It was close to two in the morning when she gave up trying to sleep. After rising from the bed, she grabbed a shawl to put around her shoulders and went outside onto the porch. The night air was surprisingly warm for this early in June, and a first-quarter moon frosted the barnyard in a white light. She sank onto a wooden chair and waited for an answer to her worries to present itself.
Timothy Trent, the rancher who’d bought Sage-hen cows for the past nine or ten years, was a fair man. He’d always paid Angus well for the cattle that he then shipped to market with his own. There was no reason to believe he wouldn’t give her fair market value this year as he had last. But even if she received top dollar, the herd would have to be cut by more than half if she was to have enough money to pay her taxes.
If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him
.
As the Bible verse whispered in her heart, she caught her breath. Had she asked God for wisdom? Or had she been too busy telling the Lord how she expected Him to arrange things for her? What if it was His will for her to leave Sage-hen? Could she accept that? Oh, but surely that wasn’t His answer. It
couldn’t
be His answer. Not after all she’d gone through. Not now. She’d worked hard and prayed hard. She’d set her mind on rejoicing at all times, on praising Him. She’d tried to do all that He asked of her. Surely she
deserved
to keep the ranch. Surely He would provide the means for her to stay.
How could His will be otherwise? Her babies were buried here. Her only friends lived on the neighboring farm. This ranch had been her home and her world for all of her adult life. How would she survive if forced to leave? She knew no other way to make a living. She had no skills or expertise that would recommend her to an employer.
Like my mother before me
.
With that thought came another fear. Fear that she would find herself living as her mother had lived, doing the work her mother had done, perhaps still did.
“There isn’t any sin the blood of Christ cannot cover,” Reverend Adair had said to ten-year-old Julia as they sat next to one another in the church pew one weekday afternoon.
Julia squinted as she looked at the minister. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.” He leaned toward her. “The only thing that can separate us from God is if we reject the gift of salvation that Christ offers.”
That wasn’t what her classmates at school had told her. They’d said she was going to hell because her mother worked in the saloon,
because her mother did
bad things
. She didn’t know what those bad things were, but they must be
very
bad.
Julia hated school. She hated not having any friends. She hated being teased. She hated the way the teacher looked at her, the sour expression on the woman’s face, as if she had an awful taste in her mouth. But Mama was determined Julia would go to school, just as she was determined Julia would go to church on Sundays. Mama didn’t go to church so she didn’t understand that Julia wasn’t welcome there either. Leastwise, not by most folks. The reverend, though, was always nice to her.
“Would you like to pray with me, Julia, for Jesus to be your Savior? Would you like to ask God to be your heavenly Father?”
Julia’s eyes widened. “He’d do that? I don’t have a pa.”
“I know.” The reverend had smiled. “And yes, He will do that. All you need to do is ask Him.”
Hugh wasn’t sure what caused him to awaken, but at least it hadn’t been a nightmare. Thankfully, those had grown infrequent in the weeks he’d been at Sage-hen. Perhaps because he fell onto his cot so tired every night. Too tired to dream, good or bad. Or was it this place that gave him peace in the night? Would the nightmares return when he left the ranch in a couple of weeks?
Sitting on the side of his bed, he raked the fingers of both hands through his hair.
It frightened him a little, how at home he felt here. Perhaps because he hadn’t felt at home anywhere since his mother passed away nearly two decades ago. A crowded orphanage. A smoky passenger car on a train hurtling west. A stranger’s house on the Nebraskan prairie. Abandoned warehouses and rooms that smelled of garlic and sweat and cheap whiskey. A prison cell filled with despair.
And now Sage-hen.
And now Julia Grace. When he was with her, he felt … he felt … What? Like more of a man. Like a better man. Or at least like he wanted to be a better man.
He stood, pulled on trousers and shirt, and walked outside, hoping the fresh air would clear his head, rid him of the image of Julia, stop him from wanting … more. But instead of escaping thoughts of Julia, he discovered the living, breathing version of the woman.
As had happened once before in the middle of the night, her white nightgown caught the moonlight and gave her presence away. Unlike before, Hugh didn’t remain near the barn. He strode toward the house, the earth cool beneath his bare feet. Bandit lay near Julia’s chair and didn’t bother to rise at Hugh’s approach.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, stopping without climbing to the porch.
She pulled the dark shawl tighter. “No.”
“Me neither.” He turned and sat on the top step. “Pretty night.”
“Mmm.”
He looked upward. “Must be a million stars. Got to look at them through a telescope once.” He omitted the part about him being in a man’s home to take his valuables and had happened upon the telescope. “It was amazing. Some stars looked close enough to reach out and touch.”
Julia rose and walked to the porch railing where she leaned forward and looked up at the night sky. He didn’t turn his head, afraid if he did so she might retreat into the house.
After a lengthy silence, she said, “May I ask you something?”
“Sure.” He shrugged, not knowing if she looked at him or not. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask anything he wasn’t prepared to answer truthfully.
“How did you come to faith in Christ?”
He released a breath. This he could talk about without hesitation. “Reading the Bible.” The words were simple enough, the meaning behind them deeper, more profound. “A preacher gave it to me back in Chicago. I didn’t have anything else to read on the long trip west, so I read it. I was in Colorado when I began to understand what it was saying. You know. About grace and mercy. Something changed inside of me. Can’t explain it. Just know it happened. One minute I wasn’t a believer. The next I was. Born again, like Jesus said.”
“You don’t have to explain it, Hugh. I understand.”
Although hospitable and kind, Julia had kept up a barrier between them, a closed door that kept him from getting too close, to keep him from knowing her too well. Hugh couldn’t blame her. He had his own doors of protection. All the same, there was something about her words that indicated she’d cracked the door open.
Hugh felt encouraged. “What about you? Did you always believe?”
“No one’s born a Christian.” Her voice was laced with amusement.
The words caused him to twist on the step and look at her at last. Her long hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, silvered by the moonlight. The hem of the white nightgown brushed her ankles. Her feet, like his, were bare. For some reason, their bareness made him feel trusted.
She continued, “It was a minister in Grand Coeur where I grew up who told me about Jesus and how He would forgive my sins and that God wanted to be my father. I was sitting here, remembering, before you came out of the barn. I never knew my father, and so to know God would be that for me was very special.”
“How old were you when you were born again?”
“Ten.”
“Ten. I envy you.”
“Why?”
“Maybe if I’d known God in a meaningful way when I was a boy, I wouldn’t have made so many mistakes when I was older.”
“What sort of mistakes?”
He drew a breath and let it out. “Stupid ones.” The two words said a lot and nothing at all, but they were all he was willing to say.
“I’ve made my share of those,” she said softly. “Believing in God doesn’t mean we live perfectly, no matter how hard we try.”
Even in the darkness of night, he saw a sadness flit across her face that he would do almost anything to wipe away. If it were in his power, he would make certain sorrow was driven out and never approached her life again. But such a thing wasn’t in his power. It would never be in his power. Best he remember that.
He stood, feigned a yawn, then said, “Guess I’d better try to get some sleep. Dawn’ll be here before we know it.” He went down the steps. “Night, Julia.”
Softly, he heard her return, “Good night, Hugh.”
Perhaps it was because she’d told Hugh about Reverend Adair, but Julia couldn’t seem to shake memories of her childhood in Grand Coeur. And more specifically, memories of her mother. And so she sat at her writing desk in those wee hours of the morning and wrote another letter, praying with each stroke of the pen that this one wouldn’t be returned to her as so many others had been. She prayed her mother would read the letter and answer it and forgive her.
Madeline Crane
Paradise Saloon
Grand Coeur, Idaho
Dear Mother
,
It has been over three years since I last wrote to you. Over three years since that same letter was returned to me unopened, like the nine letters sent before it. I do not know if you will decide to read this one, but I have to try one more time. I have to try again to tell you I am sorry for blaming you for the way things used to be. I know you acted out of love for me. I didn’t always realize it, but I do now
.
Much has changed for me since the last time you received a letter of mine. Angus died more than a year ago. He took sick, running a high fever, then he got pneumonia in his lungs and died. It happened very fast. Just a few days. He was young and strong and no one expected him to die. Not even the doctor from Pine Creek
.
Because of the difficulty of my marriage, you might be surprised to learn that I have found contentment at Sage-hen Ranch. Yes, I remember the sad times, especially when I think of the babies I lost, but it was here also that my faith became strong. And so I hope to remain here
.
But that may not be possible. The taxes on the ranch are due soon, and while I expect to be able to pay them this year, it may not be possible the next. Angus’s brother wants the ranch and has offered to buy it from me, but I do not want to sell, which is probably foolish
.
I am not completely alone. There is a man who works for me at present, and there are my neighbors, Peter and Rose Collins. I wrote to you before about them. I am blessed to call them my friends
.
What of you, Mother? Five years is such a long time to go without a word. Are you well? Are you still at Madame Rousseau’s?
Even if you do not answer this letter, I am praying that you will read it and will forgive me at last for my harsh words written so long ago. I love you, and you are often in my thoughts and prayers
.
Your daughter
,
Julia Grace
Tears streaked her cheeks by the time she folded the paper and slipped it into an envelope.
“Please, God,” she whispered. “Let her read this one. Even if she never writes back, let her know I’m sorry.”
When Hugh left his room early Saturday morning, he missed stepping on one of the kittens by a mere inch or two. He wasn’t even sure how he saw the tiny orange ball of fur in the dim light.
“Hey there.”
He bent down, scooped it up with one hand, and brought it close. Its eyes were still closed, its ears still flattened to its head. He didn’t know much about felines, but he knew this one was too young to have made its way out of that stall on its own. It couldn’t walk yet. Which meant the mother cat must be relocating her litter.
“You’d think she’d want to stay where there’s food and water brought to her every day. Wouldn’t you?”
The kitten immediately began its high-pitched meowing. Hugh walked to the stall and looked in. The mother cat was nowhere to be seen, and only one kitten remained in the crate. It too had begun to yowl.
“You guys are sure noisy for being so little.”
He opened the stall gate and put the kitten with its sibling. Before he could turn to leave, the mother cat sailed over the top rail of the stall. Her paws landed in the straw, and immediately her back arched as she hissed at Hugh. Before he could react, he heard a soft laugh. A much prettier sound than the one the two kittens
were making. And heaven help him, he could get used to the sound of Julia’s laughter.
“I don’t think she likes you, Hugh.” Julia stepped through the open gate. Her face was hidden in shadows, but he could tell by her voice that she was smiling.
“I’m in her way. She’s busy moving her kittens.”
“Oh no. I was hoping she’d stay put. Where’s she taking them?”
“Not sure. She left that little orange one outside the door to my room. I almost stepped on it.”
“Ooooh.” She knelt in the straw and took up the kitten he’d set down moments before. “You poor baby.” She rubbed its back against her cheek. “I hope they’ll be all right while we’re gone on the cattle drive.”
“How soon will we go?”
She looked at him. “We’ll plan to begin the drive early on Wednesday. While we’re gone, Peter and one of his girls will come over a couple of times a day to see to the chickens and other livestock. And these little guys.” She put the kitten in the crate and stood. “If all goes as expected, we should be back by Friday night. Two days going. One to return.”
Back by Friday night. Then the work he was doing for her would be done. He should be glad to move on. He wasn’t.
As if reading his thoughts, she said, “You’ll probably want to give your horse some rest after the drive before you start out on another long trip. But I reckon you can leave by the following Monday.”
“Reckon so.” Nine days. Nine days and he would leave for Boise City. And he would miss Julia. He would miss seeing her at breakfast each morning and at supper each evening. He would miss her soft laughter and her gentle spirit. He would miss the love he saw in her eyes when she held little Jemima Collins, the tenderness
when she cradled the kittens in the palm of her hand. Not that she cared if he would miss her. Not that she should care.