“I feel like I let them down, everyone. I wasn't here for you and William, and I didn't do enough for them. I should have waited until I knew they were safe.”
“What more could you have done?”
Adam's mind returned to the woman at the immigration office. “The clerk at immigration hated Elisa. I could see it. She might have sent them back. What if she did?” He shook his head. “I should have stayed, but all I could think about was getting home.”
“You did your best. Elisa and Adin are not your responsibility. They were part of your life for a time. They're in God's hands. It's his will that will be done.” She paused. “The last time I checked, you weren't him.”
Her words hit Adam hard. He'd been overestimating his own importance, trusting God less, himself more. Plus, he hadn't been Elisa and Adin's savior; they'd been his.
“Adam, don't shortchange God. He's more powerful than you or me or anyone on the earth…or in heaven. He knows exactly the right thing to do. And even if that woman didn't like Elisa and Adin, she still had to follow the law. You said she was a clerk. It's not up to her to decide where they were sent.”
She leaned against Adam's shoulder. “You've done nothing wrong… except not writing the story. That's what God asked you to do.” She took his face in her hands. “He didn't ask you to fight in a war. He asked you to tell others about it. And I think it's time you did.”
Adam felt a release of tension. Laurel was right. He had to trust that Elisa and Adin were exactly where God wanted them. And he needed to do what God had asked of him—to write. He'd forgotten.
“All right. I'll start tomorrow. I do have a lot to say. And I have photographs people ought to see.”
Chapter 29
LUKE KNEELED IN THE SNOW AND SKINNED OUT A MINK. HOWEVER, HIS MIND wasn't on that mink; it was on Mattie. She'd still been sleeping when he'd left that morning, and he remembered how her hair had spread out over her pillow in black ribbons. He couldn't keep from caressing it, nor could he resist kissing her soft, gentle smile. They'd been married two months, but he'd still hadn't gotten over the flush of newness.
His mind returned to the previous evening. Again Mattie had tried to convince him to let go of his resentment and patch things up with Ray. It was something he knew he had to do eventually, but not yet. He wasn't ready.
He had to admit that Ray had been more than fair to him and had reached out in many ways. Luke was the one who had refused to change course; and no matter how deep he looked, Luke just couldn't forgive Ray. He understood that God had called his children to show mercy; he just couldn't seem to dredge up any. Is it right to pretend to forgive? he asked himself. Isn't that just as faithless as hating someone? What if his heart never changed?
He plunged his knife into the snow to clean it, then wiped it on his pants leg and pushed it into a sheath hooked to his belt. He sighed. It was time to mend the rift no matter how distasteful it felt.
He smoothed the snow and repositioned the trap. Opening the jaws, he reset the spring and baited it with a piece of rotted salmon, then carefully scattered snow over the trap and line. “That ought to do it.” He stood.
Lifting the pelt, Luke ran a hand over the thick brown fur. “If the cold weather holds, I ought to do well at the winter carnival.” He added the skin to the others already hanging from his belt. It had been a good season, but he still wouldn't have enough money to get himself and Mattie into their own place. Jobs had been scarce. It would be a long while before he'd be able to get a farm up and running.
Securing his snowshoes, he moved on toward the next trap. When I'm finished, I'll go and see Ray, he told himself. Luke pictured the meeting and tried to think of what he should say. He took a deep breath, the cold searing his lungs. The idea of capitulating to Ray made him cringe. If only he could find another way. Maybe if he were simply more courteous, change would evolve. It might, he thought, but he knew that even if it did no real healing would take place. They needed to talk, and he needed to forgive.
Through the years hurts had come his way, and he'd been able to let go of them. He was capable of forgiving, but this one had taken root and festered. He just couldn't seem to shake it.
Just having peace in the family is enough. Maybe I don't actually have to forgive. The idea had barely been traced in his mind when the spirit of God made it clear he wanted more. He wanted love. “I can't do that yet.” He stopped walking, and clenching one hand in the other, said, “Father, you'll have to make me willing then. Even if it's just to make me willing to be made willing.”
He gazed at the snow-encrusted world and thought of his father. They'd checked traplines together many times. When he was out here, he always felt his father's presence. But it wasn't the same. Maybe one day I'll have a son who'll join me. He liked the idea and hoped it wouldn't be long before he and Mattie could start a family.
She was home now, sewing and cooking and waiting for him. When he returned home, he knew she would greet him with a kiss and kind words. The tiny house would be warm, the aroma of dinner in the air. He hurried his steps, wanting to return to that safe haven. Maybe he wouldn't see Ray today. “No. I've got to go.” He continued on to the next trap, following a path through the forest.
A dreary ceiling of clouds lay over the valley, and daylight looked more like dusk, making the forest seem dreary. Naked trees stood like ice-encrusted skeletons. The evergreens were more picturesque, with white pillows cradled in their boughs.
Luke kept moving, frozen snow squeaking beneath the slats of his snowshoes. His mind continued to puzzle over what to say to Ray. I'm sorry. No. That's not right. I'm not sorry, exactly. Luke didn't believe he'd actually done anything wrong. He'd caused his mother heartache, but if Ray hadn't done what he did, he wouldn't have had anything to get angry about. He'd accused Ray of some awful things. Did he still believe what he'd said?
Luke thought back over the events that led to his father's death—the taunts and trickery of Ray Townsend; the loss of crop sales instigated by Ray Townsend; outright threats made by Ray Townsend; and finally, the bear hunt and his father's death. Ray had been behind it all, and more. His father was dead because of Ray. Luke felt the flame of hurt and hatred flare.
His mind moved to his father. He'd chosen to stand and protect Ray. No one forced him. That's how he was, Luke thought with a mixture of pride and sorrow. He always thought of other people. I wish he hadn't on that day.
He forced his mind back to the problem. What could he say to Ray that would mend their relationship? That he wanted to start over? He didn't. Or that he thought Ray was a good man and deserved to be treated with respect? Luke wasn't convinced of that. He had to admit that Ray was different than he'd been when the colonists had first come to the valley, but whether or not he was a good man remained to be seen. Luke was still not certain Ray wasn't using his mother and others to serve his own purposes, and he continued to be suspcious of Ray's motivation for the help he offered after his father's death. It had gained him a wife and a farm.
Luke had thought and thought but was no closer to knowing what to do. He still wasn't sure he ought to say anything. The only real motivation he had to put things right was that the trouble between himself and Ray Townsend hurt his mother. Every time the family gathered, the strain between the two affected everyone. Now Mattie insisted he do something. But what?
Luke stopped. A bull moose stood in the path. It yanked a frozen branch from a tree and munched, then swung its huge head around and stared balefully at the intruder. Luke knew a cranky moose could be dangerous. He stopped and studied the animal. He hated to go around it. That meant tromping through deep snow, which, of course, was why the moose was in the middle of the trail. He didn't want to contend with the snow anymore than Luke did.
Still chewing, the bull leveled a distrustful gaze at Luke. A piece of the branch fell to the ground. The animal continued to stare. He lowered his head and blasted air out of his nostrils.
“Oh, brother. He's going to be stubborn,” Luke said.
Now what? These animals hated to give ground and they were bigger than anything else using the trails this time of year. Luke would have to go around unless he wanted a confrontation. He studied him a moment longer and finally decided to give bullying a try. Maybe he could scare him off. He raised his arms over his head and waved, shouting, “Hah. Go on! Get on out of here!”
Instead of retreating, the moose moved toward Luke. After a few steps he stopped.
Luke moved back. “Well, that didn't work.” Time to go around. He tromped through drifted snow, giving little attention to the animal.
Then he heard a grunt and the sound of heavy footfalls. Turning, he saw the moose heading straight at him. Snowshoes feeling like clumsy weights, he tromped toward a nearby spruce and glanced over his shoulder. The moose was still coming. Adrenaline shot through him. He was charging! Only a few steps more to the tree. The snowshoes felt like shackles.
Luke could hear the animal's breath and the crunch of snow. It was close. He grabbed for the lowest branch and missed. He had no time left. He'd have to duck behind the tree, but he wasn't fast enough. The bull dropped a heavy hoof on one snowshoe. Luke pitched forward, wrenching his foot free. He fell face first into the snow, then quickly rolled to his back. The beast had momentarily lost interest in Luke and took out his anger on the snowshoe, stomping it into pieces.
Just as the bull refocused and charged, Luke pushed to his feet. He fumbled for his handgun and fired twice, hitting the crazed animal in the chest. The moose stumbled forward and dropped. He was so close that Luke could have touched him. Crimson, steaming blood stained the forest's white floor.
Luke kept his gun on the bull and stepped toward it, but there was no need for caution. The animal was dead. Luke reholstered the firearm. “That'll be one to tell the grandkids.”
He brushed snow from a log and sat staring at the animal. It was a big bull and would feed him and Mattie and her family for weeks. Blessings come unexpectedly, he thought, already formulating the story he'd tell his family.
He pushed to his feet. He had no time to waste. It would be dark soon. “I'll have to dress him out, then go back for the sled and haul him home,” he said, pulling his knife out of its sheath. He bent over the animal and cut the jugular to bleed him out. After that, he removed the scent glands and proceeded to gut him.
With the beast skinned, gutted, and quartered, Luke stood. His arms and hands were bloodstained. With the back of one hand he brushed sweat from his forehead, leaving a smear of blood. Then he washed his hands in the snow.
