“That you be,” Clancy agreed, giving Matt a sad smile.
Jenks clomped out the door, and Jackson followed.
Mr. Harders turned to Matt. His eyes reflected sorrow. “Matt, I wish there was some way—”
Matt shook his head. “Can’t change what’s been done, Mr.
Harders. All we can do is move forward. But if we can get those boys off Jenks’s ranch and give ’em a chance to grow up with a little bit of peace and happiness, it’ll all be worth it.”
Clancy blew out a noisy breath. “Hoo-doggies, Matthew, don’t know how you stood up to that man after what he done, but I gotta tell ya, I’m right proud of ya, son.”
Matt chuckled, rubbing a finger under his nose. “Well, I admit, Clancy, I’m right proud of me, too.” Thank you, Lord, for givin’ me the strength to face my nightmare.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Maelle
Shay’s Ford, Missouri
May, 1903
Maelle banged the hammer two more times, securing the cloth backdrop to the wall. Hopping down from the ladder, she propped the hammer on her shoulder and admired her handiwork. The backdrop painted with a white pillar and shadowy lines to resemble draped linen had always been her favorite of the four Richard had used.
The other three lay, rolled, behind the counter. Eventually she would need to rig a bracket so the backdrops could be changed out easily, but for now she needed the pillared one in place.
Maelle turned a slow circle, examining every detail of the room that now served as her studio. In front of the window, two stuffed chairs flanked a low table that held albums of samples of her work. Across the room, an elbow-high cabinet held her cigar boxes, Richard’s picture albums, and a money box. A door in the corner led to the small room that would serve as her darkroom. Everything was ready. All she needed now was customers.
She was eager to put out the Open For Business sign Jackson had given her, but she had to wait. She wanted her first customers to be a specific bride and groom whose photograph would be taken in front of the pillared backdrop. Only a week until the wedding. She could wait that long.
A smile grew on her lips as she thought about the newly married couple she’d be shooting in front of that backdrop. Her heart tripped happily as she contemplated the ceremony being planned by Isabelle and Aaron. Isabelle had asked her to be her attendant. Her baby sister, all grown up and getting married . . .
Her mind wandered to all the years that were lost to them, but she pushed those thoughts aside. This was not a time for sorrow. It was a time of celebration, of new beginnings—the beginning of her business; the beginning of a relationship with Isabelle; the beginning of Isabelle and Aaron’s life as man and wife; the beginning of the Reginald Standler Home for Orphaned and Destitute Children, where Aaron and Isabelle would serve as caretakers and teachers.
Maelle winged a silent prayer of thanks heavenward for all the wonderful things happening for her, her sister, and the homeless children of Shay’s Ford. Only one small storm cloud hovered on the horizon. Mattie . . . Maelle sat in one of the chairs and peered out at the street. Now that she’d found Molly, the need for Mattie was stronger than it had ever been. Lord, will our family be reunited someday?
The door opened, and she rose as Jackson strode in. She met him in the middle of the room and swung her arms wide. “Well, what do you think?”
His gaze roved around the room, and then he turned his smile on her. “You’ve been busy.”
She shrugged, his warm smile creating a patter in her heart. Brushing the dust from her pant legs, she grinned at him. “All I’ve done for the past week is work in here. It’s come together well.” She crooked her finger. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.” She showed him every detail of the studio and darkroom, and even let him peek at the room in the back that would serve as her living quarters.
“I know it’s small, but it’s at least four times the size of my wagon. I’ll be fine until I save up enough to buy myself a little house.”
He caught her hand. “About that little house . . .”
Something in his tone made Maelle’s heart pound. “Yes?”
“Let’s go back to the studio and sit down. I’d like to talk to you.”
Jackson followed her to the sunlit studio. She sat, and Jackson scooted the second chair closer. When he sat down, their trousercovered knees brushed. She chose not to move away.
“Maelle . . .”
How good that name sounded after years of being Mike! She closed her eyes, savoring the sound.
“. . . you know Aaron and Isabelle will be married a week from Saturday.”
She let her eyes slide open and fixed him with a steady gaze. “Yes. I’m glad I have things pretty well settled here now so I can help Isabelle with the last-minute arrangements. Deciding to get married the same day as the groundbreaking ceremony has given her a great deal to accomplish.”
“I know she’ll appreciate your help.” His hand stretched out to touch her knee. “So many things are changing . . . for Aaron and Isabelle.”
“And for me,” she offered quietly, very aware of the gentle weight of his fingers on her knee.
“Yes.” He drew in a deep breath. “I know you’re happy to have your sister back, and to have this studio.”
“Two lifelong dreams.”
A nod acknowledged her words. His fingers quivered for a moment. “I’m experiencing a change, as well.”
Maelle tipped her head, bringing her brows down. “Oh?”
His hand slipped away as he sat up straight. She felt the absence of the simple touch. “Yes.” Rising from the chair, he paced around the room, seeming to examine the ceiling. His gaze aimed heavenward, his voice came in a strangled rasp. “This battle for the children must be taken as far as it can go, and my father . . . He has finally confessed he isn’t up to it. His heart lies on the ranch. I suppose I suspected as much, but I didn’t want to admit it. I hoped . . .”
Maelle’s heart lodged in her throat. She pushed herself to her feet and stood on wobbly legs. “Jackson, you aren’t giving up, are you?”
Quickly he brought his gaze around to meet hers. “Giving up? Oh, no. I’ll not give up until the laws have been changed. But it means someone else must run for the House of Representatives. Someone with the determination to see the changes made. Maelle . . . that someone else is me.”
Suddenly, she realized what he was telling her. He would be leaving Shay’s Ford. With the realization, she felt a wave of disappointment. Taking a forward step, she held her hand toward him.
He clung to her fingers with a desperation that brought tears to Maelle’s eyes. “It’s difficult for me to leave . . . you.”
She read the hidden message in his eyes. Meeting his gaze, she hoped he read her heart’s response. She chose her words carefully. “I’ll miss you, but I understand why you’ve got to go. The children need your voice, Jackson. If anyone can bring about the needed changes, it will be you.”
“Thank you.”
His brown eyes held her captive, and she forgot to breathe as he gently tugged her into an embrace. Maelle didn’t feel any need to pull away. Her heart rejoiced as she found the freedom to wrap her arms around his middle, to splay her fingers on his firm back and hold tight. Thank you, Lord, for the healing you’ve begun.
After long moments he took hold of her upper arms and set her in front of him. She folded her arms across her chest and assumed a casual pose that belied the wild thumping of her heart. “When will you leave?”
“I’ll be here for the groundbreaking ceremony. Isabelle has asked me to say a few words. Then I’ll attend Isabelle and Aaron’s wedding that evening. Aaron has asked me to stand up with him. But the following Monday, I’ll begin traveling around the state, petitioning support not only for my campaign but also the issue of child labor laws.”
Maelle swayed. A little more than a week . . .
“If I’m elected, which is the goal, I will need to relocate temporar
ily to Jefferson City.”
“How temporarily?”
“The duration of my term.” He shrugged. “One term is two years. And if I’m reelected . . .”
No further explanation was needed. Maelle forced a smile. “You know my prayers will go with you.”
His hands curled around her upper arms. “And I’ll be praying for you, every day, that somehow your brother will find his way to you. In fact . . .” He pressed his lips together, regret tingeing his features. “I should have offered before. My focus has been on this legislation. But I’d like to send out some feelers—give you some legal assistance in tracking him down, if you’ll allow me to help.”
“Oh, Jackson . . .” Maelle melted against him, clinging, appreciation for this caring man welling up to fill her chest. “Thank you.”
He held her close, his chin against her hair, his hands caressing her back. Delicious shivers ran up and down her spine. She remained in his embrace, savoring the pleasure of his nearness, as time ticked slowly by and a bit of the pain in her heart washed away.
“There is something else I wanted to ask you.”
She could feel his voice vibrating in his chest. She smiled, unwilling to move. “Yes?”
He pulled loose. “It’s about my house.” He glanced around, his forehead creasing. “You’ve done so much work here, and if you want to stay, I’ll certainly understand.”
She tugged his hands. “What are you talking about?”
“I wondered if you might consider moving in and being caretaker of my house while I’m gone.”
Her eyes widened. “Live . . . in your house?”
“When I come back through this area, I’ll stay at the ranch with my father. You won’t have to worry about impropriety.”
His assurance only endeared him to her more. “Oh, Jackson, a real house . . .” She shifted her gaze to the window, imagining the privilege of living in a house with a sitting room, a separate bedroom, a real bathroom, and a fully functional kitchen, where she could cook over a stove and then sit at a table to eat. She allowed her imagination to take wing.
Jackson touched her arm, bringing her back to reality. “Maelle? There might be an additional responsibility.”
She waited expectantly.
“You see, the newest hand from my father’s ranch rescued two orphaned youngsters from a cattle rancher. You know the man: Lester Jenks.”
Maelle scowled. She remembered Lester Jenks. Thankfully her prayers had been answered concerning the need to testify against the man in court. He had inexplicably dropped his charges against Jackson and the hand from his father’s ranch and had withdrawn his offer to purchase the land north of town. God certainly worked miracles.
“Right now, the boys are staying at Father’s ranch, but they need to attend school. If they have a place to stay here in the city, they can go to school in Shay’s Ford until the one Isabelle plans to open is complete.”
“And you want them to stay in your house?”
Jackson shrugged. “It’s a large house, so I have the room. But if it would be too much for you, I can ask Aaron and Isabelle to move into my home with the boys.”
Maelle thought out loud. “But when the orphans’ home is complete, they will be living out there. So that would leave your house uncared for again.”
“I don’t want you to feel responsible, and you don’t have to answer now,” Jackson said. “Think about it, pray about it, and you can let me know by the groundbreaking. My father will be bringing the boys along to the ceremony, so you can meet them then.”
Maelle nodded in agreement.
“Well . . .” Jackson backed toward the door. “I better let you finish up here. I’ll see you in church tomorrow?”
“Of course.” With a grin, she added, “And I’ll be wearing a dress, not these trousers.”
Jackson lifted his shoulders in a shrug, his eyes twinkling. “Suit yourself. I happen to think you’re cute as a button in trousers.” Clapping her hands to her cheeks, she admonished, “Get on with you!”
He laughed and strode out the door.
She moved beside the large window, looking out at the street. A feeling of contentment filled her. Knowing she would remain here, no longer a wanderer but a citizen of one community, brought a rush of joy. Thank you, Lord, for letting me find a place to call home.
She gathered up her tools and carried them to the room that held her bedroll and belongings. Thinking of Jackson’s offer to allow her the use of his house while he traveled, she threw her arms wide and exclaimed, “A house to myself!”
But not completely to herself . . . She was soon to become surrogate mother to two boys. Once again, she’d be following her father’s request to take care of the wee ones. Oh, Lord, you work in mysterious ways.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Molly
Shay’s Ford, Missouri
May, 1903
Isabelle placed her hands on Aaron’s shoulders and allowed him to lift her to the ground. Her hand shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun, she glanced down the line of wagons and buggies parked haphazardly along the road. A dust cloud marred the landscape between the school site and the town, providing evidence that more vehicles headed in her direction.
A glance toward the crowd near the platform Aaron and Jackson had constructed in the shade of three tall maples indicated most of the buggies had carried more than one person. Clusters of men, most in business suits with fashionable homburgs covering their heads, milled across the ground. Isabelle blew out a delicate breath. Maelle’s letter writing had certainly been successful. Her stomach tilted in nervous excitement.
Aaron whistled through his teeth, looking around. “Lots of people here already.”
“Just as we hoped.” With a regret-laden sigh, Isabelle added, “But I do wish your parents had come with us.” Deciding Petey wasn’t up to two celebrations in one day, Mr. Rowley had stayed at the market to keep an eye on the boy. Mrs. Rowley was spending the day in the kitchen, preparing pastries for Aaron and Isabelle’s wedding party.
Aaron touched her arm. “I know, sweetheart. But they’ll be prayin’ for you as you make your speech.”
The reminder that her soon-to-be parents-in-law would lift her in prayer somewhat calmed her jumping stomach. She pressed her gloved hands to the abundance of ruffles marching from her neckline to her velvet cummerbund and took a deep breath, further bringing herself under control. When she pulled her hands away, she grimaced. Her white gloves held a coating of dust.
A few firm claps removed most of the gray speckles. Then, grasping the skirt of her new suit, she gave the folds of fabric a vicious shake, dispelling more dust. She smoothed the skirt back into place, admiring the color. After months of wearing black, it cheered her to don a less somber color.
The suit, with its matching skirt and jacket of deep green worsted, would serve as her wedding dress this afternoon. Mrs. Rowley had questioned the wisdom of wearing it to the groundbreaking ceremony, but Isabelle had wanted to look her best for both occasions. She reasoned there would be time in between the events to give it a thorough brushing.
Confident she had managed to rid herself of most of the road dust, she looked up at Aaron. “Do you see Maelle?”
Aaron stood on tiptoe and peered past the horse’s rump, his brows low. Then he gave a nod. “Yes. She’s with Jackson, beside the platform.” He chuckled. “She’s wearing her trousers.”
“She warned me she would be. She can’t climb in and out of the wagon quickly in a dress. But”—she crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a tart tone—“she will be wearing a dress for the wedding.”
Isabelle looked across the grassy landscape to the spot where Jackson and Maelle stood, heads together, obviously deep in conversation. She hid a smile. Although neither Jackson nor her sister had intimated a romance might be blooming, she suspected they harbored fond feelings for each other. She had come to respect Jackson during the weeks of their acquaintance, and it wouldn’t disple
ase her to have him as a part of the family. She’d then have a brother-in-law. It wasn’t exactly the same as having her brother, but—
“Oh.” Aaron interrupted her thoughts. “Maelle wanted to use the wagon bed to set up her camera so she’d have a better view of the ceremony. I’m going to take the wagon over and ask her where she wants it. Do you want to ride with me?”
Isabelle placed a finger against her lips in thought, then shook her head. “No. I’ll walk over to speak to Jackson.” She drew in a breath that straightened her shoulders. “That way I can greet those who’ve chosen to come out today.”
Aaron beamed his approval. “That’s my brave girl. All right, then.” He delivered a kiss to her forehead before pulling himself back onto the wagon seat and picking up the reins.
Isabelle made her way across the ground, weaving between groups of men, nodding, smiling, pointing out the stakes connected with twine that showed where the three-story dormitory, school, and stables would soon be erected. When she reached Jackson and Maelle, Jackson bestowed a kiss on her cheek in greeting.
Maelle offered a hug and then held Isabelle’s hands out from her sides. “You look wonderful! That color is perfect with your hair.” She slipped her arm around Isabelle’s waist and grinned at Jackson. “Have you ever seen a more beautiful bride?”
Jackson smiled. “You look ravishing, Isabelle.” Then he raised one brow at Maelle. “And I’m sure your dress is equally fetching.”
Isabelle answered, “It certainly is! Hers matches mine in color, but—”
“But has no ruffles on the blouse,” Maelle inserted, wrinkling her nose.
Isabelle laughed and gave the end of her sister’s thick braid a gentle tug. “But her hair will be swept up into an elegant twist and—”
“—hidden underneath a ridiculous hat half-covered with a bird’s nest,” Maelle finished, making Isabelle and Jackson both laugh. She had argued adamantly against wearing the millinery, but Isabelle had insisted it was her wedding day and therefore she should have the final say. Maelle had eventually given in.
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