If the Prospect Pleases Page 10
His optimism spilled over onto his daughters, who now helped willingly with daily household chores in return for horseback rides with their father. Annora decided not to let the girls’ cheerfulness go to waste. Concluding that her employer wouldn’t deem it a proper use of time to drive to the school in Cheyenne every day until both children were old enough to enroll, she planned to start spending part of their story-reading sessions teaching them the alphabet.
One afternoon, while taking down some wash, Annora caught a glimpse of Mr. Brent putting Chesapeake through his paces. Curious, she went to the corral fence and climbed up on a low rung to watch, fascinated by his skill and his obvious love for the spirited mount. She couldn’t help but admire the beautiful reddish-brown horse with its black mane, tail, and points.
“They’re something, ain’t they?” Noah, just back from town, took the spot next to her, chewing absently on the stem of a long weed he had quirked in one corner of his mouth. His shirt sleeve rested against Annora’s bare arm.
Uncomfortable at his nearness, she shifted her weight slightly away from him. “I’ve never seen prettier horses,” she answered casually, her sweeping glance including the mares serenely exploring an adjacent section of the corral. One was a black color with a silky mane and tail, and the other, gray with speckled hindquarters. Even the workhorses were fine-looking creatures and had temperaments almost as pleasant as the milk cow grazing in the pasture.
“Well, if there’s one thing that brother of mine is a good judge of, it’s horseflesh. This is the beginning of his grand dream, you know.”
“Oh?” Annora turned toward the young man.
“Yep. All this farmin’, it’s just been a means to an end. Sale of the excess crops to the local stores has provided capital he’s been needin’ to buy stock. With all the big cattle spreads in the territory, he figures there’ll be a steady market for good, trained mounts in the future. He wants to raise ’em.”
Annora returned her attention to the working pair. “Is that your dream, too?”
Noah gave a derisive snort. “Nah. If I ever get wind of a new gold strike anywhere, I’m off to parts unknown. Don’t have the patience Lucas has, to spend years and years developing a herd of prize stock.” Removing his wide-brimmed hat, he used it to point with as he blotted his forehead on his other sleeve. “Take old Ches, now. He has enough thoroughbred in him to make him fast. Real fast. Meanwhile, his pacer blood makes him agile. And the mares, they’re strong and sturdy. Should make a good combination of qualities for cattle ponies. Course, Lucas’ll keep adding to his breeding stock, too, as his finances allow.”
Contemplating the information while Noah replaced his hat, Annora admired the sorrel’s fluid movements—to say nothing of those of his owner. They moved and worked as one, the beautiful animal responding to the slightest flick of the rein from his master.
“Do you ride?” Noah asked suddenly.
“Me?” she asked with a light laugh. “No. I’ve never been around horses much.”
“I’d be glad to teach you sometime.” A provocative smirk tugged at his mouth.
Somehow, surmising he had other things in mind besides mere riding lessons, Annora heard an alarm bell go off in her head. She hopped down from the fence rail. “Thanks.” She brushed the fence dust from her hands. “But I doubt there’ll be a chance for anything like that in the near future. I don’t have much time left, you know, before my trial month is up.”
He slanted her a lopsided grin, his blue eyes gleaming. “What makes you think you won’t get the job permanent?”
“I haven’t heard anything that would make me think so.”
“Well, now, you just never know, do you?” He cast a glance in his brother’s direction, did a double-take, and sobered.
Annora noticed Mr. Brent eyeing the two of them.
Noah turned and started for the barn, then stopped. “Oh. By the way. Almost forgot. Postmaster gave me this for you.” He reached inside his vest pocket and held a letter out to her.
“Truly?” Her heartbeat quickened as she unceremoniously grabbed the envelope. Recognizing Lesley’s handwriting, she concluded that her own letter and Lesley’s had probably crossed somewhere en route. She dashed to her private quarters and tore open the treasure, scanning its contents.
Dear Annora,
I am sending this in care of Mr. Brent in the hope that it will find you. I knew I would miss you, but I had no idea exactly how empty this great city would seem after you left. I do pray you are faring well out in the wilds, but never forget that you do have a home back here among your friends, should you find yourself in dire straits.
You must be wondering what happened at the church after your hasty departure. From what I heard, the sanctuary was absolutely packed with an expectant audience as the flustered, perspiring groom came to wait for his nonexistent bride to walk down the aisle. When you did not appear, the Baxters were beside themselves. After dismissing the crowd, they set up an immediate meeting with Percy’s solicitors to see what could be done to forestall having his inheritance tied up in a trust fund for the next twenty-five years. Finally, in an effort to save face, it was decided that Mirah would marry Percival when she turns sixteen. How I would have loved to have seen the brat’s face when the news was presented to her! She’s always had such high and lofty intentions.
At this unforeseen turn of events, Annora was overcome by giggles and laughed until she had to hold her sides. So Mirah Baxter had gotten her comeuppance after all, just as Mrs. Henderson had predicted! When her mirth subsided, she shook her head and continued reading:
I do hope things have worked out in your favor regarding your position in Wyoming. The moment you have time to take pen in hand, I hope you will go into great detail about your new home, your employer, and his children. Until then, know that you are constantly in my prayers. Michael joins me in wishing you every happiness.
Your friend always,
Lesley
Blinking unexpected moisture from her eyes, Annora hugged the missive to her heart, then reread it through from the beginning. Lesley had given no indication of having been implicated in Annora’s flight to the West. With a great sigh of relief, she lay back on her bed and smiled.
Her reverie met a swift end with a knock on her door.
“Miss Annora?” Melinda asked. “When’s supper?”
“I was just about to start on it, sweetheart.” Rising, Annora folded Lesley’s letter and tucked it inside the envelope once more, then put it under her pillow for later readings.
❧
Annora ladled portions of rich venison stew into everyone’s bowls, then lowered herself to the chair and bowed her head. “We thank You, dear Lord, for Your wondrous provision and bounty. Please bless this meal and use it to our sustenance and us to Your service. Amen.”
Gratified that her custom of saying grace at mealtimes had so easily become an accepted practice here, she slathered butter onto a thick slice of bread and bit off a chunk as she worked up courage to broach yet another questionable topic.
Mr. Brent and Noah, apparently more hungry than talkative this evening, made quick work of their first helpings, then refilled their bowls and dug in again.
Annora swallowed. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
The silence bracketing that pronouncement was so profound, her words seemed to ring in the air.
Melinda and Amy looked at her, then at their father, whose face registered nothing whatever.
“And I was wondering,” Annora plunged on, “if we could start attending services.”
Her employer filled his lungs and slowly exhaled. “Not much point in that,” he said flatly with barely a pause in his eating.
Refusing to be cowed by his attitude, she pressed on. “No point in worshipping God?”
Lucas Brent set down his spoon and met her gaze straight on. “Look, miss. We used to put a lot of store in that truck. Now we get along just fine without it. Besides, there’s work that needs doing. We ca
n’t be traipsing off to town all the time.”
“But it would be good for the girls to—”
His demeanor hardened, as did the steel blue of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but his brother beat him to it.
“I could drive ’em in on Sundays,” Noah piped up.
“Forget it. If we go someplace like church, it’s either all of us or none.”
Annora didn’t quite know what to make of that statement.
“We used to go to meetin’ every Sunday,” Amy said in a tiny voice, “when Mama was here. She said it was ’portant.”
Some of the resolve tightening Lucas Brent’s lips appeared to lessen. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He rose and shoved his chair back with his legs, but before he could take his leave, the child’s rounded azure eyes shimmered with tears. “I’ll. . .think on it,” he muttered. “But don’t count on tomorrow.” With that, he crossed the room and stomped out.
Annora flinched as the door banged shut behind him.
Noah just grinned. “Well, well. It would appear somebody’s startin’ to get through to Big Brother.”
But it was much too soon to count her employer’s weakening stance a victory, Annora knew. As she cleaned up after the meal and readied the girls for their bedtime, she felt far from easy about having confronted the man right under the noses of his children. The least she could do was apologize.
She had been around long enough to perceive that whenever the farmer seemed particularly tense, he spent extra time with his beloved Chesapeake. The bond between the horse and the man was almost tangible, even to a casual observer. So when the opportunity at last presented itself, she made her way to the barn.
“He’s very beautiful,” she said quietly, approaching the stall. Tentatively, shyly, she reached to touch the velvety face, surprised at how soft and warm it was as the animal nuzzled against her palm.
Her employer’s dark head turned, and he looked at her but did not speak.
Lowering her hand, she settled back onto her heels and fidgeted a little, toying nervously with the edge of her apron. “I came to say I’m sorry, Mr. Brent. I didn’t mean to cause a scene at the supper table.”
He leaned his forearms on the horse’s rump and cocked his head, regarding her with those penetrating eyes of his. “Don’t you think it’s about time you dropped the ‘mister’ bit?” he asked simply. “Makes me feel like I’m my dad. My friends call me Lucas.”
It was the last thing Annora would have expected him to say. Not sure of how to respond, she drew her lips inward and lightly bit down on them.
“After all that grace saying, I should have known it was only a matter of time till you brought up going to church. Must be a woman thing.”
Annora tucked her chin. “You don’t mean that.”
“No. . .I guess I don’t,” he admitted reluctantly.
Something about the way he’d said it—or was it the honesty behind it?—gave Annora hope, and she felt herself relax a notch as he went back to brushing the reddish-brown hide.
“It was pretty important to my wife,” Lucas went on. “To both of us, actually. But when she died, I. . .” Though his words trailed off, the pain they etched into his tanned features quite eloquently finished the thought.
Annora nodded with understanding and silently prayed for wisdom before she replied. “It’s. . .hard to part with someone you love. Hard to understand the whys. . .especially when they don’t make a lick of sense.”
He appeared to consider the comment as he kept working, and a corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. His gaze sought hers again, as if reading her innermost thoughts. “Yeah, I guess if anybody knows what it’s like to be left alone, it’d be someone like you.”
“You get used to it,” she said softly. “Anyway, I have never been completely alone. The Lord has always been there for me.”
His movements stopped. “Then, why do you suppose He delights in snatching a mama away from young’uns who need her?”
Annora thought for a minute. “I don’t think He delights in it. At least, not in the way you mean. The Bible says the death of His saints is a very precious thing to Him. . .a reward, if you will, to His faithful ones. And it says that all our days are numbered before we are even born. We’re the ones who think everybody is entitled to that three-score years and ten it talks about.”
A wry smile played across Lucas’s mouth as he shook his head in contemplation, the lantern’s glow making silver highlights against his brown-black hair. “Never thought about it quite that way.” Hanging the brush on a hook, he patted Chesapeake’s muscular neck and exited the stall, latching it after him. “Don’t suppose there’s any more of that good coffee we had at supper.”
“Sure is. And it goes perfectly with the apple pie.”
He grinned unabashedly. “One thing’s for sure, Annora. You know your way around a kitchen.”
“It’s something else I got used to, awhile back.”
“Well then, maybe I’ll trouble you for some pie and coffee. . .if it won’t make us oversleep for church tomorrow.”
The surprising words all but sang across Annora’s heartstrings. This truly was a victory. . .and a joyous one, at that. A smile broke forth. “Not at all. . .Lucas.”
thirteen
Lucas hadn’t intended ever to darken church doors again after Francie’s funeral. How on earth he had allowed his little redheaded housekeeper to coerce him into coming to service today would forever remain a mystery. But here he was.
He had dawdled about, taking his good-natured time parking the wagon while the rest of the family went inside. Now through the partially open windows the first wheezy notes from the pump organ drifted to his ears.
Might as well get this over with. Filling his lungs, Lucas wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs, trudged up the familiar steps, then before he changed his mind, strode purposely through the vestibule.
The very second his boot heels echoed on the plank floor, every individual present turned to gawk. Lucas shut out the volley of hushed whispers and the amazed expressions making the rounds. They were the least of his woes. . . . Noah had led the family to the first pew, clear up front! Grinding his teeth in consternation, he made a solemn vow. That kid brother of mine better be on speaking terms with his Maker. When I get him home, I’m gonna wring his scrawny neck!
Feigning nonchalance, Lucas marched the length of the center aisle to join his kin. And all the way, he tried to convince himself it was his imagination that the tempo of the prelude matched the rhythm of his steps.
He crossed in front of Noah—who purposely avoided the look intended to sear him to his bones—crossed in front of the girls, then Annora, taking the next spot on the hard bench. He was still seething when Rosemary Evans came from the opposite aisle and plunked herself down beside him, a brilliant smile on her face as she settled her yellow taffeta skirts about her.
The musical piece ended on a sustained final note, and the Reverend Miles Gardner stepped to the pulpit. The gray-haired minister’s round face fairly beamed as his gaze finally moved from Lucas to include the other worshipers. “My dear brothers and sisters,” he began. “This is a day of great celebration. Let us bow our hearts before our Holy God.”
Lucas was so busy plotting his brother’s demise, he missed all but the closing “Amen.” But since he’d made that drive into town expressly for the worship service, he’d see it through. He crossed his arms and focused his attention on the minister even as Rosemary inched closer.
❧
There weren’t many similarities between this small clapboard church and the grand brick one where the Reverend Baxter served, Annora decided. Clear windows rather than stained glass, plain pulpit instead of one ornately carved, and many of the folks who had come this morning were dressed quite simply. A few men even wore what appeared to be work clothes. But everyone’s smiles had seemed genuine when she and the girls had traipsed down the aisle behind Noah.
The pastor’s kindly brown eyes surveyed the small congregation, and he smiled. “Brothers and sisters, this will be the third and final message in our series, ‘Restoring a Broken Fellowship with God.’ ”
Beside her, Annora felt Lucas stiffen slightly. She breathed a desperate prayer that he would stay and listen to what the Lord laid upon the minister’s heart and that everyone present would benefit from the truths presented.
“You will recall,” the pastor went on, “that two weeks ago we learned some of the marks of a backslider—including, among other things, no interest in attending church, no desire for Christian fellowship, and no personal time alone with the Lord.”
Referring to his notes again, he continued. “And last week we studied some of the reasons why a Christian falls away from his faith—whether it be because of a particular weakness, the result of deep sorrow, or just a gradual cooling toward spiritual matters. But this morning, dear friends, we have not come to focus on the negatives but rather on the glorious positives. I’ve entitled this sermon ‘Coming Home.’ Turn with me, if you will, to our text for today, found in the second chapter of Revelation.”
The flutter of pages sounded from the few Bibles among the folk present. Annora opened hers and let it rest on her lap.
“This passage,” the Reverend Gardner explained as he scanned the audience, “speaks of the church at Ephesus, reminding them that they had left their first love. For whatever reason, they had forgotten the joy of their former days. They had ceased working for the Lord and their zeal had grown cold. But did the Lord give up on them? Not at all. Just look at what the risen Christ tells them to do in verse five: ‘Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works.’ We’ll look at what those ‘first works’ entailed—but before we do, let’s consider what had to take place beforehand—repentance. . . .”