Page 32 of The Heart’s Charge

“Ruby looks more disgusted than captivated,” Kate said, a smile in her voice.

“I don’t know. Seems to me like she’s both.”

Mark turned to study the woman at his side. Love for the children in her care emanated from her like rays from the sun. It warmed him. Drew him in. Brightened his outlook on life. Even as it made him realize that if they had married all those years ago, neither of them would be the people they were today. He wouldn’t have met Captain Hanger, the man who turned him from a wild kid with a thirst for reckless adventure into a hardened cavalryman with a purpose beyond himself. And Kate—well, he couldn’t imagine her being anything less than extraordinary, but he had to concede that her joining Miss Southerland in this ministry had lent a depth to her spirit, a maturity that he found even more attractive than the vivacious girl he remembered.

“You seem happy here,” he observed.

She grinned, her gaze hovering over the children. “I am.” Her face softened into a more introspective mien. “After you left, I think I lost myself a bit. Friends distanced themselves from me to guard their reputations. My relationship with my mother deteriorated. She was so angry at me for turning down your offer, convinced I’d thrown away my life for no good reason. Your parents never blamed me for your leaving, but everyone else in town seemed to. Westfield no longer felt like home. It was just . . . a place.”

A lonely place, by the sound of it. A heaviness settled over Mark as he listened to her tale. He’d been so consumed with his own hurt, his own need to escape and forget, that he’d never allowed himself to imagine what things had been like for her, living in the aftermath of scandal.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he ground out between clenched teeth, disgust at the selfish youth he’d been tingeing his tone with bitterness.

“No.” Kate turned to him and clasped his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Mark. I knew what I was doing when I made my choice, and even now I wouldn’t unmake it. Not when I can see how God used those years of loneliness for good.”

How could loneliness be good?

She must have read the question on his face, for a small smile curved her lips. “A strange thing happens when you find yourself on the outside of society. You start to see the world from a different perspective. Satan uses loneliness to isolate and depress. But God uses it to build compassion.”

She sat back, her gaze drifting to the sky. “It took me a few years to get over my self-pity, I’m ashamed to say. I focused so much on what I had lost that I failed to appreciate what I still had. Good health. More wealth than most of the inhabitants of Westfield. And a heart that God was actively reshaping at his potter’s wheel.” She shook her head a little, her eyes lighting with a happy memory. “Do you know there are people who don’t care a fig about a woman’s reputation? Hunger, sickness, ostracism—people afflicted with such things care only about a warm meal, healing medicine, and a compassionate touch. Once I pulled my head out of the sand, I realized I was not the only lonely person in Westfield. I was one of many. Most of whom were far worse off than myself.

“Mother refused to allow me to tend the sick, fearful I’d catch some contagion and spread it to the rest of the family, but she couldn’t stop me from befriending the hurting. Instead of sitting in my parlor alone with my needlework in the afternoons, I started visiting various widows in the area and plied my needle in their company. Some would chatter; others would work their own embroidery in silence. One elderly lady whose eyesight was failing had me read aloud to her, usually from the Bible. Many times she would quote passages as I read them, her knowledge of the Word inspiring me to spend more time in the Scriptures myself. And as I did, I felt a stirring within my soul calling me to something bigger. To a ministry that focused on the least of these.

“A few months later, I attended a revival meeting that emphasized mission work. The preacher delivered a rousing sermon, urging members to lend their financial support to one of the organizations whose representatives were in the missions tent. The sermon highlighted the Great Commission and our call to spread the gospel to every nation. People flocked to the missionaries raising funds to carry the good news to foreign lands. Others proved eager to support medical outreaches and charities geared toward helping the poor. But as I wandered through the tent, I steered clear of the crowds, seeking the fringe instead. That’s when God led me to Eliza. She was so passionate about discarded children and the foundling home she believed would serve them. Her ministry was small compared to the others. And she was a single black woman. Easy for many to discount and ignore. Most visitors that day passed by without even pausing to listen.”

“But not you.” Mark’s heart swelled as he pictured Kate slowing her step, smiling in encouragement, and asking pertinent questions.

“No,” she said softly, her face radiating with something beyond physical beauty. “I made an outright pest of myself, I’m sure. It’s a miracle she agreed to let me visit her in Texas. But I knew I had to come. God had opened a door for me, and nothing was going to stop me from walking through it.”

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Augustus tossed his head for the second time in as many minutes. He was antsy. Not surprising when the woman behind Jonah radiated enough tension to rival fencing wire. He needed to find a way to help her relax before Augustus started sidestepping. The jerky gait wouldn’t bother Jonah, but any unexpected movement was bound to send Miss Eliza into a panic.

Maybe if he got her talking . . .

“So how’d you and Miss Palmer meet up?”

No response.

All right. Maybe a little prod to her pride would get her going. “Seems like an odd partnership.”

Her arm twitched at his waist, and the sudden circulation of cool air against his shoulder blades testified to the removal of her cheek. “Why is my partnership with Katherine any odder than your partnership with the Horsemen? We work together, using the different skills and talents we possess, to accomplish shared goals. Isn’t that how the Horsemen operate? Or do you think us incapable of working well in tandem because we’re female?”

Jonah bit back a triumphant grin.

“The Horsemen bonded during wartime,” he said, ruthlessly keeping all amusement from his voice. “I know kids can be a handful, but it’s not exactly the same as dodging bullets while trusting the man beside you to keep you alive.”

“You think not?” Air flow traveled a little farther down his back as her indignation separated them a hairsbreadth more. “Try facing down condescending donors who are certain their ideas are better than yours or navigating the political tightrope when black churches want to provide funds only for needy black children and white churches want to provide only for white. If I didn’t trust Katherine to watch my back while I watched hers, Harmony House would have closed its doors years ago.”

Eliza’s hold on him loosened just a little, and her body relaxed enough to begin finding the rhythm of the horse. Augustus seemed to sigh in relief.

“So did she start out as one of them do-gooders who thought she knew better than you? I bet she came out here from back East with a passel of naïve ideas and wrongheaded notions.”

“I thought so when I first met her,” Eliza admitted, “but she quickly proved me wrong.” Her torso became more pliant behind him, and he couldn’t help wondering if she were smiling. “The summer of 1889, I traveled from gospel meeting to gospel meeting all over the East Coast, trying to drum up financial support for Harmony House. I had given up teaching in order to start a foundling home in this area, determined to create a place where no child would be turned away. Black, white, Mexican, Indian—none of that mattered. Healthy, sick, abandoned, orphaned—Harmony House would be open to all.”

Admirable goal. Yet one fraught with political dynamite. For if all children were treated as equals, what did that say about the adults they represented? Yet who better to champion the cause of children from multiple walks of life than a woman whose own childhood straddled two worlds?