Song of My Heart (36 page)

He opened the lean-to door and stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, ma’am.”

Faye aimed a bright smile in his direction. Her hair was neatly wound around her head in the shining white braid, and she’d tied an apron over her dark blue dress. Compared to him, even in her homey clothes, she looked as if she’d stepped out of a bandbox. “Well, good morning, Mr. McKane. Did’ja sleep well?”

Thad took a deep draw of the wonderful bacon smell. “I did, thank you. But please—call me Thad.”

She bobbed her head toward the washstand in the corner. “Left Estel’s razor and soap out for you. He already sharpened it up good. So go ahead an’ use it.”

Thad didn’t hesitate. Getting his face cleared of the scraggly black whiskers made him feel clean all over, even though he still sorely needed a bath and a change of clothes. He finished shaving and cleaned the razor on a length of toweling, then inched toward the peg where his hat waited.

Faye flipped a thick strip of meat. A sizzle rose from the pan. “Where you goin’? No need to check on your horse—Estel’s already gone over to the stable. So just pour yourself some coffee an’ set yourself down. Breakfast’ll be ready afore you can down your first cup.”

Flapjacks browned in a separate pan, their sweet aroma mingling with the rich scent of the bacon. Thad swallowed. Temptation moved him toward the table. But then his conscience pricked. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but I shouldn’t be eatin’ up all your food. Besides, I have some business to tend to.”

A brief scowl pursed her brow. “On Sunday?” Her expression cleared. “Oh, of course—you bein’ a lawman, you probably don’t get to quit workin’ just ’cause it’s the Lord’s day. But business or no, you shouldn’t be tryin’ to work on an empty stomach.” She lifted two slices of bacon from the pan and laid them on a waiting plate. With smooth movements, she flipped a flapjack next to the bacon and held out the plate to him. “I might not be able to offer you a feast, but it’d please me to see you make this here sidemeat an’ flatcake disappear.” Her smile turned teasing. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint an old lady now, would’ja?”

Thad stifled a chuckle. He rubbed his finger over his mustache. “No, ma’am, I surely wouldn’t.”

She slid the plate onto the table and pointed to the chair. “Then have a seat.”

Thad decided not to argue. He sat and bowed his head to pray. When he thanked God for the food, he also asked a blessing on Estel and Faye. He ventured a guess there wasn’t a pair of purer souls in all of Clay Centre. When he opened his eyes, he found Faye waiting with the coffeepot in hand, ready to pour his coffee. He accepted the cup gratefully.

“Good to see a young man like yourself givin’ thanks where it’s due,” she said as she returned to the stove. “Too bad you got business this mornin’. Me an’ Estel’d be plumb tickled to have you go to service with us at the chapel. ’Less we’re sick or the barn’s on fire, we never miss.”

Thad chopped free a good-sized chunk of his flapjack and put it in his mouth. Even without butter or syrup, the flaky cake melted on his tongue. Faye’s flapjacks rivaled Cora’s. He picked up a piece of bacon and blew on it. “When I’m home, I don’t miss, either. But today . . .” As he thought about all he needed to do, his appetite disappeared. He dropped the bacon without tasting it.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Faye asked.

Thad sighed. “A whole lot. But—”

The front door burst open and Estel stepped through. “Mr. McKane, I’m afeared I got some bad news for you.”

34 

F
or the first time she could remember, Sadie didn’t attend church services on Sunday morning. She was awake—she hadn’t slept all night—but when Miss Shelva tapped on her door and asked if she was ready for breakfast, Sadie called through the closed door, “I’m not feeling well. Please let me rest.”

The twins stood in the hallway and argued for several minutes about whether or not they should enter the room and check on their clerk or leave her in peace, but to Sadie’s relief they finally headed to their own church and left her alone. The moment they departed, she jumped up, pulled one of her trunks from the corner, and began packing. Tears stung behind her nose as she layered her photographs between items of clothing, hiding her family’s faces from view. They seemed to stare at her in reproach from their little frames. She deserved their censure. She’d certainly let them down.

Before covering the family portrait, she took a moment to gaze into Papa’s face. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she flipped the skirt of one of her dresses over the photograph and slapped down the lid of the trunk. Turning and sitting on the chest, she let her head hang low. Papa had done his best to teach her right from wrong. He’d be heartsick to know how far she’d strayed from the moral values he’d instilled in her.

His final letter sat on her desk, where a shaft of sunlight lit her name written in his hand. She reached over and picked it up, finding comfort in holding the piece of paper and envelope that Papa had held. For long moments she sat with the envelope pressed to her chest, loneliness for her stepfather creating an ache in her stomach. Needing a stronger connection to the man who had raised her, she started to open the envelope and reread the letter.

But then another idea struck.
The Bible
. Papa gained his strength, his wisdom, his creed by which to live from God’s holy word. She searched her memory, trying to recall the last passage she’d heard him read aloud before she moved to Goldtree. She believed it was in Hebrews.

Eager to revisit the words, she dashed to her bedside table and snatched up her Bible. Her fingers moved nimbly, easily locating the book of Hebrews. She lay the open Bible across her lap and scanned the words until she reached chapter ten. Then recognition bloomed in her memory—yes, this was the last passage she’d heard in Papa’s voice.

Leaning over the pages, she read slowly, carefully, drawing the deep timbre of her stepfather’s tone from the recesses of her mind. She read straight through, and when she reached the twenty-sixth verse, she gasped. Her stomach trembled, and she read the Scripture aloud. “ ‘For if we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries.’ ”

She sat upright, her heart pounding. She knew breaking the law was wrong—drinking liquor for the sake of intoxication, tempting men with provocative lyrics, murder . . . All of these things were wrong. Yet she’d unwittingly become a party to each of these sins. And now certain judgment awaited. Even if she escaped Goldtree and started over in a different town, in a place where the people had no knowledge of her former sins, God would know. God would always know. Hadn’t Mama advised, “Be sure your sins will find you out”? Better to be discovered and punished than to carry the weight of guilt or to ignore one’s conscience until it no longer spoke truth to one’s heart.

Sadie set aside the Bible and paced the room. “What should I do, God?” Although no audible answer came, she knew. She must face the consequences of her choices. But first, she needed to seek forgiveness.

Sinking to her knees beside the bed, she folded her hands and closed her eyes. “Dear God, I’ve done wrong. I sang songs that didn’t honor You. I lied to Thad. I did it because I wanted to take care of Mama and Effie and the boys, but—” Realization struck like a lightning bolt from the blue. Her eyes flew open and she stared straight ahead, shamed by the worst of her offenses.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she bent over her clasped hands once more. “And all of it was because I didn’t trust You. You made it possible for me to come to Goldtree. Papa and Mama both believed it was Your will. But I lost sight of that and took it all on myself. I was wrong to think I had to do wrong things to see to my family’s needs. I needed to do right, to honor You, and trust You to meet our needs. I’m sorry, God. Please forgive me for not trusting You enough. Let me trust You now.”

She remained in her bent-low pose, alternately crying and praying, until a hesitant peace crept over her being. Then, sniffling, she whispered, “Amen.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, and her eyes fell on the open Bible. The twenty-second verse seemed to pulsate beneath her tear-distorted gaze. She blinked and read the verse aloud. “ ‘Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.’ ”

A genuine smile formed on Sadie’s face, and more tears ran. But not tears of sorrow or remorse—tears of joy. God had removed her blotch of wrong, washing her clean once more. Her faith had been restored. She didn’t know what would happen next. She might lose her job. She might even have to go to jail. But she would lean on her heavenly Father with the full assurance of faith Papa had taught her.

She stood up and stated firmly, “I choose to trust.” Then her mouth widened in a yawn. Tiredness collapsed her bones. She curled in the bed with Papa’s letter in one hand and her Bible cradled against her ribs. Within minutes, she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Thad knelt beside Thunder and cradled the big horse’s foot in his lap. Thunder snorted, blowing air down the back of Thad’s neck, apparently unconcerned about the swelling in his leg. But Thad was concerned. And so was Estel.

“I can fix that shoe,” the older man said, scratching his head and making his hair stand up. “That’s not a problem. But I’m not sure you oughtta be ridin’ him for a few days. That leg of his needs to rest up. Leastways ’til the swellin’ goes down.”

Thad released Thunder’s foot and stood. He rubbed the animal’s jaw, self-recrimination bringing a rise of remorse. How could he have been blind to the horse’s discomfort? He’d been so focused on reaching Clay Centre—on bringing an end to his own problem—that he’d created a harmful situation for Thunder. “I’m sorry, big boy,” he whispered.

Estel curled his hand over Thad’s shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. “Don’t be feelin’ bad now. Important thing is we caught it. An’ I’ll get him fixed up. So don’t you worry.”

Thad followed the older man to the house where Faye waited, apron gone and a flowered bonnet covering her braided coronet. Estel told her about Thunder’s sore leg, and she listened, nodding, her face creased with concern. When Estel finished, he bustled into a side room and shut the door.

Faye turned to Thad. “I’ll say a prayer for your horse, Mr. McKane. An’ since it appears you won’t be goin’ no place quick, I reckon that means you don’t need to see to your business today. How ’bout you come to church with us?”

Thad gestured to his dust-encrusted shirt and trousers. “Like this?”

Faye gave him a quick perusal, then pointed one finger at him. “Wait here.” She bustled to the door where Estel had disappeared and slipped inside the room. She returned moments later with a white cambric shirt and a rumpled black ribbon tie. “Can’t help with the britches—Estel’s as skinny as a tomato stake an’ none of his would fit ya, even though you ain’t exactly a portly man—but I reckon you can make do with one of his shirts. Go give it a try.”

Thad considered arguing, but how could he refuse in the face of such generosity? He slipped into the lean-to and exchanged shirts. The shirt was plenty tight across his shoulders and the top button pinched, but he managed to get into it. He emerged to find the Hineses waiting. Faye held a well-worn Bible in the crook of her arm. Her face lit when she spotted him.

“Well, now, that makes all the difference. You look fine, Thad. Mighty fine.”

Thad tried to work his finger beneath the collar to loosen it. He felt mighty pinched. But he wouldn’t complain. “Thank you, ma’am. But I hope nobody’ll be offended by the sight of these britches. They’re just about stiff enough to stand on their own.” He sniffed, grimacing. “An’ I don’t smell too fresh.”

The woman laughed merrily. “Now, Thad, you oughtta know by now the Lord ain’t too concerned about what we put on our outsides. He’s one to look upon a man’s heart. An’ unless I’m a poor judge of character, your heart gives your Maker a heap of pleasure.”

Thad fidgeted under Faye’s praise. He hoped her judgment was correct. He didn’t want to think of God being disappointed in him.

“Let’s get goin’.” Estel opened the door and gestured his wife through. “Just a short walk to the chapel, but I’m not wantin’ to arrive late an’ disrupt the service.”

The “short walk” turned out to be eight city blocks, but Thad didn’t mind. The morning was pleasant, and it gave him a chance to work all the stiff kinks out of his legs from yesterday’s long ride. They reached the shady yard of a white-painted clapboard building. Inside, rows of scarred benches served as pews. From the moment Thad entered, he experienced a welcome. The minister’s straightforward teaching ministered to his troubled soul, and by the closing benediction, he was grateful he’d had the chance to worship with Faye, Estel, and their congregation.

The sun had found its way to the top of the sky by the time they headed home, but trees lined the street, offering shade. They walked three abreast, Faye in the middle, with her hand tucked in the curve of Estel’s bony elbow. Their ease reminded Thad of the days he and Sadie had walked together, but he pushed the remembrances away. No sense in spoiling a good day.