Long Time Gone

by Mary Connealy

  That got a smile out of her.

  “You looked so fragile that day, and then when I heard what you’d done for that mother and her three children, giving them all your money so they could eat, going without yourself—”

  “Any decent person would go without to feed hungry children. You certainly would.”

  He brushed aside her protest. “The sad truth is, many people wouldn’t. But you did, and I knew that along with being beautiful, you were generous and kindhearted, too.”

  A tiny smile trembled on her lips. “That’s a lot to figure out about one unconscious woman you’ve never spoken to.”

  He wished he could turn that smile into a big one. A smile with no hurt, no fear behind it. He wanted to know what had happened to her, and yet he understood completely that a body wanted to keep dark times to themselves.

  But the little smile was an encouraging sign. Justin tilted his head. “That’s what I saw. Then I took you to the orphanage and saw how much Sister Margaret loved you. I knew you had to be a good woman through and through.”

  “Aunt Margaret loves everyone. I think that’s part of the job when you’re a nun.”

  That gave Justin a moment of concern. “Are . . . are you considering becoming a nun?” He admired and respected Sister Margaret, but the thought of Angie taking the veil was upsetting for some reason.

  “Honestly, the idea appeals to me, but there are a couple of things stopping me.”

  He waited, not wanting to appear too eager to hear what those things were. Because he was all too ready to encourage her in her doubts, which was most likely a sin. He asked for forgiveness even as he braced himself to argue with her. “What’s stopping you?”

  “I’m not Catholic.”

  That set his smile loose. “I think they insist on that.”

  “Beyond that, they ask for poverty, chastity, obedience. I am obedient to a fault, and while I would always do my best to obey God no matter what I do with my life, I think I need to learn to obey people much less. I need to trust my own ideas of how to go on and stop letting people rule me. I’m all too ready to do as I’m told. Aunt Margaret would never abuse that, but many people would.”

  Like her husband. Had the man insisted on obedience to the point of being a tyrant?

  “What was your husband’s name?” As soon as he asked, he realized they hadn’t spoken one word about her husband while they discussed her putting on a habit. His question really had nothing to do with this, except Justin suspected it had a lot to do with it. And he wanted to put a name to the man for when he daydreamed about punching him.

  He had to clench his jaw to hide his anger and stop his demand to know if he’d ever put his hands on her in anger.

  Angie gave Justin a startled look, then replied, “It was Edward. Edward DuPree.” Then she kept on talking quickly. “And poverty is certainly no problem. I’ve managed to be poor with no effort on my part whatsoever.”

  “So poverty and obedience, but—”

  “But I’ve been married. So chastity isn’t possible, and I think it’s a very strong requirement.”

  Was it? What if a woman was widowed? Justin didn’t ask because he didn’t want to consider the idea, and he didn’t want to send her hunting for information. And mighty sudden he knew exactly why.

  They stood face-to-face between the shields of the two horses, the critters waiting patiently. Justin was less than a foot away from her. Then it was inches . . .

  “I think those are mighty good reasons, Angie. I’ve got one more mighty good reason you shouldn’t become a nun.”

  Her eyebrows quirked. “You do? What’s that?”

  Justin lowered his head and kissed her. His right palm settled on her cheek. He’d never kissed a woman before, but he showed a surprising talent for it. He pulled away before the kiss could deepen, scolding himself about being improper.

  He stood looking into her eyes on the cold December day. They were, for the moment, out of anyone’s gun range, and they didn’t have a horde of family and cowhands and nuns close around them. When had that ever happened before?

  “Justin.” His name was more breath than a word. Her hands rested on his chest as she pushed him away.

  It was a rejection, and the thought of it slashed through him like an ax. The pounding of hooves then broke them apart.

  They both whirled around. Someone was coming around a bend in the trail. Justin’s brain came out of its daze. They had no business lingering out here, in a place so exposed. Although he was having a hard time regretting the talk and especially the kiss.

  “Let’s mount up,” he told her.

  As Angie reached for the saddle horn, Justin saw her hands were shaking. He was all too happy to take her by the slender waist and lift her onto the horse. He made sure she was balanced, then quickly mounted his bay and they began walking forward, all without speaking. Justin had his hand on his Colt the entire time.

  A few minutes later, Doc Garner rounded the curve and drew up in front of them. The man looked exhausted.

  “If you’re headed out to our place, Doc,” Justin said, “I don’t think you need to bother. Cole’s up and doing well now. He’s gonna make it, Doc. We owe you our thanks. You pulled him through, and we all appreciate your help.”

  A genuine smile of pure relief lightened the doctor’s face. “I’m glad to hear he’s on the mend.”

  “I think we’re done dragging you out there so often.” Justin wondered if that was too optimistic. Pa had been bad hurt in the avalanche, Heath was shot not that long ago, then Cole. Maybe the doctor oughta drop by every few days from now on, just in case.

  Angie said, “He’s still moving slow, but other than that, it looks like he’ll be back to his old self real soon.”

  The doctor nodded. “Well, if you’re sure he’s all right, I think I’ll go on back to town and not take the long ride out. My wife is beginning to wonder what I look like.”

  “Head on back with our thanks, Doc.”

  The doctor gave Angie a curious look. “Is that why you’re riding to town? Because your work is done out at the Boden place?”

  “Yes, it’s time for me to get back to the orphanage.”

  “Then I can save you some riding, too, Justin. I can ride in with Angie, and you can head right back home.”

  Justin still had a lot to say to Angie and he wouldn’t mind seeing if she’d kiss him again. In fact, he wanted more time alone with her so bad he knew he needed to get away from her. He glanced at her, and she looked right back, a light pink blush on her cheeks.

  “Thank you, Dr. Garner,” she said with utter politeness. “I’m happy for your company.”

  The two rode off for town while Justin turned back to pass through the gauntlet again. He bent low over the saddle and galloped like mad. Trying to pound away his frustration and his wide-awake desire to keep Angie, a woman who looked to be the worst possible choice for a rancher’s wife, for himself and not let the doctor or an orphanage, and especially not a pair of kindhearted nuns, steal her away from him.

  There was another thought pestering him just as bad as he raced for home.

  Those snooty society types who’d made the rule about a man and woman riding alone together being improper knew exactly what they were talking about.

  14

  Cole got it in his head that he wanted to be upstairs in his own room, and Justin had his hands full getting him up there. The stubborn ox.

  He wouldn’t admit he oughta stay in Ma and Pa’s room. Justin didn’t blame him for wanting out of there. It was strange to take over their parents’ bed. Justin wouldn’t have liked it, and he understood why Cole didn’t.

  Justin offered to get a few men and carry him up. Cole acted like that’d shame him.

  They tried slinging his arm around Justin’s neck, but Cole almost collapsed in pain. In the end, Cole had walked all by himself. With Justin right behind him to catch him if he collapsed, which he never did. But Justin couldn’t exactly trust the ha
lf-wit to stay on his feet, now, could he?

  Finally, big brother was in his own bed, studying that notebook with the cramped handwriting. Maybe all of Cole’s years wasted in college when he could’ve been helping on the ranch might be worth something at last.

  Rosita and Sadie had changed sheets and tidied the room after Angie went back to Skull Gulch, and now they were working in Pa and Ma’s room. By the ruthless scrubbing going into the job, Justin could tell they were eager to leave this bad episode behind them.

  It was going to take more than a scrubbing to accomplish that.

  Cole held a small wooden desk, placed carefully on his lap. He took notes and read, scratched out what he wrote, then took more notes. He didn’t have time to talk, so Justin left him to it. Justin’s help probably would’ve just slowed him down. Instead, he tried to remember that he was running a cattle ranch.

  He was a fortunate man to have John for a foreman and Alonzo for a ramrod for this last spell. He’d spent all his time worrying over Cole. If not for their help, his cattle might’ve wandered all the way to Texas.

  Besides, if he tore that notebook out of Cole’s hands so he could read it himself, Cole wouldn’t have a job that’d keep him still. Justin had high hopes he could keep his brother in bed for a few more days. It was Thursday already, with Miss Maria’s funeral set for this afternoon, and Cole had admitted he wasn’t up to attending.

  They’d all ride to services on Sunday and see how Cole held up for that fairly easy ride. It was a long one, and with any luck it wouldn’t include a running gun battle.

  Once Sunday was over, Justin was firmly fixed on no more pestering of his big brother. He vowed he’d let Cole decide what he felt able to do, even if he did show the sense of a two-year-old child. But it was time to live in the present, not the future.

  He strode up to John. “What do you have planned for the rest of the morning? Tell me where to help.”

  With a tired smile, John said, “Your help would be greatly appreciated, Justin. We’ve let things slide around here. I’ve asked the men if any of them want to go to the funeral, but none knew Maria all that well. So work with us this morning, and then starting tomorrow we’ll get things back to normal.”

  While they saddled fresh horses side by side, Justin looked around the corral and didn’t see a single soul.

  “We’re most likely going to be one more man short,” he said to John.

  John’s brows lowered and wrinkles covered his brow. He had deep frown lines around his mouth. Justin realized with a pang that John was getting older, and because he was Pa’s age, that meant Pa and Ma were getting older, too. Justin went ahead and threw himself in the getting-older category, as well. Which for some reason made him think of Angie.

  “And why is that?” John asked.

  Justin forced his thoughts back to John. “Because it’s time to find out which man in our employ is a traitor.”

  “Alonzo is back. Is he still one you’re worried about?”

  “I don’t trust him, but that may not be deserved. I’m not sure enough where my troubles are coming from to fire one man and think it’s all over. So instead I’m going to set a trap.”

  John nodded, his mouth a grim line. “What do you have in mind, boss?”

  “Come in for supper tonight. I want Cole involved. Time for that boy to use his brain for something worthwhile.”

  John gave a hard jerk of his chin, accepting the invitation. “For now, we’ve got cattle on pasture that’s wearing out. I sent five men ahead to start moving them, but they’re shorthanded.”

  “Let’s ride,” Justin said. It felt good to be working again.

  Angie stood near Aunt Margaret and Sister Louisa at Maria’s funeral, the children at their sides.

  The Bodens had ridden into town. Justin nodded hello but stayed with his family at the graveside. The group paid their respects to Aunt Margaret, Louisa, and Angie and then rode back home.

  Ramone hadn’t come. Angie wasn’t sure if it was disrespect or just a man not up to facing more grief.

  The children were given quiet time for reading, and classes weren’t held for the rest of the day. Aunt Margaret sent Angie to pack things from Maria’s room. She looked for anything to give to Ramone, yet Maria had nothing anyone would describe as valuable.

  She folded a threadbare nightgown and three dark-colored dresses that were long past their prime. There were a few books that belonged on the bookshelves in the schoolroom. Then she drew open the top drawers in a small wooden chest. It contained underthings and a comb and hairpins. The room was the size of a prison cell. Aunt Margaret said she’d tried many times to get Maria to take a larger room.

  Angie wondered if Maria’s whole life hadn’t been about martyrdom. Had she felt born into shame? Did she believe she didn’t deserve even small comforts?

  The bottom drawer had similar humble things and of lighter weight, as if this was all she had for the blazing-hot summer months. When the drawer was nearly empty, a small stack of papers covered the bottom.

  With a quick prayer, Angie hoped for letters, some sign of a private friendship beyond the orphanage.

  Instead they were just a mix of useless old papers that looked like they’d ended up in Maria’s room somehow and been forgotten. Some were letters about the origin of the orphanage written from a priest. Father Wharton appeared to have been the clergyman in charge of this area, because the letters were about raising funds and sending children to stay. Interesting, but so old they were more pieces of history than anything to do with Maria.

  Angie heard children moving in the hall. They had a break for cake and milk every day at this time. Sister Margaret’s voice joined with the children, talking to Sister Louisa.

  “Aunt Margaret?” Angie waited for her sweet aunt to come in.

  With her head covered in her nun’s wimple and dressed in her black habit, Aunt Margaret came in, a sad expression on her face. She mourned Maria deeply. They’d been friends for thirty years.

  “How can I help, Angelique?”

  Angie winced inwardly. She had been so awful to Aunt Margaret for years. Her mother, then her husband, had demanded the distance, but Angie had gone along and wouldn’t excuse herself. It was a shameful thing. One of Angie’s rudenesses was to insist on being called Angelique. It was a much finer name than Angie, or so her mother had insisted, with Edward agreeing completely.

  Aunt Margaret had complied humbly to all their arrogance. She was trying to change to Angie now, but it was hard after years of being so careful.

  “Have you seen these?” Angie showed her the stack of papers from the drawer.

  Her aunt’s brow furrowed as she took the papers and studied them. “Why, I haven’t seen these in years. I knew they’d been misplaced, but in the constant swirl of duties, I’d forget for long stretches of time that I’d once had them.”

  “They were in Maria’s bottom drawer. I suspect she forgot she’d kept them.”

  Smiling, Aunt Margaret held them close to her chest. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “It’s a sad job, made much harder by the way Maria died. But the work isn’t difficult.”

  Nodding, Aunt Margaret’s eyes shifted to the few boxes of Maria’s things. “We will go through them. Perhaps some of her things might fit the older girls.” She hesitated, then said, “But they are worn and dark. The dreary clothes were a match for her temperament. I think it would be best to give them away elsewhere.” Margaret leaned forward to look in the drawer. “There is another paper at the very bottom.”

  Surprised, Angie studied the bottom. “I didn’t even notice it. It’s the same size and color as the drawer.” Angie tried to pick it up, but it was stiff, maybe from age. She pried at it with her fingernails, yet it would not come. Finally she pulled the whole drawer out. “I still can’t get it.”

  “Try loosening it with one of Maria’s hairpins.”

  There were a few resting on the top of the chest. Working at lifting a corner of t
he paper, she bent it enough to get ahold of it. She pulled the brittle paper out only to see it was a piece of wallpaper faded to an antique shade of white.

  “It’s just to line the bottom of the drawer. All that to remove a drawer liner.” Shaking her head, Angie grabbed the drawer to return it, and it swung a bit when she held the drawer with one hand.

  Aunt Margaret caught her arm. “What’s that?”

  Angie glanced at her aunt, then followed to where her eyes were fixed. The drawer. Aunt Margaret took the drawer and turned it completely over until they could see the underside. A large envelope was stuck to the bottom. The other papers they’d found might have been forgotten, but not this.

  Angie could see the envelope wasn’t yellowed with age. It had been put here recently enough, and Maria had to have hidden it herself. Angie looked at Aunt Margaret. “Why would she hide this?”

  Her always sensible aunt said, “Let’s find out.”

  Angie reached for it and realized her hand was trembling. For no rational reason, she was sure the envelope contained something important. Definitely something Maria didn’t want anyone to see. Angie tugged at it. It had been secured simply by being shoved into a back corner of the drawer. The wood held it on only two sides, so it lifted out easily.

  Angie extended the envelope to Aunt Margaret to open. But Margaret hesitated before taking it from her. Angie knew her aunt and Maria were old friends. Was Margaret afraid the letter would say something to show Maria in an unflattering way?

  The envelope had a strange address written on the outside. Aunt Margaret flipped it over, carefully folded back the flap, and withdrew a single sheet of paper. She set the envelope back on the chest and then unfolded the paper. Her look of nervous anticipation was replaced by a frown.

  “What in heaven’s name is this?” Aunt Margaret turned the paper so Angie could see it.

  It seemed to be a series of lines drawn on the paper. They were irregular, not a straight line or a square corner anywhere. The misshapen blocks had been placed side by side and filled nearly the whole page. The odd part was that the boxes had a bold, black X drawn through them.