Love's Forgiveness by Mildred Colvin

Author:Mildred Colvin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, christian romance, christian fiction, oregon trail, northwest frontier, prairie romance, pioneer romance, romance 1850s
Publisher: Mildred Colvin

Chapter 12

Clay woke before first light. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he’d slept the entire night. Every sound from the sigh of the wind to a brief shower during the darkest hour had him lifting his head, listening for Abigail’s screams. She’d screamed his name yesterday. Had anyone else noticed that? He shook his head and rolled from bed.

Even before dressing, he crossed to the window and looked out at Abigail’s cabin, standing dark against the lighter sky. The serene scene that met his eyes made a sharp contrast to the fear that had taken over his heart yesterday when he heard Abigail’s first scream. Something had to be done.

Clay swung from the window and knelt beside his bed. “Lord, give me guidance. She won’t marry me. What can I do? The territory is full of men who’d be eager to take Abigail as their wife. Some good men—some not fit to touch her hand. It isn’t just her they’ll be after, but her established claim.”

The Indians might be the least of Abigail’s worries if she didn’t soon marry an honest man. Fear filled his heart at the thought. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the image of what could happen to Abigail and her precious little girl if the wrong man convinced her to marry him.

Yes, something had to be done, and since she wouldn’t marry him, he’d have to see that she married a man who would respect and care for her and Christina. Although it tore at his heart, there was no other way.

He grabbed some work pants and pulled them on. Next, he slipped a shirt over his head and rolled up the sleeves, not bothering to tie the closure at his neck. Socks and boots came next, and he was ready. He snagged his hat as he went out the front door of his cabin. His long strides took him to Abigail’s within minutes. His foot touched the first step, and the door swung open.

Gage appeared with Jacob’s shotgun pointed.

“Gage, it’s me, Clay. I’d appreciate if you don’t shoot me.” Clay didn’t move. A frightened boy couldn’t be trusted or tempted.

Lowering the gun, Gage stepped out on the porch. He closed the door without a sound. “You’re safe. I won’t shoot.”

“Did anything happen here last night?” Clay’s heart still raced at his reception.

“No.” The boy yawned. “I’m a light sleeper, but I don’t think I slept much last night. I kept hearing sounds that turned out to be nothing.”

“Thank God for that.” Clay murmured.

“Yes, we thank God.” Gage looked into Clay’s face with raised eyebrows. “I am glad you know our Creator. You’d make a good husband for Abigail.” He lifted the milk pail from its nail on the porch wall and moved toward the steps.

Clay backed down, then fell into place beside Gage as they went to the barn. “You heard me ask her to marry me. She said no.”

“My father claimed women are good about changing their minds.” Gage slipped inside the barn and lifted down the lantern.

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