The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [71]
Was Victor a suitor or simply an interested man? “I don’t know what to say.”
“Good. That’s not a no.” He righted his hat. “I’ll be leaving now.”
She watched him mount his horse while curiosity picked at her. “When did you become a Christian?”
He smiled. “When you quit writing. Guess that makes it three years, four months, and two days.”
Leah laughed. “I’m glad to know my refusal to marry you went for God’s glory.”
He sat straight in the saddle, looking far too appealing. “But you see I’m back and even more determined.”
Wirt rode away at a fast pace, not giving her a moment to refuse him. She wrapped her arms around her chest and wondered what he’d say if he knew she’d kept his letters.
CHAPTER 32
John rode into the dusty streets of Rocky Falls late in the afternoon, tired and tasting a mouthful of dirt. For two days, he’d ridden hard to talk to folks about the cattle rustlin', but no one had a thing to report. He reached for his canteen and finished up the water, washing down the dirt and grit — enough to grow potatoes. The number of missing cattle had risen to two hundred head. He told himself and the angry ranchers that plenty of cattle grazed in the higher summer pastures, but not two hundred of them. The cattle must have been driven farther south, which meant the rustlers were well on their way to Denver.
He knew many of the ranchers suspected Bert having a part in the thievery, so he offered to turn in his deputy badge. Not one man took him up on it.
No one had better break the law today, ‘cause he wasn’t in the mood to hear any excuses.
Truth was, he fretted about a wagon load—no, two wagon loads—of burdens that weighed hard on his mind. He understood the importance of bringing his problems to the Lord, but it didn’t stop the anxiety raging through him. The rustlers were growing bolder, as though daring him and Bob to discover their identity. The instructions he’d given his brothers and Mama to keep a loaded rifle close by as a precaution gave him some peace of mind. But just some. He feared for them, especially if the rustlers got wind of him not being around.
Another matter tearing through him was Bert. As much as he wanted to believe she cared for him, the idea of her and Evan keeping company in his absence sent a green streak up his spine. John’s feelings were new and fragile, and he wanted to trust her. But Evan might not be ready to concede. One couldn’t help but see the caring in Evan’s eyes. And why couldn’t she confide in him about her past?
Lately Oberlander found excuses to come by the ranch. Another reason for John to examine his feelings. Shouldn’t he want Mama to be happy? Except he didn’t think Victor Oberlander measured up to what he figured she deserved. There, he’d admitted it, if to no one else but himself. Oberlander had plenty of money, and Mama worked much too hard. But she never complained.
Another troublesome notion was John didn’t think Oberlander had a close relationship with the Lord. The language he used and his actions often pointed to the condition of his heart.
I won’t figure any of this out today.
He tied his horse to the hitching post outside the marshal’s office and studied another horse tied there too. John frowned. The painted gelding didn’t look familiar. Sure hope it isn’t more trouble. Fine looking saddle and saddle bags … Certainly not a drifter.
John stepped onto the boardwalk and turned the knob into the marshal’s office. The aroma of fresh coffee and the not-so-pleasant smells of the jail met him. Wirt Zimmerman rose from the chair across from Bob’s desk. A smile spread over the man’s face, and he reached out to shake John’s hand.
“Good to see you,” Wirt said. “You’ve grown into a fine lookin’ man.”
Wirt Zimmerman was not what he and Bob needed. But John shook the man’s hand anyway as a gesture of good manners. Maybe the US Marshal had gained some valuable experience — or maybe he hadn’t. John realized he needed to rein in his surly mood.