The Parson's Christmas Gift (7 page)

F
rom Miss Rose’s back porch, Zane watched Sam and Abby’s wagon disappear over the bluff. He took another bite of apple cobbler and rocked his chair back on two legs. The tangy-sweet flavor on his tongue made him smile. “Sarah loved your baking.”

Miss Rose laughed. “I know. She tried many of my recipes, but the poor girl couldn’t get the hang of it. You married a good cook, Zane, but she had trouble with the sweets.”

He nodded. He couldn’t argue with that, though it seemed disloyal to comment. “She was sweet enough herself.”

“That she was. But there’s no harm in remembering her imperfections. They were part of the woman you loved, too.”

True, he thought. But Sarah’s imperfections were few and far between, and they lay buried in the ashes. He set his plate on the stand between the two chairs. “Journey still tires easily.”

“Some. I have the feeling she uses it as an excuse to stay away from folks more than being truly worn out. That girl’s got a lot on her mind.”

Good. At least Miss Rose wasn’t totally taken in by her new housemate. “She does seem rather secretive, doesn’t she?”

“Oh, there’s something bothering her. She’s awful quiet most times, keeps glancing around at all the windows like she’s waiting for someone to pop through them. I hear her setting the lock every night after I go to bed.”

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea for her to stay here. I’d hate to see her drag you into whatever problems she has.”

“Zane Thompson!” Miss Rose jumped out of her seat and glared down at him, hands flapping. “I’m surprised at you. What would you have me do? Turn that girl out now when she has nothing? She lost her horse. She doesn’t have any money. She had me talk to Abby about posting signs hoping to do a little sewing work until her leg mends to help pay for her keep. And you want me to turn her out?”

He held his hands up in a gesture of calm and protest. “Now, Miss Rose, don’t get your dander up. I’m just saying maybe it’d be better if she stayed somewhere else, in town maybe. Sam and Abby might—”

“There’s not room at Sam and Abby’s. Besides, it’s not right. They have a business to run, and Journey’s under my own hire. She’s my responsibility.”

She was right. Dear Lord, forgive him, what was he to do? Journey’s soft brown eyes and wary glance appeared in his mind’s eye. He rubbed his face, hoping to wipe the image away. He had to keep his suspicions in mind. Otherwise it would be too easy to admire her determination.

“I’m sorry, Miss Rose. I know you can’t turn her out. I shouldn’t have even suggested it. But I worry about you.”

Her wrinkled hand rubbed over his and her voice softened. “You can’t take care of me any better than the Lord has all these years. You know worry’s a sin and can’t do you any good anyway. So pray, then stop worrying.”

“I will. I have been, but my heart’s not been in it. I guess even ministers don’t get it right all the time.” He smiled at the tiny woman standing over him.

“Being a pastor doesn’t mean you’re perfect. It means you have a greater responsibility, though. We have to do this for Journey. Whatever her trouble is, God sent her here for us to look after. I don’t know what all that means, but we’ll need to trust that the Lord knows what He’s doing by bringing her to us.” He felt the pressure of her thin lips on the top of his head followed by a warm flush over his ears. “But your concern isn’t all for me. You care about her, too, Zane. I see it. I know.”

He laced his fingers across his stomach and tipped the chair until it leaned against the windowsill. “Comes with the territory.”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard a lot of ministers pray with great compassion, but not one looked at me the way you look at her.”

He laughed and turned away before she could read something else. “That’s how rumors get started, you know.”

She did not laugh. Instead, she set her knuckles on her bony hips and gave him a hard look. “That’s not my style and you know it. And it’s not going to change the subject.”

“What subject?”

“The subject of when you’re going to move on and give another woman at least half a chance to make you happy.”

He rocked forward, both feet hitting the porch floor with a thump. “Hold on, now. I think it’s a bit early to be hitching us up. She’s not even a believer.”

“Maybe not yet. Maybe it’s too soon for us to know much of anything about her spiritual life. But it’s not like you have to marry her,” she said, sitting down in the chair she pulled close to him.

“What?”

“Hear me out before you go jumping to conclusions. I’m saying you’re young and handsome. I’m saying there are several young ladies around here who’ve offered you an invitation to Sunday dinner, and there’s no harm in accepting. But Journey’s the first lady you’ve shown that kind of interest in since—”

“Since Sarah died?” He closed his eyes as the remainder of the hammer-bruise on his forehead throbbed a little.

He felt the warmth of her hand on his knee. “Sarah wouldn’t want you to be alone for fear you’ll not honor her memory. It doesn’t give her any honor for you not to go on living.”

“All I feel for Journey is a sense of responsibility. It’s obvious she needs help, and it’s my duty to do that. The Lord has enough for me to do without thinking of courting again.”

Miss Rose smiled. “I don’t think you believe that any more than I do. The Lord didn’t intend for any man to be alone. You need a helpmate.”

“So you’re trying to get rid of me?” He glanced her way from the corner of his eye and grinned.

“I love your company, Reverend Thompson,” she told him, with a snap of her hand on his leg. “If I was younger, I’d be late for service myself, making that final preen. But I’m not, and it’s not right that you should spend so much time with a crumbly old woman.”

He leaned forward to kiss her soft cheek. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry—it’s a sin, remember?”

“I’m not worried. I just wanted to get you thinking. After all—” she lowered her voice as if the sleeping patient could hear “—she is a beautiful and captive audience right now. That should make it easy enough, even for you.”

She patted his cheek and wobbled a little until she steadied her feet under her. Zane watched her walk back into the house, catching the wink she sent his way before stepping through the doorway.

He rubbed a hand over his face before resting his forehead on his palm. What had just happened? He had meant to warn Miss Rose somehow. He knew Journey had more trouble than she could handle. As long as she stayed with Miss Rose, they could both be in danger. But Miss Rose had turned his concern into something entirely different.

He cupped his chin and stared out over the bluff as a small smile crept across his face. Leave it to her to suggest courting.

“Christians should find all the clean fun they can, show those unbelievers they don’t need all Satan’s wiles to have a good time,” she often said.

He glanced back toward the door, thinking of auburn curls spilling over the arm of the couch and how she had felt in his arms as he settled her there weeks ago. He stretched to his feet, the smile slipping from his face. He couldn’t waste his attention on such things as courting, especially now. There was definitely something more to Journey’s story than she was telling. And until he found out what, he’d have no time for anything else.

J
ourney paused at the top of the mercantile steps to catch her balance as she held her satchel and crutches at the same time.

In another week or so, Doc Ferris said he might allow her to start putting weight on her broken leg. She had taken that as having his permission to finally make a trip into town. Being stuck inside wrangled her nerves, like waiting for a firecracker to explode. So when Miss Rose went to visit Mrs. Hamler, she took advantage of the offer to use the horses.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Abby’s voice gave her a start and she froze. “I didn’t think you were cleared to be walking around yet.”

“I thought, with the crutches…”

Abby smiled and Journey relaxed a little. “I see. But I think that’s what we call ‘following the letter of the law.’ Doc Ferris seemed to think it would be at least another week before you’d be able to come into town.”

“I had a few shirts finished and wanted to get them to you.” That was true enough. She made her way up the remaining steps and hobbled through the door Abby held open.

“I could’ve picked them up later this week. Sam and Zane are delivering an order, or I’d have brought them today. But since you’re here, I’ve got a few more. Word is getting around about your work. The cowboys heading south through here are glad to find someone to take in their mending. But this’ll probably be all from them until spring.”

Journey nodded, trying to hide her disappointment as she deposited her satchel onto the store counter, fumbling with the strap. The sewing had held her through the past few weeks at least. Doc Ferris had never mentioned his fee, but she had been anxious to clear the debt. She couldn’t let it lie unpaid.

“…post a letter?”

Abby’s continued chatter floated back into her consciousness.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I wondered if Miss Rose had given you her letter to post. She usually sends one out the middle of the month to her nephew in Virginia City.” As proud as she sounded, Journey would’ve thought the man was Abby’s own kin.

“Uh, no, no letter today. Does she get to see him much?” She focused on the satchel strap, hoping not to sound overly interested. Her leg started to ache.

“Fairly much so, I guess. Of course, can you ever see enough of family? I know she wishes he were closer. He’s the son of Rose’s only sister, and the last of her family living. She knows he’s doing what he’s been called to do, so she doesn’t complain. But she does spoil him all the more when he gets a chance to visit. I imagine you’ll get to meet him over Thanksgiving.” She wrapped the finished shirts in brown paper, fingers flying almost as fast as the words from her mouth.

“That’ll be lovely, I’m sure.” She’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

“Anything else you need, Journey?” Abby gave her the packet of shirts to be mended.

“No. I’ll just take these next orders and head back.”

Abby leaned over the wide wooden counter, its honey hues just shades darker than her braided hair sweeping across it. “You didn’t tell her you were coming, eh?” she whispered, though they were the only ones in the bright storeroom.

“Not exactly, but—”

The woman waved her hands. “No need to explain to me. I understand as well as anybody how hard it is to be cooped up inside for very long. We’re kindred spirits that way. So I won’t keep you.”

“I appreciate that,” Journey said. “I figured it’s easier to ask forgiveness than to gain permission.”

Abby laughed, light and graceful. “I agree. You really must come for a visit—a good, long one—after you’re all mended. Promise you will.”

She nodded. “Zane tells me I’ll not get beyond the mountains until spring now. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get together.”

“Good. I’ll count on it.”

Abby moved to take the parcels out to the wagon. As much as she hated it, Journey had to admit she was grateful for the help. She wanted to be back before Miss Rose returned. It wouldn’t be right to worry the woman, and she hadn’t left a note.

“Have you made your own dress yet?” Abby asked.

Journey continued to make her way out the door. “I haven’t been in any rush, what with working on the other mending and all.”

“Well, you’d better get in a rush. You’ll want to have it finished for the harvest party, and that’s just over a week away. Lots of single, young ranchers from all over the area come into Walten for it.” Abby fairly beamed with excitement.

Journey couldn’t hide the nervousness in her voice. “Whatever would I do at a harvest party?”

She supposed Abby’s excitement could be contagious if she’d let it. The woman smiled at her, hands moving as she described the town gathering. “People bring in some of their crops to share, kind of a way to see who has bragging rights, I guess. Men bring in sheared wool bales, their teams, those kinds of things. Ladies bring baked goods and sewing projects for display. There are games for the children, and the adults, too. Recitations by the school-children, and singing…” Her voice trailed off, apparently lost in memories of previous years. “It’s great fun.”

Despite herself, Journey found her curiosity growing. What must it have been like to grow up in such a place? Where children were safe and carefree and sent to a real school, where neighbors looked out for one another? The women who’d lived in one-room stalls above the saloon similar to Journey and her mother had formed their own type of neighborliness, she supposed, but it was nothing compared with what she’d experienced in the past few weeks.

While she hadn’t missed a word of Abby’s description, she must’ve adopted a rather bewildered expression, because Abby tapped her on the shoulder. “You will come, won’t you? I’m sure Miss Rose will want you to bring her, and it’ll be a great chance for you to get to meet all the folks around here. You won’t get another chance like this until Christmas.”

She allowed a tentative grin to pull her lips tight. “It does sound nice.” But the last thing she needed was to become acquainted with more people from Walten.

Sometimes the best place to hide is right in plain sight, darlin’. Folks never see what’s right under their noses.
Hank had told her that. Hank would know. He’d swindled more people in broad daylight than there were stars in the night sky.

She nodded her head once, firmly. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for telling me. Maybe I should get started on that dress.”

Abby’s eyebrows rose as the smile on her face widened. “You let me know if I can do anything to help. Even if you just want to talk, stop in. I love to talk, but I’m not a bad listener, either.”

Journey’s heart skipped a moment. What had Zane told her? She drew a deep breath. Surely he wouldn’t say anything about their meeting in the barn. But she couldn’t afford to add to his suspicions.

Thanking Abby, she put her crutches in the wagon bed and hoisted herself into the seat with her arms and her good knee and was soon on her way out of town. She smiled with a small sense of satisfaction and drew her collar up around her as the sharp wind bit at her neck. It felt good to know she had a tight, warm house to go to, especially with autumn nearing an end. The whole town seemed determined to take her in, with or without her permission.

But an icy shiver shook her as she left the town’s borders, one not caused by the winds of coming winter. She glanced over her shoulder. A tall shadow slid behind Norwood’s Mercantile. Why it should make her uneasy she didn’t know, but she urged the horses to a fast trot just the same.

“So what’s put a burr in your saddle?”

Zane started, sitting forward on the wagon seat next to Sam. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you haven’t said more than five words since we left Walten.”

“I thought I was here for my strong back, not my conversational skills.” Zane grinned at his old friend. “You could’ve brought Abby along.”

Sam gave a wounded look. “I happen to enjoy her chatter. She’s lively.” He laughed. “Remember that first Sunday drive we took together, you and Sarah, me and Abby?”

Zane nodded. “I wanted her to stop talking in the worst way so Sarah’d be able to get a few words in.”

“She was more quiet, like me.” Sam gave a sidelong glance as he jostled the reins.

“Sure. And what was it we all called you in school? ‘Magpie’ comes to mind.”

Sam laughed, a deep jolly sound, and Zane joined in. Then he quieted and asked again. “You seem to have something stuck in your craw, is all, and we have a long ride ahead, so you might as well tell me what’s going on. Does it have anything to do with the lovely Miss Smith?”

Zane leaned back on the seat. “I suppose so. Something about that lady doesn’t sit right with me.”

“That’s all it is?”

“Of course that’s all it is. What are you asking?”

“It’s hard not to notice how pretty she is. She’s a smart one to have come all that way on her own, determined, kindhearted…]No one would think any less of you for being interested in that.”

“Don’t you start. Miss Rose and Abby have both been hinting. I don’t think she’s even a believer,” Zane argued.

“But if she were?”

Zane rumbled low in his throat. “You know I don’t condone missionary courtship, Sam.”

His friend slapped the reins lightly, silent for a moment. “After Sarah died, something changed in you—”

“What did you expect—”

“Hear me out, now,” Sam said. “You’ve always been focused on your ministry. I think you had a sense of that even when we were kids. But that focus changed somehow. It’s grown so large now I’m afraid it’s keeping you from seeing anything beyond it.”

“I’m fine, Sam.” He leaned forward again, outside of his field of vision. “I’m doing the Lord’s work, and that’s enough for me.”

“So you don’t think she’s pretty?” Sam asked.

Zane twisted his shoulders so he could look his friend in the eye. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. But I can’t let my judgment be clouded. I can’t help but admire her courage, and she’s got grit, I’ll give you that. But unless she knows the Lord, and until I can figure out the missing pieces to her story, that’s all it can be.”

Sam nodded. “All the more reason for me to be praying for you.”

“And for her, my friend,” Zane said.