An Undaunted Faith

by Andrea Boeshaar

  On one side of the rutted, unpaved road there is an adobe government building, which houses the sheriff and a jail. Ironically, right next door, there is a rickety wooden saloon called Chicago Joe’s and, above it, a house of ill repute. On the other side of Main Street is the Winters’ Boardinghouse, in which I am presently residing. The Winters also operate a dining room and the post office. Beside their place is a dry-goods store and next to it a freight office and a bank. Luke maintains the church at the end of the thoroughfare and delivers the Sunday morning message each week. Jake does carpentry work when he is not riding the circuit and preaching. Beside the church there stands a small one-room schoolhouse, where I teach.

  As one might guess, the two sides of Main Street are largely at odds with each other. Mrs. Winters says we are the “good” side, and those across the way (particularly the women in the brothel) are the “bad” side—all save for Sheriff Paden Montaño, of course. Silverstone’s sheriff has been commissioned by the United States Army and oversees the shipping and receiving of government freight landed in Silverstone by river steamers. Then it is transported across the Territory by wagon. Sheriff Montaño’s father was a rugged vaquero (cowboy), and his mother was a genteel woman from back East.

  I think the sheriff seems to have inherited traits from both parents; however, he is a sight to behold. He is a darkly handsome man with hair so long it hangs nearly to his waist. One would never see such a man in Milwaukee, Wisconsin!

  At first glance, he resembles a fierce Indian, but his actions are polite and refined. Like his vaquero father, he is a capable horseman and masterful with a gun. Like his mother, with whom he was raised, he is well educated. Some say Sheriff Montaño is a Mexican and Indian sympathizer, out to use his status as a United States lawman for his own purposes, but Luke says he’s a fair man. I must admit I have found the sheriff to be charming.

  And then there is Ralph Jonas, who is quite the opposite. He claims to be a Christian man, but he can be quite disagreeable. His wife died during childbirth just before we arrived in town, and Mr. Jonas is desperately trying to replace her—just as he might replace a mule. I was insulted when he proposed to me, and I find his philosophy on marriage highly distasteful. Thankfully, Luke had a talk with him. I don’t know what he said, but now Mr. Jonas keeps his distance for the most part.

  I must admit that I hate it here in Silverstone. I want to return to Jericho Junction. I’m praying the McCabes will find something for me to do there, but first an opportunity will have to present itself. But worse is the next wagon train won’t depart for Missouri again until next spring.

  Six months. Six long months.

  Will I be able to survive that long, here in this Godforsaken land?

  ONE

  A KNOCK SOUNDED ONCE. THEN AGAIN, MORE INSISTENT this time.

  “Coming.” Bethany set down the quill and capped the inkwell. Closing her journal, she stood from where she’d been sitting at the desk Jake had crafted for her use. Then, before she could open the door, Trudy poked her round, cherubic face into Bethany’s bedroom.

  “Mama says breakfast is ready.”

  “Thank you, Trudy. I’ll be down shortly.”

  A grin curved the flaxen-haired girl’s pink mouth. “Reverend Luke and Reverend Jake are already here. Sheriff Montaño is too.”

  Bethany wasn’t at all taken aback by the familiar way in which Trudy referred to both Luke and Jake. Because the men shared the same surname, the townspeople called them by their first names.

  “I’ll be down shortly.” Walking to the looking glass, Bethany brushed out her long brown hair. It had dried from her earlier bath in the river.

  Thirteen-year-old Trudy stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind her. “I’ll bet we’ll hear some lively conversation. Something about cattle stealing. Papa said the Indians have been causing trouble again.”

  “Oh, dear.” Bethany tried not to show either her discontent with this town or her unease with the natives of this land. She gathered her hair then twisted it into a coil and pinned it at her nape. “Was anyone killed?”

  “I don’t know, but I expect we’ll find out at breakfast.”

  With her hair in place, Bethany turned to Trudy. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” The girl strode to the door and paused. “Miss Stafford, who do you think is more handsome, Reverend Luke, Reverend Jacob, or the sheriff?” A conspiratorial expression spread across her face. “I fancy Sheriff Paden Montaño is a handsome curiosity, is he not?”

  “I don’t notice such things,” Bethany fibbed. She folded her arms in front of her. If truth be told, only a woman deaf and blind wouldn’t notice Paden Montaño; however, she wasn’t about to encourage Trudy. The young lady was one of her pupils, and Bethany wanted to set a good example. “And what would your parents have to say if they heard you talking like this?”

  Trudy gasped. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?”

  Bethany raised a contemplative brow. “Well, maybe not this time.” She strode earnestly toward the young girl. “But you must stop allowing your thoughts to be consumed by romance. You’re going to get hurt.”

  “Pshaw!”

  Bethany gasped. “Trudy, really!”

  The girl continued unabashed. “Miss Stafford, if you haven’t already noticed, you and I are the only eligible women in Silverstone—well, except for Dr. Cavanaugh. But she’s too busy to notice men. Even so, you and I can have our pick of any bachelor we want.”

  “You are not eligible.” Bethany knew both Mr. and Mrs. Winters wanted their only child to receive an education before she married. “And I am not…interested.”

  “Are you certain about that?” A taunting glimmer entered her eyes. “You and Reverend Luke seem to spend a lot of time together.”

  Bethany felt her cheeks flame in a mixture of embarrassment and aggravation. “Trudy, I’m a teacher, and Reverend Luke—and Reverend Jake, I might add—are starting a school. It’s only natural that we’d spend time together…to plan and organize.”

  “Well, fine. But I am interested—in getting me a husband!”

  “You’re much too young.”

  “Am not! My friend Emma got married last year, and she’s only two years older than me!”

  “Than I,” Bethany corrected. “And every circumstance is different.” She knew girls in remote places were married off as young as age fifteen or sixteen. “But we’re talking about you, and you’re not ready for marriage. You have a lot of schooling left.”

  “So I can end up like Dr. Cavanaugh?”

  Bethany’s jaw tightened. “And what’s wrong with Dr. Cavanaugh? She seems like a remarkable woman. She’s come all the way from Parkersburg, West Virginia.” Bethany felt a kinship between them, both being women from east of the Mississippi River who had survived the journey along the Santa Fe Trail. But it seemed the physician wasn’t interested in making friends, although she was pleasant enough.

  “She’s a spinster.”

  Bethany shrank. That shoe could fit her foot as well.

  “Besides, no one wants her here. They put an ad in newspapers out East for a male doctor. They thought they were getting one too, until Dr. Cavanaugh arrived in town a month ago.”

  “Yes, I know about the mix-up.” Although Bethany couldn’t be sure it was an oversight on Dr. Cavanaugh’s part. According to Jake, she’d signed her letter of application A. L. Cavanaugh. Everyone just assumed the rest. Since the day she arrived, Dr. Cavanaugh didn’t appear to be offering up any explanations for her behavior, even though plenty of men besides the sheriff and Jake weren’t pleased.

  “Folks say she’s running from something back East, and I just wonder if it’s true.”

  “That’s gossip, Trudy. Christians ought not indulge in it.” Bethany had heard Jake say the sheriff checked Annetta Cavanaugh’s background thoroughly—at least as far as the law was concerned. “As for you, young lady, you need to pay attention to your schoolbooks instead of romance an
d gossip.”

  Trudy gave her foot a stomp. “I’m not a child. Why do you and my parents treat me like one?”

  Could be the tantrums. Bethany quelled an impatient sigh. Trudy Winters posed a challenge to be sure.

  But in spite of the vexation the girl caused her now and again, Bethany felt determined to befriend her and become her trusted teacher. Perhaps she’d somehow make a difference in Trudy’s young life. However, she certainly wouldn’t accomplish such a feat by arguing with her.

  Turning to the looking glass again, Bethany gave her reflection a final inspection. She smoothed down the skirt of her cotton printed dress. The leanness she’d acquired from walking those seemingly endless days on the trail had gone. In the past few weeks she’d put on some weight, so now her clothes fit nicely again. She tugged at her bodice. Perhaps too nicely. In fact, her dresses were almost snug, thanks to Mrs. Winters’s good cook, Rosalinda.

  Bethany made a mental note to purchase some material and make a few new clothing items.

  She whirled back to Trudy. “I’m famished. What’s for breakfast?”

  Trudy’s countenance brightened. “Omelets with Spanish tomatoes, peppers, and onions…and biscuits, of course. Papa loves biscuits.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Ever wonder why men insist upon biscuits at nearly every meal?”

  Bethany laughed lightly. “I suppose the biscuits help to satisfy their voracious appetites.” She took Trudy’s arm. “Come along. Let’s go downstairs.”

  Trudy complied, and they strolled into the hallway and to the stairs. “Aren’t you the least bit interested in getting married, Miss Stafford?”

  She paused on the landing as a vision of Luke McCabe flitted through her mind. “I guess I’d be a liar if I said I never wanted to get married. Doesn’t every woman?” She’d marry Luke in a heartbeat. But he treated her like he would another younger sister. Jake did too.

  “Then why don’t you?”

  “Trudy, I’ve learned there are other things in life of greater importance. Serving others, showing them the love of Christ—”

  “Yes. I think so too.”

  “Then steer your thoughts toward reading and arithmetic.”

  Trudy groaned.

  They finished descending the stairs, and Bethany felt hopeful. So she was making a difference with Trudy…

  As they reached the last step, Trudy proceeded to flounce into the dining room. Bethany watched in dismay as the girl boldly approached the sheriff and began a conversation. Had she no shame? No fear? Trudy was certain to get her heart broken. Bethany sensed it coming like a brewing thunderstorm off in the distance. The men in Silverstone were not exactly refined gentlemen with whom a young lady could trifle in the parlor. No, they were hardworking river men, vaqueros, former soldiers, and, when it came to their land, their horses, and their women, these fellows were serious!

  “Well, good mornin’, Beth.”

  Startled from her musing, she looked to her left and found Luke leaning casually against the banister, wearing a rakishly charming smile—one that didn’t seem to belong on a reverend’s face.

  Then, again, Luke was always charming, and they were merely friends.

  “Morning, Luke.”

  “You look right pretty today,” he drawled. “Can I escort you over to the dining table?”

  “Yes, thank you.” The compliment carried little weight. She knew Luke was just being his polite self. He’d been raised with the adage if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

  What’s more, Bethany knew that if they were in Milwaukee or even back in Jericho Junction, Luke probably wouldn’t give her a second look. He was, after all, a fine-looking man, strong, intelligent, and kind. She, on the other hand, was as plain as a field mouse. Her long hair was a nondescript brown and hung nearly to her waist, although she never wore it down. Her eyes were an average bluish-gray, like the sky on a misty morning, and her lips were just an ordinary shape. A smattering of freckles covered her nose and cheeks—her own fault, since she abhorred wearing a bonnet. She’d likely end up a spinster—a fate worse than death according to Trudy Winters. But so be it. Bethany felt sure she could be a respectable part of any community as an unmarried teacher…

  Just not this community!

  Luke slipped her hand around his elbow and guided her toward the dining room while Bethany gave him a furtive look. His hair was the color of wet sand, and his blue eyes were as clear and inviting as Lake Michigan on a hot summer day. Along his well-defined jawline a shadow of perpetual whiskers made the good pastor appear more like a shady outlaw. However, his rugged exterior cocooned a sweet disposition, and Luke’s warm, friendly smile disarmed even the worst skeptics. His tall frame included broad shoulders, slim hips, and long legs, and many times during their journey, Bethany found herself admiring God’s messenger instead of listening to the message—a sin of which she was forever repenting.

  But she’d gotten over that silliness now that they’d arrived in Silverstone. She simply refused to look at Luke while he preached on Sundays and, instead, forced herself to listen closely.

  They reached the dining table, and Luke seated her politely before taking his place beside her.

  “Good morning, Miz Stafford.” Paden Montaño stood and smiled at her from across the table.

  She inclined her head cordially. “Sheriff.” She looked over at Jake, who had also stood when she’d entered. “Good morning.”

  “Beth.” A smile warmed his brown eyes, although it never made it to his mouth. An onlooker might think Jake McCabe was terse and unfriendly, but Bethany knew from months of traveling with the man that he simply didn’t show emotion like other folks. What’s more, his bad leg pained him terribly sometimes. But far be it for Jake to let anyone know. He preferred to suffer in silence.

  As everyone else took their places, Bethany allowed her gaze to wander around the table until it met the sheriff’s brown eyes. He seemed to regard her with interest, and she shifted uncomfortably, lowering her chin and studying the plate in front of her.

  “You look very rested, Miz Stafford.” The sheriff spoke with a soft Mexican accent that Bethany found quite enchanting. And if she were completely honest, she’d have to agree with Trudy. Paden Montaño was definitely a “handsome curiosity.” Today his shiny, dark hair had been pulled straight back and tied with a piece of leather string. His skin was tanned and clean-shaven with the exception of his sleek, black mustache. “I trust you are finding your stay here in Silverstone quite comfortable,” he added, his dark eyes shining like polished stones.

  Bethany hedged, not wanting to lie. She didn’t dare say she hated the Arizona Territory with both Luke and Jake at the table. “Everyone has been very kind to me thus far.” She turned a smile on Mrs. Winters.

  “Good, good...”

  Mr. Winters gave a clap of his hands just then. “Let’s ask God’s blessing on the food and dig in.” He sat at the head of the table and nodded at Jake. “Reverend Jacob, will you do the honors?”

  “Of course.” Bowing his head in reverence, he began, “Heavenly Father, we thank You for this beautiful day and the appetizing bounty You’ve placed before us. Thank You for the hands that prepared this meal. Bless it to our bodies, I ask. In Christ’s name, amen.”

  Dishes were immediately passed around the table.

  “So, Montaño, I hear you had some excitement last night.” Mr. Winters forked a large piece of egg into his mouth.

  “Excitement, indeed. Cattle rustlers hit the Buchanans’ ranch. Clayt suspects the Indians, of course.”

  “Any truth to that?” Ed Winters smacked his thick lips together beneath his long, bushy, light-brown beard. “I heard there’s a tribe living just north of here.”

  “Sí, but the Indian nations around here are not bloodthirsty. Nor are they interested in the Buchanans’ cattle.” Sheriff Montaño took a long drink of his coffee. He smiled at Doris Winters. “Ah, a good strong brew. Just the way I like it.”

&nb
sp; The older woman blushed, looking pleased. “I’ll be sure to tell Rosalinda,” she promised, referring to the grandmotherly Mexican cook.

  “About that looting last night, Montaño,” Mr. Winters continued, “you think us townsfolk have to worry?”

  “No.” He bit into his biscuit.

  “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

  “Watch. Keep my ears open.” He paused to chew his food and then sat back in his chair. “I have a hunch it is the work of outlaws, but they will not get away.”

  From the sheriff’s right side Trudy sighed dreamily. “You’re so brave.”

  He gave her an indulgent smile.

  “Well, I’d keep my eye on them Indians, if I was you.” Mr. Winters snorted. “Can’t trust them. I just wish the government would hurry up and take care of them.”

  Paden Montaño’s face was devoid of expression, although his next words were deliberate and carried force. “It is a shame that most people feel as you do, señor, because in general the tribes are peaceful since the war in the fifties. But just like white men, they do have their outlaws and renegades.” He looked over at Luke. “I’m sure the reverends would agree…God made the Indian as well as the white man. Isn’t that right?”

  “He did,” Luke said.

  Jake agreed.

  “Well, even God makes mistakes,” Mr. Winters grumbled.

  “No, sir, He does not,” Jake quickly replied. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms, and Bethany could tell he enjoyed the turn in the conversation. “The God of the Bible is perfect and does not err. He made man in His image. ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.’ I reckon the words world and whosoever includes Indians, Mexicans, and every other kind of people there is.”