Wild At Heart (14 page)

Mariah arranged and rearranged her skirts, her nervousness evident. He wanted to answer her question, but he had his own struggles. Still, if he could make things easier for her, he’d muddle through. He may have been estranged from God because of his own confusion and hurt, but he wanted her to know the peace he’d once known.

“It really is a simple thing to ask God into your heart. You only need to believe that His Son, Jesus, died for your sins, repent of those sins, and then invite God to come into your heart. He will come.”

She swatted a fly away. “The reverend at my grandmother’s church in Chicago preaches that you must be obedient to God’s Word, and then goes on to tell about all the people God destroyed for their disobedience. He makes God sound distant and fierce.”

Adam noted how she referred to the church as her grandmother’s rather than hers. “I won’t deny that the Lord can be fierce, but He is also a loving, caring heavenly Father. He wants us to fellowship with Him and be His friend. For a friendship to grow, friends need to spend time together.” Guilt needled him at all the times he should have turned to the Lord and didn’t.

Mariah shrugged. “I just don’t know how to be friends with a mighty God that I can’t see.” The breeze whipped at Mariah’s hair, and she tucked the strand behind her ear.

“You can’t see the wind, but you know it’s there.”

“I can
feel
the wind and see how it blows the trees and flowers.”

“But you can feel God, too. In here.” He tapped his chest. His own words ladled more condemnation on him. In his grief over causing his father’s death, he’d shoved God away when the Lord would have comforted him. And he was still shoving. Unshed tears stung his eyes as he realized the grief he’d caused his heavenly Father. He turned his head away, blinked back the tears, and focused on helping Mariah understand.

“God can also help you know what to do when you face difficult times in your life.” Adam tossed a pebble into the creek and watched the ripples, wishing now that he’d let God help him through the rough days.

“Did He help you… I mean, through a rough time?”

Adam clenched his jaw, thinking about how alone he’d felt after his father died. But it hadn’t always been that way. There’d been a time he felt God answer his prayers. “I remember crying out to God when we left Texas. I was angry at Pa for making us leave. I didn’t want to come here. Then my horse stepped in a gopher hole and had to be put down. I felt like I’d lost my best friend.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Adam. We don’t have to talk about that if it bothers you.”

He breathed in deeply, feeling a release of tension. “No, it’s all right. I think I need to talk about it. After my initial ranting at Pa, I ran off alone and cried out to God. It felt as if He took me and cradled me on His lap. Perhaps that sounds odd, but that’s how it seemed to me.”

“That’s beautiful. I wish I’d had God to comfort me when my parents died.” Mariah plucked a nearby wild prairie rose and rubbed her thumb over the dark pink petals. The flower’s beauty faded next to hers.

“Things changed after Pa died.”

Mariah gazed at him, obviously wanting to know what had changed, but she remained silent. Adam stared at the bank across the creek, unable to believe he was ready to share the secret he’d held for all these years. “Pa would be alive today if not for me.”

She gasped. “What do you mean? Anna said your pa had an accident.”

Adam rubbed his wounded arm. “That day, Pa told me to change the wagon wheel because he was going into town for supplies. I was… uh… doing something else and wanted to finish that first. I never did change the wheel. It broke, and Pa and the wagon tumbled off an icy bluff near the trail.”

“Oh, Adam, I’m so sorry.” Mariah laid a soft hand on his cheek.

He wanted to lean into it, but he didn’t deserve her comfort. “Later, after Pa was buried, Quinn and I went to the accident site to see if we could salvage anything. I saw the busted wheel and knew that the accident was my fault. If only I’d repaired it….”

Mariah turned so that she faced him. “You have no proof that you’re responsible. You might have repaired the wheel and your pa still could have had the accident. You said it was icy then.”

“I should have done what I was told instead of—”
Drawing.
He couldn’t tell Mariah that he’d been drawing a picture of a cow with her newborn calf instead of doing the work his father had instructed him. That’s why he’d given up drawing—as a penance. Only recently had the call to draw become too strong to ignore.

Mariah remained quiet, as if she didn’t know what to say.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I walked away from God. I felt too unworthy to ask Him to comfort me after what I’d done.”

“You were just a boy.”

“I was fourteen. Out here, a fourteen-year-old does a man’s job—is a man. I know now that I should have turned to God instead of away from Him. It would have made things much easier.” He thought of how he’d pulled away from his mother and his brother and sister, too, not consoling them in their loss or allowing comfort from them. He’d been stubborn and stupid, causing his grief and anger to drive a wedge in his relationship with his siblings, especially with Quinn.

Adam stood, feeling the need to be alone. “I don’t know that I’ve helped you any.”

Mariah accepted his offered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He caught a whiff of her sweet scent and remembered how nice it had felt to hold her in his arms. But the comfort he needed now wasn’t a woman’s, but from a higher source.

“Thank you, Adam. I know what you shared must have been painful for you, but it helped me.”

He watched her walk back to the house. At the door, she turned and waved at him. His heart thumped as it did when he’d been running.

He crossed the creek at the bridge he and Quinn had erected when they’d first come to this area, and climbed up to the top of a rocky butte. A cool north wind whipped at his hat, threatening to steal it away. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the breeze. Tears dripped down his cheeks, leaving their saltiness on his lips. He swiped them away, embarrassed for his weakness even though nobody was there to see them. He dropped to his knees, thinking of how he’d turned his back on God.

“I’m sorry, Lord. Forgive me for the anger I’ve held all these years. I was the one responsible for Pa’s death, but I blamed You for not saving him. I’m sorry.”

Sometime later, Adam rose, feeling fresh and renewed for the first time in years. The sun dipped behind a butte, painting shades of orange and pink in the sky. Hope swelled in his chest, and he felt true joy for the first time in years. He needed to apologize to Quinn and Anna for his bad attitude of late and for shoving them away.

As he walked back home, he stopped on the bridge and looked up again. Feathery black clouds disappeared against the darkening sky in the east. “Thank You, God, for forgiving me. Help me to forgive myself, and show me what to do about my growing feelings for Mariah.”

Mariah stood at the window in the parlor watching Adam walk to the barn, his long-legged gait smoothly carrying him away from her. His arm, free of the sling now, held something that looked like a pad of paper against his side. Her affections for the man grew daily.
Oh, what am I going to do?

Something had happened after their talk at the creek. Adam seemed more lighthearted and happy. She’d even seen the confused looks that Anna and Quinn had shared at the dinner table when Adam told a joke he’d heard while in Bismarck. Her heart had warmed to see him laughing at the corny joke.

Mariah heard a shuffling noise, and Anna joined her at the window.

“Adam seems different lately, don’t you think?” Anna sidled a glance her way.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. He seems happier than he ever has since I’ve known him, not that that’s been such a long while.”

Anna stared at Mariah. Uneasiness edged up her spine. What could Anna be thinking?

“Hmm… just be careful with Adam. He’s suffered a lot since our pa died.” Anna turned back toward the window. A wistful smile tilted her lips. “He seemed to take Pa’s death much harder than Quinn and me. I never figured out why, since they weren’t particularly close.

“I’m so relieved to see him smiling again. It’s like having my brother back. I know something’s happening between you and Adam. I like you a lot, Mariah”—she turned to face her again—“but I don’t want my brother to get hurt.”

Mariah opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Did Anna think she was responsible for Adam’s current state of joy?

“I’ve got to work with my yearling. I’ll see you later.” Anna went outside and actually walked down the steps. Mariah smiled at the small victory.

She sat down on the couch and considered Anna’s words. Could Adam’s joy possibly be that of a man in love?

Her feelings for Silas had never compared to those she felt for Adam. She admired him even on the train when he first protected her from the antagonizing cowboy and then saved her from being kidnapped. She shivered to think what could have happened if he hadn’t been brave enough to challenge that rude, gun-toting train robber.

Suddenly she bounced to her feet, feeling almost guilty for Adam’s happiness. If his current attitude had something to do with his affection for her, what would happen to him when she returned home?

Wringing her hands, she considered how her own heart would ache when it came time to leave. But what hope was there for her and Adam, even if he did hold affections for her?

She simply must return home to Grandma, and Adam belonged here. There wasn’t much use for a cowboy in Chicago—or a city girl in the country. She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. Her throat tightened.

The walls of the house closed in, seeming to strangle her. She needed to get out and away where she could think. A ride would do her good.

She paused at her bedroom door, thinking of the man who’d accosted her in town. Was his threat real? Or just meant to scare her?

If she stayed close to the ranch where there were people working, she should be fine. She headed to her room to change into the split riding skirt that she’d grown to appreciate.

At the barn a short while later, Hank held on to Sugar’s bridle. “I just hope I don’t get fired for this. You sure it’s all right with Adam for you to ride alone?”

“I promise not to go far, but I need to get away for a bit.”

He didn’t look convinced but let go of the bridle. “Just make sure you keep the barn or house in sight, you hear?”

Mariah nodded, giddy to be on horseback again. How could she come to love riding in such a short time? And did she love Adam, too, or did she just admire him?

She guided the mare out of the yard and down the hill, amazed at how quickly her riding skills had improved.

A smile tugged at her cheeks. A little over a week ago she’d argued with Adam about finding her a sidesaddle, but now she actually liked riding astride. Staying on was much easier, and her right leg didn’t cramp like it had with the sidesaddle.

She rode down the hill, away from the house and barn and through the shallow creek. At the top of the next hill, she reined Sugar to the west, keeping the house in sight. Gusty fingers of wind yanked at her hat, threatening to steal it away. “Whoa, Sugar.”

She looped the reins around the saddle horn and retied her hat. The straw of her summer bonnet flapped like a bird’s wing. The heavier weight of the Western hats were far more practical out here than her lighter head coverings. If she ever came west again, she’d invest in her own Western hat and more practical clothing. Perhaps even a pair of boots.

Loosening the reins, she allowed Sugar to lower her head and nibble at the grass. Mariah hadn’t been able to get Adam’s words out of her head. It pained her that he felt responsible for his father’s death. She could see why he thought that but still wondered if it were the truth. With icy roads, accidents happened fairly often, even when a wagon was in perfect condition. She’d seen plenty of them in Chicago’s inclement weather.

And what about the things Adam had said about God? She gazed heavenward, watching a hawk spiraling in the azure sky. “Do You truly want to be my friend, God? It’s all so confusing. Do I believe the reverend or Adam and his family?”

Adam’s God seemed so much more approachable. The longing to have a faith like that of the McFarlands nagged her. Perhaps if she could talk to Adam some more, she could make better sense of it all.

She glanced toward the tiny house in the distance and realized she’d wandered too far. Turning around, she leaned back in the saddle as Sugar picked her way down a rocky incline. The mare’s back hooves skidded suddenly, sending Mariah’s heart ricocheting in her chest and her hands grasping the saddle horn. Sugar righted herself before Mariah could react further and slowed down on level ground.

Mariah remembered losing her own parents and thought how awful she’d feel if she’d been in any way responsible. Her heart ached for the fourteen-year-old Adam, a boy who had suffered not only his father’s loss, but also felt as if he were responsible.

“Please, God, if You’re the loving, caring God I’ve heard about recently, please help Adam to forgive himself. Take away his pain.”

A warmth, as if she’d drunk steaming coffee, heated her chest. Praying felt so right. Perhaps she should try talking to God again.

The house disappeared as she rode up another hill then reappeared as she reached the peak. In the valley south of the house, the large herd of black cattle Adam had told her about grazed peacefully. They were sleek, pretty cows—and steers.

Thanks to a private talk with Anna, she now understood the difference, although from a distance they all looked the same.

Under the shade of a cluster of quaking aspen trees, she saw someone sitting in the grass. She pulled down the brim of her hat to block the sun and stared at the figure. Was it someone spying on the ranch? Should she ride for help?

But the person was between her and the house.

She nudged Sugar closer. Perhaps if she could get near enough, she could kick Sugar into a sudden run and charge right past the man before he could mount his horse.