by Craig, Emma
# # #
From the house, Alexander McMurdo had seen Grace and Noah at the fence. He shook his head. They were going at it, those two, and Mac could tell they were getting nowhere fast. Grace had no idea how much and what kind of damage Noah had sustained in the war. As for Noah himself, he was sure he was ruined forever and had given up on ever being whole again.
They definitely needed his help. Leaving little Maddie sleeping a magical sleep replete with happy dreams, he hastened outside to take care of things.
Grace almost bowled him down, but he lifted his hand, and she froze in mid-stride. Noah froze too, with an expression of anguish on his face, as if he wished he could do something to stop Grace from running away from him but didn’t have the wherewithal to do it.
It was a useful tool, freezing people so he could work on them, although Mac used it sparingly. He was one of the ancients, and knew that most problems experienced by the human race worked themselves out—or didn’t—in the natural course of things. Every now and then, as in the case of Noah Partridge and Grace Richardson, he liked to take a hand.
They were both good people, Noah and Grace. Mac loved them. They needed each other, too, as much as Maddie needed the two of them together.
Poor old Noah’s inner workings were really kinked up, however, and his condition was getting in the way of the healing process Mac had begun. He needed more help than Grace did. Grace was still grieving for her lost Frank, but she was a basically sound woman. Noah needed work, and fast.
Very gently, Mac lifted Noah’s hat from his head and waved his hand slowly over his head three or four times. Nothing fancy needed here; he didn’t bother with a wand or any of the other dramatic trappings of his wizardry. Mac had graduated from needing the instruments of his discipline centuries before.
Sparkles like glittering dust particles filled the air, bathing Noah in shifting, shimmering light. Carefully, making sure he didn’t skip an inch of the man, Mac dusted Noah with his healing magic. He paid particular attention to Noah’s heart and his head, the two areas most severely damaged by years of hardship and bitter abandonment.
Mac’s eyes filled with tears when Noah’s memories became his. “Ah, ye poor lad,” he whispered. “The things folks do to each other are mortal sad and hellish. But we’ll get ye well again, lad. You just see if we don’t.”
It took a long time to finish with Noah. It would take longer yet, but Mac was willing to work with him for as long as need remained.
Then he turned his attention to Grace. “Ye’re a fine woman, Grace Richardson, but ‘tis time to put your grief aside and let this poor man into your heart. Ye need each other, lass, and Maddie needs ye both.”
Grace required much less time than Noah had. When Mac was through with her, he snapped his fingers and vanished into the house.
Noah blinked into the bright, harsh sunlight. He had an odd sensation in his chest, as if someone had lit a fire and thawed it out. He didn’t want Grace to leave him.
Grace, feeling oddly as if she’d stumbled over a moment in time, caught herself before she could take another step. She turned around. “Oh, Mr. Partridge, I’m so sorry.”
“No, ma’am. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
He looked impossibly uncomfortable. Grace’s conscience smote her. “No. I have no business prying into your business. You obviously need solitude. I didn’t mean to meddle.”
“I, ah, guess I do need a lot of time alone, ma’am, but I don’t necessarily like it.”
Grace cocked her head, puzzled. She saw him lick his lips.
“I mean, I—I haven’t been quite right since the war, to tell the truth, ma’am. I, ah, had some pretty bad times.”
She nodded, her heart flooding with tenderness. “My uncle Henry went through some terrible times, Mr. Partridge. I understand.” She shook her head, annoyed with herself. “That is, I don’t understand at all, because I’ve never been through anything so terrible, but I know how war can affect some men, because I’ve seen the results.”
“It’s hard for me to talk about it, Mrs. Richardson.” He took an audible breath and looked away. “That is, I—haven’t been able to talk about it yet. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your offer of friendship.”
Grace was astonished when he smiled. He had such a beautiful smile, and he looked ever so much less forbidding when he smiled. She had a mad desire to see Noah Partridge as he might have been before the war got to him; to see him as a man who smiled as easily and as freely as he played the piano. She said, “Thank you,” and wondered why.
“Um, if you’re willing to put up with my moods and—and my craziness, ma’am, maybe you and Maddie would like to go for a drive one of these days. Maybe we can take a picnic or something out by one of the rivers.”
He looked disconcerted, as though his offer had surprised him as much as it astonished Grace. “I mean, not alone or anything. We can all go. Mac too. When the weather’s better and all.” His words stuttered to a stop and he blushed. Grace could hardly believe her eyes.
How sweet. She smiled at him. “That would be lovely, Mr. Partridge. Maddie and I would both enjoy it. Thank you.”
He nodded, and she got the impression he didn’t know what to say now. This was silly. He couldn’t remain outside on a day like this.
“Mr. Partridge, it’s very cold today. Won’t you come into the house? You don’t have to talk to anyone. I’ll be giving Maddie her lessons, and Mac is always busy in the store. There are lots of books in there, and it’s warm. Won’t you join us?”
He hesitated for several moments. Grace was surprised that his apprehension didn’t annoy her. She reached out her hand and laid it gently on his arm. He looked down at it. Grace got the feeling he wished he dared touch her. She almost wished the same thing.
At last he said, “Thanks. I’d like that.”
They walked back to the house side by side, closer together than either one of them probably realized. Even their steps were synchronized. Mac, watching them, grinned and blew a series of smoke rings into the air. His touch remained sure. This was getting good.
He planned to make sure the weather was fine for a picnic very soon. He had one more trick up his sleeve before that, though. He looked forward to it.
Chapter Nine
At three o’clock the following afternoon, a family of settlers rattled into Mac’s wagon yard. The weather remained cold. When Noah had awakened that morning, frost had covered his bedroll. When he’d sat up, he heard ice crystals crunch as his blanket wrinkled. The frost had melted by this time, but the air was like the inside of an ice house, and a strong wind cut through it like shards of glass. Inhospitable is probably what most folks would have called it. It appealed to Noah more than he could say. He still harbored a faintly peaceful feeling left over from the day before, too, and he cherished it.
He watched the newcomers from his stall where he’d been reading The Personal History of David Copperfield, one of several books he’d brought to the territory with him. As he watched, he wondered what it must be like for a family to pick up stakes and take off across this huge American continent to settle in new, unfamiliar territory. He’d left his home state and taken off across the country, but he’d had no stakes left at the time.
He heard the door to Mac’s mercantile open and turned to see Maddie and Mac come out. He watched them head over to greet the newcomers, Maddie skipping along at Mac’s side and looking as if this were the most exciting thing to happen to her since she heard that piano music the other day—which it possibly was.
Noah shook his head. His own desire to have her land aside, he couldn’t understand why Grace Richardson wanted to put her own little girl, whom she obviously loved with all her heart, through the rigors of growing up out here in the territory. Hell, growing up was hard enough even when a kid had friends and family around.
But Maddie’s upbringing was nothing to him. What Grace did with her kid was her own affair. His only problem was
how to get her land away from her. He told himself so roughly, when he realized his mind had taken to meandering fondly around thoughts of Grace.
“Welcome to Rio Hondo, strangers,” Mac called to a bearded man driving the team of exhausted-looking oxen. The man looked relieved to hear the friendly greeting.
“Good afternoon, mister. Understand you can help me repair this here wagon. She’s got a wheel on her that’s barely holding together.”
“Aye,” said Mac. “You’ve come to the right place for wagon repairs.”
“Thank God.” The bearded man turned and spoke into the back of his covered wagon. “It’s all right, Caroline. You and the children can get down now.” He turned back to Mac. “The kids were taking a nap back there. Don’t know where they found the room.” He chuckled, sounding rueful. Noah didn’t wonder at it. It must be difficult, carrying a family’s entire belongings in so small a vehicle.
The bearded gent climbed down from the wagon. Faintly curious and figuring he might make himself useful, Noah wandered over to the strangers. Maddie and Mac greeted him as if they were happy to see him. He found himself enjoying their congeniality. Friendship. Is this what friendship used to feel like? Noah couldn’t remember, but he warned himself not to get used to it, because it would end soon enough.
“It’s my birthday, Mr. Noah!” Maddie announced eagerly. “And Mac says these new people are like a present!”.
Cripes. Was it really the kid’s birthday? Noah wished he’d known earlier. He’d have found or made something to give her. A present or something. That was what folks were supposed to do for kids’ birthdays, wasn’t it?
“Happy birthday, Miss Maddie. How old are you today?” He knew the answer, of course, but couldn’t think of anything better to say.
“I’m six,” she declared proudly. “And Mommy’s baking me a real choc’lit cake.”
“Sounds good.”
Two children, a boy and a girl, both about Maddie’s age, walked out from behind the back of the wagon. Noah watched Maddie’s expression bloom into joy. She clasped her hands to her chest as if this were the happiest moment of her short life. His heart gave a painful spasm. What a life it was! Criminy, that little girl’s life was even more circumscribed than his own.
“Oh, look!” Maddie sounded ecstatic.
“Aye, Maddie-lass. Looks like ye have some children to share your birthday wi’ ye.”
“Oh, yes!” Maddie raced over to meet the two children. “My name is Maddie Richardson. Who are you?”
The girl smiled uncertainly and hung back a bit from Maddie’s exuberance. “My name’s Anastasia,” she said. “This here’s my brother Paul. We’re twins.”
Maddie cocked her head as if this information were fascinating to her. “What’s twins?”
Anastasia said, “Twins look alike. Sometimes you can’t even tell ‘em apart. You can tell Paul and me apart, though, ‘cause he’s a boy and I’m a girl. Twins are borned at the same time.”
“Oh.” Maddie nodded, accepting Anastasia’s explanation easily. Noah grinned as he watched Maddie’s attention transfer to Paul. “What’s the matter with your brother? Is he shy?”
Evidently taking Maddie’s question as a challenge, Paul straightened himself up and took a bold step forward. “I ain’t shy,” he asserted stoutly.
Unaffected by his show of bravado, Maddie grinned and said, “Good. I’m glad, ‘cause it’s my birthday, and I’m six, and my mommy’s making me a real choc’lit cake and fried chicken for supper, and you can eat with us.”
“Thank you,” said Anastasia. “Happy birthday.” She smiled a shy smile, and Noah’s heart warmed up and got mushy. Cripes, if he didn’t watch himself, he’d turn to some kind of maudlin soup here in this backwater of a territorial village on the edge of nowhere.
“We were six a long time ago,” said Paul, obviously not wanting to be out-done by Maddie.
Maddie ignored him, which Noah thought was very wise of her, all things considered. “Want to see my dolly? My mommy made her for me. Her name’s Priscilla.”
“I’ve got a dolly, too,” said Anastasia.
“Want to play together?”
Maddie’s eyes were as bright as stars. Noah wished he could wave a magic wand and make the world beautiful for her. But he couldn’t. The best he could do was buy her daddy’s property and give her mama some money, if Grace would ever allow him to.
The children walked off toward the house, the two little girls chattering away as if they’d known each other since birth, the boy dragging his feet. It looked to Noah as if Paul didn’t want to be seen playing with girls, but was hard-pressed to keep up his air of aloofness and superiority since there weren’t any other children around. He must be lonely as the dickens for kids his own age to play with.
Noah suspected the boy’s pretense of masculine pride would crumble soon enough, and he’d be playing with the girls before very much time passed.
He was right. Long before Noah’d helped Mac and the newcomer, whose name was Claude Merchant, repair the broken wheel on his wagon, the three children were ensconced in Mac’s store, playing together in the warmth of the pot-bellied stove like chums of long standing.
After the repairs were completed and the Merchants had been ushered into Mac’s store to meet Grace and purchase supplies, Noah went back to his stall, sat on his hay bale, and looked around. Now what could he give to little Maddie Richardson to make her birthday happier? He had no idea. What the hell did he know about children and, more particularly, little girl children?
Then, out of the blue, something occurred to him. He sat up straight on his hay bale and turned the notion over in his mind. He expected it to hurt, but it didn’t, which seemed encouraging to him. Shoot, maybe this one tiny thing in his life was healing over.
Probably not.
Nevertheless, he got up, walked over to the neat pile of his belongings stacked in the corner of his stall, and reached for his saddlebags. From deep inside one of them, underneath the Bible his mother had given him when he was twelve, way down where he never had to look at it, he withdrew a small, decorative, heart-shaped gold locket on a short golden chain. He hesitated before he opened the locket, because he wasn’t sure what his reaction was going to be, and he didn’t fancy having another fit.
Finally he pressed the clasp, the locket opened, and there she was. Julia. She’d given him the tiny picture years and years ago—to remember her by, she’d said, when he went off to war. Noah recalled that day vividly. He’d felt so damned noble and so damned sad. Julia had had tears in her eyes.
He’d bought the locket to hold the picture somewhere in Washington right after he’d joined the regiment, thinking he’d give her the locket when he got home again, sure she’d still be waiting for him. Hell, she’d cried over him, hadn’t she? He’d intended to get the back of it engraved with their initials, but now he was glad he hadn’t had the chance to do so.
“What a damned dunderhead I was back then,” he muttered, staring at the face in the locket. She’d sure been pretty, Julia had. Dark eyes, dark hair all shiny and cut and curled. She’d been a real belle. She hadn’t waited, of course, but married another man not six months after she’d promised to wait for Noah. And now Julia was dead and Noah wasn’t, and he still carried her picture around in this damned locket, like a reminder of his youthful follies. He sighed.
“Ah, what the hell. At least Maddie Richardson’s alive. She’ll probably value it a hell of a lot more than Julia ever would have.”
The truth didn’t make him feel appreciably better. He stuck the small photograph of Julia into the Bible, shoved the Bible to the bottom of his saddlebag, snapped the locket shut, and wondered if he’d just made a big mistake.
Later that evening, however, when he joined the Merchants, the Richardsons, and Mac for Maddie’s birthday dinner, he realized he felt freer somehow, as if by ridding himself of that last vestige of Julia’s betrayal, he’d purged himself of a burden. He was probably just being
whimsical again.
“I’m so glad you could join us, Mr. Partridge,” Grace said with a warm smile of greeting. “I know you don’t like to socialize very much.” She blushed, and Noah suspected she thought she’d said something rude. As if the truth could be considered discourteous.
“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Richardson.” He decided not to touch upon the subject of his lack of social graces—or his lunacy. It was hiding out of sight at the moment, but he knew it was ready to spring out at him at the least provocation. If he went crazy and had to rush outside to escape the party, he trusted that Grace would make his apologies for him. At least now she knew what ailed him, sort of. She seemed to be good at gracious apologies, too.
Dinner was delicious. It didn’t seem to Noah that Grace had been at all daunted by the prospect of feeding four more people than she’d originally planned on. He’d seen her earlier, heading out to the chicken coop with a hatchet in her hands, and guessed then that she aimed to sacrifice a second chicken for her daughter’s sake and the sake of the strangers. At least Grace and her daughter didn’t lack for food, thanks to Mac. Noah wondered how they’d fare without the kindhearted Scotsman’s help.
“This is my favorite meal, Anastasia,” Maddie confided to her new friend. “Fried chicken and corn and ‘tatoes.”
The two little girls had been giggling ever since Noah walked inside the house. If he’d been asked if he’d enjoy hearing a couple of six-year-olds giggling before he heard these two, he would have said he’d as soon skip it. However, he found himself oddly comforted as he listened to them. They sounded happy. Even Paul had fallen from his superior masculine pedestal—looked like he’d jumped off, actually—and giggled almost as much as the girls. Something warm snaked its way into Noah’s heart and curled up there, heating him on the inside.
Grace looked like she was as pleased as anything to have another female to talk to. She and Mrs. Merchant were going at it a mile a minute. Mr. Merchant, a taciturn man, didn’t speak much, but he kept casting tolerant glances at his wife and Grace, and Noah liked him for it.