The Cowboy's Convenient Proposal. Linda Ford
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had been shattered in the past few months.
Red pulled Belle to her lap and held her tight. “We got away from Thorton and Old Mike. They’re both in jail and will never hurt us again.”
“They’ll stay in jail forever?”
“I hope so. But long enough they won’t bother us again.”
“Red, he prayed. He said we could trust God.”
She heard the wistful note in her sister’s voice and understood Belle referred to Ward.
How was she to deal with this? She had no trust left. Not for God and certainly not for any man. But how could she admit she felt God had abandoned them and rob Belle of any hope? On the other hand, she didn’t want her to trust anyone but themselves for their future. She closed her eyes and tried to marshal her thoughts together. It took too much effort, made her head ache. She’d deal with the matter later.
Belle looked intently into Red’s face. “You don’t like him, do you?”
The question startled Red. There was something about Ward that got under her skin like a red, itchy rash. His insistence on helping even though it was evident he didn’t care a whole lot about her. The way he took objection to her comments. Yes, they might have been a little barbed, but she couldn’t help it. It had become part of her armor. Yet, despite his contrary ways, he exuded strength beyond the power in his arms. It came from deep inside him. Born, perhaps, out of his own pain and experience. She had to respect that. Might even find it slightly appealing.
But she could not let herself like him. To like a man, she would have to trust him, and she could not, would not, ever again trust a man.
Belle waited patiently for her answer.
“Honey, we don’t know him well enough to have much of an opinion about him.”
Taking her cues from Red, Belle sighed. “Too bad he’s a man. Otherwise I might like him.”
Laughing at her little sister’s wisdom, Red hugged her tight. “Let’s check out the bed.” She pulled Belle down beside her and they flopped backward on the furs. “I think we’ll be very comfortable.” Sharing a narrow bed with her sister was not going to be difficult. Having her so close, she could feel her breathing would comfort her.
They returned to the other room and examined the items on the shelf. Containers of flour, cornmeal and sugar. “Guess we won’t starve to death.”
“Can I help you cook things?”
“Of course you can. We will have so much fun. Just the two of us.” She glanced at the darkened window. Would they see the mountains through that window? She touched the log where he had threatened to carve words. Her chest seemed wooden as a strange wistfulness filled her. She’d once known a secure home. So had Belle, but she wasn’t sure her sister could remember happy family times.
Red didn’t know what the future held nor where they would go from here, but perhaps in this little cabin she could give Belle some enjoyable times. Teach her to be happy and trusting again, though not too trusting. Look at the predicament they’d landed in because Red trusted people too much.
Belle stood in the center of the room and spun around. “I love it here.” She jerked to a stop so quickly she almost tumbled over. “No one will bother us, will they?”
A storm of emotions raced through Red. Anger that Belle should know such uncertainty, hatred toward the man who’d stolen the innocence of them both, despair at how little she could offer her sister. Then determination, solid as a rock, pressed down all other feelings. She would do anything, everything, she could to protect her sister from any more hurt.
“If anyone bothers us, I’ll take a shovel to the side of his head.”
Belle’s eyes widened. “You’d hurt him?”
Belle meant Ward. Red meant anyone who threatened them. “If he tried to bother us, I would.”
Rocking back and forth, Belle considered Red silently. Then she came to a decision. “Maybe you shouldn’t hurt him.”
Red’s head snapped back. This from a little girl who had as much reason to hate men as anyone. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, if you hurt him he might not want to help us. It’s scary and dark out there.” She tilted her head toward the door and Red knew she referred to the half hour or so she’d hidden in the bushes. “Besides, I like this.” She went to the table, climbed up on a chair and pressed her hand to a picture mounted on the wall.
Red hadn’t paid any attention to it, but now she moved closer. A sampler done in various stitches, pretty flowers and designs around words. The words, done in black cross-stitch, “Whither shall I flee from Thy presence? The darkness and light are both alike to Thee.” The words brushed a dark spot deep within. “It’s very nice. I wonder who made it,” Red said.
“I think someone’s mother.”
Red sat down on the bed and Belle sat beside her. “Why do you think so?”
“Because Mama made one like this for me, didn’t she? Remember? She hung it over my bed and said I should never forget the words.”
The memory rushed toward Red. She tried to dam it back. She could not let her thoughts hearken back to those happy, innocent days. Everything about her past filled her with crippling regret.
“I ’member her making it.”
So did Red. The dam broke and she was back at her childhood home. She was warm, happy, secure in her parents’ love and protection. Seems the house glowed with treasures, each representing love. Mama sat in a rocking chair that had been Grandma’s and told stories of sitting on her own mother’s lap ensconced in the same chair where Red remembered sitting on Mama’s knees and later, where she and Mama took turns rocking Belle. What a sweet baby she’d been. “A gift from heaven for us all,” Mama had said time and again. “After losing so many babies, God has granted us Belle to fill our hearts with joy.” Indeed the happiness in the house had reached new heights with the safe arrival of Belle. Mama had once said she might not live to see Belle marry and asked Red to promise she’d see Belle was properly cared for. Red had readily agreed, never suspecting an accident would thrust the role upon her so unexpectedly.
“Mama hung it over my bed on my fourth birthday.”
“I’m surprised you remember.”
“I didn’t till I saw this one. Then I ’membered.”
“I remember, too.” Mama had stitched a cradle with a baby in it, a window behind the cradle with light pouring in. She’d carefully selected the scripture. “I want something that will encourage Belle her entire life. No matter what may happen,” their mother had said.
Oh, how disappointed her parents would be that Red hadn’t protected Belle as she’d promised. She would live with that regret to her dying day and the moment she stepped into heaven, she would beg their forgiveness.
Not that she was sure God would let her into heaven after the events of the past year and her vow to never forgive Thorton.
“I remember the words, too,” Belle said.
Red did, too, though she no longer believed them with childlike innocence and wondered if Belle did.
“‘I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’ Red, do you think Mama would be angry that I did forget them for a little while?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Red, do you still pray?”
She wished she could avoid the question. She had no desire to rob Belle of whatever faith and trust she still had. But she couldn’t lie. “Not much.”
“Me, either, but when I was locked in Old Mike’s cabin I remembered a prayer Mama said and I said it out loud. That’s what I was doing when you came for me.”