Free Ruth by Lori Copeland Page B

figure her sums. But when Mrs. Norris died in childbirth, the grieving and distraught husband had returned ten-year-old Ruth to the orphanage.
    Mrs. Galeen had been sympathetic to Edgar Norris’s grief, but she disapproved of his choice not to keep Ruth with him when he returned East to his family. Edgar explained that he was unable to cope with a child, not even one whom he’d called his own for more than six years.
    “It took me weeks to get past grieving myself,” Ruth told the mare. “It was so hard to get over the death of the only real mother I’d ever known and what I then perceived in my childish mind as the betrayal by the only father I had. Mrs. Galeen, bless her kind soul, did everything possible to help me adjust. But I sought escape in books.”
    Ruth drew a deep sigh. “The orphanage was the fortunate recipient of any books abandoned by travelers, which afforded the shelter quite a good library of fiction, history, and the classics. I read everything and soon began reading to the younger children at bedtime, which allowed Mrs. Galeen extra time with the older ones.”
    Finally Ruth grew to accept that she’d lost not only one set of parents but two. “Mrs. Galeen refused to let me blame God or anyone else for my misfortune. The time came when I accepted the Lord as my Savior and friend, not as someone who caused evil but allowed it for his own purposes.
    “God allows events in our lives to take place in order to make us stronger in our faith—that’s what Mrs. Galeen contends. In which case I ought to be really strong. One time I told her so. But Esther Galeen had only said, ‘One day you’ll need to be strong, and you’ll have his strength to comfort you.’”
    Well, Ruth thought as she drew the blanket snugly around her shoulders, this must be that day. She found no comfort in the prophecy. She was lost and alone . . . and it was Dylan McCall’s fault. If he hadn’t just gone off and left her—
    Annoyance bloomed anew. What kind of man would just go off and leave a woman alone on an empty mountainside with no help? No one but a rotten, black-hearted, just plain mean kind of man. A man with no heart.
    “And I wanted to be strong for that man,” Ruth contended. “I wanted to be the shining light in his life, to prove—in spite of an occasional bout of temper and bullheadedness—that I walk in faith not in darkness. The marshall seemed to be struggling with a limited amount of trust in the Almighty. Mare, you notice that?”
    But anger couldn’t drive out her fear. The silence and the darkness began to close in, and tears slid from the corners of Ruth’s eyes. She laid her head on the saddle and drew the second blanket close.
    “Please help me, God,” she murmured. “I know I’m foolish and do things and act when I should be asking your guidance. I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry. But in your mercy, in your forgiveness, please send someone to get me out of this.”

    She must have fallen asleep, for when she next opened her eyes, a hazy dawn surrounded her. Ruth slowly unwound from her blankets, groaning as her stiff muscles complained.
    Distant thunder convinced her that she’d best take shelter from the approaching storm. Struggling with the weight of the saddle, Ruth managed to get the heavy leather over the horse that peered over her haunch with a pained expression, as if to ask what Ruth thought she was doing.
    “I don’t know,” she muttered, tightening the cinch. “But I can’t sit here and wallow in self-pity a moment longer.”
    By the time the mare was saddled, Ruth was trembling with exertion. She would have to find substantial food soon or she’d be too faint to ride. Urging the horse toward an outcropping of rocks, Ruth sought cover in a small cave. She squeezed the mare through the tight opening and thanked God for safety as the skies opened up in a torrential cloudburst.
    She spotted the skunk the same instant it spotted her. Lifting its tail, it sprayed the area