Grace, Unimagined

by Abagail Eldan

  Grace shrugged. “Not that I am aware of. He’s never been this late before, so I am a little worried.”

  Guilt stabbed her at the white lie. She’d been more worried about getting home and dealing with the hysteria of her mother and the drunkenness of her brother to give any thought as to why Mr. Taron was so late.

  Abby glanced at the clock and gave a gasp. “Grace! Why didn’t you say something? I did not realize the time.”

  “I will take you home,” Joshua suggested. “I just need to get the buggy hitched.”

  Grace shook her head. “No, please. I can’t ask that from you. You need to be here when your sister-in-law arrives.”

  Joshua pushed his fingers through his hair. “It’s no trouble. I can have you home and be back in the shake of a dog’s tail. I probably need to check on Mr. Taron anyhow.”

  “Where’s Dr. Robbie?” Melly asked without moving, her gaze still on something beyond the window.

  “Catherine was fussy, and she went to check on her,” Grace answered.

  As if their words had conjured her up, Dr. Robbie appeared in the doorway. She came into the sitting room, her forehead furrowed. “Have Mr. and Mrs. Martin not arrived yet? And has anyone seen Taron?”

  Abby grabbed her cane and limped toward Dr. Robbie. “No, ma’am, to both questions.”

  Dr. Robbie’s gaze swept the room and stopped where Grace still sat. “Taron has not seen you home yet?” She then chuckled softly. “I see that he has not.”

  Melly allowed the curtain to fall back into place and moved to an armchair in a dark corner of the room without glancing in their direction. She had an aversion to crowds, and although five people did not begin to fill up the sitting room, it was more than Melly was used to.

  Grace placed the bookmark in the book and closed it before she stood. “I don’t want to put anyone out. I can ride home if you will loan me a horse.”

  “Nonsense,” Dr. Robbie said. “It’s dark outside, and you are unfamiliar with riding.”

  When Melly spoke from the corner behind her, Grace startled. In a low voice, speaking slowly, Melly said, “The dark holds many dangers.” The words, spoken as if from an unembodied form sent a thrill of fear up Grace’s spine.

  Melly was right. An inexperienced rider, galloping off into the dark, was asking for trouble. And Grace was inexperienced, never having had the leisure time to pursue horseback riding, and no need to do it from necessity since she lived in town. It had only been when Dr. Robbie employed her that she needed transportation. Mr. Taron had always driven her home in the buggy... until tonight.

  Grace answered softly so Melly would be comforted and not dispense more dire warnings. “There’s no need to fear. I can saddle the horse myself if you will direct me, Joshua.”

  Dr. Robbie frowned. “But what of Taron? Someone needs to find him.”

  Grace laid a hand on Dr. Robbie’s arm. “If you’d like, I will inquire of the sheriff when I arrive in town.”

  Relief flooded her employer’s face. “Thank you. Perhaps, if it’s not too much trouble, send word if Taron is not in town.”

  “I’ll be certain to do that, and it’s no trouble at all.” She moved away to gather her things.

  Joshua retrieved his hat and settled it on his head. “You stay here, Miss Grace. I’ll go saddle a horse and bring it around for you.”

  Grace gave a slight nod. “Thank you, Joshua. Just bring it to the side door. I’ll be watching for you.”

  He nodded and went out.

  Dr. Robbie smoothed down the front of her dress. “If that’s settled, I will go check with Mrs. Franklin about supper. I know everyone is starving.” She sent a terse smile around the room and left.

  Abby smiled and shook her head. “She is too good to us. I’ve told her, there’s no need to feed us. I am getting around much better and can cook with Melly’s help.”

  Melly did not stir or acknowledge their words but remained in the chair in the shadows. Grace went to the window to watch for Joshua’s return. The porch was ablaze with light from two porch lamps that had previously been lit.

  Abby came back to the window to wait with Grace, and they stood in companionable silence. Grace felt perfectly at ease around Abby. She served as nanny to Dr. Robbie’s daughter, Catherine. Abby had her own brood of four children. Today, because Abby and Melly anticipated their sister’s arrival, Mrs. Franklin, the cook, had volunteered to watch the babies after she had gotten the roast in the oven and the vegetables prepared.

  After a few minutes, something caught Grace’s eye. She pressed closer to the pane for the glare of lantern light made it difficult to see clearly. As the conveyance drew nearer, they saw it was not Joshua with the horse but a wagon coming toward them.

  Abby grabbed Grace’s arm, her fingers digging into her flesh. “Could that be Johan—Joy?”

  Melly approached from behind, and Abby released Grace so quickly to twist around, she lost her balance. Grace caught her and steadied her.

  Melly had already moved away, back to the dark corner, and sat back down, not reacting to her sister’s stumble or the possibility it might be her long-lost sister arriving.

  Abby did not seem to notice Melly’s behavior. She grinned. “We’ll go meet them.”

  But Melly shook her head. “I’ll wait here.”

  Abby moved quietly to stand in the dark corner where Melly was sitting, and Grace moved farther away, to allow the sisters a bit of privacy.

  “Melly...” Abby said, her voice pleading.

  “We’ve waited sixteen years, almost seventeen. I can wait a few more minutes.” Melly’s voice appeared calm enough, but there was an underlying hint of tension.

  Grace’s heart constricted in compassion for Abby, and she spoke. “I’ll go with you.”

  Abby threw her a grateful smile. With a halting gait, leaning heavily on her cane, she moved toward the door, and Grace fell in step beside her.

  As they moved onto the porch, the wagon pulled up. The woman did not wait to be helped down but scrambled off, almost before the horses came to a full stop.

  “Joy!” Abby cried and stumbled forward.

  Grace remained with her, a hand at her elbow if needed. The sisters met in the middle of the wide porch, and Abby’s auburn head pressed against her sister’s darker one. They clung to each other, and their cries of happiness squeezed tears from Grace’s eyes.

  Mr. Martin, she presumed, set the brake, dismounted the wagon, and made his way around. Before she understood what was happening, the man had wrapped Grace in a hug that she had difficulty extracting herself from. He probably thought she was his sister-in-law.

  She shoved forth a hand to save further confusion. “I’m Miss Jansen, Dr. Rutherford’s assistant.”

  The man’s eyes sparkled with warmth, and he grinned at her before taking her hand and giving it a warm shake. “I beg your pardon. I believed you to be Joy’s other sister.”

  She pulled away and indicated the house. “Melly is waiting inside.”

  He looked toward the house and back to Grace. “Is she not well?”

  “I believe she is well physically. She is with child, as you may know.”

  He nodded. “You mean she is well physically, but mentally, perhaps not?” His eyes grew serious.

  “Dr. Rutherford has been preparing her as much as she can... for dealing with the pregnancy and subsequent childbirth.”

  “We will have to convey our thanks to Dr. Rutherford. Now that Joy has arrived, she will be a great comfort to her sister, I am sure.”

  “Allow me to return to the house. I’ll encourage her to come out to meet you and your wife.”

  “Please do as it looks as if Abby and Joy are not ready to go inside yet. As soon as my wife and her sister wish, we will be in.” He threw an affectionate look in their direction. They still clung to each other and cried.

  Grace’s own eyes watered as she went into the house. Dr. Robbie had returned from the kitchen and was seated on the settee.
>
  She looked up, her eyes holding hope. “Is it Johanna?”

  Grace nodded. Dr. Robbie stood and moved into the corner to stand next to Melly. “Do you want to go meet your sister now?”

  “Is she well?” Melly’s voice was so low, Grace strained to hear the words.

  “She appears very well,” Grace said. “Also, her husband seems to be a very kind man.” She gave a tender, encouraging smile, toward the dark corner, and Melly rose.

  “I will go to greet them,” she said, her voice flat, without a hint of inflection.

  Dr. Robbie nodded. “We will go with you, if you would like for us to.”

  Melly shook her head. “I must do this alone.”

  Dr. Robbie backed away and came to stand beside Grace. Grace sent Dr. Robbie a questioning look, wondering if Melly would be all right without their support.

  She interpreted it correctly. “Allow her to proceed,” the doctor whispered.

  Grace glanced at Melly’s back as she exited the sitting room, walking as if in a trance. They heard the front door open and close.

  Grace sank down on the settee and released a heavy sigh. “This is such exquisite joy that it is almost too painful for even me to bear.”

  Dr. Robbie patted her shoulder. “Funny, isn’t it? Painful joy.” She chuckled softly.

  “I can only imagine what it must be like for the sisters.”

  They waited in companionable silence, allowing the family privacy, before Dr. Robbie moved to the window and peered out.

  She returned to the settee, settled beside Grace, and smiled. “They are treating Melly with the utmost gentleness. Joshua has joined them, and his is always a steadying presence. He has been such a comfort to Abby, and I am sure will prove so to the whole family now that they are reunited.”

  Grace jumped to her feet. “Oh... he must have the horse saddled. I’ll slip out the side door, so I won’t disturb them.”

  Dr. Robbie stood with her and gave her a hug, one she felt she desperately needed.

  The doctor released her and held her shoulders, looking deeply in her eyes, as if searching, for something Grace could not fathom. “Take extra care going home,” she finally said.

  Grace pulled away. “I will, and I’ll send word as soon as I can.” She gathered her things and went into the hallway.

  “Goodnight,” Dr. Robbie called after her.

  Grace responded as she hurried along. She had tarried long enough. Although she was happy to have seen the sisters’ reunion, her mother had to be worried sick— that is, if Gus had not arrived.

  She turned into the right wing of the large house, the infirmary wing where Dr. Robbie saw patients. This was not as elaborate as the rest of the home although clean and well maintained. The oil lamps were lit and gave sufficient light as she walked toward the door at the end of the long hallway.

  Walking alone, her heels tattooed a rhythm that matched the beating of her heart. She squared her shoulders, breathed deeply and scoffed at her fear. To mount a horse and ride away into the dark frightened her, but she could do it.

  Another fear was the whereabouts of Mr. Taron. Why had he not arrived?

  She prayed wherever he was, he had suffered no harm.

  Chapter Three

  Ward tugged the brim of his hat to hide his look of disgust. Gus, like many drunks, was itching for a fight and had accused each in turn of cheating. Uneasiness settled in his gut. To be on the safe side, Ward loosened the string that held his pistol securely in its holster. Unfortunately, Gus chose that moment to lurch closer and caught sight of Ward’s discreet movements.

  “What’cha doing fiddling with your gun?” he slurred, as he straightened and placed his hands on the rough-hewn table’s edge and braced himself as he gave Ward a hard stare.

  Fletcher’s head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously on Ward. “What’re you trying to pull?”

  Ward lifted his hands as if in surrender. “Nothing. He’s seeing things.”

  Babbitt shot Fletcher a look and made a calming motion with the palm of his hand. “No need to get in a huff.”

  Babbitt’s words had done nothing to calm Gus. The drunk young man did not relax his muscles but gestured at Ward. “I may have had one or two glasses of whiskey, but I know what I saw. You a gunslinger?”

  Ward’s answer was terse. “Nope. Just passing through—not looking for trouble.”

  Fletcher frowned at him, and then took the cards he held and placed them face down on the table. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Tell your story, mister. Never did catch your name.”

  Ward shrugged. “Name’s Ward. Not much to tell since I can’t remember much.” He relaxed his shoulders, glanced around at the three men, and waited for their reaction.

  Gus leaned back in his chair, still eyeing Ward. “You mean your memory was affected? From your accident?” He made a vague motion to indicate Ward’s head.

  Ward nodded. “Happened when I was young. Some Choctaws were in the area, found me, and fixed me up the best they could. A few years later, I was...” He hesitated, to choose his words carefully. “...recovered by some soldiers and placed in an orphanage.”

  Babbitt leaned forward, his eyes alight with interest. “Where were you when the accident occurred?”

  “That I don’t remember. As I said, I don’t recall much of my childhood, even the time with the Choctaws and in the orphanage.”

  “We going to play or chitchat?” Fletcher said and picked up his cards to fan them open.

  Gus threw the locket in the middle of the table. Babbitt picked it up and examined it before he pressed the crown that released a latch. The small, filigree case opened like the hard wings of a ladybug and revealed a picture.

  He held it up and compared it to Gus. “This looks like a portrait of you and your sister as youngsters. Do you not wish to remove it?”

  “Why?” Gus blinked bloodshot eyes at Babbitt.

  Fletcher frowned and pulled the locket from Babbitt’s hand. “Is this really worth something?”

  “Eighteen karat gold,” Gus slurred. “My illustrious father, Augustus Jefferson Jansen, Senior, bought it at the Bavarian Jewelry & Watch Repair Shop.”

  The furrows deepened in Babbitt’s forehead. “Does it belong to Grace?”

  Gus lowered his head and shook it slowly. “My father, Lord, rest his soul, gave each of us lockets.”

  Fletcher’s eyes narrowed on Gus. “Mighty pretty thing for a man.”

  “This locked was given to me for my future wife.” Gus attempted to straighten, and the planes of his face smoothed and took on a semblance of innocence.

  The lie was obvious. If he spoke truthfully, why would the picture of him and his sister be in the locket? But Ward kept silent. Rocking the boat would not help him accomplish his objective.

  Fletcher waved irritably. “It’s enough for one hand, if we get around to playing.”

  The batwing doors of the saloon flew open with such force, the four men immediately tensed. Fletcher’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened to speak when shots rang out. Before Ward could draw his gun, a gurgling sound emerged from Fletcher’s mouth and his body crumpled forward.

  Gus was on his feet, swaying, and Ward knocked him to the ground, kicking the table over in the same movement. His gun was in his hand, and he peered over the table and took aim. Babbitt crouched beside him, behind the table, and fumbled with his own pistol.

  More shots rang out before the saloon plunged into darkness. Ward had gotten off two shots but didn’t know if they had reached their mark. He’d lost the whereabouts of Babbitt and only knew Gus’s position by the stench of whiskey and his heavy breathing.

  Shooting into the dark could just as likely kill the innocent, and Ward quit firing. Instead, dragging Gus with him, he scrambled toward the counter. He ducked behind it, a hand over Gus’s mouth. The sound of wood dragging against wood filled his ears—tables being moved across the rough-hewn planks of the floor as the gunmen searched for victims. More sh
ot ran out, and men screamed.

  After a few minutes that stretched into eternity, the guns became silent. The batwing doors squeaked, loudly and then more softly. Dying moans from various areas of the room reached them, and Gus struggled to stand. Ward constrained him, not knowing if one of the gunmen still lingered. It was only when lantern light again illuminated the saloon, a few minutes later, that he released Gus.

  Even then, Ward was cautious, his gun at the ready as he peered over the countertop. A couple of men, their badges flashing by the light of the lantern, moved around the room.

  Gus had made it to his feet and leaned heavily on the counter, his eyes wide, gasping for air like a dying fish. Ward sent him a sideways glance to make sure he wasn’t going to faint at the sight before he left him and moved around the corner of the counter.

  Dark pools of blood grew ever larger as lives drained away. Bodies were draped over tables and lay scattered about the room as if ragdolls. Every man in the saloon appeared to have been shot except for Gus and Ward.

  Babbitt was one of them, face down, and Ward knelt, checked his wrist for a pulse, and noted a faint flutter. As he prepared to roll Babbitt over, someone thrust the cold barrel of a rifle into his ribs.

  “On your feet, mister.”

  Ward stood and turned to face the sheriff whose paleness could be detected even in the dim lantern light.

  “This one is still alive,” Ward said as the sheriff tugged his gun from his hand.

  The sheriff glanced down. “That’s Taron Babbitt. What’s he doing in here?”

  Ward stayed still and silent, knowing the sheriff only puzzled over the matter and didn’t expect an answer. Gus straggled over to them although the sheriff barely glanced at him.

  The sheriff’s attention returned from Babbitt to Ward, his eyes wide with caution, perhaps fear. “This your handiwork?”

  Ward shook his head. “No, sir. I’m here on official business. May I?” With an inclination of his head, he indicated his vest pocket.

  The sheriff nodded. “Slow and easy.”