by Linda Ford
“Good food.” He nodded to Josie. Wondered at the caution in her eyes. It might be because he was poor and homeless, but why should that matter to her unless she thought he meant to take advantage of their hospitality?
“I’ll find a way to pay for my meals,” he said with enough firmness to make her blink. He studied her a moment longer. She wore a blue shirtwaist, the color of a warm summer sky. Too bad the warmth didn’t extend to her brown eyes.
“Our hospitality is free,” the preacher said. “Now tell us about yourself, Walker. Where are you from, and where are you going?”
“I’m originally from Texas. My father and uncle owned a ranch there, but they parted ways and sold the ranch.”
Donny edged forward. “I’m gonna own a ranch someday. Was it a big one? Who bought it?”
“Son.” His mother sounded weary, and Walker gave her further study. She was pale. Her dark blue dress hung from her too-thin frame.
“It’s okay,” Walker assured the woman. He squeezed Donny’s shoulder. “It was only a small ranch, and some neighbors bought it. Me and my folks moved on. We settled in Kansas. My pa died three years ago, and Ma passed last year. Before she died, I promised her I’d look up my uncle. She said the last they heard from him he was in Montana Territory near a place called Bella Creek.”
“You’re almost there. It’s a good day’s travel north of here,” the preacher said.
“I’ll be on my way as soon as I can buy a horse.” But thanks to the robbery, he was flat broke with no prospects of a job. Perhaps a nearby ranch would hire him and provide horse and tack until he could afford to buy his own.
“No need to rush away,” the preacher said.
Donny squirmed. Walker could tell he wanted to speak but didn’t want to interrupt.
“What is it?” he asked the boy.
“Does your uncle own a ranch? Are you going to work for him?”
“I don’t know whether or not he owns a ranch, but as to working for him…I kind of planned to keep moving north. I hear Canada is beautiful, and there are big ranches always looking for someone to hire. Or maybe I’ll just keep moving north all the way to Alaska.” He glanced about the table. “That’s probably a whole lot more about me than you expected to hear.”
“No,” the preacher said. “Just about the right amount. I wish you God’s best in your journey.”
“Thanks.”
The meal ended, and the preacher rose. “I need to get that addition finished while I have a chance.” He paused. “Say, you could help me, if you wanted and when you’re feeling better. I could surely use an extra pair of hands. I’ll give you room and board plus a small salary in exchange for your work. What do you say?”
It was on the tip of Walker’s tongue to say an immediate yes, but he saw the wariness in Miss Josie’s eyes. “There’s something I need to say to your daughter before I give you my answer.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he swallowed hard. He would sooner speak his apology in private, but he must say what he had to say, whether in private or public.
“I apologize for judging your comment about poor, homeless cowboys. It wasn’t my business, nor did I have the right to make it so. I fear I have offended you. I’m sorry. I’d like to help your pa, but I won’t unless you can assure me you forgive me and that you are comfortable with me being here.” It was one of the longest speeches he’d ever made. Seems he’d been robbed of more than his belongings… He’d also lost his usual brevity of speech.
She shifted her gaze to a spot beyond his left ear. Her eyes filled with a darkness that sucked the moisture from his mouth. Was she afraid of something? Of him?
Josie knew she had to say the right words, but forgiveness came hard for her. Both giving it and receiving it. He wanted her to be comfortable with him being there. But she wasn’t. Nor could she say why. Perhaps because he had overheard her statement about cowboys, and it allowed him to see more of her than she usually allowed others to see. But he had admitted he was wrong in judging why she would say such a thing.
He would never know how deep her fear of having nothing was. Even deeper was her dread of having people know what she’d done because she’d had nothing.
“Josie.” Pa spoke quietly.
She brought her gaze to Walker’s. “I don’t object to you staying. Pa could use the help.”
Walker’s eyes narrowed. “Does that mean you forgive me?”
She forced a smile to her lips. “I suppose it does.” How often she had wondered if forgiveness would be so readily given to her if people knew the truth about her. Ma and Pa had said her past didn’t matter to them, but then they were far more charitable than most and didn’t know everything she’d done.
“Good. Good. Walker, why don’t I show you what I’m in the midst of doing?” Pa led the man from the room, and Josie’s shoulders relaxed.
“I’ll help clean the kitchen.” Stella began to gather up the dirty dishes. She gave Blossom a handful of silverware. “Take that to the dishpan.”
Blossom did so. “I ’elp.”
Josie grinned as she took the items. “Thank you.”
“I’m going to help the men.” Donny strutted out.
Josie waited until the door closed behind him then looked at Stella, and they both chuckled.
Stella pulled a chair to the cupboard so she could sit while drying dishes.
Before they were done, Josie could see Stella struggled with fatigue, and Blossom fussed at her side.
“Time to tuck your little one in for a nap. You rest with her.”
“I hate to be so weak, but I can’t seem to help it.”
“You’ll get strong again.” Josie’s sister, Flora, and Kade, who was now Flora’s husband, had found Stella near death, her children also sick and weak, and had brought them to the parsonage to be cared for. As Ma said, it would take time for Stella to recover from such an experience. In the meantime, she was safe and welcome here.
The room grew quiet with Stella’s departure. Sounds of muted male conversation came from the addition. Josie stilled to listen to the voices.
Pa was speaking. “Sorry to hear about your folks. It’s hard to be alone in the world.”
“I’ve had a year to get used to it.”
Josie moved to the open window and unashamedly listened to the conversation.
“You’re young to be without family except for an uncle you seem to have lost contact with.”
“I’m twenty-four. I was twenty-one when Pa passed away. I had a job freighting in Missouri, but when I learned of his death, I went home to help Ma. She wasn’t strong, so I moved her into town and got a job at the feed store. I stayed with her until the end.”
Josie didn’t move away. There was something about Walker’s loyalty to his mother that tugged at her heart. If someone had cared for her like that…
Of course, she now had the Kinsleys, and she would forever be grateful to them.
“Not all sons are as loyal as you were.”
Josie’s eyes stung at the pain in Pa’s voice. The Kinsley son, Josh, had disappeared. And he was their own flesh and blood, not adopted like all six girls.
Pa continued. “I have a son I haven’t seen in two years. We moved here in the hopes of locating him.”
“I’m sorry. That’s got to hurt.”
Pa nodded. “It does some. I continually ask God to help us find him or for Josh to find us.”
“You have my sympathy.”
Pa continued. “I have faith that we will find him. It seems your faith has survived the trial of losing your parents.”
The men came ‘round the corner, and Walker leaned against the bare walls.
Josie couldn’t help but smile. The man’s pose was confident, but his too-short pants and shirt sleeves that ended long before his wrists provided a different picture.
He continued to tell Pa about his life. “Losing my parents was hard but not as hard as the break up and selling of the ranch. I could never understand what h
appened. We were a family. Pa and Uncle Paul were partners. I always thought I would follow in their boots and run the ranch with them. We always talked about it, so I know it wasn’t simply in my head. Then it ended, and no one ever offered an explanation though I asked numerous times until Pa said there was nothing to say. It just was. Ma wouldn’t say anything until on her deathbed, then she told me to find Uncle Paul and say there were no hard feelings. Makes me wonder if my uncle did something like…I don’t know. I’ve thought of it a lot over the years and can’t come up with anything. Did he steal from my parents? Kiss my ma? Cheat? Or did one of my parents do something to offend him? I simply don’t know. Maybe I never will.”
Donny stood beside Walker and imitated his pose.
Josie smiled at the picture of the two.
Then Walker dropped his hand to the boy’s shoulder, and Donny grinned widely, pleased at this small gesture of acknowledgment.
Josie’s eyes stung with tears that got no further than the back of her eyes. She’d long ago grown adept at keeping tears at bay. She was about Donny’s age when she was orphaned. If her uncle had shown the least bit of affection things might have been different, but he made it clear she was a nuisance and a burden. She recalled his words.
“Only thing you’re good for is pretending to be an innocent kid.” The problem was, that’s exactly what she was until she had followed her uncle’s directions so often that she was trapped in his way of life.
Pa’s voice brought her attention back to the trio outside the window. “Do you carry any ill will toward your uncle because of what happened?”
“I regret that whatever happened meant selling the ranch, but most of all I despise the secrecy. Better to know the truth and be able to deal with it.” Walker shifted and looked straight at Josie. She didn’t blink. But she felt his accusation like a sword piercing her soul.
He wanted honesty, but the only secret that bothered him was the longing to know why his uncle left. Seemingly a decent sort of man.
Not like her uncle. He was a cheat and a thief and taught her to be the same. By the time she realized that he sent her into a store to divert the owner’s attention so he could steal something, she was in too deep to escape. When she tried to, her uncle pointed out that the sheriff would be happy to punish her for her part in the thefts. Not until she turned twelve, and Uncle’s partners started making inappropriate comments about her, did he turn her over to the Kinsleys. Or it might have been because she had approached the local sheriff a couple of times trying to get up the courage to tell him she didn’t want to be part of the stealing. Either way, she was glad of a chance to start over.
But apart from what Ma and Pa knew, no one was aware of everything she’d done. Nor would they ever be. Not if she hoped to hold her head up in public and earn a living as a seamstress.
She turned back to the kitchen and set supper to cook.
Sometimes secrets were necessary.
Chapter 3
Walker accompanied the preacher around the building project and listened to his plans to take in those who needed shelter.
“People like you,” the man said. “And Mrs. Norwood and her children. My wife and I know the Lord has asked us to feed the hungry, tend the sick, and take in the stranger.”
“‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ Ma taught me that passage. I’m grateful I found your home.”
“Your mother was a godly woman.”
“She was. And she used every opportunity to impress God’s truth upon me. She said she knew she wouldn’t be around forever to guide me, so she was building a sure foundation for my faith.”
The preacher took him inside and explained how he meant to lay out the various rooms. Mostly they talked about personal matters. Walker found it easy to tell the preacher about his family and his travels.
The afternoon soon passed, and at Miss Josie’s call, they returned to the kitchen for supper.
Walker found he had a hearty appetite after going hungry the last five days. At the preacher’s invitation, he took a second helping of the mashed potatoes, brown gravy, roast venison, and garden-fresh vegetables.
“It’s an excellent meal.” He directed his comment to Josie, knowing she had prepared the food. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed such fare.”
“How come?” Donny asked. “Just ’cause you were losted?”
Walker waved away Mrs. Norwood’s scolding. “I don’t mind answering the boy.” He turned to Donny. “At first, it was because my mama was sick and couldn’t cook, so I did it. I’ll be the first to say I have very few cooking skills, though I have learned some basics. Then I was traveling. Once I worked for a crew who had a good cook.” He sighed, remembering, then shrugged. “Next crew I was on had a cook who managed to burn everything.”
“Miss Josie don’t burn stuff,” Donny said.
“Doesn’t,” his mother corrected.
“Doesn’t what?” The boy seemed genuinely confused.
“Doesn’t burn things.”
“That’s what I said.”
The adults grinned at each other. Walker shifted his gaze from Mrs. Norwood to the preacher and last, to Miss Josie. She grinned at the child and then, as if feeling his attention on her, slowly turned to him. Her smile flattened. She jerked to her feet. “I made dessert.” She filled individual bowls at the cupboard and carried them to the table.
The preacher ate his rice pudding and pushed his bowl away. “I need to do some studying for my sermon.”
“Sir,” Walker said, “should I work on the building?”
Pastor Kinsley considered his question. “You’ve just suffered an injury and gone hungry for a few days. Wouldn’t hurt you to rest. In fact, if my wife had been here, I doubt she would have let you be up and about at all today. So, take it easy.” Satisfied, he included the others. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the church.” He paused behind his daughter and squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you for the nice meal.”
“You’re welcome, Pa.”
He left the house. Through the window Walker watched him cross to the church. What was he supposed to do with himself? He wasn’t much good at twiddling his thumbs, even if his head still hurt and he felt weaker than normal.
Little Blossom’s head tipped toward the table.
Miss Josie noticed. “Stella, take her to bed. You go too. You look weary.”
“I hate to leave you with all the work.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’ll help,” Walker said.
Two women stared at him. Donny’s mouth fell open. He closed it. “But you’re a cowboy.”
Walker laughed. “Remember I told you I took care of my mama when she was ill? That included doing dishes.” And a lot of other things that would likely surprise Donny and the ladies.
“You run along,” Josie said to Mrs. Norwood. “I’ll manage just fine.”
“We’ll manage just fine,” Walker echoed and pushed to his feet.
Mrs. Norwood helped Blossom down from her chair.
“I’m going to help too,” Donny called after her.
“Good idea,” his mother said. She turned to Josie. “Do you mind watching him?”
“Of course not.”
Donny sidled toward Walker. “I’ll be with the cowboy.”
Walker grinned at the boy. “He’s going to help with the dishes.”
Donny looked ready to argue then tucked in his chin. “I guess that’s what cowboys do sometimes.”
Mrs. Norwood and her little girl went down the hall. A door closed quietly. Before Miss Josie could speak the words of protest that Walker saw coming, he stacked the dessert bowls and carried them to the dishpan. “Donny, you can bring the spoons.” He poured hot water into the basin and started washing dishes. “Donny, there’s a towel for drying.”
Miss Josie stared at Walker.
“Do you object to having help?” he asked.
“No, but I can�
�t help wonder if— Never mind. Thanks for helping.”
Walker wished she had finished what she was about to say. But he wouldn’t prod, especially with the child there.
She scurried around, bringing the rest of the dirty dishes and then putting away things as Donny dried them. Soon the kitchen was tidy.
Donny looked about. “Now what’re we going to do?”
Miss Josie held out her hand. “I’ll take you down to the river to play.”
“Any objections to me accompanying you?” Walker hoped she would find it impossible to refuse him. He had no desire to sit alone in the house.
“Of course, you’re welcome to come too.”
Walker ignored how stiff her words were and looked around for his hat. Remembered he didn’t have one and brushed his hand over his hair instead.
Donny ran ahead of them as they left the house, leaving Walker and Miss Josie to walk side by side. They passed a well-tended garden, crossed a dusty street, and then a strip of green grass. They followed a path through some trees and stood on the bank of a river.
“If I had realized it was this close, I would have washed here,” he said.
Donny squatted to look at a bug.
Walker and Josie drew to a halt to watch him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Walker broke the silence. “I told you about me, but I don’t know anything about you and your family.”
“What would you like to know?” She kept her attention on the boy.
“Your pa said this town is called Glory. How did it come to get such a name?”
She chuckled. Her eyes filled with amusement.
He tried unsuccessfully not to stare, surprised at how the change in her countenance made him want to know more about her.
“Pa thought Glory had been named after a heavenly theme.”
“I take it it wasn’t.”
“Nope. Seems the first store owner would stand on his step and watch the sunset. He’d say, ‘Glory, but that’s a beautiful sight.’” She laughed, her gaze on him, waiting for his response.