Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana (15 page)

A dash of warmth rushed to Julia’s neck at the thought of his being just a couple miles away. “I did my best to help him the other night. Poor man.” She leaned back in her chair, remembering their conversation and the comfort of being near him. “But he sure was a sight when he arrived. I’m not surprised he’s ill.”

Miriam’s eyes glinted briefly and the look of pity returned. Julia’s chest tightened. What was Miriam trying to tell her?

“I know you thought your ticket would still be good for the next train, but it doesn’t work that way. Isaac said he saw your ticket when he was here, and…oh dear.” She tipped her head to the side. “It’s one-way. You’ll have to buy a ticket home.”

“That can’t be right.” Julia’s mind churned. “I was to return the same day I arrived. Mrs. Gaffin, my headmistress, she knew that. She took care of everything.” Julia stood and moved to the valise next to the bed. She pulled the ticket out and handed it to Miriam.

Miriam glanced at it and handed it back. “I’m so sorry. I know you want to return as soon as you can, but this is not a round-trip ticket. It says the destination is Big Sandy.”

“But—but that’s just the final stop before I return home.” Julia’s stomach felt as if the train had chugged over it, leaving her in pieces. “Isn’t that what that means?”

Miriam slowly shook her head.

Julia slumped back into the chair. The ramifications swirled in her mind like smoke from the steam engine. “I don’t have the fare for a ticket home. I barely have enough money to pay for meager meals along the way.” She glanced around the primitive room, remembering the insects and the snake, the storm. How lonely she’d felt the last two days. It seemed the ache of losing the girls would never mend until she got on with her life—and that meant returning to New York. She’d figured the train would return in about a week. Perhaps she could handle that, but longer? “I need to get back to New York.”

Miriam reached over and grabbed her hands. “We’d help you out if we could, but we just don’t have that kind of money.”

“No, of course not.” Julia’s mind swam, searching for a solution. “I’ll write Mrs. Gaffin. That’s all I can do. I’m sure she’ll send money.” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned.
Oh, Mrs. Gaffin, what have you done?

Julia fingered the tablecloth. “She thought I’d be getting married here.” She glanced up at Miriam and shrugged. “That’s why she didn’t give me a round-trip ticket. She thought I’d be swept into married bliss with”—she covered her mouth as a desperate laugh emerged—“with Horace the goldminer.”

Miriam’s eyes exuded sympathy as she flung her big belly across the table and threw her arms around Julia. “I’m so sorry, dear. But try to think of the good things about this.” She smirked at Julia. “First and foremost, you’ll get to spend more time with my brother.”

Julia pulled her body back and sent Miriam a mock glare. “You’re terrible.” But she had to admit that the thought did make the sentence of staying there a bit less harsh.

Grateful to be feeling better and to be out on the trail again, Isaac had spent the day headed eastward toward Lodge Pole. Yet on his way, he took off on a jackrabbit trail in search of Horace.

When he finally found him in Gold Creek, the obstinate prospector was up to his armpits in the clear mountain water with a white cake of soap clutched in his surprisingly clean hand.

“Horace? Didn’t you take a bath just last month?” Isaac climbed down from his horse and led her to the water. Calamity trotted to the stream for a long drink and then jumped in. The dog’s lips seemed to curl up in a smile as she dog paddled in a large circle around Horace.

Offended by Isaac’s words, Horace refused to talk to the minister for a good five minutes as he slogged out of the creek, dried off next to an old downed tree, and tugged on his grimy clothes.

“Don’t you think you should wash those britches before you put them back on?” Isaac ventured.

Horace shoved his foot in his trousers and glanced up, scratching his wet hair. “Huh?”

Isaac figured the man was at least trying.

Horace finished getting dressed, then smoothed his hair back and donned his hat.

“You look very nice,” Isaac said.

The middle-aged miner licked his lips and grinned. “Why thank ya,” he said, the silent punishment apparently over. “But don’t be going on with that small talk. I know why yer here.” He squatted on the old log, elbows on knees.

Isaac joined him, grateful to have an opening to start the conversation. “Horace, I know you want a wife. I can see how you’d be lonely up here, but—”

Horace smiled. “Yup. Real lonely, but I got me a wife now. A real New York lady I can love, and who’ll fix me up some good vittles,” he pointed to a gash in his pants, “and mend my duds.” He beamed. “I hafta tell ya, Parson Ike. This morning I thanked the Good Lord for sendin’ her to me.”

Calamity ran up the bank to Isaac’s side and shook, spraying droplets of water all over him.

Isaac moaned—not because of the dog, but rather the man. Leave it to Horace to try his patience. What would it take to convince him Julia Cavanaugh was not going to become his wife?

After a couple hours of eddying around the same subjects—“She doesn’t want to marry,” “You can’t buy a wife,” and “She’s going back East”—without so much as budging Horace’s mindset, Isaac finally gave up. As he cinched his saddle around the butterscotch mare’s girth, he tried one last tactic. “Why not trust the Lord to bring the right woman along?”

Horace moseyed next to Isaac and placed a hand on his shoulder. His lips puckered, and his eyes squinted. “With all yer advice ta me ’bout trustin’ the Lord, a soul’s gotta wonder,” he gulped a loud swallow, “why don’t
you
trust the Good Lord, Parson Ike? Why don’t you got no wife?”

Isaac released a low growl. He thought he’d escaped the constant push toward matrimony when he’d left Miriam behind in Lonesome Prairie.

“Horace.” His voice came close to a bark. Then he softened his tone. “We are not talking about me.” He mounted his mare. “Just leave the poor woman alone. At least wait till I get back before you pursue her.”

With the late-afternoon sun on Isaac’s back, he headed east again. He’d intended to reach Lodge Pole by morning to preach, but with nightfall came fatigue. When he spied Giant Jim crouching beside a campfire alongside the road, Isaac gratefully laid out his bedroll. And it seemed he’d barely closed his eyes when he opened them to dawn, the smell of meat over a spit, and Giant Jim’s smiling face. Fifteen minutes later he was finishing up breakfast around the small campfire.

“You cook up a good bite of gopher, Jim. My compliments.” He gnawed one last bite of the tender meat, tossed the carcass into the fire, and then swabbed his greasy fingers on his trousers. “I thank you for the company.”

Giant Jim stoked the campfire with a stick. “Glad to meet up with you here. Heading over to Lodge Pole?”

Isaac leaned back on his hands. “Yup, my parishioners over in Lodge Pole probably think they’ll never hear a sermon again.” He pushed to a stand, but Giant Jim leaned in close, halting him.

“Before you go, Parson.” Jim’s forehead folded into a frown. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

Isaac sat back down. “Of course.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna ruin yer breakfast or nothin’, but…” His normally bold voice wavered. “Mabelina’s run off. I been searchin’ fer days, but I can’t find ’er. I love ’er, Parson Ike. I don’t know what to do.”

A spark flew from the fire, and Isaac snuffed it with his boot. “What happened?”

“A man in town told her if she don’t go back to…well, you know…what she was doin’ before, he’ll turn the vigilantes on ’er for killin’ Elder Milo.” Jim clasped his brow in his Goliath hand as he shook his head. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so plum jealous and pulled my gun that day, Milo’d still be here, an’ my Mabelina and me’d be together.”

Isaac’s mind swirled for answers like a hawk seeking prey. Who told Mabelina she had to go back to the brothel? Could it be old Dusty? From what Isaac knew, Dusty—though not a principled man—had never forced any of the girls into prostitution. Isaac didn’t think there was anyone of such base character in Big Sandy. Maybe in Great Falls, but not in Big Sandy.
Poor Mabelina
.
Poor Jim.
Compassion gripped his parson’s heart.

“Now you look me in the eye.” Isaac angled his head to grab the man’s gaze. “You were wrong to pull that gun. I’m not gonna lie to you. But I can tell by the way you’re actin’ that you’re sorry. Am I right?”

Giant Jim’s eyelids dropped as he nodded. “I am sorry, Parson. I been thinkin’ ’bout it all the time. Tellin’ God I’m sorry, over and over. And not jest fer that. My ma and pa were good, God-fearin’ folk. They raised me in the Bible teachings. I left ’em years ago, an’ when I did, I forsook the Bible, too. Done far too many things I regret. But when Elder Milo died, an’ it was all my fault…” His lips tightened. “It made me wonder.” He suddenly rose, stalked to his sturdy bay, and lifted a black Bible out of the saddlebag. “Been readin’, too,” he said as he sauntered back. “Funny how the learnin’ my folks taught me as a youngster came back.”

Isaac nodded.

Jim hunched down next to Isaac and held the Bible in front of himself. “So what I figured out was that this here book says that I’m some kinda dead man. Like that Lazarus.” Jim’s thick black eyebrows sloped upward as he observed Isaac expectantly. “Dead by all the bad things I done. I wanna be alive.” The Bible quaked in Jim’s trembling grasp.

Isaac steadied Jim’s hands and faced him. “When we were dead in our trespasses and sins, He made us alive in Christ Jesus. I love that passage.”

“It says that?”

“Yes.” Isaac spoke softly, overwhelmed with gratitude to be the vessel God chose. “Do you trust in the Savior?”

Tears pooled in Jim’s eyes. “I do,” he said. “More than any other.”

The man’s simple faith sent a surge of joy through Isaac. He knew the Good Shepherd also rejoiced at the return of one of His sheep. “Then you belong to Him, my friend.” A breeze bustled over the camp, bringing with it a shower of white petals shaken loose from a blossoming tree.

“I’m His.” The burly Montanan’s mustache curved up as his mouth opened in a wide smile. “I know’d it.” He stood and raised his fists. “I know’d it!”

“May I pray with you?” Isaac asked, when Jim settled back down.

“O’ course.” Jim folded his hands and bowed his head like a child.

As the slight breeze washed over them, Isaac lifted a prayer of gratitude to the Father for breathing new life into this man. Finishing, he stood. “I’m proud to call you brother.” He patted Jim’s arm.

“Thank you, Parson.”

Isaac watched as Jim quietly packed up, thinking. Maybe he should go with Jim, help him find Mabelina. Lord knows Mabelina needed the help, too. As a circuit preacher Isaac chose where he went and when. Even though he’d promised to get to Lodge Pole as soon as possible, no one was expecting him on a certain day. He’d be welcomed whenever he arrived. If some time passed between visits, so be it.

As he finished loading the horses, Isaac shot a glance to his new brother in Christ.

“Jim, you ready to go find Mabelina?” He glanced at the sky. “Looks like it will be a good day for a ride.”

“You mean you’ll help me find ’er?”

“I’d be glad to.” Isaac swung a foot over the mare’s back and gripped the reins. “And maybe I can help with the vigilantes, too. From what Warren told me, the new judge—Judge Booker—wants to have Mabelina come before him when he comes around to town. But I want both of you to know that there’s a lot of folks who will be standing up for Mabelina—making sure it’s clear the judge and jury know that the shooting was just an accident.”

“My thanks to ya, Parson Ike,” Jim said, stomping out the campfire. “I’d sure ’preciate yer help.”

Isaac grinned. The folks in Lodge Pole had waited this long. He supposed they’d get by a bit longer.

“Ready for the surprise?” Miriam’s hand on Julia’s arm pulled her to the door. Miriam had arrived at Julia’s provisional home—Isaac’s soddy—after breakfast as she had each of the six days Julia had stayed there. After another twenty-four hours of biding her time alone, Julia was as excited as a child to see Miriam’s plump form.