Hope (24 page)

What if she told them about God’s mercy? She, Hope Kallahan, daughter of Thomas Kallahan, preacher. What harm could it do? They couldn’t get any madder at her; they were already furious. She’d not witnessed before; Papa was the preacher in the family, not her. But Papa was dead, and she was here. Poor manners or unpardonable belching wouldn’t put off God.

Straightening, Hope squared her shoulders. God loves these numskulls—she was going to tell them so.

She shrank back. How should she start? She could see Papa with the Bible in his hand, preaching, urging sinners to repent. But she didn’t have a calling, and she sure wasn’t Papa with his solid convictions and impeccable Scripture knowledge. She made a real mess of things when she tried to quote anything. Why, she was barely an adequate talker. How could she be a witness for God?

“Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you . . . that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain. . . .”

Oh, Lord! Why me?
She pondered the problem.

“. . . Whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give to you. These things I command you, that ye love one another.”
She couldn’t believe she was remembering the Scriptures—though she still would be hard-pressed to cite chapter and verse. Drawing a deep breath, she muttered, “Why do you steal?”

The men looked up. Big Joe’s eyes tapered into venomous slits. “I told you to pipe down.”

Clearing her throat, she continued, willing authority into her voice. “As soon as you tell me why you steal.”

“’Cause we want to.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why.”

“We steal, Miss Snooty,” Boris said, “’cause . . . well, ’cause . . .” He glanced at Joe. “Tell her why we steal, Big Joe.”

“We steal ’cause we feel like it,” Big Joe said. He elbowed Boris, laughing. “We like to take other folks’ things, ain’t that right?”

Boris nodded emphatically. “That’s right.”

Hope noticed Frog wasn’t joining in the conversation.

“You take other people’s things, live in filthy cabins, wear foul-smelling clothes, eat out of dirty dishes, sleep on the hard ground, forsake the love of family and home because you like it?”

Big Joe nodded. “We like it.”

“That’s nuts,” she said. “Your life could be so different.”

The men exchanged glances, then went back to talking among themselves.

“Hey!”

Their eyes shot back to her.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“We heered; we jest ain’t interested in anythin’ you got to say.”

“Don’t you want to be different?”

They swapped another set of impatient looks.

“Whadda you mean, different?” Frog finally said. “Like we’d ought to hit banks instead of stages? Different like that?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Frog was the only one who took the censure to heart. In a while, he snorted. “What? Workin’ for wages, havin’ somebody tell us what to do all the time?”

“Quit eggin’ her on, Frog,” Joe snapped. “She’s trying to confuse us with talk about livin’ different. Ain’t no way we can live different. We are what we are.”

“Wrong.”

Joe rewarded her with an acid look. “Don’t say ‘wrong.’”

“But you are wrong. There’s a better way to live, and you’re not too old, or too mean, or too set in your ways to change. Not even you, Joe.”

Frog seemed uncomfortable with the subject. “I agree with Joe. You oughtta stop talking.”

“All right. Can I read?”

“Read?” Joe shook his head as if she was trying him beyond his limits. “Yore a nuisance, ya know that? You ain’t got nothin’ to read.”

“I have a Bible. It’s in my pocket.”

“Good for you. Now shut up.” He leaned back, tipping his hat over his eyes.

“Okay, I won’t read. Can I recite out loud?”

“Recite all you want. Just don’t bother me.” Boris chuckled, getting up to move around. Frog sat by the fire, whittling on a piece of wood.

“‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’” Hope sighed, proud of herself. All that Bible reading was paying off. “John 3:16.”

Big Joe and Boris acted as if they hadn’t heard. Frog looked up, catching Hope’s eye. “My ma read that to me once.”

Hope quelled her fear. The Lord was with her; she could feel it. “Do you understand what it means, Frog?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“It means that God loved you so much that he allowed his Son, Jesus Christ, to die a most shocking death on a cross. For your sins and my sins and Joe’s sins and Boris’s sins. Christ was buried and rose on the third day. Before he left this earth, he promised that he would prepare a place in heaven for those who believed in his name, and someday he will return for his children. He wants you to be his child.”

A strained silence fell over the camp. Overhead, a full moon rose higher. A lone coyote called to its mate. The men stood around the fire cradling cups of coffee in their hands.

“He gonna build a bigger fire, give us better blankets, better food?” Joe scoffed.

“He can, if you ask. He’s not in the business of catering to our whims, but he has the ability to move a mountain, if he wants to.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heered. Move a mountain—no one can do that. And why would God’s Son die for me? I ain’t even met the man.” Boris kicked dirt into the fire.

“That I can’t say. I certainly wouldn’t. I can only tell you, he did die for your sins and mine. That’s the joy of his love. No one asked him to die; he did it because he loved us. And we have no way of saving ourselves but through him.”

“That’s jest stupid,” Joe pronounced. “I’m going ta bed.”

Hope looked at Frog, who refused to meet her eyes now. Was she reaching him?

“Guess I’ll turn in too,” Frog said. He walked past Hope, pausing in front of her. He dropped his voice. “Iffen I was to git that book . . . the Bible. Where would I find that stuff yore yammerin’ about?”

“You can have this one.”

“Cain’t read,” he whispered gruffly.

“You can have someone read it to you.”

Nodding, he glanced over his shoulder. “You jest keep the Bible for now, and don’t go tellin’ Joe ’bout this.”

“Don’t worry.” Hope’s eyes traced Frog’s. “He wouldn’t listen if I did.”

Later, she lay gazing up at the moon. Was Frog thinking about the plan of salvation? She prayed that God would open the outlaw’s eyes and his heart.

Oh, Dan, maybe there is a reason why we’ve been thrown together. God loves Frog so much he sent someone to tell him so.

Somewhere, Dan was under the same sky, searching for her. She closed her eyes, trying to remember his smell, the way his eyes lit when he smiled. Hot tears burned behind her lids. Would she ever see him again?

“Miss Kallahan?”

Hope wasn’t sure she heard her name spoken, but she opened her eyes. Frog was leaning over her. Her heart sprang to her throat.

“What is it?”

Kneeling beside her, he lay a hand across her mouth. “Don’t wake the others. I need to talk to you.”

She nodded, her eyes making a silent promise.

Untying her hands, he helped her up. She nearly cried out from relief. Flexing her fingers, she tried to revive the circulation.

“Come with me.”

He led her away from the fire where the other men’s snores clogged the chilly night air.

They sat down on a carpet of moss beneath an oak tree. Moonlight streamed through the branches, illuminating the setting. Frog suddenly got back up and started to pace.

“I want to know what you was talkin’ about earlier.”

“John 3:16?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Was it the truth, or are you jest tryin’ to pull our legs?”

“It’s the truth. I was talking about the power of Jesus Christ to save us—each of us—from the consequences of our sin.”

“He cain’t do nothin’ ’bout me. I’m too far gone . . . he cain’t help me.”

“Oh, Frog. I know it sounds like wishful thinking. We’ve all sinned and fallen short of God’s glory. But when we confess our sins and ask for forgiveness, the Lord is swift to pardon us. But we—you and I—have to surrender our life to the Almighty. He’ll settle for nothing less.”

“Surrender?” Frog shook his head. “I ain’t never surrendered to no one.”

“Well, it isn’t easy,” she granted. “To die to our own will is hard. But once we do, the Lord can come into our heart and bless us in such a mighty way we can only fall on our knees and thank him for his unbelievable love.”

She smiled, aware that she was talking to herself as well as to Frog. “I struggle with placing my whole trust in the Lord. To trust him with my life and my thoughts and my future—most of all my future—is difficult.”

Exceptionally hard. She had to work at it every day; but it was getting easier. She still didn’t understand why God would choose to place her in the path of Big Joe and his gang, or why she met Dan after she agreed to marry John. Or why she’d gotten so sick, and Dan had been shot and had to surrender his fine, leather-tooled saddle for a mangy old goat. Why Letty wanted to trade that old mean mule for that scruffy old goat that’d eat the clothes off a person’s back if they’d let it. She couldn’t explain any of those things; she just chalked it up to the fact that God in his infinite wisdom knew what he was doing.

“You see, Frog, we have a choice, a simple choice, actually. We choose to live for Jesus Christ or for Satan. Has anyone ever told you about God’s love for you?”

Frog nodded, sheepish now. “Ma tried; it jest never got through my thick noggin.”

“God loves you. He loves you more than I can ever make you understand.” She pressed Dan’s Bible into his hands. “I know you can’t read this, but hold it close to your heart and talk to God. He can hear our deepest needs. We don’t have to see words to apply them to our hearts. We only have to know that they’re there and believe them.”

Nodding, Frog said quietly, “Thank you, ma’am. I’m gonna think real hard on this.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your papa?”

Tears welled in his eyes. “A long time.”

“God’s your heavenly Father. Our heavenly Father. He’ll listen and understand your problems just as your earthly father would. Even more so. And he’ll remember those sins no more. You can’t hide from God, Frog. There’s nowhere to go; he’s with us every moment. Once you’ve confessed your sins and asked Jesus to come into your heart, no one can ever separate you from his wondrous love.”

Frog glanced toward Big Joe, whose snores were lifting the bedroll.

“Nobody?”

“Nobody.”

Hope leaned closer. “Nobody.”

He looked at her, his eyes dark with need. “It sounds mighty simple.”

“It is simple. Living for him is harder, but the Scriptures are there to guide us. We may step away, but he doesn’t.”

He pressed the Bible to his heart, then squeezed her hand.

“We gotta git back. It’d be real hard on you if Joe was to catch us talkin’.”

“Frog?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’ll pray for you every night.”

“Yes, ma’am—I’m much obliged.”

They crept back to camp. Hope held up her wrists, and Frog secured them with the rope. He obviously took pains, making sure the cord wasn’t too tight. His touch was gentle.

“Thank ya again, ma’am,” he whispered. “I won’t let them hurt ya.”

“Thank you, Frog. God bless you.”

The rain falls on the just and unjust,
she thought as she watched him walk away. Her eyes shifted to Big Joe and Boris, where funny-sounding whistles were coming from their gaping mouths. He also takes care of fools and children.

How did a man turn to crime and violence when his mama prayed for his salvation every night? She guessed she just might ask God that when she met him. But she hoped that tonight, God might have answered Frog’s mama’s prayers.

Thank you, Father. We all fall into the category of fools and children, don’t we?

Somehow, through his grace, the terror of this long day had turned into a blessing.

“You’re right as usual, Papa,” she murmured as she huddled beneath a thin blanket to stave off the chill wind. “God is good.”

Chapter Fifteen

Darkness was closing in as Dan topped a rise, drawing the heavily lathered roan to a halt. In the distance, a tuft of campfire smoke spiraled toward the early evening sky.

Clicking his tongue, he nudged the horse down a steep incline. With the edge of the forest as cover, he rode the fringe of the pines until he picked up a set of new tracks. He urged the horse up a steep bluff, then slowed as the aroma of side pork, beans, and coffee reached him. He studied the terrain.

Up ahead, a line of cedars stretched across the rugged landscape. The thick, prickly growth provided what he needed. Minutes later, he stepped out of the saddle, letting the horse graze as he squatted behind the cover. And waited.

One hour. Two hours. One by one, the men rolled into their blankets for the night. Dan kept his eyes on Hope, who was lying at the edge of the campfire, her wrists bound tightly behind her back. When the camp settled down, Dan began to carefully plan his approach. Then a movement caught his eye. Frog! He was untying Hope’s wrists. Leading her away from the camp. If he dared touch her . . . Dan felt his blood begin to boil.