Whitaker House (March 1, 2012) 

 

I am inwardly fashioned for faith, not for fear. Fear is not my native land; faith is. I am so made that worry and anxiety are sand in the machinery of life; faith is the oil. I live better by faith and confidence than by fear, doubt, and anxiety. In anxiety and worry, my being is gasping for breath—these are not my native air. But in faith and confidence, I breathe freely—these are my native air.

—Dr. E. Stanley Jones

Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people He has chosen as His own inheritance. (Psalm 33:12)

A Look to the Past

• • The lion’s share of technological advances that occurred during the twentieth century—from automobiles to electric lights to television and radio to the computer and space travel—had their start in America.
  • During this same time, America’s industrial machine was second to none, pumping out volumes of manufactured goods for markets all over the world.

   

  • For most of that time, America was also blessed with remarkable agricultural production, an abundance that has been used to feed not only our own sizeable and ever-growing population but also many other nations of the world.

• • Our educational institutions were world renowned, raising generations of young people who were trained not only with life skills to succeed in business, industry, and elsewhere, but also with the precepts of righteousness and morality that are the foundation of any successful society.

 

The secret of my success? It is simple. It is found in the Bible: “In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy paths.”

—George Washington Carver

A Change of Heart

• • The nation’s job picture is bleak. As of August 2011, unemployment was 9.1 percent, with nearly fourteen million Americans out of work. How different from the nation in which previous generations raised their families and planned for the future.
  • Over the last thirty years, more and more Americans have gone into debt for nonessential luxury items. As of January 2010, Americans held more than 609 billion credit cards—or two cards for every American. In June 2011, U.S. consumer credit card debt reached $793 billion, with an average credit card debt per household of $15,799.¹ What a difference from the practice of thrift that previous generations of Americans have displayed.
  • With so many Americans in so much debt, it’s little surprise that in 2010, filings for personal bankruptcy exploded to more than 1.5 million people.²
  • On the housing front, where home ownership was once a carefully considered decision for previous generations, over the last several years, it has become an entitlement. Untold millions of Americans have gone into debt for homes whose mortgages far exceeded their incomes. As of July 2011, the national foreclosure rate had come down significantly since the financial crisis, down to 1 in every 111 homes. In my own state of Florida, however, the rate was even worse, with 14 percent of all homes actively in foreclosure.³
  • As the economy has faltered and families have lost their homes, homelessness has become a national epidemic. According to a 2007 study by the National Law Center on Homelessness and Poverty, approximately 3.5 million individuals in America are now homeless—1.35 million of them children.⁴
  • Just as the economy in crisis has impacted individuals, families, and communities, it has also devastated businesses and financial institutions. Long-established, respected banks, investment companies, and lending institutions—many considered “too big to fail”—have collapsed, while others survived only through the direct intervention of a government that is being increasingly stressed in its ability to provide the answers.

Family and Morality: A Changing Landscape

Destroy the family, and you destroy the country.

—Vladimir Ilyich Lenin

• • In many sectors of our society, marriage has become an option rather than a sacred trust. A study by the National Marriage Project found that cohabitation—couples living together outside the bond of marriage—has become so accepted in our society that an increasing number of Americans view it as a perfectly functional alternative to marriage. Their study quoted U.S. Census figures, which claimed that in 1997, there were more than four million unmarried couples sharing a household, up from less than a half million in 1960.⁵ A study conducted by the Institute for Social Research at the University of Michigan found that nearly two in five children will spend at least some time living with a parent and an unmarried partner.⁶
  • With such a casual approach to lifelong relationships, it is no wonder that the institution of marriage seems to be in absolute crisis throughout America. A recent study by the Barna Group found that one out of three Americans who has been married has also been divorced. As George Barna noted in the study, “There no longer seems to be much of a stigma attached to divorce; it is now seen as an unavoidable rite of passage.”⁷
  • Along with a drastic increase in divorce has come a wholesale redefinition of what marriage means in America. Several states have ruled that marriage can no longer be defined as only between a man and a woman. In some states, unions between two men or two women have been declared legally acceptable. One wonders if there will be any end to the redefinition of God’s most foundational building block for humanity.
  • Over the last thirty-five-plus years, children have become increasingly vulnerable and, in many cases, an inconvenience to people’s freewheeling lifestyles. The fact that, since 1973, over forty million precious babies have met their deaths through abortion represents a serious blight on our nation.

What Has Happened to Our Faith?

No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the invisible hand, which conducts the Affairs of men more than the People of the United States. Every step, by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation, seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency.…We ought to be no less persuaded that the propitious smiles of Heaven, can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right, which Heaven itself has ordained.

Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a reproach to any people. (Proverbs 14:34)

The Foundation for Success

Now it shall come to pass, if you diligently obey the voice of the Lord your God, to observe carefully all His commandments which I command you today, that the Lord your God will set you high above all nations of the earth. And all these blessings shall come upon you and overtake you, because you obey the voice of the Lord your God: Blessed shall you be in the city, and blessed shall you be in the country. Blessed shall be the fruit of your body, the produce of your ground and the increase of your herds, the increase of your cattle and the offspring of your flocks. Blessed shall be your basket and your kneading bowl. Blessed shall you be when you come in, and blessed shall you be when you go out. The Lord will cause your enemies who rise against you to be defeated before your face; they shall come out against you one way and flee before you seven ways. The Lord will command the blessing on you in your storehouses and in all to which you set your hand, and He will bless you in the land which the Lord your God is giving you. The Lord will establish you as a holy people to Himself, just as He has sworn to you, if you keep the commandments of the Lord your God and walk in His ways. Then all peoples of the earth shall see that you are called by the name of the Lord, and they shall be afraid of you. And the Lord will grant you plenty of goods, in the fruit of your body, in the increase of your livestock, and in the produce of your ground, in the land of which the Lord swore to your fathers to give you. The Lord will open to you His good treasure, the heavens, to give the rain to your land in its season, and to bless all the work of your hand. You shall lend to many nations, but you shall not borrow. And the Lord will make you the head and not the tail; you shall be above only, and not be beneath, if you heed the commandments of the Lord your God, which I command you today, and are careful to observe them. (Deuteronomy 28:1–13)

For thus says the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” But you would not,…Therefore the Lord will wait, that He may be gracious to you; and therefore He will be exalted, that He may have mercy on you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for Him. (Isaiah 30:15, 18)

Returning to the God of Our Salvation

Anything less than God will let you down.

—E. Stanley Jones

Are You That Individual?

I love to read books about the Amish lifestyle. The Keeper does not disappoint.

The Keeper is a story of taking care of family, lost love, and found love.

With the main story line of Julia and her wedding, there is a second story line of  heart disease and heart transplant. A heart donor comes from a most unlikely, heart wrenching place. While the events leading up to the donor heart being available are heart wrenching, the family accepts the donor heart with peace. Knowing that the donation is surely what the donor wanted, the family accepts the donation with a peace about them.

If you also like reading books about the Amish lifestyle, you’ll love The Keeper.

Thomas Nelson (January 3, 2012)

 

***Special thanks to Karen Baney for sending me a review copy.***

 

Wickenburg, Arizona Territory

August 19, 1865

The stagecoach bounced over the rough terrain.  Caroline Larson tried not to slide into the man sitting next to her on the hard, bare wood seat.  The least they could have done was put some upholstering on the thing.  Then she would not be jostled so much from the side against the window to the poor young man next to her.

Another jolt of the Celerity stagecoach shoved her into his side once again.

“Sorry,” she murmured, glancing at the young man.

“No harm, Miss.”  A smirk played on his lips causing the jagged scar on his right cheek to wrinkle unattractively.  She wondered how he got the scar.  The hint of laughter in his voice indicated he was enjoying this.

Caroline stifled a snort of disgust as she turned to look out the opening with a small canvas cover secured to the top of the window frame.  The dust billowing up from the front wheels obscured much of the view, filtering into the interior of the stage.  The small town—if one could call it that—of Wickenburg faded behind them.  The only good thing about facing the rear of the stage was that she did not have to endure a face full of dust with each breath.

The stage jerked violently, propelling the man across from her forward, landing awkwardly in her lap.  She turned her shocked green eyes towards him, narrowing them slightly until the red of embarrassment tinged his cheeks.  He offered profuse apologies as he tried to return to his designated seat.

She should have listened to Millie.  She and her father had acted as chaperones, escorting Caroline west.  Unfortunately, their travels ended in Wickenburg.  Millie and her father assured her they would take her the rest of the way to Prescott by mid-September. But, she had come this far and did not want to wait another month or more before being reunited with her brother Adam and her best friend Julia.

As the stage crossed over a huge bump, sending Caroline airborne for a few seconds, her mind returned to her present circumstance.  Despite Millie’s concern, she boarded the stage this morning headed for Prescott.  Things were just fine.  She could handle the inquisitive looks of these men.

Abruptly, the stage skidded to a halt, propelling Caroline into the arms of the man across from her.  Her almost apology died on the tip of her tongue.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Rifle fire echoed in her ears.  Her head snapped towards the window.  The driver fell from his perch on the front of the stage.  As she jerked forward, the young man with scar clasped his hand down on her arm.  She turned her eyes toward him.  He lifted a finger to his lips and shook his head.  He pushed her back against the seat, out of the view of the window.

“What’d ya do that fer?” another voice sounded.

“I told him not to reach for his gun.”

Caroline froze.  The stage was being robbed!

“Y’all come out slow like,” the first man shouted.

“Miss,” the man with the scar whispered.  “Let me go first to make sure it’s safe for you.”

A lump formed in her throat.  She watched as he exited the stage.  Maybe she had been too quick to judge him earlier.

“How many more of you are in there?” the first robber’s voice asked.

“Just four more,” the man with the scar answered.

That was not true.  There were four more men.  And her.  What was he doing?

“Come out nice and slow.”

The rest of the men did as instructed.  Caroline hesitated in the shadows, wondering if the scar-faced man—now she wished she would have asked his name—was trying to protect her.  Tapping her finger against her temple rapidly, she tried to figure a way out of this situation.  Scanning the landscape offered no solutions.  Nothing but vast open desert presented itself.  There was no place to hide.

For the first time in her eighteen years, Caroline had no solution.  No plan.

“Bart!” the first robber yelled.  “Check out the stage.  Make sure no one else is lurking around.”

She heard the distinct sound of a man dismounting a horse.  Moments later, shuffling feet sounded just outside of the stagecoach door.  Flattening herself into the shadows as much as possible, Caroline wished she had not worn her bright yellow dress this morning.  Her dark green would serve much better to hide her now.

“Looksee here,” Bart said with a broken toothed smile.  “Come here missy.”

He leaned in and caught hold of her foot.

“Unhand me,” she said before realizing she had destroyed any hope of hiding her presence from Bart’s boss.

As Bart tugged harder on her ankle, she slid off the seat, landing with a thud on the floor of the stage.  Kicking his face with her other foot, she freed herself long enough to make a somewhat graceful exit.  Bart’s beefy arms clamped around her shoulders as soon as her feet hit the ground.  He shuffled her to the line of passengers.

Bart flung her toward the scarred man who helped her earlier.  The force was so hard she lost her balance and landed at his feet with a whimper.  When he knelt to help her up, the robber cocked his pistol, stopping him in mid-crouch.  All she could see was the scar on the passenger’s face as she tried to control her breathing.  It wasn’t as noticeable now as it had been before.  For some reason, she found that comforting.

 

The air rushed from Robert Garrett’s lungs.  In all his life he had never been this lucky.  There was no mistaking those flashing green eyes.  The young woman Bart just pulled from the stage was definitely Caroline Larson.

As his lackey, Bart, pushed her forward, she fell at one of the passenger’s feet.  Robert cocked his gun, leveling it at the passenger.

“I think she can stand on her own,” he said, covering his momentary shock.

When the passenger made no further move to help her, Robert pointed his gun at Caroline.  His sinister smile hid behind the red bandana covering his face.  She straightened with that defiant look she always had etched haughtily on her face.  He would relish wiping that expression away later.  He had to finish the business at hand first.

He spoke with an exaggerated accent to further disguise his identity, not that Caroline would recognize his true identity if she saw his full face.  “Now, I want y’all to empty your pockets of all yer valuables and place ‘em in the bag Bart has.  We don’t want no trouble, so just do as yer told.  Otherwise, I might decide to empty my pistol into this little gal.”

Robert plotted his next move, while Bart went down the line taking all the valuables from each of the passengers, including Caroline Larson.  He hated her blasted brother, Adam, almost as much as he hated Will Colter.  Almost.  Patience.  You’ll have your revenge soon enough.

A slow plan was always much better than a hurried one.  In fact, robbing this stage had been a bit hurried—it’s how he ended up doing it himself, instead of hiring it out.  It was a dangerous move to get his hands dirty.  After this, he would distance himself from the execution of his plans.  Too risky.  But, if he hadn’t been here, he wouldn’t have seen Caroline and the ideas taking shape in his head would be a missed opportunity.

First things first.  He had to finish this job then rendezvous with his other men.  He would have his associate pay off Bart before taking the stage horses to La Paz to sell.  He would instruct his associate to return to the stagecoach, where he would leave Caroline alive, and have his associate fetch her and take her to the small shack on the outskirts of his property.  He’d let the men have fun with her, as long as they kept her alive.  He needed her if he was going to ransom her for money.

Oh, Adam Larson wouldn’t have anywhere near enough funds to rescue her.  That would be part of the fun.  And it would be what would force Will Colter to get involved.

The best part was that no one would have any idea he was involved in any of this.  He would clean up, shave, and change into his fine clothes after his meeting with his associate.  Then he would head back into Wickenburg and spend the night at the hotel before heading out to Prescott tomorrow as the respectable Robert Garrett.

Inwardly, the swell of anticipation for the next phase of his revenge sent giddy shivers up and down his spine.  He would come back despite all that Colter and Larson took from him and he would do it while destroying them. 

 

When Bart stopped in front of her, Caroline realized she would need to part with her items as well.  Slowly she unfastened the broach her mother gave her and let it slip into the bag.  Then she emptied her reticule, thankful she had taken the time to discretely hide half of her money elsewhere on her person this morning.

Once the man had a full bag, he began dumping luggage from the back of the stage, littering things everywhere.  He picked through her trunk, strewing her clothing on the dusty ground.  Finding nothing of worth there, he went to the next trunk.  After several minutes ticked by, he announced he was finished with his search.

Then the boss man dismounted his horse.  He came straight towards her.  With a small bandana in his hands, he shoved her over to one side of the stage.

“What are you doing?” the scarred man asked, making a move towards the robber.

The robber turned and shot him.

Caroline gasped as the man’s body fell limp in a pool of blood.  As his face relaxed, the scar became almost invisible.  A tear trickled down her cheek.

“Any more questions?” the robber asked.  When no one moved, he added, “Good.”

He turned her back towards him, pushing her face into the side of the coach.  She tried to struggle, but stopped when he pressed the barrel of his pistol against her neck.  When she stilled, he yanked her hands behind her back and tied them together with the bandana.  Then he shoved her to the ground.

“Stay,” he commanded.  “And don’t give me no trouble.”

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she watched helplessly.  He unhitched the team of four horses from the stagecoach.  He barked another command to Bart, who then led the remaining four men to the other side of the stage.

At the first rifle shot, Caroline jumped.  Looking through the undercarriage, she saw two of the men who sat across from her lying in a heap on the ground.  Blood soaked their clothing and the odd angle of their bodies suggested they died from the same shot.  Two more rapid rapports of a pistol were followed by the harsh thud of another man hitting the ground.

Tears streamed down her face as she heard the pleas of the last man.  The echo of a rifle cut off his cries.  Glancing over to the other side of the coach, she saw his body land on the others. 

Karen Baney (April 17, 2011)

Karen Baney, in addition to writing Christian historical fiction and contemporary novels, works as a Software Engineer.  Her faith plays an important role both in her life and in her writing.  Karen and her husband make their home in Gilbert, Arizona, with their two dogs.  She also holds a Masters of Business Administration from Arizona State University.

 

Star C Ranch, Texas

July 4, 1864

“You cannot be serious, Reuben!” Julia Colter shouted, not caring that she might wake her niece and nephew from their afternoon nap.  Pacing back and forth across the length of the kitchen, she stopped in front of her older brother, her temper flaring almost as hot as the stove.  “He is balding and fat and twice my age!”

“You will marry who I say!” Reuben thundered.  “I expect you to treat Mr. Hiram Norton with the upmost respect this evening.  He has shown great interest in you and the least you can do is be civil with the man.”

“But, I could never love him!”

As Reuben shoved her violently up against the wall, Julia’s breath left her lungs in a rush.  Digging his fingers into her arms, she could feel the bruises starting to form.  His brown eyes darkened with unrestrained anger as he glared down at her.  She swallowed in fear, stunned by his abrupt action.

“Stop, you’re hurting me,” she said, trying to break free from his vice like grip.

He raised his hand as if he meant to strike her—something he had never done before.  The action startled her to silence.  Instead of hitting her across the face, as she thought he might, Reuben returned his hands to her upper arms squeezing even harder.

Leaning so close the heat of his breath warmed her cheeks, he said, “You have no idea what hurt is, Julia.  You are an insolent little whelp.  You will paste a smile on that tart little face of yours.  And you will do your best to win his affections or,” his voice menacing, “you will suffer my wrath, the likes of which you have yet to see.”

Releasing his hold, he pushed her so that she tumbled to the floor in a heap.  As he turned to walk away, he added in a sinister tone, “It would be best if you get used to the idea of Hiram Norton and give up fanciful notions of love, dear sister.  You will not have that luxury.  The sooner you come to accept that, the better it will go for you.”

She sat in stunned silence as Reuben stalked to his office down the hall.  Tears streaming down her face, Julia bolted to her feet, running out the front door of the ranch house to the nearby stables, still frightened by her brother’s brutal behavior.

The smell of hay and horse assaulted her delicate senses as she selected a gentle mare.  Throwing her saddle on the horse’s back, she led her from the barn.  Once under the open blue skies, she shoved one foot into the stirrup, swinging her other leg over the mare, riding astride.  Nudging the mare into a full gallop, Julia fled to the one place she would always feel free—the back of a horse in the wide open pastures.

Reuben may be her guardian now, but she had only to endure a few more years of this before she would be of age and in control of her life.  If only she could stop him from marrying her off before then.

At seventeen, she considered herself too young to get married, though many women her age and younger married.  She wasn’t ready.  She didn’t pine for the responsibilities marriage entailed.  She liked her freedom.  But, when she was ready to marry, she would marry for love and not because Reuben wished it.

Certainly, she would never marry Hiram Norton.  The thirty-seven year old rancher was the exact opposite of what Julia wanted for a husband.  His short stature and fading hairline made him look even older.  He had a reputation for loving excess.  When it came to food, his waistline showed the results of that love.  There were other unsavory aspects to his reputation as well which included rumors that he frequented the saloon and brothel.

No, the man for Julia would be young and handsome.  His character would be impeccable, his honor undeniable.  Land, money, and wealth held no importance to her.  She only cared that her dream man would be able to provide for her and their family.

As the wind tangled her long, sandy brown curls, she continued to press the horse for more speed—needing it to soothe her fear and anger.  In the distance she saw the herd of longhorns kicking up dust.  The sight sparked a memory of Will, the kinder, more honorable of the Colter brothers, sending her mind racing in another direction.  So many times he’d taken Julia out to the pasture, teaching her how to rope, ride, and work with the cattle.  Some thought such behavior unacceptable for a lady.  She was glad to learn these skills.  Should her handsome young dream man end up being a rancher, he might appreciate her ability to work the ranch by his side.

Why hasn’t Will written? The thought of Will brought fresh tears as memories of his hasty departure flooded her mind.  Not only had she buried her father, but she also lost the brother she was close to—all within a few short weeks.  Almost a year ago, following her father’s death, Reuben forced Will to leave the ranch when he had been deeded the house and ranch.  While Will and Reuben both received half of the herd and the financial holdings, Will was left with no home or land.  Unable to find anything close, Will moved to the Arizona Territory, leaving Julia behind.  Alone.

The only time she heard from him was in November 1863.  Will wrote that he, his men, and his cattle arrived safely and set up their new home near the Granite Creek settlement in the Arizona Territory—wherever that was.  No other letters came.

Despite the thirteen year age difference between Will and Julia, they adored each other.  She followed him everywhere, never far from his side even when he worked with the herd.  When she needed protecting, it was Will who came to her defense.

Oh, how she could use his protection now.  If he were here, he would stop Reuben from forcing her to marry that awful Hiram Norton.

But, he wasn’t here.  He was in a distant territory, far from Texas, far from her aid.  Her father left her in Reuben’s care—not Will’s—even though Will would have been the better choice as far as Julia was concerned.

Their father never saw the evil that clouded Reuben’s heart and he knew nothing of his manipulative ways.  In her father’s eyes, Reuben was as good of a son as Will.  If her father knew of Reuben’s late nights in town or of his forceful tactics for bankrupting other ranchers and taking over their lands, he turned a blind eye.  She found it hard to fathom that father could have missed such thinly concealed behavior.

As the mare started to struggle for breath, sides heaving with great effort, Julia eased up the pace.  She was so torn.  She had thought more than once to runaway to Arizona, but was afraid Reuben would find her and drag her back.  Now he wanted her to flirt with Hiram Norton and get him to marry her.  She had no desire to do what Reuben was asking.  Mr. Norton may be wealthy, but he was twenty years older than her.  There was something indecent in that alone.  Nothing about him or his character appealed to her.

Realizing she was nearing the outer pasture, Julia turned the mare around to head back to the ranch house.  She did not want to risk angering Reuben further by being unprepared for their dinner guests.  Lord, please don’t make me have to marry that repulsive man.  Will always said you could work things together for good.  I am not seeing much good right now.  Please give me the strength to make it through this evening meal.

As she pulled the mare to a stop in front of the stables, she slid off the horse.  One of the young cowboys, Bates, took the reins from her hand.

“Miss Colter, you best hurry,” he said, nodding toward the lane leading to the ranch house.

A cloud of dust at the far end of the lane indicated their guests were already arriving.  Julia shot a quick word of thanks to the friendly cowboy before picking up her skirts and running to the house.  As she threw the door open, panting for breath, she caught Reuben’s seething look.

Rushing down the hall she slammed her bedroom door shut.  She splashed some water on her face, wiping away the dust from her ride.

“Where have you been?” Mary’s panicked voice preceded her entrance into Julia’s room.  Reuben’s normally calm, quiet wife seemed rather anxious as she picked up the corset she laid out.

“Riding.”

“Whatever for?” came the squeaky, agitated response.

Julia tore off her day dress, tossing it over a chair.  As Mary came to assist her with the corset, Julia took her last deep breath of the evening.  She hated the confining contraption.  Once the stays were tightened, she lifted her arms as Mary helped settle the lovely yellow silk down over her shoulders.

“You should have been in here an hour ago,” Mary lamented.  “Now there is no possible way we can fashion your hair into ringlets.  The other women will think you don’t care about your appearance.”

They would be correct, Julia thought.  “You fret, too much,” she replied, brushing out her tangled curls.  She would be content with twisting her unruly hair into a chignon, despite how much it fought against the pins.

“Go on.  I’ll finish,” she instructed Mary, hoping to have a quiet moment to compose herself before entering the fray.

Mary hesitated for a brief moment before softly exiting the room.  Taking as deep a breath as she could, Julia let it out in a heavy sigh.  Undoubtedly, Hiram Norton was already here, waiting for her in the other room.  Pasting a smile on her face, she squared her shoulders and left the solitude of her room.

“Hiram,” Reuben said as Julia approached, “I do not believe you have met my sister, Julia.”

It took every ounce of courage to hold her smile steady and extend her hand towards Mr. Norton’s rotund frame.  Taking her hand, he placed a sloppy kiss on top, before asking, “Reuben, where have you been hiding this lovely filly?”

Filly? The distasteful comment sickened her.

“Mr. Norton, a pleasure to meet you,” Julia said with more decorum than she thought she possessed.  As soon as his hold lifted, she discretely wiped the back of her hand on her dress.

“Miss Colter, you are absolutely stunning,” he replied, allowing his lustful gaze to rove over her neckline, down her curvy figure, making overtly inappropriate stops along the way.

She fought to tamp down her mounting abhorrence.  As the guests were seated around the table, she eagerly helped Mary set out the food.

Still irritated by Mr. Norton’s uncouth comment, she decided to fight back as she took her seat.  “Mr. Norton, my brother tells me you have been very successful with your ranch, despite the Union’s blockade.  Tell me, how do you do it?”

Reuben’s eyes narrowed slightly, letting her know he caught her barely hidden sarcasm.

“My lovely Miss Colter, such matters are too complicated for your simple mind to understand.”

Another mark against Mr. Norton—condescension towards women, she thought, keeping the sweet smile firmly in place.  Lobbing a spoonful of potatoes on her plate she waited for him to continue.

“However, I shall endeavor to enlighten you,” he said with an air of superiority, snatching the potatoes from her hand.  “While the Union may have blockaded our route to drive cattle to the New Orleans market, they have made no such effort to stop us from driving to points north or west.  It seems that as long as we aren’t supplying the Confederate Army, they care little where we sell our cattle.  We have simply changed our route north to the railways in Missouri.  While I don’t care for the Union and their imposing ways, a profit is a profit.  And I have made significant gains by being one of the first Texans to sell to eastern markets by way of Missouri.”

“Mr. Norton.”  As her irritation rose, Julia retorted, “If a large profit is to your liking, why not drive the cattle west towards the California market where prices are more than triple that of the eastern markets?”

Reuben shifted in his chair uncomfortably.  His darkening eyes warned her to hold her tongue.  Julia knew she should have heeded the warning, but she preferred being forthright.  Let Mr. Norton find that out now.

Mr. Norton laughed off her question, causing her to dislike the man even more.  “You are a spirited little woman, I will give you that.  But your comment shows your youth and your naivety.”

Taking not one, but two large pork chops from the platter she handed him, he said, “While the prices west are much higher, so is the cost to drive the cattle such a great distance.  The length of time it takes to drive the cattle to California is almost three times as long as the northern route.  It is also much more dangerous.  There are many more Indians and cattle thieves westward.  It would simply not be profitable to drive the herd west.”

His snooty tone grated on her nerves.  When she opened her mouth to speak, Reuben interrupted.  “Perhaps, dear sister, you should leave the business matters to men.  I’m sure you would be much more interested in knowing how Mrs. Withers’ new baby is faring.”

Mrs. Withers quickly picked up the conversation, monopolizing both Julia and Mary’s time.  While Julia was surprised Reuben even knew the woman had a child, she was thankful for the opportunity to ignore Mr. Norton.

As the conversation continued, she felt something brush against her knee then move away.  She kept her focus on Mrs. Withers’ overlong description of her young son and on eating the meal, until she felt the unmistakable presence of a man’s hand move above her knee.  She stole a glance and confirmed Mr. Norton’s hand rested most inappropriately on her thigh.  Angling her legs further away from him as discreetly as possible, Julia’s stomach churned.  When Mr. Norton pressed closer, she thought she might lose her dinner.  The man appeared to have no limits.

Standing abruptly, she said, “If you’ll excuse me.  I’m not feeling quite myself.”  Without waiting for a reply she hurried to her room.

 

Reuben scowled after his sister.  Her behavior had been completely unacceptable, despite his attempt earlier in the day to reason with her.  This silly idea of marrying for love must have worked its way into her thinking from the stories their father told of their mother.  No one married for love.

He certainly hadn’t.  While Mary was pleasant looking enough and easy to control, he did not love his wife.  He had married her to increase his social standing among the area ranchers—something his father never seemed to care about.  Her father had been one of the wealthier men in the area and he was easy to win over.  In fact, Reuben thought, most everyone he met was easy to manipulate—except Will and Julia.

It didn’t matter.  Will was gone and out of the picture.  He was no longer a nuisance, even though it was Will’s fault that he was in such a financial mess.  The timing of Will leaving with half the herd and half the financial holdings was disastrous, leaving him unable to pay debts to some very powerful men—a situation he was desperately trying to resolve.

The last bite of his pork chop churned in his stomach as fear gained a foothold.  He needed Hiram’s money from the marriage arrangement to Julia.  It was his only hope of turning things around.

As his guests finished the meal, Reuben stood.  “Gentlemen, shall we retire to the front porch for some refreshments and cigars?”

The men eagerly nodded, obviously wanting to be away from the women as quickly as he did.  As Hiram stood, Reuben pulled him aside.  Speaking loud enough for the others to hear, he said, “We’ll join you in a moment.  Hiram and I have a few business matters to discuss.”

Leading Hiram back towards his office, Reuben hoped Hiram would still be amiable to the agreement they discussed several days ago at the saloon, despite Julia’s less than enthusiastic attitude this evening.

Before he offered a seat, Hiram took one, starting the conversation on his terms.  “Julia is quite lovely, Reuben.  You’ve been holding out on me.  When you asked for such a large sum, I assumed she must be dreadful to look at.”

“So you are pleased?”

“To a point,” Hiram admitted.  “While she’ll keep me entertained well, she needs to learn to control her tongue, especially in front of guests.  I’m surprised you haven’t dealt with this already.”

Reuben frowned.  If only Hiram knew what he was up against.  With any luck, he wouldn’t find out until after his wedding day.  “Well, father has only been gone a short time.  He doted on her, so it will take some time to get her to properly respect a man.”

“Ah, there’s the catch.  I’ll have to train her myself then.”  Hiram laughed.  “It will be a fun challenge—breaking her.  Too bad you didn’t have more time to do the job yourself.  You could get a much higher price for her, as beautiful as she is.”

The price he was asking was enough.  Normally prone to greediness, when it came to selling his sister’s hand in marriage, he felt it prudent not to get too greedy.  He was running out of time and needed to pay his debts soon.  Once that pressure slackened, he could focus his energy on rebuilding his wealth.

A brief hint of remorse came over Reuben.  Had he stooped so low that he was selling his sister for money?  But, it was not as if he were selling her to a brothel.  No, he was just selling her to a wealthy rancher.  She would live in luxury.  What could be bad about that?

He knew living with Hiram Norton would not be pleasant.  The man had a reputation for being ruthless to his business associates, to his women, and even to his mother.  He had no limits.  He made Reuben look like a saint.  Julia would undoubtedly be miserable married to him until she learned her place.

Chiding himself, he refocused his attention back to what Hiram was saying.  He needed this man’s money, not a sudden case of conscience.

“After we have our cigars,” Hiram was saying, “then, I will take Julia for a walk.  See if I still fancy her.  When I return, we will announce our engagement.  It will be short.  No longer than a month.”

Reuben held back a gasp.  He hadn’t expected Norton to want a short engagement.  “You know what the townsfolk will say with such a hurried wedding.  They will think my sister has been compromised.”

Pulling a large stack of bills from his coat pocket, Hiram slammed it down on the desk.  “I don’t think you will care too much what is said about your sister’s reputation.  Who knows, what they say may end up being true anyway.”

The dark look on Hiram’s face sent shivers down Reuben’s spine.  Ruthless seemed rather inadequate of a word to describe the man before him.  He had to make sure Julia did not ruin this deal, for he did not want the added pressure of Norton’s anger.

 

Mary knocked on Julia’s door not more than ten minutes after she left the meal.  Her voice was timid when she spoke, “The men have retired to the front porch for cigars.  Reuben requested that you return to the parlor with the women.”

Sighing, Julia did as instructed.  She listened to the gossip of the rancher’s wives and wished her friend Caroline Larson was in attendance, so she might actually be able to enjoy the evening.  The Larsons owned a ranch to the east of the Star C and they had been long-time family friends.  Up until last year, before father passed away, the Larsons were always invited for every social gathering—sometimes they were the only guests.  Since then, Reuben saw little use for Mr. Larson’s moral ways and only included them on rare occasions to pacify her or his wife.

Not paying attention to the boring conversation, Julia missed seeing the men return from the outdoors.  Mr. Norton’s hand on her forearm jolted her from her thoughts.  “Miss Colter, I was hoping you might take a walk with me.”

“And who will be acting as chaperone?” she replied curtly, not wanting to be alone in his presence.

Mr. Norton laughed, a sound she was beginning to detest.  “Silly girl, I am much too old for a chaperone.  I assure you, your reputation will be safe with me.  I simply want to stroll for a few moments with a beautiful woman on my arm.”

Julia thought a stroll might be too much for the man.  He was sweating profusely and seemed to have difficulty walking the distance to the door, as his breath came in short, heavy bursts.  She looked to Mary for support.  She smiled and nodded her approval, oblivious to Mr. Norton’s reprehensible behavior.  As Reuben stood next to Mary, his eyes narrowed with a silent warning.  Heeding the unspoken message, she stood and accepted Mr. Norton’s arm.

Outside, the air barely cooled in the waning sunlight, causing Julia to grow warm in a matter of seconds.  She wished she thought to grab her fan when a sour odor wafted from the man at her side.  Averting her face, she tried to catch an untainted breath of air.  Unsuccessful, she decided parting her lips to breathe through her mouth might be preferable.

Nearing the stables, Mr. Norton stopped abruptly, turning towards Julia.  The quick motion—seemingly impossible coming from the man who seemed to struggle walking much of a distance—frightened her.  Sucking in air quickly through her mouth, a slight tickle lingered in the back of her throat, almost bringing on a cough.

When he spoke, his voice took on a sinister edge.  Even in the dimming light she could see the contempt in his eyes.  “Miss Colter, while I admire your feisty spirit,” he said as he grabbed her wrists, “It would serve you not to embarrass me again, especially by questioning my business practices in a room full of my peers.  I can make your life most unbearable if you cross me.”  Without warning he pulled her close and crushed his mouth down on hers as his hands took great liberty in exploring her body.

The shock of his action took a moment to register.  Once it did, Julia brought her booted heel down hard on the top center of his foot, just as Will showed her.  He dropped his hold instantly, crying out in pain.  As he limped toward her, she ran for the front of the house to put some distance between them.  Tripping over something, she stumbled, giving Mr. Norton time to catch up.  He grabbed her bruised upper arms with surprising strength.

“Do not ever do that again,” he said in a hostile tone.  “Do you not know that Reuben has promised you to me?  Make no mistake, Miss Colter, I am a powerful man.  If you want to live a decent, peaceful life under my roof, you best lose some of your haughtiness… Or, I will take whatever measures necessary to force it out of you.”

Julia blinked, trying to absorb all that he said.  Was he saying that Reuben already agreed to her marrying this loathsome man?  An ominous chill swept over her as he continued his intense stare.  Her heart beat rapidly within her chest as her panic rose.  She could not—would not—marry this dreadful man.

Dropping his hold on her, Mr. Norton extended his arm and placed her hand in the crook.  “Smile,” he commanded as he limped to open the front door.

While her smile came insincerely, his seemed quite pleased.  He crossed the room slowly, still favoring his injured foot, before stopping in front of Reuben and Mary.  “Reuben, it gives me great pleasure to announce that Julia has eagerly agreed to accept my offer of marriage,” he said smugly.  “She was so delighted that she agreed to a short engagement.  We will be married in a month.”  His fingernails dug into her arm daring her to speak otherwise.

The smirk on Reuben’s face told her this had been their plan all along.  Such a public announcement, even though it was completely false, would be difficult to break.  Lord, help me.  I cannot marry that man.

Erwin W. Lutzer

Photographed by:

John and Debora Scanlan

Why Walk with God?

When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world.

Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

John 8:12

A tour through a cemetery can be beneficial and educational. I like to read epitaphs because they often say something interesting about the person who is finished with this life and has gone on to the next. Maybe epitaphs should be required reading for everyone once a year. They are a reminder that life is short and that eternity is near.

Most epitaphs are serious, some are tragic, and yes, there are at least a few that are funny. I’m told that this poem is found on the tombstone of a lady named Anna Wallace in England:

The children of Israel wanted bread.

The Lord sent them manna.

Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife.

The devil sent him Anna.

Here is a poem I learned in grade school, though I doubt it is on a tombstone—it could be. It contains an important message about automobile safety:
Here lies the body of William Jay,

Who died while maintaining his right of way.

He was right, completely right as he sped along,

But he’s just as dead as if he’d been wrong!

My favorite epitaph is found in the Bible, embedded in a long list of genealogies in the fifth chapter of Genesis. To read these verses is like walking though a cemetery. The names are difficult to pronounce and we are left to guess what life was like so many centuries ago. Like the tolling of a bell, every tombstone bears the same message; six times we read the simple phrase “and he died.”

Then unexpectedly we discover that there was a man who did not die! His name was Enoch, and of him we read in verse 24, “Enoch walked with God; then he was no more, because God took him away.” Twice we are told that Enoch “walked with God.” In fact, He walked with God right into heaven!

This epitaph is perhaps one of the most beautiful phrases in the entire Bible. If it could be said of you and me that we “walked with God,” nothing more need be said. Those few words contain an eternity of meaning.

An Invitation to the Journey

Walking with God is both difficult and simple. Difficult because it takes thought, discipline, and commitment; simple because the same characteristics that apply to walking with a close friend or a loved one apply to walking with God.

Enoch walked with God in the midst of a society filled with temptations and obstacles just like those we face. He is a powerful reminder that we can be faithful to walk with God in our day as well. When we accept the invitation to begin the journey, trials and distractions need not keep us from our time with the Almighty.

Interestingly, Enoch was motivated to begin this journey after his first son Methuselah was born. Maybe he felt a new sense of responsibility as he held the baby boy in his arms. Perhaps as the child reached out to touch the stubble of his father’s beard Enoch said to himself, “I need to reorder my priorities and begin to take God more seriously.” Evidently he realized that the greatest contribution he could make in life was to guide his family on the right path.

Spend some moments reflecting on what motivates your heart to walk with the Lord today. Have you faced a trial and found yourself ready to give your sorrow to God? Do you long to leave a legacy of faith for your children? Maybe you’ve been in fellowship with the Lord for many years and you are ready for refreshment. Together we can explore how to walk with God and embrace the meaningful, remarkable, and abundant life He has planned for you. Let’s take a step forward toward the light of life.

You have declared this day that the LORD is your God

and that you will walk in his ways, that you will keep his decrees,

commands and laws, and that you will obey him.

And the LORD has declared this day that you are his people,

his treasured possession as he promised, and that

you are to keep all his commands.

Deuteronomy 26:17-18

Help for the Journey

I’ve often thought about what others might say of me after I die. I don’t mean the beautiful eulogies often given at funerals. Instead, I wonder what people will really think—what they will really remember about the impact for good or ill I have had in their lives. God of course, will give the final evaluation, but imagine our legacy if it could be said that we “walked with God.”

If an epitaph were written for you today, what would it be? Are you satisfied with that? What do you hope you will be remembered for?

Consider Jesus’ simple invitation to brothers Simon and Andrew referenced below. Think about how wonderful it feels to have Jesus call to you today in the same, simple way. What is your response to Jesus as He waves to you and says, “Come, follow me?”

As Jesus walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men” (Mark 1:16-17).
God provides what you need each step of the way. What worries or weaknesses do you want to give to God—need to give to God—in exchange for His hope and renewing strength?

Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.

They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:30-31
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

Psalm 119:105