Chapter 33

33

N ovember dawned cold and fair. Franklin had been out in the barn doing chores before breakfast. As he returned to the house, he studied the snow-capped mountains surrounding his ranch. Not much of the snow had made it all the way to the valley. As cold as the air was now, the next snowstorm could bury them in the white stuff.

Inside the warm, cozy ranch house, he shed his winter outerwear and left them near the front door. Laughter in the kitchen drew him the way the Pied Piper had drawn the children out of the German city of Hamelin. When he'd heard the tale as a boy, he'd often wondered how just a sound could draw a person so strongly. Now he knew. The women discussing the coming day, Michael jabbering and banging his hands on the tray of the highchair, and the softer sounds coming from little Andrew drew him like bees to honey.

He stood in the doorway for a moment before anyone saw him. The room, a kaleidoscope of color and action. Michael was the first to notice him.

"Da, da, da." A smile that melted Franklin's heart lit Michael's face as he pounded the tray between each syllable.

Lorinda turned and their eyes met. Did he detect delight in hers?

"How is everyone this morning?" He hunkered beside the basket near the stove and the tiny boy opened his eyes...wider than ever before.

Franklin picked him up and laid the baby close to his heart before taking a seat in his usual chair at the table. He should be able to handle eating while holding Andrew. The baby didn't move around much yet, and all Franklin needed was one hand to partake of his meal.

"Wonderful." Lorinda got up to help Mrs. Oleson put the food on the table.

His heart felt full with their expanded family. The week-old baby had settled in just fine, and his wife had a special glow about her. She was meant to be a mother to more than one child. He hoped the day would come when he could give her his own child to love and care for.

Mrs. Oleson set a cup of hot coffee in front of him. "Is it getting even colder outside?"

"Yup. It's way past nippy out there." He took a sip of the steaming brew, then cradled the cup with his hand until his fingers became toasty.

Lorinda brought a platter of scrambled eggs and ham in one hand and a basket of piping hot biscuits in the other. She set them on the table and sat beside him. After putting a large spoonful of eggs on a saucer to cool for Michael, she served Franklin a heaping helping of them, along with a thick slice of ham.

"You want me to butter some biscuits for you?" Her smile warmed him clean through.

"That would be right nice." He watched as she deftly split two biscuits open and slathered them with the fresh-churned spread. His mouth watered watching her drizzle honey on top.

Evidently, Andrew had fallen asleep. By the time they finished eating, he started squirming.

"Is this little guy hungry?"

A becoming blush poured into Lorinda's cheeks. She hadn't been shy about nursing Michael, even though she went into the other room to do it. When Andrew needed her, she was a bit more flustered. In a cute way.

"He probably needs changing, too." Lorinda eased the baby into her arms and hurried toward the bedroom that once again belonged to Michael plus the new baby.

After she closed the door, Franklin followed into the hallway. He could hear her sweet voice talking to Andrew as if the tiny infant could understand every word she said.

Franklin had given her plenty of privacy when Michael was this young. That's why he hadn't heard her talk to him at this age.

The sound of hoofbeats caught his attention. He went into his office that was opposite the parlor and watched a stranger approach the house. When the man got close enough, Franklin recognized him as the person who'd caught his attention when he exited the train while Franklin was finishing his business with Harley Smith, the cattle buyer. He'd know that horse anywhere. The gunmetal gray turned almost silver in the bright winter sunlight. Wonder what he wants.

Franklin waited until the man knocked on the door before he went into the front hallway to answer it. At first, he planned to step out on the porch to talk to him, but the wind had stiffened. So he invited the man into the entranceway, but no farther until he knew more about him.

"Dave Jefferson." The man held out his hand, the other holding saddlebags slung across his other shoulder.

He shook it, but still didn't move deeper into the house. "I saw you when you came in on the train."

Dave's eyes widened. "You're the rancher who had a herd you were sending back East."

"That's me. I'm not surprised you didn't recognize me. We were a little rough and dirty by the time we got there."

The men shared a laugh that broke the ice.

"What can I do for you?" Franklin slid his hands into the back pockets of his trousers and relaxed.

The other man cleared his throat. "I understand you're married to Mike Sullivan's widow."

Franklin stiffened. What did he want with Lorinda? "Yes." He didn't offer any more information.

"Could we sit down somewhere while I tell you my story?"

Did Franklin want to invite the stranger into the parlor? Not really, but something told him to do it anyway.

"Take off your coat and hang it up." He gestured toward an empty hook on the hall tree. "You can warm yourself by the fireplace."

After leading the way into the formal room, Franklin sank into one of the wingback chairs, the one farthest from the hearth.

Dave, still holding the saddlebags, took the one opposite and leaned even closer to the flames. "It's really cold out there."

"Yup, that time of year." Franklin propped one foot on the opposite knee and leaned back. "So what's this you mentioned needing to tell me."

Dave stared into the flames as if mesmerized. "It's not really a pretty tale, but it has a happy ending."

Franklin wondered what this man's story had to do with his family. "Go on."

"I used to be a scoundrel. Oh, I didn't murder anyone or commit a robbery or anything like that. But I did play poker, and I always won, because I was a slick cheater. No one ever caught me." A grimace accompanied that last sentence. "Real ornery."

Franklin wanted to get to the bottom line, but evidently Dave needed to confess. Brian had told him confession was good for the soul. He just hoped it wouldn't take too long.

"How does this affect me or my family?"

"I met Mike Sullivan before he made it to Denver to have his gold assayed." Dave wouldn't look at him.

Franklin dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward with his hands clasped between his knees. "And you swindled him out of his gold?"

Finally, the man's eyes met Franklin's. "Yes, sir, I did. Won every bulging poke from him. Was really proud of that, too. I'd never made so much in a single game."

Where was this man going with the story? Franklin stared straight into his eyes and didn't blink. He could out-stare him, if he needed to.

Evidently the saddlebags were filled with something fairly heavy, because Dave dropped them beside his feet and pulled them as close as possible.

"I'd made a good bit of money that night from the other men, so I took the gold to Denver and, after having it assayed, turned it into cash, which I deposited into a new account at Capital Bank of Denver. While I was in town, I met a rancher from western Oklahoma. He was looking for cowboys. I made a split-second decision to go with him and try out ranching. Too many people in Colorado were unhappy with me. I got out while the getting was good. Best decision I ever made."

This was some tale. "How so?"

"I really enjoyed ranching. The hard work was good for me, and I felt better about myself because I was making my way honestly. Both the rancher and his foreman really took to me. We became good friends. That old rancher gave me the best gift I'd ever received. He told me about Jesus, and I chose to give my life to Him. The rancher and his foreman and I had Bible study together every evening. Those two men helped me begin to grow toward the man I want to be for the rest of my life."

Franklin relaxed again. "That's good news. I'm a Christian myself."

"Then you will understand why I want to see your wife." Dave took a deep breath and stood up. "I'm on a pilgrimage to make restitution to every person I can find that I had wronged." He picked up the saddlebags. "All the money I got for the gold I won from Mike Sullivan is in these. $254,000."

Franklin quickly arose. "In cash ?"

"Every bit of it." Dave smiled. "I haven't let these saddlebags out of my sight since I withdrew the funds from the bank and headed this way."

A whistle burst forth from Franklin. "That's quite a story."

"It's all true."

"Why didn't you just come out here the day you arrived?" He really wanted to know where he'd been all this time.

"I was looking for Mike Sullivan. Since I met him at a poker table in a saloon, figured that's where I'd find him. I stayed in the background, watching and listening. I didn't want to make a big deal about it, since I was carrying so much cash." He glanced down at the saddlebags. "After visiting a different saloon each night, I made discreet inquiries and found out about him being murdered and you later marrying his widow."

Franklin had watched every expression and gesture the man made. He couldn't detect any indication the man was lying. Dave had kept eye contact through the whole recitation. No reason not to trust him.

"I'll introduce you to my wife, and we'll need to get that into the bank as soon as possible."

The story almost knocked him off kilter...and the money for Lorinda. Although most men would take control of their wives' money when they married, he had no plans to. It belonged to Lorinda and Michael, fair and square.

This brought him face to face with what a disservice he had done to her. She had a real need, and he'd talked her into this marriage of convenience. What would she do now that she didn't need his money...or protection?

If he didn't give her the option to stay with him or go, his treatment of her bordered on abuse of power. He used his money and power to talk her into marrying him for protection and a way to give her son a good life. He felt like less of a man because of it. And he was beginning to believe God wasn't pleased with him as well.

Last night when he was reading his Bible, he found verses in the seventh chapter of First Corinthians that made him uncomfortable. The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband: and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife. Defraud ye not one the other, except it be with consent for a time, that ye may give yourselves to fasting and prayer; and come together again, that Satan tempt you not for your incontinency.

These words cut straight through him like a sword of truth. He had been defrauding his wife even while in his thoughts he lusted after her, but still he withheld his love. Their marriage could not be what it should be unless he gave her the opportunity to decide for herself whether she wanted to leave him and get the marriage annulled or come together as a husband and wife should with love.

Dear Lord, what am I to do? I can't find the words I need to make this right. Please help me be able to express this to Lorinda without hurting her, but also allowing her the freedom to choose to stay or to go. Every one of those words hurt as if it was a thrust of a blade into his heart.

Could his life be more complicated? He didn't see how.