But the worst part of all was that the stranger was allowed to be so close to Rachel; with his illness, he would see her nearly every time he woke and would hear her voice before all others. No man other than myself should receive such luxury!
Stalking back to his room, Jonathan knew that he couldn’t allow Rachel’s relationship with the man to go too far lest his own dreams and plans for the future be ruined forever.
Somehow, some way, I will get to the bottom of this.
Zachary Tucker crushed the butt of his still smoldering cigar under his booted foot with an angry zeal that would have shocked most of his bank’s customers. His fists were tightly balled and his temple throbbed whenever he gave thought to being denied what he wanted by Eliza Watkins, her drunken brother, Otis, but especially by the woman’s daughter, Rachel.
“Damn their stubbornness!”
Nearly two weeks had passed since he had set foot inside the dilapidated boardinghouse and made his case to Rachel that she induce her mother to take his generous offer and sell him their property. He’d walked away elated, sure that she would make Eliza see reason, realize that they would be so much better off with money rather than memories that would never pay their debts. He’d been confident that all of his problems with the Gaitskill Lumber Company would soon be gone, forgotten in the rousing success of his ever-growing business.
But something had gone wrong.
He had waited, first day after day and then week after week, hoping that Rachel would come to him with the news that they had agreed to accept his offer. But time had passed without a word. Slowly, his frustration had become anger.
“I told you they wouldn’t take the money.”
Zachary turned to look at Travis Jefferson. The man lounged easily in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his hat in one hand as the other absently combed through his thick blond hair. Travis’s words could have been taken as arrogance, a smugness bordering on insubordination, but his face betrayed nothing. Besides, as much as Zachary was loath to admit it, his lackey was right; he had underestimated Eliza Watkins and her brood’s resolve to retain their ownership of the boardinghouse.
“It is unfortunate that you were correct,” Zachary angrily agreed. He made no attempt to show Travis that he was unhappy with his speaking; he had found that every once in a great while it was advantageous to let his underlings believe that they were right.
“I reckon that the question facing us now is what to do about it.”
Without answering, Zachary went to his desk and picked up the latest telegram he’d received from the lumber company. In it, they had informed him of their growing impatience and had expressed just how much longer they were willing to wait to receive what they had been promised.
“Three weeks,” he spat. “All we have left is three weeks.”
“Ain’t a lot of time.”
“No, it’s not,” Zachary agreed. “So whatever it is we decide to do needs to get results.”
Just the thought of his deal with the lumber company going sour was enough to make Zachary sick to his stomach. Not only would he have lost many long months’ worth of diligent work, but the future loss to the bank, and therefore to his pocket, would be almost immeasurable. That he would be thwarted by his dead brother’s family was simply adding insult to injury.
And that cannot be allowed!
“We should do what I suggested a ways back,” Travis said solemnly.
“Which is?” Zachary snapped.
“It’s like I said when the company sent that highfalutin lawyer up here to rattle our cage,” the man explained as he struck a match against the heel of his boot and brought the flame against his cigarette. “You leave me alone with them Watkins folks for a bit and there won’t be no problem that can’t be overcome. It’s mighty amazin’ what a little persuasion can accomplish.”
“You mean hurt them…”
“Only if they’re disagreeable.”
Zachary sighed and turned back to the window. Though he had often used Travis Jefferson’s propensity for violence for his own ends before, breaking a debtor’s arm or silencing a loose tongue, he felt a sense of reluctance to use him this time. He wasn’t sure from where this unwillingness sprang; maybe there were some lingering feelings for his brother lurking in the depths of his heart. The thought of Rachel at the man’s mercy, defenseless and vulnerable, made him a bit squeamish.
Still, he had no doubts what was at stake. If he were to fail in this endeavor, he would never control Carlson. Ever since Mason had foolishly set off for the battlefields of Europe, Zachary had bided his time, made his plans, and ruthlessly followed his own self-interest until he had secured what was rightfully his. Now, on the cusp of getting what he had always wanted, was no time to get cold feet. That Eliza Watkins and her family refused to acknowledge what was for the best wasn’t his fault, and he would be damned if he would be the one to suffer. If they couldn’t see reason, then let them suffer the consequences.
“What would you do to them?” he asked.
“You know me, Mr. Tucker.” Travis chuckled. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Spinning around, Zachary smashed his fist down onto his desk so hard that his cigars nearly jumped from their box. “Tell me what it is you plan to do to them!”
Even in the face of his boss’s fury, Travis Jefferson showed no sign of being spooked by the outburst. Calmly, he took a drag of his cigarette and blew an undulating stream of smoke toward the ceiling. With eyes as flat and cold as stone, he looked at Zachary and said, “If they don’t give you what you want, they will know pain. Whether it’s a broken bone or bloodshed, that’ll be up to them. Makes no difference if it’s man or woman, ain’t nobody gonna keep us from givin’ them lumbermen what they want.”
Beads of sweat stood out on Zachary’s forehead as he contemplated what Travis had said. Agitated, he nodded a couple of times and said, “Good, good… that’s just fine. But for now I only want you to deal with Otis Simmons and not any of the women. Maybe if some harm comes to him, the other two will be willing to make a deal.”
“You sure you don’t want it to be the little girl?” Travis asked. “Nothin’ gets results like harmin’ a child.”
Zachary tried not to show his revulsion as he answered. “Just do as I told you and give Otis a reason to change his sister’s mind. Hopefully it will be the only time you need to make an impression.”
“Then I best make it a good one.”
Before once again turning back to the window, Zachary took a cigar from its box, lit it, and drew deeply of the acrid smoke. Staring out at the bustling street beneath him, he knew that he was stepping over the line; by sending Travis to encourage them to sell, he was giving in to his desperation. But great men didn’t wait for opportunity to come to them, they seized it by the throat and refused to let go.
And that is exactly what I will do!
Chapter Eighteen
RACHEL ENTERED THE ROOM at the head of the stairs carrying a tray with Mason’s lunch and found him leaning back in bed, staring out the window. Sheets of rain pounded against the glass, making it hard to see outside. The fall days had grown much cooler as October turned into November, sending a wet chill down her spine every time she went outdoors. Browned leaves, cascading from the safety of their branches, were carried along by the insistent winds. Soon there would be snow.
When Rachel placed Mason’s tray on the bedside table, he didn’t offer a word in reply. For the last two days, ever since he had admitted his true identity to her, he had largely remained silent during her visits, offering little more than mumbled thanks. With this day seeming to be no different, Rachel started to leave, only to be stopped before she could reach the hallway door by the sound of Mason’s voice.
“The rain reminds me of France,” he said softly, his voice a whisper.
Turning around to face him, Rachel found Mason still staring blankly out the streaked window, his blue eyes fixed upon some distant point. Simply hearing him s
peak gave her heart a start, and though she wanted to say something, anything, that might keep him going, she feared that the sound of her voice would once again cause him to fall silent. So instead she waited, hoping that Mason would find the strength to continue.
“It rained almost every day when I was in France,” Mason finally continued. “Gray clouds seemed to always cover the sky, sweeping out to the farthest horizon, always full of rain. Nothing was ever dry—socks, books, ammunition—and the mud crept into every crevice. You could get stuck with every step if you weren’t careful. Even when I woke up in the hospital, the sun shone only once a week; but that was all right because the pounding of the rain helped quiet the other men’s screams and moans.
“When I was a boy, I used to love the coming of fall,” Mason continued as the faintest hint of a smile curled his lips. “I always looked forward to the changing color of the leaves, the smell of fields being burned, and even the feel of cold rain upon my face. No other season, even summer, could compare. It was so special that I insisted Alice and I be married in the fall…”
Rachel nodded. “I remember.”
The afternoon that Mason and Alice had been married was as gorgeous a day as could have been hoped for. Without a single cloud to mar the September sky, the sun had provided a perfect warmth. Standing outside the church in her best clothes, Rachel remembered that every way she turned, the view was as pretty as any painting. Nearly the entire town turned out to rejoice in the wedding of two of its very best, and the celebration had stretched long into the night.
“Nowadays I can’t stand the rain.” Mason frowned, finally turning to face her with wet eyes. “All it does is remind me of that damned war and the treasured moments I’ve lost and can never get back. What in the hell did I have to come back to?”
“You have to go on with your life,” she soothed. “Once you’re better—”
“It will never be better!”
Watching Mason wallow in his own misery, allowing his many regrets and aching remorse to get the better of him, to simply give up without a fight, made Rachel furious. Still, knowing all that the man had been through, she tamped down her anger; she hoped that by letting him vent his rage, he might get better.
“Your life is waiting for you.”
“Which life are you talking about, Rachel?” he snapped. “The life I left behind in Carlson? Do you think I can just go back to my father and all will be forgiven, the prodigal son finally returns, and that I’ll just be given back my position at the bank? Can you even imagine the horror-struck look on my brother’s face if I were to walk in the door?”
The mention of Zachary Tucker sent a chill down Rachel’s spine. It had been two weeks since he had approached her about selling the boardinghouse. She wondered which situation would have made him angrier: that his offer for their property had been rejected or that his brother was still alive.
“Or are you talking about the life that I have spent the last seven years living, traveling around in the darkness of a freight car, occasionally fighting for my belongings if not my life, hiding from the police, and hardly managing to scrape up enough money for food?”
“So instead you’re just going to give up,” she answered. “Do nothing?”
Mason remained silent, his jaw locked tight.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Mason Tucker,” she warned, her voice allowing her anger to seep in. “Because I never had the luxury of giving up. When my sister died, I couldn’t stay in bed all day, watching the world go by. I had a child to raise, your child, a child who, as far as the world was concerned, had no parents, no one to watch out for her. So I took that responsibility and it changed my life, whether I truly wanted it to or not.”
“It’s not the same,” Mason disagreed.
“The hell it’s not!”
“I had everything I ever loved taken away from me!”
“You act as if Alice’s death affected only you!” Rachel shouted in response. “I miss my sister just as much as you do! Living in this house where the memories of her lurk around every corner, seeing the pity on people’s faces as I walk about town, and even watching Charlotte say something or have an expression cross her face that reminds me of Alice… all of these things are painful! But I have never quit, never walked away from the people who count on me to do what is expected, what is right.”
“Rachel, I—”
“Whether you want to admit it to yourself or not, you have a responsibility to Charlotte,” she barked; this time, she was the one who would not allow him to answer. “It makes no difference that you haven’t been a part of her life for the last eight years, you are still her father! Eventually, you are going to have to own up to that fact for her sake, every bit as much as for your own. She needs to know that she has a father, that she’s not as alone in this world as she believes. While you might worry that you’re not ready, it makes no difference when it comes to Charlotte’s life. None of these choices are going to be easy, they will probably be painful, but you are going to make them, Mason! Of that you should have absolutely no doubt!”
Having said all that she thought Mason needed to hear, Rachel once again turned to the door. This time, when he spoke, she pretended she didn’t hear him, slamming the door behind her.
* * *
Carrying a wicker basket full of freshly folded laundry, Rachel entered her mother’s room still angry from her confrontation with Mason. After leaving his room, she’d busied herself with washing clothes. With the rainy weather she’d had to dry everything in the basement, but no matter how much she tried occupying her day, she couldn’t take her mind off the things he had said.
The booming rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as Rachel set the basket beside her mother’s dresser. Eliza stood in her usual place, peering between the curtains as the world went by without her. She flinched as another flash of lightning lit up the sky.
“I do hope you haven’t let Charlotte outside in this horrible weather!”
“She and Jasper are down near the stove; she’s drawing,” Rachel answered; it had been nearly as hard as pulling teeth to keep Charlotte from pestering Mason. Nearly every chance the girl got, she wanted to be in the sick man’s room asking countless questions.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Eliza exclaimed, clasping her hands to her chest in obvious relief. “Anyone caught outside in weather like this is just asking for pneumonia or to be struck by lightning!”
With her bundle of clothes delivered, Rachel was ready to exit the room, to leave her mother to her many worries, but just as she was about to open the door, she turned back, a question on her lips. “Mother,” she began, “what do you remember about Mason?”
“Mason,” Eliza echoed, her attention pulled away from the chaotic weather, and her eyes focused on some far-distant place. “What I will always remember about Mason Tucker is the first time Alice brought him home and introduced him to me.”
“The first time?”
“He actually took me by my hand and gave it a gentle kiss.” She smiled as warmly as the stove in the room below. “Well, Alice turned a shade of red brighter than any beet! Of course, I was flattered, who wouldn’t be? When you are a midwife, even though your work is important, it isn’t as if you’re often treated as a proper lady.”
“He was probably just trying to make a good impression.”
Eliza nodded. “And at that he succeeded. But it was more than that. He hadn’t acted in such a way to give false flattery, but instead because he had the God-given ability to genuinely charm anyone. He’d already done it with Alice, so why not her mother? How many other people felt exactly the same way when they first met?”
Rachel knew that her mother was correct; the first time she had laid eyes on Mason Tucker, as she carefully peeked through the curtains and spied on her older sister and her new beau where they sat talking on the porch, she had been mesmerized by both his good looks and personality. When she was introduced to him, she’d hoped beyond hope that she hadn’t
flushed with the excitement she had so clearly felt.
“But Mason was so much more than that,” Eliza continued. “In his job at the bank, he had the unfortunate duty of having to speak to those families who couldn’t manage to pay their debts. He had to make difficult decisions, balancing what his father expected of him with what was right. But in the end, he would never allow one of those men or women to give up hope. He kept urging them to work hard, never to give up, and assuring them that everything would work itself out. Stories like Archie Grace’s never happened in those days.”
Listening to her mother’s words, Rachel contrasted the Mason Eliza remembered with the man lying in the room down the hall. In his former life he had never given up; now he struck her as a man no longer willing to fight for what he cared for or believed in. In many ways, it appeared that the man who had left Carlson all those many years ago actually had died on the battlefields of France.
But there was another part of her that couldn’t help but wonder if her mother was also right. Maybe the optimism she remembered in Mason, the refusal to surrender even when things seemed their gloomiest, was still inside the man. Maybe in the face of the trauma he had experienced since returning to Carlson, he only needed time to find the strength he would need to carry on. Briefly, she worried that maybe she had been too hard on him.
“Oh, how I wish he hadn’t died in that war,” Eliza continued. “As much for Charlotte’s sake as for Alice’s or my own. There is no doubt in my mind that he would have made an excellent father.”
Rachel felt faint. Hearing Eliza speak about Mason as if he were dead made her realize just how great a secret she was keeping. Heretofore unasked questions raced around in her mind.
What will be the reaction when everyone learns the truth?
Will my mother be angry?
When will be the right time to acknowledge that Mason is alive?
“Why did you ask about Mason?” her mother asked.
“No… no reason…” Rachel stammered. “It’s just that… I was remembering the day that he and Alice were married… and how different the weather was compared to today.”
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