Distant Heart (19 page)

Sam pressed his finger to her lips. “And from now on, I'll never let you go in the first place. If you'll answer the question. Will you marry me?”

Toni closed her eyes, reveling in how safe she felt in Sam's strong and capable arms. “Kiss me, and you'll have my answer.”

The years of heartache melted away in the promise of this man's love. She knew she had nothing to fear. Nothing from the past could touch her now. And in Sam's eyes she felt truly beautiful. In his arms she knew that God had truly swept away her destroyed past and ahead was a life of beauty and happiness with the man God had created for her.

Toni's eyes filled with tears as Sam gently pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back in a way that she prayed left no doubt in his mind that she was going to be his bride.

Dear Readers,

The theme of Beauty for Ashes never fails to amaze and draw me. Like so many of you, I have areas in my past that still bring me pain. But God is unwavering in faithfulness, constantly reminding me of his grace, mercy, and unfailing love for me. Like Toni, I've many times felt scarred, ugly, unworthy of love, and many times I've pulled away from the very arms that tried to reach out to me, both human and heavenly. I'm so glad that God sees us for who we truly are. Deep down in a place that only He knows about. And he never, ever gives up. Brokenness draws his compassion and He'll never ignore an honest cry.

In
Distant Heart
I addressed not only my heroine's need to surrender her past to God and accept his grace once and for all, but also other people's perception of her based on her past. Other Christians who found it so difficult to give her the benefit of the doubt. Just as I see myself in Toni, sadly, I often see myself in those who judge her as well.

If there's one thing I pray, it's that we, as Christians would open our hearts and arms to the men and women who walk into the church wounded, battered and in desperate need of a kind word or gentle embrace. I think Jesus could do so much more on the earth, if we could stop defining the lost by the scars they display. Perhaps not be so afraid of loving those we fear—not fear physically, but maybe we're afraid to see a little of ourselves in the unlovely, the prostitute, the adulterer, the alcoholic. Because never has it been truer that only grace separates me from the stripper in a little dive who is trying to make a living for her children, or the prostitute who ran away from an abusive home and somehow has to survive on the streets because that's better than the alternative. The alco
holic or drug addict who never meant to become so dependent on the one thing that numbed the pain.

Only Jesus can save.

I pray as you read this that God reminded you His great love goes beyond the things you've done. Beyond what you do. His mercy and grace never change and his love never fails. May He exchange beauty for the hurt and ashes of your past. And shower you with hope for a bright tomorrow. Remember your best days are yet to come.

Until next time, may God bless you richly and make His face shine upon you.

Tracey Bateman

1. In the beginning, Toni feels her outward scars will make people see her differently, perhaps make them forget about her past. What does God say truly matters? Have there been instances when you felt your suffering somehow made you more acceptable to God? Less?
   
2. Toni doesn't feel like she's good enough for Sam because of his relationship with God. When have you felt that you didn't measure up spiritually to another Christian? How did you overcome the tendency to compare yourself to others?
   
3. Fannie's friendship with Toni is true and real, but she's constantly battling Blake because of his opinion of Toni. How might that have backfired? What would God expect of Fannie in this situation?
   
4. Ginger is surly and rude at times, and yet Toni continues to be her friend. Has God ever brought someone into your life like this? Were you willing to love against all reason? Would you?
   
5. Do you know someone who is suffering from scars of a sinful past? How do those scars manifest themselves? Are you willing to be God's hands to reach out in love?
   
6. Amanda Kane chooses to dull her pain with a drug. Have you or someone you've known ever done the same thing? How do we as a body of Christ help other believers who are dealing with addiction? What are some common ways people medicate themselves against pain?
   
7. Sam's assumption that he isn't right for Toni because he's half Indian brings the race issue into the book. How do you see this issue? We know that the Israelites were forbidden to marry anyone of a different race that might introduce false gods or religions in their midst, but what, if anything, does God, in the New Testament, have to say about intermarrying?
   
8. Tim and Brian were desperate to retrieve their loved ones, so much so that they were willing to trade Toni to accomplish their goals. They saw Toni as less valuable as a person because of her past. Have you ever considered others as less because of where they come from or because you can see their sin on the outside?
   
9. If a known ex-prostitute came to your church, how do you think you would respond? Disgust? Fear? Compassion? Mercy?
   
10. The book's theme deals with beauty for ashes. Are you struggling with a past that still causes you pain? Do you feel like you need God to heal those hurts? Can you ask for prayer?
    

Turn the page for an exciting preview of

DANGEROUS HEART

The final book in the Westward Hearts series

By Tracey Bateman

Coming Soon from Avon Inspire

A blast of gunfire startled Ginger Freeman from the first sound sleep she'd had in a week. She bolted upright in the tent she shared with Toni Rodden and fumbled around in the dark for her moccasins.

“What is it?” Toni asked from the other side of the tent. She made a shadowy figure as she sat up and reached for her own shoes.

“I don't know. I'm going to check on it.” She slipped on her moccasins and stood to her feet. “You best stay put.”

Another blast of gunfire pierced the air and the sound of yelling echoed through the camp. “Outlaws! Take cover!”

Toni gasped.

“Outlaws?” Ginger frowned. “What kind of dumb outlaws would attack a wagon train the size of this one?”

“Maybe there's a lot of them.” Toni's voice trembled, but Ginger didn't have time to coddle her friend. She figured her help was needed out there. After all, she could shoot just as straight and just as fast as any man—just about.

“I ain't ever heard of any outlaws traveling in a band that big.”

And if there was one thing Ginger knew a little something about, it was outlaws. Of course, she couldn't very well mention that fact to Toni or anyone else, but this attack just didn't make any kind of sense. There were either an awful lot of men who thought there was an awful lot of treasure to be had among this battered, weary band of travelers, or the men out there firing into the camp were missing a few brains. That's what Ginger was betting on.

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” she said to Toni. “Hunker down and stay out of sight.”

Ginger pulled back the tent flap and slipped outside, taking care to keep her head down and her senses alert. She gripped her Colt revolver firmly in her right hand, ready to use it if necessary, and she figured it would be necessary real soon.

She tried to take stock of the situation. Outside the circle of wagons, the trees were thick enough to hide a few outlaws bent on mischief. But she still couldn't imagine anyone dumb enough to go up against a wagon train the size of this one. Dawn was beginning to break over the mountains to the east, but it was still too dark to make out more than shadows beyond the camp's fires.

Strong fingers gripped her buckskin-clad arm and spun her around. Grant Kelley stood there, a deep frown pushing his eyebrows together. “Ginger, get back inside that tent before you get your head shot off!”

“My gun's as good as yours, Grant Kelley, so mind your own business.”

“You're too bullheaded for your own good.” Grant yanked her to the ground with him as a bullet whizzed past her ear. Ducking behind a wagon wheel, he took aim in the direction that bullet had come from and fired off two shots, then turned back to her. “Remember last time you joined a man's fight, you got an arrow through your leg.”

Humiliation burned her cheeks at the low-down reminder that he had been the one to pull that arrow out and patch her up while she laid on the ground in a dead faint. She took aim toward the trees, firing off a couple of rounds herself. “I'll be sure not to get in the way of a bullet.”

“See that you don't.” He fired again. And again.

Not to be outdone, Ginger raised her Colt toward the woods and squeezed the trigger. “Ow!” she heard a split second later. “Dadburn it, I just got myself shot! Fall back.”

Ginger gave a smug grin. “See how he likes that,” she said. Then on a whim she called out, “Keep your head down if you don't want to get it shot off.” Then it occurred to her Grant had said the same thing to her less than ten minutes earlier. Her face warmed and she hoped he didn't remember that he'd said it first.

Grant snorted. “That was luck.”

Outraged at the very suggestion, Ginger turned a fierce glare on the wagon scout. “What are you talking about? I aimed plain as the nose on your face, Grant Kelley.”

He fired off a round. “No one could see into those woods.
There's no shame in getting a luck shot. I'd venture to say that's the first bullet to make contact with one of those varmints.”

“I'd say so too,” Ginger said stubbornly. “Only it wasn't a lucky shot. I took aim.”

Within minutes it seemed all the outlaws figured out they were fighting a losing battle. The gunfire stopped and, by the rustling in the trees, it was apparent they had ridden away. Ginger doubted they'd be back. Slowly, cautiously, the members of the wagon train stood and ventured out.

“Doc!” someone called. Ginger looked up at Grant. “They're callin for you.”

His eyes clouded over. “I wish they wouldn't call me that.”

“How come? That's what you are.”

“Was.”

He looked past her, and Ginger turned to find thirteen-year-old Katie Caldwell running toward them. “Doc! Miss Sadie says come quick. Yellow Bird's time has come and she's having a rough go of it.”

“I'll be right there!” Grant turned to Ginger and placed his big hands on her shoulders. “Go to the supply wagon and bring the black doctor bag to Miss Sadie's tent. It's on the right when you go in. Hurry up. You know if Miss Sadie called for me, something must be wrong.”

Ginger didn't argue. Nor did she speak. Instead, she nodded and took off at a run to do as she'd been instructed.

Grant entered Miss Sadie's tent without waiting to be invited. Yellow Bird, the young Indian woman who had joined
the wagon train only recently, writhed in pain, but didn't utter a sound.

“What seems to be the trouble?” he asked the middle-aged widow, whose face was drawn with worry. Miss Sadie had helped with the birthing of every baby born in the wagon train since they headed out from Independence almost four months earlier.

“I think the baby is stuck.”

“How long has she been having pains?”

“Since yesterday afternoon.”

Grant examined her and found Miss Sadie's assessment of the situation to be correct. He nodded to Miss Sadie. “You're right,” he said grimly. “I need to pray.”

He took Yellow Bird's hand. She stared up at him, eyes filled with pain and fear. “My baby?”

“We need to get him out soon or he'll die.” Grant reached forward and smoothed a strand of silky black hair from her forehead. “Do you know Jesus?”

Yellow Bird nodded. “I know Him.”

“Okay, then we're going to pray that God will help me deliver your baby safely.”

He kept her hand firmly inside of his and they closed their eyes just as Ginger barreled in, her eyes wild, chest heaving from exertion. “Here's the bag. How is she?” She looked down at Yellow Bird. “You okay?”

The Indian woman nodded. “We will pray now.”

Grant looked up at Ginger. Her face was void of all color and it was easy to see the worry in her eyes.

“Well, I suppose I'll just wait outside 'til you're done.”

“Sit down, Ginger,” Grant said, irritation edging his voice. “Close your eyes and be quiet while we pray.”

Yellow Bird nodded, her teary eyes filled with pleading as she looked up at Ginger. “You pray too. For my ba-by.”

Ginger's face gentled more than Grant had ever seen before. To her credit she knelt beside Yellow Bird. Then she opened her mouth. “Okay, but God ain't never answered any of my prayers before,” she muttered. “I don't see why He'd start now.”

Grant nudged her. She nodded a little as though she understood his meaning. “I bet this is my lucky day, though,” she hastily (and poorly in Grant's opinion) tried to amend.

“Let's hope,” Grant said. They bowed their heads and he began to pray. “Lord, give me wisdom and mercy to bring this baby safely into your beautiful world. Show me how to dislodge the baby's head and bring it forth. Amen.”

Ginger spoke with matter-of-fact confidence. “When our old cow was having a rough go of it one time, my daddy reached in and turned the little calf and yanked on it a little. It came out neat as you please.”

Grant rubbed Yellow Bird's belly, hoping the baby would dislodge itself from wherever it seemed to be hung up. “Well, a calf isn't a baby.”

“Well, I know that,” Ginger said, scowling. “Don't you think I know the difference?”

Yellow Bird moaned. Grant knew she had to be in excruciating pain; still she barely made a sound.

He caught Miss Sadie's gaze. Dark circles surrounded her
eyes and the lines on her face seemed more pronounced than he'd ever noticed. “You might give Ginger's suggestion a try, Grant,” she said. “I've seen it work on more babies than I can count.”

Still, Grant hesitated. How could he bear it if the child died in his hands, along with Yellow Bird. “It's risky.”

“But not impossible,” she countered.

He nodded, then turned to the young mother. “Yellow Bird,” he said softly, caressing her sweat-soaked brow. “Your baby is not able to come any further because he isn't in the right position. I am going to try to turn him and pull him out. It will be painful, and there are no guarantees. But we have to try. Do you understand?”

She moaned and nodded.

Grant sprang into action. The young woman was growing weaker by the minute and if he didn't do something fast he would likely lose them both. “Ginger, Miss Sadie, get on either side of Yellow Bird and don't let her thrash about too much.”

“Me?” Ginger's voice sounded faint. “Uh, I'll just go get Toni or Fannie. And I'll be right back.”

“There's no time!” Grant grabbed the white-faced girl by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Ginger! You have to be strong. I know you don't like illness or blood. But you can
not
faint, is that clear?”

“Wh-who said I was going to faint?”

Good—some of her spunk was showing.

Grant tried not to be affected by the sound of Yellow
Bird's groans as he felt for the baby's head and slowly began to turn it to the right position. Still, with the next pain, the baby didn't descend any further.

Ginger prayed the same two words over an over like a mantra. “Please God, please God, please God, please God.” Finally, Grant's nerves couldn't take it any longer.

“Ginger! Shut up.”

“Well, you're the one that told me to pray!”

“Can't you pray something else?”

Yellow Bird let out a scream that pierced the interior of the tent.

Ginger resumed her prayer. “Please God, please God, please God, please God.”

As Grant felt the baby begin to dislodge, he found himself praying Ginger's prayer. “Please God, please God, please God.”

Moments later, a healthy boy slid into the world with lusty cries. “Would you look at that?” Ginger said, excitement and wonder in her tone. Miss Sadie wrapped the baby and tried to give him to Yellow Bird. The young woman had fainted. “Ginger, take the baby,” Miss Sadie said. “I need to help Grant take care of Yellow Bird.”

“I might drop it,” Ginger said. “I never held a human baby before.”

“It's okay, honey,” Miss Sadie said. “There's nothing to it.”

Miss Sadie slipped the baby carefully into Ginger's arms. A soft gasp caused Grant to raise his head just for a second. Surprise lifted his brow. For all of her spit and fire, and annoying behavior, Ginger Freeman could be as soft as any woman when holding a baby.