Sins of the Mothers (Texas Romance Series Book 4)

by Caryl McAdoo

  “No, seeing that China Doll woman in the flesh helped. I’d made her out to be more than she was, and…” She scrunched her shoulders and hugged herself. “Surely Moses has told you the Bible says the truth will set you free.”

  As though she’d been holding her breath, Lanelle exhaled long and slow. “I was fourteen when he’d stole a bottle of his daddy’s home brew. He was sixteen. After we drank too much, we crawled up into the hay loft.”

  Her indiscretion with Edward had started with alcohol. She was seeing now why her mother called the stuff liquid evil.

  Had Susannah Abbott Baylor drank too much when she was young? No, her Andrew was a good man, then she always had Levi and Rebecca. No time for vices.

  “After that, from then on, well, we’d get together whenever we could.” Tears welled in her cousin’s eyes. The pain overflowed and ran down her cheeks, screwed her face to ugly and hurt. “I’m so sorry, Mary. I hated you. Stupid to think if I gave him a baby, he’d leave you, and...” She sobbed. “I was such an idiot. I’d been so careful all those years, then…”

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t swallow, and she needed to. Wetness rolled down her face. She gasped and jumped to her feet. She knelt beside Lanelle. “We can’t change the past. And how could we live without Joshua or Susannah? He can’t hurt either one us of any more…”

  Her own tears flowed hot as she hugged her cousin. Lanelle slipped off her chair and hugged Mary tight. For the longest, she and her only friend sat in the floor and sobbed. When the pain eased, Mary leaned back. “I love you.”

  Sniffling, Lanelle wiped her cheeks. “I love you, too.” She snickered. “You’re certainly not the snotty princess I once thought you were.”

  “Princess?” She chuckled. “Why’d you think I was a princess?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. Everyone in Red River Valley knows all you Buckmeyers are royalty, heirs to the throne. Why, your daddy owns half the valley. And he’s so good looking, and you’re all so pretty and handsome. At first, I wanted to be Rebecca. John was so smitten with her. Then when Caleb started courting you and told me he was going to marry –”

  “When was that?”

  “Right before he started going to the Methodist Church.”

  “You mean he planned it all along?”

  She nodded. “But in Jefferson, right before you got there, he told me he loved you.”

  “You and he were in Jefferson together?”

  “Yes, I was praying you’d get there early or not come at all, but he wouldn’t let me wait and see. Made me ride with the whiskey.” She snapped her fingers. “I just remembered. I’ve still got a jug of Texas Gold at the mine. Man, an Irish coffee sure would be good right about now.”

  Mary stood and extended her hand then helped Lanelle to her feet. She hugged her again, good and long then wiped her cheeks. “Wow, what a morning. I certainly didn’t plan… Thank you for being honest with me.”

  “I’m the one most grateful for you not hating me. I’ll never be able to repay you or thank you enough for taking such good care of Joshua.”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have mentioned our little piglet.” She held her arm tight against both breasts. “Here comes dinner, I best run.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Lanelle laughed.

  “Come on, maybe we can sweet talk Mattie into letting Francy out of the corner.”

  She slipped her hand into Mary’s. “Don’t you just love that little scalawag?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The ferrymanwaved him up. Easing the team onto the barge, Jethro whoaed the mules inches from the wagon in front of him, set the brake, then tied off the reins. His partner walked the Clydesdale up next to him.

  He wagged his head at his friend. “That beast weighs more than both these mules; probably eats twice as much, too.”

  “I don’t care. I like him. First horse I ever sat that didn’t even notice me on his back.”

  “Why didn’t you buy a saddle?”

  “Couldn’t find one big enough.”

  “Want to try that livery the other side of Marin?”

  “Bare back is fine. Done it plenty when we worked Clinton’s Ditch.”

  “How long ago was that? And those were mules, and, you walked a lot, too. Let’s stop and check. They might have an oversized saddle or know a maker who can customize one for you.”

  “You love spending our coin.”

  He held his hands out. “What’s it for if not to spend.” He glanced around. No one paid any attention. “We’ve got plenty my friend, and I don’t want you bouncing off that giant and breaking your head open.” He leaned closer. “Besides, no telling how much more Elijah and the boys have dug.”

  “Fine, we’ll stop, but I’d like to hurry. Get there and get back. I’m already missing Lanelle and Josh.”

  Jethro didn’t respond, missing Mary, too. He sighed. Not that she cared one whit that he’d left. Go on, go to the moon. I don’t care. That’s what she’d told him. A small cloud of fog drifted by, then a small hole opened. A bridge loomed over his head. He stared, amazed at the site. Twined iron or steel cable climbed high into the sky from the passage.

  But how could anyone make that much steel? And instead of rock arches, the roadway hung from the colossal metal ropes. The hole closed. “When? How?” The fog bank drifted by, but left only blue sky.

  “When what?”

  Jethro shook his head. “Nothing. I thought… Did you see a bridge?” A shiver scrabbled up his spine.

  “No, I did not.”

  What had that been about? A bridge from San Francisco to Sausalito? Impossible. Ridiculous. Even with ten Roman Legions and all of Caesar’s engineers, he couldn’t build a span like he’d just seen. Had it only been in his mind’s eye? Seemed so real.

  “And you can forget a bridge, partner. Elijah and I ain’t building no bridge. The ferry’s fine, just fine.”

  Jethro laughed. “I’m not wanting you to.”

  “Know what we do need to build? A dairy. We can find us some Holsteins or Jerseys and every morning, let the ladies fill buckets with their milk. Aye, we’re talking liquid gold.”

  Suddenly, like a dense fog bank rolled across his mind’s eye, he witnessed a horde of children milking and tending a long row of cows. Some of the children he even recognized from his dreams, but instead of playing in the yard, they worked in the dairy barn. “Where?

  “Where what?”

  “Would you want to build it?”

  “Build what?”

  “You left your brain back with your wife and son, didn’t you?” Jethro punched his shoulder. “The dairy. It would have to be out a ways, yet close enough to get the milk and butter to town.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am. Matter of fact, I’ve been dreaming about it, though didn’t realize it until just now.”

  “Have we got enough money? So far the only cows I’ve found, they want a small fortune for. Where would we ever find a whole herd for the right price?”

  “New York has plenty.”

  “New York?” Moses shoved him back. “Now who’s left their brain where? Tell me how you’re going to get a herd across the country to California?”

  “Don’t know, but there’s a way. Let’s do it.”

  Before his friend answered, the barge slowed then drifted into the far bank. Moses patted his horse’s neck and talked to him as though the moose could understand, then he turned sideways and smiled. “Before or after the bank?”

  “We can do both.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded, though not completely sure. He had no idea what either would cost or exactly how much gold lay in the bank or the mine. But God did, and his father would know how much he needed to open a bank. Could he even stand looking at the man long enough to find out? Much less heeding his advice? If he still even lived.

  A dairy. Where would he start? And how would Moses and Lanelle react when he told them the rest of
it? Raising your wife’s son by her dead cousin… That was one thing. But how would his friend feel about a passel of other people’s urchins?

  Mary knelt beside the little girl sitting on a stool facing the wall. “Supper’s ready.”

  “Ain’t hungry.” Francy continued to stare at the corner.

  “What do you suppose Mister Jethro would say about you being so stubborn?”

  “He ain’t here.”

  “Did you know that’s not a word?”

  She turned. “Is so. Didn’t ya hear? I just said it twice.”

  “Silly Francy, that doesn’t make it a word. It has to be in the dictionary. Ain’t isn’t.”

  She looked at her lap. “Amos shouldn’t of said nothing. He don’t care about anything or nobody.”

  “Mister Jethro said he’d be back.”

  She snorted then shook her head. “Why should he come back? You hate him.”

  Her words pushed Mary back. “No, I do not. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “On account of the way you treat him. You’re always being mean and bossing him around.”

  “Frances Boyd! I do not.”

  She gave her a knowing smirk. “Sure do. He loves you, and you just make him feel bad every time he’s around.”

  Mary jerked back, studied the girl a minute, then leaned in close. “Did he say that?”

  “Heavens no. You think he’d tell a little girl that? But I see how he looks at you. Just like Pa looked at that lady he ordered in the mail.”

  How could she explain the difference between love and desire to a nine-year-old. “You are wrong, you know, and you shouldn’t say I hate him.”

  Francy raised a shoulder. “I’ve heard how mean you talk to him. It wouldn’t be no wonder if he done left and never comes back.”

  When had the girl overheard her? Thinking on it, she hadn’t been too kind to the man. But mercy, he constantly infuriated her something terrible. Well, she’d have to watch her tone after he got back.

  “I tasted a little piece of Miss Mattie’s roast. Sure hate for you to miss that. And you know Amos loves you. You need to tell him you’re sorry.”

  “I didn’t hit him that hard anyway.”

  “Pretty hard, I saw the red spot.”

  “He should be the one has to apologize.” Francy swung her feet, then looked over sideways smiling. “If I do, will you promise to be nice to Mister Jethro?”

  “Of course. That’s an easy promise.”

  She nodded and jumped off the stool. “Good, cause I want him to be my pa and you for my ma.” The girl kissed her cheek then ran into the kitchen. “Amos, I’m sorry I hit you so hard that it hurt your sissy self.”

  “Fraaanceeey…”

  Jethro extended his hand. “Deal?”

  The man shook his head. “No, two eighty, coin or dust.”

  “Seventy.”

  “Five.”

  “You’re a hard man, but deal.”

  The old boy grinned, spit in his palm then extended it. Jethro did the same. Why not? When in Rome and all.

  Moses handed him the money belt. “Shake a leg, we can make another ten miles today.”

  A good deal. Nice mare, better buggy. Instead of pushing on, he’d prefer to stay the night. Hard tack and jerky didn’t have near the appeal of a store-bought meal, nor the hard ground to a bed, but Moses wouldn’t hear it.

  Seemed all the man could think about was getting back to Lanelle. How could Jethro blame him though? If Mary waited for him with open arms, he’d probably never have even left in the first place.

  More like twelve miles before Moses pulled the new rig off the road. Jethro stopped the wagon, leaving a good ten feet between the two. Half hour after last light before everything was done: animals grained, watered, and hobbled, harness hung out to dry, firewood gathered and kindled.

  If he hadn’t shot his mouth off, but then he didn’t like the idea of Moses falling off that huge horse, riding bareback. And he did get a great deal on the horse and buggy. Much better knowing his partner rode on springs. Hadn’t been that long since he almost got blown to kingdom come.

  Plus, this way, he couldn’t argue leaving Goliath at the mine to skid wood.

  Moses handed him a big chunk of jerky. “Want to switch tomorrow?”

  “No need, the wagon isn’t that bad.”

  “Suit yourself. We could tie them all to the buggy.”

  “No, it’s uphill most of the way, tying that Clydesdale to the back of the buggy is one thing, those mules pulling a load would be another.”

  Moses tossed him a hunk of bread. “Lanelle baked it yesterday. It’s better hot, but it aint’ too bad.”

  “Thank her for me. She send anything else? Some of that apple pie maybe?”

  The big man laughed. “No, her pies don’t last long enough to get sent anywhere.”

  Jethro scooted back and leaned against the wagon’s wheel. “You like children, right?”

  “Aye, like the wee boogers fine so long as I don’t have to change the babies after they dirty themselves.” He shivered. “Have you smelled…?” He grabbed his nose. “Phewee, I don’t know how the women folk stand it. Gags me all the way to my big toes.”

  “I agree.” Except he really didn’t know. The thought in the abstract alone proved bad enough to be in agreement with the man. “Besides that though, you like them. The older ones? Like Francy.”

  “Sure, what is it you’re getting at?”

  “An orphanage.”

  “What?”

  “A home. For all the orphans. You’ve seen them on the streets. It’s where Amos and Francy would be if not for Elijah coming up on them. Her passing as a boy.”

  “Look Jethro, this morning it was a bridge. Then a dairy. And you’ve been talking about a miners’ bank for a month now. How many ways are you wanting to spend our gold?”

  “The dairy was your idea. I just saw it as a place where we could keep the little darlings. There’d be plenty of milk, and the older ones could help.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am. Been dreaming about it. It’s wild, Moses, like the dreams aren’t from my own making. And sometimes, I hear things. The children can work, and besides the cows, we can have crops. If we set it up right, the place will support itself, and God’s children will have a better life, be safe.”

  “All this because of Francy and Amos?”

  “Maybe. Brother Paul is doing what he can, but feeding all those urchins a bowl of soup a day and reading to them from the Bible isn’t like having a real roof over their heads. Or learning how to work, get ready for life in the real world after they’re grown.”

  Moses nodded. “Suffer the little children to come unto me.”

  “Exactly. That’s the same scripture that came to my mind when Elijah brought Amos and Francy to the mine. Well, not like I thought of it myself, more as if something inside spoke it. But into my head, not my ears. You ever had that happen?”

  “Aye, often the Lord speaks. Good Book says His sheep know His voice.” The man stretched out his long legs and rested against the wheel. “But I ain’t going back to New York, so you best figure out somewhere else to get them cows, unless you’re willing to go it alone.”

  “I will find them one way or another. What do you think Lanelle will say?”

  “Oh, we both want to get out of town; we love the solitude the mountains offer, we do. Running a dairy sounds like a challenge enough. Throw in a bunch of scalawags….”

  Jethro hopped up and tossed another piece of deadfall on the fire. “But she’ll go for it?”

  “You know how to milk a cow?”

  “No, but how hard can it be?”

  “What about the bank? You sure we can do both?”

  “I am.”

  “Your old man teach you anything about banking before he went and lost all his money?”

  “Not much, but some.”

  A long silence ensued.

  “Tell me true now, Jethro, do you al
so want to build that bridge you saw?”

  “No. I don’t know what that was all about, but no. Caesar and all his men couldn’t build what I saw, and he had over ten legions.”

  “Good, you take the first watch. I’m bushed. Lanelle kept me up late last night.” He stretched out, not waiting for a response.

  Not soon enough, time came to wake Moses, but sleep did not come easy. Been too much talk, too many thoughts of this father. Would he be waiting in the shadows of his slumber? Him and his lame excuses for gambling away the money, killing his mother same as if he’d poured the poison down her throat.

  Served the old letch right, having to stand in front of that extravagant hotel opening doors for the people he wouldn’t have given the time of day to before.

  FORGIVENESS

  Jethro’s eyes came open. A million stars twinkled down. The pain in his heart as fresh as the day he’d found her so cold and stiff. The lifeless stare in his mother’s eyes, even now, still bore into his soul. Then as realization crept in, the pain dulled and slipped back into its hidey hole in his heart.

  FORGIVE HER REUEL

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “One night in town.” Jethroeyed the boy hard.

  “Yes, sir.” Elijah grinned.

  “Sign those papers first thing, and get them to the clerk. I’m sure the man keeps banker hours.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jethro glared at Ned, shook his head, then pointed at him. “Don’t mess up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Moses laughed then slapped the reins over the mules’ back. “See you in a couple of weeks.”

  “Take care, partner. Have Lanelle bake me a pie.”

  He leaned out and smiled. “Wouldn’t do you any good. I’d eat it ’fore it made its way up the mountain.”

  The wagon topped the first ridge and rolled out of sight. Jethro strolled back to the woodpile. Cody swung the axe, split off a quarter of the slab, then stood the eighteen-inch piece back onto the stump. He looked up. “Ain’t right. Ned getting to go. We ain’t even been back a month yet.”