried lanterns and handed one to Burke as he mounted. He ordered the men in different directions. Just before he rode away, he turned and nodded to Jenny as if they shared something special. Perhaps they did. A shared concern over Paquette. An agreement to pray.
And something more. Something tenuous and forbidden but real. For tonight she was glad to acknowledge at least a fraction of her feelings for him—her confidence in his ability to find Paquette and a certainty that he trusted her to pray.
Burke hoped Jenny hadn’t guessed how concerned he was over Paquette’s absence. It wasn’t unusual for her to wander the prairie but she always returned by dark. She knew better than most the dangers of being out after that. How easily one could get turned around if the stars and moon were hidden as they were tonight. The danger of tripping in a gopher hole, falling and breaking something.
Finding her in the dark required a miracle. Why, they might ride three feet from her and if she couldn’t call out…well they would miss her as much as if she were ten miles away.
Jenny said God would help. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but she seemed to believe enough for both of them.
He rode slowly, pausing often to call and listen. He heard the men doing the same thing. “Paquette!” The sound echoed across the land, the only answer the whir of birds’ wings as they startled from their sleep.
His search took him farther and farther away from the ranch and with every step, his worry grew. Where was she? How could he hope to find her in this pitch-black night?
The darkness and the light are both alike to thee.
The words came softly from some distant room of his memories. He remembered his mother saying the words. They were from the Bible.
He didn’t doubt God saw as well in the dark as in the light. But would He allow Burke the same ability? Or at least guide him to Paquette? Jenny seemed to think He would. He certainly needed help beyond human ability. Now might be a good time to forget his doubts and believe in God’s divine help.
Lord God, you made the universe. You made night and day. They are the same to You. You know I have trouble believing You bother with the numerous details of mankind but if You do, please be so kind as to show me where Paquette is.
It was a weak sort of prayer yet the first real one he’d offered in too many years to count and it felt good. As if he’d turned from showing his back to God, to showing his face. Whether or not it would make a difference…well, time would tell.
He continued on. Riding a few feet, stopping, calling and listening. Nothing. His doubts returned. Seems God couldn’t be bothered with man’s many problems.
He got off his horse. Couldn’t explain why he did. Wasn’t like he was tired of riding. Shoot, he could ride all night if he wanted. He waved the lantern around more out of desperation than hope. Saw nothing and lowered the light. Something on the ground caught his eye. A flash of something bright. He plucked it up. A bead necklace. Like the ones Paquette wore. He straightened and turned again, the light above his head. Did he detect a movement on the edge of the patch of light? He stepped closer. This time he was sure a shadow shifted. Two more steps and he made out a shape. “Paquette, what are you doing?”
She didn’t move, her only response a soft mutter.
His nerves tensed. “Paquette?”
She shifted as if startled. Lifted her head then wilted and resumed her mumbling.
He strode over, shining the light in her face. “Paquette, are you hurt?”
She acted as if she hadn’t heard.
He touched her shoulder, felt the chill of her body. “Come on, let’s go home.” He urged her to her feet. She hadn’t walked upright since he’d met her, but she seemed to have curled closer to the ground, her steps agonizingly slow. He didn’t ask her any more questions. All that mattered at the moment was getting her home.
Ignoring her mumbled protests, he lifted her to the saddle and swung up to ride behind her. Several times she swayed. Only his arms around her kept her from pitching headlong to the ground.
She’d be fine as soon as she got back to the shelter of the house, as soon as she got warm. He had to believe it. But his nerves twitched with worry. Paquette was quiet and withdrawn. Flora had been loud and aggressive. Still the similarities stunned him. Seems this land was too much, even for those bred and born in it. He would do well to remember. Expecting any woman to settle here and survive the challenges was not reasonable. He quietly and firmly pushed aside the picture of Jenny in his kitchen every day for the rest of his life. It simply wasn’t possible. It would eventually destroy her, and he couldn’t bear for that to happen.
He concentrated on getting Paquette back to the house. “Jenny, I found her.”
Jenny was already racing across the veranda, alerted by the hoofbeats of his horse.
He swung down, catching Paquette in his arms as he touched the ground.
“Is she hurt?”
“I don’t know. She’s cold though.”
Jenny rushed back inside, calling over her shoulder. “Bring her in and I’ll tend her.”
He was hot on her heels. As she ran for a blanket, he dragged a chair out with his boot and deposited Paquette. She slumped forward.
Jenny returned and wrapped her warmly. She rubbed Paquette’s hands. “Are you hurt? Did you fall?”
Paquette stopped mumbling, slowly lifted her head and stared into Jenny’s eyes as if searching for answers.
Burke’s heart beat loudly against his chest. This was so unlike Paquette. The woman had fought for survival after being abandoned on the prairie. To see her so small and weak…
Paquette shook her head. “Not remember.”
“I’ll make some tea.” Burke filled the kettle and while he waited for it to boil, took out the teapot and tossed in a handful of tea leaves.
Paquette rocked and mumbled. Several times Jenny caught the blanket as it fell from Paquette’s shoulders and rewrapped her.
As soon as the water had any color, he poured a cup of tea and laced it with sugar. He knelt at Jenny’s side and held the cup to Paquette’s lips.
She stared at him, a look of such confusion in her eyes that he sat back, the tea momentarily forgotten. “Paquette, do you know where you are?”
She glanced around. “Dis not ’ome. My ’ome gone. Gone.”
He slanted a look at Jenny. Saw his worry reflected in her eyes. Paquette had lived here three years. This was her home. Yet she seemed to have retreated to an earlier time. “I wonder if she fell.”
“Do you hurt anywhere?”
Paquette blinked as if she didn’t understand.
Jenny gently ran her hands over Paquette, checking her limbs, feeling her scalp. “She seems uninjured.” She again knelt and faced Paquette, studying her face. “Do you know who we are?”
Paquette studied first one then the other. Burke felt as
if her gaze reached far into his heart and found nothing she could connect with.
“Maybe I see you afore.”
He remembered the cooling tea and held the cup to her lips, urging her to drink.
“I’ll help her into bed,” Jenny said. “Chances are she’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Right.”
He stepped outside and signaled the men then plunked to a chair and waited, listening to Jenny’s soothing tones. He stayed until Jenny returned. “How is she?”
“She seemed glad to see her bed. I’ll check her through the night just to make sure. What do you think happened?”
“She must have banged her head somehow.” It was an easier answer to swallow than to contemplate that she’d lost more than her way out on the prairie.
He rose and found two mugs. The tea was now strong enough to use as dye, and he poured in more water before he filled the cups and carried them to the table.
“Thanks.” To her credit she didn’t grimace when she tasted the strong brew. But perhaps she didn’t notice as she stared down the hall.
He was worried about Paquette, too. “She’s tough. Likely she’ll be fine by morning.”
Horses approached the yard. One by one the men stuck their head in the door to ask after Paquette. “She’s home safe and is sleeping,” Burke told each in turn.
When the last had made an appearance, he and Jenny continued to sit side by side.
“Tell me how you found her.”
“Almost didn’t. I was only a few feet from her, calling her name but she didn’t answer. Should have known then something was wrong with her.”
“God certainly guided you tonight.”
He’d forgotten his prayer. “Maybe He did. I thought we’d look all night without finding her so I—” He turned so he could see her better, observe her reaction. “I prayed. Sort of a doubters’ prayer but I asked for help and not more than a few minutes later, I found her.” He recalled the events, telling her every detail—how he’d gotten off the horse, seen the beads, noticed a flicker of movement. “Did God do that?”
She reached for his hand and squeezed. “You know He did, don’t you?”
With her warm touch and gentle smile he could believe anything. “Guess so.”
She chuckled. “I know it’s hard for you to admit you might need to change your mind, but I think you know as well as I that God guided you to her. I think if you allow yourself to believe, you’ll see Him at work in many areas of your life.”
“I guess God helps in emergencies.” He still couldn’t believe God cared about everyday, ordinary things.
“‘If then God so clothe the grass, which is to day in the field, and tomorrow is cast into the oven; how much more will he clothe you, O ye of little faith?’ How much more basic can we get than clothes and food?”
He recognized the Bible verse. Another his mother had quoted often. “Says nothing about food.”
She chuckled. “But if I remember correctly, it does in the verse before that. Another verse says He has the hairs of our head numbered. He cares about us. He loves us.”
His heart yearned to believe wholly and simply as he had as a child. But life wasn’t simple. Nor did it seem to be whole. “What about Lena dying? Did He care about that? Or Flora. Did He do anything about that?” His questions sounded soulful, as if he wanted everything to be fixed, put back to his ideal. It couldn’t be. A man simply had to make the best of things, roll with what life dealt.
She continued to hold his hand and without thinking what he did, he turned his palm to hers and inter-locked their fingers.
“I can’t explain why bad things happen,” she said. “Maybe I don’t want to. If I understood all the intricacies of life, the end from the beginning, the purpose of pain and suffering, why I think I’d be overwhelmed. I prefer to leave that in God’s hands. He is all-wise, all-knowing and all-love. I choose to simply trust Him.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“In some ways it is.”
He wanted to believe, yet at the same time wanted to challenge her because he was certain there were areas where she didn’t find trust any easier than he did. “Is it trust or fear that makes you let your father choose the direction of your life—pick your future husband?” He wanted her to confess it was fear and then choose to trust God enough to decide she needed and deserved a man who would honor her strengths. He wanted to be the one she chose, but even if she did that desire must be denied. As soon as Paquette felt better he would send her away—back to safety and sanity.
She twisted her hand away and wrapped her fingers together in her lap to sit with her head bowed. “It is obedience. God says we are to honor our parents. I have learned to my disgrace the result of not listening to their counsel.”
Another hint of having done something she regretted, something making her fearful of following her strong nature. “I don’t know what horrible thing you think you did. Maybe someday you’ll tell me.” It couldn’t be as bad as she thought. He captured a bit of hair that had escaped its bounds and played with it. “You are a strong–natured young woman who can boldly face risks and challenges. Yet you intend to pretend you are a docile woman content to follow the lead of your father and then, I suppose, this man you intend to marry. Jenny, I fear you will live a life of regret, always wishing you’d taken the riskier path, the one that led to adventure and—” He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say what was in his heart.
He released the bit of hair, curled his fingers over his thumbs and squeezed until his knuckles protested. She would not be at his side. He would not allow it. Far better to know she was safe with another man than to see her spirit slowly die right before his eyes.
Jenny kept her gaze on her hands twisting in her lap. She’d never tell him what happened. Never confess it to anyone. It would remain tucked into a corner of her thoughts. But the idea of being part of this great adventure warred with her determination. Her control was further threatened by the way his fingers brushed her neck as he played with a strand of her hair. Only once before had a man touched her. And that had been so unexpected she hadn’t known what to do. It had ended frighteningly. She shuddered at the memory and jerked to her feet. “I’d like to check on Paquette then go to bed, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded. “Sorry to be a bother.” He strode out without a backward look.
She hadn’t meant to sound rude or dismissive, but she knew the risks of forgetting her upbringing.
She had difficulty falling asleep as memories twisted through her head, intermingling with worry about Paquette and wishes for things she could never have. Three times she rose and checked on Paquette, who jerked her head up and grumbled at being disturbed.
The morning sun woke her, assisted by Meggie jabbing fingers in Jenny’s eyes.
Groaning, she sat up. She’d overslept. No sounds came from the kitchen. Was Paquette not up? She scrambled into her clothes, dressed Meggie hurriedly and let the child run ahead, her sore legs thankfully a thing of the past.
The kitchen echoed with quiet. “Wait here, Meg, while I check on Paquette.” She tiptoed to the bedroom. Paquette curled in a ball snoring softly. Poor woman was tired. She’d let her sleep.
That left her to make breakfast for them all. She rubbed her hands in glee. An adventure.
Meggie seemed to remember her sore legs and whined.
Jenny settled her on the floor and handed her some pots and pans to play with while she cooked. A few minutes later she banged the iron bar, smiling at how it had been secured with a piece of stout wire nailed into place with a six-inch spike. Burke wanted to make sure she didn’t send it flying in his direction again.
Her thoughts stuttered. She would miss all this when she left. She would miss the prairie, the big kitchen, ringing the bell…and Burke.
The men trooped in for breakfast.
“Where’s Paquette?” Burke asked. “She’s not—?”
“She’s sleeping peacefully. No need to dis
turb her.”
He took in the food she prepared. “You did this by yourself?”
“I did.” Satisfaction made her words strong and round.
“And enjoyed it, I venture to say.” His eyes spoke approval and something more—a silent challenge.
She nodded. “It was fun.”
“As life should be, don’t you think?”
His statement was reasonable enough, but she knew he referred to his argument of last night. He seemed to think she was running from things she would enjoy. Well, she was, knowing where such wild abandon, such reckless seeking after adventure led. Why had God made her thus? Or was it only temptation seeking to lead her into dangerous territory? Likely a bit of both, she thought.
His eyes narrowed and she realized she’d allowed him to see too much. He scooped Meggie off the floor and tickled her then put her beside him.
Jenny placed the heaping serving dishes on the table then sat in her customary place. She waited for someone to choose to say the grace, felt a flash of surprise when, without any prodding from the men, Burke announced he would.
He thanked the good Lord for Paquette’s safe return and for good food for their hunger. “And thank you Jenny is here, capable of making us a great meal. Amen.”
She couldn’t look up for fear he would see how his gratitude pleased her. She only did a job that needed doing. Yet it had been a challenge to get everything cooked and ready at the same time and in quantities large enough for the huge appetites of these men. She’d embraced the challenge. It had been fun.
She wouldn’t get to do such things when she returned home. No doubt Ted would hire a housekeeper when they got married. Jenny would be expected to entertain, perhaps be allowed to grow flowers, might occasionally help in the store, though she expected Ted shared Pa’s opinion that women belonged in the home. How she would manage to keep boredom at bay she couldn’t imagine, but Ma seemed to do so. She would likewise learn how.
But until then, she could enjoy this chance to expand her world.
The men left. Jenny did the dishes before Paquette staggered out, her clothes askew, half her hair hanging in her usual braid and the other half out as if she’d gotten sidetracked before she finished.
