by Mercy Levy
Sarah watched Ben turn and hurry away. “Please don't let my trust in you be foolish,” she whispered.
Ben quickly hurried into the dress shop. Feeling awkward and out of place, he spotted a Mrs. Mayfield standing behind the front counter examining a box of new dress material. Closing the door, he eased forward into a room filled with dresses sitting under the heavy scent of pine. “Why, Mr. Weathers,” Mrs. Mayfield exclaimed, “what brings you into my humble little store?”
Ben stopped walking. He looked at Mrs. Mayfield. The woman was large, but kind; firm but caring. His own mother had been very good friends with the woman. “I need...a coat...a woman's coat...that is.”
“For the little lady you were standing outside my store talking to a few minutes ago, I suspect,” Mrs. Mayfield beamed. Checking over the dark blue dress she was wearing in order to appear proper, she walked out from behind the front counter. “I should say her size is petite. She is a small creature.”
“Sure...I guess,” Ben agreed. Looking around at all the dress, he desperately tried to spot a coat. “Do you have any coats?”
“I do, so relax your boots,” Mrs. Mayfield teased Ben and rushed away into a back room. A minute later she appeared with a thick pink coat. “I think this will do the little lady just fine.”
Ben examined the coat. “Yeah...it just might do,” he said agreeing with Mrs. Mayfield. “How much?”
Mrs. Mayfield pulled the coat away from Ben. “I don't want money. I want answers. Who is she and what is to you? I promised your mother that I would keep an eye out on you and Greg. Greg isn't with us anymore, may he rest in peace...the poor, troubled, soul. I pray they bring the man who murdered him to justice and hang him from a very long rope.”
Ben bit down on his lower lip. “Mrs. Mayfield, we both know my brother was no good and--”
“Watch your mouth,” Mrs. Mayfield insisted. “Your mother was a blessed woman and gave birth to good men. Greg...strayed off the path at times, but he was a good man.”
“Was he?” Ben asked honestly. “I'll bring in the man who killed my brother because I made a promise to my mother to do so. But I'm not going to lie to myself, Mrs. Mayfield, and neither should you. Now, how much for the coat?”
Mrs. Mayfield stared into Ben's eyes. She sighed sadly. “Who is the woman?” she asked loosing steam.
“The sister of the man who killed my brother. She has come to prove his innocence. She sold her own coat to earn enough money to purchase her fare west,” Ben answered. “She is down at the General Store right now trying to buy food with the money she has left which is very little. Mrs. Mayfield, I know you are loyal to my mother, but she would not turn away anyone in need.”
Mrs. Mayfield handed Ben the coat. “I'll be along shortly. You hurry, now, and don't argue.”
Ben began to speak but Mrs. Mayfield pushed him out of her store.
Stepping out into a chilly wind, Ben hurried to the General Store. He found Sarah standing at a shelf nailed to the right wall examining a can of peas. The General Store was empty except for Mr. Green, who was busy at the front counter unpacking can goods. Ben liked the General Store. He liked how the smell of coffee and sugar mingled in the air like old friends. He liked how the shelves were neatly lined with can goods, clothes, supplies and other merchandise that appeared pleasant to the eye. He could tell Sarah also liked the General Store from her relaxed body posture. “Sarah?”
Sarah turned from the shelf. When she spotted can holding a lovely pink coat, she nearly began crying. “Is...that for me?” she asked in a soft whisper.
Ben nodded his head. Stepping forward, he helped Sarah put the coat on. “Now, that should keep you warm.”
A tear fell from Sarah's glowing eye and rolled down her tender cheek. “Oh, it's so very lovely...but why?” she asked.
“Love without faith,” Ben smiled and wiped Sarah's tear away. “Listen, I've been thinking about everything...well, mostly about my brother. I went and had a talk with Sheriff Duffy and asked him why he was so quick to think your brother was guilty. You see, everyone knows how my brother was.”
“What did the Sheriff reply?” Sarah asked worriedly.
Ben spotted Mr. Green raise an ear. “Sheriff Duffy,” Ben explained, “is a hard man. Before coming to this town, he worked as a lawman in a town where a man would kill another man over a spilled drink of whiskey.”
“I'm afraid I do not understand?” Sarah confessed.
Ben glanced at Mr. Green who lowered his ear and went back to work. “Sheriff Duffy knew my father,” Ben explained. “My guess is he's being loyal to an old friend because he wouldn't tell me why he was so quick to condemn your brother based off the words of two local drunks.”
Sarah slowly nodded her head. “I believe I understand, now,” she told Ben. “
“I admit I allowed my anger to ride my shoulder,” Ben told Sarah. “But you're clearing my mind, Sarah. A woman like yourself would not travel this far is she thought her brother was guilty of murder. Your eyes are honest.”
Before Sarah could answer, Mrs. Mayfield burst through the front door. She marched right up to Sarah. “Young lady,” she said, “you will come home with me. I have to put some meat on your bones.”
Confused and shocked, Sarah stared at Mrs. Mayfield. “Who...are you?” she asked scared.
“My name is Mrs. Mayfield and I'm an old friend of Mr. Weather's mother,” Mrs. Mayfield explained. “I understand you are in our fair little town to prove that your brother didn't murder Greg Weather's in cold blood?”
“My brother would have killed defending his life,” Sarah promised Mrs. Mayfield.
“What is the accent?” Mrs. Mayfield asked.
“We are Jewish immigrants from Germany,” Sarah explained.
Mrs. Mayfield gasped. “Jewish?”
Sarah drew in a deep breath. “Yes, mam.”
“Oh my...dear, my mother's side of the family is Jewish,” Mrs. Mayfield told Sarah. “Shalom?”
“Shalom!” Sarah laughed joyfully. Unable to contain herself, she ran and hugged Mrs. Mayfield. “Shalom...oh yes, Shalom.”
Mrs. Mayfield laughed. “Oh my, what a day this is.”
Ben folded his arms and smiled. For a minute he forgot all about his promise to hunt down Sarah's brother.
*
Sitting in a warm kitchen, Sarah listened to a cold wind howl outside as Mrs. Mayfield placed a full plate of steak, potatoes, and beans down in front of her. “Eat, dear,” Mrs. Mayfield patted Sarah's shoulder with loving hands.
Sitting across from Sarah, Ben looked down at his own plate of food and then raised his eyes back up to Sarah. He saw that the woman was content and happy to be in a warm kitchen created by a woman whose heart held kindness and compassion. “So much food,” Sarah said, “I am not sure my stomach can contain so much food at one time.”
Mrs. Mayfield hurried back to the table with a loaf of freshly baked bread sitting on a white plate. Sitting the bread down, she hurried away and brought back fresh coffee. After pouring the coffee into three white coffee cups, she sat down next to Ben and bowed her head. “Let us pray.”
Sarah and Ben bowed their heads. They listened to Mrs. Mayfield give thanks to the Lord above for their food. “Amen,” Sarah whispered.
“Where is Mr. Mayfield tonight?” Ben asked taking a bite of his steak.
“Still in Virginia City, I'm afraid,” Mrs. Mayfield explained. “His horse through him off and hurt his back. The doctor in Virginia City said my Stephen will be able to get back on his horse in another week or so.” Mrs. Mayfield turned her attention to Sarah. “Now, dear, what makes you think you're even going to find Joel?”
Sarah nibbled on a bit of potato. “Joel is my twin. I can sense when he is near,” she explained. “May I have some bread, please?”
“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Mayfield said and cut Sarah a slice of bread off from the loaf.
Sarah accepted the bread with grateful hands. After taking a bite of the bread, s
he focused her eyes on Ben. Ben was staring at her. When Ben saw Sarah catch him staring, he quickly looked down at his plate. “What will you do when I find my brother?”
Ben poked at the food on his plate with a fork. “Take him into Sheriff Duffy,” he answered.
Mrs. Mayfield shook her head no. “That old coot is set against Joel,” she told Ben. “You and I both know he was a faithful friend to your father. It doesn't matter if Joel is innocent or guilty, Duffy will make him appear guilty in a court of law.”
“Judge Wilshire will be in town two days from now. He's a fair man,” Ben said as a strong gust of wind hit the kitchen window.
Sarah turned and looked at the kitchen window and focused on the dark, cold, night outside. “Hanukkah is so close,” she whispered. “Oh Joel, we must not spend Hanukkah apart.”
“Now dear,” Mrs. Mayfield said and patted Sarah's hands, “everything will be alright, you just wait and see.”
“What is...Hanukkah?” Ben asked Sarah.
“A night when we light our Menorah to remember the miracle of the oil in the Temple,” Sarah explained as she continued to stare into the dark night outside. “A time when we dedicate our own Temple...our own heart...back to God and allow Him to light our souls with His Light.”
“Jesus said He is the Light of the World,” Ben told Sarah wondering how to speak about Christian beliefs to a Jewish woman.
“Some Jews believe in Yeshua Ben-Yosef as the Messiah and some Jews do not,” Sarah answered Ben. “I believe Yeshua Ben-Yosef is the Messiah, yes. I came to this conclusion after reading Isaiah Chapter 52. All the prophecies directed me to Yeshua Ben-Yosef.”
Ben sat stunned. Once again, Sarah's soft-spoken wisdom cleared a straight path for him to connect with her on. Mrs. Mayfield beamed. “More coffee, Ben?”
“Uh...sure,” Ben said unable to take his eyes off Sarah's glowing face. At that moment, he realized that the lovely woman was capturing his heart.
“Oh Joel...where are you?” Sarah whispered in a desperate voice. “We promised each other that we would never be apart at Hanukkah time.”
Before anyone could speak, a hard fist hit the back door. Ben stood up and snatched out his gun. Raising a finger into the air, he motioned for Sarah and Mrs. Mayfield to remain quiet. Easing across the kitchen, he made his way to the back door. “Who's there?” he called out.
“James Ingles,” an angry, drunk, voice yelled.
“James Ingles,” Mrs. Mayfield said standing up. “He was with Greg the day the stabbing...” she paused and looked at Sarah.
“Open the door before I kick it down. I know that killer's sister is in there. I have something to say to her,” James roared and hit the back door with his fist again.
Ben yanked the back door open and threw his gun into the face of a large man wearing a dirty black beard sitting under red, drunken, eyes. “Hey...what is this...” James yelled and began backing away from Ben. Throwing his hands up in the air he began declaring that he was unarmed.
“No,” Sarah begged rushing to the back door. “Please, Ben, let this man inside. If he wishes to speak to me, he can do so peacefully.”
Ben glanced over his shoulder into Sarah's worried eyes. Why had he acted so viciously toward a man he knew? Never before he had he thrown his gun at any man without being drawn on first. “Yeah...sure...” he said putting his gun away. “Inside.'
Sarah gently took Ben's hand and walked him back to the kitchen table. Sitting down, she watched James step through the kitchen door and look around. “Close the door. Were you raised in a barn.” Mrs. Mayfield barked.
“Yes mam,” James jumped and closed the back door. Staggering over to the kitchen table, he sat down in the spare chair.
“You're drunk,” Mrs. Mayfield said disgustedly. Pushing her coffee across the table she ordered James to begin drinking it.
James looked at Sarah. “I was there the day your brother killed my friend,” he said raising a drunken finger in the air and pointing at Sarah.
“My brother killed defending his life,” Sarah answered. Feeling safe with Ben at her side, she felt prepared to have words with the drunk man. Why did Ben make her feel safe, she wondered?
James snatched up the coffee cup, spilling some coffee on the table cloth as he did. Slurping down the hot coffee, he kept his eyes locked on Sarah. And then, he said something that no one expected. “Greg pulled his knife out first and attacked your brother...darn hardheaded mule.”
“You told Sheriff Duffy Greg pulled his knife only after he was attacked,” Ben told James.
“I know that,” James barked at Ben. “I know what I told that old skunk. I know I outright lied,” he said slurring his speech. “But you ain't friends with Pete Longfield, are you? Nope. Pete said I better lie or he would put me six feet under before the first snow falls.”
“Where is Pete Longfield now?” Ben demanded.
“Over at the saloon, where else,” James answered. “More coffee...mam.”
Mrs. Mayfield poured James a second cup of coffee and then pushed her plate of food over to him. “Eat.”
“Why are you making this confession?” Sarah asked James. “Has the threat against your life been taken away?”
“Nope,” James said taking a bite of steak and gobbling it down.
“Then why?” Ben snapped. “I'm losing my patience.”
James took a second bite of steak. “I ain't much but a local drunk,” James told Ben. “Someday I reckon some hunter will stumble across my bones somewhere. But the one thing I ain't is a killer. If I lie on some man who ain't done nothing wrong and they tie a rope around that man's neck...then I'm guilty of killing that man, now ain't I?”
“Why James Ingles, I'm very proud of you,” Mrs. Mayfield said and cut a slice of bread and handed it to James. “I have Apple Pie for desert, too.”
James chewed the bread down. “I ain't good enough to be eating in your kitchen,” he told Mrs. Mayfield.
Sarah stood up, walked to the kitchen sink and wet a sink towel. Walking back to James, she began to wash the man's dirty face. “You were created by a loving God because you were worthy to be called His very own.”
Shocked that such a beautiful woman was washing his face and speaking kind words to him, James stopped eating and looked up into Sarah's warm and caring face. “Mam...I'm just a drunk...I can't even read and write and--”
“You choose to be a drunk, Mr. Ingles. You can change what you are at any time. But change begins within our hearts,” Sarah told James, speaking softly. Ben watched, amazed and stunned. How could Sarah wash the face of a man who had lied on her brother?
Mrs. Mayfield beamed at Sarah with admiration and love. “James, you have always been a good boy. You have also been very good with your hands. You have the making of a fine blacksmith. Why waste your life in a bottle.”
“Cause nobody in this town will give me a job,” James answered shamefully. “I done went to all the ranchers and asked for work. My Pa was bad and they think I'm bad, too. So what else is there for me to do but drink? Even Mr. Mayfield turned me down when I asked him for work.”
Ben suddenly felt guilt attack his heart. He had been evaluating James from the man's outward appearance and actions rather than looking into the man's heart. But Sarah, as she washed James's face, was looking deep into the man's heart. “Ben, will you speak go talk with Sheriff Duffy with me?” he asked changing the tone in his voice. “Before you answer...I'm sorry I put my gun in your face. I had no right.”
“Sure you did,” James told Ben as Sarah finished washing his face. “I would have done the same.”
“There wasn't no call to pull my gun,” Ben told James. And then, the strangest urge came over him. Not understanding his actions, Ben stood up, walked over to James and patted the man on the shoulder. “I'm sorry.”
James looked up into Ben's eyes. He saw a man who was being sincere in his apology. Even though his mind was drunk, he sobered up enough to realize that he needed to answ
er Ben as a man instead of a drunk. “I accept your apology. No hard feelings.”
Sarah walked to the kitchen sink, sat down the sink towel, and looked outside into the dark night. “Mr. Ingles, do you know where my brother is?” she asked.
“Mam,” James answered, “your brother didn't do no wrong. He and his friend struck a little gold. Greg found out and came up with the idea to run your brother and his friend off and take the gold for himself.”
“What happened on the day Greg died?” Ben asked James retaking his seat.
James picked up his coffee and drank the entire cup. “Greg was mighty drunk...me and Pete were hitting the bottle pretty hard, too. Anyways, we ride up to the claim and spot two men taking supplies off an old mule. Greg charges up to them and tells them to get off his claim.”
Sarah walked back to the table, and instead of sitting down, she stood behind Ben the way a wife would stand behind her husband. Ben made her feel safe and, even though she didn't understand why she gratefully absorbed the feeling into her heart. “What did my brother do?” she asked.
“The fella named Joel, the one who fought with Greg, started explaining that he had a legal right to the claim,” James explained struggling to keep his mind as sober as possible. “Greg jumped down from his horse and snatched out that long hunting knife he carries with him. He threatened to...cut the fella named Joel into pieces if he and the fella with him didn't leave the claim.”
“My brother is not a coward,” Sarah assured James.
“He sure ain't,” James agreed. “Your brother stood his ground. That made Greg awful mad...so Greg went after him with the knife. Your brother...the fella named Joel...grabbed a shovel and hit Greg's hand...the hand he was holding the hunting knife in.”
“Take your time,” Mrs. Mayfield told James.
James squeezed his eyes shut. “The hunting knife, I saw it flying through the air. Then I saw Greg running for his knife. He grabbed it up and...then he starts to run at the fella named Joel, but he tripped on a rock and…the hunting knife, Greg fell down on it.”
“You mean to say Greg killed himself?” Ben asked.
