House On Windridge

by Tracie Peterson

  “First, we’ll pray. Then we’ll gab.” Everyone smiled and nodded, while Esther bowed her head. “Father, we thank You for this beautiful day and for the fellowship of friends. Bless our work to better the lives of those around us. May we always bring You glory and honor. Amen.”

  Jessica murmured an amen, but her heart and mind were far from the prayer. She had hoped to see Devon by now. She had imagined how they would meet on the road to Cottonwood, and he would surprise her with a caravan of goods and supplies that would leave no one doubting his honesty and goodness. But they had met no one on the road between Windridge and Cottonwood.

  Buck had instructed Sam to drive the massive stagelike carriage for the women. That way, they could enjoy the warmth and comfort of the plush furnishings. Sam had family in town and was only too happy to go home to his mother’s cooking while waiting for Kate and Jessica. It was also rumored that his parents’ neighbors had a fetching daughter who seemed to have an eye for Sam.

  Jessica had instructed Sam to check on Devon at the railroad station, just in case there was some word from him. She’d also told him to pick up the Windridge mail and to check with the telegraph office, just in case some word had come in that they’d not yet received because of the weather. She could hardly sit still through the sewing for want of knowing whether Sam had found out anything about Devon.

  “So when I finish with this quilt,” Esther was telling the women gathered around her frame, “I intend to donate it to poor Sarah Newcome. Her Elmer died two weeks ago, and they’re dirt poor. She’s got another baby coming in the spring, and those other three kids of hers don’t have proper clothes or bedding. I figured this here quilt could keep all three of them warm.”

  “My Christmas project was to make and finish five baby blankets for the new mothers in the area,” spoke another woman. “As soon as I get this last one quilted, I’ll probably start on my spring projects.”

  The chatter continued until it came to Jessica and Kate’s turn to speak. Kate seemed to understand Jessica’s confusion and took charge. “Jessica and I have had many projects this year. The latest one, however, is to put together a number of quilts to give to the orphans’ home in Topeka.”

  Jessica said nothing, realizing that Kate had indeed mentioned the project some weeks ago, but since that had occurred around the time of Devon’s departure, she’d totally forgotten what they were working toward.

  “The quilt tops we’re working on today are for the girls.” Kate held up her piece to reveal carefully ordered flower baskets. The colors were done up in lavender and pink calicos, with pieces of green and baskets of gold. “I think we’ll have them put together by Christmas, but whether or not we’ll be able to get them shipped north will depend on the weather.”

  At this the women made comments on the weather and how the early snow hampered one thing or another. The ice had been the worst, they all agreed, and for several minutes that topic held the conversation. Jessica sighed and worked to put together her pieces in an orderly fashion. There were only a few weeks left before Christmas. Devon should have been home already, and yet here she sat, with no word from him and no idea as to his welfare.

  A knock on the front door sent Esther off to find out who might have arrived and caused Jessica to hold her breath in anticipation that the visitor might be Devon. Disappointment engulfed her, however, as the visitor proved to be Gertrude Jenkins.

  “Sorry for being so late,” Gertrude announced. “I had so much to take care of this morning that I just couldn’t seem to get it all accomplished.” Her gaze fell upon Jessica and Kate, and her pasted smile faded. “Well, if I’d have known you were planning on coming to the party, we could have shared transportation.” Her voice sounded accusatory, as though Kate and Jessica had committed some sort of heinous crime.

  “Sorry about that, Gerty,” Kate replied without missing a beat. “We figured you’d still be all worn out from your travels abroad.”

  Jessica nearly smiled at this. She knew how artfully Kate had maneuvered Gertrude into her favorite topic. There’d be little more retribution for their lack of notification once Gertrude focused on her journeys.

  “Oh, I suppose I’m still young enough to bounce right back from such things. I do admit at first I was quite exhausted, but a few days of rest and I felt quite myself again.” She allowed Esther to take the pie pan she still held and then swept out of her coat and gloves and handed them to Esther just as she returned from the refreshment table.

  “We were just commenting on the weather and our projects,” Esther told her after seeing to Gertrude’s coat and gloves.

  Gertrude removed her ornate wool bonnet and set it aside on the fireplace mantel. “We suffered terribly from the ice,” she admitted. “But as for my project, well, I simply haven’t started one. I thought I’d come here and help someone else with theirs.”

  “Good,” said Esther. “You can help us quilt. I’ve already told the girls, but my Christmas project is for Sarah Newcome.”

  Gertrude’s chin lifted ever so slightly, but she said nothing as she took her seat at the quilting frame. After several moments of silence, someone finally asked her about her time in Paris, and the conversation picked back up with a detailed soliloquy.

  “Of course,” Gertrude said, eyeing Jessica suspiciously, “I was quite happy to arrive in Kansas City and make my connection for home.” Without pausing for breath she added, “Speaking of Kansas City, has Devon returned with your supplies?”

  Jessica felt the wind go out of her. She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t provoke a new topic of conversation centered around the possibility that Devon had deserted ranks. Apparently this dilemma showed on her face, because Gertrude nodded and continued.

  “I thought not. I hadn’t heard from any of my hands that he’d made it back into town. Well, I certainly hope for your sake that he’s at least notified you as to what’s keeping him.”

  “No, Gerty, Devon doesn’t need to check in with us,” Kate responded. “He’s family, and we trust him to be making the right choices. He left here with a long list of things to accomplish, and we don’t expect him to return until he’s able to negotiate everything to the benefit of the ranch.”

  “Yes,” Gertrude said, taking a stitch into the quilt, “but then, he left here with much more than a long list.”

  The other women in the room fell silent. Jessica felt as though all eyes had turned on her to learn the truth. Swallowing her fear and pride, Jessica looked blankly at Mrs. Jenkins. “Yes, he also left with about one hundred head of prime steers.”

  Gertrude, not to be toyed with, smiled. “Yes, I suppose he’ll be selling those for you in Kansas City.”

  “That’s right.”

  The tension in the room mounted as Gertrude replied, “I suppose he’ll be taking the money in cash.”

  Kate laughed. “Well, I certainly hope he doesn’t take it in trade.”

  The other women chuckled. They appeared to know how Gertrude could be, as evidenced by the way they remained so obviously cautious at the first sign of her attack on Devon.

  “I realize you believe the man can do no wrong,” Gertrude said, continuing to focus her attention on Esther’s quilt, “but you all know how I feel about him. You know how he hurt my Jane.”

  Unintelligible murmurings were the only response to this statement. Esther seemed to understand the pain it caused Jessica to hear such things. She smiled sweetly, giving Jessica the first sign of support from someone other than Kate.

  “I believe the Carters to have raised a fine son,” Esther began. “I knew his mother and father most of my life. When his father died and his mother and sister moved to Texas, I allowed him to stay here until he took up the position at Windridge. He showed only kindness and godliness while living in this house.”

  Gertrude was clearly offended by this and put
down her sewing to stare angrily at Esther. “Are you suggesting that his actions with my daughter were kind and godly? Kissing another woman while only weeks away from marriage to another? No, Devon Carter is a deceiver. I only hope that his long absence doesn’t signal yet another fault in him—that of theft.”

  “Devon is no thief!” Jessica declared, realizing how angry the woman had made her. “He has a job to do, and he will take as long as he needs in order to do it properly.”

  Gertrude turned a cold smile on Jessica. “Believe what you will, my dear, but actions have always spoken louder than words.”

  Jessica gripped the edge of her material so tightly that her fingers ached from the tension. Kate patted her gently, and Esther took up the cause. “Gerty, you’d do well to keep from being overly judgmental. You know what the Good Book says about such matters.”

  Gertrude appeared unfazed. “I know it says not to cast your pearls before swine. That’s exactly what this naïve young woman has done if she has given her fortune over to Devon Carter. If she has any expectations other than to find herself devoid of the money given over to that fool, then she’s more naïve than I think.”

  “I suppose the Christian thing to do,” Esther suggested, “would be to pray for Devon’s safe return.”

  Jessica felt like a lightning bolt had hit her. In all her worry and concern over Devon’s whereabouts, she’d sorely neglected the one thing she could do to aid him. Pray. She’d fretted—given herself over to all manner of wild imaginings, talked about his absence—and now fought about it as well. But she’d not really prayed. Furthermore, she’d promised Devon that she would pray for him, and other than a quickly rattled off request for his health and safety, she’d not given the matter another thought.

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Kate said. “Christian women should be more given over to speaking to God about matters rather than judging them falsely.”

  Gertrude glared at her, but Kate seemed unmoved by the obvious hostility that was directed at her.

  From that point on, the day moved rather quickly. Jessica found herself actually enjoying the company of the women, in spite of the rather frustrating beginning to their day.

  Later that afternoon, Esther stopped Jessica and Kate as they were preparing to leave. “Don’t pay any mind to Gerty,” she admonished. “The woman has a bitter heart. First, her daughter disgraces herself the way she did, then Gus refused her advances. She isn’t likely to be a good friend to you, Jessica.”

  Jessica wanted to ask Esther about her father and Gertrude but decided it would make better conversation on the trip home with Kate. “Thank you for all you did,” Jessica said instead. “I do appreciate it.”

  “That’s what we older women do best,” Esther said, patting Jessica’s arm. “We have the privilege of not caring what others think about us because we’re old enough to realize that the truth is more important than opinions. You stick with Kate, and she’ll help you through this.”

  “I will,” Jessica promised, already feeling much better.

  “And one other thing,” Esther added. “Your pa put a lot of faith in Devon Carter, and I put a lot of faith in your pa. He wasn’t without his mistakes—sending you away after Naomi died was probably his biggest one. But he had a good heart, and he was smart as a whip. He could judge horseflesh and humans like no one I’ve ever known. He trusted Devon for a reason.” She paused and smiled. “The reason—Devon is worthy of trust. Plain and simple.”

  Jessica smiled and nodded. “Yes, he is.”

  ❧

  Devon pulled up his coat collar in order to shield himself from the cold winter wind. It seemed the wind was worse in the city than in the Flinthills. The tall buildings seemed to force the wind down narrow corridors and tunnels of roads and alleyways. He’d be glad to get home and knew he was long overdue. He’d thought to drop a postcard to Jessica and let her know about his delays, but always he figured he’d be leaving in a day or two at the most and would surely beat the thing to Windridge. What happened, however, was that one day turned into two and then into a week. And now Devon was clearly three weeks overdue and had sent no word to Jessica.

  But there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Devon had finally managed to negotiate an order for the furniture needed at Windridge, and he’d arranged for the freighters to take the supplies out come spring. Then he’d taken it upon himself to telegraph his mother and ask her to speak on his behalf to Jeb Williams. This resulted in a telegram from Jeb himself stating he was more than happy to manage a deal between the Rocking W and Windridge. Devon felt as if he had the world by the tail. Everything was going better than he could have ever dreamed.

  Now, as he made his way back to his hotel room, Devon decided the cold was a small price to pay. Tomorrow he would go to the train station, where he’d already made arrangements for those supplies he intended to take home with him, and board a train for home. How good it would be to see them all again. Especially Jessica and Ryan. He smiled at the thought of their birthday presents sitting back in his hotel room.

  Kate had told him that both Jessica and Ryan shared their birthday with New Year’s Eve. So along with baubles for Christmas, Devon had picked out toy soldiers for Ryan and a jewelry box for Jessica. He already imagined how he would place his grandmother’s wedding ring inside the box and wait for her reaction when she realized that he was asking her to marry him. Turning down the alley where he always made his shortcut, Devon nearly laughed out loud. She would be surprised to say the least, he thought.

  Halfway to the hotel, Devon felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He felt with certainty that someone had stepped into the alley behind him, but he didn’t want to turn around and make a scene. He stepped up his pace but had gone no more than ten steps when a big burly man popped out from behind a stack of crates.

  “I’ll just be relieving you of your wallet,” the man said in a surprisingly refined tone.

  Devon felt a bit of relief, knowing that his wallet didn’t contain much more than a few dollars. He’d secured his remaining money in the hotel safe, recognizing that it was foolish to walk about the city with large quantities of money.

  He started to reach into his pocket just as the wind picked up. The gust came so strong that Devon’s hat blew back off his head. He turned to catch it before it got away from him, but apparently the man who’d been following him took this as a sign of attack and struck Devon over the head.

  Sinking to his knees, Devon fought for consciousness as the men began to beat him mercilessly. He thought of Jessica and how he wouldn’t be leaving on the morning train. He thought of how worried she’d be when he didn’t come back to Windridge. As his world went black, Devon Carter wondered if this was what it felt like to die.

  Chapter 9

  Christmas at Windridge came as a solemn affair. Jessica had no spirit for the holiday, and even Ryan moped about as though thoroughly discouraged at Devon having not returned. Kate and Buck had to admit that enough time had passed for Devon to have seen to all the responsibilities he’d gone to Kansas City in order to accomplish. They had very few words of encouragement for Jessica, and the house grew very quiet.

  Jessica still tried to pray. She worried that Devon might lay ill somewhere in the city with no one to care for him. She fretted that he’d been unable to sell the cattle or that some other catastrophe had befallen him causing him to be unable to purchase the things they needed.

  It was in a complete state of anxiety that Jessica decided to do a little cleaning. She started with Ryan’s room, thoroughly scouring every nook and cranny in order to make certain it met with her approval. Then she started on her own room. She went through the closet, reorganizing her clothes and even managing to pull the feather tick and mattress from her bed in order to turn them. That was when she found her father’s journal.

  Surprised that a man like Gus Gussop
had been given over to penning any thought to paper, Jessica felt nervous about opening the book. She felt intrusive, almost as if she were committing some kind of sin. Her father had never shared any part of himself with her—at least not in the way Jessica had needed him to share.

  Finding Ryan quite content to play in his room, Jessica took a seat near the fireplace and began to read.

  “It’s hard enough to allow my thoughts to come to mind,” she read aloud, “but to put them to paper seems to give them life of their own.”

  These were the opening words of her father’s journal. Eloquent speech for a rough-and-ready rancher who’d sent his only child away rather than be faced with raising her alone. Then Jessica had the startling realization that the words written here were to her mother.

  Naomi, you should never have left me to face this alone. You knew I wouldn’t be any good at it. You gave me a child, a beautiful daughter, and left me to live without you. How fair was that? I never had anything bad to say about you, with exception to this. You were wrong to go. Wrong to die and leave me here.

  Jessica continued to read in silence, unable to speak aloud the words that followed.

  She’s beautiful, just like you. I can see it every time she comes to visit. I see you in the roundness of her face, the darkness of her brown eyes. I see you in her temperament when she gets a full head of steam up, and I hear you in her laughter. How I loved you, Naomi. How I love our little girl.

  Jessica wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. Why couldn’t he have told her these things? Why couldn’t he have been honest with her and kept her at Windridge? The injustice of it all weighed heavily on her heart.

  These long years have been like a death sentence to me, and the only reason I write these things now is that the doctor tells me I’ll be joining you soon. What glory! To finally come home to you after all of these years. I know a man is supposed to look forward to heaven in order to be united with God, but forgive me, Lord, if I sin in this thought: It’s Naomi I long to see.