The Healer's Touch (37 page)

The Spooklight had driven folks from their homes, and hardworking families like the Jennings abandoned their homesteads in terror of the mysterious ball of light that bounced over hills and fields, but in a strange way the light had brought them together. Had it not tormented him the night he'd ridden through the barn door, she would have never met him, never found love.

She was almost there. She picked up her skirts and raced to the glade, the beautiful glade they'd visited one day where they'd dreamed of a brighter tomorrow.

When she burst into the clearing she saw Norman munching on a patch of grass, reins dangling. The shady clearing beckoned invitingly. Her gaze searched the lush hills and she spotted him kneeling by the shallow stream.

As she approached he said softly without turning, “What took you so long?”

“I wasn't sure where to find you.”

“But you knew I would be waiting for you.”

Her breath caught. “Yes, I knew.” She had awaited him forever.

Lowering herself to the ground beside him she reached over and traced the firm line of his jaw. She bent and they shared a long, unhurried kiss filled with hope and promise. “I've been looking everywhere for you,” she whispered against his lips when the embrace ended. “What if I hadn't remembered the glade?”

“Then I would have come for you.” He grinned, pulling her down beside him and tucking her in his arms. The fit was perfect. Lying back, they studied the sky—a tiny piece of vivid blue showing through the canopy of oaks and towering walnut trees. Squirrels chattered. Thrushes darted in and out of branches dressed in their spring finery.

“There are a few things we need to clarify,” she said.

“I can answer any question you ask me. What's bothering you?”

“Your saddle, for one. It has the initials JJ engraved on the leather. Your initials are IC.”

“John Jarrette. Met the outlaw on the road here a while back, drawing his last breaths. He'd been shot trying to rob a feed store. He said if I'd bury him I could have the saddle for payment. I didn't need compensation, but it didn't make sense to leave a good saddle by the roadside. Norman seemed to like the fit so I kept it.”

“That sounds reasonable. Next, why would you lie to Lark and Boots about those bats? Even I believed you, and it's raised doubts in my mind if you might do the same to me. Try to mislead me about something.”

“I don't think I said bats were there, did I?”

“Maybe not, but you led those young girls to believe they were.”

“The mind can play strange tricks on a person. I'd rather your sister and Boots fear a cave full of bats than the imminent dangers they would have faced if their plan had succeeded.”

He made perfect sense, and she'd told her fair share of half-truths during this whole escapade.

“Any more questions?”

“No, but I might think of others later.” She snuggled closer. “I imagine you caught your man?” In all the commotion they hadn't spoken about the Younger capture. “That was really quite a plan on your part.”

“The Lord looked after me that morning. The idea didn't backfire on me—but I was awfully grateful for your help, and for all those guinea fowl.” He rolled slightly to gaze into her eyes. “Speaking of men, I heard you'd caught yours.”

“Well, not yet, but I'm awfully close.”

“What would it take to close the deal?” Tracing a finger along the ridge of her nose he said, “I'll pay any price you ask.”

“Norman. I want Norman.”

“Anything but my horse.”

Grinning, she teased. “If I recall correctly, you don't like the animal.”

“Who said I don't like Norman? I love that stubborn, ornery, oat-sucking fleabag.”

Eventually, she sobered. “You know who you're getting?”

His eyes fixed on her. “A woman so beautiful, so good-hearted it takes my breath away. Someone I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“The daughter of nobody from nowhere. A woman who didn't want me or Lark.”

“Your real mother is beside the point, Lyric. She gave up her daughters, but what about you? You want your freedom. Are you
willing to give up your dreams for a broken-down old marshal who wants to go home and make furniture with his grandpa?”

Her hold on him tightened. “I can't think of a better new life than the one you just described.”

“You don't fear being tied down with a family? Grandpa and Grandma are getting old, and there'll be some care involved.”

“I would be honored to care for them, Ian. Your family
is
my new life.” Her fingertips lightly threaded the thick mass of dark auburn hair. The depths of his love showed through the eyes that openly pledged his forever love. “I want to be all those things to you. I'll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“That would be Kansas City, to my grandparents' place. They've got a small spread outside of town. Grandpa is a fine woodsmith; I'd like to learn the craft. It's a good place, Lyric. A fine place to raise children, to make a home.”

“I will love it—and your grandparents.”

“And they'll love you. What about Lark? I know she doesn't want to leave the holler.”

She shook her head. “She won't be coming with us. She asked permission to stay with Boots and her grandfather…and I said yes.” Her gaze lovingly traced his features. “It's only a matter of time before she's old enough to make her decisions, and Boots's grandpa will provide a good home for her. The two girls—well, they're closer than sisters.”

Smiling, he gently kissed the tip of her nose. “You're a wise woman and it won't be long before you'll be taking care of our babies. And the house?”

“For now I'll close it. Perhaps in time Lark will marry and reopen it, but I want to be free of all memories of the holler.”

“She fully believes Murphy is her man, doesn't she?”

“I'm going to pray night and day that soon she'll outgrow her childish reasoning and come join us.”

“Grandpa and Grandma would welcome her with open arms. They love kids.”

She gently kissed him. “I want a new life—with you, Ian. If we stayed in the holler you would be subject to the same prejudices and superstitions that make my life so miserable.”

“This part of your life is over; we'll be in Kansas City and you know Lark's going to hang around here and drive that young man out of his mind no matter what you say.”

“I figure that's Murphy's problem.”

“I'd say he's got a big headache.”

“By the time Lark's old enough to marry that poor boy will have long ago found a mate.” She paused. “Ian, can we stop in Joplin on the way to Kansas City and see Katherine?”

“If that's what you want.”

“It's such a shame that Katherine allowed the light to run them off their land. They built such a lovely home.”

They lay there for a moment, staring up at the faultless sky. A light breeze ruffled Lyric's hair and the scent of hay tickled her nose. Her life had experienced little serenity or such perfect peace, and she never wanted the moment to end. This would surely be the closest thing to heaven until she reached there.

“Honey?”

“Yes?”

“What do you really think that light is?”

“Well—I can't say what it is, but a very long time ago I decided there are just some things in life that aren't explainable. That doesn't make them bad or necessarily threatening—merely unaccountable. And look how God used that light to bring us together. What if you had ridden past here that night—never found me?”

He hugged her tightly to him. “Suppose God knows His business?”

“I believe He does. Better than we do, and maybe folks aren't
supposed to have an explanation for everything God put on this earth. Maybe that's what He meant when He said that He works in mysterious ways.”

Shielding his broken rib, Ian slowly eased to his elbow and fumbled in his pocket. She frowned. “Have you hurt yourself again?”

“Yeah, the sooner I give up this job the better. I'm running out of things to break. It's a good thing I've got a healer in my life.” He fished out the ring and then turned to her. “Miss Bolton”—his gaze softened to earnest trust—“will you do the honor of spending the rest of your life with me?”

Hot tears rushed to her eyes. “I will, Mr. Cawley.”

His mouth took hers and he deepened his hold possessively.

In the silence of the glade he whispered for her ears only, “You can call me Joseph.”

Reader's Guide

 

1. Lyric and Lark suffer from the town's misperceptions of Edwina's mental illness. Have you ever made harsh or incorrect judgments about people?

2. When Lyric first finds Ian, she believes him to be an outlaw. What events or circumstances help her change her mind about him?

3. God uses unusual and unexpected circumstances to bring Lyric and Ian together. What were some of these circumstances?

4. Describe a time in your life when you saw God move in “mysterious ways.”

5. The townspeople fear all the Boltons because of Edwina's illness. Is it fair to lump family members together this way? Do you feel that you are defined by your family?

6. Before Ian regains his memory, he is willing to meet the hangman's noose because of sins he may have committed in the past. What does this say about Ian?

7. At the end of the story, Lyric chooses to leave Bolton Holler and all the painful memories behind. Lark decides to stay and try to make a new life for herself. In the circumstances, which life would you have chosen? Why?

Don't miss the thrilling new Western adventure from beloved authors Lori Copeland and Virginia Smith—

Rainy Day Dreams

Chapter One

Seattle, Washington Territory

Monday, January 7, 1856

A
n unkempt sailor, scraggly and reeking of fish, pitched the steamer trunk from the ship's gangway to the pier as though tossing a salmon onto the deck. Instead of flopping wetly on the wood, Kathryn's trunk landed on the platform with a sickening thud that did not bode well for the contents.

“Here!” She charged down the sloping plank, skirts swishing around her cloth-topped boots, and fixed the man with an outraged glare. “What do you mean, heaving my things about like that? There are breakables inside.”

Footsteps pounded the wooden dock from behind and the captain drew up beside her. “Is there a problem, ma'am?”

She whirled to face him. “The problem is my mother's fine porcelain basin and pitcher, which are packed inside my trunk and probably in shards due to careless handling.”

The sailor snatched the cap off his head and ducked to reveal a pink, balding scalp. “Sorry, ma'am. That's a heavy trunk, that is. It
slipped plumb out of my hands.” His gaze slid upward toward his skipper, as though to test the reception of his explanation.