Send a White Rose

Praise for Send a White Rose

... Great job of capturing the attitudes of the people of that time period, giving her story an authentic feel. ... beautifully brought her characters to life, and kept my interest with unusual plot twists. ... Recommend this highly for any lover of Christian historical fiction.

The best part of this story for me was the vast array of characters. ... An enjoyable read.

... Great adventure of love (both of God and of man) and of friendship.

...First time I read Christian fiction & I enjoyed it!

Send a White Rose

by

Mary C. Findley

© 2010 Findley Family Video Publications

Send a White Rose by Mary C. Findley

© 2010 Findley Family Video Publications

Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, King James Version.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. Exception is made for short excerpts used in reviews.

Findley Family Video Publications

Speaking the truth in love.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to persons living or dead is coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: Problems to Solve

Chapter Two: Time to Think

Chapter Three: Flying Free

Chapter Four: Waiting for News

Chapter Five: The Perfect Suspect

Chapter Six: The Duty of a Son

Chapter Seven: A Lady With a Purpose

Chapter Eight: Awakening

Chapter Nine: Stepping Down

Chapter Ten: Visiting a Sick Friend

Chapter Eleven: Free but Captive

Chapter Twelve: Captivity and Freedom

Chapter Thirteen: Cheering Up

Chapter Fourteen: Time Is Short

Chapter Fifteen: Ready and Waiting

Chapter Sixteen: So Certain

Chapter Seventeen: The Wrong Solution

Chapter Eighteen: A Challenge Answered

Chapter Nineteen: A Hasty Proposal

Chapter Twenty: Stubborn Pride

Chapter Twenty-One: Unmistakable Messages

Other Books and Products from Findley Family Video Publications

Chapter One: Problems to Solve

The whole territory would have been surprised to see Bartholomew Durant pacing his private chambers in the Santa Fe courthouse with long, rapid strides, back and forth, back and forth, turning his eyes again and again to the window. Stopping at his desk, he toyed with the pen lying there and shuffled through some paperwork awaiting his attention. He was a disciplined, methodical man who did not let things pile up, so there was nothing urgent. The window drew his eyes again and he dropped the pen and resumed his pacing.

A distant rumble of wheels and hiss of steam froze him. He touched his straight dark hair and glanced into the cheval glass at his tall, athletic figure simply but elegantly clad in black. At last he moved to the window and looked out.

The train lumbered into town as it always did, pretty nearly on time, according to Bartholomew's watch, which he consulted from habit rather than interest and then replaced in his vest pocket. Marshal Robert Markham emerged from the Santa Fe station as the passenger coaches came to a halt beside the platform. He looked uncomfortable dressed in a suit and new boots, Bartholomew observed with amusement. The train rumbled to a halt and Robert watched intently as passengers began to flow from the doors.

Bartholomew's smile faded as Robert glanced up toward the judge's window. It seemed to Bartholomew that Robert's intense blue eyes were even more stern than normal and his jaw was more set as he reached up to assist the lady Bartholomew knew was emerging.

I need a look inside that car more than ever, the judge murmured, but I've got to get down there, now.

He bolted out of the room and raced down the hall, shooting down the stairs and taking a shortcut through the first floor courtroom. He flung open the front door and then pulled up short at the top of the courthouse steps to regain his balance and his composure. Looking across to the Santa Fe Hotel, he could just see Robert disappearing inside with a woman dressed in green followed by another man.

Bartholomew was surprised to realize that he had actually had the presence of mind to grab up his hat as he had run from his room. He placed it carefully atop his head and walked calmly across the street. Several people called out to the judge as he passed, but he was not ready with his usual friendly banter and polite greetings.

Robert stood at the desk beside the man and woman he had escorted in. The man had been writing in the register, but both of them turned as Robert murmured something to them. Bartholomew drew himself up to his full height and released his tight grip on the doorknob.

Judge Bartholomew Durant, may I present Miss Leah Masters and her brother Randall, Robert announced.

Bartholomew took in Randall Masters at a glance. He looked every inch the son of an eastern senator. He carried his soft, fleshy frame in haughty arrogance. His hair and eyes were nearly colorless, and his clothes were probably the latest fashion back east, tailored green velvet and silk. Robert's hard looks had warned him of trouble. His suspicion had been strengthened by Randall's dandyish snobbery. Still, he was not prepared for his first look at the woman he had invited to consider making her his wife.

Leah Masters was less than five and a half feet tall. She was thin and pale as death, with enormous, watery blue eyes and pale blond hair. Her finery was even worse than her brother's was. The weight of it seemed almost too much for her balance.

Bartholomew realized he had been staring much too long for polite curiosity. He left his post at the door, advanced, and took Leah's hand.

Welcome to Santa Fe, Miss Masters. He tried not to notice that her curtsy almost toppled her. And to you, Mr. Masters. Randall responded with an awkward jerk of his head as Bartholomew released Leah's hand. A moment of uncomfortable silence followed when Leah seemed to be trying to speak but failed to utter a sound. At last Bartholomew stepped back.

I won't interfere further with your getting settled, he said. Rest and refresh yourselves. My ranch is a bit far from town, so I've taken the liberty of ordering dinner at the hotel this evening. I'll look forward to your company in the dining room at eight.

Leah gave a little moan and sank to the floor. Randall blanched and stooped to gather her up before anyone else could react. Hotel employees appeared from every direction as the desk clerk frantically rang the bell. The guests were whisked away upstairs while Bartholomew and Robert stood motionless. When the commotion had died away, Bartholomew took Robert's elbow.

"Since it seems I'm at liberty for the afternoon, see if you can get your father free and we'll discuss that comanchero trouble he mentioned. Send me word at the mission if we can meet."

*****

The two men walked out of the hotel together and parted on the boardwalk, Robert swinging up onto a tall paint gelding tethered at the rail and Bartholomew continuing on down the street to an old Spanish mansion near the edge of town. Workmen clustered about it, repairing and painting and hanging a sign that read Santa Fe Baptist Orphanage and Mission-House.

Bartholomew had regained his widely renowned open, friendly manner, and greeted everyone he met warmly as he approached and entered the mission. He knocked lightly on a door marked office, and entered when he heard a voice call, Come in!

Bartholomew closed the door of the office of Reverend Seth Greene, the missionary who ran the orphanage. He found the small, white-haired gentleman in conversation with a willowy, olive-skinned woman with glossy black hair, penetrating dark eyes, and regal grace. She wore simple, coarse garments and sandals. Both of them rose as Bartholomew entered and the woman laid a large leather account book on the desk and took the judge's extended hand with a radiant smile.

"Excuse me, Señorita Alethia. I had no wish to interrupt," Bartholomew apologized.

"I was only going over the month's accounts for the orphanage with Pastor Greene, Señor Judge," Alethia replied.

Judge, I'm glad you stopped by, the pastor said, wiping his brow. Alethia's brought up a few problems you might be able to help us with.

Let's have a look, Bartholomew said, picking up the book and moving closer to the desk.

We kept Raphael the harness maker's children while he and his wife made their last trip to El Paso, Alethia explained, pointing out an entry in the book. He promised to pay their room and board, but we've received nothing. It's been three months now.

Bartholomew leaned out and looked thoughtfully out the window toward the courthouse.

I seem to recall that we just talked to Raphael about replacing some leather upholstery, he mused. Maybe I can get someone else to do it. What else is troubling you?

Eustace Jones of the Lazy Q promised to sell us wheat, Judge. the preacher took out a contract and handed it to Bartholomew. But now he says he's found a better buyer.

Nothing conditional about the terms of this contract, Bartholomew said. I was thinking about selling Eustace that prize bull calf he's been pestering me about. Have to give it some more thought, I guess.

Eustace talks a great deal about improving his stock, Alethia said with little smile.

Sure could hurt his plans if he can't get that calf, the pastor said, putting away the contract.

I'm depending on it. Anyone else, Alethia?

Andrew Ledbetter the stone mason, Judge, Alethia answered. He agreed to do some of our stonework in exchange for boarding his son while his wife was confined. But the repairs have not been done, and the baby is a month old now. Andrew's son also ... well ... he did some damage here that Andrew refuses to pay for.

I did some damage to that spoiled rotten brat, too, the pastor said with uncharacteristic warmth. Someone needed to show that boy what the rod of correction was all about. But that didn't fix the hole in the dining room wall.

I used to have a standing contract with Andrew Ledbetter for my stone work. Bartholomew rubbed his chin. But it seems to me that I fulfilled my end of the agreement quite awhile back. We've just sort of continued by mutual agreement. I think the mutuality just ended. Pastor, you let me know if these problems aren't cleared up. I don't like dealing with dishonest businessmen any more than you do.

Thanks, Judge, the preacher said with a relieved smile. Bartholomew rose and they shook hands.

I'm waiting for a message from Robert, Alethia, Bartholomew explained. Can we walk around and see the children?

"Of course, Señor Judge, Alethia said, rising quickly. We are starting to prepare supper, but most of the children are out back playing. Come."

*****

The building had once been the house of a Spanish nobleman. The large airy courtyard with its golden stucco walls and ornate tile paving had been converted into an outdoor kitchen. In the beautiful fountained courtyard children of various ages stirred big pots of beans, patted and stretched tortillas, and dared one another to eat some of the potent jalapeño peppers from the orphanage garden as they sliced them up to add to the food.

Here, I'll take one, Bartholomew said as he walked up behind them. The children were startled to find the tall, black-clad man towering over them, but when they recognized the judge they were all over him with cries in Spanish of, "Buenos Dias, Señor Judge! Did you hang any gunfighters today, Señor Judge? Pick me up, Señor Judge!" Bartholomew swung a little boy up onto his shoulder and paraded him around.

"Here, Señor Judge, a sly-eyed teenage girl called out. Your jalapeño."

Bartholomew hesitated. Alethia smiled, eyes bright with amusement. Bartholomew put the little boy down and grabbed the jalapeño, popping it into his mouth.

"Gracias, Señorita, he said to the girl. Señorita Alethia, let's go on out back."

They passed into the dusty back yard of the mission. Bartholomew headed straight for the well in the center of the yard. A number of children stopped their play to watch as Bartholomew stood for several minutes drinking straight out of the bucket. The kitchen staff came to the back door to watch as well. Finally Bartholomew lifted his head and gasped for air. He glared around at the children and they went hastily back to their former occupations. Only Alethia laughed openly at him as she picked his hat up from the ground, tapped the dust from it, and held it out to him.

It is always the same, she said as she wiped tears from her eyes. Will you never conquer your pride?

"Why Señorita, it's not pride, Bartholomew exclaimed. It takes real humility to let all these children see me trying to drown myself in your well every time I come. But upon my honor, I can eat normal jalapeños without even blinking. I don't know what you do to yours."

"The pastor and I appreciate all you do for the orphanage, Señor Judge, Alethia said soberly as they stood watching the children play. Most people would say their duty was done with the gifts you make to us."

We're unprofitable servants if we only do our duty, Bartholomew replied. I want do everything I can for the mission and orphanage, especially since it happens to be the home of my advisor, my confidante... my dear friend Alethia.

Judge, you have done so much for me already. I owe all that I am to you.

Alethia, I feel as if I owe everything to you. If I had a sister, she couldn't understand and help and counsel me the way you do. And you serve everybody else in the city too. What would we all do without Alethia, our teacher, our nurse, our counselor, our friend?

Robert stepped out of the kitchen doorway at that moment, and Alethia noticed his new clothes.

"Bienvenido, Marshal! She said as Robert approached. Why, Judge, I forgot your company was to arrive today. Have they already come? Did they have a safe journey?"

Yes. The lady was ... very tired. She's at the hotel resting.

"I should think she would be tired. I did hope to catch a glimpse of her, but I am sure I will see her another time. Vaya con Dios, Señor Judge." She held out her hands and Bartholomew clasped them in his.

*****

We've had trouble with raiding parties here, Governor Michael Markham said, pointing at a hilly region not far from Santa Fe. And here and here as well. They're described as some Indian, some Mexican, some white. Groups of ten or twenty. They'll attack isolated farms or even small towns. There've been burn-outs, robberies, senseless killings.

That's the closest any renegades have come in years, Bartholomew murmured. Seems like a fairly small group, though.

We suspect there are many more than these raids make it appear, Judge, Robert put in. Descriptions of leaders, weapons, horses -- they all vary too much. Captain Sawyer at the cavalry post thinks this may be a well-organized group paid and trained by somebody to cause trouble and numbering as many as two hundred.

Who does he think is behind it? Bartholomew demanded. The governor pushed the map aside and looked steadily at Bartholomew without speaking. He was a rather small, wiry man, gray-haired and hardly resembling his son at all except for his penetrating blue eyes.

There are reports of men in priest's robes being seen with the attackers, he answered finally. The victims won't admit it to the soldiers, of course. They'll defend that scarlet whore even if she is cutting their throats and sucking their blood. But we've heard things.

Bartholomew nodded. I've heard some things myself, he frowned. Well, we've got to do something for those people. Let's get a cavalry detachment stationed out here. He pointed to a location near the troubled area. Have them build a fort -- make their presence felt. Give them plenty of support. Let's see if it's really just isolated bands or something else. I hope they'll crawl back under their rocks.

I hope so, too, Judge, the governor agreed. Thanks for your advice. Did your guests have a safe arrival?

Quite -- quite safe. They seemed tired, but that's to be expected.

Governor Markham stroked his chin. Fancy Tom Masters' daughter all grown up, Robert. Why, we knew her when she was just a puny little thing.

She's still quite small, Bartholomew said curtly.

Quiet, too. She had real pretty yellow hair and the biggest blue eyes. Robert was a bit sweet on her back then. Well, my best to both of you, Bart. I wish you every happiness.

*****

What did he mean by that? Bartholomew demanded as Robert walked him out to the stables.

Why, Judge, everybody expects you to marry Miss Masters. Surely you realize that? Robert responded.

Marry her? I only invited her here to meet her!

"Father said dozens of girls' names were brought up at that ball in Washington where you agreed