The Shepherd's Voice (37 page)

Gabe noticed the Talmadge automobile parked on the street, so he wasn’t surprised when he saw Pauline inside the store. After nodding a greeting at Dorothea, he wended his way through the shelves and display tables to where she was seated.

“Hello, Pauline.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. And he knew, as he looked into her wide eyes, it wasn’t mere surprise that caused her to start.

It was fear. Real fear.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She shook her head, her gaze darting beyond him. He suspected she was checking to see who else was in the store.

“I’m sorry for the scene at your house last Sunday,” Gabe began. “Akira and I both hoped it would make things somewhat better between my father and me, finding out he’s going to be a grandfather. We were wrong.”

“Yes.” She rose from her chair. “I … I’m glad for you both. About the baby.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope she has an easy confinement.”

Gabe had often thought the worst of Pauline Talmadge, but now what he felt was an overriding concern. She was nervous as a cat.

“I’d best be going,” she said softly. “Do give Akira my best.”

She started to walk past him, but he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. She gasped—an unmistakable sound of pain. He immediately released her, at the same time stepping into her path.

“What happened?” he demanded, again making sure only she could hear.

“Nothing, Gabe. Let me pass.”

Then he knew. “He hit you. Didn’t he?”

She neither confirmed nor denied it.

Even after all the years, Gabe remembered the feel of the back of his father’s hand as it connected with his jaw.

“Don’t go back there, Pauline.”

“Where else would I go?”

“What about your parents? Aren’t they in Boise? You could go to them.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she mouthed the word, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

This time she nodded.

“I know what Hud’s like. He knocked me around plenty when I was a boy. I thought if I took it, if I was strong, if I tried harder to earn his respect or do what he wanted me to do, things would get better. They never did.” He moved to one side. “If you need me, all you’ve got to do is send word and I’ll come. All right?”

“All right,” she whispered before hurrying away.

He hoped he hadn’t made another mistake, letting her go.

“You have no choice, Mr. Talmadge,” Rupert said as he placed the open ledger on Hudson’s desk. “The mill will have to be closed.” He took a step back. “The longer you delay, the worse the end result will be. It will be hard on the remaining employees but —”

“Hang the remaining employees!” Hudson shouted. “Do you think I care about any of them? Do you think I care about
you?”

Rupert’s face was perfectly expressionless.

Hudson slammed the ledger closed, then rose and turned to the window. “Shut down the mill. Send everyone home now.”

“Yes sir.”

“And, Carruthers …”

“Yes sir?”

“Inform them all the payroll money was lost in the bank closure. There’ll be no final paychecks.”

“But, sir, it wasn’t —”

“I think I made myself clear, Carruthers. See to it.”

“Yes sir.” The only sound that followed was the soft click of the closing office door.

So much. How had he lost so much?

He was too old to start over. He’d given his life to acquiring his fortune. He’d worked hard. He’d gambled. He’d cheated. The
only thing that had mattered to him was his wealth and the power that came with it.

The love of money will destroy you
,
Hudson. Please. There’s a better way.

He placed his fists against the window frame and pressed his forehead against the glass. He closed his eyes, at the same time trying to silence the voice from his past. He hadn’t believed Clarice when she’d said those words to him. He wasn’t about to believe her now.

Money meant power, and power was everything.

Jesus won’t tarry forever. There will be a day of reckoning. Don’t wait until it’s too late. Please don’t wait.

Looking out the window again, Hudson swore at the God he didn’t believe in, blaming Him for all that had gone wrong in his life.

TWENTY-SIX

Ten days after the amputation of her leg, Lindy Jones arrived at Dundreggan, brought there by Dr. Kirkland and his wife. Akira and Gabe had prepared the small cabin next to the Wickhams’—the one Gabe had used before their marriage—for the Jones family. It was there Gabe carried Lindy while the doctor spoke to Akira.

“I’m amazed by her progress, Mrs. Talmadge,” Dr. Kirkland told her, “but she isn’t out of danger yet. She’ll need plenty of rest and good nourishment. And exercise. She hates the crutches, but if she wants to return to that mountain home of hers, she’d better learn to use them. Inactivity will only slow the healing process. I can’t stress that enough.”

“I’ll do what I can to encourage her.”

“Good.” Dr. Kirkland nodded, then glanced at the sky. “We’d better get over the pass before the snow starts to fall again. I’d hate to get caught in a blizzard.”

“It was kind of you to bring Mrs. Jones to us. Gabe hoped he’d have the Ford running by now, but —”

“Don’t mention it.” He opened the automobile door and got in. “Unless the roads are bad, I’ll be over this way next Saturday to look in on her.”

“Thanks again, Doctor. Have a happy Thanksgiving.”

“The same to all of you.” He closed the door, then waved at her through the window before starting the engine and driving away.

Pulling her coat more closely about her, Akira hurried into the cabin. Gabe was standing near the entrance. Lindy was in bed, her back propped with pillows, the children on either side of her, holding her hands.

“Cain’t say thanks enough for what you done for me ’n mine,” she said to Akira the instant the door closed. “Like I was tellin’ your man here, I ain’t been a party to such kindness before. Always made do on my own since Ned passed. Reckon you know how it is. I know it cain’t have been easy, takin’ in my young ’uns.”

“We were glad to do it.”

“They been good, I hope?” Lindy looked from Akira to Fern and then to Ethan, questioning her children with her eyes.

The boy turned his gaze on the floor. His neck flamed beet red.

Gabe stepped to Akira’s side. “We got along fine, Mrs. Jones. Ethan’s been helping me tend the livestock, and Fern’s helped Akira with the cooking.”

Lindy touched the boy’s shoulder. “That true, Ethan?”

“Mostly, Ma.”

“We’ll leave the three of you alone,” Akira said. “You rest and don’t worry about a thing.”

Lindy sighed. “I am a mite tuckered out.”

“Ethan,” Gabe said. “You come for me if your mother needs anything.”

“Yes sir.” There was less belligerence in his voice than in the past. Perhaps even a note of gratitude.

Snow had begun to fall while they were inside—fat, wet flakes
forming a curtain of white in the air, a curtain that would soon become a heavy blanket over the earth.

Akira turned her face upward. “Oh, isn’t it beautiful?”

Gabe put his right arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to his side. “Yes,” he answered, but he wasn’t looking at the snowfall. He was looking at her.

“Listen.”

He did. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.” She grinned at him. “Total and absolute silence. Peace.” She closed her eyes, whispering, “‘Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.’”

“Amen.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “We have so much to be thankful for, Gabriel. So very, very much.”

He was unable to reply, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of blessings God had poured out upon him. Unmerited blessings.

There’d been a time, not long ago, that recognizing how unmerited those blessings were would have left him weighed down beneath a heavy load of guilt. But no longer. It only left him rejoicing, amazed at the goodness and mercy of his loving heavenly Father.

The prodigal did come home
,
didn’t he
,
Lord? I came home to You
,
and You welcomed me with gifts and celebrations and a Father’s love. The love I longed for and couldn’t find from my earthly father.

As if reading his thoughts, Akira lifted her head and met his gaze, then nodded in agreement.

They started walking toward the main house, but before they reached the front porch, they heard the telltale sounds of an approaching automobile.

“Two visitors in one day?” Akira peered through the tumbling snowflakes. “And in this weather.”

A few moments later, the sheriff s car came into view.

Gabe couldn’t help the momentary spark of dread. It was a conditioned response, and one he wasn’t particularly proud of. Especially since he now considered the sheriff a friend.

Andy exited the automobile, placing his hat on his head as he straightened. “Afternoon, Gabe. Akira.” His breath formed a tiny white cloud before his mouth.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” Akira responded. “You look like you could use some hot coffee. Come inside. I’ve got a pot on the stove.”

“Thanks.” He strode forward.

Akira led the way to the house, but Gabe hung back.

“Is something wrong?” he asked in a low voice when the sheriff reached his side.

Andy shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary,” he answered obliquely.

Gabe gave him a hard stare.

“Three more families left Ransom this week. The Logger’s Cafe is closed, and Mrs. Baker’s been told she won’t be needed at the dry-goods store after the New Year.” Andy shook his head. “Plenty of folks are afraid of what’ll happen next. Tempers are flaring. I broke up two fights last night outside the bar. I’ve got Peck cooling his heels in my jail cell today.”

Gabe gritted his teeth. He didn’t like Danny Peck and hadn’t been able to forgive him for his attack on Akira. Oh, he’d mouthed the words of forgiveness in prayer, but he knew he hadn’t released it in his heart. Not yet.

After stepping into the house, the two men shrugged out of their coats and hung them on pegs near the door. The sheriff removed his hat, and Gabe took it from him, setting it on a small table beneath the window.

Akira turned from the stove, steaming mugs of coffee in her hands. “Would you like cream or sugar, Sheriff?”

“No thanks. Black’s fine.”

They all sat at the table, silently sipping their beverages, listening to the crackling and popping of wood burning in the stove.