by Jodi Thomas
“I’ll add it to the stash of material we’ve got,” Gypsy said as she carried the box inside.
The second box was crammed full of seeds and small gardening tools that Nell could use to tend her pots. By summer she dreamed of lining the porch with flowers.
The third box was bulky but didn’t seem heavy. Inside the packing, Nell found a tea set made of white china with flowers on the pot and cups. When she pulled the pieces out, the sheriff looked like he’d wasted his time bringing the box out. Even Gypsy mumbled that they had a perfectly good tea service she’d been doing her best not to break.
Nell hardly noticed their complaints. She handled each cup and saucer with care, letting her fingers slide over the tiny roses painted into the china. Then, reluctantly, she asked Gypsy to put the set away, and she resumed her watch. She didn’t know why she’d ordered the tea set, maybe just because she could. There had been so few times in her life when she’d had enough extra money to buy something she didn’t need.
Having afternoon tea had been one of the few things she’d loved at school. Being an outsider, Nell usually wasn’t invited to the parties or for weekends away, but everyone at the finishing school was not only invited but expected to attend afternoon tea. And there, Nell could pretend that she wasn’t so alone.
The sheriff had just returned from filling his third cup of coffee when she heard another wagon. They both sat in silence as Walter Farrow rounded the last bend and neared the gate. He pulled the reins and waited for someone to unlatch it. When no one came, he stumbled his way out of the wagon and opened the gate himself.
He took one step to climb back on the bench seat, then reconsidered and led the horse into the yard. Walter Farrow’s skill with handling a wagon was minute, and his observation abilities even less. He didn’t notice the sheriff and Nell on the porch until he walked almost to the steps.
“Mr. Farrow,” Nell greeted him.
The big man removed his hat. “Miss Smith, I hope I’m not interrupting, but I felt I must come by and apologize for my behavior yesterday.”
“No need.” Nell couldn’t keep herself from brushing her fingers over the rifle in her lap. “I consider it just a misunderstanding.” She really couldn’t blame Farrow when it had been Mary Ruth who wrote the letter encouraging him to come, but he seemed a slippery sort. Maybe it was his greasy hair and sweating face. She didn’t have a reason, but Nell didn’t like him.
He smiled as if all had been forgiven. “You’re most gracious, Miss Smith.” Farrow took the first step onto the porch as Sheriff Parker Smith stood.
“Oh,” Farrow said. “I see you already have company.” One bushy eyebrow rose halfway to his hairline. “Or is the sheriff a relative? I assumed you had no kin, but now I realize you both have the same last name.”
“Smith is a common name,” Parker mumbled.
Nell couldn’t help but smile at the old man. He wasn’t about to tell Farrow that she didn’t have a last name. Parker stood at the top of the steps blocking Walter’s way, even though his body was half the width. If Farrow wanted to step onto the porch, he’d have to go around the sheriff or mow him down with his big belly.
Farrow backed down and turned his attention to Nell. “I was hoping to talk with you about the Stockard place. I’d like to go out and take a close look around, but after yesterday I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t have me arrested for trespassing.”
“I might have,” Nell admitted. “But you’re welcome to look around as long as you understand that I haven’t decided to sell the land.”
He nodded as if expecting her answer. “I’ve spent the afternoon talking with the county judge. It seems my uncle didn’t list his house in town in his will. I don’t believe he thought he still owned it. The judge believes I may inherit that property as next of kin.”
“I’m glad.” Nell couldn’t manage to sound like she meant her words.
Farrow looked frustrated. It was clear that she didn’t plan to discuss anything with him, or even invite him to sit for that matter. “Well, I thank you, and I’ll be on my way.”
“I’ll close the gate behind you.” The sheriff started toward the wagon. Farrow had no choice but to follow.
As soon as the man was out of sight, Parker returned to his chair and mumbled, “I don’t trust that man. He’s no rancher. What would he want with the old Stockard place? It’s nothing but a skeleton of an old farm that ain’t good for nothing but raising rattlers. He’s up to something. I heard someone say he’s already starting to hire cowhands. Now what does a man without land need with hands?”
Nell guessed she’d be seeing Walter Farrow again. That type of man didn’t give up until folks started seeing things his way.
“What do you think, Mr. Harrison?” Nell hadn’t turned around. She knew Harrison stood behind her. He’d slipped into the shadows of the porch while Farrow had been talking.
“If you’ve no objection . . .” Harrison nodded slightly. “I think I’ll make use of one of those horses in the barn and ride out to the Stockard land. I’d like to know what Farrow finds so interesting.”
She turned then, smiling back at him. Randolph Harrison had read her mind. If she could have, she would have done the same thing. Farrow was looking for something, and for some reason he thought it was on the old forgotten ranch.
An hour later, as the sun set and the sheriff talked, Mr. Harrison left to get his things. He returned with his valise and joined the sheriff and Nell on the porch until Gypsy told them dinner was ready. Though the food was wonderful, as always, no one made much effort to keep the conversation going. They all realized Jacob wouldn’t be coming back tonight.
After dinner, Nell fought to keep from falling asleep in her chair. Finally, the sheriff said he’d better get back to town. Harrison walked him to the door, assuring the old man that he’d keep guard.
When the bookkeeper returned, Nell realized she would have to sleep downstairs. She couldn’t ask him to carry her. She wasn’t sure he could lift her. If she’d been standing, she would have been within an inch of his height, and he was so thin he couldn’t be strong enough.
“Would you like me to help you to your room?” He broke the silence.
“I’ll be all right down here,” she lied, knowing that she’d have to have her privacy. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to sleep in the barn.”
He nodded his understanding as Marla slipped from the kitchen. “If you’ll allow us, Marla and I came up with an idea that might work if you’d like to sleep in your own bed.”
Nell looked from one of them to the other, wondering how either had ever talked enough to come up with an idea. “I’m all right. I’m listening.” She’d love to be in her own room, if only for a few hours.
Marla rolled her to the foot of the stairs. When Nell stood, Marla shoved the chair away and locked one hand on her elbow and the other on Mr. Harrison’s arm. He did the same as they bent on either side of Nell. Their arms made a chair as Nell slipped a hand on each of their shoulders and lowered herself.
Slowly, they straightened, each taking half her weight. “We thought this would be easier on your back,” Harrison said, his face only a few inches from hers. “Now you can sit straight as we move up the stairs.”
In an easy rhythm, they climbed the stairs one at a time. Nell was almost in tears by the time they reached the top. The discomfort in her back had been minor. Her relief that she’d have a measure of privacy seemed a great gift. “Thank you,” she whispered as they lowered her to her bed.
Before she realized what she was doing, she kissed them both on the cheek, then laughed when they both looked embarrassed. Before anyone could say a thing, Gypsy rattled the wheelchair into the room, complaining that the thing got heavier every night.
“I’ll move my things and sleep across the hall,” Marla whispered. “Just in case you need anything in the night.”
“And I’ll be downstairs sleeping where I’ve got a clear view of the stairs,” Harrison announced. �
��You can rest easy, Miss Nell. No one will climb those stairs tonight without me noticing.”
Nell decided she liked Randolph Harrison more the longer she knew him. But, when she looked up at the man who had proposed to her yesterday, he was staring at Marla.
CHAPTER 11
JACOB STARED AT THE GIRL WADDLING BEHIND HIM and swore under his breath. He couldn’t leave her. She claimed she couldn’t go home. In fact, she wouldn’t even tell him where she lived. With her along, he’d never catch the shooter unless the man accidentally broke both legs and crawled directly ahead of them. Once, he’d suggested she wait for him in the clearing where he’d found her. He promised to pick her up on his way back. She’d cried for an hour.
There was no option left. He’d have to take her to Nell’s place. Another town might be closer, but there would be no guarantee that anyone would accept her. Times were hard enough for most folks without feeding strays. She looked more kid than adult. Someone might be willing to take one child to raise, but not two.
“Wait!” she yelled. “You’re moving too fast.”
Jacob slowed. At this pace, her baby would be walking before they made it to Clarendon. He stopped, checking Dusty’s saddle and pretending to be busy until she caught up. “You sure you don’t want to ride?”
She shook her head. “It’ll be too bumpy.” They had been traveling an hour, and she’d already asked twice when they would stop.
He knew it wasn’t her fault. Carrying all that extra weight and with legs no longer than a goat’s, he couldn’t blame her for complaining. Pulling his bedroll down, he laid it over the saddle to use for padding. “I’ll walk beside you, holding the reins. We’ll go slow.”
She frowned. “I’d fall off a horse that big.”
“I’ll tie you on,” he suggested, fighting the urge to add, And gag you.
She tumbled over a rock and would have landed on her face if he hadn’t caught her.
“Look.” He felt like he was trying to reason with a squirrel. “We’ll never make any time like this. I crossed a road yesterday. It didn’t look much used, but maybe we’ll get lucky and see someone pass. If you’ll climb up, I could walk twice as fast. You’re safer up there than tripping over rocks walking.”
“I can’t see my feet. It’s not my fault.” She shook tangled reddish brown curls that were starting to look like roots growing from her round face.
Jacob tried another angle. “I’m out of food, and if we don’t hurry, we’ll starve before we reach any civilization.”
“You don’t have anything in your pack?” She’d complained about the breakfast of coffee at dawn. “I thought you were saving it.”
Jacob grinned. Finally, he had her attention. “I didn’t plan to be out more than a day or two. You ate my supply of food last night. All I have left is black coffee.”
“All right,” she whined, “I’ll try it, but I’ve never been much for riding a horse. It may make the baby come.”
A thought occurred to him. “Your mother did tell you what to do when the time comes?”
Wednesday nodded. “She said scream.”
“Great.” Jacob decided, once he got her settled, he’d search for Wednesday’s parents and arrest them. They were either too dumb or too mean to be running around free. “If you’ll ride, I think I can get you home. Nell will know what to do when the labor starts. The cook will bake you something special. She makes apple dumplings that melt right down your throat.”
Wednesday looked interested.
“If you ride, we could make it by suppertime. I’ll bet there’s cake left over from Sunday dinner.” She took a step toward the horse, and he added, “Nell’s cook makes the best cakes in the county. Usually by evening, they’re half gone, and there’s extra icing on the plate if you like it piled high on your slice.”
Wednesday raised her arms, and he lifted her onto the saddle. Using the ends of his blanket, he wrapped her so that she’d stay up, even if she had no skill. He also wanted to brace her back, since she’d been acting like it ached all morning. “I’m not sure I can strap the stirrups up enough for you to put your feet in.” He’d had the saddle made for him without any thought that someone shorter might ride in it.
“Is your wife tall, Ranger?” Wednesday had a death grip on the saddle horn but seemed to be trying her best not to look frightened.
Jacob realized he’d called Nell’s place home. In truth, he thought of it as just that. When other men talked of heading home, he thought of getting back to Nell and her place by the tracks.
“She is,” he answered, thinking of Nell’s long legs and how she used to do her best to outrun him when she was in trouble. He noticed Wednesday staring at him and added, “When she was your age, she could ride like a man.”
He didn’t want to tell the kid about the mess over Nell getting married. Wednesday had enough problems of her own. But, with luck, they’d see Nell soon. “My wife,” the words rang strange to his ears, “took a fall last year that left her in a wheelchair.”
Wednesday’s cheery face melted. “I’m sorry.”
Jacob worked a rope around the saddle, binding her like a pack to the animal. “I just wanted you to know so you won’t be shocked when you see her.”
“You sure she’ll let me stay?”
“It’s the only place I can think of to take you. Nell will put you up for a few days until we figure out something or get word to your folks.”
“I’m dead to my folks,” she answered as if simply stating a fact. “I’ll never go back.”
Jacob shook his head but didn’t argue. He remembered times he thought his parents had been hard on him, but they’d never disowned him. Though they’d been dead since the year before he joined the Rangers, he felt like sometimes they were still watching over him, worrying about him. He missed the way his parents loved one another, the way his mother sang and his father complained about the weather. He missed the way he always knew they loved him.
Jacob calmed his horse. He held the lead close to Dusty’s head as he began walking. If Wednesday would keep quiet, they might have a chance at getting back. He glanced up and noticed she had already nodded off as the motions of the horse rocked her to sleep.
His thoughts turned to Nell. She never had a parent’s love. She never talked about her mother, not once, but she talked about Fat Alice plenty. The old madam might never have hugged the child she took to raise, but she took her responsibility seriously. He wondered if at any time in all her life, Nell had ever known she was loved. It might not seem like an important thing when you know you’ve been cared about. But, if you’ve never known love, would you even know to want it? Maybe that explained why she hadn’t made it part of the bargain for marriage.
About midmorning they reached a road, little more than ruts that could have been made by a small wagon train heading from Fort Worth north. Jacob hoped the tracks were made by a supply wagon running from one of the old forts to another. If so, it might still be used from time to time, even though most of the forts operating had train stations nearby.
Wednesday began a long list of endings to a sentence that started with “I’m so hungry I could . . .” Then she listed all her favorite foods.
When she went back to complaining about being so uncomfortable, Jacob was actually glad. All her talk made him hungry. He tried to guess how long it would take them to get home, but he didn’t see any way they’d make it, at this rate, by supper. If he had to, he’d walk all night, and with luck they’d make breakfast.
They stopped just after noon by a stream thirty feet from the road. He stood watch while she took a nap and Dusty grazed.
Jacob was saddling up when he saw a tattered old buggy rattling along the road. He ran to flag it down before he could see who drove it. At this point, the distraction of a highway robber would be welcome.
A white-bearded country preacher poked his head around the side of the buggy. Jacob smiled. There was no mistaking the man’s occupation. He had a Bible in one han
d and a .45 in the other. “Are you in trouble, son?” His voice boomed as if he were speaking to the multitudes.
Jacob held his hands wide and walked closer. “I am in need.” Before he could say more, Wednesday waddled toward them.
The preacher laid down his gun. “I can see you are. Lucky I came along.” He stepped from the buggy, the Bible held toward heaven. “Praise the Lord I made it in time before another one of God’s children was born a bastard.” He motioned Wednesday closer. “Afternoon, my name is Brother Aaron. I’m a sworn man of God, licensed to marry and bury folks.” He looked at Jacob. “That’ll be a dollar, son. In advance of the ceremony just in case one of you changes your mind halfway through.”
Jacob couldn’t manage enough spit to swallow. He took a step backward and raised his hands again, realizing he much preferred the gun pointing at him than the Bible.
“Are you going to do right by this little lady, sir? It looks like you robbed the cradle, and before spring she’ll be rocking one.” Brother Aaron raised his eyes to heaven again. “Lord, I’m not here to judge sinners, just help them get to going on the straight and narrow. If it weren’t for sinners, you wouldn’t need no preachers, so thank you, Lord, for putting these two fornicators in my path.”
Wednesday finally figured out what the preacher hinted at. She found her words with none of the hesitance Jacob had. “I can’t marry him, preacher. He’s already got a wife, and she’s in a bad way.”
Brother Aaron shook his Bible and his fist at the sky. “Lord, you do try me greatly sometimes. I’m not judging this sinner who takes advantage of young girls and beats his wife, but Lord, if you could strike him dead, I’ll do the funeral for free.”
Wednesday started giggling. Jacob had enough. He stepped forward. “I didn’t take advantage of this girl, and I’ve never hit any woman in my life.” He took a step closer to the buggy. “And only a few preachers.”
Brother Aaron lowered his arms and looked at Jacob. The old man might be twice his age, but Jacob saw a challenge in his eyes.