He looked up at her and mouthed an apology. To Emma, this man, so large and seemingly in command, suddenly seemed ... tired. Lines of fatigue played on his face. Fatigue and something else. Pain. Yes, she realized, pain. She knew what it was like to feel that deeply, that no matter what you did, you couldn't make it better. Pain seemed to be etched into his face, and she noticed that her anger had somehow turned to sympathy.
Emma's eyes filled with tears. Heavens, she shouldn't feel pity for this man. He hadn't denied sending the children away, yet it certainly didn't seem to be his choice, as Nathan had suggested.
"Children, would you do something for me?" Emma asked a few moments later. At their questioning glances, she continued. "There is a strawberry patch beside the shed. Would you like to pick some and bring them inside for me?"
The children nodded in unison.
Emma smiled, fighting back the tears. "I thought so. There are buckets in the shed."
A few seconds later, the children had disappeared, leaving the door wide open. Emma got up and closed it.
"May I get you a cup of coffee and some breakfast?" she asked.
"A cup of coffee would be real nice, ma'am. Thanks."
"I have flapjacks, bacon and biscuits--"
"Thanks, but I don't really have time. I have chores--"
"It's already made," she insisted, indicating the plate of flapjacks and basket of biscuits on the table. "And it'll only take a minute to whip up some eggs."
"Well, since you put it that way ... I appreciate it. I spent all night out looking for them."
Emma sighed in relief. At least she could keep him here until she found out the truth. For the next few minutes she bustled about, aware that he was scrutinizing her every move. A fluttery sensation filled her insides when she caught him looking at her, and she felt herself grow warm. Heavens, what was wrong with her?
Dismissing her disconcerting emotions, she forced her mind back on the problem at hand. How could she broach the subject? This was none of her concern, but she couldn't allow him to take the children without knowing what he planned to do with them. He had every right to tell her to mind her own business, but she'd only worry if she didn't ask.
"Mr. Jenkins--"
"Call me Sam.”
She smiled softly, then turned to take a plate from the shelf above the stove. Filling it with food, she set it in front of him. "Sam," she said, perching on the chair facing him. "I realize I have no right to interfere, but I must tell you how concerned I am about the children."
His dark brows lifted. "Concerned?"
"The children told me you're sending them away."
"That's right," he said, lifting the mug of coffee and taking a long drink.
Emma was speechless for a moment. She'd expected him to deny it.
"They think you don't want them," she went on.
"That's not the case. But I am sending them back east to live with their grandparents for a while."
"I see."
Sam slathered butter on a biscuit and popped it into his mouth. "Mighty fine meal, ma'am," he said when he'd finished. "You're a mighty fine cook."
Emma flushed. She'd never been able to accept compliments graciously, and didn't quite know how to respond. Turning, she busied herself filling up his coffee.
"Mr. Jenkins ... Sam ... The children ran away because they don't want to go."
"You think I don't know that? And believe me, I don't want them to go."
"Then why, if I may ask, are you doing it? Surely you can see how upset they are if they're willing to run away rather than go."
"It isn't that simple."
"Of course it is."
"You don't understand--"
"I understand perfectly. They don't want to go. You don't want them to go. What else is there to understand?"
"I can't look after them."
"The children tell me their mother passed on--"
"That's right."
Emma heard his voice catch. He'd obviously loved her very much, and still hadn't recovered from her death.
"She got the fever just before Thanksgiving. She died a week later. At the time, I wanted to die, too, but I knew I had to look after the children. I've found out I can't even do that right."
"I'm sure you tried--"
"Yeah, I tried. And it didn't work. And now, I don't have a choice."
That Emma didn't believe. "Mr. Jenkins, there are always choices.--"
"You don't know how many nights I've sat up trying to figure out how to keep them. This is the only way."
"How can you send them away?" Emma recognized the anxiety in her voice, yet she couldn't help it. She had to stop him. "They're your flesh and blood."
"They're better off with their grandparents."
"You're wrong."
He gazed at her, as if he didn't quite believe she'd had the nerve to contradict him. "Mrs. Witherspoon--"
"Miss. It's Miss Witherspoon. I'm not married."
"Sorry. I just assumed ..." His voice trailed off.
Yes, he'd assumed that a woman of twenty-three would be married and have a houseful of children by now. Unfortunately, there was no husband or children in Emma's life. And never would be.
"It's a natural mistake," she said softly. He seemed suddenly uncomfortable in her small kitchen. "You were saying?" she asked.
"Oh ... yeah ... well, I was saying I can't work a ranch and look after them, too. At least with their grandparents, they'll have somebody to keep an eye on them, make sure they eat right--"
"A housekeeper can do the same thing," Emma pointed out.
Sam leaned closer to her. "And what do I pay a housekeeper with? I've barely got enough money to survive the next few months, and if I can't spend every waking minute working my land and taking care of the stock between now and fall, I'll lose the ranch, too. And then, where will the money come from to feed them over the winter--"
"Mr. Jenkins--"
"Look, ma'am. I appreciate your concern. I shouldn't be telling you all my troubles, but you were kind enough to look after the children, and for that I'm truly grateful. But what I do with them is my business."
"But--"
"They'll be on the train to Boston on Monday, so you don't have to worry about them."
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Would you consider allowing the children to live with me?"
"What?"
Emma bounded up and moved to stand beside him. "I'd love to have them. Truly."
He seemed to consider her offer, but only for a few moments. "No."
"Why not? They'd still be well taken care of, I assure you."
"I'm sure you'd take real good care of them. But the answer's still no. They need a real family. They'll have that with their grandparents."
"But--"
"I appreciate your help with them last night, but this is my business."
"That's the most ridiculous reasoning I've ever heard. It doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to. They're my children, and I'll do what I think is best for them."
"Even if it destroys them."
"You got children, ma'am?"
"No," Emma replied. What did that have to do with anything?
"Then I don't think you've got any business telling me how to raise mine." The rebuke stung as much as if he'd physically slapped her. At the same time, her anger doubled. Just because she wasn't a mother herself didn't mean she had no idea how much children could be hurt. In her pain, she couldn't help lashing out.
"You aren't going to raise your children. You're getting rid of them. It's difficult to keep them, so you're just disposing of them the same way you'd get rid of a horse or a dog that gave you trouble--"
For a moment, Emma thought she'd gone too far. Sam's face darkened, and a cord bulged in his neck. But she couldn't stop now, no matter what.
"I've given you an option, and you're too pigheaded to even consider it. I don't have children of my own, but if I did, I can guarantee you I'd mo
ve heaven and hell to keep them. Nothing would make me give them up. Nothing."
"You don't know--"
"You're right. I don't know what it's like to have someone depending on me, loving me without reservation. I do know those children need you, not strangers."
"I'm giving them a family."
"No, Mr. Jenkins," Emma said softly. "You're destroying the only family these children have."
Sam opened his mouth to speak, then apparently changed his mind. He moved to the door, flung it open and stormed outside. "Joseph!"
Joseph looked up, his mouth ringed with strawberry juice.
"Get Nathan and Becky and get in the wagon."
Joseph's gaze shifted to Emma. Nathan picked up the bucket of strawberries and picked his way through the patch to stand beside his brother. The question shone in their eyes.
Within a few moments, they'd realize Emma had lied to them. Why, oh why, had she told them they could stay with her? Why did she constantly jump into a situation without thinking?
"Now." Sam's voice was stern.
Emma shook her head slightly in a silent apology. Tears filled her eyes as she watched the children set down the half-filled buckets of strawberries, and trudge over to the wagon.
Emma couldn't let them go without a warning to their father. "I'd keep a very close watch on them until you get them on that train, Mr. Jenkins. Next time they run away, you might not find them until it's too late."
"Stay out of it," he warned. "This isn't your problem."
Chapter 2
Stay out of it.
That's what he'd told her.
But how could she? How could she forget the looks the children had sent in her direction when Sam Jenkins took them away? How could she rid herself of the guilt filling her heart?
She'd made a promise to those children. Somehow, she had to keep her word. Yet short of abducting the children herself, she couldn't come up with any way to prevent their father from putting them on that train. Now, three days later, with only one more day until their departure, and she was no closer to a solution.
Emma breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fragrance of roses beside the porch.
"Emma?"
The voice filtered through Emma's thoughts. Turning, she saw Amanda walking towards her. Waddling would be a more accurate description, she thought with a smile. Her friend had only a short time left before giving birth to her first baby. Envy stabbed through Emma, as it always did when she saw a woman who was going to have a child of her own. She tamped it down and gave Amanda a bright smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."
"How are you?" Amanda asked. "What happened with the children? James said their father was frantic with worry."
Emma stopped sweeping and leaned the broom against the wall. "It was terrible," she said, then gave her an account of her confrontation with Sam Jenkins.
By the time she was finished, her voice was cracking, and she could feel tears stinging her eyes. She swallowed painfully. "If you'd seen the look Joseph gave me ..."
Amanda shook her head. "Oh, Emma. Not again. Whatever possessed you to promise them they could live with you? When are you going to learn to think things through before you make promises you can't keep."
Emma shrugged. "I know. I didn't mean to say anything. It just ... came out."
"And now--"
"They hate me," she said, taking the broom and giving the dirt on the steps a vicious sweep.
"I'm sure you're wrong."
"No. I'm not. They think I betrayed them. I don't know what to do," she muttered. "There must be a way."
"Did you suggest a housekeeper?"
"Yes. He refused."
"If the situation is as you say, I can understand why he'd want to send them to their grandparents. Although I doubt they'll be happy there."
Emma paused in her sweeping. "What do you mean?"
"I met Catherine when she and Sam first came to Charity. I remember her telling me once about her childhood. All I'm saying is that it didn't sound like one I'd want my children to have. But maybe it won't be for long."
"Perhaps."
"He may marry again and bring them home."
Emma considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't think so. He still seems to be despondent over his wife's death."
"There are plenty of women in town who would be happy to help him get over it. In fact, I'm sure if it wasn't for the fact that a woman would have to take on a ready-made family, he'd already be snatched up. He is handsome, don't you think?'"
Handsome? Emma hadn't given it much thought. But yes, she supposed he was, in a rugged sort of way. Dark hair that tended to curl, longer than the fashion, eyes so dark they appeared black beneath long lashes and straight brows, lips some women might consider sensual. But certainly not the type of man she'd ever be attracted to.
Then, the answer popped into her brain. "Amanda. That's it. Marriage. That's the perfect solution."
"Oh, no," Amanda cried. "I can see your brain working. Don't even think about it, Emma. You can't possibly find him a wife before tomorrow."
Emma sighed. "You're right. I just wish there was some way--"
"Let it go, Emma. There's nothing you can do. It's his decision."
"I know that, but something about those children ... oh, I can't explain it, but they seemed so ... alone ... and for the first time in my life, I felt ... whole."
"Whole?"
"Yes. As if I'd finally found a part of me that had been missing. Does that make sense?"
Amanda took Emma's hand and squeezed it. "Actually, it does. I felt exactly the same way when I met James. Luckily, he felt it too. But you can't solve this problem."
"That may be true, but until those children are on that train heading east, I won't give up trying."
***
"Are you ready, Nathan?"
Nathan nodded. "Yes, Pa."
"Then put your bag in the wagon," Sam said, doing his best to keep his voice from breaking. God, it was hard to talk with a lump the size of a potato in your throat. "Where are Joseph and Becky?"
"Outside, I think," Nathan replied. "They wanted to say goodbye to Lulu and Samson."
"What about you? Don't you want to say goodbye?"
Nathan eyed his father squarely, but Sam detected a quiver in his chin when he spoke. "They's just horses."
Sam suspected Nathan had already spent a fair bit of time in the barn that morning, but he said nothing. "I suppose that's so."
"When do we gotta go?" Nathan asked.
Sam glanced at the grandfather clock near the door. "Soon."
Soon. A few more hours, and he'd be alone. A few more hours, and the past ten years of his life would be gone, as if they'd never happened. A few more hours, and he'd be coming home to a house filled with nothing but memories.
Nathan's voice drew Sam's attention back. Nathan was gazing at the ceiling, but Sam saw the shimmer of tears in the little boy's eyes. "The lady lied."
"What lady?"
"Miss Emma. She lied. She said she wouldn't let you send us away. But you're gonna, ain'tcha?"
Damn the woman! Why had she promised them something she couldn't deliver?
"She didn't lie exactly," he suggested. Yes, she did. She'd stuck her nose into my business and made this whole thing even harder than it already is.
"She didn't?" Nathan's eyes widened. "You mean we don't gotta go?"
"No. That's not what I mean. She just ..." She just what? She just got carried away and butted into something she had no business in. She just gave them hope, hope that he had to destroy. "She just ... tried to help, that's all. But she doesn't know us, and she doesn't understand."
The hopeful expression on Nathan's face faded. "Me neither," he muttered.
"Nathan ..."
Nathan turned, his gaze searching his father's face.
"I'm sorry."
Nathan stared at Sam for what seemed like minutes, but it was only a few seconds. When he finally spoke, hi
s voice was louder than usual, and he pronounced his words carefully. "Don't matter. I don't care if you don't want us."
The words smashed into Sam's gut like a fist. Before he could catch his breath, Nathan turned and ran out.
"Well, Nathan Jenkins, ain't you a sight for sore eyes?" The voice outside boomed. Sam looked outside to see Fred Holloway climbing the steps. "Why if I didn't know better, I'd swear you was all spiffied up for some young lady."
"It's for my grandma and grandpa," Nathan replied solemnly. "Pa said we should look cibi ... civ ..."
"Civilized," Fred put in.
"Yeah. Civilized. Pa says we don't want our grandma and grandpa to think we're savages just 'cause we live in Texas."
"I see."
Nathan shrugged. Apparently he didn't care. And Sam didn't blame him. Normally, he didn't care what folks thought of him either. Especially Catherine's parents. But these weren't normal times, and this was too important for his own feelings to get in the way.
"Can I go now, Pa?" Nathan asked, clearly anxious to get away from the two men.
Sam nodded. "Don't get your suit dirty."
Moments later, the door slammed shut, and Sam heard Nathan's footsteps on the stairs.
"You sure you're doing the right thing?" Fred asked.
"Hell, no. But I don't see any other way."
"It isn't too late. I mean ... I'm sure Lou could manage to--"
"No." Sam held his hand up to stop Fred from going any further. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but you and Lou have done enough. I don't want to be beholden to you any more than I already am."
"Don't be a jackass," Fred sputtered. "You ain't beholden to us a-tall. Why, those young'uns is like our own."
"I know that. Lou's been like a mother to them since Catherine passed on. But right now there's nothing else I can do."
"That's what those young'uns need - a mama. You need to think about getting hitched again - give those babies of yours a mama."
A bitter laugh escaped from Sam's lips. "We've been all through that. No other woman could take Catherine's place."
Emma's Wish Page 3