dream altogether.
He rubbed his tired eyes, wincing when he nudged the lump on the side of his head. He’d gladly trade it all to be rebuilding his dream with Sarah, rather than continuing it without her.
Zane made his way into the little house he’d built for himself. The Lord had called him to the ministry, and he had believed at one time that Sarah had been the one to be his helpmate in it. But hadn’t the Lord shown him otherwise by taking her so soon from him? He’d failed somehow—failed to protect his family when they needed him most.
He rubbed his face and moved his hand back to his neck. He needed to wash up and finalize his sermon notes, then make a visit to the Culpeppers’ and see how Agnes was faring with her gout. Then he’d ride upstream a bit and practice his sermon before turning in.
It would be a productive day. It had been a productive week. But it didn’t change the fact that he’d come home to an empty house tonight.
Journey gave the ropes a final tug, securing her bedroll to the saddle. The horse sidestepped and pranced. Journey watched the evening sun drip into the horizon behind the peaked hills. She pinched her lips and let go a long breath, then nudged Gypsy toward the west.
Her cheeks ached from holding a tight smile for the better part of the afternoon. It took a firm hold to keep her horse at a walk tonight. They crossed the bridge leading out of town.
“I thanked her for the offer, of course, Gyp.” She used low tones to calm the skittish horse. “But there’s no way we can stay here. It wouldn’t be right to drag her into our mess. Besides, her nephew is the law in Virginia City. We can’t risk being caught. I’m not the fool I was when we first left Georgia.” Her horse skittered and neighed. “Well, not quite.”
Gypsy tossed her black mane and whinnied. “I know. I liked the lady, too. I think we might have gotten a fair shake from her.”
She felt guilty taking supper with the Norwoods, but Abby had all but tied her to a chair. Besides, she knew she’d do well to fill up before hitting the trail again. She excused herself before Abby brought out the pie, saying she wanted to explore the town before dark. But the wide, friendly streets and small, boasting businesses didn’t attract her as much as the gurgling river and mountain views. They gave her space to breathe. She could appreciate Miss Rose’s desire to be away from Walten’s streets. There was no way she could stay. But she thought again of Miss Rose’s ranch. Was there?
“We’ll try the next town,” she said. “We can’t expect comfortable. Maybe when things have settled down more, we could come back. Everything is too messed up now.”
She stroked the horse’s brown neck. There was no time to be looking back. She’d had her chance. Stupid, stupid, stupid…]Leaving Hank at the start would’ve been so much smarter. There’d been no reason to stick around after that first slap. There probably hadn’t been much of a reason to stick around before it, for that matter.
She shivered, rousing herself back to the moment at hand. With the glow of the sun in the twilight sky being all that remained of the day, the cool of night drew up a breeze. It would be cold sleeping out on the trail tonight. She thought a moment of the airy upper floor of that ranch house. She could picture Miss Rose poking the fire, banking it for the night.
Journey buttoned her coat up to her chin and shifted in the saddle. She’d cut through toward the bluff and camp in the stand of pines there, then keep heading west at first light. Quiet sounds of the night echoed over the bluffs—the hoot of an owl, soft wind from the hills. Her arms and legs lost some of their tenseness. The trail narrowed, but the trees brushing overhead gave the comfort of shelter.
Her eyelids drifted closed until her horse balked, refusing to move on. “A little farther, Gyp, and we’ll bed down.” She dug her heel into the flank.
But the horse reared back, snapping her fully awake, fingers tensed over the reins. She grabbed the saddle horn before she slid too far. Just as quickly, the forehooves clapped the packed dirt. It jarred the breath from her. The horse raced farther into the trees, heedless of the commands she bellowed. She stretched her arms as far as they’d reach around the horse’s neck, muscles pulling as she hung tightly.
She bounced, her vision rattled as she tried to stay mounted and, at the same time, watch the direction the animal was taking.
The horse squealed, then lurched to a stop. Stars, leaves and dirt tangled before her. She felt weightless for an instant, then all of gravity’s force came back to her with a crunch. The dimness of sunset faded to dark.
Chapter Five
Zane reined his horse to a stop, breathing hard. “Feels good to stretch the legs, eh, Malachi?” He patted the steamy neck as he dismounted by the stream. Closer to town, the brook broadened and slowed into a river. But here, it still gurgled and bounced over rocks.
He hunched down by the edge and trailed his fingers in the water a moment, then scooped a handful to drink. It ran fresh and cold down his throat, and he smoothed the back of his wet hand over his lips and chin. He’d need to shave before service.
Stretching out on the stubbled grass with his hands clasped behind his head, he stared up at a night sky of the deepest blue, covered with stars high above. Miss Rose would have a piece of his hide if she knew he’d come out without his coat.
For as long as he’d lived here, the beauty of the land had never failed to awe him. “Lord, I thank You for Your hand I see in all creation. It’s a comfort to know things are in the order You made them to be.” The scent of sage carried on the wind. He traced the swollen lump around his eye with his fingers.
“I pray, Lord, that You’ll bless the folks here. Make sure I preach the words You give me to their benefit as well as my own. And thanks for watching out for me today when I fell. It could’ve been worse, I reckon. Turns out just my pride got hurt. Keep a special eye on Miss Rose, too, Lord. She’s a dear old soul who’s loved and served You a long while. I’m asking You to send the right person to help her.”
Journey seemed an unlikely choice. She reminded him of a colt his father had bought from a rancher known for poor handling of his animals. That colt never lost the suspicious gleam in its eyes. It always flinched when touched, bolted often and busted fences more times than he could count.
“Until You do, Lord, help me look after Miss Rose. And thank You for putting her here to take care of me like she has ever since—”
Since Sarah died. He scratched his chin and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. A fire blazed in his chest. Sarah. Their baby she carried. The flame that took them burned in him still. Three years without them—where would he be now without Miss Rose’s prayer and love and support?
“I still miss them. I know they rest with You, Lord. It makes it easier, but I still ache that they’re gone. Help me, Lord.”
He stood and brushed himself off, clearing his dry throat. “All these things I lay before You, in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
He nickered to his horse, who trotted over and nuzzled his shoulder. “C’mon, Malachi. Let’s get back. You can listen to my sermon before I turn in.”
He’d always been a fair tracker, but when the Lord had called him to preach, he was sure he’d misread the signs. His palms still sweat when he stood before his congregation. Sarah had always listened to the sermon twice—once the evening before
