My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (33 page)

A feather-light mist fell, and the air nipped through his coat as Gideon stomped forward. In the rising dawn, he saw Toby’s shanty in the distance. Jebediah walked at his side, gun in hand. Nearing the tiny house, Gideon slowed. The windows were dark. His boots beat against the steps, and he peeked in the window. Nothing. He banged on the door, unsure of what he expected. The reverend sleeping while Gael trotted over the countryside, fully saddled? Or worse. The door shook under his fist when he banged again. Jebediah strode around the small building, returning with a puzzled expression.

“There.” Jebediah pointed to where Gael’s tracks had pocked the trail toward Richland Knob. “He said he was going yesterday. Had something to deliver.”

Gideon glanced around, unease filling him. He pounded again.

If Toby were home, he’d answer. That much Gideon knew. Lunging off the steps, he knelt beside the trail and fingered a deep hoofprint. Very fresh. Only a few things separated a man from his horse. “Something’s not right.”

Jebediah crouched beside him. “No. It’s not.”

Straightening, Gideon stared up the path. The mist continued to fall. He let out a heavy breath in a white cloud. “Let’s follow.”

Jebediah panted at his side as they scaled another hill. The path dropped and dipped out of sight as if chasing the sun. The light hit Gideon’s face. “How you doin’?” he asked Jebediah.

“Just fine.” But worry threaded Jebediah’s gray eyes.

That made two of them. Gideon could hear himself. Breathing like an ox. Rifle in hand, he gulped, trying to steady his heart. Trying to shove off all the possibilities that struck him. Not liking what they did to his mind, his conscience. One after the other. “Did Toby tell you what he had on him? what he had to deliver?” he asked, trying to change the course of his thinking.

“No.” Jebediah shook his head.

“Good.” That meant he’d kept it to himself. Wise man.

Jebediah’s feet stilled, and he tilted his head to the side. His eyebrows tugged together.

“What is that?” Gideon’s boots slammed to a halt. The ground was a mess. The road they had been following had been pristine, save Gael’s hoofprints in the soft soil. But it all stopped here in a tumult of mud, stirred into patches of old snow that lined the shaded areas. Jebediah knelt, Gideon close at his side.

Jebediah brushed against a pink patch of snow, then another. “That’s blood.” The older man’s voice was throaty.

Gideon glanced around. The woods swallowed up both sides of the road. Boot prints disappeared through the trees to the left. And to the right. It made no sense.

“You go that way.” Gideon tossed his head to where the woods looked flat and motioned himself toward the steeper side. “I’ll go this way.”

Gideon stepped into the shadows of the trees and stood as quietly as he could manage. He flexed his hand around his rifle. He listened until he couldn’t hear Jebediah anymore. Silence. Even so, he kept to the shadows as he continued on, pausing every so often to listen for telltale signs of other life. A creek roared in the distance, not far off. He walked a minute more, keeping an eye on the signs around him. A broken tree branch, the wood still green and fragrant as if it had just snapped. The prints in the soft soil made by more than one man. Then the forest yawned, pulling him into a clearing that dipped to the rushing creek. His boots scuffled to a halt, and Gideon froze.

A crushed hat. Lifting it, Gideon popped the center out and turned it in his hands. The reverend’s hat. The unsettled feeling that had been chasing him suddenly caught up in a rush of heat. Gideon’s heart thundered.

He turned in a quick circle. Gloves cupped to the sides of his mouth, he called Toby’s name, then it struck him that he might not be alone. He ducked beneath bramble, sharp branches snagging at his coat like angry fingers. He fell to his knees and crawled free. Sitting back, he spotted the water. The angry froth rose and fell over rocks, pulling whatever landed on its surface into a frigid grave. Gideon stood slowly. His eyes searched every shadow for danger. For life.

Gideon squinted. A huddled form lay at the water’s edge. He tried to
make out what he was seeing and realized the white foam rushed around the legs of a man.

Gideon ran down the slope. His boots skidded to a stop where the man lay, and he tugged on his limp shoulder, turning him over. But he already knew.

Toby. The reverend’s face was ashen. Using both hands, Gideon gripped his head and shook it.

“Toby!”

He pressed his ear to the Scotsman’s chest and held his breath. The water was too loud. Biting back a curse, he quickly shook his head and pressed his ear to Toby’s chest again. There. The faint beat of a heart. Gideon gripped Toby’s thick wrists and pulled with all his might. Toby’s body inched up the bank. With a grunt, Gideon pulled again.

Light pierced through distant trees, nearly blinding him. With one final heave, he pulled the reverend out of the water. The creek roared in his ears. Kneeling, Gideon searched for a wound, yanking Toby’s soaked coat free. His fingers fumbled the man’s abdomen, then his side, finally finding the gash. Gideon pulled back his bloody hand. Toby was dying.

Toby. Was dying.

The only other man Lonnie loved—was dying. Gideon’s hands shook harder. Then his whole body. The land lightened. Warming as the sun cleared the treetops. But half-soaked, his teeth chattered. Lowering his head to Toby’s chest, he heard a heart fighting. Blood stained the ground, turning it darker. Gideon’s pulse pounded away the seconds. A ticking clock.

His blood-stained hands hung limp at his sides.

Everything he’d hated about Toby came rushing back to him. The reverend’s love for Lonnie and that he was a better man. Their dance. Her smile. Gideon’s fists fighting for what he could never win. Regret.
Quips and apple trees and Jacob and Addie and sun. Countless hours. Wise words and handshakes.

His friend.

“No,” Gideon said softly. And with that word, everything he knew to be true and good flooded his mind. He cringed. Felt his face twist in agony. “No!” Gideon growled.

He yanked at a shred of fabric on Toby’s shirt and ripped it free. He crammed it into a bundle and stuffed it against the gash, using all his strength to keep the life from pooling out of the man, even as he lifted a prayer for a miracle. “Jebediah!” he shouted.

Lonnie loved this man.

“Oh, God,” Gideon groaned. “Forgive me.” He pressed harder, knowing he had to make up for lost time.
Forgive me
.

He held the cloth to the wound with one hand and ripped more fabric with his other, using his teeth to tear the cloth strip free. He wrapped it around the reverend’s ribs, rolled the man to his side and slid the strip beneath his back. Gideon yanked the makeshift bandage tight, knowing it would cost Toby’s life if he didn’t. He knotted the fabric, pulling it as hard as he could. A slow groan came from the man’s throat. When the bandage was secure, Gideon rose to his knees. “Jebediah!” he called again.

Doubt struck him. His own weakness assaulted him.

Gritting his teeth, Gideon crouched beside Toby and, with the cry of a madman, heaved the reverend onto his shoulder. He struggled to stand, tired legs threatening to buckle. Clenching his jaw, he took one step forward. Then another. And another. Light warmed the air, bringing with it the promise of hope. Gideon carried Toby—branches crashing against them—as far as he could. But the Scotsman was bigger than he was. Gideon walked on, his heart pulsing from the exertion, then in despair,
he lowered Toby back to the ground. Gideon stumbled beside him. Exhausted. Toby groaned.

Yanking off his own coat, Gideon spread it over Toby’s chest. He shouted for Jebediah. Finally he heard the man coming. Gideon had carried the reverend for less than half a mile, but his strength was gone. Blood seeped through the bandage, and he pressed his hand against it as hard as he could, veins bulging in his arms.

The sun’s rays hit Gideon’s shoulders, warming him through the thin fabric of his shirt. His hands were turning numb, cuffs stained in the reverend’s blood. Still he held them to the wound with everything he had.
Forgive me
. He hung his head, knowing there was nothing more he could do. He was too weak. He was just a man.

And he wasn’t even a good man. A good man wouldn’t have hesitated.

Pressing his eyes closed, Gideon did the only thing he could think of. He prayed. Something he knew he wasn’t very good at.

He hoped God would look past that. He knew the God who brought Jacob safely into this world, the One who made the whole earth, didn’t fit into a box. No matter how many times he had tried to put Him there.
Forgive me
. The one plea pounded through him.

Jebediah broke through the bracken, starting in the opposite direction.

“Here!” Gideon shouted.

Turning, Jebediah hurried toward them.

“Get help!”

Glancing around for the briefest of moments, Jebediah seemed to decide on a direction and strode off as quickly as Gideon had ever seen him move.

Toby groaned and turned his head to the side. His eyes opened, glazed. He blinked into the light as if seeing nothing before his eyes slid closed. His lips moved, forming a single name. “Lonnie.”

Gideon swallowed. “She’s safe.”

Toby’s chest heaved as he struggled for a breath. “Lonnie.”

“Yes, Lonnie.” Gideon nodded, feeling hot tears sting the backs of his eyes. He grimaced but bit back the burn of jealousy. That jealousy—that man he once was—could be no more. Not for one more day. As the minutes passed, Gideon held Toby’s wound with all his strength. How he wished he could do more. The reverend deserved more. Yet Gideon was all he had.

At the sound of a harness jingling, Gideon’s head shot up. “Here!” he shouted, hoping Jebediah had found someone. The sound came from a distance, and he called again, louder this time. He held his breath and listened as the driver called back. Within moments, the creaking of wood crested over the hillside and a pair of gray horses pulled a wagon into sight.

“Whoa!” With a tug on the reins, the wagon slowed to a halt. The driver jumped down, followed by Jebediah.

Gideon rose and gripped Toby’s shoulder. He glanced up at the driver. “Can you get us out of here?”

The man moved to Toby’s other side. “Where to?” He slid his hands beneath the reverend’s back.

“My farm’s a few miles up the road,” Jebediah said, crouching.

They heaved Toby into the back of the wagon, startling a pair of collies. Gideon climbed in next, followed by Jebediah. The driver ran around and climbed onto the seat. The wagon jolted forward, and Gideon gripped the side. Then, shifting over, he applied pressure to the wound. Knowing that Toby would be dead in minutes if he were left to bleed, Gideon pressed with all his might.

“Is he alive?” The driver turned and peered down over his shoulder. His mouth drew into a straight line. Facing back to the road, he flicked the reins harder.

The wagon jostled, throwing Gideon’s hands deeper against the wound. Toby let out a low groan, the veins in his neck bulging.

Gideon pulled back slightly, knowing the reverend was in the worst kind of pain. “Barely.” Gideon’s hands, sticky with blood, had lost all feeling, and he used his shoulder to wipe a bead of sweat from his temple. The two collies lay at Toby’s side. One dog rested its head on its paws. The other had his snout nuzzled against Toby’s arm.

Jebediah held his gun close, steely eyes searching the woods. “We should be there in a few minutes,” he called to the driver.

Nodding, Gideon glanced at the balding man on the seat. “Thank you for your help. He’d be a dead man if you hadn’t come along.”

The driver shook his head. “He’d be a dead man if you two weren’t keeping him alive.” He slapped the reins. “I’ll drop you off, then fetch the doctor.”

“Farm’s comin’ up!” Jebediah called. The horses sped forward as fast as the muddy road allowed.

Gideon straightened. He peered at the road ahead, knowing he’d see the house soon, and even before the wagon stilled in the yard, he shouted for Lonnie and Elsie. As if the sheer urgency in his voice had pulled her forward, the screen door flung open, and Lonnie darted into the yard, her unbound hair spiraling behind her. She reached the wagon and her eyes widened.

Gideon helped her clamber into the bed.

“Toby!” She crawled to his side. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and she shook him, her thin arms barely moving the large man.

“He’s alive,” Gideon hurried to say. He lifted his palm, revealing the bloody gash in Toby’s side. Lonnie’s hand flew to her mouth.

She bent over and pressed her face to Toby’s neck, her arms still wrapped around him. Hair scattered across the reverend’s chest, her shoulders shook with sobs.

She called his name countless times.

Gritting his teeth, Gideon kept his hands pressed to the wound. It was pointless to try to comfort her. He simply sat there. Doing everything in his power to keep the man she held alive. It was the only thing he could do. And for the first time in a long time, he truly loved her enough to do just that.

Flames licked the back of his throat, and he glanced away, unable to witness the anguish in her face. Then, realizing this was his fate, he turned back. He had to be brave. It was time to grow up and face the truth. Even if he had to watch it unfold before him.

Lonnie pressed her lips to Toby’s forehead and closed her eyes. A tear fell.

No matter how much it hurt.