But would that be enough?
Over the next week, it seemed as if Lucy stumbled across Walter every time she turned around.
On Sunday, he sat across the aisle from her at church and sent meaningful glances her way during the sermon.
On Monday, she spotted him coming out of Claasen’s General Store just in time for her to beat a hasty retreat down a nearby alleyway.
On Tuesday, she spied him loitering across the street when she and Dottie emerged from the dressmaker’s shop.
Was God trying to tell her something?
When Dottie’s mother tapped on Lucy’s bedroom door on Wednesday afternoon and said she had a visitor, Lucy felt almost resigned to her fate. She checked her appearance in the oval mirror and descended the staircase, feeling a bit like a French aristocrat walking to the tumbrel.
To her surprise, Pastor Eldridge awaited her in the parlor.
“I’m here on a mission of mercy.” He smiled. “Shall we sit down?”
Mystified by his cryptic statement, Lucy gestured to a wingback chair and settled herself on the settee opposite.
Pastor Eldridge folded his hands and peered at her over his pince-nez. “It has come to my attention that you are in a rather desperate situation. I want you to know you’re in my prayers. . . . Although, I must say I’m a bit saddened that you didn’t confide in me about your plight.”
Lucy’s eyes widened. Pastor Eldridge knew all about her dire financial straits. What else could he mean, unless . . .
“Walter came to see me yesterday and asked me to talk to you. He wanted me to help plead his case.”
“He didn’t!” Lucy gasped and half rose from the settee.
The pastor waved her back to her seat. “Don’t worry. As your pastor—and friend—I don’t believe it would be in your best interests to be joined to Walter in matrimony. Unless, of course, that is where your inclination lies?”
“Heavens, no!” The words blurted from Lucy’s lips before she could stop them, and she felt her face flame. “That is . . .”
Pastor Eldridge shook his head. “Say no more. I’ve known Walter since he was barely out of knee breeches. I understand your feelings completely.”
“Oh.” So maybe God wasn’t trying to coerce her into an unwanted match?
“That being the case . . .” Pastor Eldridge reached into his coat pocket and drew out an envelope. “Walter wasn’t my only visitor this week. I was asked to deliver this to you.” He tapped the envelope on his knee, then handed it to Lucy. “This just might be the answer to your prayers.”
Thoroughly baffled, she took the sealed envelope. Without pausing to find a letter opener, she wedged her finger under the flap and tore it open. A single sheet of paper lay inside. When she drew it out and unfolded it, a slip of cardboard fluttered into her lap. Lucy picked up the small rectangle and gave it a quick glance. “A train ticket?”
Her pastor nodded. “Read the note.”
Lucy smoothed the paper and began to read:
Andrew Simms of North Fork, Texas, is looking for a companion for his widowed aunt, Martha, whose dearest wish is to remain on the ranch she owned with her late husband. Andrew is concerned for her welfare, but he can’t be at the ranch all the time. Finding someone trustworthy to stay at the Diamond S with his aunt would relieve Mr. Simms’s concerns for her welfare. If you choose to accept this position, you would be helping not only yourself, but this dear saint who would love to finish out her years in the place that holds so many happy memories for her.
Lucy took her time folding the paper, pressing the creases into sharp lines while thoughts tumbled through her mind. She looked back at Pastor Eldridge. “Where did this come from?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.” He answered Lucy’s incredulous look with a rueful smile. “I realize that sounds odd. I do know where the note came from, but I promised not to reveal the identity of the person who wrote it.”
Lucy pressed her hand to her throat and tried to slow her racing heart. A ticket. The promise of a job—one far away from Walter’s unrelenting pursuit. “It sounds like an answer to prayer.”
Then common sense asserted itself. “It also sounds too good to be true. How could I accept this offer without knowing anything about it? It would be like buying a pig in a poke.”
Pastor Eldridge tented his fingers. “I understand this puts you in an unusual position. While I’m bound to keep the writer’s name a secret, I can tell you I have the utmost confidence in this person’s integrity. In addition, I made inquiries of my own, and I can assure you that Andrew Simms is a respected member of his community, and his need for a companion for his aunt is genuine.”
He leaned forward. “You’ve been a member of my flock since you were a little girl, and I’ve watched you grow into a young woman any parent would be proud of. I would never advise you to do anything I thought might endanger you. I can’t say this will solve all your problems, but I think it may be a wise course of action—for the time being, at least.”
Lucy studied him gravely. Could it be? Was it possible to receive an answer to prayer right out of the blue? Skepticism colored her voice when she spoke. “Why did you bring this offer to me? You mentioned a ‘mission of mercy.’ Do people see me as some sort of charity case?”
The pastor settled back in the chair and shook his head. “I don’t believe it stems from pity. Think of it as a means of gaining time to find out what God really does have in mind for you.”
She picked up the ticket again. “North Fork,” she whispered, then felt a flutter of panic. “I don’t even know where that is! And what does Mr. Simms think of this arrangement? He doesn’t know a thing about me.”
Pastor Eldridge sat forward again. “North Fork is east of Amarillo, only a couple hours from there by train. According to the writer of this note, Mr. Simms has already heard about you and agreed to take you on. Once you agree to accept the job, he will be alerted to meet you upon your arrival.” His eyes glinted behind his spectacles. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”
Lucy looked back at the ticket and traced the lettering with her fingertip. “I’ve been asking God to show me what to do, but I never expected anything like this.”
“You mean having your prayers answered in an unexpected way?” Pastor Eldridge chuckled. “God is in the business of taking care of His own, you know. And think of it this way—you’ll have an opportunity to be the answer to someone else’s prayer, as well.”
Lucy caught her breath and let it out on a soft sigh as a long-forgotten peace settled over her. God still cared, was still watching over her. Not only that, but she could be a blessing to somebody else. Joy bubbled up inside her while she calculated how long it would take to pack her trunk and say good-bye to Dottie and the ladies of the sewing circle.
Lifting her head, she returned Pastor Eldridge’s smile. “Please give the author of this note my deepest thanks and let Mr. Simms know to expect me on Friday.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you bringing me all the way to Amarillo.” Lucy smiled at Pastor Eldridge and his wife as the three of them alighted from the Eldridges’ buckboard in front of the Amarillo train depot. She glanced off to the southwest, where a haze of rain laced the sky in the direction of Dry Gulch. “I hope that storm moves past quickly so you don’t get soaked on your way back home.”
The pastor’s wife clasped Lucy’s hands. “Don’t you worry about that, dear. It was our pleasure to bring you, and it’s a blessing to know you have a chance for a new start in life.”
Lucy smiled and nodded, wondering for the hundredth time about her anonymous benefactor. Try as she might, she couldn’t think of anyone who could have set all this in motion. Pastor Eldridge remained true to his word about keeping the note writer’s identity a secret. She might never know who orchestrated the events that led to her leaving Dry Gulch, but she did know that God was in control. Perhaps she would simply have to thank Him for His provision.
Her one regret wou
ld be missing Dottie’s wedding, but her friend had taken Lucy’s sudden change in plans with grace . . . and a show of excitement. “What an adventure!” she exclaimed when Lucy outlined the opportunity Pastor Eldridge presented. “Maybe you’ll meet some handsome rancher and fall in love yourself. And if not, at least you’ll be away from Walter.”
Pastor Eldridge lifted Lucy’s carpetbag from the rear of the wagon and motioned to a porter to see to her trunk. “Now all that’s left is to get you settled on—” He broke off, staring at a point over Lucy’s right shoulder. “Oh no.”
Lucy whirled around to see a gangly figure loping along the platform. Her mouth dropped open. “Walter? You followed me all the way to Amarillo?”
Her would-be suitor raced up to them, his skinny chest heaving. “I couldn’t believe it when my father told me he saw you leaving town with your bags packed. What do you think you’re doing?”
Mrs. Eldridge moved closer to Lucy. Her husband stepped forward, putting himself in Walter’s path. “Calm down, son.”
Walter evaded the pastor with a neat sidestep. His face took on a stony hardness. “How can you think of leaving Dry Gulch . . . leaving me? We are meant to be together.”
A cry of “All aboard!” cut through the end of his plea.
Pastor Eldridge gripped Walter by the shoulder in a fatherly manner and turned him in the opposite direction. “Why don’t we step over here and talk for a moment. It seems God may be leading Lucy in a different direction than the one you have in mind.” He glanced at the two women and jerked his head toward the waiting train.
Mrs. Eldridge tugged on Lucy’s arm and led her to the passenger car.
Lucy felt a flutter of panic. “What if he follows me again?”
“Don’t worry about that. This train goes all the way to Fort Worth. He’ll have no way of knowing where you get off.” The pastor’s wife gave Lucy a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “Let my husband deal with Walter. All you need to do is get on board.”
She nudged Lucy toward the step. “Remember what Paul said in his letter to the Philippians: ‘Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before.’ Let that be your watchword as you begin your grand adventure.”
Lucy said good-bye through a mist of tears and found her way to a seat. She had barely settled herself before the train jerked and started to move. She watched the door of the car until the depot was out of sight, half expecting Walter to leap inside at the last possible moment, but Pastor Eldridge apparently had taken control of the situation.
She leaned back against the seat and breathed a quick prayer of thanks. Her journey—her grand adventure, as Mrs. Eldridge put it—had begun.
“Forgetting those things which are behind . . .” Mrs. Eldridge’s parting words echoed in her mind. That would include not only her narrow escape from Walter, but her entire life up to this point.
And what was it that lay ahead? A new life as companion to a lonely widow. Lucy envisioned the two of them chatting about patterns and needlework as they sipped tea together, or holding a skein of yarn while the dear woman rolled it into a ball before beginning her next knitting project.
She swallowed hard. Tea and needlework were well and good, but what else would there be to occupy her time in an isolated ranch house with no near neighbors? Looking back through the window, she watched Amarillo fade into the distance and felt a pang of apprehension. Had she just made the mistake of a lifetime?
The image of Walter’s angry face sprang into her mind, and she pushed her fears away. Even if the days ahead bordered on mind-numbing tedium, that would still be better than a life as Walter Harris’s wife.
Chapter 2
NORTH FORK, TEXAS
Andrew Simms scanned the horizon as he paced the boardwalk in front of the North Fork depot. The sight of trailing smoke as the train came up out of the Red River Valley brought him to an abrupt stop.
What had he been thinking? When he’d written to an old friend in Dry Gulch asking for prayer about Aunt Martha’s situation, he’d never expected an immediate response suggesting Miss Lucy Benson as the perfect solution. Had he been out of his mind, agreeing to have a stranger take up residence on the ranch?
The train rumbled into the station, and Andrew stepped back to avoid the plume of steam that hissed from beneath the wheels.
What kind of person would volunteer to take on the task of watching over his unpredictable aunt, sight unseen? He hoped she would be intelligent and congenial. It had been hard enough to sell Aunt Martha on the idea of having a companion foisted upon her. Showing up at her door with someone she found unacceptable would only make matters worse.
The conductor leaped from the car to the platform and set a small wooden box at the bottom of the steps. Andrew’s stomach knotted, and he ran his finger around his collar as if the action would help him breathe easier. It didn’t.
The first passenger to alight was a young woman Andrew guessed to be a few years his junior. She smiled her thanks as she took hold of the conductor’s proffered hand and stepped down to the platform, where she smoothed the skirt of her blue dress and adjusted her flowered hat. She looked around, as if she expected someone to be waiting for her.
Andrew glanced behind him and frowned when he saw he was alone. The new arrival wasn’t anyone he recognized from the North Fork area. Why hadn’t someone come to welcome her?
She looked his way with a questioning expression. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Andrew shifted his gaze back to the passenger car, waiting for Lucy Benson to alight. To his surprise, the conductor picked up the wooden box and jumped back on board. A moment later the train gave a lurch and chugged away.
“Wait!” Andrew stepped forward with one hand raised and realized the newly arrived young lady was standing at his elbow.
“Mr. Simms?”
“What?” Andrew stared into her wide blue eyes, an impossible idea forming in his mind. No, it couldn’t be. In his wildest imaginings, he couldn’t picture this refined creature in a setting like the Diamond S.
“Miss Benson?” His voice came out in a dry croak.
A smile wreathed her delicate face, and she extended her right hand. “That’s right. I can’t tell you what a godsend this opportunity is.”
Andrew shook the hand she offered, and continued to stare. So this was Lucy Benson, the woman who was going to ride herd on his cantankerous aunt. Dear heaven.
Lucy gripped the seat of the buckboard as it jounced along the dusty road—up one gentle swell of land and down another. A weary sigh escaped her lips despite her best efforts to hold it in. First the train ride from Amarillo, now this jarring trail, barely more than a track through the sagebrush. She felt more than ready for her interminable journey to end.
She cast a sideways glance at Andrew Simms. His dumbfounded expression when she introduced herself announced more clearly than words that she wasn’t what he’d been expecting. But how could that be, given that he’d agreed to the arrangement orchestrated by the anonymous letter writer?
She glanced down at her gloved hands, clasped on the skirt of her royal blue traveling dress, and wondered what he’d expected. A sturdy farm girl, perhaps? One who could rope and brand cattle or cook for a crew during roundup? Surely not. The job offering hadn’t mentioned anything of the kind, only serving as a companion to his much-loved aunt.
Looking up again, she saw that his attention seemed focused on guiding the horses and took the opportunity to examine him more thoroughly. His appearance was pleasing enough, but outward features didn’t always give a clue to the character that lay within. What kind of man would her new employer turn out to be? Lucy shifted on the seat, uncomfortably aware that they were miles from the nearest town or dwelling. Right now, Andrew Simms was the only person on earth who knew where she was. The thought left her feeling vulnerable, and a bit nervous.
The moment she read the letter describing her new position, a mental image of Martha Simms had formed
in Lucy’s mind—a gentle white-haired soul who passed her days in a rocking chair, lost in happy memories of the past. A picture of her nephew had come less readily. His concern for his aunt’s welfare put him in a positive light. Underneath his taciturn exterior, he must have a good heart, though his gruff manner upon their meeting hid it well. He’d barely said a word since asking if she wanted to stop for lunch in town. At that point, her taut nerves had driven thoughts of hunger from her mind, but now she felt her stomach rumble.
“How much farther is it to the ranch?”
Andrew started as though he’d forgotten her presence. “Another thirty minutes or so.” He shook the reins, urging the horses to pick up their pace as though he felt every bit as eager as she to see this uncomfortable ride come to an end.
Thirty minutes. Lucy sighed and dug in her carpetbag. Rummaging through its contents, she pulled out two apples and held them up. “Would you like one?”
Andrew glanced at the fruit in her hand, and the lines in his forehead deepened. “Thank you. I should have insisted on getting you a meal in town before we started. You had no way of knowing how long the drive would be.” He accepted one of the apples and took a bite.
“I’m not famished. I just thought it would be nice to have a little snack.” Lucy bit into the crisp apple and savored the juicy tartness. With the ice thus broken, she plunged ahead. “Tell me about your aunt. I’d like to know more about what’s expected of me.”
Andrew chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to look at her full on for the first time since helping her into his buckboard. She felt a flush rise up her neck under the impact of his gaze, and she studied his face more closely. When he wasn’t gaping like a poleaxed steer or driving along in moody silence, he was rather nice looking. With wavy chestnut hair framing chiseled features and a tanned complexion that spoke of long days spent outdoors, he could easily fit the role of the handsome rancher Dottie had teased her about. His lips were firm, but not clamped tight like Walter’s when he was displeased with her. A crease marked his cheek just beyond the right corner of his mouth. Lucy wondered if it deepened into a dimple when he smiled. Her eyes moved a few inches lower and focused on the cleft in his chin. The indentation would just fit the tip of her finger, if she pressed it there.
A Match Made in Texas Page 17
