Woodland Christmas

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  Seething, she pushed with every ounce of strength in her body and freed herself from Caleb’s grasp. She backed toward the door, looking at both Caleb and Mrs. Kelley. Numerous questions raced through her mind. Only one escaped. “How could you?”

  She ran down the steps and out the front door. Her stomach demanded relief and emptied itself at the first tree. Leaden footsteps carried her to the ladies’ quarters. Betrayal carried her heart to desolation.

  Chapter 11

  Caleb started after Emma. His mother stepped in front of him. “Don’t go.”

  “What? Why not?” His mother’s face was pale, sad. Worse, guilt hovered in her eyes. “You know what she was talking about?”

  He stood in indecision. Should he stay and finish questioning his mother or should he go after Emma? Knowing she was probably packing to leave, he sidestepped his mother. He had to keep Emma here.

  “Mae.” His father’s weak voice drifted from the bed.

  “Charles.” His mother rushed over and kissed his forehead and each cheek. “Oh, Charles, I thought we’d lost you.”

  His father tried to lift his hand. It fell back to the mattress. As badly as Caleb wanted to question his parents, now wasn’t the time. He stood behind his mother. “Welcome back, Dad. You gave us a scare.”

  “Son.” His throat worked to swallow. “Water.”

  His mother grabbed the glass on the bedside table. She lifted his head and helped him drink. He dropped back to the pillows.

  “What happened?”

  Yet another question that needed to be answered. When did his father get shot? Caleb remembered him being sick and in bed many years ago. Was that when he acquired and recovered from the bullet? Though he wanted to race after Emma, he waited for his mother’s answer.

  Please, God, keep Emma from leaving.

  His mother took his father’s hand in hers. “The doctor removed the bullet from your stomach.”

  Understanding came slowly. He glanced at Caleb then back at his wife. Caleb silently begged them to explain. If they didn’t, he’d demand to know what happened.

  Caleb’s mother leaned forward. “It’s time we tell him, Charles.”

  Suddenly Caleb’s skin prickled. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know their secret.

  Emma dropped onto her bed and pulled her bag and things from the trunk next to her. This time Gabe wouldn’t stop her from leaving. Not bothering to pack carefully, she flung items by the fistful into her bag. When her hand clasped the pistol, she stopped.

  The only reason she carried the weapon was for justice. Her father deserved it, now more than ever. She’d met the people who killed him, lived with them, worked for them, knew them now for who they really were.

  Just as she dropped a veil over her mind for surgeries, a new veil fell. She stood, the gun clasped in both hands, and walked out the door, across the yard, and back into the main house. The steps, now so familiar, brought her slowly to the bedroom. She moved unhindered to the foot of the bed.

  “Emma?”

  Caleb’s voice called to her from a distance. She lifted the pistol and pointed it at Mr. Kelley. “Emma! What are you doing?”

  Caleb took a step toward her. She cocked the hammer. “Stay back. This has to be done.”

  Was that her voice? She turned to Mr. Kelley. She’d thought about this moment for years, yet she still didn’t know what to say … could never quite picture the man’s face until now. There he lay, the murderer she’d despised all these years. All she had to do was pull the trigger. Her finger wouldn’t move.

  “You killed my father.”

  Mrs. Kelley stood. “No, he didn’t.”

  Her daze gave way to anger. “You be quiet. I want him”—she shook the gun at Mr. Kelley—”to admit what he did.”

  “But—”

  “Mae. Quiet.” He touched her hand. “Like you said, it’s time.”

  Mrs. Kelley sat on the side of the bed, still holding her husband’s hand. “You couldn’t do this when he’s stronger?”

  Emma hesitated. Then she pictured her father crumpling after the gunshot. “No.” Caleb moved toward her. She took a step back and swung the barrel at him. “I mean it, Caleb. This is going to happen. He’s going to confess … now.”

  Caleb shook his head, but she ignored him. She couldn’t trust him. He knew about the gunfight. She motioned to Mr. Kelley. “Tell me.”

  He struggled to lift his head. “It was an accident.”

  She waved the gun. “Try again.”

  “None of it was supposed to happen. I promise.” He coughed and took a drink from the glass his wife offered. “Do you know about the money?”

  She frowned. “Only what my mother wrote in her diary. She wrote that the war was over but skirmishes continued long afterward. You found a chest of money after one of those fights.” He nodded. “She also said she didn’t trust you or Norris. She was afraid of you both. With good reason.”

  “She shouldn’t have been afraid of me. Your father and I were friends.” He raised his hand when she tried to challenge his comment. “We thought it best to hide the money until we were certain no one could tie us to it. We put the money in a bank in Irontree. We didn’t trust Norris, so we only put our names on the account. We figured if Norris had his name on the account, he’d go back and get it all for himself.”

  “Which is what you did.”

  “No. I did get the money out, but I waited until the day we decided on. I had every intention of finding your father before he went to the bank.”

  This was the part Emma knew very little about. From the time her father left her on the wagon to the time she saw him killed, what she knew she’d put together over the years by sheer guesswork. Her mother’s diary stated they were to meet at the bank on a certain day and time, then split the money evenly. By all appearances, Mr. Kelley ended up with all the money. His plan worked.

  “Keep going.”

  He took a deep, shaky breath. She wavered. Could she live with herself if he died because of her?

  “As you probably guessed, I missed your father at the bank. He found me holding the bag of money at the edge of town and accused me of betraying our friendship.”

  Emma tossed a scornful look at Caleb. She knew that feeling all too well.

  “His hand was on his gun. Before I could explain, Norris showed up and accused us of stealing his share of the money.”

  “Norris was there?” She didn’t remember seeing him, but everything had happened so fast.

  Mr. Kelley nodded. “He was standing between two buildings, closer to me than your father. He demanded I throw him the money bag, that he would split the money himself. I told him no and he pulled out his gun”—he pointed a trembling finger at Emma—”about the same time you came around the corner of the building behind your father.”

  She swallowed, trying to replay the memory she’d repeated in her dreams too many times. “But I saw the gun already in your hand when I rounded the corner.”

  “Right. I figured between your father and me, we could get the best of Norris.” His eyes watered. He blinked several times. “But then you screamed. I heard a gunshot and fired without thinking.” A tear ran down his cheek. “Your father shot Norris. Somehow Norris shot both me and your father, and”—he looked her in the eyes then turned away—”I shot you.” He shook his head, more tears falling. “I’m so sorry.”

  Emma’s heart thumped a slow, hard beat. Time stalled as her mind went back to that horrible day. She rounded the corner, saw Mr. Kelley holding a gun and also one in her father’s hand. Her scream reverberated through her memory, loud and piercing. In the same instant, shots were fired and her father fell.

  “It was my scream.” She choked on a sob. “My scream killed my father.”

  Releasing the hammer, she lowered the pistol. She deserved the bullet, not Mr. Kelley. If she were honest, she’d known it all along. Unable to accept the blame, she had poured all her guilt and anger on someone else.

  The gu
n slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor as she ran from the room.

  Chapter 12

  The fact that his parents had lied to him, kept so much hidden all these years, scrambled Caleb’s emotions into a lump of painful disbelief. The memory of racing out of a town when he was young came back. Gunshots, a man and girl lying on the ground, his parents not stopping to help. His father deathly sick for months. He stared at them now. Words wouldn’t come. He needed time. Hearing the front door slam jolted him. Emma!

  He ran after her. Even his mother’s call didn’t stop him. Confronting his parents could wait. Keeping Emma from leaving couldn’t.

  Sobbing carried from Skeeter’s stall. He found the mule scooting along the wall every time Emma tried to put the saddle on his back.

  He stepped inside the pen. “Emma.”

  She held the saddle between them. “I’m leaving.”

  If only he could hold her, kiss away her tears. “Not like this. Please, Em.”

  Gabe arrived at the stall door. Emma slumped, defeat in her eyes. She let Caleb take the saddle and followed Gabe across the passageway. She dropped to the bench like her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer. Gabe sat beside her.

  “What’s wrong, little one?”

  Caleb placed the saddle on the rack and joined them. Emma’s tears ran unheeded. She dropped her face into her hands.

  “I killed my father.”

  Gabe’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  Caleb shook his head, his heart aching for her obvious pain. “No, she didn’t.”

  She looked at him. “I didn’t pull the trigger, but I killed him all the same.”

  “You were a little girl, Em, scared for your father.”

  “My scream made them shoot.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Your father said as much.”

  Caleb moved to sit next to Emma. She stood. He hated feeling helpless. “It was all an accident.” She peered into his eyes. “You knew.”

  “No.”

  “You recognized my name and, out of guilt, offered me a job.”

  He stepped toward her. She moved back. “That’s not true. I didn’t know.” How could he make her believe him? “I love you, Em—”

  She shook her head and turned her back.

  Gabe stood. “Let me talk to her.”

  His whispered voice was full of emotion. Maybe he could help. He’d stopped her from leaving once before.

  Caleb nodded. “Don’t let her leave, Gabe. Come find me if she tries.”

  With each step, Caleb wished he could stay, but the need to confront his parents beckoned him. They’d destroyed lives. How had they lived with themselves all these years? Now that he knew, how could he live with them?

  Emma lifted her chin. “I can’t stay, Gabe, so don’t try making me.”

  He sat on the bench and patted the spot next to him. “Convince me.”

  She sighed. There’d be no leaving without talking. She dropped beside him and stared at her hands. Self-loathing had a strong hold of her heart. A peaceful life was now an unreachable dream.

  “You don’t know what I’ve done.”

  “Caleb said you didn’t do it.”

  She shook her head. “Not that.” Her throat refused to swallow. “I pointed my gun at Mr. Kelley. I wanted to kill him.” She brushed at the tears filling her eyes. “I couldn’t handle taking the blame for my father’s death, so I poured all my guilt and anger at the only other man I could accuse.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  She nodded. “I think I did. I just refused to let myself remember that part.”

  Gabe took a deep breath. “So you’ve run all these years, and now you want to keep running.” He patted her hand. “It won’t work, Emma. You have to face this.”

  She didn’t bother arguing. He was right, but she couldn’t go back in that house. She’d avoided the truth all these years. Would it be so bad to continue?

  Gabe squeezed her hand. “God brought you here, Emma. Don’t you see that? He knows it’s time for this story to have an ending so a new one can begin. He put you on the same road at the same time as Caleb and me. He even used Skeeter to make sure you stayed.”

  Emma choked on her laugh. She’d had the same thought. But it didn’t matter. She’d have to live with the truth of her guilt.

  Gabe leaned away and reached into his pocket. When he pulled out his hand, a small chain hung from his fingers. A cradle dangled from one end and a cross from the other.

  “I made this to remind me that God has a plan for each of us. We all have a beginning and an end. Each link in between is a phase of our life.” He held out the chain. “Even Christ’s life had a plan, a plan He never broke. His chain is complete.” He looked her in the eyes. “You have a chain, too. Near as I can see, going back and facing the Kelley family to clear all this up is one of the links. You sure you want to break your chain by running away?”

  “How can I be sure this is one of the links?”

  He smiled but his eyes were sad. “Chains get intertwined with those of others. Yours linked with this family the day your father met Mr. Kelley. God had a purpose for you being here, Emma. You were here when Caleb’s workman needed help, and you were here when Mr. Kelley fell sick.” He leaned forward and peered into her eyes. “Near as I can tell, you’re still needed here. Mr. Kelley isn’t well yet and Caleb is hurting.”

  Gabe stood and held out his hand to help her up. “If you feel you have to leave, I won’t stop you. But I do ask that you pray about your decision first. A broken chain can be fixed, but it’ll always be weaker than before. I’d like to see your chain remain complete.”

  He shuffled to the far corner of the barn without looking back. His sadness made her wonder if he felt his chain had been broken. She didn’t want to feel that way when she reached his age.

  As she watched him smooth the wood for the bedstead, Emma realized that even a rough log could become something beautiful but must first endure some painful shaving and carving. Gabe’s wonderful chains were just a piece of wood before he applied his knife.

  For years, she’d considered herself ugly and useless. Maybe she, in the care of God’s loving, sculpting hands, could one day be a beautiful, useful servant. With a prayer in her heart, Emma wandered back to the house, fearing the cuts that were still needed to shape her.

  Chapter 13

  You lied to me.” Caleb faced his mother in the guest room, needing answers to all his questions. He loved his parents dearly, but he’d never been so hurt.

  Faceless memories trickled through his mind. “I remember seeing a man and girl on the ground.” He moved closer to his mother. “And I remember Dad being sick for a long time. He was recovering from a gunshot, wasn’t he? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were young, Caleb. I didn’t want to scare you.”

  He snorted and shook his head. She still hid behind lies. “When I introduced Emma to you, did you recognize her name?”

  She looked down. “Yes.”

  At least she didn’t lie about everything. “So you gave her awful jobs to get her to leave instead of taking the opportunity to make it right.”

  Her head hung lower. “Yes.”

  She sounded remorseful, but one more question remained. “Everything Dad told Emma about that day, was it true?”

  She looked up. “It was an accident, Caleb. Your father never meant for Joe to die.”

  “But he meant to get all the money?”

  “No. At least I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  Her eyes pleaded with him. “Talk to your father when he’s well, Caleb.”

  “You tell me. You’re apparently of the same mind.” She took a deep breath. “We planned to find out if the girl lived so we could give her half the money.”

  Caleb snorted. “Do you ever get tired of lying, Mother?” “It’s true. That was our plan.” “So what happened?”

  She shrugged, even
looked a bit ashamed. “We got busy with the sawmill business and it just got easier … not to bother.” He groaned. “Unbelievable.”

  His heart ached for all that Emma had gone through. The fear, the pain, the anger. He couldn’t fault her for pointing a gun at his father.

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. Talk to your father.”

  Anger still reigned inside him. “I’m through talking for a while. I need to think.”

  He walked out, ignoring his mother’s pleading for him to come back.

  The voices of Caleb and his mother drifted through the wall of Mr. Kelley’s bedroom, though Emma couldn’t make out the words. Caleb was angry. That much she could tell. When he stomped away, she fought the urge to go after him. Instead, from the window she watched him ride toward the sawmill.

  He said the words she’d dreamed of hearing. He loved her. Were the feelings sincere? Doubts and questions clamored in her mind and warred with her own feelings.

  She’d started falling for Caleb almost from the moment she met him. The time they’d spent together over the last two months had made her love bloom. But now that she knew who he was, who his parents were, how could she trust him? He claimed he knew nothing about what had happened, but could she believe him? And if he did know, could she get past the deception and love him without reservation? Too many ifs.

  Mr. Kelley stirred. She moved to the bed and checked his pulse and temperature. Though he was still warm, the fever had broken. She’d be able to leave with a clear conscience in the next few days. As she stared at his face, she realized she no longer hated him, though a strange longing still remained. Would that make leaving easier or more difficult?

  She returned to the window and took in the view. She’d come to love this place, felt at home here even though the Kelleys had tried to keep that from happening. The tall pines looked like protective sentries, regal in their dark green garb.

  Gabe raced across the clearing in a small wagon. He yanked back on the reins in front of the house. His haste made her skin prickle. A feeling of dread twisted through her.