Page 109 of Love’s Silver Bullet

Libby’s eyes flooded with tears as she squeezed Sheridan’s hand. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.’ A ‘future and a hope,’ Sheridan,” she stressed with a shake of Sheridan’s hand, “which is what he gave me with Finn despite my obstinance—”

“And me with Blaze, too, despite his!” Maggie’s eyes lit with excitement, shining with tears of faith.

“And I have no doubt whatsoever that he wants to give that to Jake as well.” She reached to caress Sheridan’s face with a gentle hand, her gaze as flooded with faith as Maggie’s. “And to you, too, my darling niece.”

Sheridan’s heart began to thud wildly in her chest, the idea that God had a hope and future for Jake, peace instead of evil, quickening her own faith as well. Moisture stung beneath her lids out of pure joy rather than grief when Scriptures suddenly flooded her mind as quickly as saltwater flooded her eyes.

But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds, declares the Lord.

Surely there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off.

For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth.

“From my youth,” she whispered, closing her eyes to see a little towheaded child on her knees every single night, praying for a boy whose heart was connected to hers.

Through his own tragic youth.

Paving a way for a ‘future and a hope.’

Lashes popping up, Sheridan clasped both Maggie and Aunt Libby’s hands, peace purling through her along with a rush of hope. “Oh, Aunt Libby, you’re right—I can’t allow Jake to live with the horror of his past any longer, not when God can give him a future and a hope”—a giggle slipped from her lips as she splayed a palm to her chest—“with me!”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Tap. Tap. It was a tossup as to what was jumping more as Sheridan knocked on Uncle Finn’s office door after dinner—her nerves or her heart.

Aunt Libby and Maggie had convinced her that since Uncle Finn was one of the biggest—and one of the first—obstacles that had kept Jake away from Sheridan all these years, it was only fair he’d provide the solution.

“I’ve told that man all along that as a grown woman, you should have the right to choose whom you will marry, but would he listen?” She’d issued one of the frequent grunts that always accompanied any argument about women’s rights, locking her arms across her chest as she sat on Sheridan’s bed.

While Aunt Libby had expounded on the controlling stubbornness of men in a rather taut voice, Sheridan had peeked up from picking her nails. “I suppose he was just trying to protect me,” she said softly, “and honor my mother’s request.”

Maggie huffed. “But to coerce your brothers and Jake into spying and plotting against you—his own flesh and blood!—for the sheer purpose of manipulation and control?” A shiver shimmied Maggie’s shoulders as she got into the fray with a pretty hefty grunt of her own. “It was sinister and sneaky and flat-out wrong, Sheridan, and I think Libby is right. Finn needs to fix this, and you need to tell him so.”

“Tonight!” Aunt Libby had underscored with a firm dip of her head, gaze as pointed as her tone. “After dinner.”

Gulp. Sheridan had never stood up to Uncle Finn before because she loved and respected him too much and always figured he knew what was best for her. But despite the skitters in her stomach when both Aunt Libby and Maggie had first broached the idea, Sheridan knew in her heart this was the right thing to do.

For her. For Jake. And for their family.

So Aunt Libby had laid out the plan, and Maggie had led them in prayer up in her room before her welcome-home dinner, which had had enough laughter and love to help ease her nerves.

Till now.

Raising her sweaty fist again, she knocked a second time, harder than before.

Knock. Knock.

“Come in.” Her Uncle Finn’s tone sounded gruff, hardly easing her fears. Finn McShane was one of the kindest, godliest men she knew, but as the mayor of Virginia City, he’d been under more stress ever since his marshal was murdered almost six months ago, and you could hear it in his clipped tone, as if he were too busy to talk. She’d seen it in the fatigue of his face at dinner, too, even though Jake had seamlessly slipped into the role of marshal. Sheridan swallowed hard. Probably another reason for his strain—and Sheridan’s—since there’d been an uptick in disturbances in town lately.

Gingerly turning the knob, Sheridan peeked into the office where her uncle was working at a desk piled high with papers, his usually neat tie loosened and spectacles perched low on his nose. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said with a shy smile, even though she knew that she was. But true to his nature, her uncle immediately tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair with a tired smile, ready to give her his all.

Now, if only he could …

“You are never an interruption, Sheridan Marie, and you need to always remember that. You and your happiness and that of this family is my primary concern.”

“That’s what I’m counting on, Uncle Finn.”

He immediately sat up with a wedge in his brow. “Why? Is there a problem, sweetheart?”