Page 45 of Heart on the Line

The words of Jesus slammed into her heart and shattered her arguments. Helen grabbed her middle and doubled over, though not because of the cramp in her side. This pain went deeper, to the pit of her soul. She was the whosoever trying to save her own life, which meant she was destined to lose it. Unless she found a way to deny herself. Give up control and fully surrender her will to that of her Savior. If she truly wanted to follow him, she had to be willing to go wherever he led. Even through the valley of the shadow of death.

She’d always thought that meant her death. But what if it meant the death of another? One she cared about? Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t shed tears since the day her pa had drowned her puppy. She hadn’t even allowed herself to cry when her mother died. Tears equaled weakness. Yet it wasn’t weakness that brought the moisture to her eyes as she stood in the middle of the farmhouse road. It was contrition. By refusing to deny herself, she had denied her Lord. Throwing ultimatums in his face as if she had the right.

Fail to heal Lee, and I won’t love you anymore, she’d threatened. I’ll turn my back on you. Call you unjust, a betrayer. Was her love for him so shallow that she’d turn her back like a petulant child if she didn’t get her way?

The first tear rolled down her cheek, followed by a second and a third, until a stream flowed. Helen tightened her grip on her midsection and rocked slightly as she released the last vestiges of her control. “O, God, you are good,” she said softly, her voice cracking as her throat grew thick. “Your love is perfect. Your ways are perfect. You are worthy of my trust. No matter what comes. You are able to save Lee from death, but even if you do not, I will still follow you. I will still love you. Because you are not cruel or unjust or petty. You are holy and righteous and full of compassion. You are God, able to see not only into the past but into the future, and I trust you to know what is best.”

The tears continued to fall, and Helen made no move to wipe them away. She needed the cleansing, needed to let go, needed to let the Shepherd lead.

A soft whinny echoed in her ears.

Her head jerked up and a smile stretched her mouth wide. O, Lord. You are good.

For there, not a hundred yards away from her, stood the very thing she’d sought when she’d bolted from church. A chestnut gelding. Saddle. No rider.

Lee’s horse.

She laughed. A tear-clogged, croak of a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. One that felt so free, she did it again. She’d thought she’d felt true freedom on the day her father died, but she’d only lost her jailor, not her chains. Today she was truly free.

Unwrapping her arms from about her middle, Helen straightened and smiled again. She felt lighter, buoyant almost, and so full of hope that she thought her heart might burst.

She still didn’t know Lee’s fate, but the Lord had sent her his horse, so she’d be thankful for that blessing and leave the rest in the Almighty’s hands.

After pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and cleaning up the mess she’d made of her face, Helen approached the horse. She moved slowly but confidently, speaking to the animal in low tones.

“Hey, boy.” She held her palm open in front of her as her skirts rustled the tall grass near the shallow creek that must have drawn the animal to this particular spot. The big horse blinked at her and swished his tail but showed no signs of fear. “Looking for Lee? I’m helping him. I’d like to help you, too. I could get you out of that saddle if you hold still for a few minutes. What do you say?”

As she neared the horse, she could see the scrapes where the chestnut had tried to free himself from his tack with no success. Helen recalled sleeping in her clothes several days in a row when traveling and the sore places she’d developed from her corset pressing into her skin with no relief. How much worse must a saddle be? So heavy and unwieldly.

She moved within reach. The chestnut snorted and sidestepped. “Easy, boy.” She offered him her hand to smell, and when he calmed a bit, she reached up to stroke his cheek. She continued petting him and murmuring praise, moving along his neck and over his shoulder until she reached the cinch strap. Acting as if they were in a confined barn stall instead of out on the wide-open prairie where the horse could spook and run for days, Helen lifted the stirrup and hooked it over the saddle horn to get it out of the way. Then she tugged on the cinch strap. The chestnut blew out a breath, as if eager to assist. The fastening loosened, and the girth fell free. Quickly, Helen tied up the extra strap length and, keeping a hand on the horse’s body, made her way behind him to the other side. He was a little too tall for her, but she managed to drag the saddle and pad off without tumbling onto her rear.

The chestnut bolted the moment he was free of his burden. Helen made no move to stop him, just grinned at his exuberance. As he scampered off, she turned her attention to the tack at her feet. Lee’s saddlebag hung from the side of the cantle, still affixed. She hunkered down in the grass and unbuckled the leather pouch. Inside were a fresh shirt and a small book—the Bible he’d asked her to take to his sister. A brown ribbon marked a passage near the end.

Helen pulled upward on the ribbon until the Bible opened, and immediately her eyes were drawn to the underlined verse in the middle of the left page. The first verse of Galatians 5.

“‘Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.’” Helen turned her face to the sky. “I will,” she vowed.

Never again would she allow her fear of being hurt to shackle her.

23

Here’s my supply list for the week.” Tori Adams handed Grace a half-sheet of paper. Grace scanned the items, thankful for the shopkeeper’s tidy script. She never had trouble deciphering Tori’s handwriting.

Emma, on the other hand, was the worst. The banker’s numbers always stood out clear and precise—no one could accuse Emma Shaw of being careless with her figures—but her rushed penmanship often required mental contortions to untangle.

Emma had brought her Monday financial report by that morning for Grace to wire to the broker in New York, and Grace still hadn’t finished translating the document into a legible message. Thankfully, she’d been working with Emma long enough to recognize most of her scrawl patterns, but she still preferred to copy the information onto a clean telegraph blank before sending the contents over the wire. It was much easier to decode Emma’s scribbles beforehand than trying to translate mid-transmission.

Grace glanced up from Tori’s list and raised a brow. “Only five items? That’s a short list for you. Has your delivery business dropped off?”

Tori shook her head. “No. In fact, Mr. Porter and I added two new clients last week.” The smile that accompanied her words was small, as usual from the stoic shopkeeper, but satisfaction gleamed in her blue eyes. “I gave the rest of my list to Ben when he visited on Saturday. Knowing that shipment of bicycles would be arriving today, I asked him to load up with staples as well. Flour, sugar, coffee, cornmeal, lard. Those kinds of things. No sense making a trip with a half-empty freight wagon.”

Grace quirked her lips as she returned to her desk, opened the telegraph circuit, and started tapping out the message that would be delivered to Tori’s supplier in Gainesville. “Something tells me an empty wagon wouldn’t stop Mr. Porter from making a trip out to see you.”

The freighter appeared in town at least three times a week these days. Tori blamed the extra visits on their delivery business, but everyone in town knew she and Benjamin Porter were courting. After each delivery run, Tori cooked dinner for the freighter, and the two were often spotted sitting together on the bench outside the shop in the evenings, sipping coffee and talking until the sun set. How Mr. Porter managed to find his way home in the fading light of dusk was a mystery that kept the gossip mills grinding. Some ladies presumed those giant horses of his could see in the dark. Others believed he set up camp somewhere along the road to pass the night then rose at dawn to finish the journey. Everyone agreed that he’d do anything necessary to spend time with Tori. The man was besotted. And judging by the faint pink coloring Tori’s cheeks, he wasn’t the only one.

“Yes, well . . .” Tori fiddled with her reticule strings. “Lewis enjoys spending time with him. Ben is helping him train Hercules.”

Grace finished sending the message, confirmed the content, then signed off. She moved back to the counter and collected the coins Tori had set out for her. “I’m sure he enjoys helping Lewis with his puppy, but he comes for you, Tori. Everyone knows that.”