Rebecca's Hope

by Kimberly Grist

  “Bah, what you have seen is one of Elizabeth Brooks’ daughters. If I didn’t know it myself, I could see how they could be mistaken for Leah’s child.” Taking out his pocket watch, Charles gazed at a photo. “My wife and her cousin were very similar in appearance.”

  He heaved a sigh and nodded his head. “Yes, they are all lovely. I have seen them all together recently at a local social. Let me say your daughter is a very petite version of her cousins.”

  Charles's gaze jumped to his, his eyes widening. The investigator had finally gotten his attention. Becky had always been small. Could this be true? Shaking his head, he said, “I will not be pulled into this madness.”

  “Again, Mr. Mueller, you paid me to do a job. I did it. If you would like, I could do some additional investigation on your bookkeeper. If you would allow me to see his ledger, it’s possible we could get to the bottom of this quickly.”

  After being met with a stony silence, the investigator continued, “No matter what course of action is taken, you have your report. I am grieved to present it as I would have liked to have earned that bonus.”

  Putting on his hat to leave, he paused. “You haven’t asked for my advice, Mr. Mueller. Nonetheless, I will give it to you. If it were me, I would be hightailing it to the Brooks home where I would beg on bended knee for my daughter to forgive me. From all accounts, she is both kind and compassionate. Maybe she will give you a chance to make it up to her.”

  “You are right on one thing, Mr. Cumming, I didn’t ask for your advice.”

  “I will bid you good day, sir. Feel free to contact me if you ever have need of my services or if you have any questions about the report.”

  Jacob Weber waited patiently for a response before finally breaking the silence, “Charles, as you are aware, our court hearing is approaching. This is the third report that brought the same results. My own brother has been acquainted with Rebecca while she lived in Carrie Town these last several years. Perhaps it might be in everyone’s best interest to meet with her personally. The Brooks family has certainly offered to bring her to meet with you on a number of occasions.”

  “Bah. I told you what I think of Elizabeth Brooks. None of this is true. I am sure of it.”

  “This is certainly beyond anything I could imagine. Nevertheless, the facts are stacking up against us. Which leads me again to this question, what if your daughter is here in town waiting to meet you? Do you actually want to meet her as an oppositional force in court?”

  “My opinion is unchanged, Jacob. She is not my daughter. I have wired my business partner. I asked him to return as soon as possible. He should be able to give us the information to disprove all of this. I expect you to represent me to that effect.”

  Chapter 25

  Dear Papa,

  Papa Horace passed away today. Even though he tried to prepare me, I didn’t handle it well. I cried so hard. I lost my breath. It has been years since I have had an attack. My heart is broken. Please come…

  Waiting at the train station, Rebecca stared excitedly at the tracks for the past due train. Elizabeth wanted to let Sam’s visit be a surprise; however, Sara Jane had not been able to keep the secret. She fretted over Rebecca all morning and coaxed her to wear her hair down under her new bonnet. She had been happy with her appearance and laughed at Sara Jane’s comment that they could be twins.

  Sara Jane waved her fan. “Mama, what time did they say the train would arrive? It is so hot out here.”

  Rebecca had come to love her cousins. She watched as Elizabeth glanced at her heart-shaped watch pinned to her dress and admired her firm but patient response to her daughter. “Settle down, Sara Jane, it should be any minute now.”

  “Look, Rebecca, I believe I see smoke. Yes, it is the train. Isn’t it, Mama? Oh, I am so excited.”

  Elizabeth shook her head at her daughter. “If I didn’t know better I would say we were here to meet your beau, Sara Jane.”

  “Oh, Mama. I am excited for Rebecca. After all, as much as we have heard about Sam, I feel as though he is an old friend.”

  Sara Jane squeezed Rebecca’s arm. “Aren’t you excited?” Not waiting for a response, she continued, “I know you must be.”

  Rebecca felt her stomach churning. She tried to moisten her lips, but her mouth was as dry as sawdust. “It’s probably best I do not get my hopes up. Sam is busy and can’t afford to take this much time off from work.” Sweat broke across her forehead as she watched as passengers began to disembark. Finally, she saw the familiar figure of Peter, striding purposely in their direction. Feeling her lips quiver, she looked away, trying not to show her disappointment.

  Sara Jane elbowed Rebecca. “Take a look at him, why don’t you?”

  Glancing in the direction where Sara Jane motioned, Rebecca saw a muscular cowboy with a saddle draped over one shoulder, carrying a tote in his other arm. His blue shirt and vest hinted at broad shoulders and narrow waist.

  Sara Jane whispered. “Isn’t he handsome?”

  “I don’t see how you would know if he is handsome,” Rebecca countered, “between his hat and saddle…”

  As soon as the word saddle was out of her mouth, Rebecca stared. Feeling the familiar squeeze on her elbow, she turned again. “Sara Jane, I can’t hear out of that ear, what is it you are saying?”

  Attempting to be inconspicuous, Sara Jane tipped her head slightly. “Could that be…”

  Rebecca gasped. “Sam.”

  Shifting the weight of his saddle, Sam turned toward the sound of her voice with a furrowed brow as he searched the crowded boardwalk.

  Feeling a little bolder, she stepped forward, calling his name again. Recognition crossed his face as he pushed his way through the crowd. “Becca, honey, I walked right past you. I guess I didn’t recognize you in your new hat.” Placing the saddle at his feet, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You are a sight for sore eyes, for sure. I missed you so much.”

  Blushing, she said, “I saw Peter but didn’t see you. I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

  Sighing, he squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry I worried you. I would have sent word ahead of time if I weren’t going to make it.” Sam leaned forward and winked. “Trust me. Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away.”

  Sara Jane elbowed Rebecca again. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  Rebecca, filled with relief, laughed as she grabbed Sara Jane’s arm to prevent any further assault on her ribs. “Sam, let me introduce you to my cousin, Sara Jane. Sara Jane, this is Sam.”

  Sara Jane responded in her best southern drawl, a smile and a twirl of her parasol. “Indeed, it is a pleasure.”

  With a slight rise to the eyebrows and a teasing grin, Sam turned to Rebecca. “Let me store this saddle and then why don’t we go get something to eat? I don’t know about you ladies, but I am starving.”

  “Now don’t you worry about dinner, Mama has everything taken care of. We are going to eat at our house in town. She’s waiting for us over there with the attorney. Rebecca tells me you like fried chicken. Our cook is trying to teach her, did she tell you?”

  As Sara Jane prattled on, Sam offered his arm and leaned closer to Rebecca. He whispered. “Does she ever stop talking?”

  Shaking her head in response, they laughed softly together as Sara Jane continued her one-way conversation. Feeling the warmth of Sam’s arm as he held her hand in the crook of his, Rebecca could still hardly believe he was here. As she silently prayed her thanks to God, she felt genuinely content for the first time in years.

  Chapter 26

  Dear Papa,

  Mr. Marks offered me a job at his law office. I will be going to stay in town at the boarding house until I hear from you. Please come...

  Charles Mueller walked through the front door of his home searching for his wife. Finding no signs of her, he motioned for his stepson Robert. “I am assuming James has not arrived, so bring the accounting ledger. You and I are going to go over it line by line.”

&
nbsp; Charles opened the door to the office he shared with James Taylor, his friend, business partner, and accountant for the past twelve years. He was a relative of his wife, and she pressured him to give him a chance. Charles had been hesitant about hiring him but desperate to find an accountant that could work with his wife, had given him the job.

  Surprisingly, the two forged a friendship. James proved his worth many times over by implementing improvements that produced solid profits. It was James who suggested they purchase more hay for the winter. Advice Charles had half-heartedly taken. However, his instinct was correct, and they were able to avoid catastrophe. James, again, suggested he hire drovers to bring cattle to Kansas.

  Traveling ten to fifteen miles a day slowly driving the cattle to market, Charles had eaten a daily diet of coffee, beef, beans, biscuits, and dust. Financially, it was all worth it. The last few years the need to drive cattle was no longer necessary as they were able to ship by rail to the nearby slaughterhouses.

  An added benefit was the additional time at home allowed him the opportunity to pour his life into his two young sons, who were now eleven and six. Much to their mother’s vexation, they loved ranching almost as much as he did.

  Hearing a door slam, Charles rose to investigate and was met by his stepdaughter, Lucy, loaded with packages. Clearing his throat, he said, “Lucy, I believe I made my feelings clear on the extent of your shopping trips. You have not remained within budget the last six months. There seems to be no end to your extravagance. I am putting my foot down. Whatever those packages are, unless it is produce for our pantry, turn around and take it back.”

  “Papa, you startled me. I didn’t expect you to be here today.”

  “I can see you are surprised.”

  “Mama wanted me to have these things for my birthday party. Besides, I can’t take them back.”

  “Why?”

  “Mama insisted on certain things, and everything was tailored specifically for me. I simply can’t return anything.”

  “Very well. However, I am warning you, young lady, as I see I have no choice but to go into the shops personally. The shopkeepers will be told they are not to accept any orders on credit from either of you. You would be wise not to treat this as an idle threat. This will not be the first time I have visited the merchants regarding your mother’s shopping habits.”

  “Papa, how embarrassing. I can’t believe you would do that to me.” Crying, Lucy ran up the stairs to her room, slamming the door.

  Exasperated, he turned back to the office where his stepson Robert was waiting.

  Although both Robert and Lucy inherited their mother’s dark hair and brown eyes, that is where the similarity ended. Robert was the opposite in personality. He was quiet, considerate, displayed a good work ethic and never asked for anything, preferring to make his own way.

  “Pa, I have been examining these books over the last week. Admittedly, I am at my wit’s end to balance anything related to the household expenses. I took the liberty of searching through James’ desk when I remembered he told me Mother handled the household expenditures.”

  Charles watched Robert stack journals with receipts and small items of paper protruding from their binding.

  “I rue the day I agreed to let your mother have her own personal account,” Charles said. Grimacing, he thought back on what torture each month brought and the many hours he spent with Louisa stressing the importance of making note of each expenditure. She inevitably would break down in tears, crying and complaining. “Why it’s none of their business what I buy and for whom or for what. Am I your wife or a servant?”

  Wanting to put a stop to her nagging, reluctantly he’d agreed to set up an account for Louisa with specific amounts each month for household items, clothes, and entertainment. It was a budget she treated with total disregard and another source of irritation which strained their relationship.

  Charles smiled at Robert, who looked embarrassed by the state of his mother’s bookkeeping. “Yes, your mother, much to my irritation, handles all of the household expenses. How she handles them is another matter. What does this have to do with the monies related to my daughter?”

  Robert searched through the pile and pulled out several items. “There is a memo written by James and initialed by you as authorization for any funds related to Becky to be paid from the household account.”

  Looking at his stepfather, he proceeded. “From a bookkeeping standpoint, it makes sense, to have the household expense separate from the ranch. Since Mother has overseen those expenditures, it is challenging to make sense of the records. From what I can tell, she overspent her budget each month in excessive amounts.”

  Charles sighed. While he ran a profitable business, Robert’s mother and sister’s extravagant lifestyle had been a constant strain on his budget.

  Robert took a deep breath. “Pa, when my mother married you, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. You have been a father to me, and I am more grateful than you will ever know.”

  Swallowing and motioning at the general disarray of his mother’s accounts, he continued, “But based on what I have been able to determine through these records, Becky hasn’t been provided for financially—in years.”

  Slamming his hands on his desk, Charles growled. “I am sick to death of hearing this. Am I the kind of man who would not support my own child? I would never disrespect my wife’s memory in that way. My daughter has been my driving force to make a success of the ranch. I wanted to fulfill the dream Leah and I had for Becky and what we hoped would be a house full of our children.”

  Stopping, Charles took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Robert, I mean no disrespect to you, in this. You have been a source of pleasure for me and would make any man proud to call you son. I care for you no less than I do your brothers, Charlie and Mark.”

  Charles reached for his pocket watch, not to check the time, but in fact to gaze at the photo of his first wife and child. “When James gets back he will be able to clear this up, I am sure.”

  “I hope so. I truly do. If not, I promise you, I will find a way to pay this all back.”

  “What?” Feeling his gut wrench, Charles continued almost hesitantly, “Robert, it is not like you to be dramatic. What have you found?”

  Taking his handkerchief, Robert wiped the sweat from his brow as he reached for his notes. “Maybe, it will be best if I start by showing you how I have come to this conclusion. I can only pray there are some facts you might add which will disprove my theory.”

  Chapter 27

  Dear Papa,

  Mr. Marks told me today that you sent all of my letters back without reading them. Molly thought it might make me feel better to write my thoughts down. I am reluctant to do so because Aunt Eloise taught me to mind my tongue. I feel confident she would not encourage me to put pen to paper in this case…

  Sam took Rebecca’s hand and leaned forward. “Whatever you want is fine by me. I will support your decision. If at any point you decide all of this is too much, I will respect that. Either way, I want to be by your side.”

  Elizabeth smiled at Sam yet watched Rebecca with concern. “I keep hoping the worst is behind us.”

  Not trusting her voice to remain steady, Rebecca tried to maintain a calm appearance. She was relieved to see the door open as the doctor entered the office.

  “Hello again, young lady. I see you have brought some additional reinforcement,” he said, chuckling at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Now, let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? I found your case fascinating. Especially as it relates to your physicians who took an opposite approach to your treatment.”

  Dr.Ziegler removed his eyeglasses and began polishing them distractedly as he reviewed Rebecca’s patient file. “I believe Dr. Benton’s approach not only saved your life but allowed you to lead what most would see as a normal life with little impediment.”

  “From a physician’s viewpoint, based on the reports of your physical condition when you were a patien
t of Dr. Duran’s, my professional opinion would have been you would not survive childhood.”

  Elizabeth gasped, and Rebecca felt Sam stiffen. However, she was not surprised by the doctor’s assessment. Sam, having recovered his composure, grinned and commented, “Doc, if you knew how stubborn she is, you wouldn’t have been surprised at all.”

  Dr. Ziegler laughed, nodding in agreement. “Call it what you will—stubbornness, luck, grit, or the hand of God, statistics would suggest you beat the odds, young lady. The reason I say this is simply to make you aware your current state of good health would be enough to make one question whether you could possibly be the same Rebecca Mueller treated all those years ago. However, there are a few specific facts I think should be brought to the forefront.”

  Taking her hand and turning it over, he remarked, “Your chart indicates more than 15 stitches on the palm of your right hand. You have a scar on the same hand matching the description. Do you remember how you received the injury?”

  Uncomfortable, Rebecca retrieved her trembling hand and placed it on her lap.

  Sensing her distress, Sam whispered, “Rebecca honey, you don’t have to do this. Give me the word, then you and I will walk out of here.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath then shook her head. “No, I want to answer. I do have some memory of how it happened, as well as recurring nightmares over the years.”

  “Tell me what you can remember,” the doctor urged.

  “When I went to live with my father after he remarried, my stepsister and I did not get along. She was given the bedroom my mother decorated for me. I hated everything about my new room, since it was small, hot, and the window was nailed shut. I was angry. I remember telling my stepmother Lucy shouldn’t be there and she should be given the smaller room.

  “There was never a moment’s peace between Lucy and me. I was miserable. I spent most of my time in the kitchen with the cook, trying to avoid Lucy. It was the one area in the house she avoided. One of the last days I remember living at the ranch, my father saw Lucy teasing me about my ragdoll. He made her give me one of her fancy ceramic dolls to play with. When I woke up the next day, my ragdoll’s hair had been cut off. I was furious and stormed into Lucy’s room while she was still in bed and well…I whaled into her. She denied any wrongdoing and went crying to her mother.”