Legacy of Honor

by Renae Brumbaugh Green

  “Oh, hellllloooo, darlin’. They told me there was a new housssse...keeper. But I didn’t know you were such a purdy thang, or I’d’ve come callin’ sooner.”

  That the man was inebriated, there was no doubt. Though Allison had never witnessed a drunk person before, she’d heard enough to recognize the slurred speech and glazed eyes. Besides, the man reeked of alcohol. Emma stood up, nearly knocking over her teacup in the process, and her heart sped like a hummingbird in flight.

  The man looked enough like Riley to be his brother. This must be Donnigan. “Hello, Mr. Stratton. How m-may I help you?’

  He appraised her head to toe, in a most inappropriate way, and said, “I can think of quite a few ways you can help me, little lady.”

  Her entire being pounded with alarm. Should she scream? No one would hear. Run? Perhaps… “I...I’ve been expecting you, sir. I believe I’m supposed to be introduced to your daughter. Your father mentioned she’d be spending time here, on occasion.”

  The man continued his leering, so she pressed on. “There are plenty of leftovers on the stove, if you’re hungry.” She spoke in a steady, soft tone, the way she handled Sugar when she was spooked. At the same time, she inched toward the dining room. She couldn’t very well escape through the back door, since he was blocking it. “And there’s a pitcher of sweet tea, right there on the counter.”

  “That soundsss delicious, ma’am. Why don’t you come right on over here and pour me a glass.” He shuffled forward. Emma looked around for a weapon, praying she wouldn’t need one.

  “I…” What could she say? Politeness might encourage him. Rudeness anger him.

  For the first time in many weeks—the first time since Ma struggled for her last breath—Emma cried out to God. Help me!

  The door opened behind the man, and Emma gasped. Did he have a friend with him? A young girl entered. She possessed the long, straight nose and wide, almond-shaped eyes common to the Strattons, but her skin was dark. Raven-black hair raggedly parted in the middle and hung over her shoulders in two braids. She wore a soiled, beaded buckskin dress and moccasins.

  “Pa?” Her frightened eyes looked from Emma to her father, then back to Emma.

  “I told you to stay outside!” Donnigan hissed. “You know better than to follow me in here.”

  “But you forgot this.” She held out a lunch pail. Her voice was so soft, so timid, Emma wanted to take the child in her arms and protect her from this beast.

  She had always heard coffee could sober a drunk man, but apparently, a child could do the same. The girl’s presence, her frightened voice, caught the man’s attention and transformed him somehow. The glaze seemed to pass from his expression, and a flicker of shame flashed before he blinked, then placed one hand behind his neck and hung his head.

  “Thank you.” He took the pail, then looked at Emma as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m sssorry if I frightened you, ma’am. I usually stop in lllate at night, but last night I...well...I wasn’t able to get here.”

  Emma wasn’t sure what to say, so she just nodded.

  The girl kept her head down, as if she wanted to disappear into the wall.

  The man cleared his throat. “I’m Donnigan Stratton, and thhhis is my daughter, Skye.”

  His thick speech told Emma the man wasn’t completely sober yet, but at least he seemed a little less...dangerous. She focused on the girl.

  “What a lovely name that is, Skye. And you’re a lovely young lady.”

  The girl studied her moccasins and mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “Is everything okay in here?” Riley’s voice behind her was one of the most beautiful sounds she’d ever heard, and she wanted to jump into his arms. Despite her feelings about his family, she knew no harm would come to her in Riley’s presence.

  Donnigan said some things under his breath that both embarrassed and angered Emma—more for the child’s sake than for her own. Then he looked at Riley. “Everything’s just fine. We were just leavin’. Come on, Skye.”

  He turned to go, but all Emma could think about was the little girl with the enormous, frightened eyes, who was probably very hungry.

  “No, wait. Please. Let me send some of these leftovers home with you. They’ll go bad if they don’t get eaten.” Emma spoke in her practice teacher voice, in a way that was more command than request, and grabbed a chipped platter off the countertop. She had meant to ask Allison what she wished to do with it, but now, it sat there begging to be used. She filled the plate with leftover ham and green beans and sweet potatoes, then covered it with a cloth and placed it beside the lunch pail, which she filled with fluffy dinner rolls, a crock of butter, and a pile of test cookies she’d made that morning, with a new recipe.

  Skye watched her with wide eyes and a round mouth, but she didn’t say a word. Both Riley and Donnigan stared as well, but she pretended not to notice either of them. Instead, she handed the girl one of the cookies. “I’m not sure about this recipe. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”

  The child looked at the cookie, then at Emma, then at her Pa as if begging permission to take the treat. He nodded, and she reached a tentative hand. Instead of eating it, she slipped the cookie into her pocket and went back to looking at her feet.

  “Much obliged, ma’am.” Donnigan followed Skye out the back door. On the steps outside, he turned back to her. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

  Emma didn’t answer. What could she say? The man’s behavior had been deplorable. It was almost as if she’d witnessed, in that short span of time, two men living in the same body. She’d heard alcohol could do such things to people, but now she had seen it with her own eyes.

  When the door was shut, Riley closed the distance between them. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” It was all she could do to keep her voice steady.

  “Emma, I’m so sorry. I should have warned you about Donnigan. Should have told you to keep the back door locked, especially when no one else is here.”

  “Duly noted.” She struggled to keep her composure. Part of her wanted to sit down and bawl her eyes out. The other part wanted to scream in outrage over that little girl’s plight. Instead, she took a deep breath and asked, “When can I start caring for Skye?”

  Riley sat down at the table and gestured for her to do the same. She did, and took a long, calming sip of her now lukewarm tea before offering Riley some.

  “No thank you.” He leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, and breathed deeply. “Donnigan and Skye showed up here a couple of months ago, and Donnigan’s been drinking ever since. He mourns his wife, and he’s not handling it well. Problem is, Dad wants nothing to do with either of them. Well...that’s not exactly true. He wants Donnigan to get cleaned up and make something of himself, but he refuses to acknowledge Skye as his granddaughter. Says she brings shame on the family name.

  “But Donnigan is family, and family is important to my father. He would rather Donnigan be here than hauled in for public intoxication. Reputation and community standing is also important to my father, and he doesn’t want some do-gooder gossips getting involved. You know how people are when it comes to Indians. Like it or not, it’s the way things are.”

  John Stratton’s concern wasn’t for the child, it was for his reputation. Emma knew she had no right to hate anyone, but for the life of her, she didn’t know how she was supposed to like that man, even a little. Everything about him made her stomach turn. But this...this rejection of an innocent child. It made her want to kick him. Spit in his food. It made her want to act like the wild savage he made his granddaughter out to be. He deserved it.

  Then again, he wasn’t wrong about public perception. They were little more than a generation removed from The Webster Massacre of 1839. Sweet Anne Webster, in her 80s, lost nearly her entire family. Hatred for the natives ran deep in these parts. What would they do to little Skye?

  “Why isn’t she in school?” As soon as she asked the question, she knew
how ridiculous it sounded. Would Skye even be safe in school?

  Riley looked at her, and she knew his thoughts mirrored her own. “I doubt she’s ever had formal schooling. Donnigan’s probably never thought of it, to be honest. And with Dad’s attitude about her, he’d be furious if she showed up in town wearing the Stratton name like a badge of honor. As I said, they’ve only been here a few months, and they pretty much keep to themselves.”

  An idea came to her. “I could use an assistant.”

  “What?”

  “I’d like Skye to be my assistant. She could come each day and help me cook and keep house. And I could teach her some...life skills, that she’s probably not getting from her father. Since she’s not attending school, I think this is a better alternative than showing up here randomly, when her father is too...uhm...when he’s not able to care for her. Can you make that happen?”

  Riley looked at her in an odd way that made her want to blush to her toes, but she held his gaze. Lifted her chin. And, she wished he’d stop staring at her like she was the last piece of pie at the buffet.

  Chapter 5

  She must have taken Riley’s silence for hesitance. She huffed, stiffened her back, and set her teacup down on the table so hard its contents nearly splashed out. “Riley Stratton, that little girl is frightened half out of her mind. I know I only saw her for a few minutes, but she’s lost her mother and there’s no telling what she has to put up with from her father. I once had aspirations to become a teacher. And though that will probably never happen now, I would like the opportunity to make a difference in a child’s life. Please, Riley. You know she’ll be better off here than down in some shack with a drunk father.”

  A teacher. Riley hadn’t known that, though it didn’t surprise him. “You’ll get no arguments from me. It’s my father you’ll have to convince. He doesn’t exactly want to come in contact with her. The reason he asked you about watching her is because he wants to make sure he doesn’t have to lay eyes on her. That will be hard if she’s here all day, every day.”

  Emma’s shoulders slumped. “I...maybe you could talk to him?”

  Riley chuckled, not because the situation held any humor, but because the woman before him was the most adorable creature he’d ever observed. Why someone hadn’t married her already, he had no idea. If he was the marrying kind, and if she weren’t far above his station when it came to goodness and grace, he might be tempted to snag her for himself. But he wasn’t the marrying kind, at least not for an innocent. He could never bring someone like her into this family. Why, the Stratton way of life would crush her like a bug. All the lying. Underhanded deals. Blackmail.

  Not that Riley had taken part in any of that, though he’d sure watched Dad and Colt bully to get their way. He’d managed to escape most of the nastier stuff, but he knew the day was fast approaching when he’d be expected to do his father’s bidding for some sour-tasting business. It was the price they all paid, to have a lot of money. It came with the name. And it nauseated him.

  Mom had never approved of Dad’s ways. What she ever saw in Dad, Riley wasn’t sure. But now that he looked back with adult perspective, he remembered sadness in her eyes. Sorrow. He could hear the arguments that were never intended for his ears, as he sat outside the study door to make sure Mom was all right. He remembered her begging Dad, through tears, not to put this fellow out of business or force that one to sell. The doctor’s report said she died of consumption. More likely she’d died of a broken heart.

  No, he could never drag an innocent into this mess of a family. If he ever did marry, the best he could hope for was someone who was smart enough to look the other way.

  “Please? I know you can figure something out.” Emma’s eyes peered into his soul.

  What were they talking about? Oh. Skye. “I’ll see what I can do.” And he would.

  “I do appreciate it.” Emma ran her finger along the handle of her cup. “She’s a lovely child, and well, I suppose we both know what it feels like to lose a mother.” Emma’s voice was hushed, her tone almost reverent.

  Shame stung Riley’s conscience like vinegar in a wound. Why hadn’t he taken more of an interest in the child? Granted, he’d only returned home from university a month ago. Still, that was no excuse to let the girl suffer without trying to soothe her pain.

  And why hadn’t he thought to warn Emma about Donnigan? Oh, he felt certain his brother wouldn’t harm Emma, but she didn’t know that. And Donnigan wasn’t the same gentle soul when he’d been drinking. “I should have warned you about his drinking.”

  Emma let the silence grow long and thick between them before she answered. “No harm done.”

  Riley looked around at the spotless kitchen. Even with Davis to care for on occasion, Emma had brought their home to ship-shape in very little time. It didn’t look to him like she needed an assistant.

  That Emma cared more for his own flesh and blood than anyone in his family embarrassed him. Sometimes, being a Stratton was a privilege. Other times, it was a curse. But it was his curse to bear, as long as he wore the last name. He reached for his neckpiece and tried to loosen it.

  Allison waltzed into the kitchen quite abruptly, as if she’d caught them in something scandalous. “Well, now. Isn’t this cozy?” She looked at Emma as if she were some kind of two-bit trollop. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  Emma’s eyes flashed as much kerosene as Allison’s voice, but she only said, “Yes, ma’am. I apologize.” She took her teacup, still half full, and dumped it in the sink, then grabbed her coat from its peg. “I was just about to head to town for groceries.”

  “Good. We’re having guests next Thursday evening. Would you mind preparing something a little extra special?”

  Allison’s eyes held a glint that meant she was up to something.

  “Certainly, Mrs. Stratton.” Emma buttoned her coat as she spoke. “Do you have something specific in mind?”

  “Yes. I’d like you to prepare this.” She handed Emma a page that looked like it had been ripped from a circular. “And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to stay and serve, since it’s a special occasion. I’ll pay you overtime, of course.”

  Emma looked at the page, then folded it and placed it in her pocket. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Good.” Allison cast a superior look around the room, paused at Riley a moment as if appraising him for auction, then left the kitchen. “Riley, don’t you have work as well?” she called over her shoulder.

  She didn’t wait for a response, and he didn’t give one. Instead, he followed Emma out the back door. “I’ll go with you. I have business in town.”

  “Suit yourself, Mr. Stratton. But I’m driving.”

  “I was hoping I could persuade you to let me take the surrey. It hasn’t been driven in ages.”

  “Your sister-in-law drove it to town yesterday.”

  “Oh. So she did. I’d still like to drive you to town.” She’d enjoy a ride in a surrey. Didn’t all women? Surely that would lift her spirits. He recalled the extra chocolate-chip cookies Mrs. Monroe packed into his lunch every day, just after Mom died. They didn’t take away his hurt. But knowing someone cared enough to brighten his day, the way Mom had, did lighten the load.

  Emma let out an exasperated sigh, with a slight grin that gave him just the result he hoped for. “Oh, all right. But only if you promise me you’ll talk to your father and brother about Skye. Today.”

  “Deal.”

  Emma studied the four-course menu Allison had given her on the way to town, and chewed her lip so much she nearly drew blood. She’d never heard of some of these dishes. And the recipes weren’t included, only the names. The page was clearly ripped from a ladies’ magazine, but which one?

  That Allison wanted to trip her up was obvious, but Emma wouldn’t let on that it bothered her a whit. She’d just have to figure this out. At home, she had all of Ma’s cookbooks. She’d just have to leaf through them tonight until she found the recipe
s.

  She wished she hadn’t agreed to let Riley accompany her. She could have stopped by the house on the way to town to get the books, and referred to them while she shopped. Now she’d have to make another trip to town. Maybe she could send Lyndel with a shopping list. He could drop it off before school and pick up the order at the end of the day. But now that he walked to and from school, he’d have a hard time carrying it all.

  “What’s that look for?” Riley asked. She’d almost forgotten he was there.

  “What look?”

  “The one where you’re looking at the page Allison handed you like it was written by the devil himself.”

  “Riley Stratton. What a terrible thing to say.” But now that he’d said it, she almost agreed. Perhaps the devil didn’t write it, but he’d certainly played a role in handing it to her.

  A slight pang of guilt rose in her for thinking such an uncharitable thought about Allison. Yes, the woman was awful. But she wasn’t the devil.

  At least Emma hoped not.

  Riley chuckled, and she realized he was waiting for her answer. “I...I just...I’m not familiar with some of these dishes. But it will be fine. My mother has several cookbooks at home. I’m sure I’ll find the recipes there.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I know my sister-in-law. She takes pleasure in making people look foolish. I’m sure she gave you that menu in hopes of watching you fail.”

  “Failure is not in my vocabulary. Or have you forgotten so quickly?”

  He laughed. “Oh, no. I’ll never forget how you humiliated me in every last spelling bee we had. A girl. And three years younger than me. I was scarred for life.”