Tracie Peterson (4 page)

“Well, the fact of the matter is, I haven’t told him. I was afraid he wouldn’t let me take the trip if he knew.”

Pamela felt an aching build in her heart. She could be married and having Bradley’s children if only her parents hadn’t interfered.

“You shouldn’t keep things from him Zandy. He is your husband and in accordance with the Bible, you are subject to his authority,” Ruth admonished.

“I’ll tell him tonight,” Zandy promised.

“I have a headache,” Pamela said suddenly. “Would you mind terribly if I retired for a nap?”

“Not at all, my dear,” Ruth answered. “Do you remember the way to your room?”

Pamela nodded. “I’m sure I do. Thank you for the wonderful meal. And Zandy,” she said, turning to her friend, “congratulations.”

Zandy beamed in happiness, making Pamela feel even more alienated. The room was smothering her with the joy of the two women, and Pamela hurried for the door, closing it firmly behind her. Leaning there against the heavy oak frame, Pamela felt the first tears flood her eyes. She ran for the stairs and the sanctuary of her room before anyone could stop her and ask what was wrong.

❧

That evening in front of her dressing table, Zandy began the long process of pulling out hairpins and letting down her chestnut brown hair. She brushed in long, even strokes while thinking of how she would share her news with Riley. He might be very angry with her for not telling him sooner, or he might be so overjoyed at the news that he’d completely forget the little matter of timing. Either way, she didn’t hear him come into the room until he stood directly behind her.

Leaning down, Riley placed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re mighty deep in thought, Mrs. Dawson.”

Zandy put the brush down and rose to embrace her husband. “That I am,” she murmured against his chest.

“I’m sorry I took so long, but I’ve a feeling you’ll see a whole lot less of me before it gets any better. I guess I’m kind of glad you brought Pamela with you.”

Zandy pulled away. “You truly are?”

“Yes,” Riley smiled down at his wife. “You were smart to bring her, and I was wrong to hesitate. I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

Zandy swallowed hard. She felt more than a little guilty for keeping the news of the baby from him. “Only if you forgive me.”

“Forgive you? For what?”

“Come sit down,” Zandy said, pulling Riley to the edge of the bed.

“If I need to sit down, it must be something big,” Riley said, looking deep into Zandy’s eyes. “Better come clean quickly, Mrs. Dawson.”

Zandy sat down beside Riley and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m going to have a baby.”

“What!” Riley jumped to his feet. “Are you sure?”

Zandy couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Yes, I’m sure and there’s more.”

Riley laughed. “A baby! Well, I’ll be. I’m going to be a father! When did you find out?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about,” Zandy said softly.

Riley immediately noted her sobriety and sat back down beside her. “What is it?”

“I knew about the baby before we left on this trip,” Zandy said slowly. “I was afraid if I told you, you might not let me come along. I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you trust me, Zandy?”

Her head snapped up, and she gazed into his brown-black eyes. “With my life!” she declared.

“But not with the life of our child?” His words hit her hard.

“It was just that I wanted so much to see my father and Ruth and the kids. I was afraid with the way you worry over me that you’d put your foot down and demand that I stay in Missouri and, Riley, I just couldn’t bear that.”

“So you decided how I would react before you gave me a chance to have any say in the matter?” Riley questioned.

“Well, you can be rather stubborn,” Zandy said with a weak smile.

“Me? Take a look in the mirror, Mrs. Dawson, and let’s discuss stubborn streaks.”

“All right. I’ve admitted I was wrong.”

“Yes, you were,” Riley said firmly.

Zandy eased into his arms and snuggled against his neck. “But you forgive me, right?”

Riley laughed and wrapped his arms around her. “I forgive you, but please promise me you’ll give me a chance next time. This is some kind of news and, if you’d only told me, I could have made arrangements for you to have an easier trip out here.”

“I promise to trust you in the future,” Zandy answered, feeling contentment replace her guilt.

“Good,” Riley replied. “Now, when is my son due to arrive?”

Four

T
he weeks moved slowly, one into the other, without Pamela so much as realizing that the harsh cold of winter was passing into a colorful display of mountain spring. The gardens outside the Dawson mansion had been carefully cultivated by Ruth Stewart and, in spite of the fact that Molly did her best to pick everything in sight, there grew an enchanting array of flowers and vegetation.

Pamela was bored, however. Bored and miserable. The snowcapped mountains surrounding Dawson did little to lift her spirits. She continued to pine for Bradley and spent most of every waking hour concentrating on her memories of their time in Kansas City.

Zandy and Ruth laughed and talked about the baby to come. At one point, they went into town to shop, and Pamela tagged along, wishing that she might find something to interest herself. It was hope ill-spent, as far as Pamela was concerned. She couldn’t achieve the same spirit of light-heartedness as Zandy and Ruth. They were content to pick out material and plan baby clothes, while Pamela had nothing but her broken dreams.

Catching sight of a newly placed photography studio, Pamela talked Zandy into allowing her to sit for a photograph. Pamela wanted very much to mail the picture to Bradley, hoping that it would remind him of how much she loved him. Zandy reluctantly agreed to the picture and promised she’d think about whether or not it would be wise to mail the photo to Bradley.

“Pamela, Proverbs 17:22 is just the verse for you,” Zandy said one
evening while sewing a tiny blanket. “I found it just the other day while I was having my devotions.”

Pamela stared curiously but said nothing.

“Anyway,” Zandy continued, “It says, ‘A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.’ ”

“I have nothing to be merry about, Zandy.” The words were given mat
ter-of-factly, and Pamela offered nothing more on the matter.

Zandy put aside her blanket and reached across the small table to where Pamela’s hands were folded in idle frustration. “We don’t always understand why God allows certain things to happen in our lives. I know I couldn’t understand why I had to meet up with the likes of Riley Dawson when he first came to this town. But God sees the bigger picture, and we have to trust Him with it.”

“But it is so hard,” Pamela said with a heaviness that threatened to break into sobs.

“I know,” Zandy said and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “But just remember this, when Moses’ mother put him into the basket and had his sister set him afloat in the Nile, God was already sending Pharaoh’s daughter to the river bank.”

“I don’t think I understand,” Pamela admitted.

“God was already planning ahead. He wants us in our living and desires to seek His will and way for our lives. Often, however, we choose another path, and God realizes, as a loving Father, that giving us our own way would be harmful. He gives us the freedom to choose, but He also intervenes to redirect because He knows we are only human. Maybe God realized that Bradley would only bring you heartache and grief. Maybe God has someone better for you. A Christian man who will love and honor you, as he loves and honors the Lord.”

“I can’t believe that God would be so cruel to me,” Pamela said, jerking her hands away from Zandy. She got to her feet and smoothed back the loose pieces of blond hair that had pulled out of her stylish chignon. “I don’t want another man, Christian or no. I want Bradley, and if I can’t have him I’ll have no one!”

With that, Pamela stormed out of the room and from the house. She had
a full head of steam and an elongated step by the time she reached the
Dawson gardens.

The sky had faded into deep purple twilight, and stars were already visible in the velvety folds. Pamela forced herself to slow down and rethink her words. Zandy hadn’t meant any harm, and Pamela knew that full well.

“Oh, Bradley,” she whispered against the night skies. Just then someone grabbed her from behind, and Pamela felt steel-like arms pull her tight, while a leather-gloved hand fell across her mouth.

“Don’t cry out,” the hoarse voice sounded. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

Pamela was nearly beside herself with joy. Bradley had come for her! She tried to turn and speak, but the arms held her tight.

“No, just stay quiet. I’ll explain everything later. Just remember, this is for your own good. Now, do what I say.”

Pamela nodded mutely, and the hand dropped from her mouth. The man pulled her backwards through the garden to an awaiting horse. Ominous black shadows kept Pamela from getting a good look at the man, but in her heart she was content to believe it was Bradley. After all, he had said he was there to rescue her. An ordinary kidnapper would never say such a thing.

The man hoisted her into the saddle of his horse, coming up behind her at the same time. Pamela settled into the seat and leaned back against the warmth of the man’s chest.
Yes
, she thought to herself,
this is my Bradley, and he’s come to take me home.

They rode for hours, sometimes at a steady pace along the well-worn mountain road and other times more slowly, in order to avoid disaster in the pitch black that had become night. Eventually, the rhythmic ride caused Pamela to lose her grip on the saddle horn and fade into a weary sleep. She was safe and warm in the arms of the man she loved. What more could she want?

Pamela dreamed of Bradley’s gallant rescue even as she slept. She saw herself laughing at how they’d fooled everyone and escaped the tyrannical rule of her parents. Bradley was gallant and dashing, and Pamela was happier than she’d thought possible. Bradley had saved her from loneliness, and that was all she knew.

The wind picked up and roared down through the tall ponderosa pines, giving a moaning cry that woke Pamela from her happiness. Stretching a bit, Pamela suddenly realized that she was no longer on the back of the horse. Opening her eyes, she was greeted with a warm, crackling fire and the unmistakable aroma of coffee.

Pamela sat up and rubbed the sleep from her face, and that was when she saw it. Two harsh, angry, unyielding eyes, glowing across the fire from her.
The man who stared back at her was not Bradley! Nervously, Pamela scoot
ed back a bit before demanding to know the man’s identity.

“Who are you? Where’s Bradley?” she asked as forcefully as she could.

The man did nothing for a minute. He just kept staring at her with eyes that would yield nothing more than something that closely resembled hatred. His lean, angular jaw was clenched tightly, so tightly in fact that Pamela could see a noticeable ticking in his cheek.

“Well?” she pressed for an answer.

“I might ask you the same,” the deep voice sounded from across the flames.

“I presumed you knew. Didn’t you help Bradley rescue me?” Pamela asked innocently.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lady.” The man sprung to his feet like a circus cat performing its paces. Pamela shrank away. Her heart was beating wildly. Who was this man?

“I’m talking about this,” Pamela finally offered in a weak voice. She waved her arm across the sky. “My rescue.”

“I didn’t plan to rescue you. I don’t know who this Bradley is, and I sure don’t know who you are.” He came to stand no more than a foot or so away from her before he crouched down. “Who are you?”

Pamela began to tremble so hard that it was instantly noticeable to the man. He grumbled beneath his breath, walked to where his bedroll was, and brought back a blanket. Without any concern for the woman at his feet, he unrolled the blanket with a snap that ended in a cloud of dust.

“Here,” he said and threw it down.

Pamela coughed and sputtered in the dust cloud. Anger quickly replaced her fear, and Pamela got to her feet, casting the blanket to one side.

“How dare you!” she exclaimed and rushed at the surprised man. She pounded her fists against his chest while the stranger stood staring down at her in shocked wonder. Finally having had enough, he reached out in a flash and halted her assault.

“Who are you?” he asked in a whisper.

“I’m Pamela Charbonneau,” her blue eyes flashed their anger, reminding the man of summer lightning.

A smile broke across his face for only a moment, then faded to a solemn line. “Why were you at the Dawson house?”

“I’m staying there with friends,” she said and struggled to pull loose from his grip. “Or I should say,
was
staying there. Now that I’ve answered your questions, how about answering mine?”

The man shrugged and released her. “Jim,” he said casually. “The name’s Jim Williams.”

“Should that mean anything to me?” Pamela asked, stepping backwards several steps. She felt better putting the distance between them.

“Not unless Zandy told you about me,” he replied.

“Zandy? Why would she know a ruthless outlaw like you?”

Jim laughed. “Outlaw, eh? I guess you would think that.”

Pamela didn’t care that the anger was fading from his face. “I demand that you tell me what’s going on. I want to know now!” she screeched and stomped her foot.

Jim stared in wonder. His silence only served to irritate her.

“I mean it!” Pamela’s voice was rising to a shout. “I want to know why you took me. I want to know when you are going to release me. I want to know why—”

Pamela stopped as Jim turned to walk away. “Where are you going?”

Jim kept walking and Pamela ran after him, grabbing his arm. “You don’t mean to leave me here alone, do you?”

Jim stopped and stared down at her. “I have to think,” he declared. “And, I can’t do that with you caterwauling. Sit by the fire and you’ll be fine. I’ll be back when my head is clear.”

With that, he pulled his arm loose and disappeared into the darkness. Pamela whirled on her heel and stalked back to the fire. She was worried, frightened, and just plain mad. The arrogance of the man left her shaking with rage. The memory of his piercing brown eyes left her trembling for other reasons.

Grabbing the blanket he’d thrown down, Pamela pulled it around her and sat down. The trees rustled a haunting melody. Night sounds she’d not heard before became audible in her solitude. Pamela had never really been alone before. All of her life, there had been someone to watch over her or to do for her. Now there was no one, not even the angry man who’d taken her.

Tears came to Pamela’s eyes as the distant scream of a mountain lion rang out. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged the blanket close, pulling it over her head.

“God,” she prayed, “please help me.”