The Shepherd's Voice (6 page)

He didn’t reply.

“Your father turned you out.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” He didn’t sound surprised.

“What will you do now?” Jane asked, her tone gentle.

“I’ll move on. Nobody in Ransom will give me work, even if they had it to give. They wouldn’t dare. You know it, same as me.” Gabe withdrew his hand, turned his back to the wagon. “Hud’s won, Miss Jane. We knew he would.”

“I’ll give you work,” Akira said. “If you want it.”

Gabe’s shoulders rose and fell, indicating the drawing in of a deep breath and the supervening, silent release. Then he faced her. “You have no idea what you’re saying, Miss Macauley.”

“I’ve got plenty of work at Dundreggan.”

“You hired two men this morning.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Miss Macauley —”

“The Lord brought you here for a purpose, Mr. Talmadge. There’s a reason He caused our paths to cross.”

At one time, Gabe might have believed the same thing. But that was long, long ago. Before he’d listened to his father. Before he’d wandered far from the truth.

“I doubt that,” he said. “God has better things to do than care about my comings and goings. He’s washed His hands of me.”

“No!”
Akira exclaimed. “God doesn’t wash His hands of people. His love is everlasting.”

He frowned. “You’ll only bring trouble on yourself if you try to help me. Ask Miss Jane what happened to her on account of me.”

“I’m not afraid.” Akira stiffened her back, defiantly lifted her chin. Her blue-green eyes swirled with emotion.

“And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb,” he quipped.

The corners of her mouth curved in a smile.

It wasn’t the response for which he’d hoped. He’d meant his
words as a warning. He’d meant for her to understand he was like the wolf. The wolf could devour the lamb, and Gabe’s presence could destroy Akira.

Jane spoke into the lengthening silence. “Stay, Gabe. Stop running.”

Stop running. Stand still and let the darkness overtake him. It was what he deserved. The end result was inevitable. Did it matter
where
it happened? Wasn’t Ransom, Idaho, as good a place as any?

FOUR

The cabin was only one room, but it had a stove for heating and cooking, a comfortable mattress on the bed, and a sturdy table with two wooden chairs. Cobwebs swung from the ceiling, wispy reminders of disuse. Dirty windows, bare of curtains, muted the daylight entering through the glass. A pile of dried leaves and pine needles were heaped in a corner, as if swept there and then forgotten.

“No one’s used these quarters in years,” Akira said from the door way.

Gabe turned. He could have told her it seemed a palace after the places he’d lived. “It’ll do fine.”

“I’ll bring you a broom, bedding, pots and pans and such.” She pointed with an outstretched arm. “There’s a pump between this cabin and the one the Wickhams are using. The outhouse is behind their place.” A small frown puckered her brow. “Can’t think of anything else you need to know right off. ‘Cept supper will be about five o’clock.”

“I don’t expect you to cook for me, Miss Macauley.”

An amused twinkle lit her eyes. “And you shouldn’t. But tonight we’ll all eat together—you, me, the Wickhams, and Brodie.”

Why are you doing this?
he wondered as she gave him another smile.

“I’ll get you the broom. This room’s not going to clean itself.” With that, she turned and left.

Suddenly weary, Gabe settled onto one of the chairs, unmindful of the accumulation of dust on the seat.

He gazed around the interior. The room was spacious. Almost too spacious. Even four years after leaving prison, he still wasn’t used to unrestricted movement. He often found himself waiting for an angry voice to ring in his ears or a strong hand to clamp onto his shoulder.

You heard your little brother died
,
didn’t you?

Gabe winced at the intrusion in his mind.

You figured I was getting old and there’d be no more sons for me after Leon. You thought you’d return
,
like a dog to its vomit
,
to inherit what I’ve built.

It was no less than Gabe had expected from Hudson. The words shouldn’t have stung. Yet they did.

Get out. You’ll get nothing from me.

He closed his eyes, rubbed his face with his hands. A man learned a lot of tricks while locked in an eight-foot cell. One was how to turn off his thoughts, to silence the voices in his head.

“So ye’ve come back.”

Gabe looked up to find Brodie Lachlan standing in the doorway.

“Ye’ll work and work hard as long as ye’re here. Ye’ll do as ye’re told or move along.” The Scotsman pointed at him. “And if ye ever hurt the wee lass, I’ll break ye in two with my bare hands. Have we an understandin’?”

Gabe nodded.

“Good.” Brodie turned on his crutches and disappeared from view.

Do as he was told? That was easy. That was what he was used to. It was the freedom to choose that confused him.

“It’s not a sick body troubling him, Lord,” Akira said as she leaned a broom against the kitchen table. “It’s a crushed spirit, and Your word says no one can bear that.”

She stacked a pot and a frying pan on the table beside some dishes.

“I suppose that’s why You sent him. So his spirit can mend. I know Your purpose prevails, no matter what plans we make. I’d be pleased if You’d tell me what I’m to do beyond giving him work and a place to stay.”

She paused, glanced upward, then closed her eyes.

“And, Lord, I could use some help in having generous thoughts toward Hudson Talmadge. You say I’m to love my enemies, but that’s harder to do than I ever thought it would be.”

She felt a stab of longing for her grandfather. She could use some of his wisdom about now. Fergus Macauley had been a shrewd judge of character, a man of uncommon discernment. He’d been strong but gentle, and he had a faith to move mountains. She’d learned so much from him. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Ye’ve done it now, haven’t ye, lass?”

She opened her eyes to find Brodie staring at her, his large frame filling the doorway.

“He’s a Talmadge. He’ll only bring more hardship upon ye.”

“Did you know him as a boy?”

“I knew
of
him.” The tone of his voice said more than his words. “He’s from bad seed, that one.”

Her chest tightened. Sudden tears stung her eyes. “I don’t believe that, Brodie.”

“Ye’ve no knowledge of men and the evil they do, lass. Ye’re like a lamb for the slaughter.”

She remembered Gabe saying much the same thing.

And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb.

She’d smiled at the time. She was fairly certain he hadn’t known he was quoting from the book of Isaiah, but
she’d
known
.
She’d known and understood it was God telling her she was doing the right thing.

“Brodie, the Shepherd protects His lambs. I’m not afraid.”

“Ye haven’t the sense to be afraid.”

She laughed softly. “Thank you.”

“Ach!”
He glared at her a few moments more, then left.

“The wolf shall
dwell
with the lamb, my friend,” she whispered. “Not devour it.”

Hudson rose from his chair. “Are you certain?”

“Yes sir,” Rupert answered. “Quite certain. I followed them all the way back to the Macauley woman’s ranch.”

Hudson flicked his wrist, indicating he wanted to be left alone. Rupert was swift to obey the gesture.

The instant the door closed, his fury erupted. “Blast her!” He hurled a paperweight across the room and bellowed a lengthy string of curses.

Wasn’t it bad enough Clarice’s spurious offspring carried the Talmadge name? Now Gabe had joined forces with Akira Macauley. As if to spite him.

Well, they didn’t know with whom they were dealing. They wouldn’t outfox Hudson Talmadge. He would destroy them. He would destroy them both.

Clarice’s image flashed momentarily in his mind.
You know it isn’t true, Hudson. I’ve never wronged you. Never. I love you.

He cursed again, kicked over his desk chair, then strode out of his office.

Pity the first person who looked at him wrong.

There was something to be said for hard work. Especially when there was no one standing over his back threatening to do him bodily harm if he didn’t move fast enough or talk right or commit any number of other infractions.

Gabe stood back and studied the cabin from wood floor to rafters. It had taken him the better part of the day, but he was satisfied with the results. The room was as clean as it could get.

It’ll make a good home.
He released a mirthless grunt at the passing thought. He didn’t have a home. Had never had a home, if truth be known. This was a stopping place, a temporary sanctuary.