Love Inspired Historical April 2014 Bundle: The Husband Campaign\The Preacher's Bride Claim\The Soldier's Secrets\Wyoming Promises (43 page)

No, she couldn't live like this. She had to run!

But she could hear Maxwell's last words before she'd run from the tent, mocking her desire to escape.
Don't think I can't send word to New York and make your mother pay the price.

She could see no way out of the situation, no solution but to stay with Maxwell and marry him after the Land Rush. She would remain until she heard of her mother's death, and then she would find a way to disappear so completely that he'd never find her.

Chapter Twenty

T
he response to Elijah's request for prayer for “a matter known to the Lord” was everything he could have hoped for. Every one of his long-term attendees came up to assure him that they'd be praying and most of the newer ones, too.

“You've been praying for us and our dreams, Reverend,” Cordelia Ferguson said, pumping his hand fervently. “The least we can do is pray for you.”

“Well, it's not for me exactly,” Elijah told her carefully, “but thank you. I know your prayers will be heard.”

He couldn't help but hear her sister, Carrie's, overloud whisper as the two siblings walked away, though. “
I
think it's a matter of the heart, don't you? Think it has something to do with Miss Alice no longer coming to chapel?”

He winced inwardly and fretted over his transparency all the way to his campsite. There he found his brothers checking saddle cinches for signs of wear, part of their preparations for Monday. It could be fatal to have a cinch break as one of them was galloping along in the midst of other racing horses and careering wagons. He'd be thrown down into the path of the stampede.

“Find any problems?” Elijah asked Gideon when he saw his brother set aside his saddle.

“No, it should get you there all right,” Gideon said. “Your bay's legs and hooves are fine, too, no problems.”

“Appreciate you checking.”

Clint looked up from the saddle he was looking over. “Lars was just here. He thought we ought to know what all of you have been praying for.”

Even if we're not exactly praying men ourselves
was the unspoken finish to that sentence.

“We just wanted you to know we're behind you all the way, brother,” Clint added. “If you can think of anything we can do to help Alice, we'll do it.”

“We sure will,” Gideon put in. “Though I think the simplest solution would be to go over to that Eastern dude's tent, knock the stuffing out of him and tie his ears into a bowknot.”

“Don't worry, Lije, we know you wouldn't want us doing that,” Clint assured him.

Elijah couldn't help but smile at the image, however. “That's just the trouble,” he said. “I want to do exactly that myself and let you two mop up what's left.” He was quiet for a moment. “All I need from Alice is the slightest hint that this man isn't what she wants. Any little sign would be enough...”

He decided he'd ride out onto the prairie tomorrow, when there was nothing going on at the chapel, and pray until he couldn't pray anymore. Jesus had always retreated into a solitary place when He'd needed to seek His Father, hadn't He?

* * *

Maxwell had been on his best behavior in the past two days since he'd slapped her. He couldn't have been more attentive or more thoughtful. Last night he'd presented her with an engagement ring, an ornate ruby set in a gold band. Alice could barely repress a shudder when he'd slipped it over her finger. To her the stone looked too much like blood.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” he enthused, beaming at her.

“Thank you, Maxwell,” she said automatically, glad that he didn't notice she was gazing anywhere but at the jewel.

“If you think that's something, just wait till you see your wedding ring I had commissioned to go with it,” he boasted. “Solid gold, wide, engraved on the inside.”

With what?
she wanted to ask.
Property of Maxwell Peterson?

She was too well aware, after treating the injuries of scores of abused women, that such sweet behavior didn't presage a permanent change of character. The monster inside Maxwell was still lurking, to return again someday soon.

“So what would you like to do today, my sweet? Shall we go for a ride? Horst found a fellow willing to rent out his surrey and pair—that would be different. Better protection for that lovely peaches-and-cream complexion of yours, eh?”

“I believe it's too hot,” she murmured. She'd happened to look out of Maxwell's tent just in time to see Elijah riding past, clearly headed for the prairie. The last thing she wanted to happen was to run into him out there. Then she thought of something she
did
want to do. Did she dare ask? Was he still contrite enough after hitting her?

“Maxwell, there's something I
would
like to do tomorrow, however,” she said.

“Oh? What's that, my dear? You have but to name it,” he proclaimed in his grand manner.

“Tomorrow's Sunday, and it's the last service at the chapel. I'd really love to go and see my friends one last time. I'm sure it's not likely I'll ever see them again after the Land Rush on Monday. Come with me, Maxwell,” she added, and saw the expansive, genial expression fade.

“No. Anything but that.”

She knew he didn't mean “anything” literally. In fact, he wasn't liable to agree to anything now.

“All right,” she said, as if it didn't matter. “I think I'll go lie down for a bit. I didn't sleep very well last night.”

She knew Horst would be stationed outside her tent “in case she needed anything”—or tried to walk away.

* * *

It had been a full day, beginning with the final Sunday chapel service, in which there had been much laughter and not a few tears. Despite Elijah's inner turmoil about Alice, he'd kept the sermon light, encouraging and brief, and had ended it with an invitation for anyone who wished to help him and his brothers found a new town and a new church to head for the south bank of the Cimarron near a boulder that jutted out of the river. Whether they ultimately settled there or elsewhere, he thanked the entire congregation for their support and fellowship.

In his benediction, Elijah blessed them, praying for safety on the morrow during the Land Rush, and prosperity and happiness to all those who would become new homesteaders in the former Unassigned Territories.

After the service, the men of the congregation—joined by Gideon and Clint—took down the big tent that had served as the walls and roof for this body of faithful Christians and folded it up. It would be packed away on the Thornton brothers' wagon, to serve as the temporary new church until one could be built. While the men worked, the women readied a potluck lunch, and the children played.

Before the meal, they gathered in a circle over the bare patch of earth that had been the floor of their chapel and joined hands while Elijah said grace.

Elijah had just said “Amen” when Cordelia Ferguson spoke up. “Reverend, you didn't mention it in the service, but did you get an answer yet to that matter we prayed about?”

“Not yet, Sister Cordelia,” he had to admit. “I spent several hours yesterday sitting amid the tall grass of the prairie, praying about that very same matter and listening for the Lord's voice. I don't have an answer yet, but I will tell you He sent His peace flooding over my heart.”

“That's good, Reverend,” her sister, Carrie, piped up, “but I don't s'pose it would hurt any to pray about it once more, while we're all still in a prayer circle.”

Gratitude and other churning emotions made his throat feel thick and his eyes sting with unshed tears. “I think that would be fine, Sister Carrie. Why don't you start the prayer? And anyone who feels led can join in.” He didn't trust his voice not to break.

When would the Lord answer his pleas regarding Alice? he wondered as Carrie began to pray. As he'd said, he had felt the Lord's peace yesterday, yes, but was it a peace that came in spite of painful circumstances or the peace that heralded the promise of an answer? Answers always came, he knew, but sometimes the answer was “No” and sometimes “Not yet.”

Lord, please give me patience while I wait on Your perfect timing.

While folks picnicked, they talked of the homes they planned to build. Some would erect temporary “soddies”—small dwellings built out of blocks of sod cut from the prairie—to be lived in until a more permanent frame or log cabin could be built; others would continue to live in tents and start building their houses right away. Those who planned to farm rather than dwell in the new town and start businesses had the added need to quickly plow up the sod on part of their 160 acres and start crops. They were getting a late start, so they had to plant crops that would grow quickly and provide food for themselves and their livestock through the first winter.

Elijah knew the new church would be started only when its members had built their own dwellings, so services were likely to be held under the tent for quite a while. Fortunately, however, Oklahoma had later and usually milder winters than many of those who had come to settle it were used to.

Those with big families had a distinct advantage in building their homes and “sodding off” their land to plant crops, but those who weren't married or were just starting their families promised to pitch in and help each other. Farming veterans freely offered to advise those who were new at it. Cane and sorghum were the crops to plant, they said, as well as a kitchen garden to feed the family, of course.

“You're planning to farm and raise livestock, too, aren't you, Lars?” Elijah asked the big Dane, who was sitting next to him. “Near us, if it's possible?”

“
Ja,
of course. And someday I hope to have a wife and children to help. Meanwhile, I am glad my sister is with me for now.”

“And Katrine? What are her plans?” Elijah inquired. He couldn't picture the beautiful Katrine living with her brother and his family forever.

Lars shrugged. “She has not said. But of course I would wish for her that she finds a good man and has a blessed, happy life with him and the children they will have. But my sister's husband must be a godly man,
ja?
It is something we both value.”

Elijah nodded. “Yes, the Bible does indicate Christians should marry those of their faith.”

Was there a veiled message in Lars's words?
Elijah had thought Katrine might suit Clint at one time, but if Clint never returned to faith, it sounded as if there'd be no blessing from Katrine's brother for such a match. What Clint did was up to him. Elijah knew he could only serve as an example.

And where would Alice settle? The question bubbled up in his head like a wellspring. Or would the pushy New Yorker who'd come to claim her talk her into going back East?

He didn't have long to ponder before someone posed another question.

“What will you call this new town, Reverend?” The question came from Winona, who was sitting with the Gilberts nearby, as were Gideon and Clint.

The question took him by surprise. “I confess I hadn't given it any thought, Winona. I guess I figured some name would occur to us when we got there, right, brothers?”

They nodded. Elijah turned back to the Cheyenne woman. “Are you familiar with the area, as Lars is? Do you have any suggestions?” He wouldn't be averse to a Cheyenne place-name, he thought, to reflect the Indian heritage of their part of Oklahoma. The red man had been here long before the white settlers.

She nodded. “Yes, I have been to this place of which Lars speaks. We call it by Cheyenne words that mean ‘Brave Rock,' for this boulder stands tall at the edge of the river, never changing, no matter if the river is full with the rains of spring or its level drops in heat of summer.”

“Brave Rock,” Clint murmured. “I like the sound of that.”

Gideon nodded his agreement. “I think we've got a town name, Lije.”

Later, when the congregation had dispersed to their campsites to complete their packing and anticipate tomorrow, Clint turned to Elijah. “Feel up to a little more work, Lije? Mrs. Murphy promised us food for our suppers if we helped them take down their tent.
And
one of her ginger cakes. You're not getting overtired, are you?”

“I think it's been long enough that you can stop coddling me, with—” He stopped, realizing he'd been about to say, “with Alice's blessing.” He'd always assumed Alice would be present during this final day's events, and on the next day when everyone lined up at the border and awaited the noon rifle shot signal.

Alice...

“Sure, if she's offering ginger cake, I'm in,” he said. The busier he stayed, the better.

* * *

“Is that everything?” Elijah asked, as Clint loaded one more rope-bound parcel inside the wagon that evening after supper.

“Yep, everything we can pack before morning, anyway,” Gideon said. “Since the Land Rush isn't starting till noon, we'll have plenty of time to get dressed, have breakfast and strike our tent in the morning.”

It sounded like way too much time to kill to Elijah. He wished the rifle shot was to sound at dawn. He felt like a bedspring with a hundred-pound weight on it, anticipating being released to its full height. There was entirely too much time to keep him from impulsively going to Alice and trying once more to get the truth of whether or not she was with Peterson against her will. He still couldn't believe she had actually
chosen
to put herself under his thumb. This was 1889 America, not medieval Europe. Women were not chattel. Why, in Wyoming, they could even vote.