The Shepherd's Voice (29 page)

As his words faded into silence, he kissed her on the mouth, not with passion but with gentle adoration.

“I love you, Akira, and I’m grateful for the love you showed toward me when I was far from deserving.” He drew back again, caressing her face with his gaze. “You’ve been an example of Christ’s love toward me from the first moment we met.”

“Oh, Gabe.” She touched his bearded jaw, thinking she rather liked the way it made him look. “Gabriel, a strong man of God.”

“Akira,” he echoed softly. “My anchor.”

For a short while, they stood in silence, looking into the other’s eyes.

Then Gabe smiled, and so did she.

“I’ve lots more to tell you,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice, “but I can’t remember what it is. It went clear out of my head when I kissed you.”

“I have things to tell you too.”

He drew her close again. “Let’s let the talking wait until later. All I want to do now is hold you.” He rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m going to be a different man from this day forward. A better man. I promise you that.”

She nodded, deciding it could wait until later to tell him about the baby. She was content for now simply to love and be loved by this man, her husband, her heart.

Rupert had a great deal to report after Hudson’s lengthy absence. Seated in a leather-upholstered chair before the large cherry wood desk in Hudson’s study, he rifled through a stack of papers, reeling off figures and names associated with his many business ventures.

Hudson wasn’t pleased with what he’d heard thus far. It seemed his life had been spiraling downward ever since summer.

He rubbed one hand across his face. “Yes, yes,” he said, interrupting Rupert. “I’ve heard enough. You can leave all that with me to look over later.”

“Yes sir.”

“What about Gabe and that Peck fellow? Any further altercations?”

“No sir.”

“Too bad. What do you know about Danny Peck?”

“He does odd jobs for whoever will hire him. Drinks whatever he earns, which doesn’t seem to be much. He’s not well thought of around town.”

“How old a man is he?”

“Younger than Gabe, I’d guess.”

There had to be some way he could take advantage of the bad blood between the two men, Hudson thought.

“Gabe hasn’t been seen in town since the barn dance,” Rupert continued. “He seems to have quit coming to church. At least Mrs. Talmadge hasn’t reported him being there.”

“Pauline’s still going?”

“Yes sir. Regular as clockwork.”

“Hmm.” He glanced toward the closed door to his study.

“Sheriff Newton went out to the ranch for Gabe’s last parole report.”

Hudson muttered an oath. That blasted sheriff! What gave him the right to interfere?

Rupert cleared his throat. “I believe the sheriff is recommending the parole be discharged once again. He … ah … he seems to believe there was an error made. Because of the reversal, I mean.”

“An error.” That ever-present anger began to heat his chest. “An error? By heaven, is a murder so easily forgotten these days? Does he get off scot-free for killing my eldest son?”

“Gabe did serve ten years, sir,” Rupert answered quietly.

The comment was met with stunned silence. Then, with a sudden sweep of his arm, Hudson knocked everything within reach off the top of his desk.

“Ten
years
!” He rose to his feet, shouting, “Ten years is nothing! Max is dead, and Gabe is responsible for it. Those idiots on the parole board had better not go back on our agreement or I’ll —”

The study door opened. “Hudson?” Pauline took two steps into the room, then stopped, looking from him to Rupert and back again. “What happened?”

“None of your business,” Hudson snapped. “Get out!”

She paled but didn’t move.

“Did you hear me, woman?” He moved toward her, his fist raised. “Get out!”

She fled as if pursued by demons.

Breathing hard, Hudson continued to stare down the hallway, fighting for control over his fury.

“Sir?”

“What is it?” He turned.

“Mrs. Talmadge was out at the ranch … at Dundreggan … again. Earlier this week. She … she seems to have formed a friendship
with Gabe’s wife. At least, that’s what Eugene called it. A friendship.”

Had Pauline betrayed him too, like the sheriff? Would she dare? Surely not.

“Go on home, Carruthers. We’ll talk more tomorrow. Be in the office by seven. I’ll want an early start.”

“Yes sir,” Rupert replied, a quaver in his voice.

Cowardly little weasel of a man.

At the moment, Hudson couldn’t think of one good reason why he’d kept Rupert Carruthers as his secretary all these years.

With the coming of night and the burning down of the fire in the stove, the house had cooled. But Gabe barely noticed it as he lay in bed, holding his wife in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. He loved the way she fit so perfectly against him. He loved the softness of her skin and the sweet fragrance of her hair.

If he died tonight, he would die a contented man.

How amazing! How his life had changed in a matter of months. It wasn’t so long ago he’d slept beneath railroad bridges, clothed in little better than rags, eating whatever he could beg or scrounge. Before that, he’d known only the loneliness of a prison cell and the scorn of his guards.

Thank You.
He kissed the crown of Akira’s head.
Thank You, God.

“Last Monday,” she said.

“Last Monday what?” He kissed her forehead.

“Gabriel Talmadge, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been telling you?”

“Of course.”

“Liar.”

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled as he hugged her closer. “I’ll repent tomorrow.”

“It isn’t funny, Gabe. I was telling you about Pauline.”

He released a groan.

“That’s unkind.”

“I know, but I don’t want to talk about —”

“She accepted Christ. You should be rejoicing. The angels in heaven are.”

“Mmm.”

Akira drew back and raised herself on one elbow. “It was real, Gabe. I prayed with her.”

“I believe you,” he said, stubbornly drawing her head to his shoulder once again.

She acquiesced, and for a long while after that, they lay in silence.

Gabe slowly stroked his fingers over her cascading hair, enjoying the silky feel of it against his work-roughened hands. Sleep and pleasant dreams tugged at him.

“I’ll be glad when winter is behind us,” Akira whispered, adding, “Spring is my favorite time of year.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s a time of new things. Puppies and kittens. Lambs and colts and calves. Life renewed throughout the land. Trees dressed in green leaves and wildflowers blooming.” She sighed. “But next spring will be the best spring of all.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m glad our baby will be born then.”

“Mmm … me, too.” His eyes flew open. “Wait. What did you say?”

“I said, I’m glad our baby will be born then. In the spring.”

He sat up, slipping his arm from beneath her head. He turned
toward the lamp on the nightstand, found the matches beside it, struck one and lit the wick. With the room bathed in light, he turned again to his wife. She was smiling the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

She nodded. “In the spring. Around the first of June, I think.”

“You’re sure?”

She laughed softly. “I’m sure.” She sat up too. “You’re pleased, then?”

“Pleased?” He whispered the word, knowing it didn’t begin to describe it, knowing he lacked the vocabulary to properly say what he felt.

She touched the side of his face. “How good the Lord has been to me. How great are His blessings to His daughter.”

And to me, God.
He pulled her close.
More than I could ever have hoped or dreamed.

“We ought to have an automobile,” Gabe announced the next morning at breakfast.

Akira set before him a plate of scrambled eggs, fried bacon, and toast slathered with melting butter. “Horses have served us well up to now.”

“You’ve never been pregnant before.”

“True.” She smiled as she settled onto her chair, the proposed car forgotten as thoughts of the baby intruded.

Gabe wasn’t giving up that easily. “We’re too far away from town or another ranch. We don’t have a telephone. What if there was an emergency? We need a car at Dundreggan.”

“There’s the Wickhams’ truck. They’ve said we can use it whenever we wish.”

“We can’t depend on that truck. It only runs about half the
time. Besides, what if they decide to move on, maybe look for work in another sawmill?”

“Has Mr. Wickham or Mark said they want to leave? Nora hasn’t mentioned a word to me about it.”

“No. Nobody’s said anything. I was just supposing.”

She released a sigh. “Thank God. Charlie and Mark have proven to be good shepherds, and they get along so well with Brodie.”

“I still say we need an automobile of our own,” Gabe persisted, not allowing her to change the subject. “I know you don’t have a lot of cash set aside —”

“We.
We
don’t have a lot of cash set aside.”

“We,” he agreed, giving her a quick smile. “But I was thinking, there’s got to be some broken-down vehicles around this valley somewhere. I could probably buy one cheap, then get it running again. I know a few things about engines. I used to work with my brother on his Coupelet.”

She loved the note of confidence in his voice. Not for the world would she do anything to change it. “If you think we should, then we should.”

“I’ll ask a few folks at church on Sunday.” He speared some eggs with his fork. “Winter’s coming fast. I’ll need to find a car and get to work on it as soon as I can. The roads won’t be easy to travel before long.”