An Undaunted Faith

by Andrea Boeshaar

  “Well…” He seemed to choose his words with care. “I sense that you’ve been deeply hurt. Did a man—a soldier, perhaps— harm you?”

  Blood drained from her face, and a sort of chill crept over her. How had he guessed? She squeezed her eyes closed. Oh, God, she couldn’t speak it. She battled the memory and steeled herself for the self-loathing that followed. “One night a renegade Confederate broke into my fiancé’s home and terrorized us. Gregory was killed and…and…” Her voice broke off. “Maybe God wanted to punish me.”

  “No.” Jake stepped forward and took her by the shoulders. He gave her a gentle shake. “Ours is a loving God. He wept with you after your fiancé died. He’s been walking alongside you ever since, guiding and directing you.”

  “For what?” Annetta pushed out a harsh laugh. “This town?”

  “For, maybe, this exact moment.” Jake let his hands fall away. “How else would the Lord have gotten you to Silverstone? How else would He have caused our paths to cross?”

  “Our paths?” What was the good reverend implying?

  Jake straightened. “Why don’t we sit down? There’s something I’d like to share with you.”

  Annetta supposed that would be all right. She walked back to the bench, gathered her skirts, and sat. Jake claimed the armchair once more.

  “I mentioned that none of us is righteous in and of ourselves. In order to spend our eternity with God we have to present ourselves as perfect to Him. But since that ain’t going to happen, seeing as we’re all dirt-stained from the sin of this world, God made a supernatural way for us to get washed clean, and He sacrificed His only begotten Son in order to do it.

  “So Christ was born of a virgin, a miraculous birth that we celebrate each year at Christmastime. Christ grew to become a man, and yet He was God too. Finally, He went willingly to the cross, allowed the Roman soldiers to nail His hands and feet to the wooden posts. As He hung there, God put the sin of the world on His Son’s shoulders, and He bore the punishment we deserve. Christ wrestled with the devil himself for the souls of men. Then, hallelujah, He rose from the grave three days later. We celebrate that day as Easter Sunday.” Jake paused. “I assume you’re already familiar with much of what I’ve said.

  Annetta rolled a shoulder. “It’s not unfamiliar. When I was a child, our family attended church on a regular basis.”

  “Then do you know what you must do in order to be saved?”

  “Live a good life. Be willing to sacrifice for others.” Annetta thought she did that every day. Certainly this morning.

  “Well, that’s fine, but I’m afraid there’s a little more to it than that.” Jake scooted to the edge of his chair and folded his hands over his knees. “What I tell everyone is, you’ve got to confess the Lord Jesus with your mouth and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead.”

  “Believe?” She shook her head. “It’s medically impossible to bring a dead man back to life.”

  “Ah, but it’s God the Father who did the raising and God the Son who came back to life. All things are possible with God.”

  “I suppose…”

  Annetta could concede to at least that much. She’d witnessed a few unexplainable events in medical school that had left her pondering. But she’d been stained by an evil man, and somehow she’d always felt the crime had been her fault. She should have fought harder, screamed louder.

  “Oh, God…” She put her hands over her face.

  Jake came to sit beside her. “He loves you so much, Netta.”

  The deep timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. “But how—”

  “Only believe it. God will do the rest, you’ll see.”

  Moments passed in which Annetta managed to collect her wits. She could feel Jake’s comforting presence beside her, but he didn’t touch her—and her respect for him grew.

  “And believe this too,” Jake began, his voice just above a whisper. “Whatever happened that night makes no difference in your coming to Christ. You still can. In fact, that’s been the plan all along. He’s waiting for you to get on your knees and call out to Him. He is faithful. He’ll hear you.”

  “But He didn’t hear me that night.” Her body trembled, and, oddly enough, she could hear God beckon to her. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. The pastor of her family’s church would have been appalled if he understood, as Jake obviously did, what occurred the night Gregory was killed. She would have been shunned by friends and family alike.

  “Netta?”

  She enjoyed how the nickname rolled off Jake’s tongue. She brought her gaze to his and saw earnestness in his eyes.

  “It makes no difference to me either.”

  Her breath caught. Had she heard correctly? “What do you want from me?” Had she misjudged him?

  But once again he refrained from touching her, not her hair, cheek, or hand. The nervous flutters inside Annetta’s stomach quelled.

  Jake pulled his gaze away and stood. “It’s not what I want, Netta.”

  She supposed he’d proved that just now.

  “But what the Lord wants.”

  “And that is?” She arched a brow.

  “Your soul.”

  “My soul…” It seemed to have departed when bullets riddled the parlor in which she and Gregory had been sitting. Tears sprung into her eyes.

  “There’s still time to wrestle it back from that wily ol’ devil. He’s deceived you.”

  “What?” Suddenly Annetta recalled what she’d told Jake earlier in the week. That she’d lost her soul.

  “God loves you, Dr. Cavanaugh.”

  She looked at Jake in time to see a very appealing grin spreading across his face.

  Once more, he donned his hat before ambling to the door. “If I can be of any help where this subject is concerned, you know where to find me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He dipped the rim of his hat and left the clinic. After he’d closed the door, Annetta listened to the heels of his boots grow distant as he limped down the boardwalk.

  It was then she finally broke down. God, help me! All the guilt she’d carried inside of her. All the pain. The memories, the nightmares. God, take this away from me. Make me whole again. I believe. I believe …

  Drawing in several deep breaths, she regained her composure. It wouldn’t do to have a patient enter and find her an emotional wreck, there in the reception area. She rose from the hard bench and strode to her office where she seated herself at her desk. She kept records of all the patients she saw, and Chicago Joe would be no exception.

  However, concentration eluded her. Questions swirled around in her mind. Did God really have a purpose and a plan for her life? Had he really directed her journey here to Silverstone…and to a reverend named Jacob McCabe?

  Then one question in particular piqued her curiosity. Why hadn’t another female snatched up the handsome reverend and made a husband out of him?

  SIXTEEN

  IT TOOK BETHANY NEARLY AN HOUR TO CALM LITTLE Michael, after which he fell into a sound sleep. She hushed the other children each time they came bursting into the one-room home.

  “Why do we gotta use quiet voices?” Lorna asked, doing her best to whisper.

  Bethany smiled at the adorable child with strawberry blonde curls. “Your baby brother is finally fed and sleeping.” Sitting at the kitchen table, Bethany cut up a freshly butchered and plucked chicken for their midday dinner.

  “Can I see him?”

  “No. Let him be.” Bethany had placed the child in the wooden cradle near the only bed in the house. She imagined the girls shared it and the boys and their father slept in the barn. Not a safe setup for the girls and baby as far as Bethany was concerned.

  “Can I hold ’im when he wakes up, Miss Stafford?”

  “Shh!” Nathan commanded his little sister.

  In reply, Lorna stuck out her tongue at him then buried her face in Bethany’s skirt.

  “Would you like to help me make dinner
, sweetie?” Back home in Milwaukee, her younger sisters often enjoyed assisting Bethany in the kitchen.

  Lorna shook her head and clung to Bethany, sucking her thumb. The notion that the little darling needed a mama to rock her and read to her entered Bethany’s head. However, she felt confident that the role wasn’t hers to accept.

  Seconds later Bethany recalled Mr. Jonas’s proposal. As much as she’d enjoy mothering his children, she certainly didn’t relish the idea of becoming his wife. She remembered how she felt whenever Luke was near, and a dreamlike happiness made her smile right there as she cut up the chicken. But a pleasant memory soon resulted in a distasteful shudder as she imagined Mr. Jonas in a husbandly role. She was only too glad that Luke had promised to stay around all day, so Mr. Jonas wouldn’t try to coerce her into marrying him again.

  “Pa sure looks mad,” Jesse said, staring outside. None of the windows had panes of glass, just wooden shutters that could be closed against the hot sunshine, driving rain, and dreadful dust devils. “And just listen to him layin’ into Pastor Luke!”

  “What’s he sayin’?” Nathan came up beside his brother.

  “I can’t quite hear.”

  With Lorna still clutching her skirts, Bethany stepped to the window and looked out. Mr. Jonas seemed to be shouting about something, all right, and Luke indeed appeared to be the recipient.

  “Come away from the window, children.” Bethany didn’t want to encourage eavesdropping. “You all can help me peel the bushel of potatoes that Luke and I brought with us today. Mr. Winters purchased an entire wagonload, and these particular potatoes are his gift to your family.” She smiled. “Later I will help you all write a nice thank-you letter to Mr. Winters.”

  Jesse groaned but complied.

  “Do you think they’ll have a fist fight?” Nathan wanted to know. His gaze kept straying to the opened window.

  “Of course not!” Bethany had to admit she wondered what was going on out there. Still she believed Luke wasn’t a man to pull any punches. However, she didn’t trust Mr. Jonas. But for the children’s sakes, she added, “Christian men don’t have to use their fists to solve problems. They have God.”

  “Yeah, you lead-head,” Jesse told Nathan.

  “Well, you’re a—”

  “Boys, I’ll have none of that bickering and name-calling. Now apologize to each other and start peeling potatoes like I’ve asked.”

  “Pa calls me and Nathan lead-heads all the time. Ain’t a bad thing if Pa does it. So why can’t we?”

  Bethany nibbled her lower lip as dismay settled around her. Hollering and name-calling from the man of the house? Mrs. Navis used to say such manners were despicable. Unfortunately they reminded Bethany of her own father. Worse, Lacey’s perpetual frown only made her surer she’d done the right thing by leaving Milwaukee when the opportunity presented itself.

  Nevertheless, something had to be done about Mr. Jonas’s behavior.

  With the chicken cut and placed in a black iron pan and the potatoes peeled, Bethany left the house for the outdoor kitchen. She instructed Nathan to look for any more rattlesnakes, and when none were discovered, she felt some of the tension leave her muscles. She fried the chicken to a golden brown perfection. Within a relatively short time, Bethany had dinner ready.

  Luke and Mr. Jonas came in from outside and everyone gathered around the sturdy, rectangular table. Mr. Jonas asked Luke to say grace, and after he’d prayed over the food, the children lunged to grab their share. Bethany went around the table and served everyone a healthy portion of potatoes. As she placed a goodly dollop on Mr. Jonas’s plate, she noticed the angry set to his mouth and the dark stares he sent Luke’s way. He gulped down his food. He hadn’t shaved in weeks, and both his scraggy beard and his hair looked filthy. Mr. Jonas’s clothes were sweat-stained, and Bethany got the distinct impression he didn’t like to bathe and change his clothes often.

  Luke, on the other hand, seemed his light-hearted self, obviously unaffected by whatever Mr. Jonas had been shouting at him about earlier.

  “Beth, this is a mighty tasty meal.”

  “Thank you, Luke.” The compliment pleased her, and she couldn’t wait to cook for Luke after they were married.

  But would they be able to settle their differences so they could wed?

  The baby cried, and Mr. Jonas slammed his fist on the table. “A man can’t even eat his supper…”

  “I’ll take care of him.” Setting down the bowl of cooked potatoes, Bethany strode to the cradle and lifted the infant. Then she made her way to the rocking chair, and in only minutes Michael lay contently in her arms.

  “I hope you plan on eating.” Luke took a long drink of the cider they’d brought as a treat.

  “I’ll finish my dinner after Lacey is done. We’ll take turns holding the baby.”

  Smiling, Luke turned to the kids. “Did you know Miss Stafford once made the most interesting baking-powder biscuits I ever did see?”

  “Oh, Luke, don’t tell them that story.”

  “Please, darlin’? It’s funny.”

  The endearment hadn’t been lost on Bethany. “All right.” She smiled. It was rather amusing. “Go ahead.”

  “Yeah, tell us about Teacher’s biscuits.” Nathan clapped his hands.

  “We like stories,” five-year-old Lorna declared.

  By contrast, Mr. Jonas threw his fork down onto his now-empty plate and slid back the chair. The children cowered while Bethany and Luke exchanged troubled glances.

  “Now, Ralph, don’t go stormin’ out of here. Aren’t you going to stay and listen to this funny tale?” Luke grinned. “I believe it’ll even have you smiling.”

  “No, Preacher, I don’t want to hear nothing you have to say.” With that, he left the cabin, slamming the ramshackle door behind him.

  Baby Michael began to cry again.

  “There, there, sweetheart,” Bethany crooned until he hushed. She noticed too that with their father gone, the other children relaxed.

  “Tell us the funny story, Reverend Luke,” Lacey insisted.

  “All right.” His smile widened and he rubbed his palms together. “Well, in order to get here, to Arizona, we joined up with a big wagon train that started off way back in Missouri. While Miss Stafford and I were traveling, she and a nice German lady named Mrs. Schlyterhaus shared the cooking responsibilities.

  “So one evening,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling, “I had my mouth all set for some good ol’ hot biscuits…you know, the kind that melt in your mouth?”

  Already the children bobbed their heads with eyes wide and curious.

  “But what do you suppose happens when I bite into one of Miss Stafford’s creations?”

  “What?” several of them cried in unison.

  Bethany laughed to herself.

  “It don’t let go!” Luke replied dramatically. “My biscuit stretched like gum, longer and longer, then it snapped right back in my face.”

  Lacey put her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  “Did you finally eat it?” Nathan asked as a lock of his mud-brown hair fell over his forehead.

  “No, sir. It didn’t want to get ate. But it wasn’t long till I discovered those biscuits had some bounce, and pretty soon me and some other fellas were tossing them at each other.”

  “A ball game? With biscuits?” Jesse laughed, and the other children hooted, adding their own silly remarks.

  “Well, here’s the best part. I got friendly with those boys and told them about Jesus. Three of them prayed and asked the Lord into their hearts that very night.”

  “Did you hear the angels rejoicing in heaven?” Nathan sat up straighter in his chair.

  Bethany was impressed. The boy must be paying attention in school. When Bethany taught reading and writing, she often used the Bible. They followed along while she read Old Testament stories such as David and Goliath or the New Testament Gospels, and then they practiced penmanship by copying verses from God’s Word. In addition, every W
ednesday Luke taught them for an hour and emphasized morals and principles. It warmed Bethany’s heart to see at least one of her pupils responding.

  “Angels?” Luke made like he had to think it over. “You know, I believe I did hear their heavenly chorus. What about you, Miss Stafford?” He looked her way. “Did you hear the angels after the boys got saved?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “All I heard was Mrs. Schlyterhaus muttering about my ruining a batch of perfectly good biscuits. I never did figure out what happened.”

  “I know.” Jesse pushed his shoulders back. “The angels got into your recipe when you weren’t looking so Pastor Luke could have a ball game and tell those boys about Jesus.”

  Bethany stood in a moment’s stunned silence. Jesse Jonas paid attention too! Thank You, Lord. My teaching is making a difference!

  “You know, Jesse,” Luke said, “you make a good point. One never knows how God might use His angels.”

  By now the baby had fallen asleep, so Bethany carefully set him into his cradle. Next she dished up a plate of food for herself and ate while the jovial table conversation continued. Once supper ended, Bethany cleared the wooden plates and utensils, enlisting the girls’ help with their washing. Luke lifted little Jeb onto his shoulders as he, Nathan, and Jesse ambled outside to find some work to finish before he and Bethany took their leave.

  “I like Pastor Luke,” Lorna said as they washed the dishes.

  “Yes, I like him quite well myself.” In fact she loved him. But in spite of the enjoyable dinner with the children, Bethany still smarted over Luke’s ultimatum.

  But wasn’t that the same thing she’d offered him? Marriage based on a contingency?

  She thought on it until the dishes were done. After that Bethany and the girls began gathering soiled laundry. With Lorna attached to Bethany’s skirt, she marched into the yard with the dirty clothes. Bethany and Lacey scrubbed the clothes thoroughly in the washtub, and with the help of a stool Lorna hung them out to dry. As the last of it was fastened to the line, baby Michael’s cries could be heard from inside the cabin.

  “Good timing, girls.” Bethany dried her hands on her skirt, since she couldn’t find a clean apron. “Michael is due for his feeding.”