Endless Mercy

by Tracie Peterson

  When she walked in the door to the cheese kitchen, she wasn’t exactly sure what she needed, but Daniel stood there smiling.

  She broke into tears.

  He walked over to her and stood there looking oh-so-understanding. “What is it? Can I help?”

  She shook her head, then wrapped her arms around his waist and sobbed into his shoulder.

  He cocooned her in his arms. “Shhh. It’s all right. Want to talk about it?”

  She couldn’t answer. Tears flowed from the fount of ache within.

  So he stood there and held her.

  After several minutes, she pulled back and wiped at her face with her sleeve. “I’m so sorry. That was inappropriate and presumptuous of me. It’s just . . .”

  The compassion and concern on his face undid her. She let it all spill out. “Whitney’s hurt, and I’m not sure what to do with my father’s other kids. I want to hug them and love on them, but I keep remembering how we got to this place, and I get angry all over again. Eli and Bethany don’t deserve my anger. They’re just kids. Innocent kids. And I want to be their big sister. I’ve never had any younger siblings. But I had to give them and Ruth Mama’s room, and it just hurts to remember my last moments with her. And Dad already left to find his brother-in-law, and I don’t know when he will be back, and it’s all just a big mess.” She’d said everything so fast that she gasped for air and started crying all over again.

  He gripped her elbows. “It’s okay. Messes are a part of life. Especially family messes.”

  She put her head on Daniel’s shoulder. She felt safe. Comfortable. Warm.

  “I’m here, Maddy. Whatever you need.” He rubbed her back lightly.

  She smiled against his shoulder. “I think that’s the first time you’ve used my nickname.”

  He paused for several seconds. “Is it all right if I call you that?”

  “Yes. I like it.” And then her heart did that thing where it felt like butterflies were inside her.

  The longer Daniel held her, the more she realized she wanted to stay right here.

  With him.

  They stood in the middle of the kitchen for several minutes while he just rubbed her back. Gentle. Caring. Loving.

  She pulled away. What was she thinking? “I’m sorry.” She wiped at her face again. “I shouldn’t have cried all over you.”

  “That’s okay, Maddy. I want to be here if you need me. I’m your friend, remember?”

  She nodded. But at that moment, there were a lot of feelings that made her think of Daniel as more than a friend. No wait. Those feelings were reserved for Buddy. Weren’t they?

  She heard footsteps outside and took another step away from Daniel. What was going on with her? Why had she fallen apart on him like that?

  “Hey, Daniel.” John walked into the cheese kitchen. “Oh, Madysen, you’re here. You must have already told him.”

  Her brother-in-law looked back and forth between them. “Everything all right?”

  Madysen wiped the last traces of wet from her cheeks. “Yes, I just needed a bit of a cry and didn’t want to have it in front of the kids.”

  “Understandable. Well, I’ve got to go check the cows before dinner. Are you going to be all right?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  “Just let me know if you need me, okay?”

  Another nod.

  John turned to Daniel. “Havyn told me to invite you to stay for supper.”

  “Thank you, I’d like that very much.”

  “Great. We’ll see you then.”

  After John left, Daniel picked up a bucket of sheep’s milk. “Why don’t you let me finish up here, and you go splash some cool water on your face. I bet that will make you feel better.”

  “I’m sure it will.” She forced a small smile. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Maybe we can all gather around the piano tonight––” She gasped. “Oh no!”

  “What?”

  “We’re supposed to play at the Roadhouse!”

  Madysen hadn’t wanted to add to anyone’s burdens, but she had to remind her sisters of their commitment.

  “I can’t play at the Roadhouse. Not now.” Whitney shook her head and paced in front of the fireplace in her room. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Well, maybe it could just be the two of us, Havyn?” Madysen looked to her sister.

  “I think someone should be here for Whitney, as well as the children and Ruth. We can hardly drag them along. They just got here.” Havyn tucked her hands into the pockets of her apron.

  “You’ve always wanted to perform on your own.” Whitney sounded almost flippant. “Why don’t you go do that?”

  Madysen looked back and forth between her sisters. Should she? “I guess if you think I should. . . . I don’t mind at all. If John will come with me, then I’ll do it. I can explain to the audience that we’ve had some unexpected problems, and I’ll give an abbreviated show.”

  “I don’t know. . . .” Havyn’s words faded as she looked to her husband. “What do you think?”

  He shrugged. “At least this way we won’t completely disappoint the folks by not showing up at all. Maddy can get a taste of what it’s like to perform alone, and no one should be any worse for the wear. Besides, I need to talk to the sheriff about what happened to Whitney.”

  “No!” Whitney shook her head. “No one must know.”

  “You can’t be serious, Whit!” Madysen stared at her sister. What had gotten into her?

  “Whit, he attacked you.” John’s face looked like a storm.

  Whit held out both of her hands. “Yes, but I’ve thought on this a great deal. People will say it was my fault. They think women are nothing more than objects to be admired or scorned. Our reputation is the only thing we have, and if this gets out, mine will be ruined.”

  John stepped closer and fisted his hands. “I understand, but we can’t allow Sinclair to get away with this.”

  “No sheriff. Not a word to anyone—not even Dad. I don’t want anyone else knowing what happened.” Whitney put her hand to the back of her head.

  “Are you all right, Whit?” Havyn moved in faster than a mother hen.

  “It’s my head—my neck. I hit hard when I pushed away from that man.” Her older sister looked so weak and discouraged.

  Havyn wrapped an arm around her. “You should see a doctor.”

  “No. I don’t need anyone.” Whit’s tone was resolute as she curled up on her side. “Please just leave.”

  Madysen shared a glance with John. Fury filled his eyes. As the man of the house, what must he be feeling? And here she would be taking him away from the farm tonight. Would he be able to resist hunting down Garrett Sinclair?

  She put a hand to her throat. What if one of the men tried the same thing with her? Performing alone lost its appeal. Sure, John would be there to protect her. And the old guard. But was that enough?

  She fled to put her music together for the evening. She could do this. Wasn’t it what she wanted to experience?

  She’d better get used to it. Because if she left with Buddy, she’d be performing all alone.

  All the time.

  Madysen took the stage and offered up her explanation, then broke into a lively tune on the piano. Good thing Mama made sure all of them could accompany themselves on the piano. But she wasn’t near as good as Whit.

  The men began to clap. They didn’t seem to mind at all that Madysen was alone.

  But it wasn’t the same. At all. Together, she and her sisters created a beautiful painting of music. Alone, Madysen was like haphazard brushstrokes and skeletal shapes. Was that how it would be if she went off with Buddy Merrick?

  She played through several songs, her discontentment growing. The men seemed rowdier than usual. Did they sense something was wrong? Or was she imagining things because today had been so horrid?

  Each song became more like a chore than a joy. Her head began to pound. What were H
avyn and Whit doing right now? Had they gone to bed early? Was Whit all right?

  For the first time in her life, Madysen wanted to cut a performance short. She breathed her relief when she finished the tenth song.

  “I’m going to take a little break, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.” The applause was lackluster. Whatever their earlier enthusiasm, it had waned, and she couldn’t blame them. Her heart wasn’t in it.

  John and Daniel met her at the foot of the stage steps.

  Daniel took her elbow. “Are you doing all right? You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

  She wanted to fall into his arms again. Tears stung her eyes. “I—”

  Crash!

  She turned to investigate the cause of the noise, but Daniel and John closed in behind her, practically pushing her into a small storage closet.

  “Stay here.” John’s voice brooked no argument.

  Madysen nodded, too tired and disappointed with herself to put up a fight.

  Daniel gave her a rueful smile from the doorway. “What were you about to say?”

  She shook her head, the moment gone. “Nothing. I’ll be fine.”

  He gave her a searching look, opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I’ll leave you in peace.” He closed the door a few inches. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  “Thank you.” What a good friend. So reliable and caring. The remembrance of his embrace earlier brought warmth to her cheeks.

  She waited until the door was closed to lean her head back and let out a long sigh. Her fingers ached. She rubbed her right hand and then her left as she took deep breaths.

  “She needs a few minutes alone, Mr. Merrick.” John’s voice was a bit muffled through the door.

  “I understand that completely.” Buddy swung open the door. “I simply wanted to bring her a present or two.” He held out his offerings. More candy and hothouse flowers.

  “How kind of you.” Madysen held up a hand to refuse. “But I must decline. We make it a point to never accept gifts from the audience on performance nights. If we start it with one, we have to keep it up with all the others.”

  “How very noble of you.” He handed the candy to John and the flowers to Daniel. With their hands occupied, they were unable to stop him when he stepped inside the small closet. “I understand.” Buddy picked up her hand and patted it. It didn’t soothe her the way it usually did.

  It wasn’t even close to how much better she’d felt inside the comfort of Daniel’s arms.

  Heat crept up her cheeks again. What a terrible, disloyal thought. Buddy was her future. She had no business thinking of Daniel.

  “You’re quite amazing you know.” Buddy picked up her other hand, trapping both of hers between his. “Your performance has been splendid. Why, you must see that you don’t need your sisters. You are a star all on your own.”

  She gave a sidelong glance at John and Daniel, who couldn’t help but hear the man. She tugged her hands free. “It’s not the same without them.”

  “No indeed. It’s infinitely better.”

  “She needs to get back on stage.” John moved his bulk into the closet between them.

  “Of course, of course. We can’t keep her audience waiting.” Buddy reached for her shoulder and patted it, but John guided her out of the closet, away from Buddy’s touch. “It’s not your fault that you bear the weight of talent. Your sisters have had a good turn with you to anchor them, but now is the time for you to grab hold of your destiny. Our destiny.”

  Somehow the words weren’t as appealing as they had been yesterday. And what was with all the patting? It was annoying.

  Tapping his fingers on his desk, Judas thought through the next part of his plan. It shouldn’t be that difficult to convince Madysen that she should take off with Buddy. He’d seen the way she looked at the man—as if he could fulfill all her dreams. And apparently Buddy had done a fine job wooing her with gifts and praise.

  “Mr. Reynolds.” Garrett Sinclair stood at the door.

  Judas frowned. It was nearly eleven in the morning. “Come in.” He waved him in. “Close the door.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “It’s a little late in the morning to be showing up for work, isn’t it? You’ve been mighty scarce. I expected a report before now.”

  “There was some trouble.” He offered nothing more.

  “There’s always trouble of some sort. Do you have anything to report?”

  Sinclair made himself comfortable in one of the chairs. He crossed his right leg over his left and then picked at his teeth with his finger. “There isn’t any gold on that property. At least, not that I could see. There’s no cave or mine, no panning or sluicing going on. Nothing.”

  “Then how do you explain where all that gold came from?” Reynolds narrowed his eyes and leaned over his desk.

  “Probably from the fact that their farm is thriving. They’re smart. And they’ve got enough dogs, cows, chickens, sheep, and whatever else to produce a lot more gold than that little bag.”

  Judas nodded. “All right, you need to get back out there and get hired. Find out how they operate—”

  “Nope.” Sinclair stood. “I’m done. Keep your gold. I’m not going back out there. Just wanted to let you know.” The man left, slamming the door behind him.

  What had gotten into him?

  It didn’t matter. Judas would deal with him later. Besides, he could find out what he needed another way.

  The clock chimed.

  Mr. Beaufort was late. That was odd, the man was usually quite punctual.

  His secretary came to the door. “Mr. Beaufort is on his way, sir.”

  He gave a slight nod. “Show him in.”

  Several moments later, Martin appeared at the door quite breathless. “Judas, I’m sorry to be late.”

  He put on his most welcoming smile. “Not a problem, my friend. Not a problem.” He waved the man into his office and pointed to a chair. “Is everything all right? You seem quite flustered.”

  The merc owner sat down and took a few deep breaths while he fidgeted with his tie. “I’m sorry. I hate to be late, but I was going over everything in the books to see if there was any way I could have made a mistake.”

  “Oh? Is there a problem?” Judas used a compassionate tone. One he’d mastered over the years.

  Martin sighed. Long and heavy. “I don’t know what happened, but I won’t be able to make my arranged payment. And I find that I’m not even adequately prepared for the winter.”

  Judas stood and walked around the desk and then sat casually on the edge, folding his hands on his lap. “Don’t worry about it, Martin. I’m your friend. We’ll get through this together. Times have been tough for many. How can I help? Do you need more money?”

  The man was good enough to look embarrassed, but he held his gaze. “I’m afraid I do. Can we amend our agreement to increase the loan? I don’t want to burden my son or my mother with such financial woes.”

  “Of course, we can. How much do you need? I can give you as long as you need to pay it back.”

  The man leaned back, relief clear on his face as he relaxed. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Judas.”

  “What are friends for, Martin? The Good Lord above didn’t bless me with all this not to share it with those in need. Let me help.” He leaned forward and gave Martin’s shoulder a friendly squeeze, then walked back to his chair, opened a drawer, and pulled out the agreement.

  It only took a few minutes to amend the contract and for them to sign it.

  Mr. Beaufort walked out the door with full pockets and a spring in his hobbled step.

  Judas got up and closed his door with a chuckle. The fool. He probably didn’t even read what Judas amended to their agreement. And the man would probably be back for more money. Again.

  That was fine with him.

  It wouldn’t be too long before Judas owned the mercantile too.

  Not too shabby for only eleven o’clock
in the morning. The day was looking up.

  TWENTY

  Whitney gritted her teeth. Garrett Sinclair had fooled her. Her! She was famous—at least within her family—for being cautious, particularly where strange men were concerned. And the one time she let her guard down? She’d been attacked.

  Lesson learned. No more trusting men. Ever!

  She went to check on the dogs. They carried on as usual, ready to run, but today she didn’t have the stomach for it. What if Sinclair was waiting for her? John suggested she take someone with her and exercise the teams two at a time, which was a great idea except for two things. First, it wasn’t fair to take John or the others away from their own work. Second, and more important, she shouldn’t have to do it.

  Whitney leaned down and stroked Pepper’s thick coat, taking comfort in the feel of his fur against her fingers. “I admit it,” she whispered in the dog’s pointed ear, “I’m afraid of Garrett Sinclair. And that gives him power over me.”

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  Whitney jerked upright.

  Ruth Robertson stood a few feet away. She wore a scarf around her head and a long coat, but both were too thin for the Alaska cold. Under normal circumstances, Whitney would offer to loan the newcomer one of her thick coats and fur hats. Under normal circumstances, she’d make small talk to befriend a woman new to Nome.

  But these were far from normal circumstances.

  The only way she could survive however long it took to heal from her attack was to put up walls. With everyone.

  Ruth stepped forward. Tentative. “I don’t mean to intrude, and I don’t mean to pry, but I overheard a few things . . . and I pieced together what happened. It’s a horrible thing to go through.”

  “What?” Whitney swallowed and coughed to clear her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You were assaulted by a man, weren’t you?”

  Whitney shook her head. A little too fast. This woman had been welcomed into Whitney’s home, and she had the nerve to eavesdrop? “I’m not sure what you heard, but I’d rather you say nothing about it.”

  Ruth nodded. “I understand but, if I may, I’d like to offer you a small bit of advice. Don’t shut friends or family out of your life.”