Page 33

F rom one of the stalls in the barn, Ed pitched a forkful of manure into the wheelbarrow he’d stood in the aisle.

He’d lasted all of ten minutes in his silent cabin, haunted by memories of Rebekah and her admiring gaze fixed on him. From the corner of his eye, he caught the familiar saunter of his brother approaching. What did Isaac want?

“Fine sunset.” Isaac spoke low. He stood in front of the wheelbarrow.

Ed grunted. His brother should have stayed inside for his birthday celebration.

“You didn’t have any cake,” Isaac said.

Ed tossed the next forkful of manure at Isaac’s feet. Missed, but only by an inch.

Isaac’s eyes flashed. He grabbed a pitchfork and stepped into the next stall. “I didn’t ask for a strawberry cake.”

When Ed didn’t respond, Isaac flipped dirty straw over the stall wall. It ricocheted off Ed’s leg. Ed’s shoulders flexed as he tossed another load of manure into the wheelbarrow.

Isaac flipped more straw over the barrier. He was doing it on purpose, but Ed didn’t react.

He tried to ignore his brother completely, focus on the pull in his muscles, the task at hand.

Isaac matched every stroke, filling up the wheelbarrow in double time. “Something eatin’ at you?”

Ed gritted his teeth, felt the pinch of long-standing hurt.

With his next pitch, the fork slipped from Ed’s hand in a clumsy maneuver. All the pressure inside him exploded. He kicked at it, sending it toppling into the pile of clean hay at his feet.

Isaac stilled.

Ed turned away, unable to bear his brother’s scrutiny.

“Unless you’d like to talk about whatever is eating at you , I’d like to finish this alone.” He grated out the words, his voice rough.

There was a beat of silence.

Isaac growled, “I’m not going to talk about that.”

“Then do you mind?”

“Maybe I do mind.” Isaac stepped into the aisle, and Ed let his anger get the better of him.

He followed, his hands fisting at his sides.

Isaac eyed him. “Did it help last time?”

The bruises from their last fight had lasted for days. Ed deflated. He dusted his hat against his leg.

“Never did work to come against you,” he mumbled. He took in a deep breath, then straightened. “You were always stronger. Smarter. The conquering hero.”

Isaac scoffed. “What are you talking about?”

The utter disbelief on Isaac’s face eased a bit of the tension still tightly strung inside Ed.

Isaac let out a snort as he went back to the stall to shove his pitchfork into the straw again, slower this time. “I’m no hero.”

There was a darkness in his voice.

Isaac paused. “If you’re feeling unappreciated?—”

Ed’s turn to snort. “Try invisible.”

All those missed meals. Rebekah had been the only one who’d noticed. He pitched the next load too hard, and it overshot the wheelbarrow. Great.

“You’re not invisible to God.” Isaac didn’t stop his work. “You know what Ma always quoted from the Bible about being knitted together in our mother’s womb? How God sees us and thinks of us?”

“I know Psalm 139.” His mother’s sweet voice as she’d quoted the verses ran through Ed’s memories. Did he really know the truth of those verses in his heart?

It said he’d been wonderfully made. He was who he was supposed to be. Not his brother. The man God had made. The man God saw. How could he be invisible?

Isaac considered him. “When everyone was sick, you saved the day.”

Ed waved that off. Anyone would’ve done it.

“You kept the herd together through that terrible snowstorm two years ago. This ranch would fall apart without you. Drew knows it. We all know it.” He paused. “But maybe we don’t say it enough.”

Ed let Isaac’s words sink in deep, like a salve to his insides. His family saw him too. His throat burned. “I want to do carpentry.”

After having said it to Drew, it was somehow easier to say again.

“So do it.”

“Pa always talked about the family legacy.” Ed sighed deeply.

When Isaac had left to join the U.S. Marshals and Nick had gone to normal school to train to be a teacher, Drew and the kids had desperately needed help.

Things might be different now, but Ed wouldn’t forget that.

“Drew has worked so hard to keep this ranch together. How am I supposed to just walk away when I’m needed here? ”

Isaac scuffed his boot along the dirt floor. “If you run yourself ragged, burn yourself out, how does that help the ranch?”

Ed shook his head. He didn’t know.

They stood staring at the back of the barn, shovels stilled.

“What happened with Rebekah?”

I suppose you were laughing when you read my…proposal to Isaac.

“I messed up,” he confessed, though the words threatened to choke him. “Besides, you’re the one she really wanted. Did you even read her letters?”

Isaac shook his head. If Ed wasn’t mistaken, a hint of red was creeping up his brother’s jaw. “Can’t you fix things? She loves you.”

“What?” Ed blinked, jerking back his head in disbelief.

“Oh, let’s see now.” Isaac held up his hand, lifting one finger to count on.

“Rebekah is all smiles when you come into the room.” He ticked off another finger.

“She makes sure she sits real close to you.” Another.

“The last biscuit is saved for you by who? And what about that late-night walk? We all saw the stars in her eyes when you came back to the house.”

With each tick of his brother’s fingers listing those moments with Rebekah, a bit more hope swelled up in him. Only to crash around him.

“I lied to her. About the letters.” He crammed a hand in his pocket, suddenly feeling the cooling of the evening air.

“So keep apologizing until she forgives you.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “And if she won’t speak to me?”

“You wrote all those letters. You’ll figure out what to say.” Isaac held Ed’s gaze for a few beats. For the first time in a very long time, Ed felt like he had his brother back.

And then Isaac bent his head back to his work.

His brother was right. He’d only be failing if he didn’t try.

Whether Rebekah wanted to listen or not, he had to find a way.

* * *

Rebekah ambled down the boardwalk with Merritt, heading back to the boardinghouse on the way back from the bank. It’d been nearly a week since Rebekah had seen Ed. Danna still hadn’t found the bandit, and Rebekah’s anxiousness about that fact had grown the longer he remained a free man.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to get the loan.” Merritt looped her arm in Rebekah’s as her shoulders drooped.

Rebekah swallowed the bitter disappointment.

“Some men can be so old-fashioned,” she muttered.

With Mr. Sullivan having fled town, she’d hoped to secure a loan for a new printing press and the rent for the newspaper office.

As a single woman with no collateral, she had been refused, the banker shooting down any hope she’d had this morning.

Yesterday, she’d wired her aunt and uncle about losing her job. Now she couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts in order. She realized her friend was speaking of one of her former students only when Merritt stopped talking.

Rebekah smiled wryly. “I’m sorry for my distraction. I’m worried about Uncle Vess’s ranch.”

“Are things really so dire?” Merritt asked.

Rebekah suspected they were, though she’d wait for a return wire before she knew for certain.

“Will you really have to leave us?” The genuine compassion in Merritt’s question tugged at Rebekah’s heart.

“I don’t see how I can stay.” A heaviness settled in her chest.

They passed by the bakery, where Rebekah could see Mrs. Wilson bustling about inside. Had Ed pursued the estimate? In her distraction and the upset emotions of the past days, no one had told her and she hadn’t asked.

She missed him.

Merritt nudged her arm. “I’m worried about you. You aren’t acting like yourself.”

“Sorry,” she said again.

Her anguish tightened inside her as they neared the newspaper office. The brown paper covering the broken window made her want to cry all over again, as did the Closed sign hanging on the door.

Merritt stood silent beside her.

Whoever had destroyed her beloved paper was still out there.

All of a sudden, she couldn’t hold back the torrent of words inside her.

“I’ve tried too hard to keep things perfect—just the way they should be—ever since that ad arrived. And I’ve only managed to make everything worse.”

Merritt let her stew in her thoughts for a long moment—or maybe she was thinking of what to say.

She began slowly. “I’ve been where you are. I tried to hold on so tightly to my idea of right…but God had a better plan for me. He brought me Jack. I had to let go of my idea of how things should be.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Rebekah admitted.

“Have you tried? Given over your will and asked for what God wants for you?”

She hadn’t. From the beginning, she’d only gone after what she thought was best. She hadn’t even seen Ed, hadn’t considered him a friend or a suitor until they’d been forced together by circumstances she certainly wouldn’t have chosen.

“If I let go of how I had my life planned, I’m afraid. Afraid of whether I’ll like how things go,” Rebekah confessed.

Merritt was sympathetic. She’d been Rebekah’s friend for a long time. She knew why Rebekah had come west, all of it. “What if God has other blessings in store for you?”

What if…

Rebekah had never considered it before. New tears filled her eyes as she stared at the brown paper blocking the windows. Surely God wouldn’t ask her to leave the newspaper. Leave Uncle Vess and Aunt Opal.

She didn’t know if she was strong enough for that.

“You can trust Him with your plans,” Merritt said. “He is a good God.”

The words settled inside Rebekah. Merritt was right. God was ultimately in control. All Rebekah’s striving had gotten her nowhere. It felt frightening, but right, to give control to the One who had created all things.

She knew it. She’d known it since childhood. But a new acceptance settled over her.

“I know you’ve been in love with Isaac for a long time?—”

“I’ve never been in love with Isaac.” Rebekah read the shock on Merritt’s face. “Anything I ever felt for Isaac pales in comparison to my feelings for Ed.”

“Ed?” Merritt’s surprise was obvious.

Rebekah had been too ashamed of having written under a pretense and hidden the other letters to tell Merritt what had really happened. Now everything was a mess.

“What if things can’t be patched up?”

Rebekah turned her head from her friend’s stare, unable to bear Merritt’s scrutiny in this moment.

Fingering that place where the paper had been torn on the newspaper windows, she could not resist the urge to have one last look.

Rebekah bent her knees until level with the peeled back bit of brown paper.

She peered through the torn-out hole to take in the inside of the newspaper office.

The empty shell of what had once been her whole life.

She scanned the office, but, no?—

Someone had been inside. There were tracks through the mess.

Ignoring Merritt, she lowered herself once more. This time she let her eyes slow to take in every detail. Amidst the mess, an area had been cleared out where someone had been working to repair the frame for the press. Her pulse pounded in her ears as tears threatened.

Rebekah jerked upright again, then started for the door.

“Wait.” Merritt pulled at her sleeve, but Rebekah shook her off.

“Please be open.” She whispered the words as she wiggled the knob just so. A trick she’d seen Mr. Sullivan use occasionally when the lock jammed, appearing locked when it wasn’t. A quick click and the door opened.

Merritt was close behind her.

With hurried steps, Rebekah moved to the frame. The frame for the printing press had been disassembled. The pieces lay in neat rows. There was a pile of new wood and tools organized on a table nearby. Even the metal letters had been swept up and placed in a bucket.

In the midst of the sawdust were footprints. She placed her foot inside one as her heart leaped. Silly, but some part of her knew, just knew, she was standing in the spot where Ed had been. It had to be him. Who else had the skills to repair the frame to the press?

A new hope sprang up inside her, washed over her with a renewed longing.

A letter sat atop the frame, propped there with her name on the front.

The familiar scrawl warmed her as she reached out a trembling hand to pick it up.

Merritt’s footsteps tapped across the floor as she drew closer, but Rebekah didn’t care.

Heart pounding, she tore open the envelope, then pulled out the letter.

Her eyes drank in the familiar handwriting.

Dear Rebekah,

I write this letter to ask you to forgive me. These days without you near have been the loneliest ever. I never knew how much our friendship meant until it wasn’t there. I never knew how much you meant to me until you weren’t there.

I never should have written to you under a false pretense. Once I realized the letter writer was you, I had already fallen so in love with you I didn’t dare risk losing you. Please tell me I haven’t lost you now.

If you find this letter before I’m done fixing the frame, know that I’ll be back to finish what I started. Your printing press will run again. One way or another.

As always,

Your Wyoming Rancher

Ed McGraw

“Who is it from? Ed?”

She nodded, fearing to speak. If she did, her emotions might burst out. Every nerve tingled. She ran her hand along the wood. As she rushed to the door, she tucked the envelope in her skirt.

“I have to go.”

“Wait.” Merritt trailed behind her. “Danna thinks it’s still dangerous.”

Hesitation warred with determination. Rebekah couldn’t wait.

“I have to go to Ed.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”