Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana (8 page)

Guilt stabbed Isaac’s gut as he grabbed the saddle horn and swung onto his mare, Virginia. How could he have been so harsh to that woman who’d showed such strength and grace? In his mind’s eye, he saw the two girls wrapping their arms around her slim form after she’d offered to adopt them. Then, when she chose to place them in Abe and Elizabeth’s care, she’d put on a brave smile. Even though pain obviously boiled under the surface, her smile radiated comfort to those girls. How blessed they were to have her all those years.

How could I have been so callous?
What had she called him?
One rude parson
. She was right. Part of him longed to apologize, to view that lovely face once more…but no. Isaac forced the idea aside. He’d only confuse matters. Best to just let her go in peace.

Besides, his poor parishioners over in Lodge Pole had been expecting him for two weeks now. After Milo’s death, his circuit had been cut short. But now, with the funeral behind him and the orphans safe in their homes, he could get back to his normal pace. Preaching seven days a week, sleeping under the stars or in the loving homes of his congregants, visiting the sick—the familiarity of this routine would bring rest, peace.

Thoughts of the school returned. In a couple of months, a load of supplies would be coming by train. He and Milo had ordered the precise supplies they’d need for a small yet suitable schoolhouse.

Of course, the most important element hadn’t been located yet. A schoolmarm.

Calamity’s tongue hung from her mouth as the old dog trotted alongside, keeping her good eye fixed on him. Isaac reached the edge of town. He rode by Milo’s house, the only building with an upstairs, and paused. Wooden crates lay stacked on the front porch, and a wagon—was it Warren’s?—waited in the grassy side yard. Perhaps Aponi was cleaning out Milo’s things. The widow, with her six girls, had exuded enormous strength over the last weeks. But to Isaac, her trusted pastor, she’d confided that inside she felt alone, abandoned on this prairie without the man she loved.

As Isaac considered stopping in to pray with her before heading out, he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see his sister Elizabeth racing toward him. Her family’s wagon waited on the street. Isaac grinned at the two girls—his sister’s future—nestled in the back.

“Aren’t you anxious to get your new family home?” he asked from his mount on the horse.

“Of course.” Elizabeth beamed. “But I wanted to check on you before you left, since Miriam shooed you out like a bad-tempered ewe.”

Isaac chuckled. “I know. You’d think after five years on the prairie, she’d let me grow up.”

“She’ll always want to mother us.” Elizabeth smiled. “Listen, my dear brother, are you sure you don’t want to stay out at the ranch tonight? Sometimes parsons need caring for, too.”

His horse whinnied and tossed her head, eager to get going. Perhaps she’d grown anxious about staying in one place too long, as he had. Isaac reached down and touched his sister’s shoulder. An evening filled with the love of family—a good meal, as much talking as he needed but not more, and a steady night’s sleep in a soft bed. The images tempted him. Still, he couldn’t shake his obligation to the folks over east. Or his need to sleep under a sky full of stars.

“Thank you kindly, but tonight me and the prairie have an appointment.”

“You and God, you mean.”

Isaac nodded, grateful his sister understood. “You go. Enjoy your first night with my nieces.”

“Yes, I will.” Elizabeth paused, glancing at the road. “I just can’t stop thinking about that young woman. I feel so bad for her.” She lingered, like she had something she wanted to say.

Shame covering him, he tilted his head. “I was really horrible, wasn’t I?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Just go apologize.”

“You think I should? I mean, you don’t think I’ll make it worse?”

“No, dear, you can be downright sweet when you put your mind to it.” She patted his knee. “But, truly, a kind word from a parson might, I don’t know, comfort her.” She threw him a cheeky grin. “Even a rude one. Especially if he’s repentant.”

Isaac chuckled. “You’re right. I will.”

“You better hurry. She’s walkin’ back to the depot.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand then spun around and hurried to her wagon.

Isaac watched as it rumbled down the street. Shelby and Bea’s heads tipped back as if looking ahead to their new lives awaiting them.
Dear Lord, gather them in Your arms. Guide their footsteps. Teach them Your ways.

“Go on!” Elizabeth hollered back at him.

Isaac leaned forward, but just before he thrust his horse into a gallop, he saw Horace sashay out of the Log Cabin Saloon all gussied up in a black coat and bolo tie. He even wore a new hat. In his left hand, he grasped papers. Horace in a suit? Something wasn’t right.

“Hey, Horace,” Isaac called. “What’re you doing?”

“I done gone bought me a wife. And I’m headin’ to cash in.” He stamped toward his wagon. Not the nicer wagon he’d borrowed from Miriam to pick up the ladies from the train, but his smaller unit that looked ready to fall apart, pulled by one tired mule. “Ho there, looks like she already hightailed it back to the train. Sorry, Parson Ike, I gotta go fetch that Miss Julia Cavanaw-guh.”

Isaac urged his horse next to Horace’s wagon. “What? You
paid
for Miss Cavanaugh to marry you?”

“Yup.” Horace held up the papers. “Got the receipts right here. But that Mrs. Hamlin, or Gaffin, or whatever it was, she said she wanted ta surprise the little lady.” He snapped his fingers in an arc in front of him. “Now’s the time.”

Isaac, baffled at the prospector’s logic, raced his horse next to him. “But you can’t buy a wife.”

Horace shook his head, surprised. “Why, o’ course you can. Haven’t you never heard of them mail-order brides? I could never get my nerve up with the ladies ’round these parts, so I done ordered one.” Horace reached the wagon and jumped onto the buckboard, grabbing the reins. “And if you wanna know a secret, I’m not gonna tell her until she gets on my wagon thinkin’ she’s headin’ back to the train.” His belly jiggled as he hooted. “Can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

The prospector whipped his mule, and the wagon jolted ahead.

The wind blew in hot and dusty, drying Julia’s tears. She tried to swallow, but her throat felt raw, parched. She focused her eyes on the railroad depot, just a lonely rail car, and the train parked at the water tower. She knew it wouldn’t be there long.

Soon she’d be climbing its metal steps and sliding into her spot next to the window. She’d make the connections until she boarded an eastbound engine in Helena. Then she’d finish
The Prairie Knight
without interruption. She’d be given a quiet she hadn’t known—ever. Yet rather than cherish the prospect, she felt grief like a dark storm grip her heart despite the bright Montana sunshine.

Her feet plodded forward, and she shielded her eyes as she stared into the vast sky, alive with endless white, rolling clouds. “Are You taking care of me like my mama said?” The wind carried away her whispered words along with the dust.

Up ahead the train rumbled and chugged a half mile from the water tower to the depot. As she quickened her steps, the sound of hoofbeats rumbled behind her. In a blink, a horse sprinted across her path and stopped. The parson tugged off his hat.

His dark eyes unsettling her, Julia sucked in a breath.

The parson fixed his eyes on her and seemed to shift uncomfortably in his saddle. “Miss Cavanaugh, uh, I need to tell you”—the man sucked in a slow breath—“I’m sorry…”

Perceiving his purpose, she nodded quickly and looked around him toward the train. “There’s no need to apologize. Thank you, but,” she pointed ahead, “the train will be leaving. I have just a few minutes.” She walked around the horse, moving forward again. So he wanted to make things right. Maybe he wasn’t so rude after all.

Isaac jumped down and hurried toward her, leading his horse.

Julia curved stray strands of her hair behind her ear. “It’s really all right, Parson,” she called over her shoulder. “My behavior also left much to be desired.”

He reached her. “No—you were—fine.” His eyebrows slanted as he gazed at her, and Julia couldn’t help but notice his strong jaw line.

Her knees softened. Her hands trembled. A new nervousness came over her that had nothing to do with the train.
What’s wrong with me?

He kept pace beside her. “You’re an admirable woman to take care of those children as you have. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. It was inexcusable.”

She looked to him again.

His lips formed a crooked grin. “I
am
a rude parson.”

Julia halted her steps and shifted her gaze to him. “No, you’re not.” She shook her head. “It was awful of me to say. I’m sorry.”

A surge of wind tugged at Julia’s skirt. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed it also tipped Isaac’s hat. He moved his hand to settle it.

“I also wanted to tell you,” Isaac continued, as they set off again, “that I’ll be praying for you.” After a quiet moment, he continued. “Do you have a Bible?”

“Yes, in my valise.” The bag weighed heavy on her arm. Isaac took it from her, his fingers grazing her sleeve.

“I don’t mean to assume anything,” he continued. “I don’t know if you’re a Bible-reading person, but if you think of it, you may want to read Psalm 63:1. It brings me a lot of comfort.”

Julia tilted her face toward his. A soft smile, genuine as if springing from a soul at peace, graced his features. Julia understood why his parishioners would turn to him in times of trouble. She knew his kindness stemmed from his occupation, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

“Thank you, I’ll do that.” She viewed the train and gave an apologetic smile. “I really have to go. The train won’t wait.”

The sound of creaky wheels and a slow shuffle as from an animal broke the moment.

Isaac turned. “Oh no, I almost forgot. Horace?”

“Did I hear my name?” Horace pulled up in his wagon.

Horace eyed the parson. “Why’d you take off so fast, Parson Ike?”

“I needed to talk to Miss Cavanaugh here, and I wanted to catch her before she got on the train.”

The old character grinned and winked at the parson, then he turned his full attention to Julia. “So, little missy, can I give ya a ride the rest of the way?”

Julia glanced at Isaac. He frowned and shook his head.

“Thank you, but I, uh, think I can make it on foot,” she said, taking his unspoken advice. She moved forward. “I’m almost there now.”

Horace nudged his mule, and it pulled the wagon beside her. Isaac kept pace on the other side, leading his horse. Julia fanned her face with her hand. She needed air.

“I thought we could go somewhere to talk for a bit, miss.”

Julia’s gut wrenched. Her day had been troubled enough; she didn’t need another distraction. She forced herself to send the man a smile. “I’m sure I’d be happy to, but…the train.” It was at least the tenth time she’d said that. Why didn’t these men seem to grasp the urgency?

Horace halted the wagon and hopped off. He marched to her side, papers clutched in his hand. Stepping back, she nearly bumped into the parson. His hand caught her, resting in the small of her back. An embarrassed rush of warmth rose to her neck, and she moved herself forward.

“The thing is,” Horace grinned, “I’m gonna be talkin’ to ya. If ya wanna do it right here, that’s downright fine. Whatever suits ya.”

Julia’s gaze focused on the train waiting at the depot. Her heart pounded. They’d be boarding soon. If she hurried, she still had time to find her seat and get situated. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t quite know what you want.” Julia pulled her valise from the parson’s hand and took a step toward the train. “I really need to go.”

Horace jounced in her way, his portly body continuing its movement after he stopped. “Now hold on, thar, miss. I got somethin’ to show ya.” He handed her a photograph. “That’s you, ain’t it?”

Figuring the only way to get past was to humor him, Julia glanced at the photo. Her jaw dropped.
How’d he get that?

It was her. About two months ago, long before Julia knew of the orphan train, Mrs. Hamlin had insisted she go to a photographer. Mrs. Hamlin said she wanted a photograph, for a keepsake. Julia had thought it strange. “Yes, that’s me.”

Horace took off his hat. Sparse hair bobbed wildly in the wind. “Then I’m the man you came fer. Horace Whitbaum. Your new husband.” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to make yer acquaintance.”

Isaac swayed to Horace. “I don’t think you understand,” he stated calmly—much more calmly than Julia felt. “Miss Cavanaugh isn’t planning on staying here. She needs to get to the depot.”

Julia tossed Isaac a grateful smile, still unable to imagine that this gray-haired man thought she would become his wife. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m not intending to marry anyone.” She spoke as sympathetically, yet firmly, as she could. “So please. My train will be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Horace, you’ve got to let her go.” Isaac’s voice took on a parental tone. “Now stand aside.”