“For your information, my wife is a strong, independent, and intelligent woman. Those are the qualities a woman needs to survive out here. I didn’t marry her for her fortune, Mr. Farley.”
“Please don’t tell me you married for love. And don’t think for one minute I accept that story of a mail-order bride. I suspect some kind of business arrangement.”
Jake rose from his chair. “We’re done here.”
Farley rose at the same time. “Jake, you will learn soon enough. Intelligent women are a bane to a man’s existence. You must put them in their place.”
By now, Jake was seething. “Farley, not one more word about my wife, or I promise you’ll regret it.”
***
Evangeline’s conversation with Violet was interrupted by the slam of the library door.
Jake’s face was colored with anger when he entered the room. “We’re leaving—now!” He turned to their hostess, his voice a little softer. “Thank you for the dinner, ma’am.” He took Evangeline’s arm and grabbed his hat from the hook as they left. She had the feeling if she hadn’t walked quickly, he would have dragged her out.
Evangeline felt the pressure on her arm relax as their feet hit the porch. Once they were in the wagon, she dared to speak. “Jake, I want to apologize for the way I spoke to Mr. Farley. I’m sure it did not help your cause.”
“No need to apologize. I should have spoken up sooner. He was baitin’ you, and like an idiot … I let him. I’m sorry he spoke to you like that. It’ll never happen again.”
Jake whipped up the horses, and Evangeline had to hang on a little tighter. They didn’t speak again until they raced by the men guarding the gate.
“While discussin’ his plan for catchin’ the rustlers, that sidewinder kept makin’ remarks ’bout you. Said I need to put you in your place.” Jake’s eyes flashed with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “If he wants to criticize his wife in front of God and everybody, that’s his business. I warned him.”
“What happened?”
“He couldn’t resist sayin’ one more thing about you. And I couldn’t resist punchin’ him in the mouth.”
“Oh, Jake, you didn’t … What did he say?”
“Smart women are more likely to go insane.”
“Is that so?”
Jake relaxed his grip on the reins. “I s’pose those are the kinds of things you hear from ignorant men.”
“I have never heard intelligent women were ugly as dirt, though.” She had a hard time stifling her laughter. “I suppose this evening ruined your chances of being Mr. Farley’s equal.”
“I don’t care whether he admires me or not. I don’t trust that snake, and gettin’ on his good side wouldn’t improve my opinion.” Jake’s frown darkened his face. “His plan to solve the cattle rustlin’ problem is plain stupid. He wants to take the cattle from two of the ranchers he suspects, as an example.”
“Example of what?”
“Don’t mess with King Farley, I guess.” Jake spat out the words, then sat silent for several minutes. “I got this feelin’ Bart has somethin’ to do with it. But I can’t prove it. Gotta wait for him to show his hand.”
“Did you tell Mr. Farley your suspicions?”
“My suspicions are not his business. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows all about it. He has little to lose from what he got stolen. It’s the rest of us who can’t afford the loss.”
“It’s sad how Bo lets Bart lead him around by the nose.” Evangeline wrapped her arms around her shoulders against the cooling breeze.
Jake placed the reins in one hand and maneuvered his jacket off with his free hand. He offered it to his wife. “Can’t figure that kid out.”
She pulled on the jacket. “I asked Bo why he liked Bart so much. It appears he reminds Bo of his father.”
“Poor kid, that could get him fired. Worse, he may get hanged along with Bart if he’s involved and we catch him.”
“Hanged?”
“Afraid so. Around here, cattle rustlin’s akin to killin’ a man.”
“I’ll be praying for Bo. It would be tragic for that child to hang because of Bart’s influence.”
CHAPTER 20
Wrapped in her blanket, Evangeline sat in the parlor’s semi-darkness. The nightmare had returned and invaded her sleep.
Old fears caused her heart to race. The guilty burden she thought she’d wrestled into submission clung to her afresh. At the mention of Uncle Carl, it came back from some hidden recess of her mind to torment her. The smell of Farley’s tobacco and whiskey reminded her of being trapped. The oppressive pain and humiliation engulfed her. Every graphic detail resurfaced, causing her body to shake.
How does Thomas Farley know of my uncle? How well he knew him was another question. Does he know …
Evangeline willed her mind not to go there. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. She meditated on the Twenty-third Psalm and other Scriptures that spoke of peace and comfort. Her uncle’s business acquaintance, Prentiss Davis, was no longer a threat to her physically. Yet her self-worth teetered on that one horrible night.
“Evangeline, you alright?”
She jumped at his voice, and her trembling increased as he stretched his hand toward her.
“Don’t touch me!” Evangeline hissed, raising her hands in defense.
Jake recoiled at her words. “What’s wrong?”
“Noth … nothing.” She knew her quivering voice betrayed her.
“I have a hard time believin’ it’s nothin’.”
Evangeline took in a few short breaths before answering. “You don’t like to be awakened from a nightmare. I don’t like to be touched after one.”
“Want to tell me about it?” His invitation was both comforting and terrifying. When she didn’t answer, he offered to make tea.
“Yes, please.” She turned away.
Jake lit a lamp before going to the kitchen.
Evangeline was embarrassed and ashamed. She rose to check on Juliet, concerned their voices might have awakened her. She found her sleeping on the bedroom floor with Dog. Thank you, Lord, she can enjoy her childhood. She stood close by, watching the child sleep for a few moments before returning to the parlor where Jake had the tea ready.
“Must have been some nightmare.”
“I guess. I don’t really remember it,” she lied. “I just remember the way it made me feel when I woke.”
“Sorry I scared you.”
“At least I didn’t hit my head on anything.”
“Yeah, I don’t sew too good.”
“You sew? How charming.” She hoped the light conversation would lead him away from further questions, even though his concern made her feel secure.
“Now that I have an expert, I won’t need to sew.”
“Could you pour another, please?” Evangeline raised her cup.
“Sure thing.” He took the cup from her trembling hands and placed it back on the saucer before refilling it.
She tried to still her hands as she raised the cup to her lips.
“Can I do anything for you?” he asked.
She felt like the patient instead of the doctor as he observed her. “Talk to me, Jake.”
“About what?”
“Anything. I need to put something fresh in my mind.”
He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, then scrubbed the stubble on his face. Filling her mind with his movements helped push aside her fears. For a fleeting moment her mind pictured him holding her close. A shudder caused her to pull the blanket closer.
“You sittin’ there wrapped up in a blanket reminds me of my mother.”
“Tell me about her.”
“One cold winter night durin’ a blizzard, Pa went out to get more firewood. We children were afraid he wasn’t comin’ back. That winter, a neighbor had died just ten feet from the barn ’cause he couldn’t see in the storm. We gathered ‘round the stove wearin’ every stitch of clothes we had and wrapped in every b
lanket and quilt in the house. Mamma told a story ’bout the hot days of summer. Then she would stop, and we young’uns would add to the story. Soon, we were laughin’ so hard we forgot all about Pa. We near jumped outta our skin when he blew in the door with a gust of wind. He’d been gone over an hour, and if he hadn’t bumped into the house, he’d never of found his way. We all took off our blankets and wrapped up Pa. Clevis and I took charge of puttin’ more wood on the fire, and Robert sat in Pa’s lap rubbin’ his cold cheeks and tellin’ him all ’bout the story we made up together.”
She relaxed as the scene played out in her mind. “How wonderful.”
Jake’s eyes caressed her. “Can we go back to bed now?”
“Yes.” Evangeline rose and headed back to their room. Pausing at the doorway, she turned to see Jake clearing the dishes. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Why not sleep on the bed tonight? I’ll take the floor.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
***
Jake took the teapot and cups into the kitchen, then stepped outside to look at the stars. He wondered if that snake Farley didn’t have something to do with her bad dream. What was the man trying to prove by his accusations? Viewing the vast sky, he determined whatever Farley thought he knew, he would protect Evangeline from it. Jake knew he loved her, but times like tonight he wondered if she would ever come to love him. She pushed him away when he wanted to comfort her, and yet just now her smile seemed to draw him in.
Lord, you sure know how to pick ‘em. Show me how to love her best.
As he gazed at the stars, God’s peace descended on him. He went back into the house, back to his room—their room. He could hear her gentle breathing as he lay down on the pallet. The smell of her scent on the pillow filled his senses as he drifted off to sleep.
***
Thud! The noise woke Jake from a foggy sleep. He opened one eye and turned toward the sound. Evangeline, in her nightgown, was bent over one of her trunks. Piles of books were stacked at her feet. He rose on one elbow as his wife methodically flipped through each book before setting it aside.
The nightgown, although modest, showed off her womanly form. Jake studied her with an appreciative grin for several minutes before speaking. “Whatcha doin’?”
Evangeline let out a squeal and pulled one of the books tightly to her chest. “Shhh! You’ll wake up Juliet.”
“Me? You’re the one that screamed. Whatcha lookin’ for?”
“Here it is.” Evangeline went to sit next to Jake. Her nearness sent all manner of amorous thoughts through his mind. He corralled them as she spoke.
“I woke up this morning with an epiphany.”
“A what?”
“An epiphany—a revelation. I know what happened to your friend Johnny.”
“How?” Jake moved a little closer to see the book she had.
She flipped through her handwritten journal. “During the war, Shamus and I were often on the battlefield in the aftermath tending the wounded. We’d take those we could back to the field hospital. We took Johnny there.”
“But I saw him covered in blood. He wasn’t movin’.”
“Yes, but he didn’t die.” Evangeline held her finger on the page. “During the war, I kept journals on all the wounded we treated. I found the journal where I recorded the entries regarding Jonathan Holt.” Pointing to the entry, she showed him the page. His eyes widened as he read.
Jonathan Holt, age twelve, Confederate soldier. Came in unconscious and covered with blood. Thank God it was not his. He regained consciousness after reaching the hospital. Private Holt suffers from a concussion. Prominent symptoms: severe headache and hearing loss.
Evangeline flipped a few more pages and showed him an entry two weeks later.
Private Holt’s hearing has returned. His headache is gone. I wrote his family in Brokenridge, Kentucky, on his behalf. Although his parents cannot read, Johnny assures me Mr. Wright at the general store will read the letter to them.
“Johnny is alive?” The revelation stunned Jake. His shoulders felt lighter. The burden of guilt lifted.
“The Union officer in charge of the hospital took pity on him and sent him home if he promised not to take up arms again.”
Jake rose, rummaged through a drawer, and retrieved a postcard-sized photograph. “Johnny wanted me to send this to his parents, along with a letter, if anythin’ should happen to him. I lost the letter when someone stole my coat, but I still have his picture. I guess I hoped to give it to his folks someday.”
Evangeline joined him as he gazed at the tintype. “That’s him, that’s Johnny Holt. I can only assume you are his guardian angel.”
“I’d forgotten. Johnny used to tell me his momma asked God to send a guardian angel to protect him.” Jake heard the strangeness of his own voice and willed the tears to stop forming. “He’d follow in my shadow everywhere.”
“Obviously, God sent him to you.”
Jake saw the joy in her face as she spoke.
Evangeline took the picture from his hand and stroked it with her finger. “He was such a sweet boy. How glad I was when he was allowed to go home rather than prison camp.”
“Thank you.” Jake reached out and drew her to him. Fond recollections of the lad replaced his sorrow. He shuddered, and the movement drew Evangeline’s arms around him in comfort. He hugged her close before releasing her. “Such a load is off my mind now. You know, I thought it strange you keepin’ all these journals. Now I’m glad.” Jake picked up the book and reread the entries.
“My father kept journals too. He is the one who got me started.” She began repacking the books.
Jake buttoned his shirt. “How many of those are about the wounded you cared for?”
“Three, perhaps four. You can thank Katie. She’s the one who packed them all.”
“How many journals you got?” Jake was silent as she unbraided and brushed her long, burgundy hair. How he wanted to touch it, bury his face in it.
“Twenty.”
He picked up his boots and sat next to her on the bed to pull them on.
“As a child, I kept a journal on birds and drew pictures. You saw one of my patient journals. I have a few full of lecture notes and articles on anything new in the medical field I heard. Around Juliet’s age, I kept one on interesting people I met or read about.”
“When did you have time to write it all down—let alone remember it?”
“I broke my arm twice, so I wrote to pass the time.”
Jake frowned at her. “How do you write with a broken arm?”
“You write with the other one, of course.” She set the brush on the dresser.
Jake delighted in her relaxed air. He was mesmerized by how deftly Evangeline braided her hair as she spoke. He dared not draw attention to it, fearing she’d become embarrassed and the intimacy of the moment would be broken.
Her eyes looked toward the ceiling as her face took on a thoughtful expression. “While I sat near a sick bed for days at a time, I wrote. Even on the train coming here, I wrote.”
She looked through the wardrobe, then turned with a pensive look. “While I wait up at night for you to come home, I write.”
A knock at the bedroom door kept him from responding.
“Uncle Jake, you awake?”
Jake opened the door to Juliet. She was dressed in trousers and boots, her hair in pigtails, but she wore a new ruffled blouse— another of Evangeline’s creations. The child seemed to be divided between wanting to be a cowboy and a lady. Evangeline had been right about the curtains. “Mornin’, sunshine.”
“Mornin’.” Juliet gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “You gotta come and help Dog.”
“Surely by now he can take himself outside.”
The child shrugged and smiled sweetly at him.
Jake tweaked Juliet’s cheek. “I’ll do it, but tonight he sleeps outside.”
***
Breakfast was nearly over when Dog began to bar
k frantically from his new wagon on the porch.
Cookie rose to look out the window. “It’s Farley, Boss.”
Jake’s breakfast turned sour in his stomach. “You all stay put. I’ll see to this.”
Farley dismounted his black stallion as Jake approached. “Marcum, I’ve come to apologize for being such a cad the other night. I deserved the bloody lip, and I’m a big enough man to admit it.” He extended his hand.
Jake crossed his arms. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never heard you apologize to anybody for anything.”
“I have rarely felt the need.”
“What do you really want, Farley?”
Thomas reached into his pocket for a cigar, bit off the end, lit it, and puffed. “I want to work with you to find the cattle rustlers. That’s not possible if we are at odds with each other.”
“That I can believe.”
“Marcum, you’re a smart man.” The man’s smile was condescending. “Maybe as smart as your wife.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Jake’s remark evoked a guffaw from the egotistical rancher.
“I got coffee in the house. You’re welcome to some.”
“I’ll take you up on your hospitality.” Farley took a long draw from his cigar and flipped his ashes on the porch.
As they entered the house, Jake noticed how Evangeline’s back stiffened. Farley removed his hat and stepped toward her.
“My dear Mrs. Marcum, I am here to apologize for my rude behavior the other night. Can you ever forgive me?”
Selena snorted as she removed the last of the dishes to the kitchen. Cookie leaned against the kitchen door.
Evangeline vigorously wiped the table. Jake could see her calming herself with every stroke of the cloth until at last she turned and looked the man full in the face. “Mr. Farley, I have had similar conversations with men of your ilk. I find them monotonous and boorish. You are forgiven. I only hope in the future you will take the time to get to know me before you cast your wide net of aspersions.” She smoothed her apron and shook his extended hand.
Jake couldn’t have been prouder.
“I will indeed, ma’am.” Farley’s voice sounded surprisingly sincere to Jake.
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