by Linda Ford
Chapter 12
Sunday morning dawned and Victoria was finally able to breathe a little easier. There had been no further sign of the man asking after her, and she allowed herself to think whatever he sought, it wasn’t her.
Pa rode in after breakfast and Ma rushed out to hug him. He swept her off her feet and kissed her soundly despite Ma’s protests that the girls were watching.
“I missed you,” Pa said. He smiled lovingly at Ma for a minute then looked at the girls. “All of you.”
As Ma fixed him breakfast, Pa told that them that Stewart was over his infection. “He’s getting around a bit. I don’t have to be there all the time though I promised I’d be back every few days to check on him. Now, what’s new around here?”
Ma put a plate of food before him. “A man was in town asking about Victoria. Of course, he didn’t ask for her by name, but everyone knew who he meant.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Like where did we move from? How long have we been here.?” Ma shuddered. “I knew we should have gone to a lawyer and had her officially adopted.”
Victoria knew as well as they that the papers would mean nothing if someone else claimed her. The thought sucked her mouth dry.
“Why did he want to know about her?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Victoria hated seeing the concern in both her parents’ eyes. “He left again. Guess I wasn’t who he looked for.”
Her parents nodded though the worry lingered in their eyes just as it did in her heart.
Pa ate his breakfast then pushed the plate aside. “I’ll change into my Sunday clothes then we better get on over to the church. Who’s playing today?”
“Josie.” She and Eve had already gone. Stella and her children had left too.
A few minutes later Victoria followed her parents across the yard. She and Ma joined Eve in the second pew from the front where they always sat. At least here, Victoria could feel safe and sheltered.
They were about to begin when the door opened. Victoria was too well-trained to turn around until she saw the way Josie’s eyes widened. On the pretext of adjusting her shawl, Victoria stole a glance. An older couple dressed like they were going to a wedding.
Or a funeral.
Obviously from the city. Why so many city visitors all of a sudden? It made Victoria twitch.
She joined the singing and listened to Pa’s sermon, but she was distracted by the visitors sitting in the back.
The service ended, and she stood and turned to give them closer study. But they hurried out the door. Victoria released a pent-up breath.
She hadn’t expected Reese to come. He’d still be watching his cows. Yet, she missed him as they sat around the table for dinner. Teller and two others had joined them, though for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what either of them had said their name was.
Afterwards, Stella and Blossom went to their room for a nap. Donny went outside to play with his toy barn and small farm animals.
“You girls go out and enjoy the sunshine,” Ma said.
The three cowboys crowded to the door.
“Ma, do you mind if I go to my room?” Victoria had no desire to walk with the others.
“You go right ahead.” Ma’s gentle smile informed Victoria she understood her reluctance to go with her sisters. “I know you’re missing Reese.”
Upstairs, she paged through her journals. A record of her four years as a Kinsley. Would that history go on forever? She shivered. Having a strange man ask about her had upset her more than she cared to admit. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth even for ever. After hearing Mr. Bates talk and deciding to leave her past behind, she should not be so fearful.
But what if her past wasn’t ready to leave her alone?
She lay on her bed, turning the pages of her book, Great Painters of the World, and remembering the time she’d shared the book with Reese. She closed the book and lay on her back. A future with a man like Reese was what she wanted. Not a man like him, but him alone.
A knock sounded downstairs. Pa answered the door. Victoria had no desire to entertain visitors and remained where she was. She heard a man introduce himself and his wife as Mr. and Mrs. Hayworth from Chicago.
That was where Reese was from. Victoria sat up to listen.
Her parents invited them into the parlor. Their voices carried clearly up the stairs.
There was some small talk. Then Mr. Hayworth spoke. “Our daughter, Constance, disappeared four years ago. I believe the young lady you call Victoria is our daughter.”
The chasm Victoria had long feared opened up and swallowed her.
As if from a great distance, she heard Pa ask for proof.
Apparently, they’d brought a picture.
Mrs. Hayworth spoke. “She has a birthmark on her left thigh. It’s dark purple and V-shaped.”
Darkness swirled around Victoria as she pressed her hand to a birthmark on her thigh that had that shape.
There was more conversation, but she didn’t hear it. She didn’t want to.
She did not want to be Constance Hayworth from Chicago.
Ma called up the stairs. “Victoria, would you please come down?”
Victoria sat up on the side of her bed. She didn’t trust her legs to carry her down the stairs. God, be my strength and comfort.
She touched her latest journal and got to her feet. Whatever lay ahead, she would deal with it. As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from henceforth even for ever. She said the words over and over inside her head as she went to the parlor and sank to a chair beside Ma.
Ma and Pa clutched each other’s hand. For their sake, she must be strong.
She forced her attention to the couple opposite them.
The man had gray hair and a thin moustache. He wore a celluloid collar and a pinstriped suit. His expression was one of strength and determination.
She looked at the woman. She’d once had blonde hair, but it had mostly faded to white. Her eyes were blue. Victoria knew she would look like that woman as she aged.
They studied her as keenly as she studied them. Mrs. Hayworth’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back.
Pa broke the silence. “Victoria, Mr. and Mrs. Hayworth believe you are their missing daughter.”
“This is a picture of you shortly before you disappeared.” Mr. Hayworth handed her the photo.
Victoria recognized herself. She felt no gladness at learning the truth. “Why have you waited so long to come?”
“We have searched far and wide,” the woman said. “Every lead turned out to be nothing.”
Victoria struggled to contain her anger. Why now? Just when she’d decided she could move forward?
“I’ve had a detective looking for you all this time,” Mr. Hayworth added.
“The man who was here a few days ago. How did he finally find me?”
“I don’t know if he ever would have, except a cowboy from Chicago contacted us. He remembered the publicity when you disappeared and that I had offered a sizeable reward. I’ll be only too happy to give it to him now that I know it is you.”
A cowboy from Chicago. Reese. No wonder he had so often suggested Victoria should welcome news about her past. Her insides cracked open and bled out. To think she had been hoping for a future with him. And all he wanted was the reward money,
“Now what?” she asked.
“We’d like to take you home,” Mr. Hayworth said.
“As soon as you’re ready.”
Tears streamed from Victoria’s eyes. Ma’s too. Pa sniffed.
Home? This was home. But she’d always wondered about her past. Now was her chance to learn about it. Still, she couldn’t think about leaving. “Can I have a day or two to say goodbye?”
“As long as you like, my dear.” The woman seemed understanding, but the man pulled his watch from his pocket, opened and stud
ied it, then snapped it shut.
“I can’t stay long.”
“She needs time, dear,” the woman said in a gentle voice.
Victoria’s heart felt dead. She would say her goodbyes. She would become Constance. Thanks to Reese she would leave behind all those she loved.
Reese had spent a troublesome few days. He’d seen the tracks and knew a cougar stalked the cows. Every night he guarded his animals. They were restless, as if the animal was close enough for them to smell, and yet Reese never saw it.
Sunday came and went. He hoped he could ride into town before the day was over, but three cowboys rode up after dinner. They introduced themselves as being from the neighboring ranches.
“We’re getting together a bunch to hunt down that animal. It’s been harassing all our cows.”
“I can’t leave my herd. I’m here alone.”
“That’s all right. We’ll let you know when we find the critter. You ever lay eyes on it?”
“I’ve seen tracks.”
“Can you show us? Maybe we can trail it from here.”
Reese took them to the tracks he’d seen. “These are fresh ones.”
“We’ll follow them.” The cowboys rode away.
Reese checked his herd, hoping none had been taken while he was away for his dinner. He’d be camping right next to the herd until that cat was found.
Two days and nights he spent there until one of the cowboys returned with news that they’d shot the big cat. “Biggest one I ever saw. But so old he was practically falling apart. Guess that’s why he was looking for easy pickings. We done him a favor shooting him. He was only going to suffer.”
Reese rode back to his house. Had a proper cup of coffee and thought of taking time to bake some biscuits. But his heart called him to something more important, and he saddled up and rode to town.
He saw Josie in front of the church and reined in.
She scowled at him.
He could think of no reason for her to do so. Unless someone was hurt or sick. Victoria? “What’s wrong?”
“How can you even ask?”
He dismounted. “Because I don’t know.”
“I suppose you thought we wouldn’t figure it out.”
He tipped his head back and forth, trying to determine if she was joshing or serious. She looked pretty serious. He glanced toward the manse, hoping Victoria would appear and help him sort this out. She didn’t. “Would you please explain what’s going on?”
“She’s gone. I hope you’re happy.”
“Who?” And why should he be happy?
“Stop pretending. Victoria is gone to Chicago. Thanks to you.”
He raced toward the house, knocked, and then barged in without waiting for an invite. “She’s gone? When? What happened?”
Mr. and Mrs. Kinsley looked up from drinking tea. The preacher waved him to a chair.
Mr. Kinsley waited until Reese sat down before he spoke. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayworth from Chicago came and claimed her as their daughter. She’s gone back with them. As she should.”
Reese couldn’t speak past the darkness filling his thoughts.
Mrs. Kinsley sighed softly. “You knew who she was, didn’t you?”
“I suspected it the first day I saw her. I’d seen her in Chicago with her father. When she told me about her accident, I was almost certain and wrote to my mother to ask if the Hayworth girl had returned home. When she said no, I knew it was Victoria.” He turned to the preacher. “I wanted to tell her, but I wanted to speak to you first so she would be surrounded by your love.” He groaned. “I waited too long.”
Josie had followed him. “I hope you enjoy your reward money.”
He jerked around to face her. “You think I told the Hayworths in order to get money?” He shook his head. “You don’t know me at all if you believe that.”
“They said someone from Chicago saw her and let them know. Who else would it be?”
He told them about Smitty. Not that he’d known the man was from Chicago, but he could be from anywhere that suited his purposes. “All he cares about is the money.” Not how this would upset Victoria’s life.
The preacher nodded. “It’s a relief to know it wasn’t you. But Victoria believes it was.”
Reese shoved his chair back. He strode from the room, ignoring the preacher’s call to wait.
He hadn’t been honest with her. He wasn’t any better than Betty had been to him.
Now it was too late. She had returned to being Constance Hayworth. A rich girl living in a fine mansion in the city.
Not that he’d ever had any hope that she would fit into his simple ranch home.
“Constance, your cousins have come to welcome you home.”
“Yes, Mother.” Victoria had to remind herself she was Constance. She went toward the parlor. One of many rooms in this house. And like the others, it was overfull of fancy furniture and china figurines, with beautiful paintings on the walls. When left on her own, she went from one room to another, solely to admire the artwork.
The Hayworths had pieced together Victoria’s disappearance to their satisfaction. She’d simply vanished one day. They considered every possibility—kidnapping, accident, lost and attacked by a wild animal. Two days after her disappearance, they had received a cryptic note. It will cost ya to get her back. It arrived after a search had begun, after authorities had begun their extensive search, after her father had interviewed men at the foundry.
Victoria assumed Reese had been one of those men. Had her father angered him enough that this was his way of revenge? Even though Reese was only sixteen at the time, he was a man doing a man’s job, and would be under as much suspicion as any of the others.
When no further communication was received, her father and the authorities had determined the note was simply opportunistic. Someone hoping to profit from her disappearance. They hoped that their daughter was alive somewhere, perhaps held prisoner. But perhaps she was dead. They continued the search, always hopeful, yet afraid but needing to know.
But now it seemed the reason there’d been no more messages was that whoever had Victoria had been killed in the train accident. The Hayworths, the authorities, no one had known she was on that train—four days away from Chicago. They were grateful the Kinsleys had seen her in the hospital as they helped with the injured and taken her into their family when no relatives could be found for her.
A nice, neat explanation that did nothing to make Victoria’s adjustment any easier.
She took two steadying breaths before she entered the parlor and was greeted by two young ladies about her age. They simpered and fluttered their hands and eyes. It was all Victoria could do not to sigh.
Smiling and nodding as she listened to these unfamiliar cousins, she wished she could still be Victoria Kinsley.
“How quaint that you were in a preacher’s family,” the one named Agatha said with a shudder. “So many constraints. I cannot begin to fathom what it would be like.”
“I’m sure you can’t.” If only they knew that her life in Chicago had many more restraints than life with the Kinsleys. A few days after her arrival, she had gone to the kitchen and offered to help. The cook blanched. The maid helping the cook fluttered her apron as if to ward off a fainting spell, and Mrs. Hayworth—Mother—had rushed Victoria from the kitchen.
“Don’t bother the help. It upsets them.”
The other cousin, Effie, leaned forward with a sly smile. “Were the cowboys handsome?”
Victoria had enough of the conversation. She fluttered her eyelashes. “Oh yes. You can’t imagine how handsome they are riding those wild horses and swinging a rope while yelling ‘Yahoo’ at the top of their lungs.” She sighed dramatically.
Both cousins pressed their wrists to their foreheads and pretended to swoon.
They stayed another half hour that seemed ten hours long then bid farewell. “We are having a party on Saturday in honor of your safe return.”
“Thank you.” She leaned h
er forehead against the door, wishing she didn’t have to attend.
Mother Hayworth touched Victoria’s shoulder, making her jump and press her hand to her chest.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I know this is hard for you, but things will get easier in time.”
“I suppose so.”
“Come, let’s sit and do needlework. You used to like that.”
She’d begun to work on a needlepoint piece that would cover a footstool. She picked it up to add stitches but after a few minutes she put it aside. “May I play the piano?”
“By all means.”
She played several pieces, but one kept calling to her. The hymn Reese had sung with them. She closed her eyes and played it, her heart pouring forth sorrow and regret.
Mother Hayworth touched her shoulder. “You’re crying.” She handed Victoria a monogramed handkerchief.
“I’m sorry,” Victoria mumbled as she wiped her eyes.
“Come, let’s go for a walk.”
She obediently went outside. Mother pulled Victoria’s arm through hers as they followed the pathways through the groomed gardens.
“You were such a sweet baby. Always smiling and laughing. Everyone commented on what a good-natured child you were. How your father loved to take you for drives in the buggy.”
Victoria listened, trying to associate who she was with who this woman talked about.
They returned to the house. “It will get easier,” Mother Hayworth said.
“I know. May I go to my room?”
“Certainly.”
Victoria kept her pace sedate as she climbed the wide, sweeping staircase and went down the hall, passing so many empty rooms to the one she’d been given. Here were items of her past. A fancy china doll. A collection of books. Schoolbooks that Victoria had looked at, wishing she could take them to Glory and use them to teach the children there.
She opened her last journal. She had not written in it since she’d left Glory. Hadn’t even opened it, but did so now, wanting to touch that life she’d known.