Chapter 21
Emma was at a loss for how to comfort Skye. If only she’d sob. Or scream. Or ask questions. But other than a few silent tears, Skye simply withdrew into herself. She held her doll close. She crawled in bed when Emma told her to. And she closed her eyes as if nothing were strange or odd, as if she hadn’t just become an orphan in the full sense.
But Emma didn’t want to push the child. Everyone grieved differently, Emma of all people knew that to be true. So she snuggled the girl close through the night. She let her sleep late, and made sure there was plenty of batter to make her hot griddlecakes as soon as she woke up.
The house was still quiet, for both Pa and Lyndel slept far past the sun. After last night’s events, she probably should have stayed in bed too. But she couldn’t sleep.
And she’d heard Riley say he’d be here in the morning. If he didn’t come soon, it would be afternoon.
Her eyes stung. Her throat felt like it had been yanked through a thousand razor blades. But her heart...her heart was drowning. There was too much sorrow in this world.
So she did the only thing she could think of. She sat in Pa’s chair, Ma’s fabric box pulled close to her feet, and cut out a pattern for a new dress for Skye, and a matching one for Rilene. As if a new dress could make everything better.
Of course it wouldn’t, but she needed to keep her hands busy.
She tried to pray, but her mind was so muddled she couldn’t form coherent thoughts. So she just kept thinking, over and over, God, help. Please...help.
Hoof beats sounded outside, which must be Riley. Yet she was so weary, her body wouldn’t respond when she told herself to get up and open the door.
He knocked. Then he opened the door. She knew he would.
“Come in,” she croaked.
After removing his hat, he stepped inside and looked around...looked at everything in the room except at her. He looked twenty years older than he had just yesterday. “Where is everyone?” His voice was scratchy. Heavens. He must have inhaled more smoke than she did.
She lay aside the dress and went for the tea kettle. “They’re all still asleep. Sit down. Let me fix you some tea with lemon and honey. That should soothe your throat some.”
“Don’t bother. I can’t stay long. Lots of plans to make. Gotta meet with the preacher. Funeral’s set for Friday. Can I see Skye?” He still hadn’t looked at her.
“Certainly. Follow me.” She led him down the hall to her room and opened the door. Skye lay on her side, staring at the wall.
Riley sat on the end of the bed and placed his hand where Skye’s foot lay beneath the quilt. “Good morning.”
She didn’t respond.
“I’ve got to run into town to see to some things for your daddy’s funeral. Would you like to come?”
Still no response.
“All right then. I’m gonna leave you here with Emma. I know she’ll take good care of you. I’ll be back to check on you this afternoon.”
Skye sat up then, pushed back the covers, and crawled right into Riley’s lap. Rested her head against his chest. Put her arms around his neck.
Emma was afraid, from the expression on his face, that this might be his undoing. She felt like an interloper, leaning against the doorframe, watching a private family moment. As quietly as she could, she turned and padded back down the hall toward the kitchen. Now seemed like a good time to start those griddlecakes.
She was going to ask if he wanted some, but he didn’t give her a chance. She heard his heavy footsteps coming up the hallway. Instead of stopping, he walked right through the dining room and out the door, without even saying goodbye.
It all felt surreal, sitting here in the empty church house, talking to Reverend Jones about what time the funeral would start and whether or not they wanted organ music. As if that made a difference.
Riley stretched his legs under the pew in front of him and let Colt do most of the talking. Somehow Colt seemed the right person to take charge. He was the eldest surviving Stratton.
And after all, none of this was Colt’s fault.
“Do you have any special stories you’d like me to mention about your father and brother?” the reverend asked.
“Actually, I do.” Colt reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. “I sat up most of the night, writing a speech for you to give. This should make things easy for you.”
The minister took the paper and studied it. Frowned. Loosened his collar, like he couldn’t get enough air. “I...uh...thank you, Mr. Stratton. I’ll do my best to include as much of this as possible in my sermon on Friday.”
Colt sat up, leaned forward. “I didn’t ask you to include it. This is what I want you to say, word for word.”
Had Colt lost his mind? He couldn’t dictate what the preacher said, even at a family funeral. “May I see that?” Riley reached for the paper.
Scanning the page, he could see why it made the man uncomfortable. These were all lies. “Colt, Dad and Donnigan weren’t trying to save the building from burning. They started the fire.”
“Shut your mouth, Riley.” The fire in Colt’s eyes surpassed the hottest blaze from last night. He looked back at Reverend Jones. “Word for word.”
Riley read more. “Colt, Dad didn’t give half his money to the poor. He didn’t give any of his money to the poor, as far as I know. Any money we gave to charity stopped when Ma died.”
“I said shut your mouth.” Colt stood up, leaned over the reverend and pointed his finger right in the man’s face. “You’ll do it, or I won’t rest until you’re fired.”
Riley stood up and faced his brother. “You can’t do that.”
Colt turned, his face inches from Riley’s. “Watch me.” Then he stormed out of the building.
Riley watched him go. “I apologize, Reverend. The grief of it all...it must be too much for him. Say what you will at the funeral. I know you’ll do a fine job.”
Then Riley went after his brother, though he had no idea what he’d say once he caught him. Riding Medina full speed, chasing the cloud of dust in front of him, he caught up with Colt and cut him off in the road.
“What was all that about?” Riley asked. “You can’t force the preacher to spout a bunch of lies.”
“People will believe what we tell them to believe.” The look on Colt’s face stung. He was all the family Riley had left.
But he couldn’t stand by and let Colt lie to everyone. Not about this. “You told the sheriff Dad and Donnigan always went riding at night. That’s garbage.”
“It’s just you and me. Our reputation in this town is everything. Dad and Donnigan are dead, and we have to live with the mess they left behind.”
“Colt. I won’t lie.”
“They’ll blame us.”
“They’ll blame me.”
Colt cursed. “They should blame you! This is your fault. Now do as I say, and let me fix this.”
“I won’t lie.”
“I heard him in the study last night. I saw Donnigan leave, and I stood outside the door. He disowned you. That means I’m in charge. So shut your mouth and do what I say!”
He and Colt eyed each other in the road, just outside of town, like some legendary standoff in a gunfight. Only there were no guns. That might have been easier for Riley to handle.
When it was clear neither of them had anything else to say, Riley clicked to Medina and rode in the opposite direction. Where he was going, he didn’t know. At the moment, he didn’t feel like he had any place in the world he could call home.
Emma felt like she was living the day underwater. Everything seemed blurry as she pushed through her tasks in slow motion, and breathing didn’t feel natural.
“Do you think you should check in at the Stratton’s place?” Pa asked.
“Probably so...I just don’t know if my presence will be welcomed or not.”
Pa took a few moments to answer. “Maybe you should just go about business as usual, until you’re told diff
erently.”
“I suppose you’re right. And I really should return to the cabin and get some more of Skye’s things.” She looked out the window. Skye sat on the top porch step, holding Rilene. Lyndel sat next to her, not saying a word. The sight nearly brought tears again to Emma’s worn-out eyes. Would the sorrow never end? Could they not just have a normal, happy existence?
She thought about Job at the end of his life. He went through such terrible trials...but God blessed him in his later years. Please, God. Can you bless us too? I don’t know how much more I can take.
With weary feet and a wearier heart, Emma climbed on Sugar with a promise to Skye that she’d be back soon. No telling what kind of attitude she’d be greeted with at the Stratton home, and she didn’t want to subject Skye to any more heartache.
She arrived without fanfare and entered the kitchen to find the house dark and quiet. Everything looked the same here...yet everything had changed.
Might as well get to it. She rolled up her sleeves and began washing last night’s supper dishes...dishes that held John Stratton’s last meal.
Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Peach cobbler for dessert.
“What are you doing here?” Colt Stratton’s icy voice was edged with steel.
“I...didn’t know. I thought you might...need me to—”
“My family will never need anything from you, ever again. You’re not welcome in this home.”
“I’m sorry.” She placed the dishrag on the counter and turned toward the door. “I...have your niece. What would you like me to do with her? She’s welcome to stay with me indefinitely.”
“She’s not my niece. As far as I’m concerned, she’s an orphan.”
“Colt.” Allison’s voice called from somewhere behind him.
“Be quiet, Allison. We’re not taking that half-breed.” Colt looked at Emma, his eyes piercing her with dagger-like hatred. “Do whatever you want with her.”
“I’d like permission to retrieve a few of her things from the cabin, if that’s all right with you.”
Allison stepped beside her husband. “Yes, Emma. Get whatever she needs.”
With a nod, Emma left them, letting the screen door bang shut behind her. Sugar waited in the barn, though she’d left her tethered to a rail. Joe sat on an upturned bucket in a corner of the building.
“Leaving so soon?” There was little energy in his voice.
“Yes. I doubt I’ll be back.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“What about you, Joe? What will you do?”
“I suppose I’ll stay on. For a while, anyway. Until Colt asks me to leave, or I get word of a better position somewhere.”
How was it that less than twenty-four hours ago, Emma felt lighter than air? Now she carried a hundred boulders on her shoulders. “Joe...whatever happens...I’m glad our paths crossed. I hope God gives you everything you want in life.”
He stood, rubbed Sugar behind the ears. “You too, Miss Monroe. You too.”
He offered his hand, helped her into the saddle, and tipped his hat.
Soon she was on her way to the cabin, though everything in her wanted to go home. She could make Skye new dresses. Could provide everything the child needed.
Actually, she couldn’t. She didn’t have a job any more. How in the world would she feed Pa and Lyndel, much less Skye?
Nothing she could do about her job now. But it might be a comfort for Skye to have something of her father’s, and some of her own clothes to wear.
Too soon, she came upon the familiar clearing. Now that she was here, she wished she’d brought the wagon. As it was, she’d only be able to take what she could carry, and she didn’t know what she’d find that Skye might want. Judging from Colt’s words, after today, she or Skye might not ever be allowed to return.
She pushed open the door. Someone moved inside. Her heart jumped into her throat as she let out a raspy scream.
Gracious and mercy. It was Riley. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I suppose I should ask you the same thing.”
“I’m gathering Skye’s things. Allison told me I could.”
Riley nodded and stepped aside. “I’ve packed some of her things already. I was going to bring them by later today.”
Emma nodded. “I’ll just take some of her clothes then, and you can bring whatever else you want her to have later.”
Riley dropped onto a chair, leaned forward, and rested his head in his palms. He looked like he’d lost his whole world.
And he had.
More than anything, she wanted to go to him. To wrap her arms around him and comfort him. But after Colt’s reaction to her, she didn’t know. Did Riley feel the same way as his brother?
“I’m so very sorry, Riley. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. Is there anything I can do?”
“You’re already doing more than you should.”
She knelt in front of him, her hand hanging in the air just above his shoulder, not knowing if her touch would be appropriate…or wanted. “Riley, you know no one blames you for any of this.”
He sat up. Instead of warm honey, his eyes held bitter gall. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Could you just get what you want and leave?”
Emma drew her hand back. “Oh. Yes.”
What was happening? Where was the Riley who possessed her heart? And who was this horrid man sitting in his body? She scrambled here and there, looking in drawers and on shelves, finding the essentials, trying not to cry. There was Skye’s new dress. She could wear that to the funeral.
After one last look around, she walked to the door. Her better judgment told her to leave without saying anything. But her compassion got the better of her. She couldn’t leave Riley here without at least trying, one more time, to reach out. “Why don’t you come with me? Eat dinner with us.”
He chuckled, an eerie, harsh sound. Then he looked at her with snake eyes. “Nah.” He just sat in that chair, elbows on his knees. He dropped his head back into his hands, his tight fingers causing his normally-perfect hair to stand in every direction.
What could she say to that? Her heart pounded in her ears, breaking through the awkward, angry silence in the room. “Skye needs you. It’s two o’clock. I’ll expect you for dinner.”
She closed the door behind her. But she prayed all the way home that Riley hadn’t closed the door to the rest of his life.
Chapter 22
For the next few days, Riley kept to himself. He slept in the cabin, and other than the alcohol, he lived much like Donnigan had. Didn’t shave. Didn’t bathe.
He did stop by to check on Skye, but he didn’t stay for dinner, despite Emma’s insistence.
He refused to pray. Refused to open Donnigan’s dusty Bible that sat on the shelf above the fireplace. Why would he? He clearly was not in God’s good graces.
But that cabin was so quiet. Too quiet to drown out the voice in his mind that sounded like God. Every time he heard that voice, he’d ignore it. Push it away. Tell it to stop. Was he going a little crazy? A lot crazy?
When Riley was a little boy, he’d follow Donnigan around everywhere. He’d talk and talk and talk while Donnigan ignored him. Told him to be quiet. To leave him alone.
How annoying he must’ve been as a kid, That’s how God was, right now. No matter how much Riley tried to snub the Lord, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didn’t hear, God just kept talking and talking and talking. He wouldn’t leave Riley alone.
In the silence of the day, the Almighty whispered His love. In the still of night, He soothed Riley’s spirit, much like a mother might soothe a crying child.
Now, as Riley turned his pillow to the dry side, he heard a voice, clear as any audible voice he’d ever heard. I love you. I have good plans for your life. Trust me.
At that, Riley sat up in bed and spoke out loud. “How am I supposed to trust you, God? How? I thought I was doing what You wanted me to,
and You killed Dad. You killed Donnigan. You took Skye’s only living parent. You burned down the hotel! How am I supposed to trust You?” He spat the words, half expecting, half hoping to be struck by lightning. Or worse.
Then there was that voice again, silent yet clear. “I didn’t kill them. I didn’t burn anything down. Trust me.”
Riley knew the voice spoke truth. God didn’t do this.
His father had a mind of his own. This entire tragedy was the result of John Stratton’s stubborn will. Dad caused his own death, and Donnigan’s too.
That realization both relieved Riley’s broken heart, and broke it even more.
Today was the funeral. Today, Riley needed to clean up, if for no other reason than to honor Dad’s and Donnigan’s memories. He needed to go up to the house and get some fresh clothes. Bathe. Shave.
Colt was in the study when he entered the house. The door was open. He looked up when Riley passed by, but didn’t say anything. Riley would have kept walking, even if he had.
The bath felt better than Riley wanted to admit. He laid his head back against the porcelain and let the water soak into his sweat-and-smoke-stained skin, washing away the last tangible remnants of Dad and Donnigan.
Riley would get dressed. Go to the funeral. Do what he had to do.
Tomorrow, he’d talk to Charlie Monroe. If that man was willing to give Riley another chance, they’d begin again. And he’d see about starting the paperwork to adopt Skye.
After that...well, he didn’t really know what would happen after that. Had he truly been disinherited? Surely Dad hadn’t had time to draw up any official paperwork. If so, maybe he’d have some money to begin again. If not, well...he supposed he’d let God lead him, one day at a time.
But he couldn’t help but hope that Emma might have a place, somewhere in his future.
Skye clung to Emma’s arm as she looked at her father’s remains in the casket. Emma had questioned the wisdom of letting the child see her father this way. But Emma’s own father had felt it was important for Skye to say goodbye.
Legacy of Honor Page 21