Should she take their markers? No. Years of wind and rain would obliterate the slight mounds, and she’d never find them again—if she’d ever be allowed upon the property in the future.
Scooting to the most recent little grave, she put her hand upon the sun-warmed earth. Born dead a little over a year and a half ago. She hadn’t even gotten to see his eyes. Leaning over, she rested her head on the hardened pillow of earth covering him. She hadn’t had much time to mourn his death before her husband had made his bed beside their tiny son.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, wetting the earth. Could anything make leaving behind this small tract of land bearable?
Perhaps naming her two stillborn sons.
Gregory and Catherine’s names were etched into their wooden crosses, but she hadn’t named the boys.
She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, envisioning her relations back home, recalling Gregory’s stories of family members, searching for names.
She crawled over and touched each cross, whispering their newly chosen names: Jack and Augustus. That’s who she had to leave behind. Forever.
“Annie!”
Jacob’s holler broke through the sound of the ragged gulps filling her ears.
Life went on.
It had gone on four times before. It would go on when she left those same four behind.
Knowing Jacob couldn’t see where she was, she wiped at her eyes and stood to flag him.
He caught her signal and started her way.
Scanning the cemetery one last time, she said goodbye to the family that had gone on before her as she finished drying her face. She couldn’t still be standing here when Jacob arrived. He was her life now; her old family had to be left behind.
She threw an apologetic glance to the loved ones who’d gone before her. They weren’t old, not at all. And they’d be missed. She tried to walk away, but Catherine’s grave pulled her forward. She could still remember the feel of her daughter’s damp curly hair plastered against her fevered brow that long, heartbreaking last day. Annie sank to the ground, but kept her lips pressed together to keep the streams of sadness from flowing again. She’d never been so far away she couldn’t come and kneel beside these children when she thought of them. Leaning heavily upon Catherine’s worn cross, she put her forehead against her engraved name. “Mama loves you,” she whispered. “You have to believe me. I’d not leave unless I had to.”
The sound of Jacob’s strides through the new grass grew louder.
She pushed herself up, wiped her face with her sleeve as she crossed over to the fence, then fumbled with the gate’s latch, desperate to get out before Jacob came in.
He stood but a few feet away and she stopped right outside the gate, her hand clenched tightly to its top. She couldn’t take another step, couldn’t move, couldn’t answer the question in his eyes. Her throat was too clogged to say anything anyway, not that she had something to say.
“You don’t have to leave now.” He crossed the remaining distance between them and wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb. “We have until evening for you to ... do whatever you feel needs doing.”
“I’d never be done.” She fixed her gaze on the distant ridge behind him, not wanting to see the compassion in his eyes. She couldn’t renew the flow of mourning she’d just stanched. Taking deep breaths, she started for the wagon. “We should go.”
He walked beside her, his hand at the small of her back, saying nothing.
But the more steps she took, the more difficult it was to keep moving. Jacob’s arm slid farther around her waist as she nearly slowed to a stop, inviting her into a hug without saying a word.
Unable to move forward another inch, she turned into his arms and let her tears drench his shirt. His unfamiliar, yet soothing masculine scent permeated the starched fabric.
The rumble of his voice in his hard chest and his hand rubbing circles on her back couldn’t fix the hurt, but they tempered her weeping after a time.
Was it wrong to find comfort in one man’s embrace, aware of his every muscle wrapped around her, when she wept for another lover and the children she’d borne him?
Chapter Fourteen
Jacob opened his desk drawer and took out his badge. Morning sunlight glinted off its five points as he ran a finger around the star’s inner circle and then swiped his thumb across his last name. Just days ago, he’d been practically giddy about handing this star over to McGill and never looking back.
But now, he needed this job more than ever, especially if he wanted a chance at unearthing what had happened with Gregory.
Jacob pinned the badge onto his left lapel, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the cell bars that lined the wall across from him. Unfortunately, today his most dreaded task demanded attention—mucking streets and filling holes while keeping a lookout for busted street lamps.
Some prankster had been targeting the new lights. Probably the same kid who’d stolen undergarments off clotheslines last week.
Maybe he should ask the council to offer a reward for information leading to the perpetrator.
Jacob let the front legs of his chair hit the floor and jotted himself a reminder to ask at the next meeting. Surely for a few dollars, someone would snitch on the troublemaker.
A soft rat-a-tat-tat sounded at his door. The morning sun glowed bright and furious behind the figure on the other side of the window. Who expected him to still be here? He rarely lingered this long before starting work. He took a sip of coffee and rubbed his eyes before hollering, “Come in.”
Bryant’s blond head poked in through the doorway. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
Jacob frowned at his friend. Leah had helped Annie unpack yesterday, but Bryant had come up with one excuse after another for not helping carry the larger items upstairs.
He rubbed at the back of his neck. Why did this uneasy hitch lodge in his chest any time Bryant showed up?
“I have papers to give you.” Bryant slipped farther into the room, then placed some documents on the desk’s edge. “Uh—” He cleared his throat and shoved them forward. “Another eviction notice and a few fines to deliver.” The man’s eyes didn’t quite rise high enough to meet Jacob’s. “McGill wants you to give them out today.”
Jacob itched to flick the papers onto the floor and grind them into the rough planks with the heel of his muddy boot. No wonder Bryant had hoped to drop these off while he was out. “What? You’re not up to handing out the eviction yourself this time?”
Bryant took a small step back toward the door.
Jacob brought his right ankle up to rest on his left knee. He wasn’t going to evict anyone today.
A cold shiver ran up his neck, and he rubbed the sensation away. He’d never before been intentionally insubordinate, but then, that was before the mayor had stolen his dream out from under his nose.
Though an anonymous buyer was supposed to be purchasing Annie’s land for the required eight thousand dollars, he was certain anonymous was synonymous with McGill. Pressing Bryant for the name of the interested party had gotten him nowhere.
Somehow, he got the feeling that pestering those two much more would get him into hot water, and he needed to keep this job, for the time being anyway.
Jacob dropped his foot back onto the floor. If only he knew more of the law. Was there a way widows could hold off eviction?
McGill had hired him despite his inexperience, and he’d thought himself fortunate, but perhaps McGill had been the lucky one since Jacob had never questioned the legality of McGill’s actions.
He’d always figured his boss hadn’t cared about his lack of qualifications because he was more custodian than marshal, but what if there was more to it?
“I understand if you don’t want to hand them out today.” Bryant’s voice squeaked but smoothed out. “I tried to talk McGill out of it, but…” He shrugged. “You know him.”
Jacob rubbed his temples, tired of trying to understand his best friend’s be
havior. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” Bryant’s cheeks reddened. “What do you mean?”
“Something awry at home?” Jacob tried to read his friend’s face. “Why are you so evasive lately? You worried McGill’s going to fire you for something?”
Bryant took another step back toward the door, his gaze actually meeting Jacob’s for once this week. “McGill isn’t the easiest to work for.” He put a hand on the doorknob and shrugged. “And that’s probably all I should say.”
Jacob pushed himself out of his chair and grabbed his hat. Bryant’s answer cleared up nothing. “Right, thanks for the insight.” He snatched the rake from the corner and twirled it in his hand, letting the handle’s end pivot in the knot on the plank floor. “When you decide to talk to me about why you’re acting as if I’ve lifted up a rock and exposed you to sunlight, you can find me filling in potholes.”
Bryant didn’t so much as utter a grunt of protest.
Jacob shook his head. “Don’t expect the eviction or the fines to go out today. I’ll be too busy catching up.”
“I’m sorry, Jake.” Bryant looked like he was biting his cheek. Or had the man taken up chewing?
“I know. You’re just doing your job.” Jacob strangled the rake handle in his hands. If only he’d mentioned Annie’s name to Bryant earlier, perhaps they could’ve stopped the repossession process and he’d not be twirling a rake right now. Or at least not this rake. With a squeeze, he stopped the spinning handle and a splinter broke off in his flesh. Just what he needed, a splinter.
“Perhaps I could make it up to you.” Bryant jiggled the knob behind him. “I can keep my eye out for cheap land. Maybe suggest to someone behind on their taxes that you could make them an offer? Something’s bound to turn up.” His jaw clenched so tight, every muscle surrounding his mouth stood out.
“But you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong with you?”
“No.” Bryant’s mouth flattened into a thinner line. Then he turned the knob and spun to step out the door only to stumble forward.
“Ow!”
Spencer had evidently been about to knock, but had become a stumbling block instead.
Bryant quickly righted them both before stalking off down the porch steps.
“What’d he do that for?” Spencer rubbed his head, eyes wide and dewy.
“He didn’t trip over you on purpose.” Jacob pulled him inside and took a quick look at the boy’s head. No hint of a bump. “But something’s eating at him, and he wasn’t paying attention.”
Was Bryant beating himself up over not being able to warn them about Annie’s eviction? Or was there more to it?
Likely more. But how was he supposed to figure that out when Bryant refused to talk?
He roughed up Spencer’s hair, and the boy winced, though he still sported a slight grin.
His chest puffed up at the eight-year-old’s cheery pluck. At least someone wasn’t hard to read. “Why aren’t you in school? Thought your ma said you’d be going again.”
Spencer thrust a paper sack into Jacob’s hands. “She told me to give you this first and let you know to come home for lunch.” The boy stared at Jacob’s middle for a second before launching his arms around Jacob’s hips. “Thanks for helping us. You’re the greatest.”
For the first time today, his heart didn’t feel constricted. “No problem, kid.”
Spencer ran off, leaving the scent of cinnamon buns wafting up from the bag. Annie hadn’t left her room early enough this morning to make him breakfast. When she’d finally come downstairs, right before he’d had to leave, her red-rimmed eyes had indicated she’d once again cried more than slept.
But at least today she’d bucked up enough to make him something other than toast.
What would his wife make him for lunch?
His wife. He liked the sound of that.
The squeak of the marshal’s front door opening made Celia slump down in her kitchen chair. She popped the last piece of her cinnamon bun into her mouth, readying herself to remain seated no matter what. There was no reason to go to school. As soon as the marshal got their land back, she’d be needed to help with the cattle.
Ma walked in carrying a crate of groceries and dropped it onto the sideboard with a sigh.
Celia didn’t look at her, just scraped up the last of the icing from her plate.
“If you feel well enough to come down for breakfast…” Ma picked up the empty baking pan from the table and transferred it into the sink. “You’re well enough to clean up after yourself.”
Ma was trying to make her expression steely, but she was twisting her new wedding band something fierce.
She never enforced anything when she was regretting her decisions.
“I don’t see why.” Celia relaxed in her chair. “We aren’t going to be here very long.”
“We can’t eat off dirty dishes.”
Celia shrugged. “I’ll wash them after lunch.”
“If you can do chores, you can go to school.”
“Don’t want to.”
The kitchen’s back door swung open, and the marshal’s tall frame blocked the sun for a second.
Celia scowled. He was supposed to be working. He’d likely not give in to her as easily as Ma did.
He frowned at her then hung up his hat. “Why aren’t you in school?”
“I don’t feel up to it.” She slumped some more and tried to look pitiful.
He took a long look at her face. “Unless you have a fever, get yourself ready.”
Ma cleared her throat. “It’s about lunch time. Perhaps she can eat before going? Then I wouldn’t have to fix her something to take.”
“That’d be fine.” The marshal nodded, but he didn’t look pleased.
He might respect Ma, might like Spencer, but nothing about her would ever make such a tight-laced man happy.
Well, she hadn’t been born to make him happy. And he was already too comfortable with being in charge. Ma should be the only one making decisions about her and Spencer.
She folded her arms atop the table. “What are we having?” If lunch wasn’t anything good, she’d just go without.
“Scrambled eggs, ham, and biscuits with this apricot jam I found at the mercantile. Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks.”
Apricot jam would be worth sticking around for, even if the marshal was staying.
Ma winced as she turned toward him. “I hope you don’t mind I bought things to refill your pantry.”
“No, buy whatever you need.” The marshal busied himself with taking off his gun belt.
Why did he even wear it? Her friend, Daniel, said the marshal was too busy cleaning up after horses to deal with real criminals.
“Why don’t you help your mother?” The marshal’s glare pinned her as if he was trying to get some sort of message across. But she’d only help if she wanted to.
Of course, there was the apricot jam to consider.
She shoved away from the table and got down a bowl to scramble eggs in.
After a quarter hour of doing just enough to keep from getting sent straight to school, Celia sat at the table, and the marshal bowed his head to give the blessing.
She tapped her foot as his prayer went on and on thanking God for his new family.
The man was daft. There was nothing to be thankful for in this situation. The only thing that would make this new arrangement tolerable was for him to get to work figuring out how to take back their ranch so she could disappear for hours on end on a horse, riding along the ridge.
Now that they were in town, Ma seemed to think she needed an account of every second of her daughter’s day.
“Pass the jam to Jacob, darling.” Ma’s voice cooed out of nowhere.
Celia pulled the jar closer, slapped more jam onto the last of her biscuit, then slid it across the table to her stepfather. She cringed. No, she wouldn’t call him a father of any kind. She was too old to need a father anyway. “So, Marshal. How’s the plan
for getting us back home going?”
His eyebrow raised, but he simply continued spooning out jam.
Ma cleared her throat. “Celia, I already told you an investigation will take time. This is our home for now.” She took a side glance at the marshal. “We’ll trust Jacob to do what he can, but we can’t expect miracles.”
Celia frowned at the marshal. “You’re the law. You should see something ain’t right.”
He coughed, but not because he was choking on his biscuit. No, it was one of those adult coughs meant as a warning. She scowled right back into his intense glare.
“I agree something doesn’t feel right. And as your mother said, I’ll do what I can. But things may not end up as you’d like, and you’ll have to deal with it.”
Celia shoveled in the last of her eggs. She never got what she wanted. If she did, she’d be on Daddy’s ranch right now, talking to him about his day, getting a hug from him every chance she got.
But even when he was alive, she’d only gotten a hug every once in a while. The closest she’d ever felt to him was when he’d let her ride with him on rounds. Which is what she should be doing now, not hanging around in town.
“So, Jacob.” Ma wrung a napkin in her hands. “What have you been doing this morning?”
“Raking alleys and filling potholes.” With a sigh, the marshal sopped up a stray glop of jam. “That’ll probably keep me busy for the rest of the day and maybe even tomorrow.”
Celia pushed her plate away. That was all she needed to hear. “I best be going.” She leaned over to kiss Ma’s cheek and then gave a nod in the marshal’s direction.
There was no reason to sit in a stuffy school room, especially on a sunny day like today. Daniel definitely wouldn’t be. No, he’d be down by the river. She’d look for him there.
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