A Hopeful Heart (31 page)

“Y-you?” Abel wanted to jump up, to pummel Vince, to punish him for the hurt he’d inflicted. But all he could do was lie on the ground while Vince went on in a conversational tone.

“I did everythin’ I could to convince you to sell, but you wouldn’t budge. Would’ve been so much better if you’d just let me buy the place. But it’ll be mine now. With you dead, an’ you havin’ no heir, it makes sense for the land to go to your pa’s best friend, the man who stayed around an’ helped you keep the ranch a-runnin’.”

Vince stood, his knees cracking. “Don’t you worry now. I’ll be sure to bury you right next to your folks an’ your baby brothers. An’ I’ll take real good care of the ranch, just like it was my own.” He paused. “Sorry it had to end this way, Abel, but I got too much of my life invested in that ground to let it go.” He turned and strode away. Moments later, hoofbeats retreated.

Tears slid from Abel’s eyes.
It’s over, God. No way Tressa could make it all the way to the ranch on foot. My life’s ebbin’ out—I can feel it—an’ I’m scared, God. Tressa said when she’s afraid, she trusts in You. I want to trust in You again. Please forgive me for bein’ so contrary and blamin’ you for Pa’s dyin’ and Amanda’s leavin’. I was foolish an’ stubborn. I’m sorry, God. Please let me know You’re here with me.

A feeling of comfort flowed from Abel’s head to his toes, causing fresh tears to fill his eyes.
Thank You, God. Thank You. . . .
Despite his pain, despite his weakness, despite Vince’s treachery, his soul felt at peace. He could let go, and go home.

31

Hattie held Tressa tight against her chest. The girl had cried herself to sleep, exhausted from running so hard in that blistering heat and being scared half out of her wits. Even in sleep her body continued to convulse with sobs. Hattie pressed her cheek to Tressa’s sweaty hair. As soon as the doc finished with Abel, she’d have him take a peek at Tressa.

Lord, I’m beggin’ You, save Abel’s life. He’s got so much more livin’ to do.

The last thing she’d expected when she and Brewster rode down the road was to encounter Gage in Abel Samms’ wagon, driving that team like there was no tomorrow. And when she’d looked in the bed to find Tressa cradling Abel’s head in her lap, him lying white and still . . . She shook her head to dispel the image. Who’d’ve thought such things could happen in Barnett?

Now, Brewster and Gage sat side-by-side on the bench against the far wall of the doctor’s small sitting room. Gage hunched forward, his face buried in his hands. She’d never seen the boy so broken. Finding Abel near death must have affected him deeply.

“Gage?” She whispered his name, unwilling to disturb Tressa. At first, she thought he hadn’t heard, because he didn’t so much as flinch. But after a few seconds he lifted his head and met her gaze. “Thanks for actin’ so quick in gettin’ Abel to the doc. You might’ve saved his life.”

Gage stared at her blankly for several seconds, and then his face contorted into a horrible scowl. A single harsh sob burst from his lips. He drew up his arm, hid his face in his elbow, and began to sob wildly.

Brewster slung his arm across the boy’s shoulders. “Son?”

Gage’s body shook with the force of his weeping, and Brewster shot Hattie a helpless look. Hattie gently transferred Tressa to the bench seat and scurried across the floor to kneel in front of Gage.

“Gage? What’s wrong?” She used her gentlest voice, a tone she never thought she’d use with Brewster’s wayward son.

His muffled voice came from behind his arm. “I . . . I’m scared.”

His admission raised a rush of maternal compassion. Taking hold of his wrist, she pulled his arm away from his face. “I know it’s scary to find a man laid out like that, but—”

“No!” Gage swiped his forearm across his eyes, darting a frantic look across his father and Hattie. “You don’t understand. I . . . I . . .” He clamped his jaw shut, his Adam’s apple jerking with several large gulps.

Brewster curled his big hand over Gage’s knee. “Gage, you gotta talk to me, son, or I can’t help you.”

Gage spun on the seat. “You’ll help me, Pa? You won’t let ’em hang me?”

Brewster drew back, his mouth falling open. “H-hang you?” Suddenly he lunged forward, grabbing Gage’s shirt front. He growled, “What’ve you done?”

Hattie caught Brewster’s wrist and wrestled his fingers away from Gage’s shirt. Gage stormed to the corner of the room. He crossed his arms over his chest and hunched into himself, his head low.

Brewster strained toward his son. “Gage, I asked you—”

Hattie placed her hand over Brewster’s mouth. She tipped her head toward Tressa, who was sleeping fitfully a few feet away, and mouthed, “Not now.”

Brewster removed her hand from his mouth with an impatient sweep of his own hand, but he gave a brusque nod and remained silent. He glared at his son, fury and fear alternately flashing in his eyes. Hattie sat beside him and held his hand.

A door squeaked open, then clicked closed, and footsteps echoed from the hall. Tressa stirred, sitting up and staring, red-eyed, toward the hallway opening. Hattie jumped to her feet and greeted Doc Kasper as he entered the sitting area. She searched his face for signs of Abel’s condition, but the man was well practiced at keeping his expression unreadable. She blurted out, “Tell us, Doc. Is he still breathin’?”

The doctor plucked his spectacles from his face and slipped them into his shirt pocket. “He’s a lucky man. Bullet went straight through so I didn’t have to go digging for it, and far as I can tell it missed anything that would make it a mortal wound. I cleaned him up good and bandaged him tight to prevent more bleeding.” Doc Kasper rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb and then finished, “He’s lost a lot of blood and he won’t be using that arm for a good long while, but he’s young and strong. I expect him to make a full recovery.”

Hattie turned her face toward the ceiling and clapped her hands once. “Thank You, Lord!” Tressa scuttled to her side. She slipped her arm around the girl’s waist and looked at the doctor again. “Couldja give Tressa a look-see now? She—”

“I’m fine,” Tressa put in. She turned an imploring gaze on the doctor. “Can I go see him?”

“Not today. He needs rest more than visits. You all look like you could use a great deal of rest. There’s nothing more you can do for Abel.”

Before Tressa could argue, Hattie turned the girl toward the door. She intended to see that Tressa followed the doctor’s instruction and went straight to bed. Brewster and Gage followed them out the door.

Out on the boardwalk, Hattie turned to talk to Brewster, but Brewster was looking sternly at his son. “Gage, you want to tell me why you’re worried about bein’ hanged?”

Gage flicked a quick glance at the women, and his lips formed a stubborn line.

Brewster grabbed Gage’s arm and shook it hard. “If you’re in trouble, boy, now’s the time to speak up. You wait till the sheriff finds it out on his own an’ it’ll only be worse for you. Talk!”

Tressa scooted close to Hattie. Hattie understood the girl’s nervousness. She’d never seen Brewster so forceful. She held her breath, waiting for Gage to respond.

“All right!” Gage jerked his arm free. “I . . . I been puttin’ our brand over the top of Abel Samms’ an’ mixin’ his cattle into our herd.”

“You been
what
?” The veins on Brewster’s neck stood out.

Although Hattie had long awaited the day Brewster would take his son to task, apprehension now gripped her. Brewster looked angry enough to hang Gage himself.

“I been pilferin’ his cattle, Pa, a few head at a time—whatever Vince cut loose.”

Hattie shot Brewster a startled look. Vince’d been stealing from Abel?

Brewster clenched his fists. “What’n thunder would make you do such a stupid thing?”

Gage held out his arms in supplication. “It wasn’t my idea, Pa! Vince come to me—said the only way you’d ever get Abel off that land was to force him off. If Abel couldn’t keep up, money wise, he’d have to sell. So Vince cooked up a scheme to blend the Lazy S cattle in with ours. A herd big as ours? Nobody’d notice a dozen or so extra head. Vince said Abel’d be sure to sell out when he couldn’t make money off the ranch no more.”

He whirled on Tressa. “It was his idea for me to court you, too. Said Abel was settin’ his sights on you, an’ he might just take you for a wife. That’d make him less willin’ to leave his home. So he had to get you out of the way.”

Tressa gasped and clung to Hattie’s arm. Hattie gave the girl’s hand a comforting pat. Shaking her head, she said, “Gage, this is all a little hard to swallow. Why, Vince Rylin’s been workin’ the Lazy S for as long as I can remember. He practically raised Abel! Why would he help you take Abel’s ranch from him?”

Gage blinked, his face blank. “I . . . I don’t know. I just knew Pa wanted the land, so I helped Vince.” He turned to his father, and tears pooled in his eyes. “But I never meant for nobody to get hurt. When Vince told me he’d taken some shots at Tressa—scarin’ shots, he called ’em—I said I’d had enough an’ I wouldn’t help him no more. But he said if I quit or told anybody, he’d tell the sheriff he saw me puttin’ the runnin’ iron to Abel’s calves an’ get me arrested. I didn’t know what to do.”

Brewster stood with his arms at his side, his stony expression aimed beyond Hattie’s shoulder.

“Pa!” Gage stared into his father’s stern face. “You said you’d help me. What’re you gonna do?”

Hattie held her breath, waiting for Brewster to speak. In the past, he’d excused Gage’s misdeeds—making amends with a smile or a discreet passing of paper money. If he excused Gage this time, she’d be done with Brewster. She couldn’t pledge her life to a man who would knowingly overlook unlawful behavior.

Brewster’s hand snaked out to grip his son’s upper arm. Tears shone in his eyes, but his voice was firm. “You an’ me are goin’ to the sheriff an’ you’re gonna tell him what you just told me.”

Gage gaped at his father, fear dancing in his eyes. “Pa! You’d turn me in? But . . . but they
hang
cattle rustlers!”

Brewster spoke through clenched teeth. “You’re going to do the right thing for the first time in your life. I can’t get you out of this one, son, an’ even if I could . . . I wouldn’t. You gotta face up to this wrongdoin’ an’ make your own amends. Now come on.” Dragging Gage by the arm, he pounded down the boardwalk toward Sheriff Tate’s office.

Tressa squeezed Hattie’s arm, her eyes wide. “Aunt Hattie, do you think Gage will be sentenced to hang?”

Hattie hugged Tressa to her side. She ached for Gage and for Brewster, yet her heart sang at the choice Brewster had made. “I don’t know, darlin’. Maybe since he didn’t act on his own an’ is ’fessin’ up to his actions, the court’ll go easy on him.”

“Oh, I pray so.” She appeared to wilt, her shoulders slumping and head dropping.

She steered the girl toward Abel’s wagon. They’d take it to his ranch and care for his livestock as best they could. If Gage’s story was true and Vince Rylin had been behind the evil-doin’ of late, he wouldn’t be doing Abel any favors.

She helped Tressa onto the seat, then scuttled around to the other side and climbed aboard. As Hattie took up the reins, Tressa placed her hand over Hattie’s wrist. A smile trembled on her lips. “I’m so glad it’s over.”

Hattie bobbed her head in a nod, but she kept her lips tightly closed. No, it wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be over until the sheriff talked to Vince Rylin and Abel’s shooter was brought to justice.

32

“Sallie!” Tressa exclaimed when she stepped into the dining room Tuesday morning and spotted her friend sitting at the table with Paralee and Mabelle. Sallie jumped up and met her in the middle of the floor. The two girls hugged, laughter ringing.

Tressa pulled back. “When did you get here?”

“The sheriff brought me out yesterday evenin’ while ye was sleepin’. I stayed with Luella so I wouldn’t be disturbin’ ye.” Sallie’s face pinched in sympathy. “Aunt Hattie said ye had reason to be tired.”

Tressa chose not to dwell on the frightful experiences of Sunday afternoon. Her day of rest yesterday, alternately sleeping and praying, had restored her energy and her spirits. Now she would focus on getting Abel well. Tressa took Sallie by the shoulders. “Are you going to have to go back to jail?”

Sallie shook her head, her red curls bouncing. “The judge threw out the charges against Cole an’ me, thanks to Gage speakin’ up an’ sayin’ he an’ Mr. Rylin stole away with those cattle the night we sneaked away to find a justice of the peace.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved you’re all right and you’re back.” Then Tressa’s jaw dropped. “A justice of the peace . . . Sallie, are you and Cole married?”

Sallie hunched her shoulders, giggling. “We are. I love him so much, Tressa, an’ he loves me, too. I do regret worryin’ everyone, but we didn’t know how else to be together.”

Tressa hugged Sallie again. “I
knew
you and Cole hadn’t stolen those cattle.”

“Jail was a fearsome place, Tressa. I prayed an’ prayed to God to have the judge let me go.” Sallie flicked a glance over her shoulder toward the doorway that led to the kitchen before whispering, “Although to be truthful, I’d almost rather have faced a jail cell than Aunt Hattie. She gave me a most terrible scoldin’!”

Tressa laughed. Looping her hand through Sallie’s elbow, she led her to the table, and they sat as Luella entered carrying a platter of fried eggs and pancakes. Aunt Hattie followed with a pot of coffee. She sat and sent a smile around the table. “Sure is good to have all o’ my girls here this mornin’.” Her gaze lingered for a moment on Sallie and then drifted to Tressa. “Tressa, would you like to say grace?”

Tressa bowed her head and offered a heartfelt prayer of thanks for Sallie’s safe return and a plea for Abel’s full recovery. She asked God to bless the food, and everyone echoed her amen.

While they ate, Sallie regaled them with the tale of climbing down the ladder in the thunderstorm to meet Cole and of their ride across the rain-soaked prairie. “When we planned our sneakin’ away, we didn’t know the sky would open an’ pour down rain, but Cole said it was God’s way of coverin’ our tracks an’ any sound we might’ve made. ’Tis hard, stayin’ on the back of a rainslick horse, but Cole held me tight. He got me to Dodge safe an’ sound.” Sallie grinned. “But you’ll likely never see a more bedraggled bride an’ groom than what we was that night!”

Tressa marveled at Sallie’s determination to be with the man she loved. How perilous the journey must have been. Yet Sallie spoke as if she’d done nothing of great magnitude. She simply
had
to be with Cole, and nothing—not even a vicious thunderstorm—would have keep her from him.

“After we waked the justice of the peace an’ Cole gave him two dollars as payment for his service, we found a hotel that’d let us take a room.” Sadness pinched her face. “Burdened me that Cole had to sell his granddaddy’s gold pocket watch to get us money, but he said I was worth more’n the watch could ever be.”

With a sigh, Sallie continued. “I started waitin’ tables in a café an’ Cole did the sweepin’ an’ such in a dry goods store, but it weren’t his kind of work. He missed bein’ in the open, minglin’ with cattle. It was almost a relief when the sheriff found us and said he’d be sendin’ us back to Barnett. Cole hoped Mr. Samms might let him be workin’ at the ranch again.”

“But you were being sent to Barnett to face prosecution!” Paralee sat wide-eyed, staring at Sallie. “Weren’t you afraid?”

Sallie shrugged. “We knew we’d done no wrong. I was fearful, for sure, but Cole told me he’d been prayin’ for the truth to be found. An’ it was, thanks to Gage confessin’ his part in the stealin’.” Sallie’s face clouded. “Surely do feel bad about Mr. Samms bein’ hurt like he was. Cole says he’ll stay at the Lazy S an’ help until Mr. Samms is all better.” Sallie turned to Aunt Hattie. “What do ye think will be happenin’ to Gage?” Aunt Hattie put her fork on the edge of her plate and sighed. “It’ll be up to the judge, o’ course, but Brewster an’ me’ve been prayin’ for leniency. Gage did admit to his crime. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”

“An’ Mr. Rylin?” Tears winked in Sallie’s eyes. “When Tressa an’ me worked that week, I took a likin’ to the man. Can’t hardly believe he’s involved in such awful dealin’s.”

Aunt Hattie sighed. “Whole community’s shocked, Sallie. Why, Vince Rylin’s one o’ us! Brewster says the sheriff plans to send out a posse to locate Vince—no one’s seen hide nor hair o’ him since Sunday service. His poor son is worried sick. . . .”

Luella glared in Aunt Hattie’s direction. “I don’t care a fig about what happens to Vince Rylin, but Gage Hammond deserves to be drawn and quartered for what he did!”

A gasp left Tressa’s lips at the bitterness that spewed from Luella.

Aunt Hattie tipped her head. “You got some strong feelin’s there.”

“Yes, I do.” Luella spat the words, her narrowed eyes glinting with malice. “He stole more than Abel Samms’ cattle. He also took—” Tears flooded her eyes, and her chin quivered.

Aunt Hattie put down her fork. “Luella, what’re you sayin’?”

Luella flashed a rebellious look around the table. “I know what you’re thinking. You all know I sneaked off at night to . . . to be with Gage. But no matter what you might believe, I didn’t let him have his way with me. I told him he’d have to wait until after we were married, and that’s when he said he’d court me. But he lied.”

She sent a scathing look at Tressa. “Instead he courted Tressa. And when I confronted him about his lies, he told me I’d have to convince Tressa to marry him or he’d tell all the men in Barnett that I’d been a . . . a prostitute in New York and had given myself to him for free.” The venomous tone took on a hint of anguish. “He stole my dignity. How can I ever get that back?” She jumped up and ran from the room. The clatter of her feet on the stairs didn’t cover the sound of her weeping.

Aunt Hattie tossed her napkin onto the table. “Mabelle an’ Paralee, you two clean up the breakfast mess. Tressa, I was plannin’ to drive to town an’ check on Abel, but I think I better stay here.” She shot a meaningful glance toward the stairway. “Would you go in an’ see how he’s doin’? Sallie, you go with her—an’ take a rifle. Don’t want none o’ you girls roamin’ alone until Vince Rylin is caught.” She charged around the corner and thudded up the stairs.

Sallie pushed her plate aside. “Let’s go, Tressa.” As they hitched the horses to the wagon, Sallie said, “When we’ve left the doctor’s office, do ye think we might be able to go to the Lazy S an’ let me have a smidgen of time with Cole? I’m missin’ him terrible.”

Tressa lifted the traces over the horses’ backs and wrapped them around the brake handle. “I don’t see why not. Maybe we could go to the Lazy S first. We can return Abel’s horses to his barn since Cole and Ethan are there to care for them. Then we’ll go to town.”

In short order, the girls had tied Abel’s pair of geldings to the rear of the wagon and were heading down the road. Tressa flicked the reins and let out a giggle.

Sallie grinned. “What’re ye laughin’ at?”

“Me.” Tressa laughed again at Sallie’s puzzled expression. “Consider how very green I was when I arrived. Would you have thought I would learn to drive a wagon, ride a horse, or milk a cow?”

“Ye’ve surprised me, for sure. An’ yourself, too, I’d wager.”

“Oh yes.” Tressa sucked in her lips, organizing her thoughts. “Shortly after I came, Aunt Hattie told me that God had orchestrated the events that brought me to Kansas—that He had something special planned for me here. She was right. I found God and accepted Him as my Father.” She gave Sallie a tear-damp smile. “I’ve never been happier, Sallie, even though so many frightening things have occurred. I’m uncertain of what will come next, yet I trust that God will take care of me.”

Sallie sucked in a breath and grabbed Tressa’s hand. “Oh, Tressa! It gives my heart such a lift hearing ye speak this way! The night Cole an’ me run off, we had a talk about God. It were important to him that I be believin’ the same way as him. I tried to say I’d accept God just to make Cole happy, but the words wouldn’t be comin’ out of my mouth. Then I thought about Aunt Hattie—how kind she was, an’ the way she prayed to God like she
knew
He was there listenin’, an’ suddenly I was cryin’. I asked God to come to me. I asked for myself an’ not to please Cole. An’ He came to me, Tressa.”

“I’m so happy, Sallie.” Tressa gave Sallie’s hand a squeeze and then turned her attention forward. She let out a gasp. “Sallie, look!” She pointed to what remained of Abel’s barbed wire fence. The posts lay on the ground, the clipped wires coiling across the grass like snakes lazing in the sun.

Sallie clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Who would’ve done such a thing to a man lyin’ wounded in bed?”

Tressa’s heart thumped. “Vince Rylin must have come back. . . .” She pulled the reins, guiding the horses off the road and into Abel’s pasture. “Do you see any cattle?”

Sallie rose up on the seat and scanned the area. “He must’ve run ’em all off.”

Numb, Tressa let the reins lay slack in her lap. The horses clopped onward without direction, and Tressa jolted when the wagon rolled by the bare patch of ground that had housed the branding fire pit. She gave the reins a jerk and pointed to the dirt patch with the blackened center. Her eyes found another dark spot, and her heart lurched. Slowly, she climbed down from the wagon and walked to the place where Abel’s blood had seeped into the soil.

Sallie squatted beside her. “What is it?”

Tressa couldn’t answer. Abel’s blood had literally been poured into this ranch. How would he recover from the loss of his herd? How many burdens must one man bear? She lifted her head and spotted Abel’s gun lying in the grass. She picked it up, holding it away from her body.

Sallie’s round eyes stared at the gun, asking a silent question.

“It’s Abel’s,” Tressa said grimly. She carried the pistol to the wagon and laid it carefully on a crumpled gunny sack. Abel would surely want it back. She stared down at the gun, remembering placing it in Abel’s weak hand. “Sallie, I know men need weapons for hunting and for protection. But what possesses a man to aim something so dangerous at another human being and pull the trigger?”

Sallie dashed over and gave Tressa’s shoulders an understanding pat. Suddenly she stooped over and plucked something from the grass. “Tressa?” On her palm, she held the delicate gold-filigreed frame she’d taken from Abel’s highboy the week they had worked in his kitchen.

Tressa took the frame and gazed once more into the face of the lovely stranger. The image was now dust-marred, the frame bent, but the woman’s beauty was undeniable.

“Why do ye suppose it was out here?” Sallie asked.

Tressa swallowed the tears that gathered in her throat. “Abel . . . Mr. Samms . . . must have been carrying it with him, and he lost it when he was shot.” The implication made her chest ache. A man wouldn’t carry the image of a woman who meant nothing to him. Abel must care deeply for this woman, whoever she was. She slipped the little frame into her pocket. “We’ll give it to him when we visit him today. I . . . I’m sure he’ll be elated to know it wasn’t lost.”

A sob tried to escape, but she pushed it down. Hadn’t she just told Sallie God had something special planned for her? She must stop thinking of what she wanted and simply trust God to give her what she needed. “Let’s get these horses to the barn now, and—”

“Tressa!” Sallie pointed across the pasture. A wispy black cloud rose from the prairie a few miles ahead.

Smoke! Tressa broke out in a cold sweat. Aunt Hattie had sternly cautioned the girls about the danger of fires sweeping across the plains. She claimed a fire could destroy acres of land in a few minutes, aided by the strong Kansas wind and dry ground. “Get in the wagon, Sallie— quickly! We must stop that fire!”