Shannon promised God a host of things as she galloped Ginny along the road toward Boise. It didn’t matter that her father had taught her from the time she was a small child that one doesn’t bargain with the Almighty as one would barter with a street vendor. “We ask because of His mercy, Shannon,” he’d said. “We trust because we know He loves us. Does a father give a child a stone when he asks for bread?”
But the lifelong lessons were lost on Shannon now. She would do anything, promise anything, that might allow her to find Matthew and tell him she loved him and wanted to be with him for the rest of her life.
It seemed as if she’d been riding for an eternity. She’d left Grand Coeur as soon as was humanly possible after the stage thundered back into town with the news of the shooting and robbery.
Please let me find him. Please let me find him.
The young express messenger—wounded and bleeding—had managed to bring the stage back to Grand Coeur as the driver lay dying beside him. He was the one who’d told her Matthew had fallen at a sharp bend in the road.
A bend in the road. A sharp bend. But there are so many of them. Help me, God. Please help me.
How far ahead of her were the sheriff and his posse? Might they have seen Matthew, stopped to help him? But Jack Dickson had left town soon after the telegram from Idaho City was received. Even if the posse had met the coach on its return, they might not know about Matthew. They were after the gang of Confederate thieves, not a wounded employee of Wells, Fargo & Company.
Let me find him, God. Let me help him.
How far behind were others from Grand Coeur who would join in the search for Matthew? Would the doctor be with them?
Please let the doctor be with them.
Because of the months she’d worked in the army hospital in Virginia, Shannon knew a great deal about gunshot wounds. She could write a long list of things that could go wrong with a patient who’d been shot. And all of those things that could go wrong swirled in her mind in time with the pounding of Ginny’s hooves on the dirt road.
Then she saw a bend up ahead. A sharp bend. That had to be it. That had to be it.
“Matthew!” she cried. “Matthew, can you hear me?”
She pulled back on the reins and dismounted before the mare had come to a complete stop. She stumbled and nearly fell, caught herself, and hurried on to the edge of the road, her eyes scanning the hillside that fell away to the creek below.
“Matthew!”
Panic threatened to overwhelm her. Where was he? Was she mistaken? Wasn’t this the bend the messenger had told her about? Had she already passed the place where Matthew had fallen? Or was it farther south from here? Should she go back or ride on?
“Matthew!”
And then she heard it. A groan? A gasp? A sigh? So soft she couldn’t be sure she’d heard it at all. No, she was sure. She moved along the edge of the road until she saw him. Her heart skittered crazily in her chest as she rushed, slipped, and slid down the loose dirt and shale until she reached him.
Dropping to her knees, she spoke his name again, softly this time. “Matthew.”
He looked up at her, pain and confusion mingling together in their blue depths. “Shannon?”
“Yes, it’s me.” She wanted to cry but refused to let herself give in to tears. Not when he was in need of her care. “Don’t move. Help is coming. You’re going to be all right.” Make it true, God. Please make it true. “I love you,” she added, needing him to know her feelings before he drifted back into unconsciousness—or worse.
Matthew wasn’t sure if he was living or dead because some of the people he saw in this dimly lit place—was it a room? was it a cave? was it heaven?— were living and some were dead. Alice was there, looking pale but happy. Todd was there, tearful and scared but trying not to show it. The reverend was there, praying for him, encouraging him. His parents were there, smiling but never speaking. The doctor was there, telling him to lie still.
And Shannon was there. Shannon was always there. Holding his hand. Wiping his brow with a cool cloth. Giving him sips of water. Whispering that she loved him.
He must be dead. He could hardly believe she would say those words if he were alive.
Shannon had stopped trying to make deals with God and, throughout the rest of the day and the long night that followed, had instead thanked the Lord time and again for sparing Matthew’s life. Now, as pink and golden ribbons of daylight began to wiggle and stretch across this room, she felt a great need for the Almighty’s forgiveness and for the power from His Holy Spirit to change.
Lord, forgive me for my willfulness. Forgive me for being so quick to judge others. Forgive my foolish, foolish temper. Forgive my pride.
“Shannon.”
At the sound of Matthew’s voice, she straightened in the chair, her eyes flying open. “Matthew.” She took his right hand between both of hers.
“Where am I?”
“At the parsonage. In Father’s room. We wanted to take care of you, and Father thought it best that we bring you here.”
Matthew grimaced and a soft groan escaped his lips. Then, after a long pause, he said, “The driver?”
“Mr. Jefferson died.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected that would be her answer. “What about the kid?”
“Do you mean Barclay Jones?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s fine. He was wounded, too, but not terribly. It was Mr. Jones who drove the stage back to Grand Coeur.”
“And the passengers?”
She leaned closer. “We can talk about all this later. You should rest.”
“The passengers,” he said, determination in his tone.
“No one else was hurt.”
He closed his eyes for a short while, and she wondered if he’d slipped off to sleep again. But he soon opened them, this time asking, “Did the robbers get away with all the gold?”
“No.” She gave him a little smile as she pressed his hand between hers. “They didn’t get away with it. The sheriff and his posse ran them to ground. One robber was shot and killed. Three more were captured, along with the treasure. The leader and another man escaped, but not with any of the gold shipment.” She could tell him later about Joe Burkette’s involvement and how the sheriff in Idaho City had been able to give some warning of the thieves’ plans. Enough that the posse could recover the gold. Enough so that Matthew’s life was spared.
His expression softened. “I never expected it to be you who came looking for me.”
“I had to find you. I had to tell you that . . . that I love you.”
“So I wasn’t dreaming that?”
“No. No, it wasn’t a dream.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I was such a fool. To get so angry. To not give you a chance to explain. To be so quick to judge. To let my stupid pride be wounded.”
Another twinge of pain tightened his features. When it had passed, he said, “I loved you before I knew I did. But Alice knew.” He released a sound that was part laugh, part grunt. “My sister was always smarter than me.”
“She was smarter than me too.”
“Will you marry me, Shannon? Not for Todd’s sake. For mine.”
Although her heart leapt at his words, she said, “We can talk about that when you’re better.”
“I’ll get better faster if you say yes.”
“Then yes.”
He smiled, already looking stronger. “You didn’t say that as my nurse, did you? Just to make me well?”
“No.” She returned the smile. “I said it because I love you.”
He released a breath, his eyes drifting closed. “Good.”
Words from the Bible whispered in her heart: “Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.”
Oh, she knew those words of the Savior had far deeper meaning than giving her the desire of her heart. But she had asked for Matthew’s life, and it had been given her. Even before she’d asked, God had seen and known and designed it all so that she would find herself in this place, in this moment, loving him.
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights.”
“Thank You,” she whispered before leaning back in her chair, closing her eyes, and resting in Him.