A Bride at Last

by Melissa Jagears

But he had to talk her into something that would take away the comfort of home.

  He kissed the top of her head and stepped away to hand her the paper. “I thought of something after we split up this morning.”

  “What is it?” She eyed the paper in his hand suspiciously.

  “I can’t let my place keep me from going after Anthony like it kept me from finding Lucy.”

  “You tried your hardest to find her. She didn’t want to be found.”

  “Neither does Anthony, apparently. But nothing’s going to make me give up again.”

  “But your farm . . . It’s your life.”

  “Was.” He took her hand and rubbed his calloused thumb over her knuckles. “You two are my life now. I don’t want to continually fret between searching for my boy or keeping my homestead, like I did in Breton.”

  “And if you don’t find him before the money runs out?”

  “I won’t put you into poverty, but we could search longer this way. I’ll pick up work wherever we want to take our time looking, and if we decide there’s nowhere else to look or the money’s running low, we can settle somewhere. As I can’t put my trust in you for happiness, I can’t trust my land either. I can only trust God will get me wherever He wants me, and I’m sure He’d rather I go after my son than hold on to a patch of dirt. He brought me to Anthony before—He can do it again.”

  The sweet smile on her face felt almost as good as the kiss she was considering giving him—if he was reading that look in her eyes right.

  He took hold of her wrist and pulled her close enough to whisper in her ear. “Too bad there’s people around or I’d take the kiss you’re offering, sweep you off your feet, take you inside, and—”

  “Silas,” she hissed as a man in a dirty Boss of the Plains hat passed by on his way into the post office.

  Silas lifted Kate’s hand and kissed her palm, giving her a look that produced exactly what he wanted: Her cheeks turned scarlet.

  The door shut behind the dusty cowboy, and she gave Silas a sorry excuse for a chastising glare. “You’re going to get us into trouble. No telling what that man thinks of us now—”

  “What could he think that ain’t true?”

  “Come on.” She pulled on his arms and opened the door. “You have an advertisement to hang.”

  That was certainly one way to stop his teasing. “No argument?”

  “As you said, family matters more than possessions. Though I’m going to miss having an orchard—you have so many beautiful trees.” She sighed. “Wherever we settle, promise we’ll put trees in first thing.”

  “Well, that depends on the state of the fields we end up buying, the type of soil and time of year, and the amount of money we have left—”

  “Just say, ‘Yes, my love.’”

  “Ah, so now we’re starting the bossy-woman part of the relationship.”

  Jedidiah glared at them as they entered—as if Kate’s laughter was a hardship.

  “Ignore the grumpy man behind the counter; it’s an act,” he stage-whispered.

  Jedidiah pretended as if he hadn’t heard and grabbed another handful of mail to sort.

  Kate dropped his hand. “Can’t ignore him. I’ve got to check for mail unless you have already?”

  “No, go ahead.” Silas went over to grab a thumbtack off the advertisement board where the cowboy stranger stood reading the flyers. “You don’t happen to be in the market for a homestead?”

  “Nah, looking for work. You know of any?”

  “Not off the top of my head. How long you looking to work?”

  “Up to a month.”

  Silas pinned up his handwritten sales announcement. “Have you checked anywhere already?”

  “A few places.”

  “Are you looking for a good job or just money?”

  The man looked at him warily.

  He held out a hand to ward off suspicion. “Just that I know Ned Parker’s always asking for hired hands. He pays well, since people willing to put up with him are scarce, so if you just wanted cash—”

  “Already tried him. He hired my brother. Said he didn’t need me with the kid he’s got doing the grunt work.”

  “Kid?” Silas’s heart sped up. There’d been no kid at Ned’s when he’d stopped by when Anthony first disappeared. “Boy? Girl? What age?”

  “I’d say a boy of nine, maybe. Didn’t see him but from afar. Mucking stalls.”

  “Dark headed?” At the man’s nod, Silas refrained from grabbing the man’s upper arm and squeezing information from him. “How was he being treated?”

  “Don’t know. Kid was working hard though.”

  “Thanks.” Silas strode over to the counter where Kate waited for Jedidiah to finish going through a stack of unsorted mail. “I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  He shook his head. What if it wasn’t Anthony? They’d already asked Ned if he knew anything about the boy and he’d answered negatively. But Ned wasn’t trustworthy. What if he was treating the child like he treated his ex-wife or the hired hands he’d had over the years? He treated people no better than his oxen, and his teams never lasted long.

  Silas fisted his hands. If Ned had hurt Anthony, he didn’t want Kate around when he gave the man a lesson with his fists.

  Kate cocked her head. “What are you thinking about? You look . . . murderous.”

  He tried to smother the rage that had taken over—he wasn’t even sure Anthony was the boy the stranger referred to. But if he was . . . “I want you to go to Fannie’s and stay there until I get back.”

  “What’s wrong, Silas?” She reached for his arm.

  He cupped her chin. “Trust me.” He shot a glance at Jedidiah. “Maybe you could walk her to your wife’s place after you close up?”

  They all knew Kate didn’t need an escort, but would Jedidiah take the opportunity?

  Jedidiah shrugged. “Sure.”

  Kate’s face turned stubborn. “But I can come with—”

  “No.” He didn’t need more than one person to worry about. “Trust me.” He charged out of the post office and jumped into his wagon. What other kid could it be? No parent in Salt Flatts would allow their child to work for Ned.

  As much as I don’t want Anthony to have endured Ned’s heavy hand, please let it be so. And keep me from murdering the man if he’s indeed working my boy into the dirt.

  Before his team came to a complete stop, Silas jumped from his wagon and charged toward Ned and the stranger setting a corner fence post.

  His tense muscles made his whole body tremor. “Where’s the boy? If I find one bruise on him, just one—”

  “You got a problem, Jonesey?” Ned straightened and leaned on his sledgehammer. “Threatening me on my own property?”

  “Where’s Anthony?”

  “I’m not about to answer a man who’s got no respect—”

  “So help me, Ned.” He charged toward him, fists raised.

  The stranger slid between them and held out his arms. “I think both of you better shut your yaps and talk to one another instead of at.”

  “He knows why I’m here.” He hadn’t denied having Anthony. “I can’t believe you’d steal him away.”

  “I didn’t steal him. The boy said he didn’t want to talk to you. Who am I to tell him otherwise?”

  “If you were a decent man, an adult, instead of the scum—”

  A sharp whistle stung his ears. The stranger glared at him. “I said talk to.”

  To, at, what did it matter if Ned refused to let him see his son? One more minute of Ned’s belligerence and his anger would avalanche. “He’s ten years old, Ned.” His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached. “He doesn’t get to decide where to go without telling his parents.”

  Still draped on his sledgehammer as if he were only taking a breather, Ned leaned over to spit. “My parents never gave a rat’s tail what I did. I was fending for myself by the time I was eleven. I didn’t need or want my parents, so if the boy says he does
n’t want to talk to you, I’m not forcing him.”

  Silas clenched his jaw. Was that where Ned’s meanness came from? “I’m sorry your parents didn’t care, but I care for my son and I need to see him.”

  Ned shrugged and gave him a dismissive wave with the back of his hand. “He’s in the barn. Take him off my hands.” He hefted his sledgehammer with a warning in his eye.

  The barn? Silas left Ned behind. Just thirty yards away, Anthony could’ve heard them arguing and bolted already. Silas picked up his pace. He wasn’t dumb enough to go after a man with a sledgehammer anyhow.

  Shoving the big barn door aside, he stared into the sunny haze, where bits of straw and dust and fur stirred in the updrafts. The air hung heavy with the smell of droppings.

  In the corner, Anthony tossed manure with a pitchfork too large and unwieldy for his slender body.

  Silas blew out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

  Anthony stopped in midtoss, hay and muck falling and splatting beside him. He scowled at Silas.

  Staggering over to a stall, Silas gripped the short wall, giving his lungs time to work like normal again.

  Thank you, God.

  No bruises he could see, and if the boy still had an attitude, his spirit hadn’t been beaten out of him.

  Anthony heaved the rest of the manure off his pitchfork and stabbed the tines into the dirt with a peeved huff. “How’d you find me?”

  No apology, no look of guilt or shame? “Have you any idea what we’ve been through the past two weeks? Looking everywhere, not knowing if you were dead or alive . . .”

  He sputtered and took a calming breath. He had to be composed, be the adult, be the parent, especially given that he had no notion why Anthony had run from him in the first place.

  The boy rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “You didn’t have to come looking. You could’ve left me alone.”

  “I can’t leave you alone. You might not care that I’m your pa, but I am, and God wants me to protect you from here on out. And Mr. Parker’s is not a good place for you to be.”

  “But Madam Star’s place is good for Miss Dawson?” The boy’s eyes narrowed, his voice filled with contempt.

  Silas straightened and blinked. “What do you know about a place like Madam Star’s?”

  He shrugged. “Heard Ned talking about how Miss Dawson might end up there, and Jedidiah acted as if that’d be real bad.”

  Silas let out the breath he’d been holding. “I wouldn’t have let Kate go anywhere bad.”

  “But you weren’t marrying her or giving her any money, so I had to do something.”

  He had to do something? “What are you doing besides running away?”

  “Miss Dawson paid for Mother and me to stay at Mrs. Grindall’s, so I figured I’d pay for her train ticket to go back home.”

  Silas’s body felt numb. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I figured you wouldn’t let me work for Mr. Parker instead of going to school.”

  “No, I wouldn’t have.”

  “See?” Anthony grabbed the pitchfork and scooped another shovelful of manure, throwing a glare that dared Silas to stop him. He tossed a cow chip into a waiting wheelbarrow.

  “How long did you expect to work here without anyone finding out?”

  “Mr. Parker said I could earn enough for a train ticket in three months.” The boy heaved a forkful again, the long handle too much for him to move with grace, but most of the mess landed in the barrow.

  Three months? Looked as if Ned was working him like a full-grown man. “How many hours a day are you working?”

  Anthony scooped up some more litter. “All of them.”

  Silas’s hands fisted and he took a calming breath despite the rancid dust clogging his nose. Ned had Anthony doing a man’s job for a boy’s pay. “After you got Kate a train ticket, then where were you going?”

  “Back home.”

  “To Missouri?”

  Anthony’s face screwed up, and his eyebrows folded in bewilderment. “To you.”

  He suddenly couldn’t breathe, and his heart raced up into his ears. “To . . . to me?”

  “Of course. You’re my pa.”

  Silas’s knees went soft and the weight on his chest lifted. He grabbed the stall’s wooden wall again to steady himself. “You were coming back to me?”

  Anthony set the hayfork against the wall and crossed his arms, but not before Silas saw the blisters covering the boy’s fingers. A surge of pride over his son working so hard without complaint threatened his eyes with moisture.

  “You weren’t helping Miss Dawson much, but you’ve been good to me.” Anthony coughed and waved away whatever he’d inhaled. “Mother never cared much for me except for the times Richard was around.”

  “I’m sorry you didn’t feel as if she cared.” Seemed Anthony wouldn’t have learned anything new from Lucy’s journals.

  He shrugged again. “Miss Dawson has always been nice though. Just wish she didn’t have to leave.”

  “She’s not leaving.” He couldn’t help but smile at the certainty filling his voice and his heart.

  Anthony frowned. “When I get her enough money she can.”

  “She won’t—not now that she’s married.”

  His frown grew deeper. “Who’d she marry?”

  “Me.”

  Anthony swallowed hard.

  The utter relief and joy crossing his son’s face made him shake his head. “I told Kate I made stupid decisions. I thought not telling you about our problems would keep you from worrying or getting your hopes up or throwing fits. But here you are, being the man I wasn’t.” He took off his hat. “Will you forgive me?”

  Anthony ran over and squeezed his middle. “Only if you take me to see Miss Dawson.”

  He smashed the boy’s head to his midsection and ruffled his soft brown hair. “She’s not Miss Dawson anymore.”

  Anthony tipped his head back and smiled. “You’re the best pa in the whole world.”

  Oh, he certainly wasn’t, but he couldn’t tell his son otherwise when his face glowed like that. Maybe, with God’s help, he could spend the next decade living up to his son’s opinion. “I love you, Anthony, more than I knew was possible.”

  Chapter 25

  “You sure you don’t want a cookie?” Jedidiah shoved the platter of snacks Fannie had brought into the sitting room toward Kate. “They’re delicious.”

  Fannie’s mouth screwed up as she looked at Jedidiah askance and refilled Kate’s tea.

  Since they’d arrived, Jedidiah had complimented everything from the boardinghouse’s décor to the food. For a man who’d dragged his feet as he escorted her to Fannie’s after closing the post office, he seemed ready to admire anything and everything about the building and its owner.

  Silas had abandoned her to Jedidiah hours ago without an explanation, and it ruffled. He wasn’t running away certainly, but it annoyed her not knowing where he was.

  Had her sister felt the same when she’d left with Aiden?

  No letter had come from her sister yet, even though plenty of time had passed for a reply. Were they well? Were they still in Georgia? Would she ever know?

  “Where do you think Silas went?” Fannie sat tentatively in the chair next to the sofa her husband had deposited himself on. She kept giving him sideways glances as if to check if he was still there.

  “I don’t know.” Kate took another sip of her tea. “I read all the advertisements, trying to figure out what triggered him to rush off. Something must have given him an idea of Anthony’s whereabouts, though I don’t know why he couldn’t waste the breath to tell me.”

  “Women—always needing explanations when they’re just supposed to submit.”

  Kate joined Fannie in giving Jedidiah a withering glare.

  He shrank a little. Good.

  “Sorry, I’m used to, uh, . . . saying whatever I’m thinking.” He held up his hands, palms out. “Now, I know you ladies probably thi
nk it’s necessary to know everything, but if you trust the man, why you worrying?”

  “Easy for you to say,” Kate muttered.

  “Not all men are trustworthy,” Fannie muttered, her gaze glued to her teacup.

  “No, they aren’t.” Jedidiah smashed his hands between his knees. “But I trust Silas.”

  Yes, she trusted Silas, but she still had the irrational urge to leave Fannie’s and go search for him, or go to the creek and sit and stare so when he returned he’d get a little panicked over her leaving with no explanation too—which would be terrible to do to a man with Silas’s fears and something she’d vowed not to do.

  She rubbed the top of one new boot with the sole of the other. Even with what these new boots symbolized, the urge to run when life was tough pulled at her.

  But she wouldn’t run. She could talk to Fannie about curtains and cookies while waiting for him to return. And once he did, she’d explain how she felt rather than bottle her emotions inside until they pushed her to disappear.

  If Silas was trying to be a better man, she’d work to become a better woman.

  She grabbed a gingersnap and nibbled. Running while eating would be poor manners. She took another bite and chuckled at her attempt to anchor herself with a cookie.

  The front door opened, and a burst of Kansas wind knocked it against the wall. “Kate?” Silas’s voice called.

  Throwing the cookie back onto the plate, she rushed to the foyer and fell to her knees. “Anthony!” She held out her arms and he ran into them. She planted kisses along the part in his hair and squeezed him tight. Then she held him out at arms’ length and scowled. “Don’t you ever run away again. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

  He hung his head, his neck coloring. “I didn’t run away. I went to work.”

  Silas pulled off his hat and clamped it against his leg. “Sorry about running off on you, but when the stranger in the post office said there was a boy at Ned’s, I wasn’t sure it’d be a good idea to take you with, and well, I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

  “Ned Parker’s?” The nasty man who’d asked her to be his woman? Hadn’t they gone by his place last week? “He knew where you were this whole time?”