Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star HeiressThe Lawman's Oklahoma SweetheartThe Gentleman's Bride SearchFamily on the Range

by Griggs, Winnie; Pleiter, Allie; Hale, Deborah; Nelson, Jessica

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t face her or accuse her. Better to leave things in the past.

  “This morning James brought me a telegram from Lou,” said Rose without blinking. “He wrote that you know what I never wished to confess. Do you understand his hatred for me now? Can you see why I hesitated to intrude in your home?”

  Mary’s mouth was so dry she could taste the desert upon her tongue.

  “I have packed my bags and stayed only to tell you one thing—I am sorry, with the deepest regret a human can feel. This sorrow is a wound within my soul that does not heal. Nor should it. I have prayed to the spirits that you may have a good life. A blessed life with strong loves and much goodness.” Rose blinked and a single tear edged from beneath her lashes. “You deserved more than what I gave you.”

  “Mother…” Mary dipped her head, hiding from the pain on her mother’s face. She wanted to comfort her somehow, to ease her pain. God help me.

  Seventy times seven.

  The scripture reverberated through her. Like a seedling on the wind, dropped into the soil of her heart, and with her acceptance of His words, a new feeling spread through her. She lifted her head, feeling different, alive, helped. She stepped forward and before her mother could respond, embraced her.

  She hugged her tightly for several moments, inhaling the wind in her mother’s hair and the cedar scent that clung to her skin from her basket weaving.

  When she felt able to speak, she pulled back and looked her mother in the eyes. “You speak of spirits and blessing. I am blessed and healed by One, my mother. The One who created me. He also created you, and loves you. Though my life has had pain, it has not lacked comfort.”

  Rose nodded slowly, her lips trembling. “I have seen the peace on your face and wondered at it.”

  “Yes.” Mary felt the smile start in her heart and work to her face. “My Bible says God is our comfort so that we can be a comfort to others.”

  “The white man’s God is trouble.” Her mother frowned.

  Mary’s smile wavered. “No. He has been my peace. And now, in His name, I offer you forgiveness.”

  Rose shivered as though the parched breath of desert wind sliced through her very bones.

  “Please stay and live with me,” Mary continued, feeling the wobble in her voice. “I love you, and though what you did hurts, I know we can be healed.”

  “How can you forgive me?” Her mother’s eyes welled with tears. They dripped down her cheeks, filling the grooves like flooded riverbeds.

  “Because…no one is perfect. Not one person but Christ Himself. I choose this path, Mother. Please walk it with me.” Mary held out her hand, afraid, hoping her mother would take it, that she would pass from the shadowlands where she’d lived for too long.

  After what seemed an interminable wait, her mother reached for her and burst into tears. Taken aback but feeling weepy herself, Mary allowed her mother to gather her into her arms.

  She hadn’t known she would forgive her mother, not until she’d seen that pain upon her face. Forgiveness was the right thing to do, and she hoped she would have done it anyway, whether or not her mother felt regret. But she did, and it was as though a piece of Mary’s heart finally felt respite.

  She rested her cheek against her mother’s shoulder, and her thoughts turned to Lou. She hoped he’d find Mr. Langdon, because she had no doubt Josie’s uncle would come looking for them at the ranch—it was only a matter of time.

  Then perhaps Lou would run to Asia again. Maybe stay there this time, because to face his sorrows, to forgive God for the pain in his life, had proved too hard for him.

  She hoped the best for him, she really did. But she also hoped for herself, because there was one part of her heart, a large portion, that might never be free unless she could let him go.

  And right now, letting go wasn’t even something she could imagine.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A sea of ebony stretched before Lou. The image altered. A woman, small and gently curved, stood at the door. Glossy strands of her hair glistened beneath a milky moon. Her face… He couldn’t see her face. He moved closer, his pulse thumping through him in quick, steady beats.

  If only he could see her somehow. It wasn’t Sarah. Her hair was blond. And she was gone, wasn’t she? Gone forever. He waited for the familiar ache to surge through him, but it didn’t arrive. Instead, he drew closer to the woman before him, the one whose expression he couldn’t see. But he wanted to. He wanted to touch her skin, to see laughter light her eyes.

  Moonlight flowed over her slight shoulders, undulating into the room where he stayed. He moved quickly, needing to reach her, but the moment his hand connected to her sleeve, she vanished and he awoke. He blinked, his eyes gritty and his feelings raw.

  Mary’s face swam before him, the way she’d looked when he’d kissed her that second time. Soft and dewy. In love.

  And she’d said it, too. Said that she loved him, with luminous eyes and trust in her voice. Idiot that he was, he’d thrown her feelings in her face. Remembering how he’d mentioned Sarah, he groaned and pressed his palms against his eyes.

  Enough whining. He’d made his bed and it was the best one for him. Common sense told him Mary needed a good man with a whole heart and a spiritual bent. What could he offer her? A house. That was about it.

  You make her smile.

  Okay, so he could give her some good stories. So what?

  She trusts you.

  Not anymore. Not since she found out he’d known her mother exposed her whereabouts to Langdon.

  Muttering, he sat up and threw the flimsy blanket off his legs. He had a criminal to hunt down, and today was his last day to find him before shipping out for Hong Kong. If he didn’t arrest Langdon today, he’d have to leave the duty to his team, and that wasn’t going to happen.

  This was his man and he’d get him no matter what.

  He hurried out of bed, dressed and went in search of his junior agents.

  *

  “You’re sure he’s here?” Lou gazed dubiously at the rickety house in front of them. The structure seemed barely capable of standing against such a steep wind.

  “Yep. I’ve been here several times in the past few years. They let the hooch sit here a spell after the drop-offs and then slowly move it out.” O’Leary shaded his forehead against the sunset. “Langdon doesn’t usually do the dirty work, but with heat on him, he’s probably hiding out here. We’ve taken down his other spots and put the word out that we’re done with the search. He’s an arrogant fellow, usually handles the money and the politics. He doesn’t suppose we’ll keep looking for him now that we’ve got some success on the table.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” said Lou grimly. Getting Langdon would be a real coup, not just professionally but personally, too. And if they couldn’t get him on the shooting charge, they’d have a smuggling charge to put him away for a while.

  He eyed the house. “Best way in?”

  O’Leary, whom he’d specifically requested work at his side, gestured to the right. “Around back there’s a cellar door. We’ll drop in there and work our way up.”

  “Let’s go.” Lou and the four other men who made up their team followed O’Leary to the back. He located a heavy door set into the incline leading up to the abandoned house. The moan of the wind disguised the hinge’s whine when O’Leary and Lou opened the cellar.

  “It’s not padlocked because the men use it routinely, and they don’t expect theft in this place.”

  Lou glanced over his shoulder as the agents filed in. No other lights were visible on this rugged portion of Oregon landscape. Even the roads didn’t come this far. They’d hiked a jagged path to reach the house. O’Leary had done his work well. Lou planned on making sure he received a commendation for it.

  He dropped down after the last agent, leaving the cellar door open. The cold damp hit him square in the face and he suppressed a shiver. They followed O’Leary up the stairs quietly, and listened for sound
s.

  Nothing.

  The lights had been on in the upper parts of the house. O’Leary nudged the door open and Lou slid through first, revolver ready, back against the wall. He eased into what looked like the kitchen in the waning light. He cocked his head, listening, but only heard the shushed sound of the other men filtering into the room. They spread out in a tactical offense formation.

  Lou used his gun to gesture upward. O’Leary nodded. He gave the other men the sign to scope out the rest of the house while he and Lou made their way to the next set of stairs. Positioned in the living room, the narrow staircase had obviously been built for much smaller people.

  Lou semisquatted his way up the stairs, keeping O’Leary behind him. He didn’t like casualties on his watch. Knew they happened, but not when he could help it. As they touched the top step, the crackle of a radio reached their hearing. He craned his head around the corner.

  Unbelievable.

  A short hiss escaped his lips, lost beneath the soft jazz emanating from the room. Langdon sat in a chair, head between his hands… Alone. No one else present that Lou could tell. The closet was open. A single window.

  Wait, there might be a hallway…. He shifted a bit forward. Yes. An open door to Langdon’s right looked like a hallway leading to other rooms. He’d go around, then, and leave O’Leary here.

  He pulled back, motioned for the agent to stay put and went to the right. The narrow hall creaked with every step. He kept his gun ready, his eyes open until he reached a doorway on his left. Peeking in, he caught a glimpse of shaggy brown hair and blankets. Langdon’s guard asleep on the bed.

  That made things easy. He zipped into the bedroom and took care of the guard. He’d sleep for a few hours and wake up with a headache.

  Satisfied, he stalked to the door that led to Langdon’s room. He paused in the entry, aimed his gun and said softly, “I didn’t take you for stupid.”

  Langdon startled, whipping his head up and looking wildly around. His eyes were bloodshot, his chin whiskered. Dirty light filtered in from the small window behind him.

  “Had a tough time lately?” Lou goaded. “Lost your girl, business is shut down, times are hard all around. Where’re your goons? The one sleeping in the bed was easy to take care of. I expected more from you.” He showed his teeth in what might pass as a smile to some. “Stand up.”

  Langdon glared at him but did as he said. “I hope you have a warrant.” His sneer was filled with arrogance.

  “Got it and more. You’re facing quite a bit of time, you know. Your cohorts are snitches, every one of them. Got no loyalty to you.”

  “You have nothing.”

  “I’ve an eyewitness to attempted murder.”

  “Who?” he scoffed.

  Lou’s lips twitched. “Me.”

  Langdon’s face visibly paled. His eyes darted. “Says who? I want my lawyer.”

  “You’ll get him. Make no mistake about that. In the meantime, why don’t we have a little chat. Off the record.” Lou used his shoe to flip the door behind him closed. He stepped into the room, keeping his revolver trained on his quarry. No doubt Langdon had some kind of pistol stored on his person.

  “I’m not talking.”

  “Sure you are. We’ll just have a nice little chat about Mary.” Lou looked down the barrel of his .38. “She’s a special lady. You’ve had your eye on her for a long time, and the way I figure things, your time is about up. In fact, it’s been up.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Langdon said stiffly. His fingers clenched at his side, inching toward a pocket.

  “Wouldn’t do that if I were you. At this range, there’s no way I’d miss that pretty face of yours. I don’t think you’d like that.”

  Langdon’s fingers wavered, then slowly moved into a more relaxed position.

  “That’s a good smuggler,” Lou murmured. “Here’s the thing—you’ll be done following Mary. You’ll leave her alone and never set foot in Harney County again.”

  “Or what?”

  The silky arrogance of his voice set Lou’s teeth on edge. He just wanted to shoot this guy, get rid of him forever. He could feel the anger burning through his veins.

  “You don’t want to find out. I expect you’ll be put away for a long, long time.”

  Langdon’s face twisted suddenly. All the smoothness left it, the spoiled surety wiped away by a bitterness Lou hadn’t expected to see.

  “You think you know everything.” Langdon spat on the floorboards. “Mary’s nothing to me, but I plan to ruin her just like her mother ruined my father.”

  Well, this was new. Lou narrowed his eyes. “You’re out for revenge?”

  “Justice, the kind the law doesn’t mete out. The kind God forgets to give. Mary thinks God is watching out for her, but she’s wrong. He looks out for no man. Her mother destroyed my father. Stole his money, broke his heart and left him a withered, whupped old man. He killed himself a year later. I was sixteen. Mary’s mother, Rose—” he said her name with vitriol, his face marred by angry lines “—will pay for what she did to me. God doesn’t hand out justice, but I do.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Lou asked in a deliberately bored tone.

  “Because I want you to know that I will never, ever give up. Mary is my revenge, and it doesn’t hurt that she has a face a man doesn’t forget. This will never be over until Rose feels the torture my family experienced. You can put me away—” Langdon’s voice lowered to a hiss “—but you will never stop me.”

  Lou’s finger itched to stroke the trigger. A bit of pressure. That was all it would take to make this mess go away.

  And then he’d be no better than Langdon. Using his power to get what he wanted. Believing God had no place in his actions, that God didn’t care. Lou swallowed, his throat tight.

  Right now, with the mustiness of the room in his nose, the impaired light that washed Langdon into shadows, Lou felt as if his soul was being tested. As if his decision at this moment would affect the rest of his life.

  He looked at Langdon and saw himself. The anger over his past. Everything that had gone wrong, things he had no control over, things he’d believed God should control. He’d read enough of the Bible as a kid to know it said God gave each person a free will to make his or her own choices.

  But Sarah and Abby hadn’t chosen to get sick. They hadn’t chosen death. It had chosen them.

  His stomach clenched, but his aim didn’t waver. Langdon watched him carefully, his entire being poised in stillness. Whether they had chosen sickness or not, he didn’t want to be like Langdon, letting his bitterness over the past poison him until there was nothing left but evil. Maybe Langdon had been born this way; maybe there was something off with his mind that had nothing to do with his childhood.

  Nevertheless, Lou felt as if he’d come to some kind of crossroads. A place to make a choice and to change the course of his life. He looked at Langdon and felt anger and pity. Setting his jaw, he repositioned his weapon and gave Langdon a hard stare.

  He knew what he had to do.

  *

  “Got a telegram from Lou,” James announced, coming into the kitchen where Mary had laid out four pies, a cake and a platter of snickerdoodles.

  Despite the delicious scents permeating her kitchen, Mary’s stomach roiled. Six weeks later and the mention of Lou’s name still unsettled her so badly she couldn’t eat. She covered her apple pie with a cloth, noticing how her fingers trembled.

  “He’s left the Orient. Done with special agent stuff,” James added when Mary didn’t respond.

  She didn’t know what to say. She could feel James’s gaze on her and ignored him in favor of covering the rest of her dishes. They’d have to hold them tight to keep them from being smashed in the wagon.

  “You riding with me to the church picnic?” he asked.

  She nodded and handed him her snickerdoodles. “Hold that very carefully.”

  He balanced the cookies in one hand. “Your
ma is staying home, ya know.”

  While Mary and Rose had gone far in mending their relationship, her mother still felt uncomfortable in church-like settings. Mary hoped someday she’d feel good about joining them, but for now it was a blessing she’d stayed.

  “Josie might feel badly that Mother isn’t going,” she said, stacking a pie gently into a Pyrex storage container.

  “Nah.” James snickered. “That girl is running all over the place, and Gracie thinks it’s fun joining her. I’ve got the feeling Josie’ll be riding with Trevor and Gracie to the picnic. You and me will ride in the wagon. We’ve got to get a move on to make it in time. Alma don’t like it when I’m late.” A funny smile crossed his face, and Mary paused with her fiddling.

  Was he in love?

  He caught her glance, but the mooning look didn’t leave his face. “Sometimes it takes an old man time to figure out the important things in life.” He winked at her and left, carrying the snickerdoodles with him.

  She continued filling her pie holder, but her emotions threatened to overflow. She blinked hard and picked up the carrier. The wagon was parked just outside the front door. Carefully she maneuvered through the kitchen door, traipsed down the hall and let herself out into the warm August weather.

  The sun chose to shine today. It was neither hot nor chilly. Perfect for a picnic. She heard Josie’s squeals and watched her balance atop a horse, Trevor and Gracie on either side of the saddle.

  Smiling, Mary loaded the food onto the wagon and then climbed in. James had thoughtfully left a hat for her on the seat. He must have snagged it from her living room. She arranged it on her head, trying to feel happy about the picnic.

  After all, God had heard her prayers. He’d given her a family. Brought her mother back to her, given her a daughter to love. Even James felt like a father to her. With Trevor and Gracie staying at the ranch, she should have felt content with their big family dinners and the long walks they took together.

  She didn’t, though. There was always this nagging awareness of something missing. When she went to town, her eyes caught on every blond man she saw. She paused at the sound of a man’s low tones. Everywhere she went, she thought she saw Lou. She hoped to feel his hand on her shoulder, to see the sparkle in his eyes or the way his lips turned at the corners when he smiled. His ready laugh followed her.