Sins of the Mothers (Texas Romance Series Book 4)

by Caryl McAdoo

  “Commendable.”

  He held a finger up. “Oh, I almost forgot the newspaper; I bought half-interest in the Sacramento Herald, then placed an order for a thousand New Testaments and five hundred complete Bibles.

  “The editor accepted side print orders to make ends meet. So far, he’s delivered a hundred of the New Testaments to Brother Paul, plus getting the rag out weekly.”

  Henry shook his head. “Are you for real, son? Either you’re a saint or the best confidence man I’ve ever met.”

  Mary Rachel stood, then walked into the hall; the door remained closed. She hurried back to her chair at the kitchen table. “What could they be talking about for so long?” She looked to Mama May. “Shouldn’t we get on back in there?”

  Her new mother grinned. “It’s only been a few minutes, darling. Try and relax, drink you tea.”

  Miss Jewel extended her hand across the table and patted Mary’s. “You know you can trust him, Baby. Your daddy? He’ll always do what’s best for you.”

  Was that what had her in knots?

  She’d been so confident that he’d say yes once he knew the situation. But now that she knew her heart… How could she have been so blind? Why had it taken so very long for her to see the truth when it languished right there in front of her?

  Poor Jethro.

  Praise God he proved patient and persevered.

  She loved Jethro Risen. Now that she knew it, she realized that maybe on some level she had since that day in Miss Ling’s parlor. After all, he stayed with her and didn’t run after the China Doll.

  But how could she have been so stupid and still let Edward have his way with her? He played her for the fool.

  Standing again, she sat right back down. “Mercy, I should be in there with them. Those two are talking about my future after all.”

  Mama May nodded. “No. Your father wants time alone with your Jethro.”

  “But why can’t I be in there? What’s he going to say to him that I can’t hear?” Mary Rachel looked back to the hall. “What if Daddy shoots him?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. Your father hasn’t shot anyone in years.” She kept a straight face and turned sideways. “Ooops, seems we’re wanted.”

  Mary Rachel jumped to her feet. Her father stood in the doorway, looking rather stern. He stepped to the side then followed her and Mama May back into his library. Jethro sat exactly where she’d left him.

  She slipped into the same seat as before, next to him. Her heart pounded as she waited for her daddy to situate himself.

  He had to say yes.

  He could not deny her this.

  Well, if he tried, would Jethro take her off and marry her anyway? Or would he leave her and the baby there and go back to San Francisco alone?

  He slipped his hand into Mama May’s. “Mary Rachel, no reason discussing what’s done. You two are saying all the right things, and I believe you both. I also understand the urgency and appreciate its reasoning. Under different circumstances, I’d hope for more time, but… Yes, daughter. My answer is yes. I will bless your union.”

  Jumping up, Jethro whooped. He pulled her to her feet, wrapped her in her arms—but not too tight—and swung her around real easy. So precious for him to remember, be so mindful of her condition.

  Stopping a twirl where he faced her father, he let her go with one arm. “Thank you, sir. I give you my word. You’ll never regret this.”

  She snuggled in tighter, pulled Jethro closer. “Is tonight too soon, Daddy?”

  “No, I’ll send Charley to fetch the preacher.”

  “He old enough to go by himself?”

  “Yes, do you think I’d send him if he wasn’t?”

  “No, sir. Guess I’ve just been gone too long. Still think of him as a little kid. Can we let everyone assume the baby is Jethro’s, and that’s why we’re in a rush?”

  Her father looked to his new wife, except she was not so new anymore to everyone else, only to Mary. Mama May nodded then spoke up. “Darling, there’s a fact your mother knew, as do I, about your paternal grandparents.”

  “What about them? They taught at the university together, right?”

  “That’s right, sweetheart. They did.” Her daddy looked straight at her. “But they were never married.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because my father already had a wife—and children. I knew him. He came to visit until I was seven, but after that, Mother… Well, she put a stop to it.”

  Oh, Lord. Her choosing to run off… It opened her to repeat the sins of her mother and her grandmother. “So, what are you saying, Daddy?”

  He smiled. That rather superior grin he gave those who dared challenge his authority. “We don’t owe anyone an excuse or an explanation. Jethro tells me you two are planning a trip to New York, going to find his father. We’ll get you two hitched tonight, and off you go.”

  Her head spun, but he was right.

  She didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

  No one could change the past.

  Her father had turned out just fine with no daddy. Her baby wouldn’t be fatherless at all, neither of them. They’d have Jethro. “You’re right, Daddy. We don’t have to say a word about anything other than how much we love each other.”

  “And how happy we are.” Jethro squeezed her with the arm still around her waist.

  She kissed him on the cheek then pushed him away. “Time for you to go visit with the men. We women have a wedding to plan.” She extended her hand toward Mama May who hurried to take it. “Where’s Rose and my sisters?”

  The sweet sound of a little piglet suckling brought Jethro totally awake. He snuggled in close to his wife’s back, kissed her cheek then peeked at Susannah. His baby girl; she’d know about her father; but she’d always be his daughter.

  Same as Francy and the new baby.

  How very blessed he was that God filled his quiver so full.

  Thank You, Lord.

  Once the baby finished her breakfast, Mary Rachel eased her back into her crib then slipped back into bed. Her bed in her childhood room, but forever to him, it would be the most wonderful honeymoon suite.

  He’d never forget it, or the night of nights he’d just enjoyed.

  “Tell me, Mister Risen, any regrets?”

  “Not at all, Mis’ess Risen. You regretting anything?”

  “No, sir. Not me. I am the happiest woman in the world.” She pressed her lips against his real soft and sweet, then scooted in closer and gave his bottom lip a little love nip.

  All conversation ceased.

  He stayed three days, two more than he wanted, but nowhere near the week everyone begged him for.

  In the end, the whole clan came to town to see Mary Rachel and him off. A part of him thought maybe to keep anyone from asking questions, but whatever the reason, he’d never had so many people give him such a sendoff.

  He loved it thoroughly.

  If only such a reception awaited in New York.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  With his new bride snuggled next to him, Jethro didn’t hate leaving on the stage at all. Nothing like the ride coming to Clarksville. No doubt or worry to weight his heart down. He and his love had been joined, and God saw the two as one. That’s what His Word said, and he didn’t have to be concerned.

  Jethro would never let any man put Mary Rachel and him asunder.

  The coach’s constant swaying wore on him a bit, and Francy’s wallowing, but soon enough the driver blew his bugle on the west side of Memphis. Thirty-four hours over three days on the hard bench proved a small price to pay.

  After a short ferry ride, it was comfortable, wonderful, fast, smooth trains from then on, all the way to New York.

  Twice the speed as the stage and no swaying back and forth. The dining cars and sleepers rivaled the steamboat accommodations. Far as he was concerned, trains were the only way to travel.

  Five almost pleasant days with an educational layover in Washington—Francy love
d all the history and Mary almost as much. Exactly nine days and five hours after leaving the Lone Star State, Jethro knocked on his mother-in-law’s brownstone on Park Avenue.

  “Wasn’t it sweet of Mama May to offer her home?”

  “Yes, absolutely. You’re going to love Central Park.”

  The door swung open. An elderly woman, dressed like one of the maids who populated his childhood, smiled. “You must be Miss May’s children? Come in, come in.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’m Mary Rachael Whee—uh—Risen. “ She covered her mouth and blushed. “Our stepdaughter. And my husband of twelve days, Jethro. I take it you received our telegram?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I sure did, and your rooms are ready.” She closed the door after Jethro. “I’m Eleanor, and I’m so pleased to meet you both. You let me know if there is anything you need while you’re here.”

  That first evening, Jethro took his bride and daughters to a little bistro his father had taken him to on many occasions, but other than searching each face going and coming and while there, he made no other inquiries.

  The next day he set out in earnest, starting at the last place of employment Jethro knew his father had worked. Been years since anyone had seen him at the Plaza, where he’d once stood outside and greeted patrons after his fall from his lofty perch as the owner of Risen Bank and Trust.

  The man still considered it so beneath him, but he opened the door for those who used to be clients, to put food on the table.

  Before, Jethro had reveled in how much it must have hurt his pride, but now it nicked his heart that his father had been brought so low. Only one old bellhop even remembered him, but had no idea where he might have gone.

  That afternoon he stopped in at the Pinkerton Detectives office on Madison. Yes, they had gotten his wire, but had no leads. Claimed they were still working on it, and Jethro had no doubts of that with the reward he offered.

  He left the brownstone’s number, and they promised to bring word of any news. He found Mary Rachel and his girls right where he’d shown them to meet him in Central Park, all ready for a nice little picnic.

  He eased down on the quilt, and she and Francy started unpacking dinner. “You should see what all Miss Eleanor packed for us, Daddy! We’re going to have a great picnic, and I helped make the chicken salad, too. It has apples and raisins and walnuts. Did you ever hear of such a thing?”

  His wife, oh how he loved her being that, handed him a few dried figs. “Any word?”

  “No, he hasn’t been at the plaza in years, and the detectives are making inquiries, but haven’t come up with any real leads.”

  “Look, I made them.”

  “What, baby?”

  Swinging a brown sack, she grinned ear to ear. “The cookies, I made them. With Miss Eleanor’s help, of course, but it was mostly me. They’re for dessert.”

  “I would bet they’re delicious.”

  “Yes, they are. I had to taste when I was baking them to be sure, you know. I love them. And I already prayed, too. We all did. Blessed the food and that you’d find your father.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “And you will, I just know it. Maybe tomorrow, but before we leave.”

  He so hoped she was right. Though he could never take back the hateful words he’d spoken, he could ask forgiveness. Offer him a new job, even a share of the Miner’s Bank.

  Except no word and the days dragged on.

  As he’d also planned for the trip, he located a dairy, and made arrangements to ship twelve, two-year-old bred Holstein heifers and an unrelated yearling bull to New Orleans. The cattle, as well as he and his family, would leave in two days, whether he found his father or not.

  Gone so long already, he sensed an urgency to get back to California, the mine, and the orphanage.

  Mary Rachel seemed just as anxious about the Mercantile. Francy loved New York and couldn’t care less.

  The morning of the last full day in the City broke bright and sunny, but by mid-morning, a storm rolled in and a light rain fell. A hint of autumn rode the air, but his heart found no relief. He’d had such high expectations.

  From all appearances, his father had vanished. Perhaps lay dead in a pauper’s grave or gone to who knew where for a new start.

  Changing his contact information with the Pinkerton, he got the distinct impression they were more interested in the bigger rewards offered by the banks and in guarding New York’s well-to-do.

  Tired of watching the hacks and surreys speed by in the rain, he went to see what his ladies were about that not-so-fine morning. He found Mary Rachel sitting at Mama May’s oversized desk reading, while Francy and Susie played dolls on the floor.

  “Look, Daddy, this is Trudy. Miss Eleanor says I can take her with me because she’s my favorite.” She turned a knob on top the doll’s hat. “She cries sometimes, then she’s happy!”

  “How about Trudy. Did you thank Miss Eleanor?”

  “Yes, sir. ’Course I did.”

  Getting so big, Susie still seemed more interested in chewing on the little rag arm than loving on the make-believe babies.

  “Seems our dinner date has been rained out.”

  Mary Rachel leaned back and pulled the lacy curtain a little open. The rain still fell, and hundreds of New Yorkers scurried by under their umbrellas. “Eleanor said she’d be happy to make us something here.” She pulled the material farther back. “Oh, poor man. His carriage wheel fell off in the rain.”

  REUEL HELP HIM

  “I’ll be right back, dear.”

  He grabbed his hat, snugged it down tight, turned up his collar, and marched out not exactly sure how he could help. But if he knew anything, he recognized the voice of the Lord when He spoke.

  If God told him to go, then he could help. The man had the wheel turned sideways on its axle trying to force it back on.

  Jethro slipped beside him and grabbed the wheel. “Here, sir, let me help.”

  The man released the rim, straightened, then backed away. “Jethro?”

  For a heartbeat, the voice didn’t register. Then it hit him like a load of black powder through hard rock. He faced the man. “Father, is it really you?”

  “Yes, Son. It is.” The years had been hard on his face, but he still stood tall. Not nearly as arrogant or proud looking as the last time Jethro saw him.

  “I came to find you, to apologize. I’m sorry, Father. Can you please forgive me?”

  “No, son. I’m the one who lost everything and ruined our lives. I need to ask your forgiveness. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  Where should he start? He had so much to say. He glanced at the wheel then the poor horse standing in the rain. “Is this your hack?”

  “No, I hire it by the day.”

  “Let’s get it back to its owner then.” Jethro raised the axle while his father put the wheel back on, found the locking nut, then climbed aboard. The ride to the barn then back again in a hired covered carriage took less than an hour.

  Then he found himself introducing his wife and babies to his father.

  “This is great, I have two new grandpas!” Francy beamed.

  After hugs, a change into dry clothes, and a hot meal, his ladies retired to the bedroom and left him and his father alone.

  “Not right, me starting off saying you’re wrong, Father, but I do need your forgiveness. All those hateful things I said to you the last time we… I was so wrong. I know I can’t take them back, but I am sorry. I repent and ask you again to please forgive me.”

  “Of course, I do, Son. But you spoke the truth, hard as it was to hear. I’d killed her same as if I poured the poison down her throat.”

  “No. I’ve come to see she choose that way out. And only she is responsible for her choice, not you. I’ve forgiven her, and now, may I count us reconciled?”

  “Nothing could please me more. It is so good to see you, Jethro. How long have you been living on Park Avenue? I pass by here almost every day.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, we’re just visiting.” He explained about his mother-in-law, her being a famous author.

  “I’ve heard of May Meriwether. So this is her place?”

  “Yes, sir. I came to New York for two reasons. To find you and to buy some milk cows. But before I tell you my plans, I need to ask a question first. Are you a Christian, Father?”

  He nodded. “Not a very good one though. After your mother.…” He closed his eyes and shook his head like he shouldn’t have even mentioned her. “My parents were Quaker, but guess I took more to their work ethic than religion. Then the money… Oh, Son, if you’re as rich as you appear, beware of the love of money.”

  “I understand, but I’ve already wrestled that demon. With God’s help, I overcame, don’t love it. What was it you were going to say about Mother?”

  “I was about your age when we married; did she ever tell you our union was arranged?”

  “No, sir. How’d that come about?”

  “Every deal I did turned golden. All the whaling ships I bought shares in came to port loaded with oil. I could do no wrong. I’d gained control of the bank earlier that year.” He looked off, as though searching for the right words. “Your mother had caught my eye. Her father came to me for a loan.

  “I knew the man and his very lovely daughter. She’d turned sixteen that year, belle of every ball she attended. He needed some of my money, and I needed, well wanted.…” He shrugged. “I loved her, Jethro. I really did. I also longed to be more than the rich upstart. An established family I thought would settle me, us.”

  No wonder he’d never heard this before. “She agreed? To the arrangement?”

  “Not at first, but her father convinced her. Without my money, he’d be ruined, and she… Well, let’s just say your mother wasn’t trained to be anything other than a lady.”

  “If you loved her, then why the…” Jethro didn’t even want to voice what his father had been, maybe still was.

  “Indeed, the why. She shared my bed until you came along. At first, I waited. Hoped she’d change her mind, but she told me no, under no circumstance. She never wanted to experience such pain ever again.