Both women looked at each other and began to laugh. Noah wondered if he would ever understand women.
As they ate, Jenny explained how she’d dragged her feet in reaching the spot on Sam’s map where they hoped the treasure was buried. He saw the anxiety on her face as she told about running into the Purnell brothers. He recognized them from the descriptions she gave.
“It was frightening how fast he killed all three men. I knew then that nothing would stop him. At least until Noah arrived.”
He covered her hand with his. “That’s just three more charges of murder to add to his slate.” He gave her a reassuring look. “He will pay, honey. Texas will hang him from the highest noose.”
They bedded down for the night and all too soon, the morning light signaled his departure. Noah made sure everything was loaded and packed for the long trip to Texas.
Mo went out to get a good look at Riley, leaving them a private moment in which to say goodbye. Already, he missed her, a dull ache in his heart.
“So you’ll stay here with Mo.”
She nodded, her green eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
“It’ll give you time to get to know one another. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can. You know that?”
Jenny stared at his chest. “I know.”
He lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m a Ranger. The best there is.”
He kissed her, tenderly at first, not wanting to hurt her, but her mouth sparked feelings of fierce possessiveness within him. He wanted to leave her with something to remember him by.
Noah deepened the kiss, his tongue branding her, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she was his, for all time. He ran his hands up and down her arms, finally cupping them around her face.
“I’ll be back, sweetheart. I promise.” And with that, he left Prairie Dell with his prisoner in tow.
Jenny couldn’t shake the sudden chill that ran through her as Riley Withers smiled back at her.
CHAPTER 29
Jenny missed Noah, but she was grateful to have the time to get to know Mo. Her aunt was witty, irreverent, intelligent, and simply fun to be around. In the week that had passed, Jenny had grown very fond of her, as well as the people of Prairie Dell.
She’d never had a group welcome her with such open arms as did the denizens of this tiny town. All her life she wanted to be accepted for who she was. The town did just that, and she was quickly caught up in its daily affairs.
Mo was a voracious reader who collected newspapers from everyone who’d ever come in contact with Prairie Dell. Traders, travelers, customers—all shared their newspapers with her aunt. She had fun going back through the stacks, seeing America through the eyes of reporters twenty years ago.
At night, the two women carried on long conversations. She told Mo all about life at The Thompson School and working at the clinic for Dr. Randolph. In return, Mo regaled her with tales about life in County Cork and the various scams she and Sam pulled throughout the West in their heyday. Some of the stories were incredibly outlandish, but Mo swore they were all true.
As they sat in front of the fire after dinner one night, she expressed her longings.
“I feel I’m just beginning to know my father through your eyes.”
Mo smiled. “And he was a fine one indeed, love. Full of vim and vigor, with his sweet baritone and love for life. A scoundrel? Perhaps. But a happy one, nonetheless.”
Suddenly, Mo flashed a smile—a brilliant smile that gave Jenny a glimpse into the young woman she once had been before age and a hard life painted the deep wrinkles about her mouth and brow.
“I have a delicious idea, Niece.” She took Jenny’s hands in hers. “I know the best way of all for you to know yer da.” Mo squeezed her hands in delight. “His letters!”
Mo released her hands and went to her storage chest. She rooted around in it until she came up with a thick bundle of letters tied with a faded ribbon. She held them up triumphantly.
“Sammy done wrote these to me over the years. I know he wouldn’t mind me sharin’ them with his gel.”
Mo offered her the packet of letters. Jenny reached out tentatively and took them. She placed them in her lap and stared at them, wondering if she should read them.
“Go ahead. You’ll see yer da in a way few children can.”
Probably forty or fifty letters total stared back at her. She carefully opened the first one. Soon she was engrossed in her father’s life.
The first few were written after he’d gone back East. He’d met Suzannah almost immediately after he arrived in New York. They fell hopelessly in love. When Suzannah’s father denied his only daughter marriage with a penniless stranger, the couple defied him and eloped. Later, they married in the Church, but Suzannah’s parents were unforgiving souls.
Sam’s love for his wife poured off each page he’d written and was only surpassed when he wrote his sister of his daughter’s birth.
Mo –
You won’t believe her beauty. I’ve never seen anything so tiny and so incredibly wonderful. She has Suzannah’s looks, the bright green eyes, and she already has a head full of hair. The sweetest disposition of any babe born on earth.
She is a McShanahan, though, mark my words. She is long for a babe—at least that’s what they tell me—so I know she’ll have our family’s height. Her fingers and toes are long and elegant. I could go on about her for days. I don’t know how we’ll manage, but you’ve got to meet her someday.
He went on to write about how ill Suzannah became. How each breath was a labored one. At her death, his emptiness made Jenny’s heart ache. Not one letter went by after that where he did not mention his beloved wife and all she meant to him.
Sam’s pride in his only child took up the majority of the letters that came afterward. He wrote verbatim what her teachers reported to him, how fast her progress was, what a good student she’d become. He rarely told Mo where he was or what he’d been up to, but every letter raved about Jenny and her accomplishments at school.
The candle burned low by the time she finished. She knew she’d re-read them again before she left Prairie Dell. When she did leave, however, she’d take a piece of her father in her heart. It still hurt that he’d left her, but she’d been truly blessed to have a parent who cared so for her. It was bittersweet, though, knowing she’d never be able to place her arms about his neck and tell him in person—just once—how much she loved him.
Mo was already fast asleep, snoring lightly, when she blew out the candle and went to bed. Jenny said a quick prayer for Noah’s safe return and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
At breakfast the next day, Jenny thanked Mo for sharing the letters with her. “I saw things I would never have been able to see, thanks to you.” She placed her hand over her aunt’s and gave it a quick squeeze. “It was like traveling back in time. I could picture Sam at different places in his life. That was a very special thing for you to do, Mo.” She brushed a quick kiss on her aunt’s cheek.
Mo sighed. “I take them out every now and then and read them myself. It does take a person back.” She brightened. “I read Noah’s letters, too.”
“Noah wrote you?”
“Oh, many times. Maybe you’d like to read those, too?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s not like with Papa’s.” She thought on it. “I do wish I knew him better.”
Mo slapped her hand on the table. “Then that settles it.” She returned to her chest and shifted items around. This time she brought up two separate packets.
“Noah was a much steadier writer than your da.” She smiled fondly at the stacks. “Before you read them . . . I just want you to realize what a special boy he was. He was growin’ up as he wrote these letters, Jenny. He’s grown into a wonderful man. I’m sure you’ll agree with
that.”
She beamed at her aunt. “I can attest to that.”
“Well, I’m needin’ to get ready for my poker game. Why don’t you help fix me up? You’ll have the place all to yourself then.”
She helped Mo choose a gown, along with a matching bonnet and eye patch. It amused her how Mo wore a serviceable black patch on a daily basis, yet on poker day, she needed to be outfitted in one that matched her attire.
After Mo left, Jenny settled in with another cup of coffee, stealing one of Buffy’s sugar lumps to sweeten the strong, steaming liquid. She opened the first of well over a hundred letters Noah wrote to Mo over the years. The neat, schoolboy hand had given in to a heavy scrawl over time, but she heard his voice as she read. She knew from the previous night that Mo had all the notes in chronological order, and she was careful to keep them arranged that way.
Much of his correspondence made her hurt. He was a lonely boy, guilt-ridden because he couldn’t change his father from being a career criminal and his mother from being bitter over her marriage to such a man. She’d lost her family with her hasty elopement, just as Suzannah had, and it was something Sarah Webster never got over.
She drove Noah hard. Maybe because he was the oldest, but he shared a heavy burden as the man of the house at a tender age. Noah never seemed to blame his mother for her feelings, but she subconsciously instilled in him notions of worthlessness, simply because his father was Pistol Pete Webber.
Mrs. Webster also drove her son to pursue education as much as possible. They never were in a place long enough for him to attend school for any length of time, but she was a well-educated woman in her own right, and she passed along her learning to her eldest child.
He’d been very close with his brother and sister, but it seemed he’d never made any friends. He wanted so much to help support his family—to keep them in one place—that he was willing to do anything to achieve that, even if it meant giving up his own stability by pushing cattle to market.
He wrote from the cattle drives, late at night, around the dying campfire. While the other cowboys slept, Noah wrote to Mo and dreamed of another life, one that would curb his wanderlust and prove that he could be a decent man.
Then the tone of the letters changed. An excitement filled them. He’d met a Texas Ranger.
Mo –
I can’t really explain it yet. The words haven’t even formed in my own mind, else I could get them down better on paper for you. But this Ranger seemed a giant of a man, though he’s not much taller than I am. Yet he commanded a respect beyond measure. I wish I could pursue something like that. To be on the right side of law. To do good for others. I know I would be a better man for it.
Finally, the letter came that told Mo he had signed on as a Ranger.
I am convinced that I’ve found my life’s work, Mo. They weren’t just impressed by my shooting skills or my book knowledge (which I have to thank Mama for), but by me! I have finally found something I excel at. Something that makes me feel alive. Something I can take pride in. I promise you that nothing—nothing—will ever take me away from this life of Rangering. I’d be miserable otherwise.
This thought echoed time and again in the letters Noah sent after joining up with the Rangers. He wrote of cases he handled, of men he’d brought to justice. Of the happiness he experienced as he helped others. No vanity or conceit was involved, just a deep, abiding respect for his office and what he accomplished every day.
And he was giving it all up. Because of her.
Her throat was thick with unshed tears when Mo returned, earlier than usual, a dusting of snowflakes in her hair. Jenny had re-bundled the letters and placed them back in Mo’s trunk.
“What’s wrong, gel?”
“What do you think being a Ranger means to Noah?”
Mo grew thoughtful. “I’d say it means more to him that anything on this earth. He’s made for it. It’s a hard life, but the one for him.” She paused. “He’s always thought he needed to prove something to the world because he sprang from Pete’s bad blood. Rangering lets him lend people a hand. Gives him self-respect. I can’t see him doing anything else.”
Jenny pondered on Mo’s words the remainder of the day. She continued to turn it over in her mind long after they bedded down and her aunt’s snores began. She wrestled all night with the quick decision Noah had made by choosing her over being a Texas Ranger. She understood why he believed he must give it up. Rangers dealt with dangerous criminals and savage Indian tribes as they tried to protect the citizens of their state. If he remained a Ranger, he would be gone more often than he was at home and in peril at every turn. By sacrificing his career, he thought he was doing what was right for their relationship.
She couldn’t live with that.
Jenny made the only choice she could as the sun rose. She refused to take Noah away from the only life he loved, one that gave him value and worth in his eyes. She wouldn’t selfishly keep him from doing what made him happy. If they married, he’d never forgive her for having to abandon what he was meant to do. He would repeatedly tell her it didn’t matter, but she knew his love for her would turn bitter as the years passed. He’d long to return to what he loved best—serving the law—despite being shackled to her side. And she wanted the best for him.
So much that she would give him up.
CHAPTER 30
A sudden rap at the door startled her. Her emotions raw at the moment, she tossed off her blanket and walked reluctantly to the door. She’d just made the biggest decision of her life, one that already brought a twisting agony to her insides. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for entertaining company before breakfast.
She opened the door and was hit with an arctic blast of cold. A stranger stood there—clean-shaven, wavy blond hair, his hat in his hand.
“Miss McShanahan?”
She was taken aback that he knew her name, then realized he might be referring to Mo.
“Yes, I’m one of them. Please come in.” She stood aside and let the man enter and quickly shut the door to block out the frigid temperature. The fire flickered slightly from the sudden draft.
“I have a check for Miss Jenny McShanahan.” The man reached into his inside pocket and extracted an envelope. She saw the bold handwriting and instantly recognized it as Noah’s.
“Ma’am, this is from—”
“I know who it is from, sir.” She took it from his outstretched hand and held it in front of her. She was curious that Noah would write so soon. Only a week had passed. He would have had to write the missive almost immediately after departing. She wondered, too, about the hand delivery. She was afraid to open it.
“Won’t you come warm yerself by the fire, young man?” Mo motioned him over. “I bet a good cuppa coffee would hit the spot.”
He smiled eagerly. “Yes, ma’am, it would. I’m Ted. Ted Simmons.”
“Well, pull on up, Ted Simmons, and give us the latest gossip. Word doesn’t always reach Prairie Dell in a timely manner.” Her aunt gazed at the newcomer greedily. “You wouldn’t happen to have a newspaper on you?”
Ted nodded. “In my saddle bags, ma’am. Mr. Webster warned me to come prepared. Let me fetch it while you get that coffee.” He pulled his coat about him and left to retrieve the paper.
Jenny went over to the cot for a little privacy and sat as Mo prepared the coffee. Her hand moved over the envelope in her lap. It was so like all the ones she had read yesterday. Before she could embarrass herself by bursting into tears, she tore open the envelope and removed the contents inside.
She pulled out a check, the finder’s fee for the return of the money and bonds that Sam had stolen. Made out to her. She was surprised at the generous amount. Even when split equally between her and Mo, it was a generous sum.
Noah had enclosed a brief note to her.
Jen
ny –
Wanted you and Mo to have this reward money as soon as possible. I know it’s not exactly what Sam planned for either of you, but at least the money’s honestly gained. Can’t say how long I’ll be. Withers is a pain in the rear. Nothing I can’t handle, though.
I plan to stay for his trial. I think I owe that much to Pete. As soon as it’s finished, I’ll make my way back to Prairie Dell.
I miss you, Jenny. You’re in my every waking thought.
With all my love,
Noah
She kept to herself while Mo conversed with their visitor. Ted finally begged off having breakfast with them and left three fairly recent newspapers in Mo’s proud possession. She flipped through them excitedly as they ate, pointing out first one item and then another.
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