I carried the box out of the shed and to the half-built house. I dropped to the ground, settling it in my lap, and stared at Walter nibbling on whatever he could find. “Okay, Ma. Sorry it took me so long.”
I pried open the old lid, the metal soft and crumbling. Inside, instead of toys or tokens, like she usually hid, there lay a stack of papers. Mostly envelopes, everything yellowed, the top piece just a folded page. I chewed my lips until they hurt. My heart hammered in the cavern of a chest where Luke used to be. And her. And Becky. My hands trembled as I lifted the page, the paper wavering, her handwriting ambushing me when I saw it. “Ma.” I set the tin box with the envelopes aside and pressed her letter against my lap.
Son. I waited as long as I could to set this box out for you one last time. I knew this last time was coming. It’s near enough I dare not wait longer.
Your father has no idea I’m leaving these letters to you. The hard truth is, he wouldn’t want me to. They’ve been hidden where he thought no one would see, but I’ve seen. I’ve seen them in his eyes and your heart.
Nothing I could ever do for you, or give you, could do what these letters will.
They’re from your mother, your real mother. To Adler, and sort of to you. About you. Read them as you can. I learned on my own she is gone now, may she rest in peace. And may you find peace, also. I’m not sure your father ever will.
From your second mother, one who loved you as if you were her own.
Tears turned her name into something unreadable. Ma. That’s all I ever called her, and it was exactly what she was. I refolded her note and swiped my sleeve across my eyes. The tin box sat on the ground beside me. My other mother was in there. The woman I’d always feared I’d somehow driven away.
When my eyes began to clear, I lifted the stack of envelopes, put them in order by date, and began to read, one at a time. Pages and pages unfolded inside me as I read, more around me, and all in my hands. A young woman who’d loved and lost was there. Loved Adler, until she was wrenched away by her father, a wealthy eastern man far more conscious of social status than he was of the heart. Propriety was his love. Aghast when he discovered his daughter had fallen for a common rancher, he’d let propriety take over.
She was sent back east where she’d come from, and forcibly married to another. She was carrying me, she wanted me, but yet above all she wanted what was best for me. She arranged for me to be given to Adler. He came for me, and she explained my absence by carrying out some elaborate scheme that I’d died. Her husband and her family never knew whose child I really was or that I was still alive. But she did. She kept in touch by mail. And I could tell by what she said and how she said it that Adler never answered her.
I leaned my head back against the side of our second ranch house. I could see those arms crossed over his chest, hear the hammering that never stopped, stare into eyes that never cried, and I understood needing a breather.
The look of death I’d seen on Jess’s face the day I met him must have spread over mine. His face had been a mirror. And the look of love I’d seen every day on my stepmother’s face was there in Regina’s, the eastern woman who refused to go back. Who stood where she wanted. And who loved. Loved her boy with everything she had.
Love was as powerful as death. More powerful. Love overcame it.
I stacked the envelopes, laying my stepmother’s letter on top. I made a noise for Walter. He tossed his head my direction. “What I meant to say was, come on. We got things to do.” Right, this time.
Walter looked baffled for a moment, but when I stood, he understood. We met at his saddle, and I threw it on him. “You better be rested up. Got a long fast ride ahead of us.”
I left the empty tin near our tools and tucked the envelopes and letter into my saddlebag. I’d swing by Pop’s and tell him I had a wife that needed my help. And a stepson, too.
Chapter 62
Cleave is a funny word. A husband is supposed to cleave to his wife. Yet cleaved is how I feel. Split, not joined. ~Regina
“We just got a wire for you, ma’am,” Mr. Greene said, as I stepped to his counter.
“Is it from my father?” I’d wired him, told him to expect me and Jess. Tell people your plans. That’s what Flynn should have done.
Mr. Greene shook his head. “No, from Oklahoma. I think from the same fellow who wired that man you had around. Miller. At least we thought that’s who he was.” He pulled a folded paper from its wooden slot.
“Oklahoma?” Oklahoma meant little, but the name Miller meant a lot. I stared at the paper Mr. Greene slid in front of me.
“You gonna read it?”
Maybe it was a confession. Or an apology. Neither one of which would make any difference. I had everything gathered at home. Jess and I would leave first thing in the morning for New York. With very little evidence, but a lot of prayer. Mr. Gulliver was gone, the bank saying nothing of where he went, the clerk nearest him claiming to know nothing about getting copies of deeds. Doc had insisted I should stay, promised to help with whatever I needed, but I refused. I couldn’t, and he shouldn’t.
The wire felt like fire beneath my fingers. “As soon as I read this,” I said to Mr. Greene, “I’ll send one myself.”
He nodded. I walked to the far side of the room and opened the note.
Deeds to your ranch and other land signed and official. Both are yours, free and clear. Deeds and legalities coming by mail. Calling Ben Miller deceased. You are free to remarry if you wish. Jim Handley, Oklahoma Indian Territory Rangers
I stared at the wire. Deeds. Both? I re-read it again. Ben gone. Willingly. Pronounced dead so he could get on with his life. He’d meant to do this all along. How could our planned parting have meant anything to him when he had a parting of his own in mind? He’d done me as a job, but he’d done it well. Both deeds. I had no idea how he’d managed it, other than coldly. No wonder he treated me as he had. I ran a hand over my face, touched my lips. The kiss. He hadn’t meant that, either, but he’d done it well. Like a job.
“No wire,” I said to Mr. Greene. He said something in return, but I closed the door between us. I’d let my father know tomorrow that Jess and I weren’t coming after all. The ranches were mine. Everything was over.
****
Ted stepped out of the barn and met me at the wagon as I brought Boss to a stop near the door. “It’s mine.” I looked down at him, the reins still in my hands. I’d said it over and over on the ride home, loud at some points, to make it sink in. “This ranch. The other land. Both are mine.”
“You mean ours?” He unhooked Boss from the wagon, his movements tight and sharp.
“No.” And I meant it. I looped the reins around the post and scooted to the end of the seat, ignoring any splinters as he walked Boss to the side and set a halter over his head. “Mr. Gulliver is gone. Did you know that?” I stared down at Ted.
It was like seeing Ted at Flynn’s funeral all over again. Staid. Stolid. “Someone else will take his place,” he said. Boss’s saddle was there on the fence, as if Ted had been waiting. With the same abrupt movements, he had the saddle on his horse, cinched, and ready to go. “Trust me.”
Don’t trust Ted. “They haven’t yet.”
“They will.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. I won’t be dealing with them. Ever. Ben—I mean Rex—took care of everything. Both deeds are signed and legal, in my name along with his. But he’s leaving it all to me.”
“Both deeds? That ain’t right. He’s lying to you again.” Ted’s voice matched his face—no longer staid, but taut.
“I have it on authority other than Ben’s—I mean, Rex’s. No matter what you think of him, Ted, this much he did was good. I’m grateful he did, even though I’m equally grateful he’s gone.”
Ted had more strength in that one arm than I’d ever imagined. His fingers clamped around my wrist, and he yanked me to the ground.
“Ted!” I tumbled against the hard dirt, my arm twisting, the wrench making me cry out.
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“Since that lowdown thief managed to steal those two deeds, what did he do with the rest?”
“The rest?” I tried to sit, turned with the pain, and rubbed my shoulder.
“Yes, the rest.” Ted let go, and I rolled to my haunches at his feet.
“Ma?” Jess came up behind me.
“Go on to the house, Jess. I’ll be there in a minute.” I struggled to my feet.
“You okay?” Jess was eyeing Ted, the hair that fell over his forehead not hiding his frown.
“Git on, boy. This is between me and your ma.”
“Jess does what I say, not what you say.” I turned to my son. “You go on, finish what I asked you to do.” Finish packing, even though we weren’t going. But Ted was. I wheeled to tell the last man on my ranch goodbye.
“Where are the other deeds?” He was close, closer than he’d been.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But I want you to get out. Get off this ranch and stay off.”
Ted wrapped his fingers around my arm again. He squeezed and twisted, I bit back a wince, another scream, as he tugged. “I seen you digging all over this place. Surely you found them by now.”
“I wasn’t digging for deeds. I was looking for Flynn’s money.”
“Ma?” Jess’s eyes were wide, the color of Flynn’s. Brighter.
I shoved against Ted, but his fingers tightened as he spewed in my face. “Flynn spent every penny. He bought up railroad land, just like I told him to.”
“You told him to?” I broke loose and stared into his eyes. “Carlisle and Morgan—that’s you. I’d expected a suit. Culture, wealth, not this. Not someone down in the ranks getting his hands dirty. I suppose Carlisle is the neat one.”
“Where are those deeds?”
Jess hobbled close. He grabbed a fistful of my shirt at my back. I felt the fabric tighten.
“Pa would have told me if he had more land. He told me everything.” Jess leaned forward, his hand still clenched.
Ted laughed. It was ugly. Then he spit to the side, a ball of wet, brown dust rolling away.
Jess knotted more of my shirt in his hand. I felt the tug as his other crutch came up, fast and wide, a long stick aimed at Ted.
Like an opposing weapon, Ted’s good hand struck quick. He snatched the crutch out of the air, yanking my son forward. Jess teetered against my back, both fists holding on, one to me and the other to his crutch. “You’re right,” Ted whispered, jabbing the crutch and yanking my son. “I bet he did, even if you didn’t understand. Where are those deeds, boy?”
I felt the calculations inside of Jess. While he teetered, I could hear him churning thoughts and memories, conversations with his father, hints Flynn had passed on regarding his heritage. Promises. Dreams. Visions that Flynn’s son understood better than anyone.
Jess stopped weaving then. He relaxed. Whatever Flynn had covertly shared, dawned. Ted saw it, too. He yanked Jess’s crutch, his bad arm splicing between my son’s hand and my shirt. I clawed at the air, missing Ted’s arm, the force throwing Jess off balance. Ted latched onto my falling boy before I could, and dragged him to Boss.
I lunged, dug my fingers into the back of Ted’s shirt, pinched skin and fabric as I yanked. “Let him go!”
The arm with no hand, the useless one, wasn’t useless at all. It fell like a club. Ted swung it behind him, and I saw it coming. I heard Jess scream, but then I saw and heard nothing.
Chapter 63
There’ll never be hell again. Not here or there. Only heaven, when I am done. ~Rex
Walter and I bypassed the farmer who’d first pointed me to Regina’s land. He was out in his barnyard, one hand raised as I passed. Fast. I waved and was gone, glad for the wind in my face this time. Focused on the dilapidated barn and house I was headed toward.
The place was quiet as we barreled close. Still house, stagnant barn. A heap of something on the ground in between. As Walter brought me to the mouth of their entrance, the heap took shape. Blue shirt, dark trousers, hips I’d never forget, and red. Red curls spilling out all around her head. I was off Walter the way she’d dove off Boss when we found Jess lying in the prairie. I understood that passion this time. I thought I’d spent it on Luke, but it was back, and even stronger, as I covered the distance quicker than my horse.
“Regina.” I dropped at her back, skidded close, and leaned over her, brushing the hair from her face. A purple lump rose on her forehead, brighter than it should have been against the bloodless color of her skin.
I gathered her into my arms and carried her to the pump. The handle let out the squeal I’d never forget as I pumped up water and splashed it on her face. “Regina. Wake up.”
There was movement in her brow and behind the closed lids, until finally those green eyes fluttered open. Dazed and hazy, their focus too far away, she frowned at me. “Jess.”
I looked around at a barnyard that was far too quiet. Jess might be sullen sometimes, but he’d be out here to protect his mother or tell me to get off their ranch, if he were home.
“Where’s Jess?” I brushed more hair from her face.
She spotted me, then, the green darkening along with her frown. She fought to sit up, arms flailing as she tried to roll away.
I grabbed for arms, for shoulders, for whatever I could, but she slipped away from my grasps and fell to the ground with a groan. “Regina. Stop. Hold still.” I knew I was wasting my breath. This woman never listened, and she fought like a wildcat to get her way.
“Let go of me.” She rolled to all fours, then was quick to settle back to her backside, holding onto her head.
“Regina, where’s Jess?”
She came back to all fours and staggered to stand, battling off my hands as I reached to steady her. “He’s…he’s…” She pinched her face between both hands, tears turning the green to red. “Ted…”
“Ted hit you?”
She frowned, she nodded, she looked where she’d been lying.
I jumped to my feet, wrapped my hands around her tiny waist, and brought her close. “Walter, hie.”
Walter tossed his head over his shoulder, then trotted my way. I had her on him in a second, seated in my saddle. He felt my energy, even though I was sure he had none of his own. He pranced. I reached in front of Regina, grabbed the saddle’s horn, and sailed up behind her. “Let’s go. And this time, I’ll do the holding on.”
And I did, with both arms around the tiny woman I never intended to let go of. Walter burst forward as I leaned into his run, Regina close and leaning with me.
“What’s Ted want with Jess?” I asked through her hair.
“More deeds to railroad land. He says Flynn had them somewhere.” Her voice faltered. She had to be hurting, inside and out.
“And he’s looking?”
“He won’t have to look hard. Jess knows where they are. At least he’s pretty sure.” Her voice dwindled to nothing. She pressed even tighter into my chest.
“Come on, Walter.” Walter seemed to understand English as well as he did grunts and clicks. I let him run as hard as he could toward what railroad land of Flynn’s we knew of, Flynn’s widow—my wife—in my arms.
We cleared the distance in no time. I scanned the creek area where Walter and I had gone that day, then the fields and the prairie, looked toward the knoll where I’d stood with Regina and Jess. Boss was nowhere in sight. Neither was Ted, nor Jess. I reined Walter the direction of the knoll. He understood and barreled for the top. When we reached it, I brought him to a stop. Still full of energy, Walter spun in place. “Whoa, boy.”
“I don’t see them.” Tears were evident in Regina’s voice as we covered a circle, scouring every direction.
“Hold on,” I said near her ear. “Come on, Walter, let’s go.” I dug my knees into his sides and he was off again. Down the knoll to the shortcut Jess and Regina had showed me.
“Why are we going this way? Do you think they’re back at the ranch?”
“No, I don’t.”
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I’d checked Flynn’s tools, and one pick had fresh gouges with traces of limestone. Either Flynn or Ted had dug at rocks, most likely in the place where Flynn had been found dead. My guess was both of them had used it. Flynn first, to bury his deeds as a future surprise for his son, and Ted second, to break off a rock to kill Regina’s husband so he could lay claim to as much as he could. I dug my boots tighter against Walter’s sides.
I gave Walter a tug to slow him as we came near the small hills where Flynn had last been alive. I listened over the sounds of his hooves and the wind he was trying to gasp. “Easy, boy,” I whispered. I stretched around the woman who was my wife and patted his neck. Soaked with sweat. Walter meandered through the twists and turns of the rock formations. I studied the ground, Regina twisting in front of me, holding her head, and looking in every direction.
“Whoa, Walter. There.” I pointed to the dirt where Flynn had been killed. Hoof prints, boot prints, both big and small. “See that gouge?” I pointed at a dig in the dirt.
“Jess’s crutch?”
“Maybe.” The rocks were broken, scattered, but I wasn’t sure they were different from the way they had been the first time we’d come through here. “Stay on Walter.” I slid to the ground. “Stay in the saddle and keep hold of the reins, but keep low,” I whispered. Green eyes, wide with worry, gazed down at me. I held on to the reins with her; I wanted her hand near mine as long as we could.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for being here. And for declaring yourself dead, just so I could have the ranch.”
“But I’m not dead.” Far from it. I squeezed her hand, let go, and knelt to the ground. I studied the rock chips and the prints in the dirt. I’d tracked men before, over harder and grassier ground than this. I looked up and pointed the direction they were heading. There were several abutments of rocks in the direction Ted had gone. “Stay here,” I told Regina. “We’ll get Jess and your deeds.”
The Lady's Arrangement (Help Wanted) Page 27