California Romance (39 page)

In a twinkling, Seth raced alongside the flume and dug his boot heels into the needle-covered ground.

“God, give him strength!” Dori cried.

From his precarious position on the bank above the flume, Seth stretched out a long arm. Stancel caught Seth’s wrist in a death grip and leaped to safety—but his sudden movement threw Seth off balance and into the hog trough. Before he could right himself, the boat hit an obstruction. Splinters flew. The impact hurled Seth into the flume, ten feet ahead of the boat.

“Oh Lord, forgive me.” Sobbing and crying out to God to save Seth from the results of her willfulness, Dori staggered down the incline, clutching at branches and small trees. Realization hit like an avalanche: If Seth died, life would cease to have meaning for her. Her boots slipped on the needle-covered ground. She wildly tried to save herself—and failed.

The next instant, Matt’s powerful grip bit into her shoulder. She stumbled and fell to her knees, hitting one on a rock. Scarcely aware of the pain, Dori’s gaze riveted on the flume where Seth was fighting for his life.
Please
,
God, don’t let Seth die. I am so sorry. Save him and I promise…
She could not continue.

“Stay where you are,” Matt ordered before sprinting after Seth, who had been unable to launch himself back into the hog trough. Dori strained her eyes to follow Seth’s progress. Her heart beat with joy when she saw that, several yards ahead, the flume leveled out slightly. The clutching water wasn’t quite so swift. Matt’s giant strides had taken him parallel with the boat. With a mighty bound, he managed to hurl himself into the hog trough.

A split second later, fresh horror stopped Dori’s breathing. Just ahead, the flume took a sharp, downward turn. Seth’s only hope was to get back into the boat before it reached that point, but he obviously was fighting a losing battle. Would the two men Dori loved more than life itself perish because of her petty desire for revenge?

When Seth hit the icy flow he knew that every ounce of stamina built up by hard work and clean living couldn’t save him unless he got into the hog trough. No one could survive the battering he was receiving from the rushing water, but his attempts to reach the boat were futile.

“God, unless You intervene, I’m a goner,” he cried through chattering teeth, but his words were lost in the churning water. Then a Bible promise learned in childhood brought hope to his weary mind.
“When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.”

With a final burst of energy Seth grabbed the sides of the flume in a death hold, hoping he could hang on long enough for the boat to reach him. A strange calm settled over him, a sense that he was not alone. He clutched the sides of the flume. The hog trough was almost within reach, but the greedy current was too strong. Fingers numb with cold, his grip loosened. He flung his arms forward in a last attempt—and missed. This, then, was the end.
Please, God, take care of Sarah. And Dori
.

A heartbeat later, strong hands clamped on Seth’s wrists like bands of iron and yanked him into the hog trough. Yet the danger was not past. Above the ever-increasing roar of untamed water, Matt bellowed in Seth’s ear, “Hang on and pray.”

In the twinkling of an eye, the two men in their splintered boat plunged headlong into the ever-increasing torrent.

Heartsick and trembling, Dori watched the men vanish around the bend. The sound of weeping told her she was not alone. Sarah and Katie, white-faced and clinging to one another, had reached her. Curly tore past, slipping and sliding in his downward rush beside the flume.

Sarah’s fingers bit into Dori’s arm. “What’s happening?” she cried.

“I don’t know.” Dori licked her parched lips. “All we can do is wait. Curly will come back and…” She couldn’t continue.

“I can’t bear to wait.” Sarah cried. She dropped to the ground and covered her face with her hands. “We have to do something to help.”

Katie knelt beside Sarah and gathered her in her arms. “I’m for thinking the best way we can help is to pray, then decide what we should do.”

“Do?” Dori asked, too numb to understand.

The Irish colleen nodded. “For sure. Should we wait here, hoping Matt and Seth will escape harm and return? Start back to the ranch?” She shook her head. “We’ll know better when Curly returns. Now, let’s pray.”

Dori caught the black look Katie sent toward the bedraggled man who had silently joined them. “Mr. Worthington, if you don’t care to pray, then begone with you.”

Stancel stared for a moment, then stumbled a short distance away and sat down under a tree, leaving the three women to petition heaven on behalf of Matt and Seth.

Pain washed through Dori.
Surely they will manage to get out of the flume and come back
, her heart insisted.
Although this escapade has probably killed any chance of Seth’s ever caring for me
. She pushed the thought aside. Now was no time to think of herself. Dori also tried to banish visions of the splintered hog boat and rushing water, but to no avail. As Katie said, all they could do was to wait.

Several hours later, Curly returned with a battered and bruised Seth Anderson, both riding unfamiliar horses. “The boss is down below with a wrenched ankle. He’s gonna be fine, but it hurts too much for him to ride,” Curly reported. “The man who lent us these horses is taking Matt to Madera so Doc Brown can give him a once-over.”

“Thank God!” Sarah threw herself into her brother’s arms, tears streaming.

Dori swallowed the lump of relief that sprang to her throat and turned away to hide her desire to hug Seth like Sarah was doing. Stancel’s voice stopped her in her tracks. He looked more than ever like a scarecrow in his torn clothes when he shuffled over to Seth and held out an earth-stained paw.

“Much obliged, old chap. Ripping of you to lend a hand. Puts me in your debt, and all that.” He cleared his throat. “I was a bit distracted there for a bit, but I could have extricated myself shortly. Of course, you couldn’t know.” He shrugged.

Dori wanted to hit the obtuse man. Instead, she fixed her gaze on Seth. A white line formed around his lips. He ignored Stancel’s outstretched hand, clenched his fists, and stuck his face close to the braggart’s. Then he let loose with both barrels.

“You just don’t savvy, do you, Worthington? You deserve the licking of your life. I’d love to give it to you, but I am not going to do it. If you don’t start using whatever brains God gave you, there’s a lot worse ahead for you.” Seth paused. “You think you could have saved your own worthless hide? Never on this green earth. You’re right about one thing. You’re in my debt. But you owe a far greater debt to Someone else.”

A poignant light crept into Seth’s eyes, a light that made Dori feel more ashamed than she had ever been in all her years of careless living.

“I risked my life to save yours, Mr. Stancel Worthington III. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, did a lot more than that. He died on a cross to save your soul. If you’re any kind of man, you’d best get your nose out of the air and start admitting who’s really in control. Otherwise, you’re no better than the braying donkeys on the Diamond S.”

Dori wanted to applaud, but Curly had the last word.

“A-men,” he drawled. He clapped Stancel on the shoulder so hard the Englishman staggered. “Cheer up, old chap. If the good Lord could save a miserable cowboy sinner like me—which He did—then I reckon He can save an ornery critter like you.” Curly freed his hand and scratched his head. “I’ll tell the world, though, it’s gonna take some doin’, even for Somebody as big as God.”

S
tancel Worthington III was strangely silent on the long trip home. He kept to himself for much of the way, riding apart from the others in the party and only speaking when spoken to. For the first time in Dori’s acquaintance, she saw uncertainty in his eyes. Had what she privately called “Seth’s Sugar Pine Sermon” pricked Stancel’s vanity and begun to make a difference in his life? She fervently hoped so.

“How could it not make a difference?” Dori asked herself a dozen times while riding through the forests and back down to the Diamond S. “If I live to be an old woman, I’ll never forget Seth’s blazing face and the words that poured out of him.” A boulder-sized lump of regret rose to her throat.

“Lord, Stancel is guilty of not believing in You. I’ve been guilty of taking Your Son’s sacrifice lightly, even though I knew better. In Your eyes, I must be guiltier than Stancel, the scoffer.”

The voice of truth that had so often risen to condemn her and been drowned out by her refusal to heed it would not be silenced.

You’ve flitted through life seeking pleasure like a butterfly searching for nectar
.
Matt and Solita’s attempts to rein you in have been in vain. You’ve been sullen and angry with Matt without just cause. You’ve whined and complained and done everything but stomp your feet because your brother is making you finish your schooling: a far lighter punishment than you deserve for your behavior at Brookside
.

Dori squirmed. The indignity of being made to do lessons like an unruly child still rankled. “Young ladies shouldn’t be forced to study if they don’t want to,” she sputtered in self-defense.

The voice continued.
Young lady? Sarah and Katie and Abby are young ladies
.
You’re nothing but a spoiled child who is determined to have her own way, no matter what the consequences are. What happened to your grandiose plan to impress Seth by helping Sarah and Solita teach the Mexican women and children to speak English? You ran at every opportunity and left the teaching to Sarah, Solita, and now Katie
.

Dori drooped in the saddle and allowed Splotches to fall behind the band of travelers. Everything the little voice said was true.

Have you forgotten so soon how God saved you from the river?

The forest around Dori faded. Memory replaced the oaks and pines with a deadly, rushing stream. She shuddered in spite of the warm day. But for the grace of God, she would be dead. How had she repaid Him? By hanging on to the desire for revenge and putting Stancel, then Seth and Matt, in terrible danger.

Never before had Dori so felt the enormity of her offenses. The crushing knowledge caused her to plead, “God, forgive me. Jesus, please be my Trail-mate and Guide, as You are Matt’s and Sarah’s and Seth’s…” Words failed her. Reining in Splotches, she slid to the ground and fell to her knees beneath the widespread arms of a huge oak tree. Scalding tears fell.

“Jesus, you told Peter to forgive seventy times seven. You forgave him even though he denied You three times. I’ve never denied You in words, but through my actions. I’m so sorry. Please, help me to start over and be what You want me to be.”

Dori stayed under the tree for a long time, searching her soul for any hidden wrongdoing. When she finally remounted Splotches, an indescribable peace filled her heart. She patted the pinto’s neck and whispered, “I feel pounds lighter. And clean. Clean and forgiven. Now I have to find Stancel and apologize.” Dread of having to humble herself before the prim and proper Englishman filled her, but a scene from the past came to mind.

“Solita, I don’t feel like saying my prayers.”

“Perhaps it is because you have anger in your heart at Senor Mateo for not taking you with him to Madera.”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t go.”

“Senor Mateo had an important meeting. He had no time to watch out for you.”

“Why does that make me not want to pray?”

“It is always so, querida. Prayer is our gift to God. The Bible says that before we bring gifts to Him, we must first make things right with others.”

Alone on the hillside, Dori smiled. She could still remember running barefoot down the stairs and flinging herself into Matt’s forgiving arms. “I sure won’t fling myself into Stancel’s arms, but I’ll try to make amends,” she told Splotches. “I humiliated him publicly, so I need to apologize the same way.” She clucked to her horse and started down the long trail to find the others.

That evening around a blazing campfire, Dori waited until conversation dwindled. Then she took a deep breath, held, and released it. “Stancel, you wouldn’t know it from my actions, but I became a Christian when I was a little girl. Sadly, it didn’t keep me from wanting revenge for”—she faltered—“for what happened in Boston. I deliberately brought up the subject of riding the flume. Deep down, I figured you wouldn’t really do it when you saw what it was like. I wanted you to back down so I could show you up in front of everyone and crow over you.”