by Linda Ford
Mrs. Morgan had said he’d have his own private quarters when he spoke to her in town, having arranged an interview there. Another reason to convince him he wanted this job. He would be able to slip in and out unnoticed as he tracked his foe.
He followed her to a tiny house—one small window, a narrow door and a low roof. She opened the door and stepped inside with him at her heels. Only the wall facing the yard was boards. The others were sod. “It’s a—”
“A soddie. Yes. The original house. I hope you’ll be comfortable.” The tone of her voice suggested she wished anything but. “The bed’s made up. There’re shelves for your belongings.”
She’d been waving at things as she talked but now spun on him. Her gaze raked him. “I know you’re the man I saw before. If you’re up to no good, I’ll soon enough find out.”
“Miss Madge, you must be mistake—”
“Don’t Miss Madge me, Justin Bellamy. Whatever your scheme, I’ll not let you harm my family.” She marched for the door—all of three steps away. “You’ll be taking meals with us. Supper is at six, which gives you time to earn your keep by teaching Louisa something she wants to learn.”
Judd watched her until she slammed into the house. Her suspicions were going to make his stay complicated, but he’d simply have to be extra cautious. He hated being dishonest, but he didn’t have much choice.
He recalled Madge’s anger when she’d plowed into him on the sidewalk. Remembered how she’d relented and chuckled. Too bad she couldn’t find humor in this situation. He’d love to hear her laugh again, see her eyes flash with amusement.
He flung his bag on the bed. He was not here to let pretty brown eyes confuse him. On the surface he was here to teach Louisa history and other subjects.
His real reason, however, would never take second place to his job. And if he felt any tug of regret that his dishonesty made an enemy out of Madge, he firmly ignored it.
Madge returned to the house. She’d been churning out clean sheets all morning and hauling them upstairs to hang and dry. She still had two more tubs to do, but she welcomed the chance to stomp up and down the stairs, huffing and puffing. Macat, sensing her mistress’s mood, climbed to her perch on the stool and observed with narrowed eyes.
“I’ll keep this to myself,” she muttered to the cat. “No need to worry Mother or Sally or frighten Louisa, but that man is hiding something.”
But what? And why did it make her so cross?
She hated herself for denying the truth and even more for admitting it, but since she’d bumped into him a week ago, she’d thought of him once or twice—dark, intense eyes full of honesty. Or so she’d believed. She snorted. “Honest, indeed. That man is lying through his teeth.”
But then, so was she. Thought of him once or twice? Ha. But she did not want to admit the truth… He came to her mind almost constantly.
She pretended she didn’t notice him return from the cabin with two books under his arm. Instead, she rushed upstairs with the last load of wet laundry, and muttered protests as she hung the sheets.
Only when she was certain he would be ensconced in the front room with Louisa did she clatter down the stairs, rushing past the doorway without allowing herself to glance in. Macat followed at a leisurely pace, protesting Madge’s haste.
Madge’s emotions gave strength to her muscles, and she carried the wash water, two buckets at a time, to the garden where she rationed a drink to the few surviving plants. Whatever they raised was essential for providing adequate food, so she’d constructed wooden windbreaks around the plants in the hopes of nursing them through the dust storms and drought. Still, they didn’t promise more than a bit of cabbage or a few scrawny potatoes.
She drove off the grasshoppers, only to watch hordes more replace them.
She paused from her labors to glance toward the heavens. God, You see our situation and that of so many people. Please send relief. And make it possible for me to find more paying work or some source of income.
Trusting God was difficult when the circumstances offered nothing but failure. But as long as she could remember, she’d made it a practice to trust Him. She never doubted His love. It was as solid as the Rock of Gibraltar—as Father had always said. His love surely meant He would meet their needs. Having a home seemed pretty essential to her, especially given that they had no male protection and Louisa was frail.
She drew in a deep breath and settled her assurance on God’s provision before she returned to the washtubs and turned them over to dry. Until tomorrow, when she would begin another stack of laundry.
Finished with that part of the task, she stepped inside and paused to watch Louisa and Justin bent over a book. Harrumph. She knew he was hiding something.
Louisa glanced up, a glitter of pleasure in her eyes.
Instantly, guilt flooded Madge’s lungs. Mother had approved this man. Decided he was an appropriate candidate for Louisa. Seeing Louisa’s enjoyment after an hour shamed Madge. She had no reason to be so distrustful or so—
Lord, help me. Not only am I suspicious, but I am annoyed because I saw him first. Unless he has a stronger twin.
She could always hope.
By the time Madge had finished ironing and taken care of a few outdoor chores, Sally announced supper. Madge had decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt until she had something more solid than a chance encounter on the street to base her suspicions on.
Mother and Sally had the meal almost ready, but Madge helped place the serving dishes on the table. She noted with a mixture of gratitude and annoyance that the extra plate had been placed besides Louisa’s, which put Justin across from her. Not that it mattered where he sat, but perhaps this was the best place for him. From this position she could steal glances at him, perhaps catch something in his eyes he couldn’t hide.
Besides the dark intensity she recalled.
Mother announced the meal was served, and they sat around the table, Justin taking the indicated spot. Knowing her expression would give away things she didn’t want known—like interest and regret—she kept her head lowered until Mother said the blessing.
For a few minutes they were busy passing food. Somehow Mother and Sally managed to make their meager supplies stretch to satisfying meals. Tonight the hunk of meat she’d received in lieu of wages from one of her customers had been ground and mysterious ingredients added until it looked generous and succulent. The aroma had teased her taste buds for the past hour. Sally had managed to scrounge enough lamb’s quarters for rich greens and had stolen new potatoes from under the plants in the garden. Two small, tasty nuggets each. Now, with a man sharing meals, they would have to make food go further. Justin Bellamy had better prove his worth.
Madge had almost balked at accepting the meat instead of getting the cash she needed, but tonight she was grateful for good food.
“This is wonderful,” Justin said. “I haven’t eaten this well in months.”
“You can credit Sally with her inventiveness,” Mother said.
Justin turned to Sally. “Thank you, Miss Sally.”
Sally ducked her head. Always so painfully shy. Madge supposed it came from being the youngest. Then she flashed Justin a bright smile. “You’re welcome.”
Madge studied Justin, assessing his reaction to Sally’s gratitude. But he only gave a slight smile and a quick nod. Then, before she could look away, his gaze shot to her. “You have a very nice home.”
She nodded. “No need to sound surprised.”
“Madge!” Mother scolded.
But Justin laughed. “I’m not at all surprised.”
Did she detect a hint of acknowledgement? As if admitting they’d met earlier?
“Tell me more about yourselves.” He held Madge’s gaze a moment longer, then shifted to include the others. “How long have you lived here?”
Madge held her tongue for almost a second, but she burst with insistent curiosity and the words poured forth. “Surely you and Louisa have discussed this.” A
fter all, they had sat almost head to head, undisturbed, all afternoon. A little sting of jealousy shocked her. She couldn’t resent the time he spent with Louisa. That’s why he was here.
“No. It’s been strictly business.”
Louisa blushed. “He told me of the first day in college when there are get-acquainted parties. He says within a few days it’s easy to tell those who want to learn from those who only want to have fun. Or freedom from parental control.” She drew in a rough breath. “I can’t imagine wasting such an opportunity.” Her sigh was long and shaky.
Madge stuffed back any remnants of resentment. She’d always been able to do what she wanted—work, run, play, ride—whereas Louisa’s activities had been shaped by her weak lungs. She must not resent any scraps of happiness her sister found.
Not even if they involved a man like Justin—a man about whom she held suspicions and a lurking sense of something else, which would remain nameless and denied.
Mother took on the job of telling Justin about the family. “We moved here from the city of Edmonton six years ago. My husband wanted to farm. We bought this place and built a new house.” She sighed. “In hindsight, perhaps we should have been satisfied with something much smaller, but at the time the economy was so bright. My husband died unexpectedly three years ago—just before the crash. At least he was spared that.”
Somehow Madge didn’t think Father would be as glad as Mother seemed to think. He’d surely have wanted to shepherd them through this crisis, see they were safe and sheltered. They needed him now like never before. But obviously the Lord thought otherwise.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure it’s been tough to manage.”
Justin sounded as if Mother’s loss really mattered to him. Did he understand how hard life was? Truly, without assurance that God would take care of them, there were times Madge wondered how they would make it through another month.
“The situation is difficult for everyone. We are perhaps more fortunate than some,” Mother said.
“How’s that?”
Madge continued to study him, drawn inexorably by the gentle concern in his voice. Their gazes touched, and he held the look for a moment before sliding away, leaving her feeling washed and exposed. She must guard her thoughts better, lest he guess at her confusion of interest and caution.
Mother spoke her name, and Madge shifted her attention to hear her words. “Madge has kept us all afloat.”
Madge revealed nothing in her expression. None of the agony some of her decisions had caused as Mother explained how she’d negotiated a deal to give the bulk of their land to the bank in exchange for keeping the house and a mortgage they could manage. She might soon be forced to admit it was too much if God didn’t provide an answer to her prayer for another job, another source of income.
After a few minutes she interrupted the discussion. “It’s your turn. Tell us about your family and where you’re from.”
Judd hauled his thoughts to a halt. He didn’t want the conversation focused on him. He’d tried to plan what he could reveal and what he must hide. Figured he had it worked out satisfactorily, but still he didn’t like the thought of having to tell half-truths in order to keep his identity a secret. Besides, he’d enjoyed hearing how Madge managed to save their home. And not just save the home to live like paupers. These people ate decently and were together. Not everyone could claim such success.
His jaw tightened. His own mother could testify to that, but it wasn’t her fault things had turned out as they had.
Four pairs of eyes silently urged him to share. One pair, especially, challenged him. He’d tried to divide his attention equally among those at the table, but again and again, his gaze left the others to watch Madge. She wore a practical brown dress. Her glistening brown hair tumbled about as if it had a mind of its own.
Aware they waited for his answer, he pulled his thoughts back from concentrating on Madge. “My mother is a widow, too. She’s had a difficult time because of the reversal of her fortunes.”
Mrs. Morgan sighed. “The crash hit so many people. Now the drought is touching even those who had no money to lose in the first place. On top of that, the low prices for our products…why, wheat is down to twenty-eight cents a bushel. How can farmers hope to survive?”
They all shook their heads. He let them think his mother had lost everything in the collapse of the financial markets. Only in her case, it was a scoundrel who’d brought about her personal crash.
Mrs. Morgan continued. “At least she has you to help.”
“And three more sons.”
“Four boys?” Mrs. Morgan perked up.
He wondered if she regretted having only daughters.
“I expect your mother is well taken care of.”
“She is now.” Shoot. He shouldn’t have said “now.” Four pairs of eyebrows shot upwards, and four pairs of eyes demanded an explanation. Aware of an especially intense gaze from across the table, he turned to Mrs. Morgan, afraid his emotions might reveal themselves despite his best intentions. Could he explain without giving away more than was safe? “We didn’t realize how badly she needed help. She had too much pride to confess it. Somehow she managed to hide it even from Levi, who is still living at home.”
“Tell us about your brothers. Is Levi the youngest?”
“Yes. He’s seventeen. Redford is the next one. He’s teaching. Has been for…well, he’s twenty-three, so I guess he’s been teaching four years now. Then Carson is a lawyer. He’s a year younger than I am.”
“How old would that make him?” Madge demanded.
Judd tucked away a smile. Curious about him, was she? Even though she watched him with as much concentration as did Louisa’s small dog. “Carson is twenty-five.”
They studied each other across the table, measuring, assessing. He wished he didn’t have to conceal the truth about who he was. But he did. Determination stiffened his muscles, making his mouth tighten.
Her eyes narrowed. “How did you hurt your leg?”
“Madge!” Mrs. Morgan sounded as if she couldn’t believe her daughter, though whether because her question was so bold or because of the hint of mockery in her voice.
“I got thrown from a wild horse.” At least that part was true.
Louisa gasped. “A wild horse? Why would you be riding such a creature?”
“My job was to break him. I decided to do it the fast way. Only it proved to be the slow way for me. Someone else had to finish the job while I lay around recuperating.” Again, that part was true.
Madge squinted at him. “I thought you were a teacher. Isn’t that why you went to university?”
He chuckled, pleased he confounded her with the truth. “After a year of teaching I realized I didn’t really like the job, so I let Redford apply for the position and I headed to the foothills. That’s where I was when my mother lost her home.” If he’d been around, he might have seen what was happening. Perhaps been able to stop it.
Instead, he’d been away, unaware of events, but he aimed to right things as best he could now. The man responsible for his mother’s loss would not escape without somehow paying. Judd didn’t much care how, so long as he paid. He’d watch the man, see what he planned, who he picked for his next victim, then confront him, expose him to one and all, make him own the truth and then turn him over to the law. He wondered if the courts would make him repay his victims. Sometimes he considered taking the law into his own hands but so far had listened to the voice of reason—or moderation, perhaps—drilled into him by his mother.
“Where is your mother living now?”
Mrs. Morgan’s question pulled him back to the watchful interest of Madge and the quiet curiosity of her sisters. “Mother and Levi found a good home with Carson in Regina, Saskatchewan.”
“I’m glad. It must be a relief for her.”
“And me.”
Mrs. Morgan’s gaze softened. “Your mother is blessed to have sons who care about her.”
“S
he’s doubly blessed. Her faith has never faltered. She’s certain God will take care of her no matter what.” She’d repeated the words over and over as she tried to make Judd understand the man who stole her money shouldn’t be hunted down and tied to a fence to dry. “‘God,’ she’d said, ‘is in control. He will see to justice.’”
“As do I,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Girls, I want to assure you I interviewed Justin at length about his faith, and he convinced me he is a strong believer.”
At her faith in him, guilt burned up Judd’s throat. He certainly believed in God, had become a Christian when he was only eight, but he wasn’t willing to sit back and wait for God to take care of things that were in his power to deal with. Like the man who stole his mother’s life savings.
“Where were you when you broke your leg?” Madge sounded like Carson with his best lawyer voice. Her question was more than a question; it was a demand for an explanation.
“On a ranch in the foothills of Alberta.”
“A cowboy.” She sounded as if that explained everything.
His heart fell as he realized his words verified her suspicions about meeting him on the street a week ago when he’d been dressed as a cowboy rather than a teacher. In hindsight, it might have been better to disguise that fact. But it was too late now. Somehow he had to convince her—all of them—he was no longer a cowboy. He shrugged and remembered to cough. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it’s not as romantic and adventuresome as one might think. It’s mostly hard, unrelenting work that wears many a man down to the bone.” He spoke the truth—a relief to his burning conscience, though it wasn’t an opinion he shared.
“Wouldn’t the fresh air be good for your lungs?” Madge asked, her voice signaling a touch of disbelief.
“Madge, I’m sure Justin doesn’t care to have his health problems as part of our conversation.”
Madge gave her mother an apologetic smile, then fixed Judd with an uncompromising look. He didn’t claim any special powers at reading a woman’s mind, but he got her loud and clear. She silently warned him she would be challenging everything he said and did.