The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [66]
Leah patted her knee. “When troubles come along, remember the joy you feel now.”
“Someday I want to be just like you.”
“Now I’m going to cry. But Ember, be yourself.” Leah swiped at a tear. “I’m waiting for your new song.”
“All right. This one came to me this morning. Hope you like it.
I thought the river far too wide
The chasm much too deep,
Until I took the leap toward grace
And fell at Jesus’ feet.
I heard the rushing waterfall
The white-churned roar of time,
And plunged into its endless depths
And let His breath be mine.
“My dear child,” Leah’s voice cracked. “You have such a passion for life. I hear it in your soul.”
While Aaron drove Mama into town to fetch Bert, John kept himself busy all morning making shingles to repair the roof of the house and barn. Mark worked alongside him, lending a good hand since John’s bandaged arm slowed him down. Evan had fired up the blacksmith forge. He had a talent for hammering and bending iron to form tools and horseshoes and repairing wagon wheels.
Excitement and longing wove through John at the thought of Bert coming home. Home. A good place for all of them to be.
But John had other problems occupying his mind. Victor Oberlander had another twenty head of cattle missing. He needed to be helping Bob, and the work on the ranch didn’t get done by itself. Evan was more than capable, but John hated to rely on him when he planned to leave soon for school. The clang of the hammer hitting the anvil reinforced his confidence in Evan’s abilities. John had to sidestep his big-brother attitude and let his brothers be their own men.
Laying aside the saw, he made his way to the small three-sided shed where Evan worked. Davis sat on a stool watching his brother.
“Can you spare a few minutes? I’d like to talk,” John said. His brother nodded, and it occurred to John that Evan might think this was about Bert. “It’s not about Bert.”
Evan offered a grim smile. At least they were keeping their truce. “That’s good to know. I’d hate for Mama to get back and find you all bruised up worse than what you already are.”
“Yeah. She’d have us cut our own switches and then march us to the woodshed.”
Evan wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his shirtsleeve. “Been a long time since we’ve gotten ourselves into that much trouble. Even then we were bigger than she is. Pa always said messin’ with Mama was like getting stung by a bee—small but mighty. What’s on your mind?”
“Cattle rustlers. Leon wasn’t working alone. In fact—” He glanced at Davis. “Would you fetch a bucket of water from the well? All of us could use a cool drink.”
Davis jumped down from the stool and was gone without a word.
John turned back to Evan and noted Mark stood in the shadows of the shed. “I haven’t told Mama this, but Leon couldn’t have been the one who shot me.”
Evan frowned and stepped from behind the hot forge. “I don’t understand. Weren’t there other riders who witnessed it?”
“Leon was inside the shack and did open fire, but he couldn’t have shot me.” John drew a line in the dirt with his boot. “I was here at the corner of the cabin. The bullet had to have been fired from the woods to get me at this angle.”
“Sounds like whoever shot you wanted it to look like Leon did it,” Evan said. “That tells me Leon was working with at least one other man, or maybe Leon had nothing to do with the rustlin’ at all.”
“I think the real shooter wanted Leon to take the blame for everything. As jumpy as the men in the posse were, anything resembling gunfire would have caused them to pull the trigger.” John resisted the urge to massage his wounded arm for fear one of them would tell Mama.
Mark stepped up to his brothers. “Sounds like the shooter wanted to show you he could shoot you and get away with it. Have you made anybody mad?”
John studied Mark, who seemed to grow faster than Aaron, and took a moment to consider his response to the fourteen-year-old. “I don’t know of anyone who’s mad enough to shoot me. I make a few enemies now and then but not