Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church
.
Was it possible for any man to love like that? Perhaps. Peter
might love Rose that way. Were there others? Could Hugh Brennan be such a man?
She rolled onto her side and drew her knees toward her chest, trying to drive Hugh’s image from her mind, trying not to remember him as they’d sat near the campfire on the cattle drive. Trying not to remember the easy way he sat a horse. Trying not to remember him at the table with his head bowed in prayer or as they ate their meals. Trying not to remember him wielding an ax, making certain she would have ample firewood for the winter. Trying not to remember him holding one of the kittens. Trying not to remember his smiles or his laughter or his tenderness or his concern.
The minutes of the night marched toward dawn while she lay there, sleepless, unsettled, and confused.
Julia was dressed before the sun was full up on Saturday morning. She hurried through her chores, and as soon as possible, she saddled Teddy and rode to her spot by the river, her Bible and journal in the saddlebag.
The water continued to run high in early June, churning, foaming, and tumbling its way south. The sounds of the rushing river — steady and powerful — were soothing to her troubled spirit. While Bandit sniffed among the brush along the bank, Julia settled onto the rocky outcropping. She picked up her Bible, thinking she would read for a while, but instead she lay on her back and closed her eyes. Unlike the previous night when her thoughts had churned and spun and refused to let her be, her mind now seemed empty. She couldn’t even form a prayer, although the need to pray was real enough.
But perhaps empty was what she should be. Empty of herself.
Empty of her concerns. Empty of anything and everything she put before God.
What do I put before You, Lord?
There was silence in her spirit, and for a moment, she tried to believe the silence meant she didn’t make anything an idol, that she put nothing before or above her Maker. But it wasn’t true. She sat up and looked around, at the land and trees, at the river and sky. She looked at Sage-hen and knew she sometimes put it first. She’d found her security in this place after the death of her husband, and that’s why she was so determined not to lose it. Because if she lost her home, however would she survive?
Isn’t God able to provide a way?
An image of her mother came to her, her mother in a fancy nightgown and robe, her face painted, her hair piled high atop her head and decorated with an ostrich feather. Her mother, a woman who’d lived a desperate life, far from God, but who’d also tried to make sure the same thing didn’t happen to her daughter. She’d sent Julia to school and to church. She’d kept her away from the worst elements in the mining town.
And then she gave me in marriage to Angus Grace
.
That’s what came of not listening to the Spirit, of trusting in human wisdom rather than trusting in God. For on the surface, Angus had seemed a good choice for a husband, even to Julia. He’d owned his own ranch. He’d been youthful and handsome. He’d seemed kind and respectable. He’d promised to take care of her.
But his promise had been a lie. He’d been physically cruel and emotionally cold all the years of their marriage. He’d broken her heart and spirit in a hundred different ways, killing her hopes and dreams, nearly destroying her faith.
Fear not
, a voice whispered into her heart.
“Fear not,” she repeated aloud.
Again she looked at her surroundings, but she seemed to see it with different eyes now. It was land. Beautiful land. Familiar land. But land couldn’t make her secure. Nor could solitude. Only God could give her security on this earth. Job said the Lord gave and the Lord took away. She would determine to trust Him to care for her as He cared for the lilies of the field and the birds of the air.
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind
.
“Yes, Lord. I’ll love You with all my heart and soul and mind. I’ll trust You and not be afraid.”
She reached for her journal and pencil and began to write. Where at first she’d felt empty, now she was full to overflowing. There were so many things to say to God on these blank, white pages, and she had to write swiftly before the thoughts took wing.
It was close to noon, the sun baking the hard-packed dirt of the barnyard, when Hugh set the horse’s hoof on the ground and straightened. That was the moment a rider came into view. Charlie Prescott. Hugh felt the dislike well up inside him, but years of practice kept it from showing on his face. Moving away from the horse, he wiped his hands on his trousers. Charlie barely gave him a glance as he rode up close to the porch and dismounted.
“Mrs. Grace isn’t here,” Hugh said in a moderated voice.
Charlie turned, the reins in hand. “Where is she?”
He didn’t answer.
“You seem to have made yourself at home, Brennan, but I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. It’s past time for you to move on.”
Hugh crossed the barnyard until there was little more than a few feet between them. Although it was difficult, he resisted the urge to clench his fists and knock that self-satisfied smirk off Charlie’s face.
“It isn’t all that difficult to discover the truth about someone if you have a little information to start with. Like a name and where they’re from.” Charlie’s smile held no warmth. “For instance, you. Does Julia know what sort of man she’s allowed to work on this sorry little ranch? Because I know who you are and what you’ve done.”
Hugh remained silent, despite the tightening in his gut.
Charlie laughed softly. “It doesn’t matter if you answer or not. Because if you don’t leave, I will make sure she learns every sordid detail. The sheriff already knows. He’ll be watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake.”
Hugh clenched his fists at his sides.
“Don’t get in my way, Brennan, or I’ll make you pay for your interference.”
“I’m staying as long as Julia wants me to.”
“Do you think she’ll be able to hang on here? Not a chance, I promise you.” Anger reddened Charlie’s face. “My fool brother died without a will or this land would be mine already. He never would have left it to his wife if he’d known he was dying. She knows that’s true. I asked her to sell it to me. Offered her a good price too. Now it’s too late. She won’t be able to pay her taxes. I’ll have this place and she’ll have nothing.”
“She’s able to pay them.”
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“I think it’s time you got off her land.” Hugh spoke in a soft voice, but Charlie couldn’t mistake the threat behind his words.
“You have no —”
“Get on your horse and ride out of here.” He took another step toward Charlie. “Now. And don’t come around bothering her again.”
Charlie’s confidence seemed to falter. He went to his horse’s side and stepped into the saddle. As he gathered the reins, he said, “You’d better leave, Brennan, before you find yourself in more trouble than you can handle. Before you find yourself back in jail.” Then he spun his horse around and cantered away.
Hugh didn’t draw a breath until Charlie Prescott was out of sight, his parting words echoing in Hugh’s mind:
“Before you find yourself back in jail.”
Somehow, Charlie — and the sheriff — had discovered the truth about him.
“Before you find yourself back in jail.”
His past would follow him wherever he went. It didn’t matter if he kept his nose clean. At the first hint of trouble, he would be thought guilty.
Guilty.
Funny, in a way. He’d gotten away scot-free for things he’d actually done as a boy, then he’d spent a decade in prison for something he hadn’t done.
Guilty.
As if it had happened yesterday, Hugh heard the verdict and the slap of the judge’s gavel. He saw the faces of the men on the jury, smelled the musty air of the courtroom, and noted the continued absence of the man who could have cleared his name: his father. Sweeney Brennan had abandoned his son to what passed for justice in Chicago. It had taken a long time to forgive his father for that betrayal. Longer still to understand that if Sweeney had come forward there would have been two Brennans in jail rather than just Hugh.
He took a deep breath as he strode toward the barn.
“Before you find yourself back in jail.”
Guilty.
“Before you find yourself back in jail.”
Guilty.
It was wrong of him to want to love Julia. It was wrong of him to want to stay with her. She didn’t know the truth about him. If he left now, Charlie would have no reason to tell her. Besides, Hugh had an obligation to his sisters. It was the need to find them that had brought him west in the first place. He had no right to want to remain in Wyoming, to want to put down roots, to want to make a life for himself, to want a wife and family.
A wife and family
. The words drifted through his heart, like a leaf floating to the ground on a soft autumn’s day. Marriage to Julia. Children with Julia. Impossible wishes. Impractical hopes. Unfeasible dreams.
Besides, hadn’t Paul written that a man who was unmarried was better off to stay that way? He was certain he’d read that in one of the apostle’s letters. Yet he’d also read that a man was to love his wife the way Christ loved the church, enough to die for her. Hugh loved Julia that way. Or at least he wanted to love her that way.
“I have nothing to offer her. What kind of man would marry a woman when he owns nothing more than a horse and a Bible?”
Not the kind of man he hoped to become. Not the kind of man Julia deserved.
Why wait until Monday? He had his wages. He had the supplies he would need to make it to Boise City.
It was time he was on his way.
That morning by the river, Julia filled many pages in her journal with thoughts, prayers, and Bible verses. The words were honest, even brutal. Perhaps more honest than anything she’d written between its covers before, revealing emotions she’d rarely — if ever — allowed herself to acknowledge feeling. And when she was done, when she couldn’t write another word, she gathered her belongings, swung into the saddle, and rode Teddy toward the Collins farm, needing the sound counsel of her closest friend.
As if Rose had awaited her arrival, she was standing on the front porch when Julia rode into the barnyard. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” she called to her. “Were you late getting home?”
“Not very.” Julia slipped from the saddle and looped Teddy’s reins around a post before stepping onto the porch.
“Was it a successful trip?”
“Yes. I’ll have enough money to see me through to next spring.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“Don’t I?” She shook her head. “No, I suppose I don’t. That’s why I’m here, I guess. To talk to you.”
“Come inside. I can have tea ready in no time at all.”
Julia knew that, for Rose, tea equaled comfort. She nodded. She needed comfort along with her friend’s wisdom.
The two women moved inside.
“Where is everyone?” Julia asked into the silence.
“Hope, India, and the baby are sleeping. Peter and the rest of the girls went to call on the Thompsons. Mrs. Thompson’s been ailing, so I sent her some cinnamon rolls. She’s always liked my rolls.”
Julia sat at the table. “Who doesn’t?”
“Would you like one?” Standing at the stove, Rose glanced over her shoulder. “I kept some for the family.”
“Not right now.”
Rose put the kettle on to boil, then joined Julia at the table. “All right. You’d best tell me what has you so troubled.”
“Rose, I think —” She drew in a deep breath. “I think I’m falling in love.”
“With Mr. Brennan?” her friend asked softly.
Julia nodded.
A smile brightened Rose’s face. “But that’s a reason for gladness.”
“He’s leaving. Monday.”
“Have you told him how you feel?”
She shook her head.
“Well, for pity sake. Do so. He cares for you a great deal, Julia. It’s plain as the nose on your face.”
Victoria Trent had told her almost the exact same thing. Were Hugh’s feelings evident to everyone but her? Or perhaps they
were
evident to her. She pictured him looking at her. Many different times. Many different ways. Something softened inside her heart.
“Do you truly think he would stay if he knew?”
Rose leaned closer. “You’ll never know unless you tell him. If
you told him and he left anyway, would you feel any worse than if you keep silent?”
“I guess not.”
The kettle began to whistle, and Rose went to see to their tea.
Julia had never told a man she loved him. If she said those words to Hugh and he left her anyway, she feared it might shatter her heart into a thousand pieces. And if he didn’t leave, if he wanted to marry her, was she ready to let him become part of every aspect of her life? Was she willing to let go of the freedom she’d gained when Angus died?
“Julia.”
She looked at her friend who was facing her again, tea cups in hand.
“Love is a risk. But it’s a risk worth taking.”
Hugh loped his gelding along the road north of Pine Creek, trying to ignore the desire in his heart that told him to turn around and go back. There were a hundred reasons why it was better that he leave. Better for Julia. Better for him.
He’d left a note for her, expressing his gratitude, but the farther he got from the ranch the more it felt like cowardice to not talk to her face-to-face, to leave without telling her the whole truth and seeing if there might be a chance for him, for them.
What was he supposed to do? How could he possibly know God’s will in this regard?
Julia hadn’t brought Teddy to a stop before she noticed two things: Hugh’s horse wasn’t in the paddock or corral and the front door
of the house was wide open. A split second later, Bandit faced the porch and growled, his back hunched, his head lowered.
“Quiet, boy.” She slipped the rifle from its sheath before easing down from the saddle.