“Brand’s dismissal?” Laura almost dropped the rice Harrison handed her before she passed it to Rodrigo.
Brand had been right. It was worse than she thought.
A cold chill ran down her spine. If only there was something she could do to help.
She was the last person on earth Brand needed to fight his cause.
She couldn’t wait to finish the marketing and get back home. There had been a few passing showers that morning so the street was not fit for walking. As she rode back in the buggy beside Rodrigo, she happened to glance down the alley between the Silver Slipper and the land office and see a man slumped over in the mud. He appeared to be out cold.
She’d only gotten a glimpse, but she thought she recognized his clothing. She was almost certain it was Jesse Langley. “Turn right at the corner, Rodrigo, and go around behind the back of the buildings.” She inched up to the edge of the seat, impatient to see if she was right.
“Stop between the saloon and the land office,” she told him. “That’s it, right here. Look.” She pointed down the alley.
“A man, señora. Do you think he is dead?”
“I hope not.” She looked around, then quickly climbed down out of the buggy. Thankfully, there weren’t many people out and about in the weather. She heard Rodrigo call for her to stop.
She hitched up the hem of her skirt and hurried toward the fallen man with Rodrigo close behind. He complained all the while, grumbling how she should have at least waited in the buggy.
Sure enough, when she reached the man slumped over on the ground, it turned out to be Jesse Langley. His hat was lying upside down in the dirt. An empty whiskey bottle lay on the ground beside his outstretched hand.
“Can you lift him?”
“He is muddy.” Rodrigo sounded less than enthusiastic.
“I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
“It is not that, señora—”
“Please, just carry him to the buggy.”
“He smells like a cantina.”
She paused, smiling to lessen the impact of her words. “Am I in charge here, or are you?”
Rodrigo shook his head. “I am trying to look out for you, señora.”
“Another time, perhaps, Rodrigo. For now, tote this young man to the buggy. Let’s get him out of here before someone sees us.”
Rodrigo grabbed one of Jesse’s lifeless arms and hefted him to his shoulder. Laura grabbed his hat and hurried after them. When they arrived at the buggy, Rodrigo dumped Jesse in back like a sack of grain as Laura climbed aboard.
Back at the boardinghouse, Laura instructed Rodrigo to drive inside the carriage house before he unhitched the horse. She didn’t want anyone to see them unload their unconscious cargo.
“Where should I put him?” Rodrigo was still notably unhappy about the situation.
“Leave him in the buggy for now. I’m going inside to get a cot and some bedding, then we’ll put him in the tack room.”
She hurried inside and began to rummage through a storeroom for one of the folding cots she kept for families with extra children. Anna brought her a stack of fresh sheets and a blanket and Laura hurried back outside.
Rodrigo had the horse unhitched and was waiting by the buggy.
“He’s going to get the sheets all muddy,” the cook said.
“That’s why you’re going to undress him first. When I’ve got the bed ready, you can carry him in. Dump his dirty clothes in a pile and I’ll put them in a wash tub to soak.”
“All of them?”
“All.” Before she turned to head into the tack room, she tossed Rodrigo the blanket. “Wrap him in that.”
She made up the bed herself. Anna could sweep and dust the tack room later. Although…that was a task Jesse Langley could attend to himself—if he decided to stay on.
Once Rodrigo deposited Jesse on the cot, Laura went to look in on him. It would be a few hours before he slept off the influence of the liquor. No telling how much he’d had. She doubted he’d stopped at one bottle after the scene he’d made at the church, the culmination of a life of anger toward Brand.
On close inspection, he was as handsome as she remembered given her brief look at him. He had black hair that curled softly, like Brand’s, though he wore it long; it hung past his shirt collar. His skin was a shade darker than Brand’s, his eyes slightly almond shaped. Any woman would envy his thick, dark lashes.
She smoothed his hair back off his forehead, wondering what would become of him. At least he was safely out of the alley. Whether or not he could pick up the pieces of his life and go on was anyone’s guess.
The same could be said for all of them.
“He’s awake,” Anna told Laura four hours later. “I hear him making a noise like this.” She proceeded to groan.
Laura laughed. “I can imagine he’s not feeling very well right now.” She gave instructions to ready a tray and told Anna that she would deliver it herself.
After seeing some new arrivals settled upstairs, Laura went back to the kitchen and found the tray ready.
“You want me to go with you?” Rodrigo started to untie his apron.
“I can manage. I doubt he could stand up to anyone at this point.” She didn’t mention she had tucked her derringer into the pocket of her apron.
Outside the door of the tack room, she heard Jesse Langley moan. Anna had done a fine imitation. She balanced the tray on one arm, knocked twice, and then let herself in.
He was lying on the cot with one arm thrown over his eyes. The blanket was pulled up, revealing only his bare shoulders.
“Whoever you are, go away,” he mumbled.
“Sit up.” She walked over to the cot and nudged it with her knee. “Now.”
One bloodshot eye peered out from beneath his arm.
“Stop yelling,” he whispered.
“I’m not yelling. Sit up.”
“Where are my clothes?”
“Being laundered. We left some things for you.” She nodded toward a pile that contained a pair of pants and a shirt donated by the Hernandez men. “Those will do until yours are ready.”
“Who are you, lady?”
“My name is Laura Foster. I’m the one who dragged your sorry self out of the mud in the alley. Now sit up. This tray is heavy.”
He wrestled around until he was sitting up with his back propped against the wall. He was careful to keep the blanket firmly in place. She wouldn’t have guessed he was the modest type.
He squinted against the sunlight coming through a window set high on the wall.
“Headache?” she asked as she set the tray on his lap. He took one look at the plate of bacon and eggs along with a tall glass of tomato juice and paled.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Get this down and you’ll feel better in no time. Guaranteed.”
“You an expert on hangovers?” He looked skeptical.
“Just trust me.”
“I can’t stomach any of this.”
“Start with the juice.” She paced over to the workbench, unfolded a denim work shirt, and held it up. “This should fit.” She draped it across the pile of pants and long johns before she turned around again. He’d drained the tomato juice.
“Now wait a minute or two and then eat the bacon and eggs. You need some grease on your stomach.”
“What do you care anyway?”
“I know your father.”
She thought it impossible for him to grow any paler, but he went gray and started to push the tray aside.
She walked over to the bed and put her hand on the top of his head and held him there. “Don’t even think about getting up yet.”
“Why not?
“One, I don’t want you heaving all over the place. Two, you’re stark naked under that blanket.”
“Please, get your hand offa my head,” he groaned. “It’s killing me.”
“Stay put and hear me out. Please.”
He pulled the tray up, picked up a piece of baco
n and sniffed it. Took a bite, chewed, swallowed.
“You say you know McCormick.” His eyes narrowed. “You his wife?”
“I’m just a friend. He’s a widower.”
Jesse snorted in satisfaction.
“I was there in church yesterday when you made your grand entrance.” Laura said.
He didn’t look up this time but concentrated on the tray.
“You caused quite a stir. Thanks to you, the reverend could lose his position here.”
“You think I’m sorry?”
“You might feel justified, but he doesn’t deserve to be ousted. He’s a fine, upstanding man with two children and a sister who depend on him. He claims he tried to find your mother. He says he wanted to marry her, but she’d disappeared.”
“Words are cheap.”
“What are you planning to do now? Stay drunk until you run out of money?”
When he looked up, there was a bleakness in his eyes. “I’m already about out of money.”
“I’ll bet you never thought past that grand scene in the church. Not only have you embarrassed and possibly ruined Brand, but you have nowhere to go. What’s left of your life now that you had your revenge?”
“He paying you to torture me? Is that it? As soon as I’ve eaten, I’ll be on my way.”
“Where to?”
“That’s none of your business, is it?”
“What if I make it my business?”
“You got a smart mouth, lady.”
“So I’ve been told. Do you have any money? Do you even have a horse?”
“I’ve got a little money left. I’m hoping my horse is still hitched outside the saloon. At least it was yesterday.”
Her insomnia had given her hours to think about what had happened in the church, about this young man and his impact on Brand’s life—and Brand’s on his. It was a safe bet Jesse had spent his childhood dreaming of confronting his father. She’d spent hers seeking another kind of revenge, planning her future and that of her sisters. She’d been bound and determined to show the world that she didn’t need help from anyone but herself. That she could succeed on her own.
But if Jesse Langley left Glory now, wallowing in self-pity, he’d most likely end up a wastrel or dead. He and Brand would never have a chance to reconcile either.
“If I offered you a job, you could stay on in Glory for a while.”
“What makes you think I want to stay here?”
She took a deep breath. “Your father is here. You’ve spent a year looking for him. Why walk away now?”
“Because I hate him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t want to know him.”
She searched his face. “I don’t believe you,” she said softly. “I think you’re here because you’ve wanted to know him all of your life.”
“You’re living in a dream world.” He picked up the fork, ignoring her as he dug into the fried eggs.
“I’ve got to get back to the house,” she said.
“Where am I, anyway?”
“In the carriage house of my boardinghouse. It’s at the end of Main Street.” She headed for the door, turned and paused. “How about you finish up, change into these clothes, and at least stick around until your laundry is finished tomorrow. By then you might have changed your mind about working for me.”
“Doing what?”
“Odd jobs.” She was certain she and Rodrigo could come up with something before tomorrow.
Langley didn’t respond as he finished up the last of the eggs.
“Don’t forget about your horse,” she reminded him.
She left him without a good-bye. To her way of thinking, she’d already done much more than she intended for Brand’s illegitimate son. He was just one more person she had to convince herself she cared nothing about.
TWELVE
It was no surprise to Laura when Jesse came to her the next morning and agreed to stay on. One day at a time was all he could promise. She said she understood but didn’t explain how. She’d been living one day at a time for as long as she could remember.
He collected his horse and stabled it in the carriage house while Laura consulted with Anna and Rodrigo and came up with a list of chores that Jesse could tend to. She thought about the gazebo she’d always wanted and asked if he did any carpentry.
“I can do just about anything. Had to. Grew up making ends meet.” His barb was obvious, but Laura ignored the attitude.
Laura hadn’t seen nor heard from Brand again, which was a relief. She had no notion of how he would react to her taking Jesse in. She was writing out the menu that morning when someone tapped on the front door. By the time she reached the entry hall, the tapping had turned to pounding.
She brushed the lace curtain aside and found herself peering down at Sam and Janie.
“We thought you weren’t home,” Janie explained when Laura asked why they were beating her door to death.
She ushered them in, expecting Brand to come up the walk behind them, but Brand wasn’t there. She looked up and down the street.
“Where’s your father?”
Janie shrugged. “He told us to go outside and not to make any noise.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No,” Janie said.
“Yes,” Sam said at the same time.
“Sam?” Laura crossed her arms and stared down at him.
“Well, I kind of told him we were going to walk over and see you.”
“Kind of?”
“Kind of softly,” he admitted.
The children looked more disheveled than usual. Janie’s hair had been braided but more strands were sticking out of the braids than in. Sam had a dirty smudge around his mouth. He had on short pants and one of his socks was sagging down his leg. One suspender was missing entirely. Janie’s sash was untied and trailing behind her.
“Where is your aunt?” Laura led them to the kitchen table where she’d been working on her menu for next week.
“Mostly in her room bawlin’.” Sam had wandered into the dining room and had his nose pressed to the glass in the breakfront cabinet where Laura kept her china.
She walked over to him, gently pulled him back, and used her sleeve to wipe off the spot left by his nose.
“You sure got lots of dishes,” he said as she led him back into the kitchen.
“Is our brother here?” Janie had already made herself at home at the table.
Laura paused. “Your brother?”
“The man who came to the church on Sunday. Papa told us that he was our half brother and we wanna see him,” Sam said.
“How do you know he’s here?”
Sam wandered around the kitchen. “Yesterday at the mercantile we heard Mr. Barker tell Papa that Mr. Rodrigo said Jesse Langley was here.”
Laura wondered why Hank bothered to print the Gazette when Harrison Barker was perfectly capable of spreading the news.
“Is he?” Janie had her elbows on the table and her chin propped on her fists.
“He is.” Laura wasn’t about to deny it to them and lose their trust.
“Can we see him?”
“He’s busy right now.”
“Doing what?”
“Cleaning the tack room. After that he’s going to muck out the stalls in the carriage house.”
Jesse had done every task she’d given him over the past two days without complaint. He kept to himself, ate his meals in the tack room, and didn’t engage in conversation with anyone. Silent and sullen, but he was still there. She tried to imagine Jesse face-to-face with Brand’s other children.
She looked down at Janie and Sam, wondering if it would do them more harm than good to meet Jesse.
Glancing out the window toward the carriage house, she thought of Jesse. He’d searched for Brand for a year. Fed on revenge and hate. Now he was left with nothing but anger and loneliness. She knew them both well, but she had replaced them with something tangible. She’d built a
new life for herself. Yes, loneliness still had a way of creeping up on her, even with a house full of guests. Still and all, she believed anger was a waste of time. The sooner Jesse learned that the better.
She suspected that no matter how much he protested otherwise, he wanted to get to know Brand. Perhaps even be a part of his life.
These children were Jesse’s kin. Maybe they would prove to be the bridge between Brand and Jesse.
There was only one way to find out.
“I’ll introduce you to him on one condition.” She walked to the dry sink where Rodrigo kept a dishpan full of soapy water.
“What is it?” Sam crossed the room and waited beside her.
“You let me clean you both up a bit first.”
A few minutes later, the dirty smudges on Sam’s face were gone. He was spit shined and polished, his hair still damp from where she’d wet it down so that she could part it. He’d been remarkably still the entire time.
“How old are you, Sam?” Laura asked as she held him at arm’s length, inspecting her workmanship.
“Nine.”
“Hmm.” She made a great show of frowning.
“What are you thinking, Mrs. Foster?”
“Oh, just that you’re old enough to make sure you look presentable before you leave the house. Anyone who’s a man of his word should be manly about other things. Like washing his face and making certain his clothes are neatly worn.”
“He doesn’t wash behind his ears, either,” Janie piped up. She took his place before Laura, ready for her turn.
Laura dipped a rag into the dishpan, wrung it out, and caught Janie’s chin gently between her fingers. She tipped the child’s face up. Her hand faltered as she stared down into Janie’s innocent blue eyes. She had to take a deep breath, to steel herself and keep moving as if her heart wasn’t aching with heavy memories of lining up her sisters and doing the same for them.
“You look funny,” Janie said as Laura rubbed the rag around her hairline.
“I was just thinking,” Laura said. “Or trying not to, actually.”
“About what?” Sam asked.
“Something I don’t like to remember.”
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