Without conscious thought, she lit a lantern and unlatched the door leading to the cellar. Moving on tiptoes to avoid waking Miss Melva and Miss Shelva, she made her way to the singing room. As she walked up the center aisle, the lantern light bounced off the polished wood paneling and sent a soft glow over the velvet cushions on the chairs. Such a beautiful, beautiful room . . . A place where she had fulfilled some of her fondest, lifelong hopes and dreams.
She crossed to the stage and stepped between the pillars. Only a few hours ago she’d stood at this same spot and sung her favorite hymns. How had she managed to bring forth song with her chest weighted by grief and guilt? She looked across the rows of now-empty seats. Applause and cries of admiration rang in her mind. Tears stung, and she spun away from the seats. If those people knew what she’d done—who she was underneath the surface—they wouldn’t have cheered for her.
Mr. Baxter had caught her afterward and hissed a warning in her ear. “You didn’t give your best tonight, girlie. Might’ve fooled them others, but I can tell—you was holdin’ back. Don’t you think about holdin’ back come Tuesday. I don’t pay a full wage for half a performance, you hear me?”
Even now, hours later, the malice in his tone made her cringe. How she wished she could go upstairs, pack her bag, and return to Indiana, where she’d feel safe again. She turned a slow circle, taking in the ostentation of the room once more. Its beauty hadn’t changed, but Sadie had. She was now tainted—tainted by what she’d seen, by what she’d done, by what she knew.
Tonight, as she faced her audience and sang sweet hymns meant to show God’s power and majesty, she’d felt every bit the hypocrite. Oh, how she’d tried to lose herself in the music. But she’d failed. The music was lost to her. And she knew the only way she would ever get it back was to rid her conscience of the darkness it now carried.
But how?
“I have to talk to Sid.” Her raspy whisper echoed eerily in the empty room, bouncing from the ceiling and returning to her ears. It was late, it was dark, it might be foolhardy to go out on the streets at this hour, but she had to convince him to turn himself in. And she’d divulge her part—knowingly entertaining men who partook of illegal beverages—as well. How wonderful it would feel to unburden herself.
Grabbing the hem of her robe, she scampered toward the stairs. But as her foot landed on the first riser, she froze. If she told, would she be sent to jail? What would Mama and the children do if she were imprisoned?
With a groan, she turned and sank onto the stairs. The damp of the stairway seeped through her nightclothes, chilling her. She hugged herself, the dark hallway becoming a cell that closed in around her. Sid had told her to keep silent. It seemed sound advice, considering the consequences. But, no! She was finished being a party to illegal dealings. No more singing to the raucous crowd. Mr. Baxter would bluster and threaten, but she would stand firm. Somehow Mama and the children would have to make do with only her mercantile salary.
She jerked to her feet and began once more to climb the stairs. But then she changed direction and returned to the singing room. Pausing in the doorway, she sent one more slow, deliberate look across the beautifully decorated room. From left to right her gaze roved until she reached the row of seats mounted on the short platform along the south wall. Her eyes lingered on the seat Mr. Baxter had assigned to Thad. I’m so sorry, Thad.
Tears spurted into her eyes, and the chair swam. Pressing her fist to her lips, she held back the cry that longed for release. Her chest ached so badly, drawing a breath became torture. So much had been stolen in the past days—the joy her music had once brought, her peace of mind, and Thad. Perhaps, with time and distance, she might one day experience peace again. Perhaps, someday, she might even rediscover the joy of music. But Thad was lost to her forever. And Sid would be, too, if anyone discovered Sid had killed Thad.
She couldn’t save Thad. But she could still save Sid. If they stayed in Goldtree, they’d never be free of guilt. They had to leave—both of them. Away from here, they could forget everything that had happened. Away from here, she would forget about Thad and how special he’d been to her.
Yes, they must go. Now. Before morning light flooded the town and illuminated their wrongdoings. To her sleep-deprived mind the plan made perfect sense. Holding tight to the lantern, Sadie raced up the stairs and to her room. She dressed quickly and started to pack. But how would she carry her trunks down the stairs? Her things weren’t nearly as important as her cousin. She could abandon her belongings for Sid.
On stealthy feet, she sneaked out the back door and across the darkened yard, running as quickly as the feeble light from the moon would allow. She reached Sid’s little house, breathless and panting. Slumping against the doorjamb, she banged her fist on the door. She waited, watching the window for a glow that would mean Sid had awakened and lit a lantern. But no glow came.
She knocked again, harder, cringing as the thumps echoed through the sleeping neighborhood. Several houses down, a dog began to bark, but no sound came from within Sid’s house. With a little huff of frustration, she rounded the house to its rear and stopped beneath the window where Sid’s bedroom resided. She tapped on the glass and tipped her head, listening. Wind rustled in the trees, the dog’s bark became more insistent, but the house remained silent.
Sadie shifted slightly, leaning against the wood siding and peering through the deep shadows. Where could Sid be? Had Asa Baxter sent him on a nighttime delivery? She couldn’t wait here all night—she should go back to the mercantile. Once more, the urge to escape washed over her, but she quelled the desire. As long as they were gone before Tuesday, when Mr. Baxter would expect her to sing again, it would be soon enough.
Hugging herself, she scuffed her way back toward the front of the house. The dog, thankfully, ceased its clamor, but an owl took up a nighttime hoot and a second one answered. The forlorn calls of whoo-whoo increased Sadie’s loneliness. How she wished Sid had been home.
Her head low, watching the progress of her feet as she slowly retraced her steps back to the mercantile, she didn’t see anyone approach. But the crunch of footsteps reached her ears. She came to a halt, her skin breaking out with gooseflesh. She spun around, and a cry of alarm rose in her throat as someone stepped out of shadows. Then she recognized the man’s face in the moon’s glow.
Sid hustled close and took hold of her arm, searching her face. “What’re you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“I came to talk to you.” She pulled loose, examining him from head to toe. Even in the muted light, she could see something was amiss. She brushed dirt and bits of grass from his sleeve. “You’re filthy. What have you been doing?”
He jerked backward, his face pinching in a fierce scowl. “You ask too many questions.”
Suddenly, she knew. She backed away, gorge filling her throat. “Were you—were you burying . . . something?”
He turned his face from her. “I told you . . . don’t ask.”
“Oh, Sid!”
“It had to be done!” He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “Sadie, I told you earlier, you can’t tell anybody. You just have to trust me.”
His hands tightened painfully on her arms, but she welcomed the discomfort. It distracted her from the agonizing pain in her heart. “B-but . . .”
“Think back, Sadie.” Sid’s voice, so low it was nearly a growl, turned pleading. “All the years you’ve known me, have I given you reason to distrust me? I’ve always been there for you, haven’t I? Defendin’ you, protectin’ you.” He shook her again, and she released a whimpering agreement. “Then believe me when I say I’m still protectin’ you.”
He let go of her, and she almost fell. But his arm coiled out, catching her around the waist. He propelled her into the empty street. “C’mon. I’m takin’ you back. You get on up to bed. Go to church in the mornin’ an’ pray.”
Her feet moved automatically in step with his, her skirts rustling with the rapid pace. “Will you be
there, too?”
“No. I can’t. But—” He stopped and grabbed her arms again. Leaning close, he peered directly into her face and whispered, “But you go, an’ you pray, Sadie. You pray for me. An’ for you. If we’re gonna come outta this mess unharmed, it’ll take angels workin’ on our side. So you pray hard. Will you?”
Sadie nodded, too afraid to do otherwise. She cringed as Sid leaned in, but he only planted a kiss on her forehead. When he pulled back, she glimpsed genuine fear shining in his dark eyes.
“Whatever happens, Sadie, know I’m sorry I got you involved in this. Know I didn’t mean it. An’ remember . . . I love you.”
He turned and strode away. Moments later, shadows swallowed his form and Sadie was all alone.
The smell of frying bacon awakened Thad, and he sat up, his mouth watering. He snatched his pants and shirt from the end of the bed and scrambled into them, wrinkling his nose at the musty odor emanating from the rumpled fabric.
He opened the lean-to door and stepped into the kitchen. “Good morning, ma’am.”
Faye aimed a bright smile in his direction. Her hair was neatly wound around her head in the shining white braid, and she’d tied an apron over her dark blue dress. Compared to him, even in her homey clothes, she looked as if she’d stepped out of a bandbox. “Well, good morning, Mr. McKane. Did’ja sleep well?”
Thad took a deep draw of the wonderful bacon smell. “I did, thank you. But please—call me Thad.”
She bobbed her head toward the washstand in the corner. “Left Estel’s razor and soap out for you. He already sharpened it up good. So go ahead an’ use it.”
Thad didn’t hesitate. Getting his face cleared of the scraggly black whiskers made him feel clean all over, even though he still sorely needed a bath and a change of clothes. He finished shaving and cleaned the razor on a length of toweling, then inched toward the peg where his hat waited.
Faye flipped a thick strip of meat. A sizzle rose from the pan. “Where you goin’? No need to check on your horse—Estel’s already gone over to the stable. So just pour yourself some coffee an’ set yourself down. Breakfast’ll be ready afore you can down your first cup.”
Flapjacks browned in a separate pan, their sweet aroma mingling with the rich scent of the bacon. Thad swallowed. Temptation moved him toward the table. But then his conscience pricked. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am, but I shouldn’t be eatin’ up all your food. Besides, I have some business to tend to.”
A brief scowl pursed her brow. “On Sunday?” Her expression cleared. “Oh, of course—you bein’ a lawman, you probably don’t get to quit workin’ just ’cause it’s the Lord’s day. But business or no, you shouldn’t be tryin’ to work on an empty stomach.” She lifted two slices of bacon from the pan and laid them on a waiting plate. With smooth movements, she flipped a flapjack next to the bacon and held out the plate to him. “I might not be able to offer you a feast, but it’d please me to see you make this here sidemeat an’ flatcake disappear.” Her smile turned teasing. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint an old lady now, would’ja?”
Thad stifled a chuckle. He rubbed his finger over his mustache. “No, ma’am, I surely wouldn’t.”
She slid the plate onto the table and pointed to the chair. “Then have a seat.”
Thad decided not to argue. He sat and bowed his head to pray. When he thanked God for the food, he also asked a blessing on Estel and Faye. He ventured a guess there wasn’t a pair of purer souls in all of Clay Centre. When he opened his eyes, he found Faye waiting with the coffeepot in hand, ready to pour his coffee. He accepted the cup gratefully.
“Good to see a young man like yourself givin’ thanks where it’s due,” she said as she returned to the stove. “Too bad you got business this mornin’. Me an’ Estel’d be plumb tickled to have you go to service with us at the chapel. ’Less we’re sick or the barn’s on fire, we never miss.”
Thad chopped free a good-sized chunk of his flapjack and put it in his mouth. Even without butter or syrup, the flaky cake melted on his tongue. Faye’s flapjacks rivaled Cora’s. He picked up a piece of bacon and blew on it. “When I’m home, I don’t miss, either. But today . . .” As he thought about all he needed to do, his appetite disappeared. He dropped the bacon without tasting it.
“Somethin’ wrong?” Faye asked.
Thad sighed. “A whole lot. But—”
The front door burst open and Estel stepped through. “Mr. McKane, I’m afeared I got some bad news for you.”
34
For the first time she could remember, Sadie didn’t attend church services on Sunday morning. She was awake—she hadn’t slept all night—but when Miss Shelva tapped on her door and asked if she was ready for breakfast, Sadie called through the closed door, “I’m not feeling well. Please let me rest.”
The twins stood in the hallway and argued for several minutes about whether or not they should enter the room and check on their clerk or leave her in peace, but to Sadie’s relief they finally headed to their own church and left her alone. The moment they departed, she jumped up, pulled one of her trunks from the corner, and began packing. Tears stung behind her nose as she layered her photographs between items of clothing, hiding her family’s faces from view. They seemed to stare at her in reproach from their little frames. She deserved their censure. She’d certainly let them down.
Before covering the family portrait, she took a moment to gaze into Papa’s face. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she flipped the skirt of one of her dresses over the photograph and slapped down the lid of the trunk. Turning and sitting on the chest, she let her head hang low. Papa had done his best to teach her right from wrong. He’d be heartsick to know how far she’d strayed from the moral values he’d instilled in her.
His final letter sat on her desk, where a shaft of sunlight lit her name written in his hand. She reached over and picked it up, finding comfort in holding the piece of paper and envelope that Papa had held. For long moments she sat with the envelope pressed to her chest, loneliness for her stepfather creating an ache in her stomach. Needing a stronger connection to the man who had raised her, she started to open the envelope and reread the letter.
But then another idea struck. The Bible. Papa gained his strength, his wisdom, his creed by which to live from God’s holy word. She searched her memory, trying to recall the last passage she’d heard him read aloud before she moved to Goldtree. She believed it was in Hebrews.
Eager to revisit the words, she dashed to her bedside table and snatched up her Bible. Her fingers moved nimbly, easily locating the book of Hebrews. She lay the open Bible across her lap and scanned the words until she reached chapter ten. Then recognition bloomed in her memory—yes, this was the last passage she’d heard in Papa’s voice.
Leaning over the pages, she read slowly, carefully, drawing the deep timbre of her stepfather’s tone from the recesses of her mind. She read straight through, and when she reached the twenty-sixth verse, she gasped. Her stomach trembled, and she read the Scripture aloud. “ ‘For if we sin wilfully after that we have received the knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries.’ ”
She sat upright, her heart pounding. She knew breaking the law was wrong—drinking liquor for the sake of intoxication, tempting men with provocative lyrics, murder . . . All of these things were wrong. Yet she’d unwittingly become a party to each of these sins. And now certain judgment awaited. Even if she escaped Goldtree and started over in a different town, in a place where the people had no knowledge of her former sins, God would know. God would always know. Hadn’t Mama advised, “Be sure your sins will find you out”? Better to be discovered and punished than to carry the weight of guilt or to ignore one’s conscience until it no longer spoke truth to one’s heart.
Sadie set aside the Bible and paced the room. “What should I do, God?” Although no audible answer came, she knew.
She must face the consequences of her choices. But first, she needed to seek forgiveness.
Sinking to her knees beside the bed, she folded her hands and closed her eyes. “Dear God, I’ve done wrong. I sang songs that didn’t honor You. I lied to Thad. I did it because I wanted to take care of Mama and Effie and the boys, but—” Realization struck like a lightning bolt from the blue. Her eyes flew open and she stared straight ahead, shamed by the worst of her offenses.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she bent over her clasped hands once more. “And all of it was because I didn’t trust You. You made it possible for me to come to Goldtree. Papa and Mama both believed it was Your will. But I lost sight of that and took it all on myself. I was wrong to think I had to do wrong things to see to my family’s needs. I needed to do right, to honor You, and trust You to meet our needs. I’m sorry, God. Please forgive me for not trusting You enough. Let me trust You now.”
She remained in her bent-low pose, alternately crying and praying, until a hesitant peace crept over her being. Then, sniffling, she whispered, “Amen.” She shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, and her eyes fell on the open Bible. The twenty-second verse seemed to pulsate beneath her tear-distorted gaze. She blinked and read the verse aloud. “ ‘Let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience, and our bodies washed with pure water.’ ”
A genuine smile formed on Sadie’s face, and more tears ran. But not tears of sorrow or remorse—tears of joy. God had removed her blotch of wrong, washing her clean once more. Her faith had been restored. She didn’t know what would happen next. She might lose her job. She might even have to go to jail. But she would lean on her heavenly Father with the full assurance of faith Papa had taught her.
Song of My Heart Page 27