Prairie Storm (9 page)

“Then talk to him,” she murmured. “And listen. Hold him close. Touch him. Comfort him when he cries. Kiss him. Take care of his needs. And bring a little fun to his life. That's all.”

She brushed away a stray tear and blotted her finger on her skirt. What was it with men? Her father, a man she had struggled so hard to please, had been unable to love his only child. But Lily had loved Abigail so easily. So very easily.

“I'd offer you my handkerchief, but I had to use it for a diaper on Sam last night.” Somehow Elijah had moved to within a foot of Lily and the baby. “Talk, listen, comfort, and have fun. Clean diapers and good food. That's all there is to it?”

“And touch,” she said softly. “Don't forget to touch him.”

He reached out to one of the baby's bare feet. Lily observed him as he set the little foot in his palm and ran his fingertip across the tiny toes. “They look like kernels of new corn,” he said in a low voice. “You know how you shuck a cob sometimes, and you see those little white nubbins? That's what his toes look like. Nubbins.”

He bent over, his head nearly touching hers, and examined the baby's foot. The preacher had good hands, Lily noticed. They had seen hard work and plenty of sun. But the nails were strong and clean, and the fingers conveyed a sense of power even as they gently explored the baby's tiny toes.

The man smelled nice, too. The fragrance of fresh soap mingled with the scent of his sunbaked leather hat and worn boots. He had rolled the cuffs of his sleeves halfway to his elbows, and she could see the mat of dark gold hair that covered his arms. If she dared to trust his words—and she didn't—she might believe that he was the simple man he claimed to be. She might accept that he truly cared about the baby, truly believed in God, and truly wanted to learn to love people. But it would take more than his pretty words to convince her. It was how a man lived that made the difference.

“You reckon I could hold him?” the preacher asked. “Of course, if he's still feeding—”

“He's not nursing.” She slipped the baby from beneath the shawl. “Circle your arms, Mr. Book. Nestle his head in the crook of your elbow. Tuck your hand under him. There.”

Elijah sat unmoving, as stiff as a statue, staring at the dozing child. “I'm scared I'm going to drop him or crush him or something.”

“He's all right. You're doing fine.”

“Hey, Nubbin,” he cooed. “How ya doin' there, buddy? Look at his eyelashes. They're so long.”

“He's pretty.”

“Nah, he looks like one of those old potatoes you find at the bottom of the bin in the chuck wagon. Wrinkled and splotchy and all shriveled up.”

“He's not well.”

“I'm afraid that's my fault.”

“You didn't kill his mother,” she said. Then she looked up at him. “Did you?”

He looked up, his blue eyes flashing. “No,” he whispered. “Why would you ask something like that?”

Lily met his gaze. “Why not? All I know about you is what you've chosen to tell. You say you're a preacher who found a baby in a wagon. Maybe that's true. Maybe not.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Why not?”

“I don't have anything to hide. I told you who I am, where I've been, what I've done. You've hardly told me anything.”

“And I don't intend to,” she said, starting to rise.

“Look here, Lily Nolan.” He caught her arm and pulled her back down beside him. “God put the two of us together, whether you want to believe that or not. I need you. Samuel needs you. And even though you'll argue yourself blue in the face about this—you need me.”

“No, I—”

“I'll treat you right. I'll never lie to you. I won't hurt you or cheat you or play games with you. I'm just Elijah Book, that's all, and what you see is what I am. Now, you can fight me and try to drive me away. Or you can work alongside me. I'm asking you for peace. I'm asking you to be my partner. Will you do that?”

Lily drew back from Elijah, her heart hammering. “If I become your partner,” she said, “I'll have to let you in. And I'll never let anyone in.”

As she walked up the creek bank toward town, she could feel his eyes following her. A sparrow swooped down and perched on the end of a bowed blade of bluestem grass. Lily tugged her white shawl tightly around her shoulders and began to rebuild the sagging walls that fortified her heart. She could not afford to let Elijah Book come too close. Though he claimed to know nothing of love, he somehow reached out to her, touched her, held her, and caressed the wounded edges of her soul. She could not let him in. She would not.

Chapter 5

A
S ELIJAH carried his son back up the creek bank toward the church, he recognized Seth Hunter standing outside the building. The man held a large woven basket topped by a bright, red-checkered cloth. “How about some lunch?” Seth called.

Eli grinned. “You read my mind, Brother.”

“Rosie had a roast in the oven all morning, and we intended to invite you to eat at our house. But you got away.”

“I went looking for Sam.”

“How's he doing?”

“Half his breakfast is on my shoulder,” Eli said. “I guess it's not a good idea to jiggle a baby right after he eats.”

Seth laughed. “I'm fixing to learn all about that. My wife is due come autumn, and this will be the first baby I've helped with.”

“I thought you had a son. The little fellow with the big dog?”

“Chipper was born to my first wife while I was away at war. Mary died before I could get back to her.”

Eli tried to think what to say. He wasn't accustomed to hearing another man's personal matters. But he supposed that for a minister, it came with the territory.

“I've never been married,” he mumbled. “Uh … and I'm sure sorry about your first wife.”

“Well, God sent Rosie to me last spring. That was a miracle, if there ever was one.”

“He does look after us.” Feeling awkward, Eli patted Samuel. For once, the child was quiet.

“I sure would hate it if anything happened to Rosie,” Seth said. “You know … while she's laboring over the baby.”

Eli shook his head. “That can be bad. Boy howdy, it sure is trouble on a woman to give birth. My own mother died in childbirth when I was just five years old. She labored for three days. It was awful, all of it. The baby never did come, and finally my mama passed on. I don't believe my papa ever got over the grief of losing her.”

Observing the farmer's stunned expression, Eli suddenly realized he hadn't said one word the man needed to hear. As a matter of fact, he'd only added to Hunter's fears. Eli's spirits sank. He didn't have any sense of how to comfort or reassure a person. Women did die in childbirth. They died often.

Lily Nolan had told him a pastor had to tend the sick and the dying. During the worst moments in their lives, the people of Hope would look to Eli for answers. He didn't even know how to begin.

“But—uh,” he fumbled, “I'm sure Mrs. Hunter will be fine.”
Lord
, he breathed,
help me out here
. “There's bound to be a good doctor around these parts.”

“No,” Seth said. “We don't have a doctor in Hope.”

“No doctor.”

“If you believe there's a God in heaven,” Lily Nolan said, joining them, “then you'll remember he keeps his eye on everyone— even the sparrows. I couldn't help overhearing you, Mr. Hunter, and as I'd just noticed a sparrow near the creek, I thought I'd remind you of those verses in Matthew: ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.… Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.'”

Eli gaped at the woman.

“Reverend Book,” she went on, “why don't you reassure Mr. Hunter that the God you trust with your eternal soul considers the lives of Mrs. Hunter and her baby important?”

Seth and Eli looked at each other. Eli swallowed. “Mrs. Nolan is right,” he said. “God doesn't promise to protect us from every bad thing that comes along. But he loves us, and he's right here with us through thick and thin. He listens to our prayers, Mr. Hunter, so every day I'm going to talk to God about your wife. I believe he'll see her through the hard labor ahead. I'm going to have faith that come September you'll welcome a fine, healthy baby into your home.”

Seth visibly relaxed. “You'll pray for Rosie?”

“Morning, noon, and night.” Remembering Lily's instructions about how to show love, Eli reached out and laid his hand on the other man's shoulder. “You can depend on it, my friend.”

“Thank you, Brother Elijah,” Seth said. “I'll tell Rosie. She'll be mighty grateful, too.”

“You folks pray, too, and we'll even do some looking for a doctor who might want to move to town.”

“That would be great.” Seth gave Lily a warm smile. “Mrs. No lan, I've brought along some of Rosie's roast beef. Maybe you'd like to join Brother Elijah for lunch. We're happy to have both of you in Hope, and, Reverend, thanks again.”

Eli took the heavy wicker basket in his free hand and gave Seth Hunter a farewell nod as the man started up the road to his own home. Then he turned to Lily. “You were hopping mad at me a few minutes ago. Why did you help me?”

She shrugged. “You were botching it.”

“But you told me you don't believe in the Bible.”

“I believe in comforting people.” She lifted the lunch basket from Eli's arm. “Samuel has spit up all over your shoulder.”

“I was jiggling him.”

She rolled her eyes. “You're not much good at anything, are you, Mr. Book?”

“I can brand cattle.”

With a laugh, she headed to a tree near the church and spread the checkered cloth on a patch of shaded grass. Eli let out a breath.
Lord
, he lifted up,
I don't understand this woman. I don't know what I'm doing in this town. And I can't see where you're leading me. Would you mind letting me in on the plan?

“I am so hungry,” Lily exclaimed, taking mismatched china plates and cutlery from the basket. “Nursing a baby just drains all the strength right out of a woman. Here's some roast for you. I'm surprised the Hunters would have beef. Surely they're trying to build up their flock of cows.”

“Herd,” Eli said, kneeling across from her. “Cattle run in herds. Sheep run in flocks.”

Her blue eyes sparkled. “Maybe you're not as ignorant as I thought.”

“Not about livestock, anyhow.”

“Have you ever been to school, Mr. Book?”

“Once or twice. My father and I were on the move a lot. I like to read, though. I'll read anything I can lay my hands on. Did you get any schooling?”

“Certainly.” She spooned peas onto his plate and set a warm roll beside them. “I am well educated and trained in all the proper social graces.”

“Lonely, too.”

“I am not.” After giving him a withering glance, she set about buttering her roll. “Beatrice Waldowski is my good friend. She'll be back in a few days.”

“I guess we'll see about that. She took the wagon, you know.” Eli settled the baby on the blanket beside him. “Mind if I pray over this meal?”

“I'll try not to be offended by your beliefs as long as you're not offended by mine.”

“Dear Lord,” he began, wondering if there would ever come a day when Lily Nolan didn't irritate the living daylights out of him. “We praise you for this beautiful afternoon and for the folks who came to the service this morning. Touch them with your message of hope and salvation. I want to ask for your special protection over Mrs. Hunter and her baby. Please keep them safe, Lord. And, if you would, help me figure out how to manage Sam. Most of all, I want to thank you for sending along Mrs. Nolan. Touch her heart. In the name of Jesus I pray. Amen.”

“You forgot to thank God for the food.”

Eli lifted his head. “You know this religion business pretty well, don't you?”

“I'm a walking university of religious folderol. Ask me anything. Go on.”

“All right. Who parted the Red Sea?”

“Moses.”

“Who walked on water?”

“Jesus. And don't forget Peter, the poor fellow. He managed a few steps before his faltering faith sent him under.” She popped a bite of bread into her mouth. “Those are easy. Ask me something harder, like, Who drove a tent peg through the head of Sisera the Canaanite?”

Eli worked a few peas onto his fork. “How can a person know the Bible front to back and not believe it's the Word of God?”

Lily paused. “It was Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, who drove the peg through Sisera's head.”

“That's not the answer to my question.”

“Well, it's all the answer you're going to get from me,” she said. “Please pass the butter.”

Eli set the small crock near her plate and watched her tear apart a second roll. “You're right that I'm not cut out to be a pastor,” he said. “All I know is to preach the gospel and let the Lord do his work in people's souls. I can't comfort the sick and the dying, and I don't know how to reach a woman who's shut her heart up tight.” He studied the hand-hewn shingles on the roof of the new church. “The folks here need a real minister—not some ol' Texas cowhand.”

Lily tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Didn't King David start out as a shepherd?”

“Sure, but I'm not educated or tenderhearted or well mannered—none of those things you talked about. I know how to do a day's labor, earn my pay, eat a little chow, and sleep on the ground at night. I'm just a plain workingman.”

“Jesus was a carpenter. Paul made tents. Peter fished for a living. You're not in bad company, Reverend Book.”

“Right now, I'm in your company, and I can't figure you out.”