“Yes, you are my son, Joel. Although I know you haven’t always felt you belonged in this family. It didn’t come as easily for you as it did for Lily and Solace,” Michael said. His voice was low, more cautious than usual. He took a step toward the boy, his arms open.
Joel backed up, still gripping the pitchfork. “You talk like my mother was a whore!”
Billy let his breath out slowly. Should he be concerned about the bile rising in that boy while Joel held a potential weapon?
Michael stood his ground. He let out a weary sigh and said, “Better not go calling any woman by that name unless you know what it means, young man.”
“She had a lot of men comin’ and goin’—that much I recall! You were only one of ’em, and—”
“And I knew my carelessness helped set your mother on that path. Just like I knew you were mine, the first time I saw you.” Malloy seemed to age in the dim light inside the barn, but he went on, quietly resolute. “That’s why, when she moved to Abilene, I often gave her money to care for you and—”
“You coulda married her! Insteada Mercy!”
“I can see why you’d think that,” the man went on in a tight voice. “But God had already led me to help the Monroe family, and—”
“Let’s leave God outta this!” Joel blurted. “He wasn’t there to save my ma, was he?”
Billy sucked in his breath and stepped forward. “You mind your mouth, mister! I wasn’t there to see how it happened, but those men who were shootin’ weren’t listenin’ to what God wanted! They were fightin’ mad, and stupid enough to draw—”
“And your mother stepped outside right then, holding you tightly by the hand, because you could squirm away and escape faster than anybody I ever knew.”
Malloy sagged. A tear ran down his cheek. “When you caught sight of me, you hollered ‘Papa!’ and bolted across the street—and your mother, naturally, followed you. I suspect you startled a couple of those men, and their guns went off. Your ma was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Joel. Nobody’s sorrier about that than I am.”
The boy’s face remained a mask of anger. “You coulda stopped ’em! You coulda hollered at ’em to—”
“I walked into that situation at the same time your mother did, Joel. I was trying not to attract your attention, knowing how you’d—”
“So you’re sayin’ it’s all my fault? Hell, I was only—”
Billy shot forward at the same time Michael did. Somehow he yanked the pitchfork from Joel’s hands while Malloy scooped the kid up as if he was going to give his backside the blistering it deserved.
But Joel had never been one to accept punishment, and when he kicked and swatted at his father’s face, Malloy struggled to keep hold of him. He wasn’t a large man, but he was deceptively powerful—and Billy couldn’t recall ever seeing Michael this wound up. With a quick pivot, he tossed Joel—a skinny bundle of flying arms and legs—onto a hay pile, and then landed on him to pin his limbs down.
Malloy was panting, struggling to maintain control of the fury that had festered in his son’s mind a long, long time. When he leaned into the boy, Billy recognized his frustration and fear and—
A love so fierce he could hardly stand to watch. Michael swallowed hard, holding his emotions in check as he searched for the right words.
Billy wondered if there were any. He stood by, feeling helpless, yet sensing he might need to step in again.
“Don’t—you—ever doubt that your mother was doing the best she could, and that she was keeping you alive when she died,” Malloy rasped. “I won’t hear of you disrespecting her. You understand me, son?”
Joel nodded, wide-eyed. He looked as pale as the hay.
“And while we’re at it, I’ll remind you that in this house, we do not ‘leave God outta this’—or otherwise go on like He doesn’t know what He’s doing,” Michael continued.
It hurt Billy to listen to this. He himself had provoked Michael’s lectures over the years, but he’d never been one to challenge authority, let alone question God!
Malloy let go of his son and struggled to stand up. “I’m sorry our discussion went in this direction, Joel. You have every right to ask about your mother, and to know how you came to be a part of this family.
“And I can understand that you’ll challenge me from time to time—and maybe you won’t like me much,” he went on, wiping sweat from his brow. “One of these days you’ll be too big to take a switch to. You’ll make your own decisions—make your own way in the world. But you’ll never outgrow your need for love and your family. Just like your family—and I, as your father—will never stop loving you, Joel. Do you understand that?”
“Y-yessir.”
“Do you believe it—that I love you?”
A long moment went by before Joel nodded.
Michael’s sigh filled the silent barn. He cleared his throat, casting a glance at Billy.
“Yessir, I believe it, too,” Billy murmured. It wasn’t what Malloy expected of him, but he said it as much for the man’s benefit as the boy’s. “Nobody could love his children more than you do, Mike. If anybody could make the hard parts of life any easier, you’d be doin’ it.”
Those hound dog eyes flickered with gratitude. “Guess we’d better leave the rest of these chores and get dressed for church,” he said quietly. “If anybody’s standing in the need of prayer right now, it’s me.”
Chapter Nineteen
As though the whole family had witnessed the squabble between Joel and his father—and because they were skipping the picnic to meet with one of their buyers—the ride to church was unusually quiet. Joel sulked between Asa and Temple, while at the end of the pew, Michael wore a strained expression Billy hadn’t seen since—well, since his sister Christine had run off, in defiance of the Malloys’ faith and family values.
“What on earth happened?” Eve whispered, keeping her voice beneath the organ’s prelude.
Billy wiggled his finger at Olivia, who was cradled in her mama’s arms, looking cherubic in a sky blue dress Solace had long since outgrown. “Michael and Joel got into it while we were chorin’ this mornin’. Things went farther than either of ’em figured on.”
“They came to blows?”
“Close enough. Michael had some tricky back-trackin’ to do, when Joel challenged him about his real mother.” His heart rose into his throat when the baby gripped his finger and focused those Bristol blue eyes on him. “Lucy Greene’s parents sent her away when they realized she was carryin’. Turns out it was Michael’s baby—”
“No!”
“—and when she showed up in Abilene, he felt responsible for her, even though Mercy was the woman he was meant to marry.” Billy cleared his throat, aware that on the other side of him, Lily and Grace were listening closely to the details of their daddy’s bad mood.
“And she died? How awful.”
“Walked into crossfire outside a saloon, when Joel broke away from her,” he replied with a sad smile. “Which explains why he’s never felt at home with the rest of us. No easy way to tell a kid his mama was a prostitute, gettin’ by the only way she knew how.”
Eve rocked Olivia more intently, looking away as this story soaked in. Fear furrowed between her forest-green eyes, tightening a face that had looked pretty and carefree a moment before.
“Before that misunderstandin’, Michael told me how glad they were to be helpin’ you with the baby,” he said gently. “So don’t compare yourself to Joel’s mama, worryin’ you’ll suffer the same fate, honey. Nobody’s gonna let that happen. Even if you don’t move back with your mother.”
“I hope she stays with us!” Lily said in a loud whisper. She leaned across Billy to tickle the sole of Olivia’s tiny foot.
“Me, too!” Grace chimed in.
Temple shushed them as the preacher stood up to start the service.
Although Reverend Larsen’s sermon was about Jonah, who ran from the Lord’s assignment and got swallowed by a giant fish so he
’d see things God’s way, Billy’s mind wandered. He loved peeking at Olivia as she dozed on Eve’s shoulder, yet he saw Wesley stamped all over her impish face. Couldn’t get those images out of his mind . . . how the shots rang out, and how his brother had snatched that pie from Mama . . . the loose shutter and broken windows; the air of utter desolation in a house that was no longer a home.
Yet when he looked down the row of fresh Sunday dresses to where Joel sat with his arms tightly crossed, he didn’t like what he saw there, either. That stormy face bespoke plans being made, or retorts composed. Ways to lash out because the truth about his mama was too painful to face.
While Joel was exactly the sort of boy today’s sermon was aimed at—those who heard God’s call but ran the other way—he wasn’t listening. Nor would he like it if his father illustrated that same story during devotions tonight, to make the points on a more personal level.
It was a relief to see Mama and Carlton waiting outside by the carriage after church, just off the train. At the sight of Olivia, his mother brightened and reached for the baby. “I just couldn’t stay away from this girl!” she cooed as Eve handed over her granddaughter.
“We certainly hope you’ll join us for dinner,” Mercy said as the kids piled into the carriage.
“Stay as long as you care to!” Michael added, as though he, too, were glad for a distraction from the strain of their morning.
Billy suspected, from the look on Carlton’s face, that this surprise visit was mostly to keep Mama out of harm’s way—or to keep her from going back to talk some sense into Wesley. He was grateful that the Malloys were so generous and accommodating toward his mother, especially now that things were more difficult in Missouri.
When they got to the Triple M, Billy finished the horse chores while Mercy, Asa, and the girls prepared their midday meal. As everyone gathered around the table, now extended with two leaves, Joel refused to sit in his spot between Temple and his daddy, which caused a disruption until Eve graciously traded places with him.
Ordinarily Michael wouldn’t tolerate such a show of defiance—or was it fear? Billy suspected the man didn’t have it in him to challenge his son again. Not when it meant the little girls might ask questions he didn’t want to answer during dinner, in front of guests who weren’t close family.
“Father, we thank You for this summer day and for the bounty You’ve once again spread on our table,” he prayed when all the platters and bowls had been set down. “We ask Your guidance as we face difficult situations. We submit to Your wisdom as You show how we should follow Christ’s example in our thoughts, words and deeds. Bless us all, that we may be reflections of Your love and light. Amen.”
“Amen,” echoed around the table.
As the platter of ham and bowls of boiled cabbage and potatoes were passed, Billy sensed Michael was about to apologize to his boy—so everyone would know Joel was still loved, and so Malloy could get it off his mind. He saw the words forming—and reforming—as the slender man cut his meat and slathered butter on potatoes he’d smashed with his fork. Mike glanced toward Joel time and again, while Lily and Solace were talking about whom they’d seen in church and politely making conversation with Mama and Carlton.
Michael was opening his mouth, ready to pronounce his forgiveness, when someone pounded loudly on the back door. “If you folks are eating dinner, I’ll just wait outside,” a voice called from the kitchen.
Mercy tossed her napkin aside while Michael rose, as well.
“Come in, Obadiah!” he called. “We’ve been expecting you, but we didn’t know when.”
“I’ll set you a place,” Mercy added. “No trouble at all.”
When Eve glanced at the already crowded table and flashed him a questioning look, Billy lifted an eyebrow.
“Happens every time,” he murmured, shifting Solace’s plate and chair closer to his own. “Mr. Jones buys Morgans from us each summer, and he’s smart enough to come for the week’s best meal.”
A portly man swaggered through the doorway to survey the crowded dining room, pausing for those who made him a place. Even in the heat, he wore a fine serge suit with a brocaded vest and a white shirt. A gold watch chain jiggled across his middle, and as Obadiah approached, a diamond stick pin winked at them.
“Afternoon, Mr. Jones!” Billy said. “Got your telegram a few weeks ago—and yesterday’s, too. We’ve raised some mighty fine three- and four-year-olds for you to choose from. Ready to ride, of course.”
“Always a pleasure doin’ business with you folks,” Jones drawled. “Been buyin’ my horses here for what? Nearly nine years now?”
“Yessir, it’s comin’ close to that.”
“And I have yet to take one that didn’t exceed my expectations for strength and performance, as well as trainin’.”
“Thank you, sir,” Billy replied proudly.
The bulky man settled into the chair Asa carried out, squeezing between Michael and Solace, so he could converse with the two men he did his business with. When he’d fluttered his napkin over his lap, he grinned down at the little girl beside him.
“And you’re the one with the pretty name and all that dark, wavy hair,” he said. “Solace, isn’t it?”
“Yessir! But don’t you go takin’ Mr. Lincoln away!” she spouted. “He’s mine, ’cause Billy gave him to me!”
Jones laughed, helping himself to a slab of ham. “You’ve got a fine mount, then, and I wouldn’t dream of takin’ him. Now that little girl down there by your mama—could that possibly be Gracie? Why, she was knee-high to a grasshopper last time I was here!”
The girls giggled, taken in by this guest’s overblown bluster.
“And I remember your sister Lily, too,” he said with a nod, “and your brother Joel’s certainly grown tall, hasn’t he? But I don’t believe I’ve met the pretty lady beside Temple.”
“This is Eve Massena,” Billy jumped in. “She comes from my hometown in Missouri. And that’s her little girl, Olivia, and my mama, Virgilia Harte, and her husband, Carlton. This is Obadiah Jones. He raises cattle in Texas.”
“That’s one of my enterprises, yes.” Jones held a spoonful of potatoes over the bowl to gaze across the table, which brought a flush to Eve’s cheeks. Then he studied the baby, who snoozed in her basket on the floor. “Unless I miss my guess, Miss Eve’s got her eye on you, Billy! And my, oh my—that baby’s your spittin’ image!”
The man’s sanctimonious tone made Billy stiffen, but he knew better than to back down. “Yessir, you’re right. Olivia’s my twin brother’s little girl. We’re proud to have her here, because—as you know—the Malloys love every child who comes their way.”
Jones coughed as though he’d gotten ham caught in his throat. And there was no missing the way Mama challenged him with one arched eyebrow. Nobody speculated about her grandchild!
“Why, you wouldn’t be a-buyin’ them horses from Mr. Billy if these fine folks hadn’t took ’im in when he was just Joel’s age!” Asa pointed out cheerfully. “Ain’t a soul a-sittin’ at this table who don’t owe a mighty huge favor to Mr. Michael and Miss Mercy.”
“Yessir! Amen!” Temple Gates said with a nod.
“Indeed we do,” Eve replied, looking Obadiah straight in the face.
The cattleman blotted his brow with a snowy-white handkerchief. “And I count myself among them, for your hospitality over all these years. If no one else wants that last slice of ham—”
Billy passed him the platter: Jones wasn’t used to being talked to that way by colored folks—or eating at the same table with them—but he knew when he’d been cornered. And Eve was sitting tall; not the least bit cowed by this Texan’s insinuations.
Temple rose then, gracefully stacking the dirty plates and signaling with her eyes that Lily and Solace were to help. “We’ll clear these dishes and be back with pie and coffee,” she said in her melodious voice. “I know you gentlemen want to get down to your business.”
Eve and Mama rose to help, as w
ell, and with the pleasant clatter of plates and bowls filling the room, Billy collected his thoughts. He and Michael had discussed raising the prices on their Morgans this season, for the first time since the Triple M had begun its business. And from all appearances, Jones would have no trouble paying more.
Joel whispered something to Mercy. She felt his forehead and nodded. As he slipped from the room, the sorrel-haired hostess smiled at their guest. “And how are Elizabeth and the children? It seems like a lifetime ago when they were living up the road from us.”
Jones guffawed. “Fine and dandy! Those little towheads who went to Texas with me after their daddy died are grown now. Got families of their own.”
Michael smiled and stood up. “Excuse me, but I see my boy’s not feeling well. You and Billy enjoy your dessert, and I’ll catch up with you by the time you’re ready to go to the stables.”
Billy followed Michael with his gaze—and his heart—but kept up the table talk. He said a quick prayer that father and son would set things right between them before this day was done.
“You musta known Asa was makin’ these pies for today, Mr. Jones,” he teased. Mercy stood at her end of the table, cutting the pie, while Lily and Solace carried the pieces around to everyone.
“And as pretty as this slice of cherry pie, looks,” Jones remarked, “the little lady bringing it to me outshines every star in the sky, doesn’t she? You’ve got the face of an angel, honey.”
Lily’s smile wavered as the big, blustery rancher closed his hand over hers. “Th-thank you, sir,” she murmured. She blinked, and her blond ringlets began to quiver.
Billy almost sprang up to snatch the girl’s hand from Obadiah’s, thinking he must be squeezing awfully hard. Across the table, Temple stiffened, her brown hands gripping the last stack of dinner plates. It wasn’t like Lily to stammer when folks paid her compliments—which happened every time someone saw her.
Jones let her go as though nothing were amiss. He smiled widely as Lily set his plate in front of him. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he crooned. “You’ll make somebody a fine little wife someday.”
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