by DiAnn Mills
*****
“Are you sure this is the best huntin’ spot?” Travis said. “I don’t mind a hearty walk, but on the way back, I plan to be totin’ a deer.”
Zack laughed. “These woods are full of them. Papa always brought down a good-sized deer. I’ll carry it back, unless we both bring one down.”
They’d tramped for a mile in dense woods and not seen a thing but an occasional scolding bird or squirrel. The path looked beaten down as though someone else had recently been hunting, so Zack must have been right about the area. Travis had no intentions of complaining, but the longer they walked, the heavier the rifle grew. Now he understood what Grant Andrews meant when he said that the only thing that kept him in good shape was regular trips to Morgan’s or Bonnie’s ranch. They walked farther into a low-lying area where black mud oozed up midway to their boots, but they could see deer prints.
“I do have a hankerin’ for fresh venison,” Travis said.
“I can almost smell it cooking. Juanita and Mama can make the best venison sausage. My mouth waters just thinking about it with a big mess of fried taters and jalapeño peppers.”
“I’ve never in my life seen anyone eat food as spicy hot as you.”
“Mama says that’s the Grandpa Andrews in me.”
“Still, it would set my stomach on fire.” Travis peered into the thick woods. “Two deer, you say?”
“We could smoke ’em and be set for a long time.”
“I was thinking about the hide, too.”
“Yeah, we’d have a fine time. Brother Travis, can I ask you a personal question?”
Travis let the request roll around in his head for a moment. “I reckon so. You already know more about me than anyone in this town.” Then he remembered Frank and Ellen Kahler. “Ellen Kahler grew up where I’m from, and she has a little of the story.”
“This is nothing about that.”
“All right. Ask me.”
“Do you like my mama?”
Travis thought he’d been doused with cold water. “She’s a godly woman, and I admire her determination to run the Morning Star and raise her children according to the Bible.”
“I mean, do you like her enough to marry up with her?”
He forced a laugh. “Whatever made you ask that?”
“Because she’s pretty, hasn’t a husband, and you’re not married.”
“Zack, two people are supposed to love each other to consider marriage. And look at me. I’m no prize. Besides, your mama is a beautiful woman.”
“Remember our Bible reading the other morning about God looking at the heart?”
Travis was snared and skinned. “Yes, I remember.”
“Your not wanting a haircut or shave has nothing to do with it. I’ve seen how you two look at each other. I’m not a man, and I don’t understand all the things that go with love, but I’m not blind.”
Out of the mouths of babes, Lord. “I sure hope you haven’t had this conversation with your mother.”
“She’d deny it too.” Zack stopped in the middle of the path and pointed. “We need to be quiet from here. Don’t want to scare them off. You can think on my question and answer me later.”
Amused, Travis nodded. They veered off the path and made their way through the woods. What a fine young man Zack was turning out to be, even if he was entirely too observant. Since the tornado, he’d been real company. Still, he hadn’t said a word about returning home. Maybe he thought the old Zack might take root again.
Travis reached out and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. They’d both seen a buck not thirty feet from them sporting a magnificent pair of antlers. “You take it,” he whispered. “I’ll get the next one.”
Grinning, Zack lifted the Springfield to his shoulder and braced himself for the recoil. He took aim, squeezed the trigger, and almost lost his balance. The buck startled then fell. With a whoop, Zack regained his balance, handed Travis his rifle, and rushed toward the downed deer. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. Not a muscle moved.
“Brother Travis.” His voice trembled, and not with the sound of a young man’s voice journeying into manhood.
“What’s wrong?”
“I see something awful over here. A body. It’s a woman, and I think she’s . . . dead.”
Travis’s heart pounded hard. He thrashed through the underbrush to Zack’s side. The boy pointed.
“Stay here while I take a look.” Travis recognized the color of her hair, and a moment later he recognized the face. Rosie. Her chest was stained red with blood. She’d been stabbed. He bent to her side. No one would hurt her again. She now lay in the arms of Jesus.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Miss Rosie.”
“Is she—”
“Yes, Zack. She’s dead.” Travis swallowed hard. “Son, I need you to head back to town for the sheriff. Tell him what happened. He’ll know what to do. You might want to fetch your grandpa and do whatever he asks of you.”
“Did Lester do this?”
“We can’t judge a man without proof.”
“Yes, sir. I’m real sorry. She treated me nice, and I liked to hear her singing in the choir. Yesterday she was ready to go to the sheriff.”
“We’ll talk later, Zack. Right now, we need to get a few things taken care of. I don’t know what good I can do here, but I feel like I should stay.”
Zack disappeared through the trees, and Travis sat beside the body and hoped he was wrong about who had killed this sweet young woman. Like Zack, he suspected Lester or one of the men he sent Rosie’s way, but Travis had no proof, and blaming an innocent man was a terrible sin. From all apparent signs, all Rosie ever wanted was a chance to live for Jesus. Vengeance stirred inside him, hot and mean. God would handle the matter—he understood that, but it didn’t stop the fury of injustice.
Fear seized him and caused him to tremble. If Lester had killed Rosie, no doubt she’d refused to give in to his demands about something. Laura. Daisy. Bonnie. They weren’t safe, either. And what of Zack? Travis rubbed his face and began to pray more fervently than when he thought Zack was missing.
He glanced at the deer not far from Rosie’s face and the rifle leaning across its body. Death held God’s creatures in an inescapable snare. He stared into the young woman’s face. His attention moved to her red-stained chest. From the size of the hole, the knife had been fairly large, and there were no telltale signs of burnt fabric like a bullet hole would cause. He stood and studied the ground. Two sets of footprints caught his attention: Rosie’s and a set of man’s boots. She had walked to her death.
Dear Lord, will this ever end? He shook his head and wept. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
*****
Bonnie and Lydia Anne walked through the horse barn after a good ride earlier in the morning. Today Bonnie stood her daughter on a stool and showed her how to brush down a horse after a ride. How she cherished this time with Lydia Anne. After school, she and Michael Paul often spent special time together too. Although he enjoyed riding and learning about the ranch, he preferred music and books. His interests pleased Bonnie. She wanted her children to grow up with a wide range of possibilities for their lives. With Zack, she had no idea where his future might take him. He loved the outdoors like his father, but he’d been concentrating on his studies, too.
“Mama, Brother Travis and Zack are here,” Lydia Anne said. “And so are Uncle Morgan and Uncle Grant.”
Bonnie waved to the group, but the solemn looks on their faces worried her. Surely Mama and the reverend were all right. They were in good health and hadn’t been complaining about anything. The men dismounted, and after a few greetings, Bonnie sent Lydia Anne to tell Juanita about the guests.
“Go ahead, Brother Travis,” Morgan said.
Her attention flew to the man. He stepped closer, his eyes filled with sadness. “While Zack and I were hunting this morning, we found Rosie’s body.”
Bonnie covered her mouth. “She’s dead?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m real sorry.”
Her gaze whirled to Zack. Horror gripped her. “You were there?”
Zack stepped forward and embraced her. “I saw Miss Rosie first. But Brother Travis stayed with her while I fetched the sheriff.”
She studied his face, her brothers, and Travis. “What happened?”
“Mama, she was stabbed.”
“Do you know who did this?”
Morgan cleared his throat. “We have no idea.”
“What about Laura and Daisy?” Bonnie’s stomach churned.
“They’re very upset. Sylvia came right away to be with them.” Morgan swung his glance to Grant. “Jenny and Grant thought the other two women should stay with them for a few days.”
“I have a deputy at my house while I’m gone. Frankly, I don’t think my wife is safe, either,” Grant said. “And we think someone needs to stay with you. Is there a way Thomas could move into the main house until this is settled?”
Shaken, Bonnie struggled to keep her wits about her. “I suppose so. Why?” Then it hit her hard. They suspected Lester.
Zack wrapped his arm around her waist. “Mama, I have to tell you what happened yesterday—before this happened to Miss Rosie.”
She tried her best to concentrate on what he had to say while he told her of convincing Rosie and Laura to go to the sheriff about Lester’s activities.
“Do all of you think Lester killed Rosie?” Her head pounded—not with pain but with a numbness as though her spirit refused to accept the truth.
“There’s no proof,” Morgan said. “Sylvia was real quick to say that Lester and she were together last evening.”
Bonnie had her own opinion about Sylvia possibly covering up for her husband. “I assume Laura and Daisy now refuse to go to the sheriff.”
“Mama, I asked them, but they’re scared,” Zack said.
“Are you all telling me that whoever did this will get away with it?” She blinked back the tears until later—later when she could grieve in private.
“It’s too soon to reach a hasty conclusion,” Morgan said. “What’s important to us is that our womenfolk are protected.”
She nodded, doing her best to digest every word without succumbing to tears. “Of course, and I’ll speak with Thomas right away.”
“Do you want me to come home to protect you?” Zack said.
As much as Bonnie had longed to hear those words, she also understood her son faced danger, and he didn’t need the responsibility of defending his family in the event of danger. “I want you in Kahlerville with Brother Travis. Thomas can look out for us here.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, I’ll come home. I can use a rifle.”
For a moment she nearly relinquished, but if Lester came calling . . .
No, she refused to think about what the man might do.
Long after they left and she’d spoken to Thomas about staying in Zack’s room for a while, Bonnie sat in the kitchen and remembered all the special things about Rosie. Her life had been hard. When her parents died, she took to prostitution rather than starve—a hard lot for many to understand. She’d been at Martha’s brothel before it burned, along with Laura and Daisy. The reverend and Mama had taken them in, and the three lived at the parsonage until Jenny and Grant built Heaven’s Gate and Sylvia offered to work with the young women. They were young—none of them twenty years old—but years of pain were etched into their eyes. They’d begun this life at fourteen and fifteen while most girls their age sat under the guidance of their mothers.
Repeatedly, each of the young women stated how much they loved Jesus, but they felt unworthy of His blessings or the gift of life. All claimed to want to leave Kahlerville. Now Rosie’s wish had come true. No painful memories or physical abuse would ever plague her.
Tears slipped from Bonnie’s eyes, and she swiped them away. In the confines of her bedroom, she’d weep but not where Michael Paul or Lydia Anne might see. They’d watched her shed too many tears. A hand lightly touched her shoulder.
“Miss Bonnie, the children are outside. You can cry.”
Bonnie reached up to grasp Juanita’s hand. “Thank you. Rosie was so young and beautiful. She had years of life ahead of her, and now she’s gone.”
“It’s always sad when young people die.”
“She gave her life to a ruthless man who had no respect for the living.” Bonnie’s words spouted venom, and she did nothing to conceal it.
“Sheriff Arthur will find him.”
“I pray you’re right.” She glanced up into Juanita’s face. “Thomas will be staying in Zack’s room until this is over.”
Juanita nodded. “He told me. I feel better that he’s close by.” Her eyes clouded.
“I’m afraid I suspect someone.”
“We think the same, Miss Bonnie.”
Chapter 30
“Sylvia says Lester was with her on Friday night, which means he couldn’t have killed Rosie.” Morgan massaged neck muscles, then peered up at Travis. They’d been talking in the lawyer’s office for better than an hour. “But that doesn’t mean he was ignorant about it, and it doesn’t mean Sylvia wouldn’t lie to cover for him.”
Travis waited a moment to compose himself. Frustration had his head in a whirl. “How do we find out the truth?”
“The same way we tried before—Laura and Daisy.”
“That’s like milking a bull.” Travis thought twice about his words being fittin’ for a preacher, but too late. He released a heavy sigh. “Rosie’s murder had me awake all night—frettin’ over the others at Heaven’s Gate, Bonnie, Jenny, and anyone else who’s gotten in Lester’s way.”
Morgan leaned in closer. “I talked to Frank and Ellen to see if they’d convince Laura and Daisy to speak up, but Frank doesn’t want Ellen involved. A couple of years ago, Ellen nearly died when a madman attacked her. It was right after the two were married, and Frank’s been real protective ever since. But he did promise that he’d talk to them apart from Ellen.”
“Can’t blame him.” A picture of Bonnie entered his mind.
“I imagine you feel the same way about my sister.”
Travis’s eyes widened. “Not sure I understand.”
“No point denying what the rest of us already see, Brother Travis.”
Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. “I wouldn’t want her to know, and I promise to do better in hiding my feelings.”
“Why? Bonnie has a sparkle in her eyes that’s been gone for a long time. We’re glad. Real glad. You’ve done a miracle with Zack and my sister. Michael Paul and Lydia Anne are happy. I’m obliged.”
Travis grappled with each word. Morgan had no idea about his past, and if the man did, he’d run him out of town with his rear full of buckshot.
“You’re pale, at least what I can see of you.” Amusement spread over Morgan’s face. Travis recalled his own brothers teasing him when he was younger. Morgan wagged a finger at him. “Maybe you need to have a come-to-Jesus meetin’ about Bonnie.”
“I’d never be good enough for your sister.” Travis leaned back in his chair. Talking about her made him hot and cold all over—even weepy like a lovesick schoolboy. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and her heart is pure gold.”
Morgan chuckled. “You have it real bad. I won’t go into all of her faults. You’ll find them out soon enough once you’re married.”
A
preacher seldom groped for words, and Travis always thought he could think as fast as a cat could land on its feet. But not when it came to Bonnie Kahler. His mind had just frozen like a creek in winter, and he couldn’t find any thin ice.
“No need to ask me or Grant if we approve. We’ve already decided you and Bonnie should get married as soon as possible.”
Had the whole family been talking about them?
“Now that I’ve embarrassed you and had a good laugh, let’s get back to the business of proving Lester is behind Rosie’s murder.” Morgan’s countenance changed to one of concern as he spoke.
“Seems to me that if we could figure out why he says and does things, then we could understand how he thinks.”
“As I’ve said before, you’d make a good lawyer. I’ve been thinking.” Morgan paused. “I know a man who owes me a favor. Having him follow Lester around makes sense. One of these days, he’s going to get so sure of himself that he slips. And I want to be there to make sure he’s behind bars for a long time.”
“I’m glad Sheriff Arthur appointed a deputy to protect Laura and Daisy. I’m hoping Lester doesn’t know about it.”
“Talked to the sheriff last night about that very thing, and he agreed. Although, like so many folks in this town, he believes Lester can do no wrong because he gives money to the church.”
*****
Bonnie sorted through the leather trunk of Christmas ornaments and decorations. The nativity set that Ben had given her for their first Christmas—the one carved by his great-grandfather from Germany—lay on the top. As she carefully examined each piece wrapped in scraps of old fabric, memories of Ben and the lovely Christmases spent with family flowed gently over her cheeks. Unlike last Christmas, when she despaired until crawling into bed for two days, the tears today became a healing balm. At last she was able to put the past in proper perspective. She’d proven her mettle and made more progress as each day passed. Ben had given her the gift of love and three precious children. Forever she’d love him, yet to continue living in grief was wrong—and selfish. She dreamed about the future and whoever God put in her life. The fear of giving her heart again sometimes gripped her, but God understood her turmoil, and He promised to walk with her until she met Him face to face.
