When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.
Danny joined her on melody, and Kate floated up to the harmony above, and with Ma’s rich alto and Ian’s bass, the family sang in glorious harmony the joyful truth of the hymn:
When He shall come with trumpet sound,
O may I then in Him be found:
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand:
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
As their voices faded, Kate heard an echo of the last words out in the twilight. But it wasn’t an echo. It was the voices of their neighbors, their brothers and sisters in Christ, lifted together in hopeful praise. As the hymn faded into a peaceful stillness, Pa called out, “The Lord be with you!” And from the dusky air they heard scattered replies of, “And also with you!” Kate listened contentedly to the greeting being passed throughout the camp, leaving peace and hope in its wake.Yes,Kate thought,the Lord is surely with us. And suddenly the days ahead didn’t seem so bleak.
Chapter 21
Thoughthenextmorningdawned cloudy and gray and wet, Kate still felt buoyed up by the shared faith in Christ so freely expressed by the dying embers of last night’s fire. Even the fact that this was her eleventh straight day of driving the wagon couldn’t dampen her mood. She smiled under the brim of her sodden hat and quoted to the rain: “If God is for us, who can be against us?” She sent a prayer of thanks to her Father in heaven.
“Talkin’ to yourself, Miss McGrath?”
Kate looked up in surprise to see Jacob keeping pace beside her. He sat comfortably in the saddle, creating a striking picture with his broad frame swathed in a rain-darkened jacket. Her heart quickened. She had asked if they could be friends, and here he was, finally, extending an olive branch. Although the use of her last name stung a little. She smiled brightly, hiding her jumbled feelings, bringing things back to the way they were before they got so complicated. “I was just talkin’ to the Lord, I’ll have you know,” she said lightly, “and you just interrupted our conversation, so you’d better have somethin’ important to say, Mr. Munroe.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, sir.” He tipped his hat first to her and then to the sky. Kate smiled, relieved he could joke with her after all that had happened. He continued, “I was just informin’ everyone that we’ll make Scott’s Bluff by sundown tomorrow.”
“Really?” Kate craned her neck excitedly around the canvas mast of her wagon, trying to look south. “If we’re that close to Scott’s Bluff, shouldn’t we be able to see Chimney Rock right about now?”
“Oh, you can most days, but it’ll be real tough in this weather.” He squinted up at the dripping clouds and tugged at the collar of his slicker.
Kate sighed in disappointment. “It’d be downright unjust if I missed somethin’ like Chimney Rock because of a little rain! I wanted to see everythin’.” She searched through the curtain of raindrops, trying to make out the pillar of stone she had painted in her imagination. “And here I was thankful for the rain because at least that meant no dust!”
“We’ll be back in the dust in no time, I can tell you that. But,” he continued, voice casual and nonchalant, “if you don’t mind a bit of rain, or eatin’ in the saddle, I could be persuaded into leadin’ an expedition.”
She smiled gleefully. “Oh, I never mind a bit of rain, Mr. Munroe.”
“I figured as much,” he responded with a small laugh. Glancing up the train, he continued quickly. “If it’s all right by you, I’ll swing by as soon as we’ve stopped.”
“It’s a plan, Mr. Munroe.” Kate followed his gaze and caught sight of another outrider coming down the train.
“’Til later then, Miss McGrath.” Tipping his hat again, he nudged his buckskin mount into an easy jog.
Kate watched the two riders pass, acknowledge each other with stiff nods, and continue with straight backs and squared shoulders, oozing masculine tension. For some reason unknown to her, Jacob and Andrew had been barely civil to each other since the events at Fort Kearney. Did Jacob hold Andrew responsible for her attack? Did Andrew hold himself responsible? He had seemed aloof, rarely coming by in the evenings as he used to. Kate shook her head. No. Only her own naïveté was responsible for what happened that night. If only she hadn’t been blinded by a dashing uniform and meaningless flattery. If only she hadn’t been deludedby a romantic daydream. She shuddered, pushing down the memories, tasting bile.
Andrew rode up and turned his big bay gelding into the exact spot Jacob had just vacated. Forcing a smile, Kate said, “Good mornin’, Andrew.”
“Mornin’, Miss Kate,” he responded stoically.
There was a long pause. He looked away, then at her, then away again. She didn’t know what to say. They hadn’t really talked about what happened at Fort Kearney. She didn’t want to talk about what happened at Fort Kearney.
