“Sorry.” She placed the end of the tape where it needed to be, but Blue didn’t pull his end taut.
She wouldn’t lift her face to see what caused his delay.
“Clara, I don’t know why you let what the girls said bother you. You and I both know you are only here until your plans—whatever they are—materialize.”
She sighed softly. “But they prayed. How can I fail them?”
“Seems to me they prayed to God. Doesn’t that make it His responsibility to answer as He sees fit? Not yours?”
She jerked her gaze to his. He considered her with steady gray eyes, silently challenging her.
“Why, Blue, I do believe you have given me a one-minute sermon.” She grinned. “A very timely one, too.”
He lifted one shoulder in a self-mocking gesture. “Just saying it how I see it.”
He was right. God would have to answer the girls’ prayers. But she’d remind them they weren’t staying in Edendale and that Christmas this year would not be like their previous ones.
She did so later when they were in their little shack and the girls were ready for bed.
The girls just exchanged secretive looks when she mentioned Christmas, but when she reminded them they weren’t staying here, they faced her with demanding eyes.
“But, Mama.” Eleanor wasn’t the one who usually challenged Clara. “How do you know this isn’t where God wants us to be?”
“I just know.”
“We have to cross the Red Sea yet,” Libby said.
Clara shook her head. Her seven-year-old came up with some strange conceptions. “We won’t cross the Red Sea.”
“Oh. Then what? We gots to see God part the waters.”
“We need God to provide a stagecoach and some fast horses,” Clara corrected her child.
Both girls assumed stubborn looks.
“I don’t want to leave.” Eleanor scooted into her bedding and turned her back to Clara.
“You always knew we weren’t staying here.”
“Why not?” Libby demanded. “Isn’t it a nice place?”
“It is.” But it didn’t feel far enough away from Father. Eight days of hard riding would bring him or some hireling of his from Fort Macleod. Eight days was not far enough. Ten days likely wasn’t, either. Maybe she’d continue moving north.
But she didn’t want to keep running. She wanted to make a home for herself and the girls. A safe home. She added her prayers to those of the girls. God, lead us to a safe place, and, please, could You make it in time for Christmas so the girls won’t be disappointed? She dared not ask for anything more though she longed for Eleanor and Libby to have a memorable Christmas.
Chapter Seven
Blue wandered about the darkened church interior. The day had been an emotional quagmire.
He rubbed a spot in the middle of his chest. Little Miss Libby liked him holding her, did she? And Eleanor wanted to stay here.
They were just the silly wishes of innocent children, he reminded himself. The Westons would leave. Everyone knew it. Everyone expected it. And they would disappear from his memory as if they had never entered his life.
Unlike his own family whom he had expected to be permanent.
He rubbed his breastbone trying to ease the pain centered there. He’d told Clara about Alice and the children. Something he’d vowed he’d never bring up in his thoughts, let alone in conversation.
She’d questioned him. But he didn’t have to answer her questions. So why had he? He couldn’t say. Any more than he could say if he appreciated or resented having told her.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil for Thou art with me. Thy rod and staff, they comfort me.
He hadn’t given the words any thought since the funeral service when he’d bitterly dismissed them.
What did he fear? That was easy—the memories and the pain.
Was God with him even though he didn’t feel Him? Sort of like Blue had been with Beau when he learned to walk.
Fiercely independent, the boy would accept no help, so Blue hovered at his back, holding to his shirt so he wouldn’t fall facedown on the rough ground.
Because Beau couldn’t see Blue he thought he managed on his own.