Brides of Arizona, page 39
Anger bubbled up, making Lavette’s words come out in a bitter torrent. “I don’t ask God about anything. He quit caring about me and my family a long time ago. For years my mama said Jesus would set us free and things would be better. Well, look what happened. My mama got sick, and I ended up in bondage again.”
Pushing the door open, she flung her parting words in a hushed voice. “I can’t stop you from praying, but don’t ever ask me to pray with you.” Stepping inside, only the thought of Mrs. Sawyer sleeping kept Lavette from slamming the door in his face.
Chapter 9
Josiah slipped the rod into the hot coals, twisting it with the tongs until the metal lay settled among the glowing embers. Next to the bar, he placed a crucible with iron to melt. His left hand automatically found the cord to the bellows. He pulled, sending a steady stream of air to intensify the heat. The coals glowed from reddish-orange to white hot. Tiny flames, lissome dancers, rose up and swayed across the embers in a graceful, ethereal rhythm. Mesmerized, Josiah heard nothing around him.
As he waited for the ore to heat so he could begin work on the nails and the new axe head one of his customers had ordered, Josiah tried to ignore the inner heaviness that weighed on him this morning. Lavette’s parting words yesterday evening had kept him awake most of the night. He knew he could never marry someone who didn’t share his love for and belief in Jesus Christ. All this time, he’d taken Lavette’s faith for granted. He’d assumed she loved Jesus as much as he did. He should have known better. The voice of his mother reminding him that a young lady’s spiritual beauty would always be more important than her physical charm rang through his mind.
When Lavette appeared at his smithy that first morning, he’d known she was a gift from God. He hadn’t questioned, only accepted. Now he knew that he should have discussed her faith at the first opportunity rather than have his heart broken when he discovered her disbelief. How could he have been so blind? What should he do now?
Lifting the crucible from the fire, Josiah checked to see if the iron was ready, then placed the partially molten ore back in the heat. Using the tongs, he turned the iron bar. He couldn’t seem to focus today. Of course, he hadn’t been thinking right since Lavette walked into his life. She’d managed, in a very short time, to turn his reasoning upside down.
After running his hand over the smooth face of his anvil, Josiah went on to check over his tools. He knew the importance of caring for the implements of his trade. He’d made most of them himself, although a few were ones his father had given him when he left home. With these tools and the knowledge he carried, he would always be able to make his way. His father had seen to that.
The long tongs fastened onto the glowing shaft. Josiah lifted the hot iron from the embers, careful to keep away from the sparks. The small scars dotting his bare arms bore testimony to the dangers of the flying ash and coal.
“That’s what I like to see—a man hard at work.”
Josiah swung around to grin at Conlon. “Have you ever thought of trying it for yourself, or do you spend so much time watching those soldiers of yours, you don’t have time to do any physical labor?”
“A cruel blow.” Conlon tried to act affronted, but the sparkle in his eyes told the truth. “You have no idea the mental anguish I suffer from forcing all those cavalrymen to do their jobs every day.”
Josiah shook his head. Sometimes Conlon didn’t have a serious bone in his body. That’s one of the reasons they were able to stay so close. They seemed to both have the ability to laugh and forgive. Then, too, being brothers in faith helped build a strong bond between them. God had worked a miracle by giving him such wonderful friends.
“So, how many horses do I need to shoe for you today?” Josiah gave a light tug on the bellows rope, then moved away from the heat.
A wounded look crossed Conlon’s face. “I didn’t bring you work. It so happens I need a valuable opinion, and you were the first one I thought to ask.”
“What have you done now? Is Glorianna making you sleep in the barn with the horse?”
Conlon chuckled. “With those twins walking and getting into everything, that might not be so bad.” He pursed his mouth in a thoughtful expression. “Come to think of it, the horse doesn’t pull my hair, climb all over me, or scream in my ear, and I never need to change his diapers.”
“Your horse wears diapers?” Josiah raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. “That must be an interesting sight.”
Conlon’s grin turned to a chuckle, then a roar of laughter. His eyes crinkled, tears of mirth winking in the light of the fire. Gasping, Conlon wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I have to admit that would be a funny sight.” He continued to chuckle. “No, my horse doesn’t wear diapers. If he did, I would probably take him inside at night. I think he would be great at helping corral those kids of mine.”
Glancing at the forge, Josiah could see he needed to check the heating metal. Tongs in hand, he picked up the bar and moved it to the edge of the fire. After placing the crucible next to the iron, he turned back to his friend.
“So, what kind of advice can I give you?”
“I’m interested in purchasing some new horses for the cavalry. I went to look at some yesterday, and I wanted to see if you know of them. Eduardo Villegas has them for sale. I know he’s honest, because he’s been selling cattle to the cavalry for a number of years. Now, he’s raising horses too. Have you seen them?”
Josiah nodded. “I know Villegas. He has some fine stock. He’s been working to build a herd for awhile now. I’d think he would be a good one to buy from. He treats his animals right. Do you want me to go with you to look them over?”
“I think I already had my mind made up, but if you get the chance to look at them, you might give me your opinion.” Conlon rubbed the back of his neck. “His horses are a mite more money than some others, but they seem sound. I wanted to see what you thought before I spent the extra for them.”
“He’s been after me to do some work for him. When I’m there, I’ll look over his stock.”
Conlon gave Josiah a devilish grin. “Now that we have business out of the way, how’s the sweetheart? Shall I have Glory and Kathleen start working on a wedding dress?”
Josiah resisted the urge to make a face. Instead, he turned to check the forge. With the tongs, he carefully plucked the crucible from the midst of the burning embers. After setting the fiery hot container on the bench, he lifted the lid and put it to one side. Heat waves undulated up from the molten mass. In a ritual he’d practiced since he was a boy, Josiah lifted the pot and poured the melted iron into the molds he had ready. Conlon stood silent, watching the whole process, a serious expression replacing the levity of moments before.
Placing the empty jar in its proper place, Josiah turned to inspect his work. He didn’t want to ignore his friend, but right now, he wasn’t sure he could talk about his relationship with Lavette. After last night there couldn’t be any relationship, and that thought was eating a hole in his heart.
“Okay, Josiah.” Conlon’s hand on Josiah’s arm halted him in midstep. “I think we need to sit down and talk. Have any coffee around here?” Conlon glanced to the corner of the smithy where Josiah usually had hot brew ready to share with a customer.
“I’ll get you some.” Josiah pulled free with little effort and filled two cups. This was the problem with having a good friend. Conlon could read him like a book. In a way, he wanted to confide in Conlon, knowing he would get godly advice. At least Conlon would care enough to listen; however, what he felt for Lavette seemed so precious, Josiah didn’t know if he could bare his heart even to his best friend.
Conlon took a long sip of coffee and made a face. “When did you make this stuff—last week?”
Leaning back against the side of the shop, Josiah shrugged. “I can’t afford to make fresh coffee every five minutes in case you show up and want some.” He took a sip. “You could be right. This tastes like it’s left over from a month ago.” He chuckled, a hollow sound that echoed in his broken heart.
“So, care to talk?” Conlon blew the steam across the top of his cup, then slurped noisily. He grinned and winked at Josiah. “I can’t do that at home. Glory would look daggers at me. Now, what happened between you and Miss Johnson? The last I heard, she was the best thing since store-bought boots. Isn’t she as sweet as you first thought?”
Josiah couldn’t help the smile that creased his cheeks. “Oh, she’s sweet all right. I’ve never met a more delightful gal.”
“Then what’s the problem? She doesn’t go for a big oaf like you?” Conlon grinned.
“I’d say she’s a mite taken with me.” Josiah rested his elbows on his knees, the steam from his coffee wafting past his eyes. “The problem is, last night when we were talking, I found out she and I don’t share a faith in Jesus. In fact, she’s carrying a mighty big grudge against God.”
For several minutes, Conlon sat silent, sipping and listening as Josiah related the events of the previous evening. “She was so angry when I mentioned praying that she almost slammed the door in my face. I’ll still pray for her, but I can’t consider pursuing anything serious. Even if, as a child, she did believe in Jesus, right now she’s full of resentment and anger toward Him.”
“So, you’re going to give up on her?” Conlon set his empty mug on the bench.
“I’m not giving up. I’ve been begging Jesus to help her all night and all day.” Josiah tried not to be angry at his friend. “I don’t know what more I can do.”
“I apologize.” Conlon gripped Josiah’s shoulder. “I seem to remember a friend of mine telling me to be patient and let God have a chance to work. Why don’t we agree to pray together for Miss Johnson? You know the power of that. I’ll even get Glory and the Kirbys to join with us.”
“I’d appreciate that.” Josiah stood and stretched. He had to get back to work. “I don’t know that there’s any chance she’s the right woman for me, but that doesn’t matter as much as her getting over her anger at God.”
Conlon stood and handed Josiah his cup. “You know, Glory and Kathleen have already visited her once. Maybe they could stop by again and invite her to our Sunday morning meeting. If the invitation comes from them, maybe she won’t find it as easy to say no.”
The heaviness in Josiah’s heart eased. “I’ll pray specifically that she’ll agree to come.” He nodded at Conlon. “Thanks. Tell Glory hello for me.” Josiah turned and walked back into the smithy with a lighter step than he’d had since last evening.
Lavette folded the bread dough over and pushed, sending a whoosh of yeasty smell into the air. She folded and pushed again, kneading the pockets of air out of the dough, making it smooth. Patting the mound into a ball shape, she placed it on a bed of flour and covered the mass with a soft cloth to keep the flies away while the leavening worked.
On the counter near the stove, a batch of cinnamon rolls was rising, nearly ready to pop into the oven. Two pies cooled on the open windowsill. Ever since last night when she’d exploded at Josiah, Lavette couldn’t seem to stay still. She’d gotten up early from a restless night and begun baking. The familiarity of the routine helped to calm her ragged nerves.
Guilt ate at her. She could recall her mother and father talking in hushed whispers about the Lord Jesus and how He would come to take them to glory-land one day. Her mother taught her songs about climbing a ladder into heaven and other spirituals. Their master didn’t allow the slaves to have formal services, but even he couldn’t stop the secret meetings that occurred after dark when they were supposed to be too tired to talk. Lavette could still remember curling up in a corner of the room, wide-eyed, as her parents and other couples would share bits of Scripture they’d learned. Early on she caught the excitement of a Savior who would one day deliver them. For years, along with many of her relatives and friends, she’d clung to that hope. Had she been wrong to turn her back on God when He let her down? Where were all those promises? Why had God said one thing, then done another? If she couldn’t trust God to keep His word, then how could she trust Him with her life?
By the end of the War Between the States, she’d been sure Jesus was setting His people free. Then she would have all the privileges of independence like Miss Susannah. That hadn’t happened. Instead, she and her family suffered even more, and within a short time she was once again a slave. Oh, they didn’t call her that, but she was one all the same.
Anger churned in her stomach. She pushed away the bitterness and tried to recall her mother’s face and the reason she’d given up so much for her family. They were worth the cost, weren’t they? If she had the chance to choose again, she would do the same thing. Only this time she wouldn’t go into servanthood with any misconception that Jesus would come along and rescue her. Reality had long ago overturned that delusion.
The tinkle of a bell chimed from the other room. Mrs. Sawyer must be finished with her lunch. Lavette took the cloth off the cinnamon buns and slid the pan into the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron and hurried down the hall.
“Thank you, Dear.” Mrs. Sawyer gave a smile. “I can’t tell you how wonderful I feel today. It must be this warm, dry air. I’d like to sit in the parlor for awhile and look out the window. Would you mind helping me?”
Lavette returned her mistress’s smile. In the past days Mrs. Sawyer had made a vast improvement. A pink flush tinted her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with life. Her cough had disappeared. Lavette couldn’t remember the last time Mrs. Sawyer was this well.
“I think you’ve been enjoying your daughter and those sweet grandchildren.” Lavette steadied Mrs. Sawyer with one arm holding her around the waist and the other on her closest shoulder. “This visit has done you a lot of good.”
“I believe you’re right.” Mrs. Sawyer took several steps and stopped to rest, leaning against Lavette for support. “I think I shall get up every day and try walking a little farther. Maybe if I start sitting up more, I’ll gain some strength.”
“As long as you don’t tire yourself too much.” Lavette helped her through the door to the parlor and into the chair by the window. “Would you like me to bring a blanket for your lap? I don’t want you chilling.”
“That would be very nice.” The light appeared to shine through Mrs. Sawyer’s paper thin, blue-veined hands as she held them in the sunlight that streamed inside. Plucking a lap quilt from the back of a chair, Lavette spread the comforter over Mrs. Sawyer’s legs, tucking the edge under to hold in the warmth.
An odd rapping issued from the front door. Mrs. Sawyer’s countenance brightened. “Oh, I do hope that’s Gretta come to visit. Did she plan to come today?”
“I don’t believe she did.” Lavette frowned. “I’ll see who it is and be right back.”
At the front door she stopped, her hand trembling on the latch. What if Josiah had come back? The thought made her heart leap even though she’d done her best to scare him away for good. The rapping began again. Lavette took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Her hand tightened on the wood. She couldn’t speak. She began to quake—not from anticipation, but from fear.
Chapter 10
Good day, Miss Johnson.” Bertrand Mead’s smooth tone sent dread racing through Lavette. He still held his silver-headed cane aloft, ready to rap on the door once more, should it close on him. “I came to speak with your mistress, if you’ll let her know I’m here. She is available for company, isn’t she?” His small eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard she’s getting stronger and is able to receive callers.”
Lavette opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The door latch cut into her palm, the pain easing some of the fear. She wanted to slam the door shut and pile every stick of furniture in the house against it to keep this man away. The devil himself couldn’t have been much scarier.
“Well, may I come in?” He bent toward her, and she could smell again the cloying aroma of whatever he used after he washed. Her stomach roiled like she was rocking on a storm-tossed ship.
“Lavette, Dear, who’s here?” At the sound of Mrs. Sawyer’s quavery voice, Mead raised one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a contemptuous smile.
“I’ll go announce you.” Lavette took a quick step back and started to shut the door. Mead inserted his cane, striking the door with an audible thump.
“I’ll step inside while you notify Mrs. Sawyer of my presence.” His shoes clicked smartly as he moved past her and slid the door closed behind him.
Lavette backed away, doing her best to repress a shudder as his slimy gaze flicked over her. Rounding the door to the parlor, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her whole body shook.
“Why, whatever is the matter, Girl? You look a little peaked.” Mrs. Sawyer bent forward, peering intently at Lavette.
“I believe I’ve startled your servant without intending to, Ma’am.”
Lavette whirled to find Mead standing in the doorway behind her. “Mrs. Sawyer, Mr. Bertrand Mead is here to see you.” Her voice sounded hollow and shaky.
“What a pleasure. I don’t get much company. Come in and sit down, young man.”
Lavette moved to the side, hoping Mead wouldn’t touch her as he walked past. He crossed the room and bent over Mrs. Sawyer, lifting her hand for a gentleman’s kiss.
“Good afternoon. I’m acquainted with your son-in-law, Paul Ashton. He talks so much about you, I decided to come by and see for myself if you are as wonderful as he says.”
Mrs. Sawyer giggled. Lavette’s stomach clenched, the contents threatening to come up.
“I’ll have none of that flattery, Mr. Mead. Sit down here beside me. Lavette, why don’t you bring us something? I’m sure Mr. Mead would enjoy some refreshments.”
“Why, yes, I would.” Mead’s eyes bored into Lavette, reminding her he intended to own her. “If I’m not mistaken, I smell something delicious baking. Paul’s commented on your servant’s excellent cooking skills. I’m sure they’re only the beginning of her talents.”
