Chapter 9 #2
“That’s the word, though, right?” Gerri said, handing her coffee. “Seems. Jesus says in John 16:33 that in this world we’ll have trouble. But in Him, we have peace. And we should remember—even find confidence and hope in—the fact that He has overcome the world.”
“What does that even mean? I’m telling you, I meet a lot of people who don’t see Jesus overcoming in the world where they live. And yes, I believe, but…”
“He’s triumphed over sin, death, and most of all, evil. Safety isn’t just a mortal concept—it’s an eternal one too. And often God reminds us of His power in the eternal by showing up in the mortal.”
“It feels like a losing battle.”
“Only because you feel like it’s up to you to win it. It’s not. Your job is to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. That means you don’t get to decide the outcome. God does. Your eggs are getting cold.”
Right.
“Gigi!”
The voice sounded behind Selah, and she glanced over her shoulder to see a little girl running into the room, long blonde hair in braids, wearing a dress, cowboy boots, and dirt on her face and knees.
“Rosie!” Gerri headed for a hug.
But standing in the great room—and who knew how long he’d been there?—was North. He met Selah’s gaze, just stared at her a second before smiling, slowly.
She frowned.
Another man had come in with him. Tall with dark hair, a big Montana aura about him. He wore a denim shirt and jeans. “Hey, Ma. Knox is heading up here with his new breeding bull. Just wanted you to keep Rosie out of the yard while he’s unloading it.”
“Will do, son. Is Hardwin out there?”
“He’s setting up the chute.” The man nodded at Selah, grinned at RJ. “Sis.”
“Reuben.”
“Gilly will be up later, with Winston.” He glanced at North. “Thanks for the help with the goat.”
The goat.
North nodded and walked over to the counter. “Baby goats in the barn. They got out. The mama didn’t quite want to go back in.”
“Sit down, North. Need an elevensie?” Gerri said. She’d already propped Rosie onto a chair, was pouring her chocolate milk from the fridge.
Oh, to have this wonderful, big, chaotic life. The sense of it swept through Selah, and as North pulled up a chair next to her, looking a little rumpled but rested, all she could think about was his kiss last night.
The one that had her also thinking of forever.
Gerri poured North a cup of coffee. “Cream?”
He shook his head. “Gorgeous spread here. How many head do you run?”
“About twelve hundred, give or take. It’s mostly Hardwin and Reuben and a couple hands. Knox runs his breeding business here too.”
“Breeding?”
“Bulls, for the rodeo market. He’s director of livestock operations for Nbr-X, the professional bull-riding tour. But he sells the bulls around the world. He and his wife, Kelsey, and my grandson live just down the road.”
“Did you sleep in the RV?” Selah asked.
North glanced at Gerri. “She offered me a room, but…I just…maybe it’s not a good idea for everyone to be in one location.”
Oh.
Please, let her not have brought trouble here. Although, it had been RJ’s idea to come here. And why would Alan Martin follow them here? If the story was right, he wanted York, not RJ. And certainly not Selah.
“I still can’t believe that James and Alan Martin are the same person.”
“Believe me, you’re not the first woman he’s deceived,” said RJ. “My cousin Iris was nearly killed by one of his plots. As was Tate, who was shot because Alan set him up.”
“Your family has quite a history with this man.”
“You have no idea,” said Gerri. She pulled a warmed cinnamon roll from the microwave and set the plate in front of North.
He dug in. “This is amazing, Mama G,” he said.
Gerri grinned. “I like him.”
“Because he eats like a ravenous bear?” Selah said, grinning at him.
“Yep. You’re welcome anytime, North. And you know, you don’t have to sleep in that old RV. I have plenty of room upstairs. Reuben and Knox’s old room is empty, as well as Tate and Ford’s room—”
“Who’s giving away my room?”
RJ turned, and Gerri looked up, and Selah’s gaze landed on a well-built man wearing a pair of cargo pants and a thermal shirt, hair cut short, holding hands with a pretty gal with reddish blonde hair, in leggings, Converse tennis shoes, and an oversized T-shirt.
“Ford. Seriously,” RJ said. “What, we’re calling in the Army now?”
“Navy. Navy—let’s get it right.” He opened his arms for his sister and pulled her tight.
Selah saw him whisper something into her ear.
She held on a little tighter.
“Scarlett,” Gerri said and went to greet Ford’s fiancée. Selah had met her a few times at Ham’s place. She worked for his team behind the scenes.
“Hey, Selah,” Scarlett said after Gerri released her. She dropped her backpack by the door and came over. “You okay?”
“Getting better by the second.”
Scarlett gave her a hug. “You scared the life out of all of us. Next time, buy a cell phone.”
“I did. It doesn’t work.”
“Lemme see it.”
Selah slid off her chair, then started for her room and stopped. “It’s in the RV.”
She headed past them, outside, to where the Winnebago parked in the driveway.
A cattle trailer had pulled up to a gate, and another man stood with Reuben, older, dressed in jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat—the uniform of the Marshalls, apparently—directing as yet another man stood at a closed door, holding on to a rope. A ramp led down from the trailer.
“Ready?” said the man holding the rope.
“You better run,” said Reuben.
He laughed and opened the door with a tug.
A bull came raging out of the cattle trailer so fast that Selah nearly screamed. The other man darted behind him, shut the door, locked it, and turned a second after the bull had rounded.
Oh no.
The bull lunged.
The man dodged it, lost his hat, but picked it up and turned to face the animal again. “Whoops.”
“Please,” Reuben said, shaking his head. “You do this on purpose.”
“I like to stay in shape.”
The bull charged again, and this time the man leaped for the fence, scrambling up, then falling over the other side.
The older man caught him. “Knox, I swear, if you were my son, I would have taken a switch to you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Reuben said. “Dad did. But Knox has an iron backside. And he was a rodeo clown for a couple years on the circuit.”
“We call that a bull fighter,” Knox said, picking up his hat. He spotted Selah, nodded, pulling on the brim of his hat. Walked over to her.
Blue eyes landed on her with warmth. “Knox Marshall.”
“Selah Silver,” she said and shook his hand. “That was crazy.”
“Nuts,” said Ford, walking out of the house, followed by Scarlett and North.
Selah heard North introduce himself to Knox as she headed to the RV, climbed into the passenger side, and picked up her phone.
She opened it. Pressed the power on.
The battery had almost died. But there were two bars of service. Huh. She needed to charge it. She opened up the console between the seats to dig out the charger Josephine had given her.
The canister, the one the size of a Stanley cup, sat snug at the bottom. She pulled it out.
Her heart thumped. What?
“What’s that?” North said, walking over to her.
She got out, slammed the door. Looked at North. “I don’t know. It was…I found it in my backpack at the B&B, and then it was gone, and I saw James—er, Alan—with it, putting it into the seat of the ATV. Or maybe not…I don’t know. But I think it might belong to him.”
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know.” She took a look at the lock. “Let’s get something to pry it open.” She handed the canister to North.
“I have a knife,” said Knox, walking up and pulling out a switchblade. He handed it to North.
North took it, made to slip the knife between the seal and the cup—
“Stop! For the love—stop! Stop!”
Scarlett ran up to them and nearly pushed North over, grabbing the canister out of his hands. She cradled it to herself, backing away, breathing hard. “Are you trying to kill us?”
* * *
Well, no. I wasn’t trying to kill anyone, thank you, so everyone just calm down.
At least, that’s what he wanted to say to Scary Scarlett, who’d morphed from a rather sweet asset on their team to, well, probably the former spec-ops support person she was.
Bossy.
From deep in his brain, however, the words Ham had spoken to him earlier found their way to the surface. He should have remembered the warning, the connection between the canisters and the train explosion.
So, thank you, Scarlett. Because, yes, maybe she’d saved all their lives as she set the canister down on a picnic table in the backyard.
He loved this place. Loved the smell of the grasses mixed with the scent of faraway cattle and the hay in the barn.
And he even liked the silly baby goats. He loved the grandeur of the mountains in the distance and the expansiveness of the land.
But also the sounds of the children laughing, and the sense of family and legacy.
This. This was what he wanted with Selah, and that had never been clearer to him than this morning when he’d walked in on her in the kitchen.
When he’d heard the tail end of the ladies’ conversation, starting with Selah’s admission: “It feels like a losing battle.”
But Mama G’s words had sunk inside. Only because you feel like it’s up to you to win it. It’s not. Your job is to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. That means you don’t get to decide the outcome. God does.
That was the connection between justice and mercy, maybe. The way a person like him could live in peace.
“Okay,” Scarlett said as RJ, Ford, Knox, Reuben, Hardwin, and Selah stood around the picnic table. “So as far as we can tell, the train was carrying canisters of obsidite. Like these. They were packed in suitcases, under guard, and when the train was attacked—”
“Attacked?” Reuben said.
“I’ll catch you up,” Ford said. “Go on, Red.”
“When it derailed, the cases went flying. Some of them opened. When the Bratva—”
“The Russian Bratva? As in the mob?” Knox said. “We’re back to that?”
North had no idea what he meant.