A Lady in Defiance (17 page)

She felt a sting in her conscience. Naomi knew with that last
statement, she had overstepped her bounds in this discussion. He hadn’t sent
her here to tell them about justice. God was offering the gift of grace to
Defiance. Who was she to decide whether the gift was delivered?

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried, hiding her face in her
hands. “I need John here. He softened my rough edges. Corrected me with a
gentle heart. If John was here, he could have helped me see them as lost souls,
not just prideful, arrogant sinners blinded by their own rebelliousness.”
Slowly, though, a faint light of understanding dawned in her heart with those
last words. She peered through her fingers at the water shimmering in the
moonlight. “That−that wasn’t his job, though, was it?”

Emilio popped into her mind. She hadn’t expected to find
anyone in this town worthy of her compassion and now she and her sisters had
practically adopted the waif. Then she thought of Daisy. How had she come to be
here? What was her story?

What had turned Rose’s heart to pure hate? Had she ever
thought once about a god who loves her? Could Mr. McIntyre ever come to
understand the sacrifice Christ made and why? Hate, anger, self-loathing,
greed, all things that grew in this town like weeds. Yet God’s redeeming love
was here, too, and someone had to tell them. John wasn’t here to do it for her.
Rebecca and Hannah couldn’t do it alone.

In her dream, God had asked her to take them the light. “But
we’re so unprepared, Father. At least I am.” She sniffled and wiped her nose
with the back of her hand. “Rebecca and Hannah are miles ahead of me in their
faith. They’re full of compassion. I’m full of grief and anger…at the people of
Defiance…at you.” She pulled the blanket tighter and thought about her losses.
“I feel like I’m nothing without John. But I know I’m nothing without you.”
Naomi continued to stare at the stream for a time, no thoughts, no words, no more
arguments. The rushing water filled the silence and she waited.

Look at my cross,
the Lord whispered.
You can see it now. John no longer
stands between us. Look with your own eyes and your own heart and see that I
gave my life even for these.

That revelation grew in her heart and, like a burning sun,
overtook the darkness of her grief. “I did let John stand between us, didn’t
I?” Her chin quivered and her throat tightened as she thought of how
desperately she wanted him back. “You’ve broken my heart, Lord,” Naomi mourned,
her heart full of memories of her beloved. As if she was lifting the weight of
the world, she stood and looked up at the black sky dusted with diamonds. Eyes
shining with tears, she opened her arms in surrender. “You took the one thing
that mattered most to me in this world. Please help me to accept it and do what
you’ve sent me here to do.” She collapsed to her knees, sobbing. “Break me…here
am I, Lord, use me. Help me love you again. Help me love these people if that’s
what you want.”

McIntyre stumbled across Naomi and quickly hid behind the
branches of a small pine. Spellbound, he watched her sit and stare up at the
stars, agony on her face. He knew he should go, but he couldn’t pull himself
away. Then she spoke. She talked and wept as if God was standing right beside
her…and what she said, she was so candid, speaking her heart, holding nothing
back from God. It made the Almighty seem almost...real.

He had taken his midnight walk thinking the sound of the
water would clear his head and show him how to handle the women and the town.
This
was far more than he had gambled on. He actually felt a pang of guilt, knowing
she would be horrified to realize he was listening. Yet, he couldn’t move,
couldn’t
stop
listening. He watched transfixed as she wrestled with God,
spoke to him boldly. She was intimate with him and painfully vulnerable.

And then, most amazingly of all, she begged him to break
her…so that she could have compassion on this town of sinners and reprobates.
Dumbfounded by her prayer, he stepped back, staggered over the rocky ground and
turned away. He was confused and a little alarmed by the emotions warring
within him. What had he just seen? Why was his heart racing?

He rested against a boulder to find his mental footing on that
foundation of serene rebellion and self-gratification. He re-visited the
atrocities he had witnessed, the barbaric violence, the blood, the destruction.
His life was fine, built as it was around himself and his desires. God was a
nuisance, a crutch, a disinterested father.

Yet, his heart wouldn’t harden. Perplexed, he discovered that
he felt different somehow, but couldn’t put words to it. It was deeper than
words were allowed to go. Off-balance, and irate at being so, he shook the
confusion off his shoulders and decided to do what any man would do with
unwanted emotions: drown them with rye whiskey and a willing woman.

Chapter
13

If August had a sound, Naomi would always associate the one
of ‘77 with the continual whack of hammers or the melodic rhythm of hand saws.
Daily, the carpenters showed up at the hotel with the sun and worked till it
had set behind the mountains. Constant, but mercifully brief, meetings with Mr.
McIntyre and Ian kept the inn’s progress on track.

Naomi noted and appreciated that Mr. McIntyre seemed
pre-occupied in her presence and a trifle less arrogant. She assumed he was
busy with other projects, and didn’t mind one bit that their conversations had
become less of a battle. She had caught him staring at her a time or two, but
in an odd way, as if she had two heads. As long as it made him keep his
distance, she didn’t need to know the why of it.

In rapid fire succession, telegrams went out daily, items
were ordered, and the girls spent almost as much time studying the Montgomery
Ward catalog as they did the Bible. Eager to stay busy, they also pitched in on
the construction, hauling out debris, painting, fetching nails, whatever the
crew and Ian needed. But Naomi and Rebecca saw to it that Hannah handled the
lighter duties.

When they realized with surprise that the month of August had
all but disappeared, more than just the hotel was dramatically transforming.
Even loose fitting dresses were unable to hide something happening at Hannah’s
midsection. Naomi, worried about more trouble for her little sister, asked
Hannah to cut down significantly on her trips outside the inn. The questioning
looks were turning into bold, knowing stares and gossip had begun following
them down the boardwalk – gossip that cast doubt on the sisters’ “decent”
reputations. Even the men working on the hotel discussed her in hushed whispers
and with sideways glances. In light of things, Hannah had acquiesced.

~~~

Taking a breath, Daisy hugged her two large packages tighter
and managed an awkward knock on the hotel’s backdoor. She heard Hannah
yell,”I’ll see who it is,” followed by the muffled patter of steps. Hannah
flung open the door and Daisy watched the girl’s face transform from mild
curiosity to sincere joy. “Daisy!” Rebecca and Naomi, sweeping up sawdust out
front, straightened and froze their brooms. They didn’t look as happy as Hannah
to see her, but they didn’t look offended, either. Daisy was satisfied with
that.

“Oh, here let me help.” Hannah took one of the cumbersome
packages from Daisy. “Please, come in.” She turned away, acting as if she fully
expected Daisy to follow. Given no choice, she entered and trailed Hannah into
the kitchen, feeling wary, like a rabbit expecting to hear baying dogs any
second. The renovation in here was nearly complete and a huge rough-hewn, farm style
table graced the middle of the kitchen, complete with benches. Hannah set her
package down and turned to take the other from Daisy. “Thank you for bringing
this. Is it from Mr. McIntyre?”

Daisy shook her head, setting the package on the table. “Oh,
no. I−I had some clothes I thought you might could use.” Hannah frowned,
confused. Daisy pointed at Hannah’s abdomen. “What are you, about seven months
or so now? I had a bunch of clothes left over...and there’s a few things in
there for the baby, too.”

Naomi and Rebecca peeked into the kitchen, eyes wide with
curiosity, but Daisy didn’t sense any offense in their expressions. “Look what
she brought me.” Hannah tapped on one package. “Clothes. Clothes for my
special
time and even some baby things.”

Her sisters sucked in a simultaneous breath. Leaning on the
door frame, Naomi shoved her hands into her apron. “Daisy, how kind of you. You
don’t know how badly Hannah needs those. Can we pay you for them?”

“Oh, no.” Daisy waved her hand, moving towards the sisters
and the exit they were blocking. “I just don’t need them anymore.” Sure she was
coming close to wearing out her welcome, Daisy turned a bit, as if to squeeze
by Naomi and Rebecca. Better to take off now than stay too long and risk saying
something about her profession. But Naomi and Rebecca gently crowded her,
acting as if they only wanted to get into the kitchen and see the clothes.

Rebecca placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Daisy, won’t
you stay and have some coffee with us while we see what you’ve brought our
sister?”

Hannah stepped over and grabbed Daisy’s hand. “Oh, please
stay. It’ll be like Christmas. I haven’t had any new clothes in, well, since
Christmas, I guess.”

Naomi motioned towards the benches. “We would really love for
you to stay...if you can?”

Daisy was profoundly impressed by what seemed a sincere
desire for her company. It had been so long since she had been amongst friends.
Not that they were, but she liked them immensely; felt drawn to them, in fact.
Hannah might be expecting out of wedlock but it was plain as the nose on
Daisy’s face that these weren’t the same kind of women as those that flowered
in Mr. McIntyre’s Garden. She had told the other girls that when they gossiped
about the sisters, but they didn’t care to listen to Daisy.

Curious, and desperately lonely for the innocence of simple
friendship, she gave them the smallest nod. The girls showered her with
laughter and smiles as Naomi put on a pot of coffee. While Hannah opened the
packages and they all oohed and aaahed over the new clothes, Daisy slowly let
out bits and pieces of her story. She was a Kansas girl who married her
childhood sweetheart. For a while they owned their own small, struggling cattle
ranch but he wasn’t much of a businessman. Word of gold nuggets jumping out of
the ground drew them to Colorado, from one lonely mining town to the next.
Defiance, they had decided, would be the make-it or break-it town.

When Hannah draped a blue gingham jumper over herself to
model, Daisy told them how she had come to work for Mr. McIntyre. “We’d only
been here a month when Dan found his first gold nugget. He was so proud and so
sure he was on the edge of a huge strike.” Daisy nervously fidgeted with her
fingers, a bad habit she’d had since childhood. “Word got out, though, and two
days later someone shot him dead on his way to the Assayer’s office.”

An awkward, but empathetic, silence filled the room.
Compassion in her eyes, Naomi patted Daisy’s hand. “I’m sorry for your loss. I
know what that’s like.” Daisy nodded, having heard the rumor of
her
husband’s death. “Claim jumpers took our claim, burned our tent. I guess the
stress of everything…” She shrugged, resigned to the way the story had turned
out. “I lost the baby. After that, nothing much mattered. Mr. McIntyre gave me
a roof over my head…” she looked down then, expecting the haughty glances that
were coming, the quick excuses they would invent to send her out.

Instead, Hannah sat down and took Daisy’s hand. “Daisy, would
you tell us your real name?”

Blinking, she whispered, “Mollie.”

Hannah shook Daisy’s limp hand. “We’re proud to know you,
Mollie.”

It was a watershed moment in Daisy’s life. She felt liked and
wanted and maybe even accepted here. She didn’t know how that could be, but she
wanted to come back, would come back, soon...if they would let her. Naomi
looked up at the clock hanging above the sparkling red and white cook stove.
“Mollie, would you like to eat dinner with us? It’s nothing special but we hear
it’s better than what the Kitchen is slinging out.”

Daisy laughed, a wonderful, clear, light-hearted laugh that
still held the ring of innocence. “Emilio says he’s gained five pounds eating
dinner with you all…” but the mirth quickly faded. “Lily and I are working the
floor this evening,” she paused almost imperceptibly here then added, “Mr.
McIntyre doesn’t like it if we’re even one minute late on Fridays or
Saturdays.” The pained looks on their faces told Daisy they understood. Daisy
rose and the sisters with her. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Hannah touched Daisy lightly on the elbow. “Can you come back
tomorrow?” Daisy couldn’t believe the hope she saw in the girl’s eyes. “For
dinner or a quick supper?

Daisy shifted nervously. “Well, I...”

“We’d love for you to join us.” Rebecca took a step closer as
if to emphasize her point.

“Well, maybe later...sometime.”

Hannah smiled and it looked like an easy, sincere smile to
Daisy. “Anytime. You’re welcome here anytime.” The compassion in the girl’s
voice warmed Daisy’s lonely heart.