Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana (25 page)

A tautness clamped Julia’s throat, but she pushed ahead. “I read something…in your Bible.”

The lines in Isaac’s forehead relaxed. “Oh, you had me worried. Do you have a question about a passage? I love talking with you about the Scriptures.”

“No, no, not that.” Julia gripped the arms of the chair. “I mean in your notes in the back. That first day I stayed in your soddy, I was reading the notes written by your grandfather—at least I think that’s who it was. He seemed like such a godly man, and his words encouraged me.” Her words spilled out, and she glanced up to see Isaac leaning back again. She couldn’t read his gaze.

“What did you find?” He asked the question as if he already knew.

A heaviness fell on Julia’s chest. “I didn’t think I would find anything…well, personal. And Miriam said I could read your Bible.” She paused, waiting for his response.

“Please.” His voice sounded tired, weak. His eyes were intent on hers. “Tell me what you found.”

“I found a letter you wrote to God. It said something about a vow to never get married, and it mentioned someone named Bethany….”

Isaac rose from the sofa and pushed his hand toward her, stopping her words.

“I didn’t mean to read it.” Julia started to rise and then sat down again. “I don’t want to know about it—I just thought I should tell you that I read it.”

Gathering her courage, she stood and approached him. She wanted him to hold her as he had last night. Instead, she stood there, feeling helpless. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, moving her gaze to his eyes.

Isaac’s face did not hold the tenderness she longed to see, yet no bitterness resided there either—just a pained stare. “It’s not your fault.” He stepped back. “You don’t have to apologize.” He moved to the table. Pulling out a chair, he sat down. Then he motioned to the chair next to him.

She sat down and waited, relieved to be getting an explanation even as her foot tapped nervously. Bethany had obviously been a significant part of his past to inspire such a vow. Her heart sank even thinking the words. If he still held to his promise, it would mean the end of her newly sprouting dreams—of a happy life with the man she was falling in love with.

Yet, she had to know. And—her thoughts moved a different direction—why would he have spent so much time with her if he had no intention of courting?
Why did he almost kiss me?
He was surely a more honorable man than that.

A few moments passed, and he turned to the window, gazing out at the blank darkness as if finding his story.

“When I was no older than little Bea, my father was off fighting in the Indian wars.” He glanced at her briefly, and then his gaze turned to his hands—the strong, working hands that had caressed Julia’s face just hours before. “He’d left my mother alone with us children. There was no man there to protect her when a band of Apaches came through looking for revenge. Those Indians—they killed her.”

Julia longed to reach for his hand. Instead she rubbed the back of her neck, squeezing it, trying to ease the tension. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love my father, make no mistake. He’s a good, godly man, and he raised us the best he could, but I always promised myself I’d never leave a wife alone.” His deep brown eyes gazed at hers. “So when I felt God’s call on my life to be a circuit preacher at the age of sixteen, I knew the transient life—always moving from town to town, sleeping on the prairie, never having a permanent home—would not provide the safety a wife would need. I couldn’t let what happened to my mother happen to a wife. So I promised God I’d never marry.”

Julia’s gaze stayed on his face, and she waited for him to continue.

“I knew Milo back then, and he encouraged me to go to seminary—to prepare for ministry—back in my hometown of St. Louis, so I did. And while I was there I met a young woman.”

“Bethany?”

Isaac closed his eyes then opened them. “Yes. We were young and full of dreams and ideas, and we got swept away by a romantic idea of love. The week after I graduated, I asked her to marry me, laying aside my promise to stay single. She said yes, and we made plans to wed in the fall.

“The next month, I journeyed here, to Montana, where Milo had hoped I’d start my circuit-riding ministry. Just as he’d foretold, I soon felt the inward call to minister to the flock here.” A slim smile formed on Isaac’s lips, and he glanced upward, as if traversing back to that time. “When the small group of believers asked me to become their pastor, I longed for nothing more than to fetch Bethany and start our life here. But when I returned to St. Louis, where she was waiting for me…”

Julia sensed the pain in his voice. She silently leaned closer, praying to be a comfort to him, whatever words came next.

“She’d been killed.”

“Oh, Isaac.” Julia ached to take his pain away—as he’d done for her. “What happened?”

“While I was gone, a group of drunken cowboys, returning from a round-up, came through town. She was out walking alone.” His voice dropped to a harsher tone. “We caught one of them—Buck Wiley. He told us when she refused them, they put their hands on her and scuffled. A gun went off—accidentally, according to Wiley—and before any of them knew what happened, she lay on the ground in a pool of blood. She died that night. Alone in the streets. If I’d been there…” Isaac’s gaze pierced into Julia’s.

“But you can’t think it was your fault.”

Such pain filled the parson’s face—and something she thought she’d never see in his eyes. Fear. An anxiety that seemed to grip him tighter than his words could express.

“I know God wasn’t punishing me for breaking my promise. I believe that now. But losing her, after I’d known the danger…” He shook his head. “I don’t think I could suffer that kind of loss—or guilt—again.” He stood and paced to the sofa.

A sick pain lodged in Julia’s throat. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew what he was implying. He was no longer talking about Bethany. He was talking about her—about
them
.

Retrieving his hat, Isaac stepped back and faced her. “I’m sorry, Julia. I never meant for any of this to happen. I shouldn’t have…” His eyes met hers, and he squeezed them shut. “I shouldn’t have offered you anything more than spiritual guidance.” He stepped closer and softened his voice. “After last night I thought maybe I could change…to be with you.” He lifted his hand, and Julia thought he might touch her cheek, but he lowered it again. “But talking about Bethany brings back all the reasons I made the promise in the first place. It’s not safe for a wife to be alone on the prairie. I couldn’t risk your safety.”

Julia saw Isaac’s chest rise and fall. She knew he ached inside, but pain throbbed in her heart, too. “You—you led me to believe…”

Isaac’s eyes pleaded with her. “I’ve done wrong by you, and I don’t blame you if you never forgive me.”

Julia swallowed, stifling the tears, refusing to let them rise. “You never expressed any intentions.” Disappointment filled her like a flash flood, but anger did, too. Anger at herself.
Why did I let myself hope? I had no right to expect a happy future—not for me, a poor orphan with no family but a flighty headmistress
. She waved her hand. “I wasn’t planning on staying around anyway, so you don’t have to worry.” She stood and turned her back to him, knowing if her eyes snagged his, she’d no longer be able to tame her tears.

Behind her, she heard his boot step closer, then pause.

She continued. “Abe says the train comes through every year on the Fourth of July—hasn’t missed that arrival for years.” The idea of getting on that steam engine, going back to New York as she’d planned, now left a raw ache in her heart. When Isaac’s arms had wrapped around her, the strength of his embrace—the comfort of his closeness—had settled over her, resolving her mind with an almost unconscious decision to stay…

Yet it wasn’t to be, and allowing him to witness her disappointment would only prolong her suffering. She pushed away the pang of rejection and stood straighter. Her foolish dreams were all over now. Her choice was clear.

She whirled around, facing him with renewed intensity. “So, even if I don’t hear from Mrs. Gaffin by then, I’ll find a way to be on that train. I’ve heard of women working on the trains to pay their way. Or perhaps I could borrow the money from…someone…and get a job in New York to pay it back. However I do it, I will find a way to go back to New York on or before July fourth.” Julia waited for Isaac to respond, but he said nothing. A sparrow chirping outside the window was the only sound that met her ears.

Finally Isaac nodded, as if coming to a decision. “It’s probably best for you to go back—best for
you
, I mean.” His voice faltered, and Julia wondered if the regret she felt pounded through him as well. “But to go by yourself? It’s not safe.”

Julia shook her head. What did he think she’d been planning to do this whole time? She’d never even considered a chaperone. Didn’t need one. Plenty of women traveled alone these days. She’d even heard of women homesteading by themselves. They’d need a man’s name on the deed, but after that, they were able to manage it alone.

“I’ll be fine.” She turned her head to catch his gaze, which eyed the floorboards. “It’s not your concern.”

“Julia…”

“You better go on home and get some rest,” she finally said. “And I think I’ll do the same.” She crossed her arms, pain coursing from her chest to her stomach.

She’d been abandoned before. First her parents, then Mrs. Gaffin, Bea and Shelby, and now Isaac. The love of a family wasn’t to be hers after all—never would be. Her hands trembled, despite her resolve to be strong. Her knees felt weak. She closed her eyes and an image rushed before her—of him placing his hands on her shoulders once again, telling her he’d changed his mind.

But he didn’t speak. Instead he tipped his hat, his eyes sending an unspoken apology.

And he left.

Isaac told himself he needed to eat, smile, spend time with the people he’d dedicated his life to—even if it was the last thing he felt like doing.

The Captain Matthew Jay family, one of his favorites, and other parishioners sat around the long table at the Jay home. Everything about this afternoon should’ve created joy and contentment in Isaac. He dearly loved the faithful Lodge Pole church family. Mrs. Jay’s cooking was the best for twenty miles—and Isaac had eaten at most every dinner table in the surrounding townships. He always relished the one day set aside for worship and fellowship. Yet Isaac sighed as he swathed butter atop Mrs. Jay’s honey cornbread.
Why can’t I enjoy myself?

He couldn’t shake the loneliness gnawing at him. His mind had been distracted by one thing, or rather one person, all day. He just hoped no one from Lodge Pole noticed.

The Jays came from a wealthy family back East. Isaac glanced around the house. Not only did they boast a separate kitchen—a luxury in these parts—but a large parlor, too, where both children and adults were now gathered. The air from the open window blew in, swirling the scents of the fresh-baked bread, leg of lamb, and fried potatoes. Tommy Jay, seven-year-old son of Captain Matthew Jay of the cavalry, gnawed a bite from his ear of corn. “Boy howdy, Parson,” he spouted, kernels stuck between his teeth, “that sermon went on for a coon’s age.”

Isaac, slowly emerging from his thoughts, set his fork next to the fine china plate, which he knew was reserved for visits from the parson. “I suppose it
was
a mite long.” The boy’s comment rattled his already gloomy mood, but he searched to find something agreeable to say. “You did a fine job sitting still.”

“My pa said if I didn’t embarrass him during the sermon, he’d give me a penny.” Tommy furtively peeked at his father manning the head of the table and then plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled up a bright copper piece. His smile spread. “I did pretty good considerin’ that dull sermon. I like it better when you’re all fired up.”

“Tommy.” His mother, who’d been dishing up the dessert in the kitchen, entered just in time to hear her son’s indiscreet remark. Her brunette eyebrows scrunched in warning. “Mind your manners. Parson Ike preached a fine sermon.” She smiled sympathetically, which made Isaac feel worse.

Isaac had reached Lodge Pole early that morning, pleased for the opportunity to preach the Good News. But a few hours ago as he’d stood in their parlor—with the dining table pushed to the side—expounding on the awe-inspiring symbolism of the temple garments in Exodus, he sensed the churchgoers’ lack of interest. The drooping eyelids, yawns, and even a sustained snore from Grandpa Pete had been hard to miss.

He didn’t blame them. His sermons this past week had lost their spark. He’d attempted to remedy his sagging preaching by spending hours in prayer and meditating on the Word. Yet, perhaps because every time he grabbed his Bible the beautiful new leather cover roused memories of the person whose skilled hands had sewn it—or perhaps simply because of his own unruly emotions—his mind remained preoccupied. The peace that usually cloaked him like a garment had been lost somewhere on the trail as he headed east—away from Lonesome Prairie—leaving him feeling exposed and alone.