Lightning and Lace (14 page)

Travis felt his face redden. “Then we need to talk to the sheriff or your brothers.”

“No need. Morgan was there. I—I hit him. I mean Lester. Slapped him across the face. I suppose that was a sin, but it sure felt good.”

He wanted to laugh. The idea of tiny Bonnie walloping big old Lester was better than lit candles on a Christmas tree.

“In front of the town’s lawyer? Your brother? In the rain?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Yes.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Have to be. I’m a preacher.”

Her lips turned up, and she began to laugh. His began as a chuckle, then a roar.

“Did you flatten him in the street?” Travis finally said.

“No. But I thought he’d look quite dandy in the mud.” Suddenly she sobered. “He was really angry. He said that you and I . . . Well, you and I were—”

Travis understood exactly what Lester had insinuated. “Were behaving shamelessly?”

She stared at her folded hands. “That’s it exactly. I wanted to warn you because he might tell others.”

He rubbed his palms together. No man should be allowed to bully a woman. “Maybe I should have a talk with him.”

“Might make it worse.”

“Lester’s not happy with me, either.” Lord, is it going to happen again? But this is different, isn’t it? Bonnie is good and kind and respectable.

“Do I dare ask why?”

“He tried to tell me how to manage the church, and I refused to follow his direction.”

“I see. Is there anything my family can do?”

She tilted her head, and he grew even warmer. Travis needed help. This woman had stolen his heart, and he couldn’t do a thing about it.

“Nothing except pray. Lester’s like a drowning man. I want to see him get saved, but he has to reach out for help.” He thought about the many people who didn’t know what Jesus had done for them. “I could give a few sermons about the evils of gossip.”

“That might help. Everyone knows Lester gives a lot to the church,” she said. “Some folks befriend him because of it.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s his church. It’s not mine, either. The church belongs to God. He’ll handle Lester. In the meantime, we need to be ready for whatever he throws our way.”

“I’d rather have the devil throw dirt in my face.”

Would this woman never cease to amaze him? “You and I have a way of upsetting Lester. I’m not concerned.” But he was. The problem could explode like the situation at his other church.

“This is not exactly an enjoyable thing to have in common.” She moistened her lips. “I guess we have two. I forgot about Zack.”

“Zack is getting better—and at times he’s good company.”

She giggled. “I ought to cry over this, and here I am laughing.”

“It’s the best medicine. I imagine Doc Grant says that.”

She nodded, but her eyes misted. He wanted to take her hand and tell her Lester Hillman would never bother her again, but he couldn’t guarantee that. If the truth surfaced, Travis wasn’t much better of a man than Lester.

“I can’t tell if it’s going to rain or not,” Travis peered up into the sky. Gray clouds rushed away from them like bubbles in a washtub. Maybe the nasty weather had decided to let them go fishing after all.

“I have a feeling in my bones that the sun will come out,” Zack said.

“You sound like Jake Weathers.”

Zack limped across the porch in a grand imitation of old Jake and his bad knees. “Good preachin’ this mornin’,” he said in Jake’s booming voice.

Travis laughed. “Hush, before we both get into trouble. All right, let’s go. A mess of fried fish sounds good.”

They saddled up their horses and rode carrying fishing poles. The Morning Star had the buckets, and Bonnie had promised the other two children would dig for worms.

At the ranch, Michael Paul and Lydia waited outside. Excitement sparkled from their faces as though the circus had come to town.

“Mama has a big lunch for us.” Lydia Anne spread her arms wide. “And we’re going to have fish for dinner. Lots of it.”

Travis swung down from his horse and gave her a hug. For certain, she was the spittin’ image of her mama.

“Sure glad it quit raining,” Michael Paul said. “Though it made digging for worms easier. We have a whole bucketful.”

Travis tousled the boy’s hair. Lord, I hope loving these three as much as I do is all right. Sometimes his mind wandered to other thoughts—grand ones, except it took only a pinch of reality for him to understand those kinds of dreams weren’t for a preacher who had a shady past.

Zack lifted Lydia Anne into his arms. “You’re growing, tadpole.”

She giggled. “Mama has taught me how to ride. Next week she’s gonna let me ride without a saddle.”

Zack laughed. “Whoa, like an Indian princess?”

“Yes, and then we’re gonna race everybody in the county.” Her blond pigtails bounced with every word. “Mama says we’ll win ’cause we’re wrong women.”

Zack laughed. “You mean strong women?”

She nodded.

Bonnie stepped out onto the back porch with a huge basket. Travis’s stomach did a little flip, but he tried to ignore it. When he took the basket from her, he noticed a hint of pink to her cheeks. Ignoring his unsettling emotions, he set their packed lunch on the awaiting wagon.

“Want to join us?” he said. Hope raised a notch.

She smiled and shook her head. “Not this time. Juanita and I have more than a week’s worth of laundry to do after all the rain.” She tilted her head and folded her arms across her chest. “Take care of my children, Brother Travis.”

“You know I will.”

She sighed. “If not for all of this work and my children running out of clothes to wear, I’d be bringing my pole. Maybe next time.”

Yes, maybe next time.

A few moments later, the small band took a wagon path that wound through the Morning Star Ranch. Travis started singing “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen.” Michael Paul joined in, and soon Zack and Lydia Anne were singing. Travis remembered how that song stayed fixed in his head during the six months he’d stayed alone in a Tennessee cabin while he waited for God to give him direction. The old slave song meant more than a freeing from captivity for him—it meant a total dependency upon Jesus for all of his problems and needs.

“We sound right good,” he said. “Maybe we all ought to sing together in church.”

“No thanks,” Zack said. “I sing worse than Miss Scott at choir rehearsal.”

“Now, Zack.” Travis fought the urge to laugh.

“I don’t think anyone sounds as bad as she does,” Michael Paul said.

“You forget she has a wonderful heart for the Lord, and I hear she does a mighty fine job teaching,” Travis said. “We all have special gifts to use for others.”

“And singin’ ain’t one of them for Miss Scott or me,” Zack said. “I mean isn’t one of them.”

Travis elected to change the subject before the talk about the schoolteacher got out of hand. “Would you look at all this beauty around us? Here it is mid-November, the grass is green, and we barely need a jacket. Where I come from, it’s colder, and the mountains can see more than one snowfall.”

“But you like it better here, right?” Lydia Anne said.

“I do. I really do.” Oh, how he loved this spot of paradise called Texas and the folks who made him feel welcome.

“Do you have brothers and sisters and a mama?” Lydia Anne said.

“Sure do. Five brothers, two sisters, and God-loving parents.”

“And you miss them?” the little girl said. “I don’t remember my papa, but I miss him anyway.”

He swung her a smile. “Early in the morning before the sun comes up, I think about home. Sometimes I can smell coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. I see my father sitting on the front porch in his rocker and smoking his pipe—all the little curls of smoke rising above his white head. If I think on it long enough, I hear Mama humming a hymn. When I was a boy, I used to count the wrinkles in her face. She told me they were from frettin’ about her children.”

“She must be very old,” Michael Paul said.

“I’m the youngest.”

“How old is the oldest?” Michael Paul continued.

Travis chuckled. “He’s forty-three, and we’re ten years apart.”

“You’re just a few years older than our mama.” Zack studied him curiously.

Travis had regretted his response the moment the words left his mouth. His disguise of looking older would no longer fool the twelve-year-old.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my age to yourself,” Travis said. “I prefer folks thinking I’m real old.”

“Why?” Zack said.

“Makes him look like a better preacher,” Michael Paul said. “Grandpa is real old, and he’s good.”

Thank you. “Hey, is that the creek up ahead beyond those trees?”

“Sure is,” Zack said. “We’ll do us some fine fishing today.”

The day trailed on, and the fish were in the mood to get caught. Lydia Anne fished until she got tired, and then she played on the riverbank. With her chattering, it was a wonder the fish continued to nibble on their lines. When the sun shone straight overhead, they ate the fried chicken, green beans, biscuits, and raisin cookies packed away in the wagon. Travis wanted the day never to end, and from the laughter greeting him, the children felt the same.

Clouds moved in, and a stillness caused Travis to take note of their surroundings. He studied the sky turning a hideous shade of yellow-green, the same color he often imagined the eyes of demons. The air grew thick, and the weight of it pressed down on his chest, while the hairs on his neck bristled. A strange sensation in his ears moved him to search all around for signs of danger. Not a hint of a breeze rustled, nor did a bird or an animal utter a sound of life. In the distance, thunder rumbled its warning. He felt Zack’s gaze upon him. The boy felt the same foreboding. Why hadn’t he noticed the change in weather?

“I think we’ve caught enough fish for one day.” Travis pulled his empty pole from the water and noticed a crafty fish had stolen his worm. “This must be a sign for us to head back. The fish are stealing our bait.”

“Do we have to leave now?” Michael Paul said. “Y’all have more fish than me.”

“It’s fixin’ to rain, and from the looks of the sky, it’ll storm.” Travis grinned. “I don’t mind getting wet, but lightning has my respect.”

Michael Paul stared up at the strange-looking sky. “I’ve never seen the sky green before.” He pointed toward the east. “Reminds me of the moss under the walking bridge behind our house.”

Lydia Anne stood to get a better look, her upturned nose perpendicular to the ground beneath her feet. “I don’t like thunder or lightning. Why does everything smell funny?”

“It’s the worms,” Zack said. “Let me help you with your pole. I’ll carry you to the wagon on my back.”

“Oh, would you, Zack?” She handed him her pole. “I’m ready. I like you better since you’re nice.”

He grinned. “You only say I’m nice so I’ll give you a ride.” He bent down, and she wrapped her little legs around his back and curled her hands around his neck. A crack of thunder caused her to gasp. “One, two, three, four.” Lightning flashed. “Oh, I don’t like this at all.”

Travis sensed Zack’s gaze upon him. He hadn’t fooled the boy for an instant.

Zack pulled a fish from his pole and threw it back in. “We don’t need it,” he said to a questioning Michael Paul. “Here, you take the fish bucket, and I’ll grab the poles.”

Travis snatched up the remains from their picnic and hastily packed them onto the wagon bed. He untied the mare and noted her ears lay back flat against her head. She pawed at the ground, then snorted. The deadly still air sent a silent message. Thunder reverberated around them, sounding like a tree had snapped in two. Immediately, lightning zigzagged across a dark blue sky.

Lydia Anne glanced around her. “What happened to the wind?”

“It’s quiet so you can sleep in the back of the wagon,” Zack said. “Here, I’ll sit in the back with you, and Michael Paul can ride beside Brother Travis.”

The little girl seemed satisfied and snuggled against her brother’s chest.

Within moments, the horse and wagon trotted along the road, but the air gave Travis a disconcerting awareness, making him feel slightly dizzy. The pleasant November afternoon had changed into a devil’s brew of evil. And they were in the middle of it.

“Brother Travis.” Zack pointed to the left.

Travis turned his attention to a green sky and a funnel cloud heading straight toward them.

Oh, God, no. He searched the terrain for safety. At least they were out of the grove of pine and oak trees, but they didn’t need to be the tallest objects when the lightning decided to strike. He couldn’t drive the wagon straight into the twister. Neither did he relish the thought of attempting to outrun it on foot with three children.

“We’re right in its path.” Travis pulled the horse and wagon to a halt. The children scrambled out. Travis pulled Lydia Anne from Zack’s arms, and the boy rushed around to the frightened mare and freed her from the wagon. Rain began to fall in heavy drops that felt like stones pelting their bodies. Lydia Anne cried out, and Travis tried to shelter her with his arm. The driving rain transformed into marble-sized hail and attacked their rain-soaked bodies. This time the little girl screamed, but the boys were silent, perhaps too frightened to speak.

“I see a low spot beneath a hill over there.” Travis shouted and pointed to a crevice to the right of them.

Zack tugged at Michael Paul’s hand and raced toward their only source of shelter. Travis prayed harder than he could ever remember. Fear mounted in each breath, and each step reminded him of how quickly life could be swept away. The area safest from the tornado set them up as targets for the lightning.

God, I am so scared for these children. They are helpless against the force of this awful wind. I don’t care for my life, but for them, I pray Your divine protection.

They headed toward a small indentation at the bottom of a hill. Travis gathered the three together with the boys on each side of Lydia Anne and laid his own body over the top of them. He looked up and shuddered. In the blinding rain, he saw a swirl of wind move on their heels. A sound like a growling beast met his ears, growing louder and louder. Then came an eerie roar that reminded him of a mighty train barreling down the tracks.

“Pray!” he shouted over the twister’s roar. “Pray, children, for our Lord to protect us.” He felt Lydia Anne and Michael Paul’s bodies shiver, but Zack remained still.

The ground shook, and the sound of nature burst forth like a hundred cannons firing in his ears. He was afraid for himself, too. If death be for us all, then let it come quickly. But remember these little ones who deserve to live and tell of Your mighty deliverance.

As quickly as the green sky had spread a net of dread and terror around them, so did the fear dissipate as nature’s fury whirled away. The rain softened and slowly stopped. Travis lifted himself from the children, greatly concerned for the well-being of the little girl who lay beneath him. A single tear rolled over his cheek as he viewed each unharmed child entrusted to his care. His gaze focused on the show of nature’s destruction all around them. Not five feet from them, a splintered pine had been tossed and thrown much like Zack might have tossed a load of firewood. What trees hadn’t been uprooted were bent and leaned precariously to the ground. Travis and the children turned in all directions. Their faces grew pale at the devastation surrounding them. There was no sign of the wagon.

In the middle of the same shattered grove of pines from which they had run to escape falling branches stood a small straight pine, unaffected by the twister.

“That tree is like us,” Michael Paul said. “The twister didn’t bother it at all.”

Travis smiled and wiped his wet eyes. “We need to get on our knees and thank God for delivering us today.”

Solemnly, each of them knelt in a circle and held hands while Travis thanked God for His protection. “Is there anything any of you want to say?” he said. For a moment, only silence met his ears.

“Dear Jesus, I was so scared that I forgot to pray for Mama to be safe,” Michael Paul said. “So, if it is not too late, I pray for her, Juanita, Thomas, and the other ranch hands to be all right in the storm cellar and for them not to worry about us.”

“Thank You, Jesus, for Brother Travis,” Lydia Anne said. “We would have blowed away if he hadn’t asked You to save us.”

Several more moments of silence followed. When Travis opened his eyes to view Zack, he saw the boy crying silently. “Are you all right?”

The boy nodded. He lifted his head, and the tears continued to flow.

“Would you like to talk, or do you want us to leave you alone?” Travis wanted to take him into his arms and comfort him much like his father would have done, but his attempts in the past had not been well met.

Zack’s water-filled gaze bore straight into Travis. “I need to say something,” he said. “While I lay on the ground listening to you pray for us, I realized I wanted to be just like you. I wanted Jesus in my life like Grandpa and you talk about. I wanted to live to tell you that I’m sorry for being rude and mean to you, Michael Paul, Lydia Anne, Mama, and all the other folks around me. I told Jesus I was sorry and asked Him to forgive me. I told Him I deserved to die and let the rest of you live. Y’all are good, and I’m bad. But I want to be good.” He swallowed hard. “Jesus must have heard me, for a wonderful feeling came over me. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I think Jesus must have come into my heart ’cause He made me feel like nothing would really hurt me or you . . . . Is that what happened, Brother Travis?”