A Hopeful Heart (33 page)

Tressa remembered Luella’s mad dash from the dining room. Had it only been this morning? It seemed as though she’d lived two lifetimes in the last ten hours. “Were you able to assure Luella that Gage’s lies hadn’t reached the community?”

Aunt Hattie nodded. “But we need to be prayin’ for that girl. She carries a heap o’ anger. Her life before she come here . . . well, it wasn’t so good.” She shot Tressa a meaningful look. “When you grow up without bein’ shown love, it makes you uncertain how to reach out for it when you’re big.”

Once again, Tressa experienced a rush of gratitude for the affection she’d received from her parents before moving into her aunt and uncle’s home. She’d been given an example of loving that she longed to emulate in her own life. “I’ll pray for her.”

“You’re a good girl, Tressa.”

“Aunt Hattie?” Her voice sounded raspy, her throat raw from breathing smoke. “Do you think someone from town will let Mr.

Samms know about his house?”

Aunt Hattie harrumphed. “Oh, he’ll know before sundown. Barnett’s not exactly known for keepin’ secrets.”

“I didn’t get to check on him today, so I’d like to go tomorrow.”

The older woman’s lips twitched. “Why sure, darlin’. First thing in the mornin’ you hitch a horse to the wagon an’ ride on in to town. I’d think lookin’ at your purty face would be good medicine for Abel.”

Tressa cupped her hand over the little gold picture frame that still rested in her pocket. She hoped the pretty face in the picture would be good medicine for Abel. Everything else in his house was gone. This one remaining belonging would surely bring him a small measure of joy.

34

For a man in need of rest, Abel sure had to deal with a passel of disruptions. He folded his good arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling as he replayed snippets of conversations he’d had with the string of visitors who’d come and gone.

When Glendon Shultz and Bob Clemence had shown up yesterday right after supper, all grubby and smelling of smoke, to tell Abel his house was gone, one thought had struck:
I prayed for myself
. And the strength and peace he’d requested for the person whose land was threatened by the fire washed over him even as one fat tear rolled down Glendon’s cheek, leaving a clean trail in the soot that stained his face. He’d ended up comforting his neighbors, assuring them he’d be all right. They’d crept away, murmuring that the news must have tetched Abel’s head to make him so calm. But Abel knew it was God giving him strength.

An hour after Glendon and Bob departed, Brewster Hammond had come in, his face sad but determined. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he’d withdrawn a leather packet from a pocket inside his jacket and laid it on Abel’s pillow. “This here is every penny you’d’ve earned over the past few years if those cattle hadn’t been stolen from you. Gage kept a count, an’ when he took my cattle to market, he handed over the proceeds from your purloined beef to Vince.”

Abel had argued, “You don’t owe me nothin’. Vince’s the only one oughtta be makin’ restitution.”

But Hammond shook his head. “Nope. My boy was involved, an’ I’ll settle his debt. I can’t go backward an’ keep Gage from followin’ such a hurtsome path, but at least I can make things right with you. You keep that money, Abel—use it to build a new house on your property.”

Abel had nearly swallowed his tongue. “You mean you don’t want to buy my land no more? This’d be a good time for me to sell, what with my house gone, my cattle run off, an’ me not even able to carry a fork of eggs to my mouth.”

“You keep that land, Abel. I wanted to expand my holdings so Gage . . .” Brewster’s chin had quivered. Giving Abel’s good shoulder a solid pat, he’d repeated, “You keep that land. It’s what your pa would’ve wanted, an’ God’ll give you the strength to rebuild.”

Before leaving, Brewster had shaken Abel’s hand and promised to pray for him. Abel couldn’t help but marvel at the change in the older rancher’s demeanor. He’d seemed broken, yet somehow stronger than ever before.

The most difficult visit came shortly after breakfast this morning. Sheriff Tate had told Abel that a burned body, along with an empty jug of whiskey, had been found in the rubble of his house. No doubt Vince Rylin. Fury had swelled Abel’s chest when he realized Vince probably had deliberately set the fire. But before he could give vent to the feelings, he’d suddenly thought of Amanda. He’d carried a grudge against her for two years, and holding on to it had turned him away from God. Did he want another grudge separating him from his heavenly Father?

Flesh battled with spirit, a silent tug-of-war under his skin. And suddenly Tressa’s voice echoed through his memory:
“God is very clear on His expectation concerning holding a grudge. He advises not to let the sun go down on our anger. . . .”
Abel released his breath in a whoosh, choosing to let the anger go. He looked the sheriff square in the face and said, “Vince was like an uncle to me all durin’ my growin’-up years. He was my pa’s best friend. Don’t know what made him turn on me, but . . . I pray God’ll have mercy on his soul.”

The sheriff had stared at him like he’d taken leave of his senses.

Abel then asked, “What about Ethan?”

“No idea where the boy went, but accordin’ to Cole he tried to buck his pa. I’m pret’ sure he ain’t involved in none of these dirty dealin’s.”

Thinking about it now, Abel couldn’t help but mourn the loss of the man who’d been so important to his family. He offered up a prayer that Ethan would return. Ethan was the closest thing to a brother Abel had, and he didn’t want to lose him along with everything else.

The doctor’s wife bustled in, chasing away his melancholy thoughts. Clean sheets filled her arms. “Mr. Samms, since you’re awake, can I move you to a chair long enough for me to change your bedding?” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve been lying on those sheets for two days now. They’re stale.”

Abel swallowed a chuckle. There’d been times he’d gone a full two
weeks
without washing the sheets on his bed at home, but he didn’t figure Mrs. Kasper would be pleased to know it. “That’d be fine, ma’am.” Pain attacked his shoulder when he strained to sit up, but the sharp throbs dulled after he settled into the chair in the corner of the room. He sat very still and watched Mrs. Kasper whip the soiled sheets from the bed. The sight brought another image to mind—Tressa, in his bedroom, stripping his bedding.

Deep regret smacked him at the thought of Tressa. What a scare Vince had given her. Vague memories—of her hands stroking his hair, her lips brushing his cheek—lingered on the fringes of his mind, but he couldn’t be sure if the memories were real or imagined. Really, it didn’t matter much. God had used Tressa to reopen his heart to the idea of loving, of building a family. At last he’d healed from the pain of Amanda’s rejection.

“All right, Mr. Samms.” Mrs. Kasper’s shrill voice broke through his thoughts. “Let’s get you back in that bed.”

Abel grimaced. “Can’t I stay in the chair a little longer? Been layin’ down so much my backside’s nearly forgot its purpose.”

The woman clapped her hand over her mouth, and Abel feared he’d scandalized her. But her shoulders shook in silent laughter. After several seconds, she lowered her hand and gave him a crooked half scowl, half smile. “Very well, Mr. Samms. But only for a few more minutes.” Snatching up the rumpled sheets, she headed out the door.

Abel leaned his head against the chair’s high back, cupping the elbow of his injured arm with his good hand to keep from jiggling his shoulder. As soon as that wound healed, he could go home. Eagerness to return to his ranch made his feet itch to carry him out of the room, down the hallway, and all the way to the Lazy S.

Then he remembered the fire. He didn’t have a home waiting anymore. And if the house was gone, everything inside it was gone, too. The furniture Ma had carted all the way from South Carolina to Kansas—enough to fill two wagons—had been burned to cinders. He glanced at his trousers and then at the new, neatly folded shirt resting on top of the bureau across the room. They were the only clothes he owned. The money in the packet Brewster had brought in wouldn’t cover everything he’d need to reestablish himself.

“What’ll I do now, God?” He whispered the words aloud. But it wasn’t a whiny complaint—just a heartfelt desire for guidance. The strength and peace he’d prayed for earlier once again flooded him. He smiled. “At least I still got the barn an’ bunkhouse. There’ll be a roof over my head until I can rebuild.”

He yawned. That bed was looking better minute by minute. He drew in a deep breath and called, “Mrs. Kasper?”

Within seconds, the woman scurried into the room.

“I’d like to rest again now, if you’d help me, please.”

Her firm arm around his waist offered support as she guided him to the bed. He leaned into the pillows, releasing a sigh of contentment. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good rest.” She flipped the sheets to his chin and headed to the door. But she came to a stop in the doorway and plunked her fists on her hips. Abel looked at her straight spine and aggravated pose. What had he done to rile her now? But she sent the scolding comment to someone in the hallway. “You can’t visit right now. Mr. Samms needs to sleep.”

“Oh . . . I apologize. I’d hoped . . .”

Abel’s heart fired into his throat when he heard the timid response. He jammed his left elbow against the mattress and pushed himself up. “Tressa?”

Tressa peeked into the room. Her pale blue eyes—wide and hopeful—met his. A smile curved her lips, doubling the beat of his pulse. He gulped and gave Mrs. Kasper his best pleading look. “Just one more visitor this mornin’? It’ll be the last one.”

Mrs. Kasper’s scowl deepened. “Mr. Samms . . .”

“I’ll sleep all afternoon. I promise.”

The woman let out a mighty huff, shaking her head. “Taking care of you is worse than caring for a dozen cantankerous children.” She threw her hands in the air. “All right! Wear yourself out. But don’t complain to me later on when you’re too tired to eat your dinner!” She stomped past Tressa, still muttering.

Tressa hovered in the doorway, her hands clasped at her waist. Abel flopped back on the pillows and waggled his fingers at her. “Her bite’s worse’n her bark. Come on in.”

She sent a furtive glance down the hallway. “Are you sure it’s all right? If you need to rest . . .”

“I’ll rest this afternoon. Please.” He beckoned again, offering a smile. “Come in. I’d like to talk with you.”

Slowly, she advanced a few feet forward, stopping midway between the door and the bed. Her eyes traveled from his face to his bandaged shoulder. Her forehead crinkled briefly, and then she met his gaze again. “Does it still hurt?”

Truthfully, the dull throb never left, but he shook his head. “Not much.” So many words cluttered his brain, he didn’t know what to say first. “Miss Tressa . . .”

“Yes?” She tipped her head, her face sweetly attentive.

He wanted to leap out of the bed and crush her in his arms. He swallowed. “Thank you for goin’ after help like you did. Probably wouldn’t still be alive if you hadn’t taken off that way.”

Her chin quivered. “You wouldn’t have been out in that pasture, wouldn’t have gotten shot at all, if I hadn’t taken you there.”

“That what you think? My gettin’ shot’s your fault?”

She bobbed her head once, so slight he almost missed it.

“Aw, Miss Tressa, don’t blame yourself. It would’ve happened no matter what.” Remembering Vince’s emotionless recital, Abel cringed. Yes, Vince had been gunning for him, and it had nothing to do with Tressa. He said, “ ’Sides, I’m kinda glad it come about.”

Her eyes flew wide. “W-what? You’re glad you were
shot
?”

Abel chuckled. “I know it sounds odd, but . . . layin’ out there, hurtin’ an’ scared, I got to thinkin’ what you said about trustin’ God when you’re feelin’ afraid. So I called out to Him. An’ He answered.

He took me back, an’ I told Him I won’t be doin’ no more strayin’.”

“Oh, Abel . . .” Tressa’s eyes filled with tears, and she took one step forward. “Aunt Hattie was right. Sometimes a bad thing
can
be a good thing.”

“Aunt Hattie’s usually right.” Abel shook his head. “Save ourselves a lot of time an’ bother if we’d just listen to her an’—” He clamped his mouth shut. There were other things he wanted to tell Tressa—feelings he could barely contain—but what could he offer her now? His house was gone, his hired hands were gone, and his cattle were scattered. He shouldn’t be making declarations of love and devotion when there were no assurances he’d have the means to take care of her.

The silence between them lengthened, and suddenly Tressa gave a little start like someone had poked her in the back. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled something out. Taking one more step forward, she held out her hand and bobbed it.

Something glinted in the light. Abel squinched his eyes at the object. “Whatcha got there?”

Leaning forward, she deposited Amanda’s portrait in the little gold frame on the edge of the mattress and then scuttled backward. “Sallie found it lying out where . . . where you’d fallen. Your house, and everything in it, was destroyed by the fire.” Her voice sounded tight, like the words got stuck and she had to push them out. “But this wasn’t ruined. I thought you’d like to have it . . . as a reminder of . . .”

He stared at the gold frame, and the irony of the situation hit as solid as a boulder dropping on his head. A laugh built in his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to hold it back, but it exploded out.

Tressa took a stumbling backward step. Abel’s laughter filled her with confusion. What could he possibly find funny? He’d suffered such loss—his long-time hired hand, his home and belongings, his cattle, and very nearly his life! Was this laughter a maniacal response to overwhelming sorrow? Perhaps she should retrieve the doctor. She spun toward the door.

“Miss Tressa, please—wait!”

She turned back at his breathless request. He held his palm to his shoulder as he continued to shake with laughter, but the raucous sounds of mirth ceased. Finally he drew a deep breath and released it, lowering his hand to his lap.

He sent her a crinkly smile. “C’mon over here, Miss Tressa. Lemme tell you about this little picture.”

Hesitantly, she approached the bed, maintaining a decent distance between the two of them. She listened as he told her the woman’s name and his relationship to her. Jealousy reared its ugly head when he shared he’d intended to marry the girl, but empathy at Amanda’s desertion chased the envy away.

After the story ended, Tressa stared at him in amazement. “Abel— Mr. Samms—how do you bear it all? You’ve truly lost more than any man ought to. It seems so very unfair!” As soon as the words escaped, she bit down on her tongue, silently berating herself. She’d come to offer encouragement, but instead she’d reminded him of his troubles.