Colorado Courtship: Winter of Dreams / The Rancher's Sweetheart. Cheryl St.John
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in a cloakroom before coming back and escorting them into the sanctuary.
A few older men spoke to Ben Charles as they made their way forward. About halfway toward the front of the narrow building, he stepped aside and ushered them into a row of pews, Tessa leading the way. Violet sat between brother and sister and studied her surroundings.
Sun shone through the stained-glass windows on one wall and reflected color across the polished pews as well as the heads and shoulders of the people seated in the front rows. The scenes depicted were robed men and women, what she recognized as shepherds, the nativity, the crucifixion. As she looked at each one, she realized there was an order, beginning with the ten commandments, but she didn’t know what the loaves of bread or the men on the fishing boat stood for.
The first strains of organ music caught her attention and she straightened to see who was playing the lovely music.
Glancing aside, she caught Ben Charles watching her. Warmth crept up her cheeks.
“Is this different from where you attended church?” he asked.
“Very different.” She attempted to look away and let the subject drop, but the lie of omission wouldn’t let her keep silent. She looked up into his kind and compassionate eyes. “To be honest, I’ve never been to church before.”
His surprise was evident in his expression. “I hope you enjoy it. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to answer them afterward.”
She nodded and averted her gaze just as two rows of burgundy-robed men and women filed in from a side door and stood behind the podium.
The preacher joined them before the seated congregation. “Shall we all rise?”
He prayed, but not as conversationally as Ben Charles did. When he’d finished, he sat and the choir led the congregation in songs. It was obvious Ben Charles and Tessa had sung them many times, because they barely looked at the music book the three of them shared, but Violet followed along with the words.
Ben Charles’s nearness beside her as they sang unnerved her. He had a pleasant singing voice, and the barely discernible scents of his woodsy soap and shaving cream pleased her senses. She tried not to be distracted by his hand holding the book or his arm brushing her shoulder, but it was impossible. He was larger than life and because of that his presence took up more space and air than the average person.
The preacher talked about Moses, and Ben Charles turned to the story in the front of his Bible. He held it so Violet could see, too. She listened with fascination as the man spoke of the pharaoh who kept the Israelites in bondage to his will, and how God called on Moses to lead the people to freedom. The man had a gift for storytelling, and Violet sat enthralled as he related how the pharaoh’s chariots chased the Israelites and the sea parted to let them escape, then closed behind them, swallowing up the enemies in pursuit.
Occasionally she looked at Ben Charles’s Bible to see that the preacher was indeed relating the story as it unfolded there.
After another song the service ended. A few neighbors introduced themselves to Violet, and Ben Charles introduced her to the preacher, whom he called Reverend Densmore.
“You’re welcome to join us for lunch,” Ben Charles told Violet as they made their way through the path in the snow to the carriage. “But remember it’s your day off, and you may do anything you please.”
She didn’t know anyone else yet, and she had no idea where she’d go, except back to the house alone. “I’d like to join you. Thank you for the invitation.”
The dining room of the Conrad Hotel was decorated in warm tones, and a blazing fire burned in a huge stone fireplace. Sounds of glasses and silverware were muted by the massive beams overhead and velvet swag draperies tied back with gold cords.
A waiter brought them menus and Violet studied the meals listed and the prices.
“The roast chicken is always good,” Tessa told her. “And the pot roast is tender. It’s served with potatoes and carrots in a delicious gravy.”
“What do you like?” she asked Ben Charles.
“I almost always get a steak or the trout. And their cook does something special with the fried potatoes that makes them crispy.”
When the waiter returned she ordered the trout. They were served steaming bowls of dark onion soup while they waited for their meals.
“Was that story true?” she asked Ben Charles. “About Moses and the pharaoh?”
“I believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God and everything in it is true,” he replied. “The men who recorded the happenings were the scholars of their time and wrote it all down as God led them. The Scripture was preserved over time. Scrolls were translated, and eventually type was set and the Bible printed into languages we can all understand.”
“It’s just kind of hard to imagine a sea opening up and letting six hundred thousand men walk through.”
“Able-bodied men, the verses say,” Ben Charles agreed. “Plus the children and all the women—probably old men who weren’t able-bodied being carried. And their herds and flocks, and the spoils they’d taken from the Egyptians.”
“Think of how long it must have taken to get across the sea,” Violet said in awe.
“I read about that sea in my studies,” Tessa spoke up. “It’s known as the Sea of Aquaba now, but it was the Red Sea in the Old Testament. Men have discovered a three-mile-wide land bridge from one side of the sea to the other. Archaeologists suggest a strong wind held back a few feet of water temporarily.” She glanced at her brother. “Remember when I showed that to you?”
Ben Charles nodded.
“Then perhaps the whole thing can be explained by natural means,” Violet suggested.
Ben Charles smiled. “Archeologists know about that land bridge now, but God knew about it all along. He planned it at creation for such a time as He’d need it to save Moses and his people. I don’t believe in coincidence. Even if He used natural means to save His people, God prepared the way supernaturally.”
Violet had a lot of information to absorb. “It’s all so fascinating.”
“The story itself or how God planned ahead to save the Israelites?” Ben Charles asked.
“Both,” she said with a smile. “This God of yours seems pretty amazing.”
Ben Charles exchanged a glance with his sister. They both smiled at her.
A middle-aged couple stopped to speak with Ben Charles briefly. He introduced them to Violet. “We will see you tomorrow,” the gentleman said as they departed.
“What’s tomorrow?” Violet asked.
“Guy Chapman’s funeral service and burial.”
“The ground’s not too frozen?” Tessa asked.
“Henry and his helpers were able to open the plot yesterday,” he replied.
Violet’s mood plummeted.
She finished her tea and folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to know gruesome details of the burial.
As though he sensed her discomfort, Ben Charles changed the subject, asking her if she cared for dessert. She was full, as was Tessa, so he paid the bill and they headed for the house.
“I hope snow holds off a day longer,” he said as they sat huddled in a row on the seat of the buggy.
The heavy gray sky issued a warning.
“Is Mr. Chapman’s family traveling?” Tessa asked.
“Only a son from Iowa, and he’s already here,” Ben Charles replied. “The rest of his family is close by.”
The ride home went smoothly, since Ben Charles had already cleared the road for the horses on their way to