But For Grace (HEARTSONG PRESENTS - HISTORICAL)

by Tracey V. Bateman

  Sickened by surfacing images long stored in the recesses of her memory, Star nodded. She knew of the dangerous measures the girls often took to lose their babies. She thanked God her own mother hadn’t done that. “It’s all right, go on.”

  “She kept telling me she was leaving as soon as the baby was born. I prayed. Oh, how I prayed she would change her mind. By that time, my illusions were over. I knew she’d never cared about me, and I certainly didn’t find much to love about her. We had the baby to think of, and I couldn’t bear the thought of Aimee growing up without a ma. I honestly believed motherhood might change Sarah. Or maybe I just hoped.”

  “She died giving birth to Aimee?” she asked softly, knowing he was emotionally drained from the discourse, but that he needed to end the tale.

  He nodded.

  Star pressed her hand against his cheek. “Michael, I understand why you feel as you do, but you have to understand that Sarah was only one hurting soul. There are so many hurting people in this world—people you wouldn’t consider suitable company. But all of them need the love of Jesus. We can’t turn our backs and treat them as though they have no value, as though association with them might stain us. That’s not the way Jesus treated people while He walked the earth. We’re His hands, His voice. I was reading a story in the Bible about a woman Jesus met at a well. She had been married many times and was living in sin with a man by the time she encountered Jesus. He didn’t use her past against her, Michael. He forgave her. He offered her a drink from the well of life.”

  “What about the ones who won’t accept what Jesus offers?”

  “Not all will accept, but it’s worth the risk of showing you care, even if you can only save one.”

  “I couldn’t save Sarah. She died without ever seeing our daughter or accepting Christ.”

  “So the reason you didn’t like me wearing her things wasn’t because you couldn’t bear to see another woman in the clothes of the woman you loved?”

  “No,” he answered abruptly. His gaze met hers, but he didn’t speak.

  Hit by realization, Star gasped. “Wearing her tight, low-cut gown made me look like her?”

  “Something like that.” He averted his gaze.

  “You thought I looked too much like a saloon girl, and it made you think I’m like her on the inside. Oh, Michael, you’ve known the Lord all of your life. When will you understand that it’s not what a person wears or how they look that matters to God? I may not have been a Christian as long as you have, Michael, but I’ve discovered that God looks on the heart. Just because I wore her clothes doesn’t make me like Sarah.”

  “I know that now. But I have to be careful. I don’t want Aimee hurt. I have to make certain the woman I invite into our lives is someone respectable, someone who won’t shame us.”

  “Is that what you’re afraid I’ll do?”

  The look he gave her melted her defenses. His lips curved into a hint of a smile, then he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “I’m falling in love with you.”

  The joy Star should have felt at his revelation was sucked from her by his next words. “But I fell in love with Sarah. I believed everything she told me about wanting to change, and I married her. A woman like that! I still can’t believe it. Not that I regret having Aimee, but how could I have been so foolish?”

  He was afraid she was like Sarah—and she might have been, if Luke had had his way. Star shuddered. Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, she glanced down. Michael would never accept where she’d come from. She made a decision at the same moment she stood. “Michael, thank you for telling me about Sarah. It did help me to understand your reaction tonight. I–I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to continue courting.”

  “Why?” Michael stood and grasped her arm. “Star, I care about you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  Tears stung her eyes and her chin quivered. “There is something you don’t know about me. Something I don’t believe you could accept.”

  “What?” He tightened his hold on her arms. “Tell me who you were before you came to live with us at the farm. Who is your family? You mentioned your mother passed on, but what about your pa? Brothers and sisters? Grandparents?”

  Star hesitated a minute and honestly considered it. She even imagined herself pouring it all out to him. All about Mama, Samson and Lila, about Luke. But when one person knew a secret, somehow others learned of it. She knew Michael wouldn’t purposely gossip, but things like that had a way of spreading. She couldn’t bear the thought of people looking upon her with disdain, folks never looking her in the eye, ladies grabbing their children and crossing the street rather than being forced to share a boardwalk with her.

  “Please, Michael. Just leave it alone and respect my decision. As I’ve said before, there are things you don’t know about me. Things that would change how you feel.”

  “Nothing would do that.”

  He tried to pull her to him, but she jerked away and hurriedly opened the door. “Don’t come calling. I won’t see you.”

  “Wait,” he said just before she could close the door. “I know about Luke.”

  Star’s heart nearly stopped. “You do?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

  “Clem told me that you stole some money. I was waiting for you to confess it to me, but I understand if you can’t. The important thing is that you have asked God for forgiveness. We can make things right with your guardian later.”

  “With my what?” Michael believed her to be a thief? Despair congealed with indignation, and she shook her head. “Michael, just forget about it. You don’t know what you think you know.” The last thing she saw when she shut the door was his look of utter disbelief.

  She didn’t blame him. She was finding it difficult to wrap her mind around tonight’s turn of events as well.

  Tears stung her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.

  She trudged up the steps to the room she shared with Rosemary. After changing into her nightgown, she picked up her Bible, hoping to find answers or at least comfort. But the words ran together, and nothing penetrated her aching heart. Finally, she gathered a long breath and set the book on the table. Snuggling under the covers, she stared at the ceiling as though the wood slats above her might bring answers. She couldn’t quite bring herself to reach beyond the ceiling in her heart, knowing she should have been honest in the beginning and trusted God with the results. In the stillness of the night, she wept in surrender to God. Tomorrow, after church, she would pull Michael aside and tell him the truth about her upbringing. He would either understand or he wouldn’t, but at least she would no longer be living a lie.

  Thirteen

  An icy wind whipped around Michael, and he urged his horse to a trot. He pulled his collar higher and tucked in his chin to protect himself from the blast. The ride from Oregon City didn’t take as long on horseback as it did in a wagon laden with supplies, but it was still a good three-hour ride, and he hoped to be home before the snow got too deep. But before he could head back to the farm, he had to do what he came to do.

  Ma had balked at his intention to travel to Oregon City on the Lord’s Day, but Michael couldn’t wait to settle things with Star’s guardian. He didn’t know for sure whom he was even looking for, but decided to keep an eye out for Clem. The man was pretty unique in appearance and might be easily identified if he asked around. So far, Michael had been riding through the streets and no one he asked knew the man—or if they did, they weren’t forthcoming with the information.

  There are things you don’t know about me. Things that would change how you feel. After Star’s tearful words last night, he’d decided to pay the man the money she took so she could be out from under the burden of guilt. When he returned home, he intended to ask her to be his wife.

  The streets were nearly empty, so there weren’t many people to talk to. Finally, he saw a couple of men staggering out of a saloon at the edge of town. Deciding to give his search one last try
, he approached the men.

  “Excuse me!” he called. They stopped and waited while he dismounted and tethered his horse to the hitching post.

  “Whaddaya want, Mister?” one of the men asked, slurring his words.

  Michael stepped onto the boardwalk. “I’m looking for a man named Clem. Big fella with a black moustache and a scar running down his cheek. Ever seen him?”

  “Maybe. What’s it worth to you?”

  Disgusted, Michael fished a couple of coins out of his pocket and handed them over. “Now, do you know Clem or not?”

  “Yeah, works for Luke.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  The man who’d taken the money jerked his thumb toward the saloon. “At Luke’s. Where else?”

  Michael’s stomach tightened as he lifted his head and read the sign. Luke’s Saloon. Star’s guardian owned a saloon? Without another look at the two drunks who’d sold him the information he was no longer sure he even wanted, he walked to the saloon. It went against everything inside of him to step through those swinging doors. A few men glanced up from a card game in the corner of the room, then ignored him. Cautiously, he stepped up to the counter.

  “What can I get for you, Mister?” the bartender asked. His burly chest stuck out; and even at Michael’s height, he was forced to lift his chin in order to meet the man’s gaze.

  “I’m looking for a man named Luke. I think he owns this place.”

  “What do you want with him?”

  “That’s my business.”

  The man’s arm shot out, and he grabbed a fistful of Michael’s shirt before he could evade the attack. “I’m making it my business. No one bothers Luke without a good reason.”

  Michael swallowed hard. He couldn’t very well get into a barroom brawl. Better that he just tell the man what he wanted to know. “Turn me loose, and I’ll tell you.”

  The man let go, giving him a little shove in the process. Michael caught his footing in time to keep from crashing to the ground. He adjusted his shirt and cleared his throat. “I want to discuss a mutual acquaintance with him.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Releasing a heavy sigh, Michael leaned in. “A young woman named Star.”

  “Star, you say?” The bartender narrowed his gaze and studied Michael’s face.

  “Yes. Can you keep your voice down?”

  “Stay where you are,” the man commanded. “Luke’s going to want to talk to you.”

  A minute later he returned, accompanied by a painted woman wearing a satin gown, cut high to reveal her thigh and low at the top, leaving little to the imagination. “Follow me,” she purred.

  Michael’s face burned as she led him up the stairs. He kept his gaze fixed on the steps and nearly stumbled when they reached the top. The saloon girl wrapped her fingers around his upper arm. “Careful, Cowboy. Wouldn’t want you to break your handsome neck.” As though he’d been burned, Michael jerked away. “I’m fine,” he said abruptly. “Just take me to Luke.”

  “Well, ain’t you just the charmer?” She let out a laugh and reached out to trace his jaw with a long, red fingernail.

  “Please, Lady, just leave me alone.”

  “Star’s got you all spoken for, eh?”

  “Something like that.”

  Thankfully, he wasn’t forced to carry on any more conversation as she opened a large, ornately carved door at the end of the hall. “Here he is, Luke.” She winked broadly at him and blew him a kiss.

  Michael scowled and crossed the threshold. A handsome man with graying temples stood behind a large desk. He met Michael in the center of the room and extended his hand. “I understand you have some information about one of my girls.”

  Taking the proffered hand, Michael frowned at the reference to Star as one of Luke’s “girls.”

  “Star Campbell. I’m here to pay off her debt to you.”

  The man took a cigar and silently offered one to Michael. Michael waved his refusal. “Have a seat, Mr. . . ?”

  “Riley. Michael Riley.” Michael accepted the wing chair across from Luke. “About Star?”

  “Ahh, yes. Star. How touching she should consider me her guardian.” A puff of smoke found its way to Michael’s senses, nearly choking him.

  “What do you mean? Clem told me you’re her guardian.”

  Luke narrowed his gaze. “Clem?” A look of understanding crossed his dark features. “You must be the man Clem ran into the day Star disappeared.” His voice was colder than the snow outside, but Michael refused to be intimidated.

  “That’s right. I intend to marry her, but first I want to settle what she owes you.”

  Luke released a hoarse laugh that never quite reached his eyes. “As much as I’d love to divest you of your money, Mr. Riley, I’m afraid Star doesn’t owe me a cent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is that I’m not Star’s guardian. I’m her boss. In other words, she works for me. Here.”

  “But then why was Clem. . . ?”

  “Running after her?”

  “Yes.”

  Waving away the question, Luke took another puff of his cigar. “To tell you the truth, Star and I had a misunderstanding, and she ran out before I could explain. I sent Clem to bring her back. Your intervention thwarted his efforts, and I haven’t seen Star since. I miss her, and so do the men who come in here.”

  Michael’s heart plummeted at the inference. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

  Giving a nod of understanding, Luke sighed. “I suppose I can’t blame Star for not wanting to admit to her—er—profession. It looks to me as though she’s duped you and probably your entire town. Am I right?”

  Numb with disappointment, Michael gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

  “Well, if you decide not to marry her, she is welcome back here anytime. The men still ask for her quite frequently. She was a favorite around here. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you why that would be.” His suggestive leer sickened Michael, and he shot to his feet, knowing if he didn’t leave this minute, he’d smash his fist into the suave face.

  “I’m sorry I bothered you,” he said abruptly. “I’ll let myself out.”

  “Remember what I said now. Tell Star we miss her.”

  There are things you don’t know about me. Things that would change how you feel.

  Star’s words took on new meaning. Feeling like an utter fool, Michael walked through the saloon in a haze. He mounted his horse and headed out of town at a full gallop. Now everything made sense. The way she’d defended the saloon girl the night before. What an utter fool he’d been! How had he fallen in love with another loose woman? He laughed at himself. The kiss must have been carefully executed on her part for her to make him believe she’d never been kissed before. Hysterical laughter rose to his throat. Never been kissed! The woman he loved—a prostitute. Laughter gave way to tears and suddenly he pulled his horse to a halt and slid from the saddle and to his knees.

  “God!” he shouted at the snow-laden clouds. “Where are You in all of this? Am I a fool? Did I misunderstand when I believed I was to help Star?” He hung his head and cried until the tears would come no longer. Snow soaked into the bottom half of his trousers as he stayed on his knees. When he finally climbed to his feet, he mounted his horse with a new determination. First thing in the morning, he would confront Star, then he’d inform the folks who thought they could trust her that there was a wolf in their midst.

  She’d regret playing him for a fool.

  ❧

  Monday mornings always depressed Star. After the glory of worship services on Sunday and the restful afternoons spent visiting with Rosemary and Mrs. Barker, the thought of returning to the mundane always left her feeling a bit let down. If Joe had his way, she would work on Sundays; but at the risk of losing the job, she’d absolutely put her foot down from the first day of her employment. To her relief, he’d given in without much of a fight.

  Today, her heart sa
nk even farther into depression as Joe let her into the restaurant at eight o’clock to start baking biscuits to last the day. Michael had been absent from church yesterday. After Miss Hannah had assured her that he wasn’t ill, she remained tight-lipped about where he had gone.

  Star was in no mood for Jane’s stinging insults nor Joe’s grouchy commands. Only a day and a half had passed since she’d seen Michael, and already it seemed as if a decade had gone by. With a sigh, she hung her coat on a hook and grabbed an apron.

  She began pulling ingredients down from the shelf, then glanced about with a frown. “Is Jane ill today?”

  Joe mumbled and pulled out his handkerchief. He blew his nose loudly and stuffed it back. “She’s packin’ her things.”

  “What do you mean?” For the first time, Star realized Joe’s eyes were moist and his nose red. The man had enough heart to cry? “Joe, what’s wrong?”

  Fresh tears assaulted him. “My girl’s leavin’ me.”

  “Why on earth is she doing that?”

  He scowled. “I told her to get out. That’s why.”

  Mouth agape, Star blinked. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would you send her away and then cry about it? What’s happened?”

  “I’m with child.” The inflectionless response came from the kitchen door.

  Joe stiffened and turned away.

  “Are you sure?”

  The girl straightened her shoulders and nodded, her expression haughty.

  “Where’s the baby’s father? Does he know about this?”

  A short, mirthless laugh left Jane’s lips. “I don’t know for sure who the father is.” She glanced at Joe, almost as though the words were meant as poisoned arrows.

  The arrows hit their mark, and Joe slammed a ladle against the stove. He swung about to face his daughter. “How could you shame me this way? How could you shame the memory of your mother?”