A Life Restored (16 page)

“Dear, it’s well past time for you to get up,” Betty’s voice invaded Thomas’s dream.

Rolling over, he groaned.
 
As he sat up, his head started pounding.

“Come on.
 
You don’t have much time.
 
I saved you a plate of breakfast, but you best start moving or you’re gonna miss leaving on time.”

His run!
 
That’s what she was talking about.
 
He had to ride out today.

He quickly dropped his feet to the floor.
 
Betty hurried from the bunkhouse, leaving him to dress in peace.
 
As he finished buttoning his shirt, he glanced out the window.
 
It had to be after ten in the morning.
 
He was already late.

Moving to the wash basin, he splashed some water on his face and grabbed what he would need for his ride.
 
He ran to straight for the back door of the dining hall.

“Here,” Betty said, thrusting a biscuit toward him.

He held it with his mouth as he took the wrapped cheese and jerky she handed him next.
 
He stuffed those in his saddle bags as he ran off toward the livery, head throbbing the whole way.
 
Thankfully, Craig already had a horse saddled.
 
He threw his saddle bags over the horse’s rump and tied them down.
 
Then he led the horse to Juniper House, the hotel where he picked up the mail.
 
Once he retrieved the mail, he secured it on the horse and mounted.
 
His heart beat out a frantic rhythm as he kicked the horse to a gallop.

Thomas tried to calm his nerves as he tried to recall the previous evening.
 
He must have drunk more than he thought.

Pieces of his conversation with Paul came back to him.
 
He wasn’t good enough for Caroline.
 
He couldn’t be a decent and honorable man on his own.

He groaned, as he remembered standing before the soiled dove’s room.
 
He almost lived up to everything Paul had said about him.
 
Almost.

With the one smidgen of self-control he had left, he had used it to carry his feet back down those stairs without going through with his original intent.
 
Instead, he ordered several more drinks, letting the beer dull his mind.
 
He vaguely remembered someone helping him stumble back to the boardinghouse.

It was probably Paul.

The pounding of the horse’s hooves matched the beat drumming in his head, making the first part of the ride miserable.
 
Thankfully, he reached the head of the steep mountain trail quickly.
 
This leg of the ride required that his horse walk—a much slower pace than any other part of the ride—giving him time to think.

He was a horrible friend.
 
All the advice Paul was trying to give him and he practically threw it back in his face.
 
What a story, too.
 
He could hardly fathom Paul ever being anything like him.

Thomas concentrated for a moment on the difficult switchbacks, guiding the horse with his reins.
 
Once he passed the worst part of the steep descent, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he remembered his first stop would be Perry Quinn’s station.
 
He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon.
 
He would undoubtedly ask about Caroline and he would have to stare into those lovesick eyes and tell him that she was well when all he wanted to do was upstage him in some way.

He pulled his horse to a stop for a moment and looked out over the valley.
 
It was stupid, given that he was already behind schedule.
 
But he just needed a minute to collect himself.

His life was a mess.

Don’t wait for your life to be completely destroyed before you get it.

He was getting pretty close to that.
 
Not too much more he could do wrong, except maybe kill a man—which he would never do intentionally.
 
He’d already done so many things wrong.
 
Paul had pretty much told him that he’d continue to keep doing things wrong without God.

But, his mother had died because she thought God was calling her to care for those sick people.
 
He grew up without her because of God.
 
What could he possibly do to help Thomas?

I can change your heart.

He sat up straighter in his saddle and looked around.
 
The words were so clear he thought for certain that a man had spoken them.
 
Seeing no one, he settled into the saddle and kicked his horse back into motion, trying to push the words from his mind.

He could do this on his own.
 
He just had to try a little harder is all.
 
When he got to La Paz he wouldn’t drink more than one beer.
 
When he got back to Prescott next week, he would avoid the saloon altogether.
 
For his time off, he’d go out to Colter Ranch.
 
Spend some time bouncing his nephew on his knee.

Caroline would be there.

That was just fine with him.
 
He would find a way to resist her teasing smile and lovely lips.
 
He would do what Paul suggested—he’d get to know her and he’d force himself to stop thinking lustfully towards her.
 
He could do it.
 
He would do it.
 
And he didn’t need God’s interference.

Chapter 18

Ben wished he hadn’t promised Betty he would go to church tomorrow.
 
He wasn’t looking forward to it.
 
Last time he set foot on church property was to bury Eddie.
 
Other than attending Christmas services with the Colters, he hadn’t been to church since the Sunday before Sheila and Elijah were ripped from him.

Now he promised Betty he would be there tomorrow.

“So cowboys ain’t your thing?”

Owens voice reached Ben’s ears before he rounded the corner to return Sheila to the stables.
 
He caught sight of the slimy cowboy standing a bit too close to Julia.

“If you like stable boys so much, I might be persuaded to change professions.”

Ben tensed.
 
He didn’t like Owens’ tone nor how he reached up to touch Julia’s face.
 
He moved forward to intervene, but Julia saved him the trouble.
 
She brought her knee up quickly, hitting her mark.
 
Owens doubled over in pain.

“Don’t touch me again.
 
Or next time, I might find a weapon that does even more damage.”

Ben stifled a laugh.
 
The situation was serious, but the look on sweet Julia’s face would make any man think twice about crossing her again.
 
As Owens moved past him, he grabbed the young man by the neck and hauled him off to the side of the barn, leaving his horse unattended.

“I catch ya doin’ somethin’ like that again and it’ll be the last thing ya do on this ranch.”

Owens bit his lip and narrowed his eyes as he tried to stand up straight.

Ben shoved him hard against the barn wall.
 
He brought his sturdy forearm up to rest on Owens neck. “Ya understand me?”

Owens nodded.

Staring down the younger man, Ben loosened his hold.
 
“Same goes for any women on this ranch.
 
Ya better be respectin’ them more’n yer mama or yer whiskey.”

As Ben took a step back, he pushed Owens away from the wall.
 
“Git on outta here.”

Owens hurried away toward the bunkhouse.

Ben sighed, trying to get his pulse to slow.
 
It burned him the way Owens treated just about everyone.
 
He wasn’t too sure he wouldn’t put a bullet in that cowboy if he tried something like that again.

“Ya did good,” he said to Julia as he entered the barn again.

“I can hold my own.”

Ben grunted.

“You forget.
 
I grew up on a ranch.
 
I know how to handle a tough situation.”
 
The smile on her face faded and she looked away.

She had handled every situation that came her way—except the one.
 
The one time Will wasn’t there to protect her.
 
Ben hadn’t been there either.
 
What Reuben, her oldest brother, had done to her—wasn’t right.

Adam called to her from the corral.

“Don’t say anything to him,” Julia pleaded.
 
“He’ll just worry.”

“It’s his right to worry about ya.
 
Specially if yer gonna be his wife soon.”

“I just don’t want him to get hurt.
 
You know Owens could beat him.”

“Yah.
 
Just be careful.”

“I will,” she shot over her shoulder as she hurried from the barn.

Ben removed his saddle from Sheila and began brushing her down in the silence that settled over the barn.
 
His thoughts returned to what tomorrow held.

Going to church was going to be hard.
 
He left his faith behind when he lost Sheila and Elijah.
 
Since then he hadn’t talked to God or about Him.
 
Didn’t have nothing to say.

But, what if God had something to say to him tomorrow?

He’d ignore it.
 
Just like during all those Christmas services.
 
He didn’t have to let down his guard.
 
He didn’t have to give in.

Then why was he so scared?

Sunday dinner was not going according to Betty’s plan.
 
She had been excited when the Colters showed up with Ben in tow.
 
Though, now sitting at the table across from Ben’s scowling face, she couldn’t help but think this had been a huge mistake.

He greeted her warmly before services.
 
But after—the scowl had already taken up residence and hadn’t budged.
 
Something in that message had him down right angry.

Lord, help him work through it.
 
Whatever it is, you know it.
 
He knows it.

Baby James squirmed in her arms, looking for something only his mama could provide, so she handed him off to Hannah who stood and sought the privacy of the kitchen.
 
Betty considered joining her when Ben spoke.

“Tell me this, Reverend Page, what gives you the right to preach about grief?”

Betty sucked in a gulp of air sharply.
 
Somehow, judging by the tone of his voice, he took what Reverend Page said about grief the wrong way.
 
She wracked her brain trying to think of what he said that could have caused Ben to take offense.
 
All she could recall was that Reverend Page said that Christians aren’t to mourn like others mourn because we have hope in Christ’s resurrection.
 
What could possibly be offensive about that?

Reverend Page gently laid his fork beside his plate.
 
In a very calm voice, he answered, “I have experienced my share of grief.
 
I assure you this morning’s message was as much for myself as it was for you.”

“Fer me?
 
What got ya thinkin’ that?”

Betty bit her tongue.
 
Why was Ben taking this so personally when Reverend Page had really been speaking to all of them?

“I think by your reaction, perhaps it was meant for you,” Reverend Page replied, taken aback by Ben’s anger.
 
“To answer your first question, the most recent grief my wife and I have experienced was the miscarriage of our first child.
 
I assure you there is no greater grief than the loss of a child.”

Narrowing his eyes, Ben pressed his lips into a thin line.
 
Then he parted them as if to speak, though no sound came forth.
 
Instead, he stood abruptly, hurrying to the front door.

Betty stood and chased after him.

“Ben, wait,” she said, catching him just before he mounted his horse.
 
“Reverend Page meant no offense.
 
Nor did he mean to minimize your grief.”

Without looking her in the eye, he shrugged away her hand from his arm.
 
“I ain’t rejoicing in my loss.
 
Never have.
 
Won’t start now,” came the response through gritted teeth.

“Reverend Page isn’t asking you to.”

“Isn’t he?”
 
Fiery gray eyes turned on her.
 
Pain creased the corners of his eyes.
 
The firm set of his lips bore a stubbornness—outright refusal—to let go of his grief.

For once, she felt utterly at a loss for words.
 
She wanted to touch him, to squeeze his hand or wrap him in a warm embrace.
 
Something that would help ease his obvious burden.
 
But, in her hesitation he found a way out.

Mounting his horse, somewhat awkwardly for such an experienced horseman, he glanced down at her.
 
“Don’t ask me to come to church again, Betty, if this is sort of thing Page is going to preach.
 
I don’t need a young pup telling me how to grieve.”

With a
yaw
and a kick in his horse’s side, Ben Shepherd galloped down the road, leaving her staring at his fading back.

“Lord,” she prayed in a soft, yet audible voice, “I don’t know what that man has experienced to cause him to latch on to his pain so tightly.
 
But, I do know that you can take even the most stubborn of men and turn their hearts towards you.
 
So, that’s what I’m asking you to do for Benjamin.
 
He needs you more than he knows.”