A Gown of Spanish Lace (28 page)

“Is something wrong?”

Ariana stirred at the sound of her mother’s voice. She did not know how long she had been sitting, gazing off into space, her thoughts far from the little log home that belonged to her aunt and uncle.

“What do you mean?” she managed to reply.

“I don’t know. You just seemed…miles away. Rather…forlorn.”

Ariana stirred listlessly again.

Her mother sat down beside her and placed a hand on her arm.

“I’ve noticed—something—ever since we arrived. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m not sure,” Ariana began. “Perhaps I…just miss the school—the students. My friends from church. If I could have gone back home—”

“Maybe,” replied her mother, not sounding too sure.

They continued to sit in silence, each occupied with her own thoughts.

“I thought you might be missing him,” her mother finally commented.

Ariana swung around to face her, fully understanding her mother’s remark. “He’s an—”

But she couldn’t say “outlaw.”

“He’s not…a believer,” she said instead.

“I know. You told me,” said her mother quietly. Her hand gently stroked the gingham sleeve. “That is what makes it difficult. You must dictate to your heart. You’ve made the right decision—but it isn’t always easy to make the right decision—even when you know you must. Sometimes—sometimes—the heart needs some convincing, even though our faith says—”

“He was—”

“Your prison guard. I know. I’ve heard rather strange stories…about women and…and their captors. It really isn’t at all unheard of for them to…to learn to love them.”

Ariana brushed a hand nervously over her ginghamed lap. “Oh, Mother,” she said quickly, “how could I? I mean, I was frightened of him—at first. I wanted the old man—Sam—to…to guard me. I certainly didn’t—I mean, even after I…I thought of him as…safe…I still didn’t—all the time at the camp—and even later on the trail I never—I mean, I never thought of him…in that way.”

“And now?” prompted her mother. “Now that he is no longer your captor—but has become instead your liberator?”

Ariana shook her head and the tears began to fall, even though she fought against them.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know,” she wept. “He was really…really a victim himself. He didn’t choose that life. That way to live. His father…he was just raised to…and he had nothing to do with my…he didn’t even know why I was there—at first. He really was…quite…. I…I know I shouldn’t. I know he still isn’t a believer, so I can’t…but I…I’m afraid…”

She turned to her mother, the tears coming more quickly. “Well—it’s a good thing he’s gone,” she blurted out and threw herself into her mother’s arms.

The mother said nothing more, just held her daughter and patted her slender shoulder. It was as she thought. Ariana had indeed fallen in love with the young man. Her heart was still a prisoner—even though she had been set free.

Laramie managed to find work on a large ranch in the foothills. At first it seemed strange to have to report to the foreman, but he loved being out in the open. He even enjoyed working with the herd. And it was a new experience to line up once a month for his small stipend—earned wages—and know he had worked hard for what was rightfully his.

He didn’t head for town and the saloon like the rest of the outfit. No one asked questions—though they must have wondered. Laramie didn’t want to take any chances of being spotted by some lawman, though he was fairly sure he would not be known to anyone in the area as one of Will Russell’s band.

Besides, he wished to save his money. Someday, he dared to dream, he’d have a little spread of his own.

“Preacher comin’ to town,” laughed one of the cowboys as he pulled off high-heeled boots and flopped down on his cot to sleep off the booze. “Can you imagine thet? A preacher. Here.”

Hoots of laughter followed.

Soon snores replaced the coarse laughter. Except for those who had duty riding herd, all would sleep for the rest of the day.

But Laramie was curious. Who was this preacher? When was he coming? And where?

He decided to saddle up and ride into town to see if he could find out.

The neighbors were thrilled to hear of the possibility of their children being taught.

“We need to build a school,” one big man proposed.

“Maybe we could use it for the Bible lessons,” offered a small woman timidly.

“Shore—a school an’ a church—all in one,” someone from the back of the room called out.

Laura Benson smiled at Ariana as she laid a hand on her arm.

“Perhaps God brought you to this community for a purpose,” she whispered and Ariana smiled in return. She fervently hoped they would hurry with the building. She was anxious to get back in the classroom again. Perhaps it would give her something else to think about. Something other than Laramie.

Laramie looked up the preacher and was pleased to hear that the man was not just passing through the area. Laramie had lots of questions, and he was sure they couldn’t be answered in a few short days. He began to attend the services whenever he was free. He even tucked his Bible in his saddlebag and took it with him as he rode the range. When he had a few moments as the herd contentedly grazed, he let his horse rest and feed while he sat in the shade and read the Bible, one eye on the lookout for trouble.

At last the pieces began to fall into place. He felt he was beginning to understand what God had in mind for His creation—for him.

The sinner could be forgiven and the sin, not just forgiven, but forgotten, because of what Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, had done on the cross of Calvary. He had been the sacrifice—the atonement—for man’s sin.

He, Laramie Russell, had to claim that gift of salvation—had to accept what had been done in his place. Had to vow to sin no more and make restitution—as far as possible—for sins of the past. Then he would be free to join one of the little groups that would be baptized at the small creek east of town.

It was not difficult for Laramie to acknowledge that he was a sinner. He had known that fact, deep down inside, for some time. Nor was it hard for him to ask for God’s forgiveness. He had longed to be freed from his burden of guilt. It was going to be much more difficult to right past wrongs. He didn’t quite know where and how to start.

Chapter Twenty

Truth

Ariana was thrilled when at long last the crude little schoolhouse was ready for use. Heart beating fast, she looked out over the small class of pioneer children. Their eyes shone with anticipation. Their faces looked to her with eagerness.

Perhaps Mama was right
, she whispered to herself.
Maybe this whole chain of events was for this very purpose
.

It was nice to think that maybe there had been a reason—something good that could come out of the dreadful ordeal.
How wonderful to know that God never lost control
, she thought,
that He could be trusted even during the darkest times when there seemed to be no purpose to it at all
.

As Ariana looked into eleven pairs of eyes fixed on her face, she took a moment for a quick prayer.
Thank you, Father
, she whispered silently.

It was not much—but it came from an overflowing heart.

Laramie felt torn in three directions.

His first desire was to return to Ariana. He was anxious to tell her about his Bible reading, his talks with the pastor, and the fact that he now understood her faith. Yet he hesitated. He had no right to expect acceptance from her or her family. He had a past. A past that had not been put to right.

His second choice seemed to be to stay where he was and continue to grow in his understanding of the words in his mother’s Bible. He had been welcomed into the small Christian fellowship group. The minister was most willing to lead him in his new faith. Other church members greeted him warmly and made him feel one with the little congregation. In fact, the eldest of the minister’s daughters seemed more than willing to move the friendship beyond that. Laramie noticed that she often tried to catch his eye, flirting just a bit, and took advantage of every opportunity to speak with him. Had it not been for his feeling for Ariana, he may have felt flattered and perhaps even responded. Laramie simply did not give the extra attention much thought.

Yet, as much as he longed to return to Ariana, and as much as he enjoyed the fellowship of the little church, Laramie concluded that the only honest choice was for him to pursue restitution for the past. It was not an easy decision and one that troubled his soul as he battled it through.

“I’ve got to go back.”

Laramie came to the conclusion after a long struggle. He had wrestled with the problem for many weeks, trying to find a good excuse for avoiding the return. After all, the trip could well cost him his life. He would not be welcomed back to his father’s camp. Nor would he be welcomed in any of the towns where he had been part of the gang’s activities.

But there was no way to escape the urgings of his conscience. He had done wrong. He had been forgiven—but he must—as far as possible, make right the wrongs of his past.