by Ryan, Renee
Well, Logan Mitchell and Mavis argued. The reverend mediated.
Shaking her head at them all, Hannah switched her one very small satchel to her left hand and boarded the train. After taking a short inventory of available seats, she chose one at the back of the railway car.
As she worked her way through the crowd, she breathed in the rich aroma of pipe tobacco, women’s perfume and lemon-seed oil. The interior of the compartment had an expensive, stylish feel to it. Red velvet upholstery covered rich, dark mahogany seats. Large, rectangular windows were framed with intricate crown molding. The carpeted flooring and brass fixtures completed the pretty picture.
But as beautiful as the compartment was, Hannah’s heart wasn’t in admiring the decor. For many reasons, she hadn’t wanted to leave Charity House this morning. She’d found a kindred spirit in Laney Dupree. And thanks to her time with the orphans, her dream of serving abandoned women and children had morphed into something far more tangible than “someday.”
Although she’d promised to return and produce the play about Rahab, the entire group of children had been unusually quiet at her departure.
Sighing, Hannah smoothed out a wrinkle on her skirt and thought of one girl in particular. Megan.
Poor, dejected Megan.
Hannah had felt an especially strong bond with Jane Goodwin’s daughter. It was yet another glaring reminder of how lacking the relationship with her own sister had grown through the years. Well, this time, when Hannah stood face-to-face with Rachel, she would not let the same old patterns of behavior control their encounter.
Oh, Lord. Her eyes fluttered shut. I pray for the courage to face my sister in truth. Give me the courage to end the lies between us.
Sighing again, Hannah opened her eyes in time to catch sight of her chaperone waddling down the aisle. Or, rather, she suspected the moving bundle was her chaperone. The wild white hair peeking over three large carpet bags certainly indicated her assumption was correct.
Hannah immediately rose to help her new friend. “Let me take those for you.”
“Don’t touch.” Mavis teetered to her left, then quickly righted herself. “I’m perfectly balanced.”
Hannah raised her palms in the air and stepped back.
With a loud plunk, all three bags hit the floor. Drowning in satchels up to her knees, Mavis shot her a triumphant look. “There. You see.”
Hannah made a noncommittal sound in her throat.
Kicking and muttering and kicking some more, Mavis broke free from the luggage carnage and dropped into the seat next to Hannah.
Mavis’s outrageous outfit brought a smile to Hannah’s lips. The older woman had chosen a purple tunic to wear over her men’s denim pants today. She’d topped off the shocking ensemble with clashing red gloves and a floppy hat that had real flowers pressed along the edges. Real. Dead. Flowers. The pungent odor was astonishing. Astonishingly awful.
Hannah covered her nose and coughed delicately. Although there should have been generous room for both women on the two-passenger seat, Mavis squirmed and burrowed like a prairie dog fighting to get out of a windstorm. She huffed and kicked and hoisted until she eventually situated two of the bags on her left and the largest on her right—which happened to be the side where Hannah sat.
Hannah’s left shoulder was pressed so tightly against the window that her breath fogged up the glass. If she could, she’d move to the empty seats facing them. But those were reserved for Logan Mitchell and Pastor Beau.
Grimacing, Hannah wiped away the condensation on the window and turned her head to study the loot Mavis had deemed appropriate for the short journey. No wonder the deputy had given her such a hard time.
“What do you have in there?” Hannah asked, more amused than miffed.
“Only the necessities, dearie.” Mavis patted the bag she’d positioned on her lap. “Only the necessities.”
Hannah didn’t know any one person with that many necessities. “Such as?”
“Oh, this and that.” She puckered her lips and started whistling a cheerful tune.
Mavis was certainly happy. A little too happy, especially after her heated argument with Logan Mitchell on the platform.
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “This and that wouldn’t include tobacco, now, would it? Because I promised Laney and Katherine you wouldn’t smoke while in my care.”
“Your care?” Mavis snorted at her. “I’m the chaperone of you, missy, not the other way around.”
Hannah had her doubts. In fact, she knew exactly how sneaky Mavis could be when in need of a smoke. Hannah and Katherine had caught her three separate times with a homemade cigarette in her hand. Hannah made a mental note to keep a close watch on Miss Mavis Tierney. Age indeterminate. Sneakiness a definite.
As people began filing into the compartment, Hannah lifted her gaze in time to catch the rest of their party entering the railcar. Moving with masculine grace, the reverend came into view first. His shoulders were set. His jaw tight. His expression unreadable. Something, or someone, had obviously upset him.
Hannah suspected that certain someone was Deputy Mitchell, especially since the young man lagged a good three feet behind the reverend, dragging his feet and looking like one of the orphans after a good scolding.
The moment the reverend stopped beside Mavis, he lifted an ironic eyebrow at the booty jacketing every available piece of space on their seat and laps.
Hannah shrugged her shoulders in a helpless gesture.
Shaking his head, the reverend tossed a book on the seat across from her and moved to allow a passenger to pass him on the other side of the aisle. “I need to speak to the conductor.”
But before he left, Hannah thought she heard him whisper to Logan, “Behave.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Frowning, Logan plopped into the seat across from Mavis. He glared at the older woman, looking as though he was daring her to say something that would require a nasty response from him.
“Good morning, Deputy Mitchell,” Mavis said in a singsong voice that brought to mind pure sugar. Dripping molasses.
Logan’s gaze settled on the duffel bags, and his lips curled into a sneer. “What did you pack in there, old woman, your entire wardrobe?”
Leave it to Mavis to notice the offensive name and nothing else.
“Hey! You call me old woman again—” she shook her finger at him “—and I’ll tan your hide.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Mavis started to rise. Hannah stopped her with an arm across the bag cradled in her lap.
“What is it with you two?” she asked. “You’ve been at each other since we left Charity House. One might start to think you both just turned four years old.”
As if to prove her right, Mavis snorted. Logan responded in kind. And then both crossed their arms over their chests and began to pout. Well, Mavis pouted. Logan sulked. If Hannah didn’t know how worried both were about Megan, she’d say more. Instead, she left them to their silence.
But when Logan stretched his legs in front of him, and Mavis kicked his foot in response, Hannah rose. “Oh, honestly, switch seats with me, Mavis.”
“I think that’s a grand idea,” Beau said, returning to their happy little group just as Mavis started to argue over the suggestion.
Clamping her mouth shut, the older woman glowered.
Beau regarded her with a patient, albeit unbending, expression.
“Fine,” Mavis huffed. “I’ll move.”
After a round of dodging bags and Mavis rearranging positions—four times—and Logan’s refusal to move his feet—all four times—they eventually exchanged seats.
Just to be contrary, the moment Hannah sat across from Logan he gave Mavis an innocent smile and then made a grand show of moving his feet back to his side of the compartment.
Hannah had no idea what had caused such animosity between the two, but she was losing her patience with them both.
“This certainly promises to be an interesting trip,” she said w
ith a perfect mixture of sarcasm and distress.
“It does at that.” To punctuate his remark, Beau performed an exaggerated wink in her direction.
The gesture had O’Toole written all over it, but there was a special flair in Beau’s delivery that set him apart from the rest of his siblings—one in particular came to mind.
“We won’t arrive in Cheyenne until tomorrow morning,” Beau said to the group in general, but his eyes never left Hannah’s.
Her heart did a soft flip in her chest then meandered into a rhythmic tap, tap against her ribs. Slow. Steady. Agonizing.
“The dining car isn’t due to open for several more hours,” he continued. “I suggest we try to get some sleep before then.”
“Right.” Logan shot a pointed glare at each of Mavis’s three satchels. “I’m confident that’ll happen with all this room at our feet.”
Normally, Hannah would have been amused by the deputy’s sarcastic quip, but her mind chose that moment to focus on the life-altering nature of this journey. Soon, her business with Rachel would be complete.
And then what?
Pain, hope, dread, fury—all four slammed into her, blinding her, making her dizzy and warning her that once she faced Rachel, none of them would go on as before. Not Hannah. Not Rachel. Not Tyler. Not even Beau.
The thought left her trembling.
As dusk settled over the land, Beau looked out the window and smiled in satisfaction. God’s handiwork was evident everywhere—in the steep incline of crumbling rock and the glorious pine trees that peppered the mighty slopes.
Beau wasn’t surprised he was moved by the obvious manifestation of God’s majesty. He was surprised by the depth of his reaction.
He’d been ministering in Colorado for years now, and he never grew tired of the rugged territory. He felt at home here, as he’d never felt in London, Paris or New York. He wanted to spend the rest of his life serving the people bold enough to settle this harsh part of the world. He wanted—
A loud snort followed by an equally loud moan jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned toward the noise. Smiled.
Mavis Tierney, bless her ornery soul, had set into snoring with remarkable gusto. The woman was well past her prime but she had a passion for living—and, apparently, sleeping—that most people half her age would never achieve.
Logan had long since left for the dining car, leaving Beau alone on his side of their tiny area. He stretched his arms overhead, careful not to disturb either woman across from him.
While Mavis slept, Hannah sat quietly reading her Bible. With her head bent over the book, she was oblivious to his scrutiny. He took his time watching her, trying to pinpoint precisely when he’d stopped considering her an adversary and more a partner in this fiasco he liked to call “Not My Brother’s Keeper.”
Today, she wore a soft pink dress with darker rose adornments. In the dull light of dusk, she looked feminine, fragile. She made a man want to protect her.
Beau felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to grind his teeth together. He could not allow himself to fall for Hannah Southerland. He ignored the whisper in his mind that said, Too late.
He gave his head a brief shake and swallowed, suddenly feeling as though he was choking. The woman represented everything he didn’t—couldn’t—want in a wife. Not that she’d applied for the position. But Beau couldn’t get the notion out of his mind that she was the one he’d been waiting for God to bring to him.
Which was absurd.
Surely, God had led Hannah Southerland into his life merely to help prevent a tragedy in their respective families and for no other reason. Especially when Beau needed a less conspicuous woman to help minimize his own penchant for the outrageous. His preaching spoke of a radical acceptance of sinners. Not radical by Jesus’ standards, but certainly radical by the Association’s standards.
The West was still untamed. He’d learned the hard way that the people settling in the frontier towns wanted safety. They wanted comfort in rules. He would win their trust first. Only then would he challenge them to look beyond the law—to the compassion Jesus required in all His followers. He would never win the necessary respect with a flamboyant woman like Hannah Southerland by his side.
Look past the exterior, Beau. Look to her heart. She accepts the unacceptable.
The thought brought him up short. Was he once again judging her unfairly? Hadn’t she stepped into Charity House and won over the adults and children alike?
And who said she even wanted to consider becoming his wife?
Confusion made his head spin. Frustration pulled sweat onto his brow. Regardless of how he felt about her, at first or now, he should have told her about his association with her father long before now.
As though she sensed his eyes on her, Miss Southerland looked up from her Bible.
“Miss Southerland, may I call you Hannah?”
She leaned back, cocked her head and then smiled. “I suppose it makes sense at this point in our acquaintance.”
“I have something to tell you,” he said, pushing slightly forward in his seat. Now that he’d made up his mind to confess the truth, he wanted this business done.
She simply stared at him, unblinking.
He stared back for only a split second. “Your father holds my future in his hands.”
She stared at him some more.
He continued to hold her gaze, his pulse raging loudly in his ears and his shoulders tightening in a spot just below his neck. “Well, not completely,” he corrected. “But he could.”
“Go on.” She eyed him with the same wary look in her eyes she’d had at their first meeting.
However tight his shoulders were now, he continued to gaze at her directly. “I have been given the opportunity to plant a new church in Greeley, Colorado. The Rocky Mountain Association of Churches is sponsoring my efforts.”
Her eyes widened. “My father was the chairman of the Association.”
“Still is.”
“I see.” She looked flustered and irritated and completely disappointed in him.
A little finger of panic curled in his chest. “You misunderstand. I’m not on this journey to please your father. I’m here because it’s the right thing to do. Your sister must be found and brought back home.”
It was the surprise in her eyes, surrounded by a note of genuine concern and understanding, that gave him hope she believed him.
“What if Rachel refuses to return with us and my father blames you for your part? Could he take away your church?”
Tension the size of a railroad tie roped around his chest like an iron band. But at this point Beau owed her the complete truth. “Yes.”
Dread leaped into her eyes. “Then you can’t—”
“Yes, I can.” He reached out and touched her hand. “Like I said before, going after your sister is the right thing to do.”
“Oh, Beau. I’m so sorry.”
Still holding his gaze, she turned her wrist until their palms met. He instinctively twined his fingers through hers.
For a moment, sitting like that, with a simple holding of hands, they were a unit.
“Don’t be sorry for me, Hannah. The risk is mine to take. To be quite frank, my brother owes all of us an explanation. It is my duty to make sure he gives us one that will satisfy all the injured parties.”
A look storming with emotion settled into her eyes. Now that they’d come this far, he had a choice to make. He could leave the conversation alone, stop where they were and let everyone settle down. Or he could press the conversation in another, equally volatile direction and be finished with the secrets between them.
Beau chose the harder of two routes. “Tell me about the night you were sent from your father’s home,” he blurted out.
Counting the seconds until she spoke, Beau waited for her to respond. When he made it to ten and she still kept silent, he feared she might ignore his bold request. But she surprised him by pulling her hand free and shutting her Bible with a smooth s
nap. “You’re sure you want to hear this now?”
Beau recognized the bleakness in her eyes, the desire to avoid the conversation. He touched her hand gently. “I do.”
She paused, blinked slowly and then nodded. “I suppose it started when my mother died. Rachel and I were only ten years old at the time. On her deathbed, Mama made me promise to take care of Rachel because she was small for her age, and fragile, much weaker than I ever was.”
Beau couldn’t imagine a more fragile woman than Hannah. With a sudden flash of insight, he wondered if her parents had mistaken her inner strength for physical strength. “And so you did as your mother requested.”
She studied her hands a moment. “At first it was just picking up her chores when Rachel was too ill or too tired to complete them herself.”
Beau shook his head at the notion. She couldn’t be serious. His eyes lingered on her face a moment, and he saw that she was indeed serious.
She cleared her throat. “What started as small chores here and there turned into far more the night Rachel ran off after she and I had a fight over a boy.” Her eyes became haunted. “It was a stupid argument, and I refused to go after her. Rachel lost her way that night. When she was eventually found the next morning, she had caught a bad cold and suffered permanent hearing loss in one ear.”
“You blame yourself.” A lump, hot and thick, stuck in Beau’s throat at the realization.
She dropped her gaze to her hands again. “I should have gone after her.”
“It wasn’t your fault she ran off and got lost.”
“Wasn’t it?” she whispered.
Troubled by the stark guilt he heard in her voice, Beau opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “I tried to make it up to her. And so I began taking the blame for bigger transgressions.”
He didn’t want to ask. How could he not ask? “Such as?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “If Rachel broke a valuable item, I told our father I did it. If she said something mean to make a kid cry, I confessed I said it.”
Beau could see the hurt Hannah was trying to hide. It was in the slump in her shoulders, in the shake of her voice. “How could he not know it wasn’t always you? No child is all good or all bad. Surely your father could see the truth.”