The Shepherd's Voice (3 page)

“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands. Serve the Lord with gladness: come before His presence with singing.”

It didn’t matter to her that she could barely carry a tune in a bucket. She was glad to praise Him with her joyful noise.

“Know ye that the Lord He is God: it is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of His pasture.”

She closed her eyes, twirled with more abandon, sang louder.

“Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise: be thankful unto Him, and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting; and His truth endureth to all generations.”

She fell to the ground, dizzy from spinning. She hugged her arms over her chest and reveled in the sense of well-being.

“
Ach!
Have ye lost yer senses, lass?”

Akira opened her eyes to see Brodie Lachlan’s slow approach. He struggled with his crutches on the uneven ground, obviously hating every awkward step.

“No, I haven’t.” She sat up.

“Ye looked it.”

Brodie was pure Scot, from the top of his head, ablaze with carrot-red hair, to the tip of his boots. He’d come to work for Akira’s grandfather Fergus Macauley a few months after getting off the boat in 1901. He’d long since ceased to be an employee. Now he was family to Akira. In many ways, closer to her than her own mother.

“How’s your leg?” she asked as he drew closer.

“Fair enough.”

“Are you hungry? There’s chicken soup on the stove.”

“Nay, lass. I’ve had my supper.”

“Did you find someone to help move the sheep?”

Shaking his head, he sank onto a large, granite boulder near the pump. “None I’d have. Any man worth his salt who’s in need of work has left Ransom. Those who remain aren’t to be trusted.” He rubbed his thigh with one hand, adding with a sigh, “Besides, there’s none that know sheep. Farmers and loggers, the lot of them.”

“You can teach anybody what they need to know.” She glanced toward the house. “Perhaps I found someone. I gave aid to a stranger today. He was on his way to Ransom, looking for mill-work. He was so weak from hunger, he fainted.”

“From the look on yer face, I’d guess the stranger ye speak of is in the house. Am I right?”

She nodded.

“Ye’re too trustin, Akira.”

“I trust in the Lord. He told me to bring Gabe home.”

The Scotsman arched an eyebrow. “Gabe who?”

“He didn’t tell me his last name.”

Brodie rose from the rock, slipping the crutches beneath his arms. “I’ll have a look at this stranger of yours, if ye don’t mind.”

She smiled as she stood. There was no point arguing with him, and well she knew it. He would do what he pleased. If there was a more stubborn race of people than the Scots, Akira had yet to meet them. And she should know, being herself one of God’s most stubborn children.

When Gabe saw the tall, beefy, full-bearded man standing in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning on a pair of crutches, he assumed he was about to be tossed out on his ear.

“My name’s Brodie Lachlan, and who might ye be?” He entered the bedroom, moving slowly but steadily.

Gabe didn’t answer.

“Did ye not hear me, lad?” Despite his injured right leg, he looked plenty able to do Gabe harm.

“I heard.”

“And is it a secret?”

Gabe knew the sound of disdain. He’d lived with it for most of his life, first from his father, then from the prison guards, and finally from strangers who didn’t want to look at another hungry beggar.

Brodie arrived at the bed, demanding an answer by his sheer presence.

“My name’s Gabe.”

Brodie squinted his hazel eyes and pressed his lips together in an unyielding line. It was obvious he wasn’t satisfied with only a first name.

“Talmadge,” Gabe added reluctantly.

A soft gasp from the doorway alerted him to Akira’s presence.

“Gabe Talmadge?” Brodie said in a low voice. His eyes narrowed even more. “We’d heard ye were dead.”

Gabe closed his eyes. “I was.”

Maybe I still am.

TWO

“See that he’s out of here tomorrow, Akira. Ye’ll regret it if ye don’t.”

The door closed behind Brodie, his parting words lingering in the air.

Gabriel Talmadge.

Akira glanced toward the bedroom.

Hudson Talmadge’s son.

Of all the people in the world who could have collapsed on the road for her to find, why did it have to be him?

“I’m trying to understand what You’re doing, Lord,” she whispered, “but it’s far from clear at the moment.”

She crossed the cozy parlor and eased open the door. A sliver of lamplight spilled past her into the darkened bedroom.

Gabe Talmadge had been convicted of killing his brother fourteen years before. A person couldn’t live long in this county without knowing the Talmadge family history, including that tragic tidbit.

Maybe I’m a dangerous man.
She shivered as the memory of Gabe’s words replayed in her mind.
Was
he dangerous?

“I’m not asleep, Miss Macauley.”

She jumped, startled by his voice.

“You might as well bring in the lamp and say what you came to say.”

“I only meant to look in on you.” It wasn’t a lie, but it seemed one.

“But you’d just as soon I didn’t stay in your house, right?”

Akira sighed softly. “I don’t know, Mr. Talmadge.”

“Gabe.” He sat up. “If you’ll bring me my shirt and trousers, I’ll be on my way.”

She pushed the door all the way open, then turned and reached for the kerosene lamp on the nearby table. “I washed your clothes. They’re hanging on the line.”

“They’ll be dry enough by now.”

“Mr. Talmadge, you don’t —”

“I thank you for your kindness.”

She held up the lamp, casting a golden light over the bed and the man in it. “You needn’t leave tonight.”

“I think I should.” He looked toward the window. “And so does Mr. Lachlan.”

Akira heard the hopelessness in his voice. She could almost see the vast wasteland of his heart. A lump formed in her throat, and tears welled in her eyes.

She lowered the lamp. “I can’t force you to stay. You’re free to do as you please. But the bed is yours for the night, and in the morning, there’ll be a breakfast of eggs, ham, and biscuits with gravy. I imagine you’d also like to shave and bathe before seeing your father.”

He visibly flinched.

“Go back to sleep, Mr. Talmadge.” She turned toward the doorway. “You’ll be thinking clearer in the morning.”

When Gabe next opened his eyes, he discovered the bedroom was bright with lemon-colored sunshine. He couldn’t believe he’d slept
that hard or that long. He’d planned to be out of Akira’s house and on his way before sunrise.

He sat up, glancing toward the door as he did so. It was shut tight, but there was no closing out the smell of ham frying in a skillet. His stomach growled in anticipation.

He tossed off the sheet and blanket and sat up. That’s when he noticed not only his trousers and shirt—washed, pressed, and draped across the back of a chair—but also some clean underclothes. On the nearby stand were a wash basin, a porcelain pitcher filled with water, a washcloth, and a bar of soap.

Subtle, Miss Macauley wasn’t.

Gabe rose slowly from the bed, testing his legs to make certain of their support before taking his first step. Convinced he would stay upright, he stripped off the undershirt and drawers he’d worn for longer than he cared to think about and washed himself, starting with his hair and working downward by inches.

It was one of those things most folks gave no thought to, the ability to bathe whenever they wanted. It was something he hadn’t taken for granted for years.

As he dressed a short while later, he wondered where Akira had come by the men’s undergarments. They couldn’t belong to Brodie Lachlan, a man whose waistline was easily twice the size as Gabe’s. Then he decided it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Pride took a backseat to practicality in times such as these.

A soft rapping on the door preceded Akira’s voice. “Mr. Talmadge? Your breakfast is ready.”

Barefooted, he strode across the room and opened the door.

She smiled when she saw him. “You found everything.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He rubbed his jaw with the fingers of his right hand. “Except for a razor.”

“I figured you’d want hot water for that. Why don’t you eat first?” She motioned toward the table. “The biscuits and gravy are ready.”

As if on cue, his stomach growled again.

Akira laughed.

The sound—sparkling, pure, and feminine—was so unexpected, Gabe took a step back. He needed to distance himself from a sound so joyful, so good. It seemed to shed unwelcome light into the dark corners of his soul, corners better left hidden.

She sobered at once. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head and wished she would stop looking at him in that curious way of hers. She was too innocent, too trusting.

“Sit down and eat, Mr. Talmadge.” She turned and walked to the stove where she filled a plate with food.

He said nothing as he obeyed. Silent obedience, he’d learned from painful experience, was usually the best route to take.

Akira carried his plate to the table and set it before him, then settled onto the chair to his right. He knew she was looking at him, but he didn’t meet her gaze. Finally, she bowed her head and prayed softly over the food. As soon as she finished, Gabe picked up his fork and began eating, one mouthful right after another. That was something else he’d learned over the years. Eat fast before someone whisked the food away.

Akira didn’t whisk it away nor did she speak while he ate. He was thankful for that.

After he’d polished off the last bite of biscuit, he glanced up. The look in her greenish-blue eyes was gentle. It wasn’t pity; it was simple kindness. But he wasn’t used to kindness.

“There’s more if you’d like it, Mr. Talmadge.”

“I’d rather you called me Gabe.”

“All right. Would you like more to eat, Gabe?”

“No. Thanks, ma’am.”

She laughed again. “And I’d rather you
didn’t
call me ma’am.”

He gave her an abrupt nod of assent, refusing to return her smile, then stood. “I’d best be on my way.”

“I’ll hitch up the team and drive you into Ransom.”

He was tempted to refuse, but something told him she wouldn’t give an inch about this. “Fine. We’ll go as soon as I shave, if that’s all right with you.”