Jacob paused and looked up, memorizing the landscape around him. One day he’d like to come back here. Maybe bring a more permanent headstone than the name and date roughly carved in the towering pine he’d chosen as Obadiah’s final resting place. He heaved a heavy sigh, then turned and walked away, Fernand and Kip trailing behind him. Dantès watched them go, on the verge of movement yet completely still, like a marble statue carved by a master artisan. Jacob would miss him. But he knew that the hound couldn’t be forced to leave his beloved master’s side. It’d have to be his own choice.
While he walked through the vibrant woods, Jacob mused, seeing his whole life laid before him, superimposed on the game trail that was taking him out of the mountains. He saw the many hardships spiced with just enough moments of happiness to keep him satiated, all the conversations and chance encounters that had changed him and steered him to this moment.
His entire life he’d felt like he’d been struggling up a mountain, chains and burdens dragging on his every step. And now: blessed relief. Someone else was carrying his burdens. Carrying him. He felt seen and loved in a way he had never experienced before. All the Scripture Obadiah had quoted reverberated in time with his footsteps, surrounding him with truth.
It was as if a blindfold had been stripped from his eyes. Now he could see. All of his striving had been meaningless. He cringed. He saw his anger as a throbbing thread woven through every moment of his life, tainting the very fabric of his relationships. Even his love for Kate seemed shallow. Sincere, yes, but so selfish. He had clung to her, trying to fill his heart with something good, but however wonderful it was, it had still sifted away like sand through his fingers, leaving him just as empty as before.
But now the love of the Lord filled every dark and broken crevice in his heart. He was whole for the first time in his life. Despite the pain of his loss, he couldn’t stop smiling, and he didn’t think Obadiah would mind in the least.
Jacob made six miles that day and nine the next. By the afternoon of the third day from Obadiah’s grave, they were well and truly out of the mountains.
Scattered sagebrush dusted the arid landscape amidst the soft, silvery green of the first bluestem of the season. A playful prairie wind danced through the valleys, painting its intricate pattern on the hillsides, caressing the tops of the cottonwoods lining the little creek. The trees whispered to each other, showing off their new adornment of spring leaves, reveling in the tender breeze as it coaxed each little bud to open to the warm midday sun. Its life-giving rays streamed down from a sky painted the most perfect shade of blue. Brilliant white clouds drifted lazily, their edges gilt in gold, seeming close enough to touch. Jacob breathed deep. The air was an elixir of new life. He wished he could somehow bottle it, carry it with him, keep it on hand for those dark nights when the world crashed down, a reminder that seasons come and go, and spring and life and morning are just a breath away.
The McGrath spread was close. So close that he jumped at the shadow of a red hawk gliding above him, thinking it might be someone out checking cows on the far reaches of their pasture. Jacob’s heart clenched. To think he was so near to Kate, yet she was forever out of reach, forever someone else’s to love. She had tried to tell him about the Lord, tried to reach past his walls of anger and self-reliance to touch his heart with the vital importance of the gospel, of surrender, of truth, but he had pushed it away. He had survived on his own for so long, dependence was as unknown to him as the wilds of Africa. Besides, what good had faith done for his mother?
Now he knew. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that faith was the most important thing a man could have. He hung his head. It was too little too late. If only he had listened! How different life might look now.
He contemplated skirting the whole homestead, trying to maneuver best he could so no one would notice his passing, but he’d have to make a strenuous climb over a shale-filled ridge; either that or take a circuitous route miles and miles to the west and back again to head southeast to Fort Laramie.
What’s more, he knew it was the coward’s way out. Jacob felt nothing but shame when he thought about the last time he’d seen Kate, how he’d exploded in anger at her for having the audacity to live her own life and make her own choices. He needed to make amends, repair that bridge, at least a bit, in order to feel easy about truly closing that chapter of his life. He bucked up his courage. No matter how much it hurt, he needed to do it.Besides, he thought,she’d be so pleased to hear I’ve come to the Lord.His mouth curved in a soft, sad smile. The look on her beautiful face would be worth it, even if it was the last time he’d see it.He breathed a prayer. “Lord, give me strength.”
The sun quickly sank toward the western horizon. Jacob started seeing signs of grazing livestock, even the gray ash of a long-dead branding fire. Should he make camp now? Was it far enough away from the homestead? If Aaron McGrath noticed smoke from an unidentified campfire, he’d sure as sugar come out to investigate. But if he kept going, he’d likely make it to the McGrath place just as night descended, and, knowing Edith, he’d never be able to say no to a hot supper and a bed in the hayloft. And though they might have their own place by now, Kate would likely be with her ma if Andrew and the McGrath men were out with the stock. To be in the same room as Kate, breathing the same air, for anything more than a moment would be excruciating. But Aaron would neverforgive him for not staying. Jacob groaned. Could he bear the hurt of it for the sake of these dear friends?
A shot rang out to his right and a herd of antelope burst into motion, leaping down the hillside.
Fernand tossed his head, eyes rolling, and he sidestepped, kicking up dust. Jacob kept a firm hold on the lead line, trying to calm him before he bolted and took Kip with him, along with every single one of Jacob’s earthly possessions. Jacob dragged them behind a group of boulders. He scanned the ridge, blue eyes focused, muscles taut.
Once he was sure Fernand wouldn’t bolt, Jacob grabbed his shotgun from its holster on Kip’s pack. He brought the gun to his shoulder, steadying his arm on the cool stone, sighting down the barrel, doing slow, measured sweeps of the hillside, eyes sharp for the slightest movement.
There. Just beneath the ridgeline. A lone rider on a sorrel mount slowly made their way down to the valley bottom. He saw the familiar lines of a stock saddle and breathed in relief, relaxing his hold on his gun. A settler then. They must have missed their shot. There was no urgency to their movements. Could it be Aaron, or Ian? Jacob was close enough to their homestead for them to be out hunting. Or maybe it was Andrew? His belly soured.Please, anyone but Andrew.
He stood still, talking to Fernand and Kip in a soft whisper, gun held low and easy in his hands but muscles tensed to react. Jacob studied the rider as they approached, unaware of his presence, the warm, late afternoon light pouring like golden honey down the valley. The rider wasn’t nearly broad enough to be Aaron. Ian? But no, Ian’s mount was a dark bay. A broad-brimmed hat shadowed the rider’s face, and a long coat obscured their figure. But there was a tantalizing familiarity to the way they rode, the lithe ease with which they kept their seat through the lengthening shadows of the uneven, rocky terrain, a willowy sort of strength to their skill. Jacob’s heart stopped.
It can’t be.
The rider turned their head to watch a hawk fly over the ridge, face tilting to a sky tinged with the first blush of sunset, the sun catching the gold and russet woven through a tangled chestnut braid that slipped over their shoulder. Jacob let out a breath like he’d been punched in the gut.
Kate.
She was even more stunning than Jacob remembered. Like the beauty of the mountains, all strong and stately, with wild and graceful lines that a man could stare at for a lifetime and never get enough of. Watching her ride was one of his favorite things. He just stared as she came nearer, one of her hands easy on the reins, the other cradling a shotgun, guiding her mare with her long legs. Jacob’s mouth curved in a wondering half smile. Kate McGrath, the girl who wore trousers and rode like a cowboy, had taken his heart so completely that he couldn’t imagine loving anything more. His smile faded as pain lanced through him. And he’d never get to love her again. Yet he couldn’t help thinking of the last time he’d seen her, in a ramshackle barn not far from here, the sunlight catching the gold in her hair, the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her lips. He clenched his eyes shut, the fissures in his already-broken heart widening. She’d never be his to hold.
Did he have the strength to look her in the eyes and say a final goodbye? His insides reeled against the idea. Every part of him wanted to turn away, to hide from the hurt, to stuff it deep down inside and never look at it again.
He heard Obadiah’s soft, raspy voice echo in his mind.To truly love someone, you love them just for who they are, not for what they give you. You want their happiness above everythin’, even if it means breakin’ your own heart in the process.And like flashes of lightning in a dark sky, into his swirling thoughts came verses from the scriptures the old trapper had read night after night in that little cabin in the mountains.Let not the sun go down upon your wrath … Follow peace with all men, and holiness, without which no man shall see the Lord: Looking diligently lest any man fail of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up trouble you.Jacob looked to the sky. “Lord, I know what I gotta do. Give me the strength to do it.”
He slowly replaced his gun in its holster, adjusted Obadiah’s old, floppy hat on his head, and gathered the lines of the pack animals, every movement like swimming through molasses. Kate was nearly abreast of him across the valley floor. Hoping not to startle her, Jacob eased out from behind the boulders, Kip and Fernand trailing behind.
At the sound of his boots crunching the rocks underfoot, Kate’s head whipped around. She jerked her horse to a stop and snapped her gun to her shoulder, aiming directly at his heart with a steady hand, even as her horse danced underneath her with the sudden tension.
“Stop right there!” she called out sharply. “Don’t you dare come a step closer! I know how to use this, and I ain’t afraid to either.”
Jacob halted and slowly raised his hands in a mollifying gesture, showing her that all he held were the lines of his animals. And, in the heat of that charged moment with her gun trained on his chest, he noticed something that sent a shock of desperate hope surging through him.
She was wearing his hat.
Chapter 37
“Now,IknowIlook a sight, Kate McGrath, but I’d hoped you’d at least recognize me.”
