Her heart broke just a little more as she thought of little Jimmy. Losing his beloved mother at such a young age and no longer able to speak. Was it his grief that kept him from using his tongue? Or did he feel all alone? Abandoned? She certainly had felt that way, even though she’d never known her parents. Her grandparents had been wonderful to lavish her with attention and love, but there was still that hole in her heart where her mother and father should have been. If Jimmy felt the same way, then Lillian knew she could use this to help them grow close.
Lillian vowed then and there that she would do whatever was necessary to help the young boy heal. Children were her soft spot. She loved to work with them at church whenever she had a chance. Reverend Owens, back in Indianapolis, had often asked her to schedule special children’s events since their church had grown so large. A wave of grief washed over her. She hadn’t even said good-bye to the children in person. Hopefully Reverend Owens would read her letter to them, but would they, too, feel abandoned? Another wave hit her—this time filled with guilt. Grandfather’s face—the face that she had kissed countless times as a child—appeared before her. Sad eyes. Tears pooling at the corners where he used to say his wrinkles multiplied every time she made him laugh or smile.
She’d abandoned him in his grief. Yes, he’d been miserable to live with the past few years. Yes, she had reached her majority in years and wanted to escape. But the dull ache that pounded in her chest now reminded her of how much she loved the old man. Would the chasm between them ever be bridged?
Lillian wiped at her eyes and shook her head. She couldn’t afford to wallow. It was prudent to keep looking ahead.
“Miss?”
She looked up to find a young man looking down at her.
“Are you quite all right? I saw that you were crying.” He didn’t wait for an answer but took the wooden seat opposite her.
Lillian stiffened, once again very aware that she traveled alone. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She looked back at the letters in her hands, hoping it would dissuade him from further conversation.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you’re traveling alone.”
Lillian squared her shoulders and lifted her gaze to meet his smiling face. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, if that. “I do not see that it is any of your concern.”
“Well, I just thought maybe we could travel together.” He leaned forward with a smirk. “After all, you must be the kind of gal that enjoys a good time. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here all by yourself. I heard tell that women who travel alone are always looking for fun. Believe me, we could have a lot of fun together.” He winked.
She drew in a deep breath and prayed for wisdom. “I do not know from whom you might have received such errant direction, but I assure you that ladies can and do travel alone when necessity dictates, and they are neither looking for fun nor . . . a good time. Furthermore, I cannot imagine that your mother raised you to act in such a manner. How it must grieve her.” The man looked confused, but Lillian continued. “I will pray for you to find your way back to being a respectable sort of man who would make her proud.”
The stranger looked at her as if she’d slapped him. “If you didn’t want to have a good time, you coulda just said so. Didn’t have to bring my ma into it.” He got to his feet and shook his head. “Women sure make no sense.”
Lillian forced back a smile. She waited until the dejected young man headed back to the far end of the car before she let herself relax. This was the first time she’d encountered such behavior, and it had shaken her more than she cared to realize. Again she wondered if perhaps this entire trip had been a mistake. Had she only agreed in order to assert her will upon her grandfather? Was this young man’s behavior the kind of thing she could expect all the long way to California?
She remembered the preacher speaking of how people often acted foolishly and took themselves out of safety for the sake of indulging sinful behavior. Was she guilty of that?
Lord, I’m really not trying to act in defiance. I brought this matter to You and felt confident that this was Your direction for me. If I was wrong, please forgive me and help me to make the best of it. Again that same peace she’d known when first bringing the idea to God in prayer engulfed Lillian and gave her a sense of comfort.
She focused back on the letters and read through the rest, perusing the terms and wages. It seemed more than fair. At least in her opinion. But what would she know? She’d never worked outside of her grandfather’s mansion a day in her life. And in the last five years, she’d rarely left the manor except to go to church. Mr. Colton seemed pleased that she came from affluence and didn’t mind that she had no experience. He assured her she would be comfortable in quarters on the main level of the house along with his housekeeper, Mrs. Goodman. And that the utmost of propriety was to be shown at all times.
A more perfect situation couldn’t be found. Lillian refolded the missives and tucked them in their envelopes. As she stacked the letters and retied the ribbon, she couldn’t help but smile.
A new life awaited her.
Darwin Longstreet hated waiting. First, he’d waited for Pa to die. Then he’d waited to strike it rich. Next, he’d waited in jail. Now he waited to find his gold. All he’d done was wait, wait, wait. And he was sick of it.
Sick of that and being hunted, and because he was hunted, he had to hide with relatives he hated who ordered him about. His father’s no-good brother, John, had no business bossing him around. And his varmint cousins, Saul and David, weren’t any better. Thinking they could do it just because he and Harry lived with them. Well, they had another think coming, that was for sure. Darwin would show them. He’d seen and done a lot in his twenty-seven years. Things that would make Uncle John’s hair curl. They thought he was just an ignorant thief who’d been accused of murder . . . well, if they knew how many lives he’d taken, maybe they’d respect him more. Or turn him in for the reward money.
He frowned. No-good relatives. He couldn’t allow them to ruin his plans. He hadn’t spent all his time evading the law for nothing. That old miner he’d killed didn’t deserve the gold he’d found. He would’ve died soon anyway. He was old and worn out. Darwin just sped up the process. At least he’d been able to hide the gold on his family’s former property before the law caught up to him. Then they’d locked him up. In that lonely little town.
Escape had been easy. Darwin wasn’t sure there was a jail built that he couldn’t find a way out of.
So now his only problems were not getting caught and finding the gold that somehow had gotten moved. That Colton woman sure didn’t know. But Darwin would bet every last sack of gold that her husband did know. He had to. Otherwise, why would he stay? His wife was dead, and the town thought he’d done the dirty deed. There was no reason for Colton to hang around unless he knew there was a payout waiting.
Darwin smiled as he remembered the fear he’d struck in her and her boy. It made him feel powerful—able to lick the world. They were living on his family’s property. Property that should have come to him. But his mother had died and then the bank foreclosed when Darwin had no money for the mortgage. He’d asked for just a little more time, but they refused. Now that Colton man had his property. Not only that, but he’d torn down the house where Darwin’s family once lived and built an enormous two-story home in its place.
Anger surged through him, and Darwin made himself a promise that if he got the chance, he’d kill Colton and maybe even that uppity banker who kicked him off the land. But not before he found his gold.
Darwin thought back to when he’d run across that old miner buying drinks for everybody and flashing around his gold. The man was sitting on a small fortune, and Darwin figured he might as well have it rather than let the old man go on with it. When the drunken old man headed home to his gold mine, Darwin simply followed him and helped himself to the man’s fortune. After he’d bashed his head in, Darwin hightailed it back to the property just ahead of the sheriff, hav
ing no idea how the man had caught wind of the old-timer’s murder so fast. There’d barely been time to bury the multiple bags of gold in various places around the property. He’d taken them on a merry chase halfway across the state before the sheriff and posse caught up to him. It might have been easy for the sheriff to find out about the murder, but the chase was anything but easy. They would never have caught him, in fact, had his horse not gone lame.
And now he was playing the same game, only this time it was men seeking him in order to claim the reward. If Darwin could just keep the bounty hunters off his own trail, he’d be able to get his money and hightail it out of town. Possibly even the country. Mexico was warm and welcoming to wealthy men like him. He could build himself a stone house with a wall around it and have whatever he wanted. With plenty of señoritas to keep him company.
But the waiting was killing him. He knew when he broke out that he couldn’t just go to the farm and collect his gold. The law would have known where Darwin had once lived. They’d expect him to go there. Well, he wasn’t that stupid. He’d waited this long to retrieve his treasure. He could wait a little longer. Once the excitement of his breaking out settled down, folks would start looking for him elsewhere, and then he could go to the farm.
He spat his chewing tobacco onto the floor in the tiny cabin and sat back in the chair. Let someone else clean it up. He didn’t care. He propped his boots up on the table in front of him. As soon as he got his hands on his gold—
“Brother! Brother, where are you?” Stomping accompanied Harry’s childish voice.
“Harry, quit yer stompin’.” At six feet, four inches, his twenty-year-old brother was huge like a brown bear, but his brain was stuck somewhere back in his childhood years. Ma had a name for it, but Darwin didn’t ever care to listen. All he knew was that he’d been burdened with the boy since she died.
His simpleminded brother put a finger to his lips. “Sh . . . okay,” he half whispered, half yelled. “But you told me not to sneak up on ya ever again.” Harry’s head shook back and forth.
“But that don’t mean you gotta stomp everywhere ya go.” When he promised Ma he’d take care of Harry, he’d done it out of guilt. Ma loved the dumb man-child and had protected him from their beast of a father all those years. Darwin didn’t understand why. The kid wasn’t any kind of a help to anyone; he just got in the way. “Where you been?”
Harry shrugged. “I like explorin’ and lookin’ at things.” He crouched down and pointed to the slop of tobacco. “I’ll clean this up. You might fall down.” He shuffled across the room and picked up a rag out of the corner. Three mice scattered. “Can we leave here soon?”
“No. Why ya in such a hurry, anyway?”
His younger brother sucked in his bottom lip. “I don’t like it here. When Ma died, she said I’d get to live with you.” He looked toward the door, his eyes wide as he lowered his voice. “Not with Uncle John.”
Darwin narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “They been mean to ya while I’m gone?”
Harry cocked his head to the side, looked at the floor, and frowned.
“Tell me, Harry. What have those lowlifes done to ya?”
Another vigorous shaking of his head. They probably threatened simpleminded Harry.
“I’ll get ya out of here as soon as I find my stuff, kid.”
“What stuff you lookin’ for?” Harry came closer and knelt on the floor in front of him. “Can I help? I like lookin’ for stuff.”
Darwin sighed. “It’s stuff I hid a long time ago before the sheriff took me away.” Why did he ever open his big mouth in front of the kid? Now there’d be nothing but questions.
“On Pa’s property?”
Darwin sat up straight. “How’d you know it was on Pa’s property?”
“’Cause I followed you. Long, long, long time ago. You had a bunch of sacks.” Harry giggled and covered his mouth like a little girl. “Just like I did last year. But I thought you said you was payin’ ’spects to Ma.”
Darwin pulled Harry closer. “Did anyone else see you?”
Harry’s eyes went wide and he leaned back. “’Course not. It was like hide-n-seek.”
Releasing his hold, Darwin stared up at the big dumb boy and narrowed his eyes. “Well, yeah. That’s the stuff I’m lookin’ for. It’s not where I left it, and so I’ve got to find it.”
Harry stood up and smiled. “I can help you!” He clapped his hands together.
“No, Harry. You can’t help me.” Just what he needed. His imbecile brother following him around. He’d get caught for sure.
“Yes, I can.” Arms folded across his chest, Harry stuck out his chin. “’Cause I know where it is.”
“I done told ya”—Darwin raised his voice as he stood—“it’s not where I left it.”
“That’s ’cause I moved it.” The grin on his brother’s face was like he’d won the prize at a carnival. He shoved his hands in his pockets and laughed. “See? I can help you!”
Moving forward, Darwin put his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “This isn’t a game, Harry. You moved it?”
He nodded and his silly grin grew.
“Why’d you move it?”
“’Cause men came to look for it.”
“And you know where it is?”
He nodded again and then skipped around the room, singing, “I’m gonna help Brother, I’m gonna help Brother—”
“Gonna help him do what?” Uncle John’s gruff voice interrupted. His even larger frame filled the doorway, and the two filthy shadows behind him had to be Saul and David.
Harry stilled and backed toward the corner.
Darwin stepped in front of his brother. “Nothin’. You know he can’t help do nothin’.”
Uncle John moved into the room and got in Darwin’s face. The stench of rotten teeth and alcohol consumed him. “That simpleminded fool better not bring any attention out here. You got it?” He shoved Darwin aside and pushed Harry down into the corner.
Another reason to get out of here as soon as possible. Darwin’s temper flared and he clenched his fists. No one treated him that way and got away with it. They deserved to pay.
And pay they would. Kin or not. They deserved it.
Harry looked up at him, his eyes wide. Darwin forced himself to take a deep breath. He’d never killed anyone in front of his brother. So with the news Harry had just given him, he calculated his next move. A slow burn started in his gut. Revenge was always sweet.
Yes, they would pay.
CHAPTER THREE
The wagon bounced down the road toward Woody’s farm. He allowed the horses to plod along as his thoughts were elsewhere. How could God have permitted all this to happen? Hadn’t he followed Him? Studied the Word? And what did he get in return? Unbearable loss. Grief. A damaged son who wouldn’t speak, and now everyone he knew thought he’d killed his own beloved wife.
God, why do I have to bear up under all this misery? Haven’t I lost enough?
As soon as he let the words float heavenward, he regretted them. God, the Father of all creation, had allowed His own Son to be sacrificed for Woody—and the rest of the world. The ultimate price had been paid because He loved them that much. Woody knew that suffering and trials were part of this time on earth, but he hadn’t expected it to hit him so hard. And to feel so weak and unprepared for it. There were days that he didn’t think he could go on without Rebecca. Especially knowing how she’d been murdered and that he hadn’t been there. No chance for good-bye.
And then, there was little Jimmy. He hadn’t spoken since they’d found him curled up in the locked closet. Bruised and shaking. Not only was his sweet wife gone, but so was his son. Had the boy witnessed what happened to his mother? Or had he been locked up during that time and heard it all? Both scenarios were torturous to Woody. He couldn’t undo the past. He couldn’t undo the pain. And he certainly couldn’t undo the damage the rumors had done.
As the weight of all the burdens pressed down on him, Woody pul
led the horses to a stop. Wouldn’t it be easier for everyone if he just ended it all? His housekeeper would see to Jimmy. She was a good woman who loved the boy as if he were her own grandchild. It would be so much easier to just lie down and die. For several long, painful moments the ominous thoughts refused to lift. Finally, Woody straightened and shook his head.
No. A deep sigh pushed out of the depths of his chest. He couldn’t take his own life and leave Jimmy an orphan. But sometimes, keeping the darkness from closing in was more than he could bear.
With a flick of the reins, he started the horses again toward home. The dark thoughts—thoughts of ending his own life—had come with more frequency of late. God, You know I believe in You with my whole heart. I know You love me. But I’m just not strong enough. I’m tired and I’m worn out. And little Jimmy isn’t getting any better. . . . His prayer trailed off. The words were gone. He hated feeling weak. Feeling vulnerable. And yet, that’s exactly what he was.
The dark thoughts pressed in again. Miserable. Wretched. Worthless. They all described him. And he was useless to fight it any longer. Regret and anger were so much stronger.
As the horses rounded the corner toward home, he saw the gate with the archway and the olive trees beyond. Rebecca stood by his side to make this place not only a thriving farm, but also beautiful. What was the use of it now? To try to sell his goods to people who didn’t know him, while his own neighbors and friends thought him to be a murderer? What good was that?
Once he was through the gate, he slowed the horses again. Jimmy sat in the dirt ahead under an olive tree. Cradling something in his arms. The wind tugged for a moment on the light brown hair of Woody’s boy. And his heart ached. How could he possibly think of himself at a time like this? His son was suffering through the grief of losing his mama the year before. He’d suffered enough. He needed his father.
Woody closed his eyes for a moment and offered a prayer of thanks as new strength took residence and chased the black cloud away. He didn’t understand God’s plan, but he knew that the good Lord had given Jimmy to him. Right then and there, Woody decided that no matter what, he would do everything in his power to help his son heal. He just wasn’t sure his power was all that useful.
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