He hadn’t been there before, but just now entering the house, amidst a jingling of spurs and removing his Stetson, was a young, muscular, black-haired man who had gunslinger written all over him. Flanking him were two big, sombreroed Mexicans. All three were big and armed to the teeth. The biggest of the three closed the door behind himself. Riley settled his attention on the gunslinger, saying, “Howdy.”
The sober, staring gunslinger nodded as he ran his hand through his hair. “Howdy.”
In the space of the next few seconds, Riley made some snap judgments. Gunslinger type or not, this stranger had brought Jacey home safely. At this time of year. And she’d let him—this girl who didn’t let anybody do anything for her. So, it had to mean something. Riley stepped up to the man, extended his hand in greeting, and said, “Welcome. My name’s Riley Thorne. I’m Glory’s husband.”
A flicker of reaction raised the man’s eyebrows, flashed through his black eyes. It was there and gone so quickly that Riley wasn’t sure he’d seen it as the stranger clasped his hand, shook it, and said, “Pleased to meet you. This is Paco Torres. And Victor DosSantos. And I’m Zant Chapelo. Jacey’s husband.”
Riley froze. He heard the gasps and then the deathly quiet in the room behind him. Even the dogs, for once, didn’t raise Cain.
* * *
This was a tough one. They loved Jacey and were overwhelmed with joy that she was home. They wanted nothing to detract from that—not harsh words or a thoughtless accusation of betrayal. No one wanted to hurt her, or make her feel unwelcome in her own home. But she was married to the son of Kid Chapelo, the grandson of the man who’d set events into motion that had nearly gotten them all killed. There had to be one hell of a story behind her marrying this man. That notion, coupled with their faith in Jacey, got them through the awkward afternoon while she and Zant settled in.
Even out in the bunkhouse, though, things didn’t go smoothly. Smiley got an earful from his cowhands when he brought in the two huge Mexican men and their gear. Some of the Lawless men trailed their foreman into his office, closed the door, and complained they had a hard enough time trying to understand them durned Yankees’ lingo, without him tossing in two Mexicans who couldn’t parlay in any brand of English. Smiley’s advice was to see if they played poker—and then make the best of it.
Good advice for those in the main house, too. Following supper, they all settled onto the soft leather furniture in the great room, the girls sitting next to their husbands. Hannah and Glory briefly filled Jacey in on events in Boston and then here at home. The girls all marveled that they could be so wealthy now, thanks to Mama’s inheritance. Then no one knew what else to say. All the pleasant surprises—marriages and babies—had been exclaimed over. All that remained were the hard parts. And so, the silence.
Until Biddy spoke up. “Ye poor things. Not a one of ye was spared. Onto yer young heads was heaped yer fathers’ sins. Aye—yer fathers’. Yer troubles started over twenty years ago, not last September. But I’m hopin’ ’tis over now. I’m hopin’ yer done with hate, now that ye’ve seen what it can do. Just remember that it’s love what’s brought ye home—an’ all one family now.”
Another moment of silence followed. Then Jacey got up, drawing everyone’s attention her way. So like Papa, even to her black eyes and hair. She fished in a pocket and finally pulled out the tiny portrait of their great-grandmother Ardis and held it up. “Here’s what I went for—and I got it back,” she said with a grin.
As they all exclaimed happily, Jacey proudly placed her keepsake atop the mantel above the fireplace. Then she turned around and spoke to Glory. “I take it you got my package?”
Glory nodded and slipped her hand into Riley’s. “Yes. James McGinty brought it.”
Jacey nodded. “Alberto said he was reliable. Good. Well, I didn’t have this, at that time, to put in with your … things, but”—she glanced at Zant, who winked at her—“I have it now.” With that, she pulled out of her skirt’s other pocket a ruby necklace in an old-fashioned gold setting. The red gemstones sparkled in the firelight. She unceremoniously plopped it into Glory’s hand, saying, “This is the necklace mentioned in that journal.”
“But where—? How—?” Stricken with emotion, Glory stared at Laura Parker’s necklace, and then curled her fingers around it. Tears blurred her vision as she raised her head and sought her sister. “I don’t know what to say … except thank you. Jacey, I know this didn’t come to you easy. You probably risked your life to get it.”
Jacey nodded, shrugged like it was nothing. “What are sisters for?”
And Glory knew that was all Jacey would ever say about that whole Parker business. They were sisters. The hair stood up on Glory’s arms, even as a warmth rushed through her. This was just like Jacey. Didn’t say a word. Just went out and did it. Reckless and brave to the end, a fierce defender of all she loved.
And that brought them to the black-eyed gunslinger she’d married. Jacey pointed to him, saying, “Zant saved my life. And I saved his more than once. He’s a good man. I find it hard to believe he could love me at all, that he could forgive us for Papa killing his father, that he could forgive me and love me—after I killed his grandfather.”
Shocked gasps and turning heads all centered on Zant Chapelo. He kept his somber gaze firmly on Jacey. They hadn’t considered things from his side. But Jacey was absolutely right. And then, Biddy’s words seemed to hang in the air, words of hate and love and family. She was right—they’d all suffered. How could they judge him?
Jacey took up her story again. “Zant was never a part of Don Calderon’s scheming—except to put an end to it. The old man was purely insane and evil. He killed Zant’s mother and used to beat Zant until he got big enough to run off. But when he got wind of the old man’s scheming, he went back to Mexico to stop him. And he took me with him to keep me safe. But the old man’s dead now. And Zant’s got the responsibility for rebuilding down in Mexico what his grandfather tried to tear apart. And I’ll be there to help him.”
* * *
That next morning, as the girls cleared away breakfast, Hannah said, “Now, Glory, you know Slade and I have to get back to Boston. I want to have my baby there. And Jacey and Zant are going back to Mexico. So it looks like the Lawless spread is all yours. But you shouldn’t have to worry about a thing—or you either, Jacey—what with Mama’s money. Slade’s brought drafts for each of you. I suggest you sit down before you look at them.”
Stricken, Glory put a hand to her chest. “Oh, Hannah, don’t talk about land and money when you’re leaving. I don’t want you to go.” She turned to Jacey. “And you just got here.”
Jacey frowned and fussed, “Quit carrying on like we’re riding out today. And neither is Hannah. We’ll be here a spell yet.”
“That’s true,” Hannah said, gripping the back of a chair as they stood around the dining room table. “But there’s one thing I want us to do, now that we’re all three together again.” She paused, looking at each of her sisters in turn. “We need to go talk to Mama and Papa. And Old Pete.”
Jacey and Glory stood mute and sober and nodding. Then the three of them went to their separate rooms, got their coats and met again at the back door in the kitchen. Standing at the stove, Biddy silently watched them, seemed to know what they were doing. Her faded-blue eyes filled with tears, but she managed a watery smile for them.
Then, into the room filed Slade, Riley, and Zant. The men helped their wives bundle up. And then stepped back, holding Skeeter and Esmerelda by their collars. The sisters looked at each other and then went outside, closing the door behind them.
The day was cold and sunny, not as windy as it had been recently. The only snow was what clumped in dirty patches here and there. The three crosses at the top of the hill stood out against the winter-blue sky. Keeping their own private thoughts, Hannah, Jacey, and Glory trudged up the hill’s slope. If they felt the cold, they didn’t remark on it. Then, they were there and swinging open the squeaky g
ate, stepping inside.
Without word or design—but one on either side and helping the pregnant Hannah—they kneeled at the foot of J. C. and Catherine Lawless’s final resting places. The girls’ hands seemed to seek each other’s of their own accord. Then, Glory and Jacey turned to Hannah, as they always had, and waited for her to say the words in their hearts. Hannah smiled and turned to the crosses.
“Mama, Papa, Old Pete, we’re done with vengeance. We’ve fulfilled our blood oath to you. We know you’re proud of us. We know you love us. We’ve felt your loving and protective presences with us, each and every step of the way. Know this: As long as we’re alive, as long as your grandchildren and great-grandchildren and their children live, you’ll be remembered. You’ll live always in the love we bear you.
“In our hearts, we’ll forever remain Lawless women. And this we promise you: To live well and to love well, as you’ve taught us. That is our new promise to you. And a new beginning for us all. So be it, and amen.”
Jacey and Glory, as one, repeated softly, “To live well and to love well. So be it, and amen.”
About the Author
Savannah, Georgia-born novelist Cheryl Anne Porter celebrates her Cherokee heritage in her spellbinding historical mystery Wild Flower. A National Readers Choice Award winner whose past work has been chosen by the library of Congress for its Rare Book Collection, Cheryl wins consistent praise from reviewers for her skill at weaving taut, character-driven historical suspense. And her international reading audience knows the dynamic and prolific author is equally proficient at writing sparkling contemporary comedy. Her novel Mad About Maddie delights readers with its vibrant humor and marvelously memorable characters. A college-level fiction writing instructor, Cheryl is a popular keynote speaker who presents writing seminars and workshops nationwide. She resides in Tampa, Florida. You can sign up for email updates here.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks titles by Cheryl Anne Porter
HANNAH’S PROMISE
JACEY’S RECKLESS HEART
SEASONS OF GLORY
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
About the Author
St. Martin’s Paperbacks titles by Cheryl Anne Porter
Copyright
SEASONS OF GLORY
Copyright © 1998 by Cheryl Anne Porter.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
ISBN: 0-312-96625-3
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / July 1998
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
eISBN 9781250092748
First eBook edition: June 2015
Seasons of Glory Page 35