An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Sixteen

Present Day – February 1867

Doris patted dry the spot of tea on her dress that had spewed from her mouth in an unladylike fashion as her lungs exploded with laughter at the story her best friend had just shared with her.

"It wasn't that funny," Rachel scoffed at her friend as she took another sip of tea and shook her head in irritation. Doris chuckled and dapped the white cloth napkin to her peachy colored lips, "I'm sorry, Rachel. It's just the very idea that you —"

"That I what?" Dr. York asked in frustration, planting her hands firmly together on her lap.

Doris cleared her throat; she knew now her friend was not joking. Rachel was stone-cold serious. Doris offered a soft smile and gathered her composure to present her demeanor in a compassionate light instead of a humorous one. She considered her words carefully and then propped one elbow on the table and leaned toward her friend, "You must care for him a great deal."

Rachel dropped her eyes to the floor and studied the toes of her shoes. There scruffy appearance reminded her she was in desperate need of a new pair. Sighing, she tucked them under her long skirt and glanced at the clock as she said, "I barely know him."

Doris lifted her hand, propped her chin on her wrist, and offered in her kind, soft-spoken way, "Your heart doesn't keep a calendar."

Rachel stared at her friend, "Was it wrong of me to mention the Sweetheart Dance? You don't think that was too forward of me, do you?"

Reaching across the table, Doris gave her friends hand a gentle squeeze, "I don't think so...besides, it doesn't sound like he minded. From your account, I'd say your ranch hand quite fancies you."

Rachel blushed, "I don't know about that...I talk too much. I have too many opinions. None of the other ladies are like that."

Doris shrugged, "Maybe, but that could also be what he likes about you. You're real and not afraid to speak your own mind; I'd be lying if I didn't say I envy you a little."

"Envy me?" Rachel questioned.

"Your boldness," Doris corrected, "I usually just shy up and stop talking the moment men are around."

She was right about that; Rachel had seen it a thousand times...

especially around the Sheriff. Poor Doris was so in love with him she couldn't stand it, but Sheriff Harvey was too blind to see it, and Doris was too shy to admit it. In fact, Rachel wasn't at all sure that the two had ever said more than three sentences at a time. Before she responded, Doris added, "I would like to meet this cowboy of yours. He must be something special to have captured your attention."

Rachel smiled, "He is special..."

"How ever did you managed to stay calm out there for a week with him?" her friend giggled.
"Well, he had a bullet in him, so he wasn't too active at first," Rachel said, then suddenly realized she had said too much. Doris arched a brow and cocked her head, "He was shot?"

Oh, no...time for damage control. You and your big mouth.

"Yes, he'd been shot accidentally when he was out hunting." She had thought up a lie and thought it up quick. Still her heart sunk with shame that she had fibbed to her friend. She said a silent prayer of repentance asking the Lord to forgive her for it, but that did not ease the guilt of her deceit. Doris bought it anyway, "Oh, goodness. The poor thing, that must have been a very traumatic experience for him."

Rachel nodded, but didn't lie again, "Yes, I'm sure it was. One positive thing is he healed quickly."

Doris smiled warmly and her eyes sparkled. Clapping her hands together excitedly she said, "I have a wonderful idea! Do you still have to deliver Amos Clydesdale's mare's foal?" Rachel narrowed her eyes and nodded, "Yes, but why?"