slid too far. Just as quickly, the forehooves clapped the packed dirt. It jarred the breath from her. The horse raced farther into the trees, heedless of the commands she bellowed. She stretched her arms as far as they’d reach around the horse’s neck, muscles pulling as she hung tightly.
She bounced, her vision rattled as she tried to stay mounted and, at the same time, watch the direction the animal was taking.
The horse squealed, then lurched to a stop. Stars, leaves and dirt tangled before her. She felt weightless for an instant, then all of gravity’s force came back to her with a crunch. The dimness of sunset faded to dark.
Chapter Five
Z ane reined his horse to a stop, breathing hard. “Feels good to stretch the legs, eh, Malachi?” He patted the steamy neck as he dismounted by the stream. Closer to town, the brook broadened and slowed into a river. But here, it still gurgled and bounced over rocks.
He hunched down by the edge and trailed his fingers in the water a moment, then scooped a handful to drink. It ran fresh and cold down his throat, and he smoothed the back of his wet hand over his lips and chin. He’d need to shave before service.
Stretching out on the stubbled grass with his hands clasped behind his head, he stared up at a night sky of the deepest blue, covered with stars high above. Miss Rose would have a piece of his hide if she knew he’d come out without his coat.
For as long as he’d lived here, the beauty of the land had never failed to awe him. “Lord, I thank You for Your hand I see in all creation. It’s a comfort to know things are in the order You made them to be.” The scent of sage carried on the wind. He traced the swollen lump around his eye with his fingers.
“I pray, Lord, that You’ll bless the folks here. Make sure I preach the words You give me to their benefit as well as my own. And thanks for watching out for me today when I fell. It could’ve been worse, I reckon. Turns out just my pride got hurt. Keep a special eye on Miss Rose, too, Lord. She’s a dear old soul who’s loved and served You a long while. I’m asking You to send the right person to help her.”
Journey seemed an unlikely choice. She reminded him of a colt his father had bought from a rancher known for poor handling of his animals. That colt never lost the suspicious gleam in its eyes. It always flinched when touched, bolted often and busted fences more times than he could count.
“Until You do, Lord, help me look after Miss Rose. And thank You for putting her here to take care of me like she has ever since—”
Since Sarah died. He scratched his chin and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. A fire blazed in his chest. Sarah. Their baby she carried. The flame that took them burned in him still. Three years without them—where would he be now without Miss Rose’s prayer and love and support?
“I still miss them. I know they rest with You, Lord. It makes it easier, but I still ache that they’re gone. Help me, Lord.”
He stood and brushed himself off, clearing his dry throat. “All these things I lay before You, in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
He nickered to his horse, who trotted over and nuzzled his shoulder. “C’mon, Malachi. Let’s get back. You can listen to my sermon before I turn in.”
He’d always been a fair tracker, but when the Lord had called him to preach, he was sure he’d misread the signs. His palms still sweat when he stood before his congregation. Sarah had always listened to the sermon twice—once the evening before so he could practice and again during Sunday service. Her soft laugh would echo through the tiny home he’d been able to provide, and she’d run her fingers through his hair. He could still feel her wide, moist lips on his cheek.
“Preach it with the fire God’s given you for His Word, for others, and you’ll be fine,” she’d say.
Now he had Malachi. Captive audience, little response. He mounted up and spurred the
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley