Chapter Eleven #2
The promise was offered so naturally that Ruth found herself smiling. “I’d like that.”
“And I imagine Henry needs reminding that he hasn’t escaped me.”
James laughed. “Good luck with that.”
The pastor winked. “I’ve been trying for years,” he said. “And I am not going to give up yet.”
The exchange eased something deep inside Ruth. For so long, life had felt like a battle simply to survive. Now, she found herself standing among people who expected nothing from her except her presence. People who welcomed her and who cared. The feeling was so unfamiliar that it almost hurt.
The congregation began to settle into the pews as sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating worn hymnals, weathered faces, and children who struggled to sit still. Ruth sat beside Lola and James and found herself looking around with quiet wonder.
As the final families found their seats, Pastor Luke stepped forward. “Good morning, friends.” A chorus of greetings answered him and his weathered face brightened. “It is a blessing to see each of you here today,” he said. “Both the old faces and the new.”
His gaze briefly passed over Ruth and the smile he offered was warm enough to make her feel welcome immediately. “We shall begin with hymn number sixty-three.”
The congregation opened their hymnals and a moment later the church filled with music.
The voices were not polished. Some sang beautifully, others less so. Several children lagged behind the melody entirely. Yet together they created something lovely.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound...”
The familiar words wrapped around Ruth like a blanket and for a moment she was no longer a frightened woman hiding behind another person’s name. She was simply a child of God.
When the final verse ended, Pastor Luke offered a prayer before opening his Bible. “The Scripture this morning comes from Galatians, chapter five.” The rustle of pages filled the sanctuary. Pastor Luke adjusted his spectacles and then he read aloud.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” Pastor Luke closed the Bible. “Most people hear this passage and immediately focus on the first word.”
Several heads nodded. “Love.” His smile widened. “Which is understandable. Love is a beautiful thing.”
Soft laughter moved through the congregation. “But I wonder if we sometimes overlook the others.” He began walking slowly before the pulpit. “Because if we’re honest, many of us would prefer patience without having to wait.”
More laughter followed. “We’d like kindness without difficult people.”
Ruth smiled.
“And we’d certainly like peace without first enduring hardship.” The pastor’s expression softened. “But that is not how fruit grows.”
The sanctuary grew quiet. “No farmer plants a seed in the morning and harvests fruit in the afternoon.” Several ranchers nodded knowingly.
“Growth takes time.” His voice gentled. “God often works the same way within us.”
Ruth leaned forward as Pastor Luke continued.
“Some of you are carrying grief today.” His gaze moved across the congregation. “Some are carrying fear.” A pause. “And some are carrying burdens no one else knows about.”
The words struck her like an arrow as her fingers tightened around her Bible. The secret she was carrying suddenly felt very heavy indeed.
Pastor Luke rested both hands upon the pulpit. “And yet, God has not abandoned you.”
His voice rang through the church. “The same Lord who walked beside Elijah in the wilderness walks beside you.”
He opened his Bible again. “And he arose, and did eat and drink, and went in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights...” Pastor Luke looked up. “Elijah was frightened. He was weary. Discouraged. Running for his life.”
Ruth immediately thought of her own flight from Devil’s Hollow.
“But God did not leave him there.” The pastor paused again. “Instead, God strengthened him for the journey ahead.”
A lump formed in Ruth’s throat as the words felt meant for her. As though the Lord Himself had arranged for her to hear them.
Pastor Luke smiled gently. “Friends, faith is not believing life will be easy,” he said, looking out across the congregation. “Faith is believing God remains faithful even when life is hard.” A murmur of agreement spread through the room. “Sometimes we cannot see where the road leads.”
Ruth’s breath caught.
“Sometimes we are asked to step forward without knowing what waits around the next bend.” The pastor’s smile deepened. “But Proverbs tells us: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
The familiar verse washed over her. It was the one she had repeated countless times before boarding the train. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
Around her, members of the congregation listened attentively. Several older women nodded. A rancher removed his spectacles and discreetly wiped his eyes. A young mother bounced a sleepy child on her lap.
They were all just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. Trusting God through ordinary struggles. And somehow, that comforted Ruth more than anything.
Pastor Luke closed his Bible again. “Perhaps there is someone here today who feels uncertain about the future,” his voice lowered. “Perhaps someone wondering whether God truly sees them.”
Ruth swallowed.
“I assure you, He does.” The conviction in his voice left no room for doubt. “He sees your fears. He sees your sorrows. He sees the road ahead, even when you cannot.”
The room was still, as if it was holding its breath.
“And if you will continue walking with Him, one step at a time, you may be surprised by the blessings waiting around the next corner.”
When the sermon ended, the congregation rose for the final hymn and this time the voices seemed even stronger. Ruth sang through tears she could no longer entirely hide.
***
By the time they returned to the ranch, the afternoon sun sat high overhead and heat shimmered across the fields. The wagon rolled into the yard beneath a brilliant blue sky. Grasshoppers leapt from the roadside grasses as they passed, and somewhere near the barn a horse whinnied softly.
Henry was repairing a section of fence near the corral when they arrived. He looked up briefly as the wagon approached and then returned to his work. The sight disappointed Ruth more than it should have.
As James helped Lola down, she found herself walking toward the fence. Henry did not look up as she approached.
“It was a lovely service,” she said.
Henry did not respond.
“Pastor Luke preached from Galatians about the fruits of the Spirit,” she continued. “I think you would have enjoyed it.”
Henry grunted, still not turning to face her. After a moment, she turned to go. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said.
The words were polite enough, yet there was an edge beneath them.
Ruth hesitated and then turned back to him.
“Lola enjoyed the lesson on kindness and patience,” she said. “Perhaps next time—”
Henry drove a nail into the fence post so hard that it drowned out the rest of Ruth’s words.
“Not everyone finds comfort in sermons,” he said. “And I don’t appreciate you filling Lola’s head with all that nonsense.”
The abruptness startled her and she blinked. “It’s not nonsense—”
“Maybe not to you,” he snapped. “And I don’t care to be preached at.”
“I was not preaching at you,” she said, her own voice hardening. “I was only trying to have a conversation.”
“Well, it’s not a topic I care to talk about,” Henry retorted.
For a moment, she simply stared at him.
“And I don’t care for Lola to attend church again.”
“She enjoyed it,” Ruth argued. “And it’s good for her—”
Henry dropped the hammer and walked up to her so quickly that she flinched. He was so close that she could smell the sweat on his skin and the wood on his hands. His green eyes glowered at her and Ruth’s breath caught in her throat.
“You don’t get to march in here and tell me what’s good for her,” he said, his tone hard. “You are not her mother.”
“I-I know that,” Ruth stammered.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, a flash of regret moved across Henry’s face and he stepped back, shaking his head.
The silence stretched awkwardly between them and finally Ruth lowered her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he admitted.
“You didn’t,” she lied.
Then, without another word, she turned and stalked back toward the house.
***
The remainder of the afternoon passed quietly, at least outwardly. Inside, Ruth’s thoughts refused to settle. She could not shake the argument she had had with Henry that morning. Nor could she forget the sudden flash of anger in his eyes or the way he had crossed the distance between them.
Her hands paused over a basket of freshly mended clothes. Henry’s reaction had seemed far larger than the conversation itself. The anger was older than that and much deeper.
It reminded her of her father in some ways, though the comparison felt unfair. Frank Turner’s bitterness had grown from selfishness and drink. Henry’s seemed born from pain.
She carried a stack of folded linens to the hallway and paused beside the window.
Outside, Henry was still working. The afternoon sun beat down on the pasture, turning his shirt dark with sweat as he repaired fencing near the corral.
Even from a distance, his movements looked sharper than usual.
More forceful. As though he were trying to pound his frustrations into the wood itself.
A small ache settled in her chest as Ruth looked down at her hands.
After everything that Henry had been through, she knew that church was difficult for him.
But it was not just Henry who troubled her, it was Lola.
The child stood caught between grief and loneliness, wanting affection but afraid to trust it.
And then today she had laughed in church.