The Jewel of His Heart

  The

  JEWEL OF

  HIS Heart

  A NOVEL

  MAGGIE BRENDAN

  © 2009 by Maggie Brendan

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  E-book edition created 2010

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  ISBN 978-1-4412-0525-4

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture is taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Scripture marked NKJV is taken from the New King James Version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  For Bruce, who gave me my beautiful Yogo sapphire ring from Montana, which inspired this story, and for my two wonderful children, Sheri and Jared. You bring great joy to my life! May God always fill your lives with love and hope as He directs your paths. And last but not least, in memory of Shebe, my brother’s faithful Shetland sheepdog.

  He dams up the streams from trickling;

  What is hidden he brings forth to light.

  Job 28:11 (NKJV)

  Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  Author Note

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Utica, Montana, 1896

  I need a wife.

  Josh McBride rode down a grassy slope to the sparkling creek, allowing his horse, Pete, a drink while surveying with a keen eye the parcel of land he’d purchased three years before.

  It’s pretty here—the best spot on God’s good earth.

  But that didn’t keep him from feeling lonely.

  He was enjoying the beautiful Montana mountains this February morning, and the satisfaction of pursuing his own dream and place in the world instead of his father’s. On these solitary morning rides, he treasured the peace and privacy with his Creator, feeling His presence.

  He took his bandana from his neck and dipped it into the cold stream to wipe his face. The creek narrowed at this juncture to not much more than a trickle, or Josh might have missed the handful of small blue pebbles that had collected there. Reaching into the icy water, he scooped the pebbles up for a closer look. The sunlight reflected off the translucent blue pebbles, their hue unlike anything Josh had ever seen. Instinctively he knew these were not just blue pebbles or ordinary stones, but what he didn’t know was how they would ultimately change his life forever.

  Josh slipped the handful of blue stones into his leather vest pocket and mounted his horse. He headed back to the grassy rise overlooking the valley, pausing to gaze with pride at his sizable herd of sheep. Suddenly Josh’s white and amber dog, Shebe, ran up to gaze at him lovingly, her tongue lolling from the side of her mouth.

  “Hey, girl. Looking for me?”

  Shebe’s short bark was her answer, and Josh laughed. “We’ve sure been through some lonely times, haven’t we, girl?”

  “Boss!” Josh’s young sheepherder, Andy, waved his hat at Josh and pushed his horse up the grassy ridge.

  Josh called back a greeting and nudged Pete’s flanks with his boot heel. He’d left his spurs behind when he rode off his father’s cattle ranch. Besides, he and Pete understood each other perfectly. Josh sometimes thought Pete and Shebe understood him better than anyone else, and his affection for his horse and sheepdog ran deep. But still, he wanted a wife. A dog and a horse could not take the place of a companion to fill the lonely space in his heart.

  “What’s going on, Andy?” Josh reined Pete in next to Andy’s horse.

  “There’s a grub-line rider down at the camp. Said he was passing this way from Lewistown. Think he said his name was Charlie.”

  “Does he want to join up, or is he just looking for a place to light for a few days?”

  “I’m not sure, Boss. Reckon you’d better talk to him yourself. He’s a bit different, and carrying some strange-looking canvas case with him.” Andy folded his arms across his saddle horn, waiting for his boss’s direction.

  “All right, Andy. I’ll follow you back to camp. You have the coffee hot?”

  “Don’t I always?” he said matter-of-factly.

  They ambled along in silence. The worn leather saddle, with Josh’s .44 Winchester rifle packed across the front, creaked under his shifting weight. Except for an occasional snort from their horses, it was a calm, still day. A lone eagle soared above the timberline, sending out its shrill call into the bright morning skies. Shebe was not far behind her beloved master.

  As they entered the small clearing where the sheep wagon was parked by a bubbling creek, a handsome wrangler rose from a stump, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wore a floppy hat pushed back at the crown, exposing a shock of long blond bangs that fell across his forehead. He sported a red sash around his neck.

  “Howdy.” He quickly threw the cigarette down, ground it out under his heel, and walked toward them.

  “Hi yourself. What can I do for you? Our camp is quite a ways out for strangers.” Josh dismounted, and Andy followed, taking the horses’ reins. Josh was careful when strangers appeared, never knowing who to trust when someone dropped by unexpectedly.

  The stranger stuck out his hand. “I’m Charlie Russell. Live over in Great Falls, just passing through. I saw your camp and thought a good cup of hot coffee would be mighty nice.” His smile was warm and friendly, and he had a sparkle in his eyes.

  Josh shook his hand. “My name’s Josh McBride. I own the sheep, and Andy here is my sheepherder. Where ya headed?”

  “I was over in Lewistown, and now I’m heading home. Crossed the Judith River and saw smoke from your campfire.”

  “Sit down, Charlie. Andy, how ’bout a cup of java?”

  Josh felt an instant liking for Charlie. He was apparently friendly, and good-looking too. Bet he has a way with the women. He could’ve talked Crystal into taking off to Montana, had he known her.

  Josh was startled by the turn his thoughts had taken. It had been some time since he had given Crystal any thought. He knew she was happy and that Luke adored her. Josh had finally come to terms with that.

  Charlie sipped from the chipped enameled cup Andy had given him. “I may have to sketch you with that friendly dog you have there, Josh. What’s her name?”

  Josh scratched Shebe’s head lovingly as she sat on her haunches next to her master, keeping a keen eye on Charlie. “I call her Shebe. She’s my best friend, right, girl?” Shebe bark
ed in agreement.

  Charlie yanked open the black box he was carrying and pulled out a sketch pad and a box of pencil crayons. Josh started to move away. “No, just sit right there with Shebe. We can just talk, and you can tell me about yourself.” He flipped open his pad to a clean sheet and outlined Josh and his dog.

  “Not much to tell. I’m a sheepherder by way of Colorado, where my daddy is a cattle baron. I wanted to spread my wings and experience something different. Started out with a small herd of sheep that Andy mostly tends now. I’ve started bulding a cabin, and I hope to make it a real home soon. What about you?”

  Charlie seemed eager to talk. “I’m an artist of sorts. Hung up my spurs in ’92 after wrangling since I was sixteen. I used to be a horse wrangler with some of the best outfits around. I once worked at Judith River Basin as the night hawk. From time to time, I drew scenes of wrangling, calf branding, and cattle drives. I guess you could say I’m a self-taught artist. Once people actually wanted to buy my paintings, well, I decided to hang up my spurs and pursue my dream.”

  “Self-taught? Well, there has to be talent involved. I could no more teach myself to paint than design a ship that would hold up at sea.” Josh fidgeted, shifting to a more comfortable position.

  “Hold still, I’ll be done here pretty quick.”

  Charlie’s eyes twinkled, and he laughed as he deftly sketched an image that was beginning to emerge as Josh’s face, showing him playfully touching Shebe’s head as she lay curled at his feet. “Shucks, everything can be learned. I grew up in Missouri and left at sixteen to live out my childhood fantasy, but if it hadn’t been for my good friend Hoover, I wouldn’t have learned or experienced the ways of frontier life or being a cowboy. He took me under his wing and taught me the ropes.” Charlie grinned at them. “Hey! That’s funny. He did teach me how to rope.” He chortled. “I did a little sheepherding myself for Pike Miller’s sheep ranch near Judith Basin, but I didn’t stick with it, and he was glad to see me go. But Hoover taught me a lot.”

  Andy, who was stirring up cornmeal batter, strolled back to where Charlie was adding the finishing touch to his sketch of Josh. “That name sounds familiar . . . Hoover.” He walked behind Charlie and looked over his shoulder at the drawing. “Well, I’ll be doggoned. That looks just like you, Josh.” Andy just shook his head in awe. “I never knew an artist.”

  “I’m pleased you like it, Andy. Can’t say I’m really making much money at it yet.” Charlie dipped his brush into red pigment and mixed it with the black paint. “Hoover’s a mountain man. He did a little gold mining too, but never struck it big. I lived with him at his cabin at Pig Eye Basin. His latchstring was always out. I think he really loved people, along with his habit of drinking. Hmm, I could use a drink myself.”

  “I don’t drink.” Josh cleared his throat. “So, you won’t find one in my camp.”

  “No matter. I’m about done here. As I was saying, Hoover discovered sapphires near Utica, and I think he’s formed a partnership to mine there with some investors.”

  “Wish I could find gold or somethin’ somewhere,” Andy said, pouring himself some coffee. “You staying for grub?”

  “Is that an invite?”

  Josh nodded, rising stiffly to peer at the picture Charlie had drawn. “Pretty good picture. Guess we owe you some beans and johnnycakes. You’re welcome to stay.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you, and I think I will.” Charlie held out the picture toward Josh. “Here, you can have this.”

  “No thanks, Charlie. I have nowhere to put it right now. Keep it for your portfolio. Maybe you’ll be famous someday.” Josh lifted the lid on the pot of beans, and the savory smell wafted out into the chilly morning air. “The beans are close to being done. Andy, flip us some of your johnnycakes to go along with this.”

  Charlie stuffed the sketch and art supplies back in his canvas case. “Sounds good to me. Is there anything I can help with?”

  “Nope,” Andy said. “There’s some oats over in that there barrel if you want to give your horse a nibble.”

  “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

  Josh watched Charlie as he proceeded to pour oats in a bucket for his horse. He was an affable cowpoke, easy to talk to. Josh couldn’t help but wonder what kind of skills he had as a cowboy but thought Charlie was at least a pretty decent artist.

  The rest of the workday brought nothing unusual. Josh pulled a bleating lamb from a thicket, and it began frantically looking for its mother. Charlie tagged along. He talked the entire time, as if finding the whole realm of sheepherding interesting.

  The sun was just beginning to slip behind the purple mountains of Tollgate Hill when Josh and Charlie tethered their horses. Josh removed Pete’s saddle while Charlie gave the horses fresh water to drink.

  “Mmm, I’m about to starve to death,” Charlie said when they entered the campsite.

  “Good thing, ’cause I’m just about to dish up the food.” Andy flipped johnnycakes on the open fire with a flick of his wrist.

  “Andy, you’ve turned out to be a good cook.” Josh smiled at Andy. “I’m hungry myself. Hope there’s some coffee to go with it.”

  “Matter of fact, I just made some fresh.”

  Josh looked at the young man bent over the fire. Andy made him smile inwardly with his eagerness to please. He was a runaway from a father who was meaner than a snake. Josh was glad he had hired him—Andy was worth his weight in gold. Josh had never had a younger brother, only his sister, April, and that was another thing altogether.

  Later, Charlie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Pardner, that was some fine eating I wasn’t expecting out here tonight. Thank you, Andy.”

  “It’s my secret ingredient.”

  “And what might that be?” Charlie laughed.

  “If I told you, Charlie, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

  Josh chuckled at the two of them. It was getting dark now. He poked the fire, sending orange sparks upward and lighting the faces of Charlie and Andy. He suddenly remembered the blue stones tucked away in his vest pocket. He took another swig of his coffee, set his tin cup down, and pulled out the blue pebbles. As he held them in his palm near the firelight, they twinkled like distant stars.

  Andy and Charlie stopped talking when they saw the pebbles in the firelight. Andy let out a soft whistle. “Hey, whatcha got there, Josh?”

  “I’m not sure. Found these today in the creek bed when I stopped to let Pete drink. I just remembered.” Josh was fascinated with the cornflower blue of the stones as his fingers pushed them around in his palm.

  “If you find more, you may be able to build that home quicker than you think,” Charlie said. “Remember my friend Hoover I told you about?” Josh nodded. “Well, these look like the blue stones he found last year at Yogo Creek. You ought to take those to Lewistown next time you’re up that way and have ’em looked at. Could be you’re holding your future in the palm of your hand, Josh.”

  Josh stared at the stones, then tucked them back into his inside vest pocket. He would definitely get them examined by an assayer. He would love to be able to build that house sooner rather than later.

  When he’d left Colorado, he had not been on good terms with his father. Jim McBride had told him that if he left the ranch, he would cut Josh out of the will. His father was a mighty powerful and wealthy cattleman. He used his influence to get what he wanted, when he wanted it. Besides, Josh had told his father he’d wanted to do something different and be responsible for his own welfare. Tempers flared and an argument ensued. Then, when the woman he was really interested in married another man, Josh decided it was time to leave instead of mooning over her and seeing her with someone else.

  Crystal. He paused over the image in his mind. The pain was gone after three years, and he decided it must have been God’s will for him. Another plan. Another life. Funny, when he thought about it. His sister, April, had been engaged to the man Crystal eventually married. What a strange turn of events.


  He’d struggled in the last three years to make ends meet, and now he was beginning to reap the benefits. He wasn’t wealthy like his father by any stretch of the imagination, but the way the price of wool was rising, he’d soon be able to show his father he could make it on his own.

  2

  Juliana Brady paused, pushing her thick, dark hair back from her face. She arched her back, stretched, and tried to rub out the stiffness. Bending over the miners’ wash made her back hurt, but at least it was decent work for someone without any work experience, unlike the work of some of the “soiled doves” in town. Using a smooth limb from a ponderosa pine, she placed dingy clothes in the boiling kettle sitting atop the campfire. She moved the limb up and down and pressed the wad of clothing against the side of the huge black pot to loosen the dirt, then picked up a book of poems. She loved to read, and doing the wash was boring, so she tried to have a book of poems or good literature to keep her company.

  There never seemed to be enough money, and it had been that way for as long as she could remember. She let her thoughts wander back to a few days ago. There had not been enough to pay for rent, let alone buy groceries, Mama had told her.

  It pained Juliana to look into her mother’s blue-gray eyes. She knew Mama was trying to keep her chin up, but declining health had plagued her recently, and Juliana had watched her mother’s energy fall away the last few months.

  It was hard keeping up with the miners’ wash and the housework. Juliana had insisted on doing it so her mother could rest. She admonished that hard work never hurt anybody. She had echoed that statement throughout the years, mainly toward her absent father, because he had chased the dream of striking it rich one day. Though Juliana loved her father, it broke her heart to see her mother struggle and carry the burden alone.

  Maybe she would apply at the boardinghouse to see if there were any openings. She could read and write, but how could one use that skill? Around here, the only jobs she’d been able to find were cooking and cleaning.

  She sighed, picked up the clothes by the end of the heavy, smooth stick, and lowered each piece into another kettle of clean water to rinse away the soap. Not many left, thankfully. After a few quick swishes, she wrung out all the water from each piece and placed them all in her laundry basket. By now her hands were numb from the cold water and the breeze that fluttered through the fir and pine trees. Juliana decided that if she was still doing this type of work in the summer, she would carry her laundry to the creek for rinsing.