The Fire in Ember

by DiAnn Mills

  “All right. We’ll begin tonight. Hmm.” She whirled around to the empty doorway. “Son, haven’t you found a book?”

  “No, Mama. I’m still looking,” he called from inside the house.

  “He’s putting off helping with the peas,” Miss Leah said. “But his peddlin’ would give us an opportunity to look at a couple of reading primers.” She nodded at Bert and called to Davis. “We’re coming.”

  Once Davis selected a book, Leah piled the rest of the books back into a wooden box, being careful to place two primers on top. She bent to scoot the box under the bed, but it wouldn’t slide underneath.

  “Davis, did you move things around when you pulled this out?”

  The boy, with hair the color of corn silk, frowned. “I did push a few other boxes out of the way.”

  Leah blew out an exasperated sigh that sounded more amused than frustrated. She lifted up the quilt covering her bed. “I do believe you shifted more than one item underneath here.” She pulled out another box and an odd-shaped object wrapped in a tattered quilt. Its shape looked familiar.

  “Is that a fiddle?” Bert bent to the floor.

  “It is. Belonged to my Frank. He was the boys’ father.” She sat on the floor and pulled the quilt from the fiddle as though she were unwrapping a treasure. “We spent many an hour listening to Frank play. We’d sing. When the boys were small, they’d dance. Oh, such sweet memories.” The wistfulness in Leah’s voice and the way she touched the bow saddened Bert. She knew the pain of losing someone she loved.

  The fiddle looked much nicer than the one Gideon used to play. “This is beautiful.”

  “He took good care of it — like another child.” She ran her finger along the length of the fiddle. “Unfortunately I didn’t realize how much I loved him until he was gone.”

  “Did he get sick?” Bert remembered how she’d ached for Gideon when he died. How she ached for him still.

  Leah glanced at Davis, who appeared to be absorbed in a book about animals. She mouthed “Gunned down.”

  Bert gasped. She’d thought this good family hadn’t known the ugliness of life. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “It’s been five and a half years,” Leah said softly. “He’d taken a job for his brother, who was the town marshal, when a gang of outlaws shot him. Dumped his body at our front door.”

  “How awful.” Bert had seen killing, and the sight of blood and vacant eyes stalked her sleeping hours. She’d do anything to keep from dying.

  “John found him. Frank died in his arms.”

  “Then those outlaws kidnapped me,” Davis said.

  “I thought you were reading.” Leah’s voice lifted a notch.

  “I am, but I can hear too.” He stood from the opposite side of the bed. “John came after me, but they got him too. It took Uncle Parker and Aunt Sage to free us up.”

  Bert studied Leah’s face. The woman had seen the harshness of life, but she hadn’t grown bitter with it. Bert wanted to be like her someday—not twisted up in anger and lashing out at others. “Maybe we should start on those peas.”

  “Do you want to see the fiddle? I don’t mind.” Leah held it and the bow out to her.

  “I can play enough to get by.” Bert took the instrument and tightened the strings. She lifted it under her chin and lightly touched the bow to the strings. Closing her eyes, she played a tune that Gideon had taught her.

  When she finished, she looked at Leah. The woman’s eyes were filled with tears. “No one has expressed an interest in playing it until now.”

  “I didn’t mean to disrespect your husband’s memory.”

  “My dear girl, you honored Frank. Your playing is beautiful. Where did you learn so well?”

  “My brother taught me. But mostly I hear a tune and can remember it.”

  Leah’s eyes widened, and she turned her head as though she didn’t quite believe what Bert had said.

  “One of the songs at church was about a tie that binds.” Bert closed her eyes and allowed her fingers to play what she remembered.

  “You’d never heard the hymn before?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “What else can you play?” Davis made his way around the bed and curled up next to Leah.

  Bert shrugged. “Not sure. I make up a lot of songs.”

  “Then share one.” Leah touched the knee of Bert’s britches, a pair Mark had outgrown that Bert wore for chores.

  Bert put together a few quick words, and a lively tune danced across her mind. “I’ll do my best.”

  Leah and Davis smiled their encouragement.

  I don’t like to pick peas.

  Don’t like to shell them either,

  But when my bowl is empty

  I’ve worked into a fever.

  “How grand.” Leah laughed. “And that is exactly how I feel about them too. You have a remarkable talent, a real gift. You must let the other boys hear you play and sing.”

  Gideon used to say she had a gift too. With some gentle prodding from Leah she’d be crying. “I don’t imagine they’d want to hear me play their pa’s fiddle.”

  “Nonsense. It will be a treat for us all.”

  “Do you know any songs about snakes or fish or wild bears?” Davis’s eyes had lit up like twinkling stars.

  “I might.” Not since Gideon died had anyone made her feel special. “What do you say about you and me finishing those peas and letting your ma take a rest?”

  He scrunched up his face. “I already do women’s work.”

  “I could tell you another story. And we could make up a song to go with it.”

  “Like the one you told me yesterday? The bear that was afraid of water was a good story. Evan tells me stories too, but he works a lot.”

  “Today’s story could be about a wolf who forgot how to howl at the moon. And once we’re done, and if your mama doesn’t have anything else for us, we could fish for supper.” She remembered John didn’t want her around his brothers, but Davis was young and so sweet.

  “Oh, I like your idea,” Leah said. “The extra time this afternoon will allow me to finish a new shirt for Evan’s birthday. Gracious. How very fine if you’d play the fiddle for his birthday. Miss Bert, we sure have been blessed since you came to us.”

  Regret wove a shameful thread through Bert’s heart. She hoped they never learned about her past.

  CHAPTER 10

  John slammed the sledgehammer onto the top of the fence post and anchored it in place. He couldn’t remember when Mama had been so happy. He should have been glad for her, but instead he was miffed.

  Just admit it. All right, he had a bad case of frustration and a few other feelings he wasn’t ready to put a name on yet. Why couldn’t life have stayed the same as it was before Bert? For that matter, what was God thinking when He tossed a ragged, pitiful girl into his path?

  Bert’s huge brown eyes and silky-looking hair drove him to distraction, and he couldn’t help but think she needed someone to protect her from whatever or whoever had hurt her. He hadn’t forgotten Victor Oberlander’s warning either. Bert might be only seventeen, but she sure had latched on to a barnload of John’s attention.

  He didn’t have any time for a pint-size woman. She probably couldn’t cook or sew or keep a house neat or help him brand horses or mend fence … but those things didn’t matter. The best thing for him to do was avoid her. In less than four months she’d have worked off her debt and be on her way.

  Evan walked his way with a bail of wire. Diversion. That’s what John needed. If today hadn’t been Evan’s birthday, he’d have ridden into town like he had deputy business.

  Evan whistled. “I’ve waited a long time to be eighteen, and it doesn’t feel any different from any other birthday.”

  John had watched a leggy boy turn into a man. “That’s a sign you’re getting old. In another year, you’ll be heading off to veterinary school in Fort Collins.”

  “At last I’ll be learning how to doctor animals properlike. I�
��ve been thinking about starting sooner.”

  “Sounds like a fine idea, which means you’d finish sooner.”

  “My idea too. Do you suppose Bert will be around then?”

  John shouldn’t have been surprised, the way his brother gawked at Bert at meals and in the evenings. “Who knows? She’s obliged to us until mid October.”

  “Be nice if she’d stay on. Mama sure likes having her around. And Davis has been tied to Mama’s apron strings for too long.”

  “I agree about our little brother. We need to have him doing more than feeding the chickens and helping around the house.”

  “Wonder when her birthday is?”

  “Mama’s is in January.” John knew exactly what Evan was referring to.

  “I know that. I mean Bert. Wonder when she’ll be eighteen.” He pressed his lips together and gazed toward the house. “I don’t think she’s a horse thief.”

  “I have my doubts. But until she feels comfortable enough to tell us what really happened, we’ll have to wait for the truth.”

  “I’d like to think she’d feel good about telling me—”

  “Any of us.” If today weren’t Evan’s birthday, John would sit him down and talk about planning the future—without a woman.

  “Sure.” Evan breathed out a heavy sigh. “Have you ever felt something real special about a girl?”

  How did he answer that? Be honest. “Yes, the beginnings of what could be called special.”

  “What did you do about it?”

  “Prayed for God to lead me on the right path.” Now that sounded like fatherly advice.

  “Good advice for my birthday. I’ll do the same about Bert.”

  Two brothers fallin’ for the same girl?

  No, John wasn’t falling for anyone. His feelings rose out of nothing more than wanting to protect Bert—like when Leon wanted to string her up. He didn’t have time for any other nonsense.

  Bert thought her insides were going to burst with jumping crickets. And all because she’d agreed to play the fiddle for Evan’s birthday. She’d spent the afternoon putting together a short song and hoped it was fittin'. Too many times, she’d observed Evan looking at her in a way he shouldn’t. She didn’t want to encourage him, especially since the time would come soon when she’d have to leave. John might skin her alive if she considered anything else.

  The eldest Timmons brother puzzled her. Or rather she didn’t quite understand how being around him made her feel jittery—not afraid or excited, just something in between. Goodness, what was she to do?

  For Evan’s birthday, Leah baked a milk cake and showed Bert how to mix the butter, flour, sugar and honey, eggs, and milk into a lovely smelling treat. From the whispers going on, the other brothers must have something special for him. How this family loved one another. Even when they bickered and exchanged punches, they always made up. So different, so very different from what she had experienced with Pa, Simon, Clint, and Lester.

  Made her wonder if she’d fallen and bumped her head, and this place wasn’t real at all.

  “Gift time,” Leah said once they’d all enjoyed huge slices of cake with wild strawberries and cream. “Let’s make our way into the parlor and do this proper.”

  Evan sat on the sofa, which had arms artfully decorated with needlepoint cloths in pretty colors of blue, yellow, and green. The other boys gathered around on the floor and in chairs. Leah disappeared to her room and quickly returned with Evan’s new white shirt all neatly folded. “I thought you might be needing this when you visit the school in Fort Collins.”

  Evan handled the shirt as though it were pure gold. “Thank you, Mama.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll take good care of it. John and I talked about me starting school this year instead of next.”

  Leah smiled through her tears. “Oh, you’ll be a fine veterinarian.”

  “I’ll need to ride to Fort Collins and take the entrance exams. This shirt will make me look mighty fine.”

  Aaron, Mark, and Davis presented him with a new pocket-knife, and Evan made a fuss, turning it over and over in the palm of his hand. With a grin and another thanks, he stuck it in his pants pocket. This family knew what pleased each other.

  John stood, then sat back down. His forehead wrinkled. Studying him caused Bert to fear the worst. What if he’d learned the truth about her and was about to tell his family? But surely he wouldn’t do that on Evan’s birthday.

  He cleared his throat. “When I purchased Uncle Parker’s ranch, I decided when each one of you became eighteen, I’d give you a homestead of your own to do whatever you like—even if it meant selling it back to me at a fair price. Evan, I’m giving you one hundred sixty acres and ten cows.” He stood again and took two steps to shake Evan’s hand. “Your acreage is a new piece on the northeast section of our ranch. I bought it from the Wide O.”

  Silence filled the room. Evan swallowed hard, no doubt to keep the tears from dripping over his cheeks. Bert glanced at Leah as the woman dabbed at the wetness beneath her own eyes. How strange, this moment. If any of Bert’s brothers received a birthday gift, it was stolen.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Evan said. “You’ve been more than generous by offering to help pay part of the fees for school. Thank you, John. I’ll make you proud of me.”

  “You already have.” John hugged him, and this time it was Bert who turned her head to keep the tears from dripping over her cheeks.

  A few moments later, Leah asked for their attention. “Bert has something special for Evan.” She nodded at Bert. “Go ahead, dear.”

  With numb feet and her head spinning, Bert retrieved the fiddle from atop Leah’s bed. She returned, her heart pounding as hard as when she thought Leon planned to hang her.

  “No one’s picked that up since Pa died,” Evan said.

  “I can play some, and I hope none of you mind since it belonged to your pa.” She tucked the fiddle under her chin and clenched her fist to stop the shaking. “Here’s my gift to you. Happy birthday, Evan.” Closing her eyes, Bert hoped the short song would be pleasing to all of them.

  This is your birthday, and a fine one too.

  It marks a time of being grown

  The new things you can do.

  Boyhood pranks are behind you now

  But still you have your dreams,

  You’re one step closer to chasing them down

  By crossin’life’s new streams.

  Once she finished and glanced at Evan, he turned bright red. “That’s beautiful. Where did you learn the song?”

  “She makes them up,” Leah said. “I learned the other afternoon that all Bert has to do is hear a tune, and she knows how to play it. And, like Evan’s birthday song, she makes up the words too.”

  “If I’d have known she could entertain us, I might have asked her to play in the evenings,” John said. “I’d forgotten how much I missed the fiddle.”

  “You’re welcome.” Bert did her best to swallow the lump in her throat.

  “I do say this is the finest birthday a fellow could ever have.” Evan glanced around the parlor. “All of you have made this special. I hope when your birthdays come along, I can do the same for you.”

  Bert returned the fiddle to the bedroom, still nervous, but not as much since the Timmonses appeared to enjoy her song. She set the instrument on Leah’s pretty blue and yellow quilt when she heard a sound. Whirling around, she saw John standing before her.

  “That was a fine thing you did, Bert. I know Evan will never forget it, and I won’t either.”

  The words to respond tried to stick in her throat, but she willed them out. “I’m beholdin’ to your mama for letting me play your pa’s fiddle. It’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen.”

  “And I hope you’ll play and sing for us a whole lot more. I really enjoyed it.” He smiled, and she felt her insides jiggle.

  “I also appreciate the way you’re helping Mama. She’s taken to you, and all of us like to see her happy.”

&
nbsp; “Thank you.”

  He moistened his lips and appeared nervous. “Just wanted you to know how we feel about your friendship and hard work.”

  Anything John Timmons wanted her to do, she’d gladly oblige.

  You’re bein’ foolish girl. Simon will find you … you know he will.

  CHAPTER 11

  Bert tore out the stitches for the fourth time on the small piece of flowered fabric Leah had given her to practice sewing. While Leah’s stitches looked perfect and evenly spaced on a narrow hem, Bert’s looked like her needle had followed a jagged cliff.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever learn how to sew properly.”

  “Yes, you will. Just like everything that’s important in life, difficult things take time, practice, and lots of patience.”

  “I’m short on the last one.”

  Leah laughed softly. “Oh, we all are.” She reached over and touched the ends of Bert’s hair. “This is growing fast. Before long, it will be trailing down your back.”

  “Hasn’t been long since I was a little girl.”

  “Did you want it shorter to make folks think you were a boy?”

  The old familiar fear seized her. She remembered the last time Clint and Lester held her down and Simon chopped off her hair with his knife. “Sometimes.”

  “You’re pale. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  The less any of them knew about her, the better. “No ma’am.”

  “Why? I can tell you’re afraid. We can’t help you if you don’t tell us about yourself. John’s deputy work brings him in contact with important people, and the boys’ Uncle Parker in Denver knows a lot about law. He represents this area in the legislature and is highly respected.”

  This family had its share of law abiding people. A terrifying thought. “I’m only here until my debt is paid.”

  Leah stiffened. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What do you mean? Has John decided I’m not doing my share of work?”

  “Not at all. When the boys are in school, John pays hired hands a dollar a day. My point is, he’s more generous to them.”