He mounted behind her, then situated her to be comfortable for the ride back, and safe.
“Was Miss Mary telling the truth?” Her voice drifted upward from where she lounged against him. “Does God hear me?”
Good question. One he couldn’t answer honestly.
“Mister Lou. Does God hear us?”
“Uh—”
“Was Miss Mary telling the truth?”
He wished he knew. “Go to sleep, honey.”
“But does God hear me?”
“I found you, didn’t I?” he said, hoping that would do. Mary filled this child’s head with nonsense, the kind of truths he used to hinge his faith on, but he knew better now.
Yet tonight...on all these acres of land, he’d found Josie. Scared but unharmed. What did that mean? And if God cared enough to save her not once, but twice, then where had He been when Lou’s family was dying? Why hadn’t He saved them?
Heart weighted with questions and arms heavy with a snoring bundle of warmth, he headed home.
Chapter Fifteen
“You’re traveling alone?” Miss Alma readjusted her colorful feathered hat. “Are you sure that’s wise, Mary?”
It was early morning. Lou waited in the wagon with Josie who, despite the bumpy ride into town, remained fast asleep. The poor girl was no doubt exhausted from last night’s antics. James had needed to go to the post office before he took them to the train and she’d decided to stop in at the dry-goods store for thimbles. Mary encountered Miss Alma by the pincushions. There were only two, and the sweet lady appeared to be debating over them until she noticed Mary behind her.
It took only moments for her to discover Mary’s plans and now she studied her with a suspicious look in her bright eyes.
“Not really alone,” Mary amended. She scanned the shelves above the cushions for some durable thimbles. She’d forgotten hers at home. “Josie will be with us.”
“And on your way home?”
Her cheeks heated. She avoided Miss Alma’s gaze.
“Really, Mary.” Miss Alma bustled closer and laid a gentle hand on Mary’s arm. Her voice lowered. “You must be more careful with your reputation. I only say that out of concern.”
Mary met her friend’s gaze. “Thank you, but there really is no other way.” She’d thought about asking her mother to chaperone but had decided against that. Especially after Lou had practically accused Rose of stealing. And James was needed at the ranch.
There was no one else.
She patted Miss Alma’s hand. “Please don’t worry. I hardly think my reputation could be more tarnished than it is.”
“Oh, pishposh.” Her elderly friend let out an unladylike snort. The hand that had been on Mary’s shoulder flapped, dodging through the air, waving away Mary’s comment as if a pesky fly. “People here love you. We appreciate your goods at our events, your gentle spirit and the herbs you bring to the store. I am simply thinking of your future good. I wasn’t going to say anything but—” she leaned forward conspiratorially “—a certain young man has been asking for you.”
Mary felt the blood drain from her face and gripped the shelf. “Does he...does he have strangely colored eyes?”
“Oh, my, no. Brown as a log.” Miss Alma tittered. “I won’t say who he is but he’s well respected and a kind young man.”
“I’m getting quite old. Rather on the shelf.” Mary pulled a wry face, which made Miss Alma giggle.
“Now, don’t you worry. Every man is young to me. He’d do well by you. Come to our summer picnic, my dear. Bring your goodies. Something chocolate.”
Mary smiled. She adored chocolate, but it was expensive to buy. However, if chocolate made her merry and soft like Miss Alma, then perhaps she should experiment a wee bit with some new recipes.
“Miss Mary? Time to go.” James’s gruff voice broke her thoughts. He came around the dry goods and stopped suddenly. A look of horror crossed his face.
She stepped forward. “Are you okay?”
“James.” A high-pitched note, more akin to a squeal, escaped Miss Alma’s lips.
Surprised, Mary looked at her friend. A becoming blush colored her cheeks.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come by my house and repair my sink. I fixed a special pie for you just this morning.” Miss Alma bustled between James and her. “Mary, darling, take care. I shall be praying fervently for you and that sweet little girl.” Miss Alma hooked James by the elbow and led him toward the spooled thread.
Mary stood dumbfounded for a moment, and then she laughed. Well, she hadn’t seen this coming, but Miss Alma looked perfect on James’s arm. Or rather, he on her arm. Chuckling, she scooped up a thimble for herself and then searched until she found a child’s size.
The trip would be long and arduous for Josie. Perhaps a stitched doily might turn Josie’s attention and leave her with a keepsake. She palmed the thimbles and headed for the counter.
After picking out penny treats and paying for everything, she stepped into the early-morning sunshine. Wispy clouds drifted across the surface of the sky, rippling the sunbeams and providing snatches of cover from summer rays. A brisk wind picked up dirt and swirled it around her skirt. Covering her eyes, she spied Lou’s wagon across the road. Lou lounged in the front, hat pulled over his face, most likely sleeping.
Once at the train station, they’d board the Union Pacific short line. It had been years since she’d ridden on a train. Prickles bumped across her skin. She did not relish the close quarters she would share with strangers.
Returning Josie was a necessity, though. Her heart quailed at the thought and the thimbles dug into her palms. Not only must she part with the sweet girl who’d become entrenched in her heart, but she must suffer riding with Lou.
The ride to town had proved easy enough. Lou and James discussed matters of all sorts, from selling the ranch to the government’s plans regarding prohibition. As they spoke, Mary kept finding herself torn between staring at Josie, memorizing her sleep-peaceful features, to watching Lou and the movements of his mouth.... Had he really kissed her?
Her fingers moved to her lips.
It hadn’t been her first kiss, but it had been the only one she’d enjoyed. Sleep had eluded her last night, for memories had risen unbidden to the surface of her subconscious. They’d invaded her sleep, dreams from long ago. From childhood. And then nightmares.
She should have expected those. After all, the only kisses she’d ever experienced had been forced upon her by rough and ungodly men. Though they had not assaulted her, for it would have diminished her worth, they’d nevertheless taken liberties no man should take with a woman. One week of terror when she’d been kidnapped.... It had ruined her image of men for life. Or so she’d thought.
The past years had been healing, but not until yesterday, when Lou had kissed her, had she realized that maybe she could move on from what had happened so long ago. Perhaps the evils Mendez and his cohorts had perpetrated upon her no longer had the power to bind her spirit.
For that knowledge alone, she should thank Lou. And yet she felt as though he’d betrayed her somehow. As if he’d offered the most delectable dessert, waved it beneath her nose, then snatched it back.
Her throat closed and she glanced away from Lou’s wagon, down the street, watching as the town awoke. Mrs. Hartley swept the walk outside her fabric store. Others drove or rode past, on their way to various employments.
This was her home.
No matter what happened with the ranch, this place remained hers. God had brought her to this town, and it had been here where she’d found healing. Inhaling deeply, she relished the scents of the restaurant next door and the sage always present in her beloved desert.
“Let’s git on with it.” James burst out of the store, Miss Alma on his heels.
“But won’t you come pick up your pie, at least?”
“I don’t want nothin’ to do with it.” He spun around, right in the middle of the road, and pointed a finger at Miss Alma. Right at her nose actually, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “You leave me alone...you...you confounded woman.” He threw his hands up in the air and stomped off toward the wagon.
Lou leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and squinted at them. Mary looked both ways and then hustled to the center of the road, where Miss Alma still stood.
Gently she laid a hand on Miss Alma’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, me?” She turned and patted Mary’s hand. “Don’t worry, my dear. He’ll come around.” Her hand went to her heart, and she let out what could only be described as a lovelorn sigh. “He’s a handsome fellow.”
Mary tried not to gape.
“Well, then.” Miss Alma patted Mary’s hand again and then removed it from her shoulder, where it had lingered, paralyzed by Miss Alma’s frightening proclamation. She dropped her arm, trying to assess this odd situation that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
“He will come around, no doubt,” repeated Miss Alma with brisk optimism. “You take care and don’t let that Lou Riley ruin your reputation.”
With a swish of her skirts, she left Mary in the middle of the road and bustled back to the walkway.
* * *
The trip to Portland was torturous. Worse than the time Lou had been captured during the Great War and thrown into a dank dungeon for weeks. He’d chosen to travel by train because he hadn’t wanted to run his tin lizzie over the highways. His Model T was relatively close to the ground and it was too easy for rocks and other debris to lodge up underneath it. That was why he’d insisted they take the UP’s short line. He didn’t normally mind riding the railroad. He knew all the switches they’d need to make, and at which towns, but traveling with a little girl and a woman proved disastrous for his peace of mind.
For one, Josie didn’t stop talking. And she wanted to sit by the window. Being it was the last time he’d see her, he obliged, but that forced him next to Mary. Somehow she managed to still smell like flowers and sage, despite the cramped quarters and dusty stops. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and every time he thought about making conversation, he changed his mind.
He was planning on leaving. Mary deserved better, someone who could offer the home she wanted, the love she needed. Sometimes he thought she felt something for him, maybe even love. But he wasn’t sure and not knowing could take a man down perilous mental routes.
He hid his uncomfortable, traitorous feelings by doing paperwork. Mary stayed busy sewing all sorts of things. He’d see her fingers flying and find himself intrigued by the motion.
There was a grace to her movements, a slender fragility in her hands that belied the briskness of her stitches. She urged Josie to sew, even offering a fancy little doodad for her finger, but the little girl alternated between sleeping, yapping and sitting in stony silence.
Finally, after the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and smells and noises, they arrived at Portland’s Union Station.
“Ewww, what’s that smell?” Josie wrinkled her nose.
Lou hooked a finger into the collar of her dress to keep her close by. “You should be used to it.”
“The odor is strong,” Mary remarked, moving closer as passengers jostled around her. She clutched her luggage to her chest.
“Here, let me take that.” Before she could protest, he hefted her suitcase from her arms and tilted Josie toward her. “You hold the boy’s hand.”
Josie giggled. “I’m a girl.”
“You are?” He waggled his brows at her, enjoying the mood of the city with all its quick pace and noise. Various smells permeated the air.
Musky river odors dominated the brisk breeze, padded with other scents that weren’t altogether unpleasant. Sounds reverberated all around, talking, clanging from streetcars, horns from automobiles...the city at last. Smiling, Lou gestured to a spot on the sidewalk near the Romanesque clock tower, the depot’s glory piece.
“We’ll go over there to talk,” he yelled. Ushering them ahead of him, he guided them through the crowd to a quiet spot against the wall of the building.
Mary’s eyes were wary. “It’s changed.”
“How long since you’ve been here?”
“Since I was a wee girl. Perhaps twenty years?” Her brow furrowed.
“Back then, the roads used to turn to mud from all the rain. They had to build wooden sidewalks to get out of the mess. Now look at it.” He waved at the busyness around them. “Electric streetcars are the way to travel now.”
“I like the red ones,” Josie chimed in, beaming a smile at him.
He couldn’t resist smiling back, though there was the slightest pain to it. In a very short time, this charming sprite would leave them for good. He knelt down in front of her. “Did you take a lot of red cars?”
“My mommy likes them, when she feels good. We went up really, really high.” She leaned toward him, eyes wide and bright. “I wanted to touch the sky.”
She obviously meant the Council Crest streetcar. It was a popular attraction, taking people from Portland into the highest parts of the hills around them. He knew the feeling of wanting to reach too high. And the rip of the spiral downward.
Throat tight, he touched her face briefly. Then he stood and scanned the station and the roads leading out of it.
“What next?” Mary asked.
He noted her knuckles white on the handle of her luggage. “We’ve got to get Josie home. That’s first on the list. Then I have a meeting with the head agent on my case this evening at the Portland Hotel. The bureau has reserved rooms for us. Did you bring a dress?”
“N-no,” she sputtered. “I did not realize—” she cast a look at Josie “—that we’d be staying the night.”
“You’ll go home in the morning.”
“You’re staying?”
“I’ve got to keep an eye on Josie and her mama.” He shifted on the heels of his feet, not liking the look on her face. “I’ve been out of commission for weeks. There’s paperwork, unsolved cases, interrogations, not to mention catching the sap who shot me.”
Was it his imagination or did something spark in that dark gaze of hers?
“Do I have to go back?” Josie interrupted them and for once, Lou was glad for it.
He avoided Mary’s frown, turning to Josie instead. “Your mommy needs you, but I’m going to personally make sure that no one hurts you again, okay?”
Her bottom lip quivered and suddenly Lou’s good mood deserted him. Two upset females was more than any sane man could handle. He fixed them both with a stern look despite the pain in his heart. “Look here, girls, I’ve got work to finish up and don’t have time to cart you around Portland.”
Josie burst into tears. Lou tripped trying to back up, but righted himself against the wall of the station. Horrified, he watched as the girl sobbed as though her heart were breaking.
And maybe it was.
An unwelcome spear of conscience poked him. Even though he’d arranged for bureau protection, that wouldn’t start until tomorrow. For today, what was he returning her to? He’d asked a junior agent to poke around in the girl’s mother’s background, but his agent found nothing problematic. The family came from money, the father was deceased and they lived in a good part of town.
If he could, he’d never take the girl back, but the threat of a lawsuit was a very real problem he couldn’t ignore.
But why did Josie insist on staying with Mary and him? A nagging pressure in his chest distracted him. He rubbed his heart, watching as Mary scooped Josie close, cradling her. Much as he had when he carried Josie to the ranch on his horse.
Frowning, he rubbed harder, but the ache refused to lessen. More and more, Abby came to memory. Her chubby smile. The scent of her skin, soft as a foundli
ng’s feathers. How he’d felt when he watched Sarah hold her... Something pricked his eyes and he blinked hard.
Enough of this.
Setting his jaw, he strode forward and snatched up their luggage. “Let’s go, ladies.”
He felt the fume in Mary’s glare but chose to ignore it. Tension filled the space between them all the way to the neighborhood where Josie’s mother resided. He glanced at the telegram in his hand, then flicked a look at Mary.
Her face was stone. Several people had given her curious looks. Some more disdainful than curious. Oregon’s population was mostly Caucasian, and racial barriers rose high and impenetrable. The usual victims of the whites’ prejudice were the Asian immigrants who worked in the lumber mills for next to nothing in pay.
But Mary, with her exotic features and dark eyes, qualified for being too different and thus drew attention. Lou knew the feeling, having visited China and being the only blue-eyed man in a sea of dark-eyed faces.
Their streetcar shuddered to a stop. People rose to exit and Lou looked over at Mary. “This is it.”
Eyes blank, she handed him the luggage and took Josie’s hand. He was determined not to look at the little girl anymore, for her tear-stained face was starting to give him heartburn.
It seemed he couldn’t win no matter what he wanted. Mary refused to show her emotions, and Josie was all feeling. Setting his jaw, he led them out of the streetcar, and as a resolute trio, they found the address listed on his telegram.
Josie’s mother. Mrs. Lauren Silver. He unlatched the gate and ushered Mary and Josie ahead of him. The house loomed before them, tall and freshly painted. The fumes permeated the humid summer air. A set of steps led to an ornate door. Baskets and pots of flowers surrounded the porch, and their floral scents became more apparent as they neared the front door.
“I don’t like this house,” Josie muttered, her little legs lifting high to manage the stairs.
“You live here a long time?” Lou inquired carefully. Everything inside roared for him to snatch the ladies and run. He couldn’t do it, though. That was a sure ticket to jail, and then how would he protect them?
Rocky Mountain Dreams & Family on the Range Page 36