Chapter Twenty-Two
Sleep did not come easily. Ruth lay beneath the patchwork quilt with her mother’s Bible resting upon the bedside table beside her, her mind refusing to settle.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Gideon sitting astride his horse beneath the morning sun, his expression calm, almost pleasant, as though he had merely called upon an old friend.
“I’ll give you until the end of the week.” The words echoed relentlessly. She turned onto her side, pulling the quilt a little higher against the unexpected chill that had settled over her, though the summer night remained warm beyond the open window.
Outside, the ranch slept peacefully. Crickets sang in the long grass and somewhere beyond the creek, a coyote called into the darkness. Ruth closed her eyes again, and eventually, exhaustion overtook her.
She stood once more in Devil’s Hollow. The sky hung low and grey above the little mining town, smoke curling endlessly from the chimneys until the air itself seemed too heavy to breathe. The narrow streets were empty, save for Gideon Walker waiting outside her father’s house.
He smiled. “You’re late.”
Ruth turned to run, but her feet would not move. They felt rooted to the earth. Behind Gideon stood her father, his face hard and unmoving. “You’ll do as you’re told.”
She tried to answer, but no sound came. The front door of the house opened, only it was no longer her childhood home. It was the ranch.
Henry stepped onto the porch with Lola stood beside him, one small hand tucked into his. Henry looked at Ruth with quiet confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She tried to call out to him, to run to him. But Gideon stepped between them.
“You don’t belong here,” Henry said, moving forward. “I think you should leave.”
Gideon laughed and Ruth’s blood ran cold. “You don’t know what you’re protecting.”
The wind rose suddenly, carrying dust across the yard until Ruth could scarcely see. Henry disappeared into the swirling haze. “Lola!” Ruth cried.
The little girl’s frightened voice answered somewhere in the darkness. “Nora!”
Ruth stumbled toward the sound and then a gunshot shattered the silence. She screamed.
Ruth awoke with a gasp. For several moments, she could only sit upright in bed, one hand pressed against her chest as she struggled to separate dream from reality.
Moonlight spilled through the window and the room was still. She drew a trembling breath and reached instinctively for her Bible. Clutching it against her chest, she bowed her head. Yet, even as she prayed, the terror remained. Not because of the nightmare itself, but because Gideon had found her.
***
Morning dawned bright and cloudless. Golden sunlight spread across the prairie, setting the tall grasses aglow as though each blade had been touched by fire.
Dew clung to the vegetable garden behind the house, and meadowlarks sang from the fence posts while the ranch slowly awakened to another ordinary day.
Ruth stood at the kitchen window watching Henry cross the yard toward the barn with a bucket in one hand and a coil of rope over his shoulder.
He paused to scratch Buck behind the ears before disappearing inside.
Nothing about him suggested he knew danger had ridden onto his land the day before.
Nothing about Lola’s cheerful humming as she set the breakfast table suggested her little world had shifted.
Only Ruth carried that knowledge and it felt impossibly heavy.
She stirred the porridge without really seeing it.
The spoon circled the pot again and again while her thoughts tangled themselves into knots.
She had promised God she would tell Henry the truth and she had meant every word.
But now, she no longer knew whether doing so would protect him... Or place him directly in Gideon’s path.
She could picture exactly what would happen.
Henry would listen and his expression would darken.
Then, because he was Henry, he would saddle his horse without another thought and ride after Gideon.
He would never allow another man to threaten someone beneath his roof.
It was one of the things she admired most about him.
And one of the things that frightened her now.
Gideon had never been a man who accepted defeat gracefully. He preferred to win by wearing others down, by finding the weakness they loved most and pressing upon it until they yielded. If Henry challenged him…
Ruth closed her eyes. She had seen what pride and wounded possession could do to Gideon Walker.
She remembered the laborer who had dared dispute the wages Gideon offered at the timber yard.
By week’s end the man had found himself dismissed, his family turned out of their company cottage before winter had fully broken.
Gideon had never raised his voice. He had simply smiled and that smile frightened her more than shouting ever could.
What if Henry confronted him? What if Gideon decided to make an example of him? Her gaze drifted toward the window again.
Lola had wandered outside carrying a small tin pail, determined to gather eggs before breakfast. The child stopped to admire a butterfly resting upon the fence before continuing toward the henhouse, entirely unaware that a shadow had fallen across the peaceful life she loved.
Ruth’s throat tightened. It was not only Henry she feared for. It was Lola. The little girl had already buried her mother. She had already learned grief far sooner than any child should. Ruth could not bear the thought of her losing someone else.
She rested both hands upon the edge of the table.
Every path before her seemed to lead toward heartache.
If she remained silent, she continued deceiving the man she loved.
If she confessed everything, Henry would almost certainly place himself between her and Gideon.
If she fled, she would break Lola’s heart and perhaps Henry’s as well.
No choice appeared clean. No choice seemed free of suffering. For the first time since leaving Devil’s Hollow, Ruth felt completely unable to see the next step. She bowed her head.
“Father...” The prayer came quietly. “I don’t know what to do. I have tried to choose what is right, and still every road seems to lead toward pain.” She clasped her trembling hands together. “I am afraid.”
The admission felt strangely freeing. “I am afraid for Henry.” She swallowed. “I am afraid for Lola.” A tear slipped onto the wooden tabletop. “And I am afraid that my own mistakes will bring harm to people who have shown me nothing but kindness.”
Slowly, Ruth opened her Bible where it rested beside her. Her eyes fell upon words she had not intended to read. “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore will not we fear...”
She read the verses twice, then a third time and while the fear did not disappear, it no longer felt quite so lonely. She closed the Bible gently and drew a long, steadying breath.
She still did not know what she would do. She only knew that whatever lay ahead, she could no longer face it in her own strength alone. God would have to lead her one step at a time, because for the first time since arriving at the Foster ranch, she could not see where the path before her led.
***
By the following afternoon, the walls of the ranch house seemed to press in around Ruth.
She had spent the morning moving from one chore to the next, scrubbing the kitchen floor, hanging freshly washed linens beneath the warm Texas sun, and gathering vegetables from the garden she had planted only weeks before.
Her hands remained busy, but her thoughts refused to be still.
When she realized the flour barrel had nearly emptied and the coffee tin held only enough for another day or two, she volunteered to ride into Weatherford for supplies. Henry offered to go instead.
“No,” Ruth said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I’ve finished all my chores, and besides, Lola has been looking forward to helping you mend the fence.”
Henry studied her for a moment before nodding. “If you’re certain.”
“I am.”
Within the hour, she was driving the small wagon slowly along the familiar road into town, the autumn breeze carrying the scent of dry grass and cedar across the prairie.
Weatherford bustled with its usual afternoon activity. Wagons rattled over the dusty street, merchants called cheerful greetings from their shop doors, and ladies in neatly pressed calico dresses paused outside the milliner’s window to admire ribbons recently arrived from St. Louis.
The ordinary sights should have comforted her. Instead, they only reminded her how ordinary her own life had become. How deeply she belonged here.
She purchased flour, sugar, lamp oil, and a small sack of coffee beans before making her way toward the general store’s porch to settle her account. As she waited for Mr. Abernathy to wrap the purchases in brown paper, something pinned to the notice board beside the entrance caught her eye.
Several handbills fluttered gently in the breeze. A church social, a missing mule, a ranch hand seeking employment. But one notice, written in neat black script, stood out among the rest.
Respectable young woman sought for domestic service. Room and board provided.
Good references required.
Mrs. Eleanor Whitcomb, Ash Creek
Ash Creek lay nearly thirty miles away. It was far enough that Gideon would be unlikely to think of looking there. But it was also far away from Henry and Lola, from everything she had come to love. Her heart tightened painfully.
Leaving. The thought had haunted her ever since Gideon rode away. But now, seeing the notice before her, it no longer felt like an impossible idea. It felt... Possible, painfully so.
If she disappeared quietly, Gideon would have no reason to trouble the Foster ranch again.
Henry would never have to meet him and Lola would remain safe.
And when the truth eventually came to light, Henry would be spared the humiliation of discovering that his marriage had never truly been lawful in the first place.
She rested one gloved hand against the wooden post beside the notice board.
She had prayed to go for a sign, for some way forward and perhaps this was it.
Maybe it was His way of telling her that loving someone did not always mean staying.
Sometimes it meant walking away before your presence brought them harm. The thought broke her heart.
Mr. Abernathy handed her the parcels. “There you are, Mrs. Foster.”
She thanked him softly before her eyes drifted back to the advertisement. “Mr. Abernathy...”
He looked up.
“Would you happen to have writing paper?”
He smiled. “Certainly.”
Moments later, he placed a single sheet of cream stationery, an envelope, and a pen before her at the small writing desk kept near the front window for customers wishing to conduct correspondence.
“You may use the ink, if you like.”
“Thank you.”
When he returned to his counter, Ruth remained seated for several long moments. Her hands rested motionless upon the blank page. She had written many letters in her life, never one that felt quite so final. Slowly, she dipped the pen into the ink and the nib trembled ever so slightly as she began.
Mrs. Whitcomb,
I recently learned of your advertisement seeking a housemaid.
If the position remains available, I respectfully wish to offer my services.
I have experience in housekeeping, cooking, baking, laundering, gardening, and caring for children.
I can provide a reference from Pastor Luke Matthews of Weatherford, should you require one.
If you find me suitable, I would be grateful to hear from you at your earliest convenience.
Respectfully,
Miss. Ruth Turner
The last name blurred as tears gathered in her eyes. She blinked them away before they could fall upon the paper. She folded the letter carefully, slid it into the envelope, and addressed it exactly as the notice instructed.
In a town like Weatherford, there was no home delivery. Letters were left with the postmaster, who sent them on the next mail coach bound for neighboring towns. Mr. Abernathy accepted the sealed envelope with a courteous nod. “I’ll see it’s taken to the post office before this evening’s dispatch.”
Ruth forced a smile. “Thank you.”
As she stepped back into the sunshine, an ache settled deep within her chest. The letter was gone and there would be no calling it back now.
She climbed onto the wagon seat and gathered the reins, but instead of driving immediately, she sat for a moment staring down the quiet street. Am I doing the right thing?
She honestly did not know. Only that every path before her seemed to ask for sacrifice.
***
The ride home felt much longer than the journey into town.
The familiar prairie stretched endlessly beneath the afternoon sky.
Meadowlarks lifted from the grass as the wagon passed, and the wind bent the tall bluestem into gentle waves of silver-green.
It was beautiful and it was home. But soon, perhaps, it would belong only to memory.
By the time the ranch came into view, Ruth had almost convinced herself she was acting wisely. Then Lola came racing across the yard. “Nora! You’re back!”
She nearly skipped with excitement as Ruth climbed down from the wagon. “You’ll never guess!”
Ruth smiled, though it took effort. “What happened?”
“I beat Tommy Jenkins at spelling today!” Her eyes shone with pride. “I spelled ‘beautiful’ without missing a single letter.”
“Did you?”
Lola nodded so enthusiastically that her bonnet nearly slipped from her head. “And Miss Carter said my handwriting’s getting much better.”
Ruth’s heart swelled. “Oh, Lola, that’s wonderful.”
“I knew you’d be pleased.”
“I am.” More than the child could possibly know.
Lola reached for one of the grocery parcels. “I’ll help carry these.”
“Thank you.”
Together, they walked toward the house and Lola chattered happily the entire way. She talked about school and Buttercup. About the robin building a nest near the barn. About everything and nothing. Ruth listened. Laughing where she ought to laugh and praising every small achievement.
Yet, each cheerful word felt like another thread binding her heart more tightly to the place she had already begun preparing herself to leave. When they reached the porch, Lola slipped her small hand into Ruth’s.
“I’m glad you came to live here.”
Ruth stopped walking. “So am I.”
The words caught in her throat. She was glad she had come. Glad she had known Henry and Lola. Glad she had experienced, however briefly, what a godly home might feel like.
Which made what she had done that afternoon hurt all the more.
As she looked at the little girl beside her, one question echoed painfully through her mind. How could she possibly walk away from the family she had prayed for all her life?
Yet if leaving was the only way to keep them safe, how could she stay?