Whispers from Yesterday (17 page)

Mikkel closed himself in his study for the better part of the day, and I know he was in prayer much of that time. I prefer to believe Grandfather Fritz is right.

I am beginning to be very round with child. I feel the baby moving and am warmed by the knowledge of what God has created.

Esther

FIFTEEN

Dusty’s heart nearly stopped beating the day the sheriff’s car came up the drive, trailed by a cloud of dust.

“Wait here,” he said to the three boys who were helping him stack firewood against the south side of the house. If the sheriff’s deputy was bringing bad news about Hal, Dusty wanted to hear it alone first, then break it to the others in the right way.

The deputy, Colin Reilly, unfolded his gangly, six-foot-seven-inch frame and stood beside the black-and-white car. He squinted against the bright midday sun as Dusty strode toward him. “Afternoon.”

Dusty nodded his return greeting.

Colin wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. “They found Miss Butler’s car in Portland, what’s left of it. It’s been stripped.”

“And Hal?”

“No sign of him. They think he abandoned the car because it quit running, although they can’t be sure there wasn’t foul play.” Colin tipped his hat slightly back on his head. “Has he got friends over that way?”

“Not that I know of. He grew up in this area, shuffled between different family members about every four to six months. I doubt any of them would know either.”

“Yeah, we haven’t had much help from any of the Junkers.”

“Has Hal tried to contact the girl? Patty Call?”

“No, and we’d know if he did. Mr. Call would make sure of that.” Colin shook his head. “He’s a hard, unforgiving man.”

Dusty glanced toward the house, then back again. “Want to come inside out of this heat?”

“No. Can’t stay. Just wanted to give you the news in person.” He tugged on his hat brim. “Miss Butler will need to decide what she wants done with what’s left of the vehicle.”

“I’ll tell her.”

The deputy got into the sheriff’s car, started the engine, and with a wave out the window drove away.

Dusty watched until Colin reached the highway, then turned toward the house. By that time, Karen was approaching.

“Is it Hal?” she asked. “Have they found him?”

“No, but they found your car.”

“Where?”

“In Portland.”

“He made it that far?” She stopped before him. “I didn’t think the Mustang had that many miles left in it.” “The kid’s good with engines.”

“Dusty?” Her voice lowered. “Is Hal going to be all right?” “I don’t know. I pray he will.”

“I wish I believed your prayers would make a difference.” Worry was etched in her pretty features, an earnest concern for someone other than herself.

Dusty wondered if she was aware how much she’d changed in the weeks she’d been at the ranch.

Or how much she’d changed him.

Impulsively, he reached out, taking hold of her hand and squeezing with his fingers. “Prayer makes a difference, Karen. Just not always in the way we expect.”

Her glance fell to their joined hands.

He was tempted to step closer, to brush the loose tendril of hair from her temple, maybe to kiss her neck below her ear. She looked up.

The air was hot, still, and unbroken by sound.

“Do you know why I came here, Dusty?” She withdrew her hand and took a step backward. “I thought a ranch meant money, and I figured, since my grandmother was so old, that I could hang around until she died and then inherit it, sell it, and go back to L.A. That was all I wanted.”

“And what do you want now?”

There was a glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” She spun on her heel and strode away.

As he watched her go, Dusty recalled a verse from that morning’s Bible reading: “ ‘For
I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.’”

He felt comforted by the words. He had plenty of reasons to hope in the future because God already had plans for him. Good plans. Plans for his welfare and not for calamity.

He didn’t know for certain what would happen with this ranch, with Hal, with Karen. He didn’t have a vision of the future. He didn’t have a detailed blueprint of what tomorrow would bring. He didn’t need one.

He had God’s promises instead.

I never should have told him why I came here,
Karen silently berated herself.
Why did I tell Dusty the truth about myself?

She skirted the house, going instead into Sophia’s garden. She followed the dirt-and-stone path that wound through the flowers and shrubs and trees, a garden that was watered and tended with loving care by an old woman. The vegetable patch was planted to provide food for the table, but the rest was there for pleasure, a feast for the eyes and the soul.

Karen felt in need of that feast now.

I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I want.

California seemed far away. Not in miles, although it certainly was that. No, it was something much more than physical distance she felt.

What’s happened to me?

Nothing made any sense. The despair that had once driven her to attempt to take her own life was gone, yet she remained confused and longing for answers. Was her confusion only because of this attraction she felt for Dusty Stoddard?

Of course. That had to be it. Falling for Dusty would confuse any normal, cosmopolitan woman of her generation.

If they’d been in Los Angeles, instead of stuck in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn’t have noticed him at all, let alone felt any attraction for him. He wasn’t her type. The plain truth was, in a county of nearly five million acres and less than ten thousand people, he was the only available man she’d seen above the age of twenty. That was the single reason for her attraction to him.

Well, that and his rugged good looks. Those didn’t hurt either.

She stopped in the middle of the path, the hot July sun beating down on her head and back.

No, that wasn’t the truth. There was much more about Dusty that appealed to her. There was his depth of character, a strength of purpose, that set him apart from any of the men of her previous acquaintance.

But that’s merely admiration. Nothing more.

If that were true, how did she explain the things she’d felt that day at Bonnet Creek? If that were true, how did she explain accompanying Dusty and the others the day they’d worked on the Echeverria barn?

I wanted to help. That’s all.

Who was she kidding?

I wanted to be with him. I wanted to be with Dusty.

As she continued along the path, she recalled the feel of Dusty’s hand holding hers. She recalled the heated look in his dark eyes. She wasn’t mistaken. He’d wanted to kiss her. And she would have let him if he’d tried.

“No wonder Mother thought me a lost cause,” she muttered. “Even when I know something isn’t good for me, I want it.”

She arrived at the bench beneath the willow and sat down with a sigh.

“O God,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant it as a prayer, and yet somehow it became one. She looked upward.

“What am I to do?”

Wait.

Her breath caught, and a fluttering sensation swept through her. The word was there and then it was gone, but it had been oh so real.

“Wait for what?” she asked softly.

She heard no reply, only the rustle of leaves as they danced to the tune of the never-ceasing wind blowing across the Owyhee desert.

Tuesday, February 1, 1938

Dear Diary,

I love being married!

It struck me this morning how very blessed I am. It was God who brought Mikkel into my life. Without Him, what were the chances of Mikkel leaving Wisconsin and coming to our small town in Oregon just so that he and I could meet?

None, indeed, without the divine hand of God guiding him there.

Mikkel and I begin every day with Bible reading and prayer. I learn so much in those quiet times together, just the two of us with our Lord, praying in agreement, talking about God’s holy word. But there is more I yearn to know and understand.

Mikkel tells me I must be patient. That life is a continuous lesson to be learned one step at a time.

Oh, but I am an impatient woman. I hope our baby is like Mikkel and not me.

Father in heaven, may this child I carry in my womb be a child of God from an early age. May he be trained up in the way he should go so that when he is old, he will not depart from it. Amen.

Esther

SIXTEEN

August arrived at the Golden T Ranch, a month of hot winds, blowing sands, relentless sun, and scant chance of rain.

Hal had been gone more than five weeks, but there was still no word of his whereabouts. Daily Sophia and Dusty prayed, asking God to protect him. Beyond that, all they could do was trust and hope.

As for the other boys, Dusty was pleased with the progress they’d made. Each had come to the Golden T with unique needs and ways of acting out those needs. And each had responded positively to the love and discipline that were the hallmarks of this youth camp. Noah had made a commitment to Christ in late July. Billy, who had experienced the changing power of God’s grace earlier in the year, had become the older boy’s mentor. And Ted, who had been the most resistant to church and the message of the gospel, seemed more open now, giving Dusty hope that he, too, would find peace with God.

But tonight he wasn’t thinking about the well-being of his boys. He was thinking about Karen, a particularly easy thing to do, sitting as they were across a campfire from each other. They weren’t alone, of course. Ted, Noah, and Billy were with them, as was Sophia. The youth group from church had joined them too, along with Grant, Wendy, the youth pastor, and his wife.

The barbecue was an annual event at the Golden T, and everyone looked forward to it. Plenty of food. Plenty of good company, games, and laughter. And after nightfall, a marsh-mallow roast and songfest around a large campfire.

Karen and Billy sat side by side in lawn chairs, each of them holding straightened wire hangers toward the fire. Karen smiled brightly, something she hadn’t done much lately. At least not when Dusty was around. He didn’t have to be an Einstein to understand she was doing her best to keep him at arm’s length. She was probably right, too, but it didn’t change the way he felt about her.

He’d never seen Karen look lovelier than she did tonight. Flickering firelight turned her pale hair from the color of wheat to a coppery orange. He wished he could run his fingers through it, feel its silkiness.

Could she be the one for me, Lord? Or am I getting my eyes off of You?

“You lost another one?” Billy cried as Karen’s marshmallow dropped into the fire, his tone clearly indicating what he thought of her roasting skills. “You’d better let me do it for you.”

“Maybe I’d better.” She shook her head, still smiling. “I told you I’ve never done this before.”

“How’d you get to be so old without learning how to roast marshmallows?”

Again she laughed. “So old?” She looked up, and her gaze met Dusty’s. For a change, her smile didn’t fade away.

Encouraged, he asked, “Yes, how
did
you get to be so old, Miss Butler, without knowing something that important?”

“I honestly don’t know, sir.”

“All of what? Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-seven, thank you very much. And
you’re
old enough to know you should never ask a lady her age.”

His grin broadened. “Oops. Sorry.”

“How come?” Billy interjected with his usual curiosity.

“Basic rules of life, my young friend,” Dusty answered. “Just basic rules of life.”

“Sounds dumb. People ask me how old I am, and I don’t mind.”

Karen laughed again. “You have a point.”

“Get your guitar, Dusty,” Grant interrupted from somewhere beyond the ring of firelight. “We’re ready to sing.”

Karen looked away, and the moment of easy camaraderie was broken.