Carol Ritten Smith

by Stubborn Hearts

  It was Mary’s suggestion he try Tom’s place, saying Tom had just returned on the afternoon train.

  Bill’s knee-jerk reaction was to think they didn’t waste any time getting back together, but as he neared the Carver place, he started hoping she was there. Otherwise, he didn’t know what to do.

  Tom answered Bill’s second knock.

  “Beth here?” Bill demanded, pushing his way into the kitchen without bothering to say hello.

  “No, she’s not.”

  At Tom’s reply, Bill’s belligerent attitude wilted. “She isn’t?”

  Tom gritted his teeth. Bill was the last person he felt up to seeing. “I thought you’d have probably heard by now. Beth fainted and she’s staying at Doc’s overnight for observation,” Tom said.

  “Fainted? Beth’s never fainted before.” Bill was white and Tom wondered if he’d soon be picking a second Patterson up from the floor.

  “Doc said she’d be fine.”

  “Where’s Davy then?” Bill’s eyes darted nervously about the room.

  “He’s upstairs sleeping. He was fairly upset.”

  “Upset? What about?”

  Bill’s question puzzled Tom. “About Beth fainting, of course.”

  “Oh, right. Do you think Doc will let me see her? I need to talk to her.”

  “He might. I don’t know.”

  Bill began to back out the door, but Tom put his hand on Bill’s shoulder to stop him. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there? Maybe you’d better tell me.” He knew Beth was in no condition to be burdened further. “Come in and sit down.” He pulled out a chair at the table and then took one himself.

  Bill stared for some time at his hands clasped on the table before he began carefully, “Do you remember when you once said things aren’t always black and white?”

  How could Tom forget? It was the morning Bill had confronted Beth and him in the kitchen. “I remember.”

  “Well, I’m thinking this is one of them gray sort of things.” He looked solemnly at Tom.

  Tom steeled himself for what he was about to hear.

  “Me and Davy and Beth are in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble? With the law?”

  “I don’t know. I thought we were. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  Tom frowned. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”

  “All right. First of all, our last name ain’t Patterson, it’s Parkerson. We changed it when we came to Whistle Creek.”

  “Why?”

  “Give me a minute. I’m getting to that part. About four years ago, our parents died in an accident — ”

  “That can’t be. Beth told me they died last summer.”

  Bill banged his fists against the table. “Will you shut up and listen! It was four years ago. Ma and Pa were picking up feed over at the mill and there was a dust explosion. Anyhow, after the funeral, we were sent to live with Dad’s brother and his wife in Duggan, Saskatchewan. I was twelve then, Beth was fifteen, and Davy … I guess Davy was only two.”

  Tom listened silently, troubled and perplexed by what he had heard already.

  “Anyway, Uncle Mead and Aunt Tilly were usually drunk. Us kids did all the work, the chores, the cookin’, the cleanin’. Everything. They didn’t do diddly. Just sat around and drank. ’Course, when they drank they were mean.” Bill stopped for a moment. Tom could tell the memories were painful to recall. “I don’t know why Uncle Mead suddenly got worse, but he’d go off crazy mad over any stupid thing. We started to be afraid he might kill us in one of his rages, so we decided to get away. Our plan was to leave in the middle of the night when Uncle Mead and Aunt Tilly had passed out. We knew where they had hid some extra money.”

  Tom had questions, but he held them.

  “That very evening Uncle Mead started yellin’ and hittin’ Davy for leaving marbles on the floor. It was getting pretty bad, so Beth jumped in and pushed him away. Uncle Mead fell and hit his head on the corner of the hearth. He didn’t move or nothin’. Just laid there. There was lots of blood like his head was cracked wide open. We was so scared, we grabbed the money and ran.”

  Tom felt ill. Sweet mercy. Beth had killed her uncle. And all this time she was afraid to tell anyone, even me. It pained him that she didn’t trust him. “Where was your aunt during all this?” he asked.

  “Sleeping it off in the bedroom.”

  “How did you end up in Whistle Creek?” Tom asked.

  “We walked along the train tracks for a couple of days, hiding whenever we heard a train coming. By the third day, we were starving so at the next town we stopped to eat. We decided it would be safe to take the train from there. Just before we bought our tickets, Beth saw your ad at the train station. Right away she wrote up a fake résumé. She mailed it off and then we waited.”

  “Now I see why you changed your name.”

  “Yeah. We didn’t want anyone to find us. Every day Beth would go to the post office to see if there was a reply. We almost gave up hope and then finally the letter came. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t hired her.”

  And what would they have done if he hadn’t convinced the other trustees to let them stay, Tom thought. “Where were you while you waited?”

  “We hid in a barn close to town. Belonged to an old farmer and his wife. We raided their garden at night.”

  Tom thought for a moment before speaking. “Seems to me, you should talk to the authorities. Mead was killed in self-defense.”

  “No, no. Uncle Mead wasn’t dead after all. Today he showed up at the livery.”

  Tom heaved a heavy sigh of relief. He got up and went to the stove and poured himself a coffee. He raised a cup at Bill, but Bill declined. When Tom returned to the table he said, “If it’s the hidden money he’s after, I’ll reimburse him.”

  “I wish it was only that. He wants to take me and Davy back, ’cause he still has legal custody. If I had to, I could go. I could probably handle it again,” he stated bravely, though his voice broke, indicating otherwise, “but Davy, I don’t know. What do you think we should do?”

  “First of all, don’t worry. You won’t be going back, either of you — not if I have anything to say about it.”

  “You’re gonna help us?”

  Tom nodded, forming a plan. “I’d better talk to Aaron Lanson. Maybe he can give us some legal advice. Got any idea where your uncle might be?”

  “Probably in the saloon.”

  Tom went for his coat. “All right. We’ll go there first.”

  Bill shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “You won’t have to. Just point him out to me. Then you can come back and stay the night here. Someone needs to stay with Davy.”

  A few minutes later, standing in the doorway of the crowded saloon, Bill pointed across the smoky haze. “There he is, the guy with the cigar.”

  Tom recognized him immediately. He gritted his teeth in anger, remembering how the foul-smelling man from the train had accosted him on the street and asked directions to the livery. “Okay, I’ll handle it from here.”

  “Whatcha gonna do?”

  “Don’t know yet. What I’d like to do is illegal.” He squeezed Bill’s shoulder. “Go back to my place. I’ll get this mess straightened out somehow.”

  Chapter 21

  Mead Parkerson sat alone at a table.

  “Mind if I join you?” Tom asked, fighting off his repulsion. A rotting, three-day-old carcass smelled better than what Mead had poking out the side of his mouth.

  Mead obliged by pushing out the opposite chair with his foot. “Beginning to think folks around here were downright unfriendly.” He drew deeply on his cigar and exhaled the putrid smoke in Tom’s face, then set the cigar across the ashtray and studied Tom. He brightened. “Hey! I remember you from the train.”

  Tom turned and gestured for Sam to bring him a pint. “What brings you to our town?” he asked.

  “Family business.” Mead took a swig of his al
e, winced, and then belched. “I’m waiting to see the lawyer. Hear tell he comes in every evening at eight to play pool.”

  Tom glanced at the clock hanging behind the bar. Seven-thirty. Somehow he would have to prevent Mead from talking with Lanson.

  Mead slugged back more of his ale, belched again loudly, and then rubbed his belly. “Don’t know what I ate at that joint ’cross the street, but it sure as hell ain’t sitting right. Feels like my stomach’s on fire or somethin’.”

  With any luck it was tainted food and it will kill you. “Marcia is Mexican. She cooks spicy.”

  “That’s why I got me a glass of elixir right here.”

  While Mead guzzled his ale, Tom came up with an idea, inspired by the word elixir. “Say, if you’ve got an upset stomach, Sam can fix you something to take care of it.”

  “Who’s Sam?”

  “The bartender.”

  Mead loosened his belt buckle and undid the top button of his trousers. “I’d surely like to give it a try. I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

  “I’ll ask him to make you one.”

  “Why, that’s might friendly of you.”

  “Think nothing of it.” Tom approached the bar.

  “Evening, Tom,” Sam said, drying a glass and setting it under the bar.

  “Sam,” Tom returned. “See the guy I’m sitting with?”

  “Yeah, who in blazes is he anyway? He and his damn cigar are costing me money.”

  “His name is Mead Parkerson. Listen, do me a favor? Remember that special coffee you made for me that time I got so drunk?”

  “Yeah, I know the one.” Sam draped the towel over his shoulder and braced his palms on the bar. “What about it?”

  “Think you could do something to make it a bit more palatable?”

  “It’s not supposed to be a social drink.”

  “Oh, I know, but could you?”

  Sam nodded. “I could make horse piss taste good if I wanted.”

  Tom’s lips turned up into a lecherous grin. “I’ll make you a deal. You mix him that drink, I’ll get rid of the cigar.”

  Sam peered across Tom’s shoulder at the smoke curling up from the ashtray. “Deal.” He drew a big mug out from under the counter. “I’ll bring it over in a minute. On the house.”

  Tom returned to the table just as Mead lifted one side of his rump to pass gas. “Hope he hurries with that drink,” Mead whined.

  So did Tom. He found it impossible to believe this disgusting boor could be related to Beth.

  The drink arrived and whatever Sam did to it, he must have improved the taste immensely for Mead downed it like he was guzzling cherry cordial. “Hey.” He patted his belly, “I think it’s starting to work already.”

  Tom smiled to himself. Give it a minute. “You got relatives here in Whistle Creek?” he asked, fishing for details.

  “A niece and two nephews. They’s my brother’s kids. When he and his wife died, my wife and I took them in, but them ungrateful brats run away. It was just by chance, I learned the girl is teaching out here and the oldest boy is working at the livery. I come to get the boys back to help do the farm chores. The place can’t run itself.” Mead frowned, and wiggled in his chair.

  “Who’s taking care of things while you’re gone?”

  “The wife.”

  “What about your niece?” Tom asked. “Aren’t you taking her back too?”

  “Nah, don’t want her. She was always a troublemaker. Defiant sort.” Mead’s eyes grew big, sweat beaded on his forehead and his face turned the color of moldy hay.

  “You feeling all right?” Tom asked, hiding his satisfied grin behind the rim of his beer glass.

  Mead grimaced. “Shit. Feels like someone’s tying my innards in a knot. I think maybe I should — ” Unable to finish what he was going to say, Mead bolted for the door, practically bowling Aaron Lanson over on his way out.

  Tom snubbed out that damnable cigar and exchanged a thumbs-up with Sam.

  Aaron Lanson was chalking a cue when Tom approached him. “I was wondering if I could bother you for a few minutes. I need some advice.”

  “Certainly.” He nodded toward a table. “Let’s have a seat. What’s on your mind?”

  As Tom proceeded to explain the situation, Lanson leaned forward in his chair and listened, occasionally interjecting a question or uttering an, “I see.”

  At the end, Tom asked, “Will you help us?”

  It was a few minutes before Lanson said, “I have to say, this case is intriguing, but I’d like to talk to Bill for more details first before I make any decisions.”

  “Of course. He’s at my place right now. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Both men pushed away from the table and made their way to Tom’s place.

  • • •

  Tom stared at the black ceiling long into the night, his mind mulling over all he’d heard the last few hours and, in light of his new understanding, he felt like shooting Parkerson right between the eyes. The man was cruel and if he had died at Beth’s hands, it would have served him right. Tom vowed to do everything in his power to see that Mead wouldn’t lay a hand on those boys or Beth again.

  He thought of the baby growing inside Beth and he felt himself grow protective. This is my family and heaven help whoever tries to harm them because I will defend them with my life. But first he’d give Lanson’s plan a try.

  Early the next morning, rising before Bill and Davy were awake, Tom hastened to the doctor’s office.

  “She’s gone. I advised her to wait for you, but she said she had too much to do,” Doc explained, shaking his head. “Stubborn women these days.”

  Tom experienced a sickening sense of déjà vu as he hurried to Beth’s place. He knocked on the door, waited, and when she didn’t answer, he opened it himself. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see satchels packed and standing by the door.

  Beth came from the boys’ bedroom, looked startled to see him there, but quickly recovered. She acknowledged his presence by saying, “I don’t have time to talk right now,” and then went back for another bag.

  “What are you doing?” Tom asked when she returned.

  “We’re leaving, Tom.” Her voice was void of expression.

  Over my dead body, he thought. “Do you really think I would let you go when you’re carrying my child?”

  “I’m not pregnant,” she stated emphatically. “Doc Fisher is mistaken. I just had a touch of influenza.”

  “Beth, I don’t buy it. You’ve been sick every morning for weeks now. I imagine there have been other changes,” — how could he say this without offending her? — “changes in your personal cycle to indicate you are pregnant.”

  Beth blushed to the soles of her feet. “Precisely! If anyone should know, I should. I am not pregnant!” she retorted.

  Tom’s eyes became lackluster. Not pregnant? It felt as if a piece of his heart had been pinched off. He sat in the nearest chair, the disappointment almost felling him.

  “Thank you for keeping Davy with you last night. Doc Fisher told me what you did.” She bent to resume her task of packing.

  “Your fainting scared him pretty bad. Me too, for that matter. It must have been quite a shock for you to see your uncle get off the train.”

  She straightened up. “So, you know?”

  Tom gently grasped her arm. “Bill told me. He told me everything, Beth. All about Mead, your Aunt Tilly. What it was like having to live with them. How you thought you’d killed him. Running away. Everything.”

  Beth sank into a chair, and tears that came so easily of late, traced down her cheeks.

  Tom sat on his haunches before her and held her trembling hands. “He wants to take the boys back.”

  “I expected as much. That’s why we have to leave immediately. He can’t take Bill and Davy.”

  “Shhh. Listen, I talked to Aaron Lanson and he suggested — ”

  “You told Mr. Lanson about us?”

  “He’s a lawyer, Beth.
He wants to help.”

  “Why? He barely knows us.”

  “Because I’ve retained him. He says we’ll have to take Mead to court.”

  She stared despondently at her lap. “I doubt it will be that easy.”

  “No, probably not. Lanson figures the judge might favor your uncle over you because he at least would provide a male influence for the boys.”

  She gave a pathetic laugh. “A male influence? What good is his kind of male influence?” Her words were bitter. “He doesn’t love them.” She buried her face in her hands.

  Tom ached to see her this way. He gathered her in his arms. “I have an idea, but before you make any decisions, I want you to hear me out completely and consider it carefully. Okay?” She didn’t respond so he repeated, “Okay?”

  She nodded, her face still hidden in her hands.

  He pulled back. “I could be a male influence for the boys.”

  She let her hands drop to her lap, and blinked in confusion. “You want custody of Bill and Davy?”

  “Yes … well, not just me … I want the two of us to have custody. Beth, we’d have a good chance of keeping the boys if we’re married.”

  She gazed at him through liquid eyes. “You’d marry me just so Uncle Mead wouldn’t get the boys?”

  He smiled sadly. “You know I’ve wanted you as my wife for a long time. Mead’s coming to Whistle Creek has only emphasized the need to hurry. I won’t lose you, Beth. And I won’t give up Davy, nor Bill. I want us to be a family.”

  “A family?” Hope flickered in her eyes and then disappeared. “But what if it doesn’t work?”

  “We won’t know until we try.” Tom placed a quick kiss on her lips. “Trust me?” When she nodded, he kissed her again. “Okay, here’s the plan.”

  Tom left Beth minutes later, carrying Davy’s Sunday best clothes slung over his arm. He hurried, stopping at Betner’s long enough to briefly explain the situation and to ask Mary if she’d help Beth get ready, a task Mary readily accepted. Earl was in charge of notifying the minister that he’d be performing a wedding immediately following the morning service.