Heart of Stone

by Jill Marie Landis

  She followed Betty Jean along the upstairs hall and then down the stairs. The heat rising from the kitchen was a welcome relief. In no time at all she’d have to shed her sweater.

  Betty Jean pointed toward a group of men at a table near the stairs. “See what you can do for them, honey,” she said before she left Laura’s side and headed across the room.

  Even the heady aroma of venison stew couldn’t tempt Brand into taking another bite. Jesse, on the other hand, was having no trouble shoveling it in. When he finished with his own bowl, he nodded toward Brand’s.

  “Go ahead. Have at it,” Brand said, sliding the bowl across the table. Jesse broke off another hunk of sourdough and dipped it into the thick gravy.

  Brand looked up and found the waitress back at his elbow. “I’m going back to the kitchen. Laurel will be helping you folks.” She had a curious expression on her face as she nodded across the dining room.

  As she walked away, Brand had a clear view of the interior of the café. He noted the appreciative stares of the enlisted and other men around the room, followed their gazes, and found himself staring at Laura.

  All breath left him.

  “Hey, Miss Laurel. Evenin’,” one of the soldiers said. “It’s about time you showed up. You know we’re all here just for the pleasure of seeing you.” There was nothing impolite about the way the solider addressed her, only the deepest admiration and respect.

  Laura’s smile lit up the room. She was thinner, but her dimpled grin was her own. More than that, there was a new, radiant peacefulness about her.

  “Thank you kindly, Private Tipton,” she said. “Now what’ll you gentlemen have tonight? Stew or meatloaf?”

  Laurel.

  Laura.

  He’d found her.

  She knew each man at the table by name. She smiled politely, but demurely. Her hair—he’d never seen it so severely styled—was braided and pinned atop her head. He missed her curls and found himself wishing he had the right to walk across the room, take her hair down, and separate the braided strands into a fine, shimmering nimbus.

  Content to watch her, he remained as still as the frozen sleet caught in the nooks and crannies outside the adobe. Rather than risk a scene, he chose to wait until she noticed him.

  Everything he’d practiced saying for when he found her left him. All he could do was drink in the sight of her and say a silent prayer of thanks.

  “You wanna pick your jaw up off the table?” Jesse paused with a spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth to stare at Brand. “What’s wrong?”

  When Brand didn’t answer, Jesse looked back over his shoulder to see what had caught Brand’s eye.

  Laura had learned to become aware of every nuance of movement at the tables. When customers turned to look for her, it was because they needed something—more coffee, some water, another helping of food.

  She scanned the tables, immediately arrested when her gaze stopped on the familiar face of a young man. His dark hair was long enough to skim his shoulders. His eyes were black. She watched them widen in disbelief.

  Jesse Langley.

  When she realized it really was Jesse, her breath caught and her heart began to pound. Everything around her—all movement, all sound—faded. Slowly, slowly, she raised her eyes and looked past Jesse to the man across the table from him.

  Broad shouldered, the same full mouth and strong jaw, but with eyes of blue.

  Brand.

  Without warning, the room started to spin. Laura reached out to steady herself. She ended up planting both hands on the nearest table. She closed her eyes and hung her head, hoping the dizzy spell would fade.

  The soldier seated beside her was on his feet in an instant, helping her into his vacated chair.

  “You all right, Miss Laurel?” he asked.

  She tried to nod while keeping her head down. Maybe it was her imagination. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, showing her what she wanted more than anything else in the world.

  She was afraid to look up. Afraid Brand wasn’t really there at all.

  Beside her, the soldier stepped away and someone else took his place.

  “Laura? Are you all right?”

  There was no denying the sound of Brand’s voice. The warm, solid touch of his hand on her shoulder. She felt it though her sweater and the fabric of her gown. She would know his touch above all others.

  She took a deep breath and found the courage to lift her head, to look into the depths of his eyes and search his face. She reached out. Her hand shook as she touched the cuff of his sleeve, not daring to let her fingers graze the skin on the back of his wrist.

  “Is it really you?” she whispered.

  He nodded. Slowly smiled.

  “How did you find me?” In her heart she knew how he had found her and she knew why.

  “It wasn’t easy,” he said.

  The soldiers at the table were hanging on every word. The man who had given up his seat leaned over Brand.

  “Are you all right, Miss Laurel? Is this man bothering you?”

  “No,” she said, not daring to take her eyes off Brand lest he disappear. “He’s not bothering me.”

  Now Betty Jean was there, too, hovering behind Brand. The lines on her forehead were drawn into the deep creases of a frown. She instructed Brand, “Take her into the sitting room behind the stairs. I’ll be in as soon as I can manage.” She looked Laura over. “If that’s all right with you, Laurel?”

  “Of course. It’s fine, but—” Her gaze scanned the crowded room. The men waiting to be served were all watching. She smiled, hoping to reassure everyone she was fine.

  Brand slipped his arm beneath her elbow and helped her to her feet. She didn’t take a step until she was certain her legs weren’t going to give out. She tried to walk and was forced to grab hold of Brand’s jacket. Before she could protest, he picked her up in front of everyone and carried her over to the room just beneath the stairs.

  There was a small fireplace built into the far wall, which was crowded with heavy furniture fashioned of knobby wooden branches. Burning mesquite gave off a piquant scent. The thick adobe walls retained the heat. The warmth in the room would have been a welcome relief if not for the fact that Laura felt so flushed.

  Brand carried her to an overstuffed chair covered with a striped serape and set her down.

  “Jesse is here too” she marveled, not knowing what else to say.

  “Wolfing down the last of my stew like a starving man.” Brand glanced at the door. He’d left it partially open.

  Always thinking of me, she thought. Of my reputation.

  She tried to stop smiling but couldn’t. She had missed this man terribly, but hadn’t realized how very much until now.

  “Please, sit down,” she urged. He chose the chair beside hers.

  Before either could speak, Betty Jean appeared bearing a tray with two mugs of hot tea. Laura tried to rise.

  “You shouldn’t be waiting on me with that crowd out there.”

  Betty Jean waved her back down. “They’ll wait.”

  She turned to Brand. “Mind if I send your boy in, Reverend? He’s paid the bill and I’m afraid if he stays out there alone much longer, things might go bad. None of the men have taken too kindly to Laurel looking so undone.”

  “Of course. Send him in.” Brand accepted the tea tray and Betty Jean walked out again. “Things aren’t all that comfortable for Jesse in a town like this—with the fort so close by and all the soldiers around.”

  “I imagine not.” Laura had overheard enough snatches of the enlisted men’s conversations to know why. “These men are paid to fight the Comanche. To keep the peace in these parts. It’s not easy.”

  She drank in the sight of him, still finding it nigh impossible that he was here.

  When Jesse walked through the door, Brand fell silent. Laura tried to smile up at the young man who looked so much like his father and yet so different.

  “You both should leave as soon as
possible,” she said softly.

  “I’m not leaving without you,” Brand told her.

  With his back to them, Jesse hovered near the fireplace and rubbed his hands together. Brand noticed his son’s discomfort.

  “Do you know of a place where we can spend the night?” Brand asked.

  She contemplated his question. The soldiers would have to be back at the fort within a few hours. There was no hotel, no boardinghouse. The stage depot, like most, was nothing more than a one-room adobe. She doubted Jesse would be welcome there.

  “There’s a house not far from the south edge of town. Surrounded by a low adobe wall. The Garcias will take you in for the night. Señor Garcia is a hunter who sells game to the Franks—the owners of this place. Tell him that…” She hesitated. “Tell him you’re friends of Laurel’s.”

  “Laurel,” he said.

  She shrugged. “It was close enough to Laura.”

  Across the room, Jesse said, “I’ll go ahead and find the Garcia place and wait for you there.” He gave Brand a nod and headed out a side door.

  Laura’s gaze followed him.

  “He’ll be all right,” Brand assured her. “Despite how he chose to announce his arrival in Glory, he’s got a level head on his shoulders.”

  “I know that. I’m just surprised to see you two together.” She didn’t admit that she was shocked to see them at all, let alone together.

  “You wanted us to get to know each other.”

  “I’m glad you’re on good terms.”

  She thought of Jesse in a town full of enlisted men stationed at nearby Fort Stockton. Men who had battled the Comanche as recently as August. Men who had seen their comrades fall in skirmishes all over southwest Texas. “You should probably leave here as soon as you can,” she urged again.

  “That’s up to you now. I’m not going anywhere until you agree to come back with me.” He leaned forward in his chair, reached for her hand, and covered it with his.

  “What happened with your congregation?”

  She watched him wrestle with the answer.

  “I resigned,” he said.

  “Oh, Brand. No.”

  “They asked me to stay. Finding you was more important.”

  “I won’t come between you and your church.”

  “Say you’ll marry me, Laura.”

  “I won’t let you trade the life you’ve built for me. Please, Brand, don’t do this.”

  “Then don’t give up your dream to spare me, Laura.” He sounded angry, frustrated by her refusal to give in. “Don’t walk away from everything you’ve built. Your home, your business—”

  She looked at his hand, so tan against her own. “You still want to marry me, knowing the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “You would still marry me knowing I didn’t hold to your beliefs? That I was sitting in your church on Sundays just to keep up appearances, but I wasn’t a believer?”

  “I know in my heart that we’ve been brought together for a reason. I’m the one man who can not only love you but help you find forgiveness.”

  “I saw the revulsion in your eyes, Brand. I saw the horror mirrored there the day I told you the truth—”

  “Shock, not revulsion. Not aimed at you. Not ever.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Above all, he deserved the truth.

  “The night before I left, I tried to pray, Brand. I asked for a sign, something, anything to show me the way, but nothing happened and I left you. But being here alone, not as Laura or Lovie, without the trappings of wealth, I found honest work for an honest wage. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the woman you think I am. This person you call Laura Foster. I’m trying to find the courage and faith I need to believe in forgiveness, and the strength to fight for the right to be with you, as your wife.”

  She reached out to cup his cheek. “I’m slowly finding my way, Brand. If you’ll still have me, I’ll marry you,” she whispered.

  Reaching for her, he cupped the back of her head in his palm and kissed her. This time he held nothing back. In his kiss she felt not only respect and reverence, but desire.

  “Thank you,” he whispered afterward. “Thank you for making me the happiest man on earth. We can do this, Laura. Together and with God’s help, we can do anything.”

  “I won’t hide behind a lie any longer, though.” she said. “The truth has to come out.”

  “Just promise you’ll let me be the one to tell your story.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, pressing her palm against his cheek.

  There was nothing she wouldn’t promise this man who had given her everything simply by loving her.

  A branch crackled and popped in the fireplace. Sparks shot out, fell harmlessly upon the hard-packed earthen floor of the adobe. Outside, darkness shadowed the land. Through a narrow window in the thick wall, Brand saw that the sky had cleared. Stars glimmered exceptionally bright in the cold winter air and a brilliant half moon was on the rise. Milk-white light splashed across the hills.

  Laura watched him expectantly, waiting for him to make the next move. He wanted to do more than kiss her. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to take down her hair and run his hands through it. That was what he wanted. What he could have was a different matter. He called upon all the patience he could muster.

  “I’ll buy your ticket tomorrow. You’ll be on the next stage headed back,” he told her.

  She shook her head no. “I have money. I can buy my own ticket—”

  He laughed. “Promise you’ll always be stubborn and independent?”

  “I’d like to continue running the boardinghouse,” she said.

  He tried to picture Sam and Janie tearing through her house full of expensive things.

  “The children—”

  “Will make the place a real home. If you don’t mind moving your family in, that is.”

  “My sister—”

  She didn’t even let him finish. “Charity will live with us too—” She paused before adding, “Though she may not want to move in once she hears the truth.”

  “She may surprise you. She’s not one to let anyone tell her what to do.”

  “There are those who will always be disgusted by me,” Laura said.

  Shadows filled her eyes again. He knew what the truth would cost them, just as he knew that even when it was out in the open, Laura would never forget the dark years of her past.

  He had no notion how the town would react. There was nothing to do but leave the future in God’s hands.

  He pulled her into his arms and pressed his cheek against hers.

  “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world,” he assured her. “Now let’s get you on the first stage out of St. Gall tomorrow before another storm hits.”

  By two o’clock the next afternoon, Laura was safely tucked inside the stagecoach outside of the depot. She was wrapped in not only her cape, but the quilt Betty Jean had gifted her with to use as a lap robe. Just as before, she was the only passenger, but she no longer had to search the horizon for Brand. He had found her. And no matter what, she knew now that even if he hadn’t, she was never truly alone.

  The Franks had driven her to the depot in their buckboard. Brand and Jesse rode alongside.

  “I hate to up and leave you without help.” Laura apologized over and over to Betty Jean while Ansel waited nearby.

  “I knew a gal like you wouldn’t be here long,” the café owner said. “The pretty ones always got a man chasing after them. Yours seems nicer than most. Then again, he is a preacher.”

  “Thank you for the job and the room.” She didn’t tell Betty Jean she’d left behind all the money they’d paid her; the hardworking couple needed it far worse than she did. The accommodations above the café may have been Spartan, but the neat little room had been the perfect retreat.

  “We’ll always have a place for you, if you ever want to come back.” Betty Jean laughed and shook her head. “We won’t have near as many men lined u
p for dinner without you here to take their orders.”

  Betty Jean shed a tear or two when she said good-bye and left Laura in Brand’s care.

  “You sure you’ll be all right on your own?” He wasn’t pleased that she was heading back on the stage alone.

  She smiled. “I got this far alone, didn’t I? Besides, the children need you at home.”

  “Then I’ll have Jesse accompany you.”

  “Brand, no. Please. Give me this time alone.”

  “But—”

  “Please. We have the future ahead of us.” She wanted time to reflect, to prepare herself for the challenges ahead without having to think about Brand spending any more time away from his family, without Jesse trailing along as escort.

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “I’m positive.” She paused, thinking a moment. “Does everyone know that you left town to look for me?”

  He nodded. “They do by now.”

  The stagecoach driver was asking Brand to step aside so he could close the door. The driver made certain it was shut tight and climbed aboard.

  Brand rested his forearms on the window frame. He wanted to kiss her good-bye—she could see it in his eyes plain as day—but he held himself in check.

  Laura leaned toward the window until she was close enough to kiss him. She closed her eyes and touched her lips to his. When the kiss ended, she smiled into his eyes, refusing to say good-bye.

  “Soon,” she whispered instead. Soon they would be married, their union blessed.

  Then it would be her right, her wifely duty, to give him so much more than a kiss.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Bad weather dogged Brand and Jesse as they arrived in Glory late Saturday afternoon. Brand insisted Jesse have dinner with the family before he went to the boardinghouse to ask the Hernandezes if he could move back into the carriage house and tell them Laura was on her way home.

  The minute the men started up the front porch steps, shouts of welcome greeted them.

  “Papa and Jesse are back!” Sam called from the front room.