The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

  “In the fire your hair catches all the light and almost glows.”

  “My hair?”

  “Yeah. I like it best in the sun, though. It kind of shimmers as if the light comes from inside.”

  She set a blanket on the stack on the open buckboard. “What are you doing?”

  “Folding blankets.”

  “I mean talking about my hair. Why are you talking about my hair?”

  “I was just giving you a compliment.”

  She flashed one hand, palm toward him. “Don’t give me any more compliments. Don’t be nice to me.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  She had no idea what was wrong with her. She’d enjoyed one of the best evenings of her life. She’d felt pride and hope and admiration for her students and the women who had traveled here with her. Being able to enjoy the evening, to enjoy her life, was nothing anyone took for granted. It was evident in the way people spoke and sang and interacted with each other that life was precious.

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Don’t pay any attention to me.”

  These people had survived so much as individuals, but they’d come together to start afresh and make a better life for themselves. They’d found a place—and possibly many reasons—to unite, with similar goals and dreams, and their children were now reaping the benefit of this new opportunity. She had everything to be thankful for and glad about.

  “Not paying attention to you is impossible,” he told her.

  She ignored his provoking statement. She wasn’t going to let him confuse her more than he had been. “Let’s get the boys. It’s getting late.”

  * * *

  There was a light shower early Sunday morning, and Marigold couldn’t help remembering Reverend Taggart’s prayer the night before. By the time church began, the skies had cleared. A slender older fellow played the organ that morning. Sam told her he’d been the organist when Hannah and her father had first arrived. “It was months before anyone knew she could play. She was sickly and stayed in her room at Aunt Mae’s a lot.”

  “Hannah? She looks so healthy.”

  “Turned out she wasn’t really sick. She was expecting and hiding it.”

  “Oh. But Ava is...?”

  “She and James knew each other before coming here. James is Ava’s father.”

  A steam whistle nearby notified of an arriving train. The townspeople had grown used to the sound and Reverend Taggart paused in his opening prayer.

  After the songs and the reverend’s preaching were done, Marigold spoke to a few of her friends as she made her way toward the door.

  She shook the reverend’s hand.

  “Blessings to you this week, Miss Brewster.”

  Little John caught up to her and took her hand. The sun shone brightly. She turned her face upward to the warm breeze. “Rain and sun on the new trees’ first day. Isn’t that just like God to provide what we need?”

  A man obstructed her path, bringing her up short. It took her brain a moment to analyze his face. She came in contact with so many people she didn’t know, or had only recently met, but this forbidding face was all too familiar.

  He didn’t look the same as the last time she’d seen him. His face was thinner—his entire person gaunt, his skin pallid, save the rash on the lower portion of his cheek and neck. But she still recognized Wade Berman.

  She became aware of Little John releasing her hand and backing away.

  “Wade?” Her thoughts still hadn’t come together. “What are you doing here?” She looked around but there was no one with him. “Where’s Violet?”

  “You and I need to have a conversation,” her brother-in-law said.

  She looked farther, glanced at the children leaving the churchyard with their parents. “Is she all right? Wade, has something happened?” Panic gripped her, and she got dizzy on her feet. “Where is Violet?”

  A strong arm came around her, and Seth steadied her. Her vision cleared. She didn’t care that people turned to look at her—and at Wade.

  “Violet is fine,” he said.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m certain. Who’s your friend?”

  “Seth Halloway,” Seth said from beside her.

  She took time to notice that Wade wore a nice shirt, brown jacket and tie. She hadn’t seen him dressed so nicely since his and Daisy’s wedding ceremony. Her money must have been adequate enough to dress him well.

  “Wade Berman.” He didn’t offer his hand and neither did Seth.

  Marigold’s anger grew. “What is it you have to say that you couldn’t write?”

  Wade gave Seth a piercing glance.

  “Whatever it is, say it in front of us both,” she insisted.

  He cleared his throat and adjusted his stance. “I’m not well.”

  “You don’t look well.”

  He grimaced. “No. It’s serious. And it’s only going to get worse.”

  “You need more money.”

  “No. Money won’t help. Well, money always helps, but it won’t fix me.”

  “We have a brilliant doctor of eclectic medicine in this town,” she offered. “I believe they call the science homeopathies.”

  Wade waved off her offer. “That’s not why I came. There’s nothing to be done.” The side of his mouth twitched. “I’m dying.”

  She was sorry for him but her thoughts went immediately to her niece. “What about Violet? You’ve taken her, now what will become of her?”

  “I’ll need to leave her with someone. You’re the best choice.”

  Relief, grief and gratefulness roared into her being like a tidal wave and rushed back out, leaving her nearly limp. She clung to Seth. “You’re leaving her with me?”

  “In truth, the child has made my life a misery since the moment I came for her. No one I’ve left her with has been able to handle her. She’s uncooperative. Cries all the time.”

  Marigold was so angry, she trembled. She wanted to run at him and strike him for taking Violet, for leaving her, for making her miserable. Seth tightened his embrace, holding her close against his side. Had he not, she might have done something she would regret.

  Wade opened his jacket and handed her a parchment envelope. “That’s everything you need. Written by an attorney, signed by me and witnessed before a judge. You won’t have a legal problem.”

  Seth released her so she could reach out. Her fingers shook on the envelope, but she opened it, slid out the creased document and read it. Her gaze went back to Wade’s. “When? When can I get her?”

  “Follow me.” He turned, found unsteady footing on the path and started toward the few remaining buggies and wagons. One carriage stood on the street, likely a rental from the livery. Upon the rear seat was a small form in a pastel lavender dress.

  That train whistle earlier! He’d brought her here by train!

  With Seth close behind, she ran toward that buggy. Toward the child with the curly red-gold hair.

  Seeing Marigold, Violet sprang to her feet.

  Marigold found a burst of energy and closed the distance, extending her arms.

  Violet leaped forward into her embrace and Marigold caught her. She held the girl so tightly, she caught herself before she caused harm, and she loosened her embrace, but kept her in her arms, the child’s legs locked around her waist. She held Violet’s head in one hand and looked at her dear face, the eyes so like her sister’s, and kissed every spot on her cheeks and forehead, pressed her own face to the girl’s, breathed in her scent and felt the warmth of her little body against her breast.

  Violet swiped the tears from her aunt’s face, then clung to her and sobbed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Seth felt tears on his own cheeks, swiped them with his sleeve and swallowed down the sting in his throat. This must be what if fe
lt like to be reunited with loved ones in heaven, he thought. Beauty. Love. God’s very best gift.

  But this reunion was present and tangible. Almost sacred.

  None of the twenty or so people who had noticed Marigold’s behavior and followed at a polite distance made a sound. The only sound was his own heart beating and the sobs of the child with hair just like her aunt’s shining in the sunlight.

  Finally, Violet moved back and looked up at her aunt. “Are we going home?”

  “We’re staying here. This will be our home.”

  The girl looked past Marigold’s shoulder for the first time, directing her gaze away from Wade and darting to Seth. Her attention dropped lower, and he turned his head to look down at the boys, their three faces wearing quizzical expressions.

  At last Marigold released her hold and let the girl stand on her own. She wiped Violet’s face with her fingers, smoothed her hair and grasped her hand as though she’d never let go. She led the child over to where her brother-in-law had been silently watching. “I want to keep her with me now.”

  “As I supposed.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll take this document to an attorney and make sure everything is in order.”

  Wade seemed unaffected. “It will be.”

  “You stay until then. I’ll compensate you for your trouble.”

  “I’ve already had a talk with Violet.” He looked down at her, but didn’t touch her or bend to her eye level. “You’re back with your aunt now. This is where you’re staying.”

  Violet said nothing.

  With a stiff nod, Wade took off at a slow ambling gait toward the conveyance, where he reached in and brought out two bags, which, with obvious effort, he placed on the ground. Then he climbed into the buggy and led the horses toward Eden Street and the hotel.

  Seth watched him go for a moment, and then studied Marigold’s face. She was still disbelieving. She turned, glancing at the scattering of observers, then led Violet to where Seth and the boys stood, Evelyn at his side, making little sniffling sounds.

  “This is my niece, Violet. I’ve been staying with this family,” she told the child. “Mrs. Halloway, Seth...and this is Tate, Harper and Little John.”

  “She’ll stay with us, of course,” his mother said to Marigold. “We’re happy to have you.” She gave the girl a watery smile.

  He felt as though he should say something, but could think of nothing befitting this shocking turn of events or the ordeal this little girl had endured. So he smiled what he hoped was a welcoming smile. “Hello, Violet.”

  Violet clung to Marigold without reply.

  Seth took the initiative to get moving. “Let’s head out then. I’ll get her bags.”

  Marigold sat in the back, with Violet crushed up against her. The boys sat across from them, observant and silent, while Seth drove the team with his mother beside him.

  Dewey came out to help with the horses. He reached to help down Marigold and the boys, and his eyebrows shot up. “Land sakes! You found another one.”

  Marigold made the introductions, then she took Violet’s hand and they all walked inside. “I’ll heat water and we will bathe you before dinner. I remember how much I longed for a bath after my train ri—”

  “Peony!” Violet’s cry stopped everyone in their tracks.

  The cat had come to greet them in the kitchen and skidded to a stop and gazed at Violet. The girl dropped to her knees and extended a hand. Peony touched her whiskers to her fingers, gave a little lick and then climbed right onto her lap and rubbed her head against her arm.

  “She got fatter,” Violet said.

  “She eats just the same.” Marigold went to heat water.

  A warning bell went off in Seth’s head. That cat did look a little wider than it had previously.

  He carried the battered satchels up to Marigold’s room. The space smelled like her, like her delicate orange scent. What would she do now? Her contract said nothing about additional lodging for another person. He didn’t mind having her niece here, of course. He would assure her, but hesitated to bring up the subject of her leaving again. She’d had her mind set.

  Peony came to inspect the luggage, touching her nose to each edge, the latches and the handles. Seth hunkered down beside her and spanned her midsection with both hands. She balked for a moment, but soon rolled over, and he felt her belly.

  Hopefully Marigold’s good mood would last until he had to tell her this news.

  * * *

  While Evelyn prepared a cold meal, Marigold carried warm water to the tub in the enormous pantry beside the kitchen. She helped Violet undress and washed her hair. Her hair was truly just like Marigold’s, so she knew how to tame the curls and had supplies ready. She worked up a lather with mild castile soap and massaged it into the girl’s head.

  “It smells good,” Violet said. “I haven’t smelled this for a long time.”

  “Who washed your hair for you while you were away?”

  “One of the ladies did it. One was nice, but some weren’t.”

  Did she want to know? “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you with me.”

  “Don’t be sad anymore, Aunt Mari.”

  “I won’t, darling.” She worked a beaten egg through the strands of hair to prevent the ends from drying out, rinsed it out and then rinsed again with a mixture of vinegar and rosemary water.

  She’d almost forgotten how slender and delicate Violet was in comparison to the sturdy boys she’d been bathing. She suspected, in fact, that her niece was thinner than she’d been previously. She could see her ribs and prominent spine as she dried her.

  The dress she’d taken from the satchel was wrinkled, and didn’t look as though it had been pressed. It was one she remembered and surely it was too short now.

  “I think you’ve grown a little taller. Bend over and shake out your hair.”

  Violet leaned forward and Marigold ran her fingers through the tresses, a familiar ritual neither had forgotten. When her niece straightened again, she wound curls around her fingers and let them spring into place to dry.

  Violet looked into her eyes as Marigold kneeled before her. She wrapped her arms around her neck and Marigold was overcome with emotion. She pressed her lips together to hold back a sob. She leaned back and held the child’s upper arms. “The Halloways are nice people. They’re kind and generous. They welcomed me to their home when I got here. Seth took in the boys as his own. It’s safe here. We’re together. Always.”

  Violet nodded.

  She would do everything in her power to always keep this child safe.

  * * *

  Seth noticed the seating arrangement but said nothing. He and his mother always sat at opposite ends of the table. Dewey was to Seth’s right, with Harper between him and Marigold. Tate was to Seth’s left, with Little John beside him. His mother had obviously done some strategic planning so as not to dislodge anyone or upset their routine. She simply moved herself right, closer to the corner, nearer to Little John, and made a place for Violet on her left, between herself and Marigold.

  He said the prayer as everyone bowed their heads. “Thank You, Lord, for bringing Violet here safely. We thank You, Father God, for her protection. Help us know how to comfort her and help her. Let her know we care about her and how much we want her here with us. Thank You for this food and for each other. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  He’d prayed a similar prayer when the boys had arrived. Tate obviously remembered, because he nodded at Seth, as though confirming the adequacy of his prayers.

  Violet merely nibbled at her food, unlike the boys, who had been ravenous upon their arrival. She was so delicate, he feared she’d blow away in a strong wind. Her appetite would pick up once she was exposed to the fresh air, sunshine, riding lessons and chores. She drank her whole glass of milk. He asked if she’d like more, and she politel
y replied, “Yes, please.”

  Marigold poured more and Violet drank it down.

  He and Marigold exchanged a glance.

  The little girl’s hair was still wet from her bath, but charming curls framed her face and fell over her shoulders. She looked strikingly like Marigold, even her hazel eye color and the shape of her face. Of course, he had no idea what Marigold’s sister had looked like, so her similarity probably wasn’t surprising. No one would ever question they were related.

  He often saw both parents in the boys, depending on their expressions, but he saw nothing of Wade Berman in Marigold’s niece. Thank goodness.

  He turned to the two older boys. “Tate and Harper, you’re excused from chores tonight. You can show Violet around the house and the yard. Play on the porch if you like. Don’t go near the stables or the barn without me, you hear?”

  “Yessir.” Tate turned to the newcomer with a serious expression. “We ain’t been here that long, neither.”

  “We’re off to do chores.” Dewey followed Seth outside.

  * * *

  The two women got up and stacked dishes. Marigold heated water for washing and scraped soap shavings. She gave Violet an encouraging smile. “I’ll be right here, I promise. You go on ahead with the boys and look at the rest of the house.”

  Never the bashful one, Tate asked, “Did your parents die, too?”

  Evelyn and Marigold looked at each other and then away. Suds dripped from Marigold’s fingers as she listened. The children were just on the other side of the kitchen doorway now.

  Violet must have nodded because there was no audible reply. Marigold bit her lip.

  “What about Seth?” It was Violet’s voice. “Isn’t he your father?”

  “No. He’s our pa’s goodest friend.”

  Marigold let her eyes roll up. She hadn’t even broached grammar with these children yet. They’d been here only a few weeks, and she figured working it into their reading and spelling curriculum would happen soon enough.

  “Marigold is your aunt?” Tate, asking more questions. “What is an aunt anyhow?”