The Shepherd's Voice by Robin Lee Hatcher Page A

needed.
“Akira is a decent, God-fearing woman.”
“And you’re a man who was in prison for ten years. If you’re not lusting after a woman, even one who stinks of sheep, then you’re not normal. Don’t think I’m the only person who’s guessed what’s going on out there.”
Gabe stood, his fists clenched at his sides, fighting the anger inside him. “If that’s all you’ve got to say, then I’ll be off.”
“That isn’t all.” Hudson stood too. “You came back to Ransom because you wanted something from me. You wanted me to give you work and a place to stay. You came begging for it. You looked around at everything I have, and you wanted a piece of it. Well, you may even get some of it, but I’m asking something in return. Prove yourself worthy of being called a Talmadge. If you succeed, you’ll be handsomely rewarded.”
“Prove it how?”
“Use your imagination,” his father answered.
Gabe wasn’t the hungry, hopeless tramp who’d arrived at the mill a few weeks back. He wasn’t the man who’d been broken beneath the weight of his own sins, his own guilt and shame. He was different. Forever different. Hudson didn’t know that yet. But Gabe did.
“I never wanted anything from you except a Father’s love.” He lowered his voice. “And you don’t have anything I want now.” He turned toward Pauline. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Talmadge.”
Without another glance at Hudson, Gabe strode out of the drawing room. The butler was waiting near the front door, Gabe’s hat in hand, his expression studiously neutral. Gabe took the hat, nodded, then left the house.
As the ornate door swung closed behind him, he heard Hudson bellow in rage.
Gabe actually felt sorry for him.

After their visit with Jane at the Sebastian farm, where they shared the noon meal, Akira and Nora returned to Dundreggan. Akira had half hoped she would find Gabe already there. After all, an automobile could cover the distance in much shorter time than the team and wagon. But he wasn’t home yet.
The hours of afternoon lengthened, along with the shadows, while Akira went about her chores, her thoughts confused and disjointed. She tried to pray but couldn’t. No, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that she couldn’t pray. She was afraid to pray. Afraid God’s answer might be different from what her heart wanted.
Countless times she looked down the drive toward the main road, watching for a telltale cloud of dust to signal an automobile’s approach. It was never there. She thought about going after him, driving right up to the Talmadge mansion and demanding he return home with her.
“Love hurts,” she told Cam as dusk settled upon the valley.
Lying at her feet, the collie whimpered.
Akira grabbed another ear of corn from the feed sack and continuedshucking. “I never knew that before,” she added. “That love hurts.”
This time, Cam raised her head from her paws and stared at her mistress with wide brown eyes.
“You’re no help.” She smiled sadly as she stroked the dog’s head.
Cam rose on all fours and looked toward the road, her ears cocked forward. Akira set aside the corn and stood too, looking to see what had drawn the dog’s attention. Her heart pattered erratically in her chest. But there was no sign of an approaching vehicle, no unusual sound of any kind.
Disappointment flooded through Akira as she sank onto the chair.
Suddenly the collie jumped off the porch and raced up the drive. A few moments later, Gabe strode into view. He’d removed his suit coat and carried it slung over one shoulder, held there with an index finger crooked beneath the collar. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, and even from this distance, she could see rings of perspiration dampening the white shirt beneath his arms.
He stopped when the dog reached him, leaned down and stroked her head, spoke, ruffled her ears. Then he straightened, looked toward the front porch, and lifted a hand to wave at Akira. She saw him smile.
She