Brokken Redeemed

by Abagail Eldan

  Fear clawed at his belly for her safety and the safety of her charges, but they were now out of reach of the bullets, out of the reach of those who had fled. Miss Edna gave him a wave of thanks as the bell pinged.

  Chance knew, without turning, that the last straggler had fired and missed. But something in the way the teacher stood drew his attention, and he barely glanced as the man rode by.

  He kept his eyes on Miss Edna, attempting to discern his uneasiness. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the teacher slumped to the ground.

  Chance frowned. Had she fainted? No one was close enough to have shot her. Flames continued leaping behind him, from inside the school, up through the holes that had burned through the roof.

  He ignored them as his eyes scanned the area. Not a soul moved. The man who had fired the last shot was gone, leaving only dust that settled in the direction he had ridden.

  Chance still stood, unmoving, perplexed, when he looked back to Miss Edna. Surely, she must have fainted—her health had been poorly, after all. At her waist, a red satin ribbon shimmered in the sun.

  He squinted. Miss Edna had not been wearing red. The young girl, seemingly too young to be a student, stood next to her, tugging her hand. Miss Edna remained unmoving. The flames from the school licked higher, and his dizziness increased. It took all his strength to move his legs, as if he’d already fallen and had yet to comprehend it. He slipped and slid across the roof, making it to the back, and scrambled over the side as the roof collapsed, leaving only the backwall. He worked his way down the footholds, jumped the last few feet to the ground, and sprinted to the teacher’s side.

  He knelt next to the girl, pulling her hand loose from Miss Edna’s limp one. He knew without checking that the woman was dead. Even though he had not known her well, tears formed in his eyes.

  The little girl reached again for Miss Edna’s hand. “G’maw, get up.”

  Chance lifted the girl in his arms. “Grandma? Was she your grandmother?”

  The little girl nodded, her blonde hair blowing in the cold wind. Chance glanced around until he located the other children. They huddled in a small group, on the platform at the depot. Luckily, it had not been set on fire.

  He trotted over to them, noting other buildings still burned. A couple of the girls on the platform looked to be twelve or thirteen, old enough to watch the little girl. He set her down.

  “I have to go, but I’ll be back to check on you... Miss?” He blinked at the little girl.

  “Sally,” the youngster said.

  He nodded. “Miss Sally, stay with Missy.” He recognized the girl he pointed to as the butcher’s daughter. “Missy, you’ll take good care of her?”

  Missy nodded and took the little girl’s hand. Chance ran down the street, toward the center of town, filling with smoke. He glanced over his shoulder, and the little girl watched, her eyes large and solemn, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind.

  Chapter Nine

  Deborah joined with the others to pass buckets of water for Fritz to pour on the flames from the bank. She didn’t want to think and focused on the feel of the bucket, concentrated on not spilling a drop as she passed it along.

  Her mind did not want to comprehend what her eyes saw. Curt and Karl sprawled in the street, not more than twenty feet from her place in line, and red fanned from them. Miss Abby was tending to them, the best she could. Her glance sought Deborah’s more than once, as if she pleaded for understanding. Understand what? That her brothers lay dying in the streets? Her bottom lip quivered. She sniffled, inhaling the smoke that grew thicker around them. She looked down at the bucket in her hand before she passed it to the person beside her.

  If her shoulders ached, if her hands grew tired, she did not know it. She was numb and operated mechanically, feeling nothing, wanting to feel nothing.

  She blinked when someone ran by, someone she knew. She focused, and Chance came into view. He threw her a terse smile of relief before kneeling beside Miss Abby. In but a moment, he had Curt in his arms, carrying him as easily as a child, across the street, down Main, toward the doctor’s office. He returned in a few minutes to scoop up Karl, and Abby followed him.

  New life infused her arms, and she called out encouraging words to those near her, Sophia and Lavendar. And then, blessed relief, coming down West Street, at a gallop, were Sheriff Victoria and the men of Brokken.

  They slid from their horses before coming to a complete stop. The men moved forward to help, and Deborah, Lavendar, and Sophia stepped back to allow them to take their places.

  Without a word, Deborah headed toward Miss Abby’s. Sophia and Lavender fell in step beside her, hurrying to catch up.

  Sophia reached a hand to grab Deborah’s arm, stopping her. “Do you want us to go in with you?”

  Deborah shook her head wearily. “No, ma’am. I’m fine.”

  Sophia nodded. “We’re going to check the hotel, to make sure those ruffians did no damage there.”

  Deborah nodded. She moved along the path to Miss Abby’s and opened the door without knocking. Her legs weakened. Her entire body ached. And yet, the numbness had not left her. She moved on automatic, her heart knowing she could not bear the pain of losing her brothers if it left.

  Chance came down the hallway toward her, and she went into his arms. He wrapped her tightly, rocking gently before releasing her.

  His intense eyes focused on her for a brief second, as if seeing into her very soul, plunging the depths, seeking her out. “I have to go, Deborah. They need my help. The children from the school are at the depot... without their teacher.”

  And then he was gone.

  Her weakened legs carried her forward. Curt and Karl were in the front parlor, on makeshift beds. Their closed eyes, their pallor, as still as death, their chests moving almost imperceptibly, but they breathed. The alternative was too painful to contemplate, and the numbness returned.

  Miss Abby smiled weakly. “I’m doing my best. If only Mathew were here!”

  “He is. Sheriff Vic just returned,” Deborah said, smiling weakly.

  Relief flooded Abby’s face. “I’m sure he’ll be here shortly.”

  Deborah studied her brothers again, as impassionately as if she looked upon a rock. “Will they survive?”

  Abby shrugged. “Only time will tell. Curt lost a lot of blood, and Karl has a stomach wound. It’s possible the bullets missed any vital organs, but if his intestine was perforated...” She let her words trail off.

  Deborah nodded again. “Chance said the children were at the depot. I’ll go fetch them.”

  “It’s terrible what happened to Miss Edna.”

  “What happened?” Deborah asked, listlessly.

  “Chance didn’t tell you?” Miss Abby clasped her hands together and looked down. “A bullet ricocheted from the school bell. It killed her. Instantly, from what Chance said.”

  “At least she did not suffer,” Deborah replied, listlessly. Miss Edna dead, her brothers barely clinging to life, half the town burning... and Deborah felt nothing. Nevertheless, she had a job to do. “I’ll take the children to the hotel for now. Sophia and Lavendar can help with them.”

  Miss Abby gave her a hug that Deborah did not return. “I’ll take good care of your brothers.”

  Deborah pulled away. “I’ve got to go.” And she went out and to the depot. She slowed her steps as she neared the children. They huddled together, the youngest ones, at the very end of the platform.

  Deborah breathed deeply and brought forth a smile, weak though it was, as wobbly as her legs had become. “Who wants some of Miss Sophia’s egg custard?”

  Several heads nodded, and when she motioned, they moved forward.

  One of the older boys, who’d been standing away from the others, narrowed his eyes at her and stepped in front of the children. “Don’t go with her. It’s Deborah Brokken. She’s wanted by the sheriff, along with her brothers, and those other two fellows.”

  Deborah straightened her shoulders. “That
was all a misunderstanding.” She attempted to brighten her smile, but the boy crossed his arms.

  A little girl whom she’d never seen before broke free from an older girl, Missy, and ran to her. “I want my g’maw.”

  Deborah lifted her in her arms, the girl as light as a feather. “Who is your grandmother? We’ll find her in a minute.”

  The boy laughed harshly. “Not alive, you won’t.”

  Missy Maddux punched the boy in the arm. “Stop it, Joshua.”

  Deborah’s heart sank. Miss Edna was her grandmother? Miss Edna never mentioned she had children, not since Deborah had known her.

  Missy motioned to the younger children. “We’re going with Miss Brokken. Come along.”

  To Deborah’s relief, the children obeyed Missy. Deborah bit her bottom lip. Did Missy know her father had been killed, shot down in the street? For a moment, the numbness broke and tears threatened, but she blinked them away. She had to stay calm for the children.

  The hotel was only a short distance from the depot. Sophia and Lavendar were working at one of the dining room tables when they entered, filling baskets with food.

  Both widened their eyes at the children and exchanged a glance with Deborah, who was too tired to explain.

  “You’ve brought us some pleasant company, I see,” Sophia exclaimed with false brightness.

  “Yes, ma’am. The children were at the depot.”

  One of the children stepped forward, a child Deborah did not know. He must have come with his father when the town had advertised for men. “The school is burning down,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Deborah shushed him and turned back to Sophia. “Do you have any custard pie? I promised them some.”

  Lavendar nodded vigorously. “We made five this morning. I’ll make sure everyone gets a piece as soon as I get back. I’m delivering this to fortify those who are fighting the fires.”

  “The older boys can help, Lavendar. I’ll get the pie for the children,” Sophia said.

  She headed to the kitchen and the children followed. The little girl still in Deborah’s arms wiggled to get down, and she set her on her feet.

  After the last child disappeared through the kitchen door, Deborah put the boys to work, to finish packing the baskets.

  She pulled Lavendar aside. “Who is that little girl?”

  “Miss Edna’s granddaughter,” she whispered.

  Deborah frowned“But Miss Edna had no children.”

  “The rumor is...” Lavendar tilted her head closer to Deborah. “Miss Edna had a child out of wedlock, before ever coming to Brokken, all those years ago. I don’t know how her daughter found her but find her she did. Last week, she arrived by stagecoach with that little girl.”

  “Where is Miss Edna’s daughter now? She needs to know her mother has been killed.” Deborah should have softened her words, judging from Lavendar’s reaction.

  The woman blanched, put a hand to her chest, and took a step back, as if hit. “No! Oh, bless that baby’s heart.”

  Deborah nodded, as if she felt the same pain. “Where’s her mother?”

  “She left. She took the same stagecoach out.”

  Lavendar’s cheeks were still pale, so pale Deborah touched her shoulder. “Are you all right? Do you need a glass of water?”

  “Tea would be more to my liking, and we just made a fresh pot.” Lavendar looked at Deborah more closely. “You’re the one who needs to sit down before you fall down. My goodness, you are pale!”

  Lavendar took her arm and led her to a chair. Deborah gladly sank down, beyond exhausted. Lavendar poured her a cup of tea.

  Deborah longed to put her head on her arms, to sleep, but the children were in her care. She would not leave them. “What’s the little girl’s name?”

  “Sally. Sally Jane. She’s three or four years old—I’m not quite sure. Sally Jane was one of the reasons Miss Edna was retiring.”

  “Oh.” And what was to become of the little girl now? She’d talk to Sheriff Vic and see if they could track down her mother.

  Lavendar touched her arm gently. “How are your brothers?”

  Deborah’s mouth refused to work. It twitched until she gave in and laid her head on her arms. The numbness had gone, replaced with a hopeless sorrow. She cried to rid herself of her pain and heartache, cried until she hiccupped, and still she cried, for the pain remained, She inhaled with the desperation of a drowning woman, for that’s what she was—a woman drowning in her tears. Lavendar patted her back and made soothing noises. Deborah regretted distressing her, as she knew she must be doing, but the tears would not abate.

  Sophia returned with the children, and the tears finally abated. Deborah was able to assuage her grief. She quickly sat up and swiped at her cheeks.

  “I’ll be back in a moment,” she mumbled to Sophia and made her way to the kitchen.

  She splashed water on her face and wiped it with a dishcloth. She had no idea what had happened to her own handkerchief. She still wore the britches from the other day, when she and Lydia had broken the men out of jail.

  Lavendar, her face soft and mild, came into the kitchen, bringing her a cup of tea in a porcelain cup. Lavendar had changed into a pale pink dress with rosebuds and a triple flounced skirt. Probably Deborah should change, too, but she could not summon the energy to walk home to do so.

  After Lavendar left, Deborah slid on the bench picked the thin cup up from its saucer, held it with both hands, and raised it in front of her, as if an oblation to the gods. Tears still stung, felt as if they’d sting her forever.

  After a moment, she took a sip of the tea, warm and soothing. And then she ate a piece of pie she did not want. She fiddled with the fork and time passed. After a while, she struggled to her feet and began gathering the dishes left scattered on the long farm table.

  Although the dining room and front rooms of the hotel were elegantly maintained, the kitchen was more to Deborah’s style, more like a farmhouse kitchen, like the one at the hunting house, although this one was much bigger. She should have gone back, to check on the children, but could not bear to see Sally Jane. Her mother had abandoned her to a grandmother she did not know and now that grandmother was gone. What would happen to her now? And who would tell the little girl her “g’maw” was gone? Or did she already know, told by the other children?

  Deborah washed the last dessert plate and wished she had Isaac, more for his company than for his help to dry for her, as he’d done at the hunting house, a few short months ago. Could it have been only a few months ago she’d met Chance on the train?

  The door from the dining room opened, and Deborah glanced over her shoulder. It was Chance. And he was holding Sally Jane who held to him as if for dear life.

  Chance spoke calmly, levelly. “We finally got the fires out.”

  Deborah took his cue and spoke flatly, with no inflection. “How much damage?”

  “The bank has the least. Much of our effort was concentrated there. The general store can be repaired, as can the restaurant. Probably won’t take long, a few weeks, before they re-open.”

  Deborah was well aware he had not mentioned the school nor the butcher shop, and she did not ask about them. After searching his eyes for a moment, she moved restlessly. “I need to send the children home.”

  “No need. Their parents came looking for them. They’re all gone except...” He inclined his head to the little girl.

  Sally Jane laid her head on Chance’s shoulder. “I go home now.”

  “Yes, you can go home with me,” Deborah said.

  Sally Jane shook her head. “With him.” She poked her finger in Chance’s chest.

  Deborah glanced at Chance and then back to Sally. “You can’t go with him, darling.”

  “Perhaps she can.” Chance’s eyes looked distressed, hopeful, and pained by turns.

  Deborah frowned at him. “Chance! You cannot go home with me, if that’s what you are thinking.”

  “Are you still angry?” The hopeful look
returned, and his breathing deepened and slowed.

  Tears filled her eyes, and her lips twitched again in an effort to form words until she simply shook her head.

  “Good. Preacher Grisson will be happy to marry us, if you are willing.”

  “Of course, but he can’t tonight,” she choked out. She could not stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks again and grabbed the dishcloth for a handkerchief. Her weeping quieted with her exhaustion although the tears still flowed.

  Chance massaged the back of his neck. “Yes. Right this minute, as a matter of fact.” He held Sally Jane with one arm and held out his free hand for Deborah.

  She took his warm hand that felt so right in hers, and they went into the dining room. She was blinded by her tears and kept her head down.

  Chance spoke, to Sophia, she assumed. “We’re taking her home with us. Deborah has agreed.”

  Deborah heard a laugh. Klint’s. She swallowed hard, looked up, and blinked. The room was filled with people—Klint, Fritz and Lydia, Jake and Rebecca, even their shy sister Beth, Sheriff Vic, Preacher Grisson and Miss Trudie, Sophia, Lavendar, Molly, her husband Tom, Isaac, her grandparents, and even Miss Abby.

  She searched Abby’s face, and Abby gave a simple nod, and she knew her brothers were all right, for now. Sophia offered to take Sally Jane, but she would not let go of Chance’s neck. “She can stay here with me,” Chance said. “Ready, Deborah?”

  Preacher Grisson had his Bible open. “Shall we begin?”

  Deborah clung to Chance’s arm as her knees weakened. This was too much, after all that had happened. Her tears flowed again.

  This was never how she imagined marrying, but did the wedding matter? Only the man beside her did.

  She released Chance, and her eyes searched the crowd until she caught sight of the man who had been like a father to her. “Isaac...” Tears still flowed, but he understood her.

  He came and held out his arm, and she took it. He smiled. “It’s my honor to give the bride away.”

  Lavendar clapped. “We’ve always wanted a wedding here. Go to the landing and walk down the stairs.”