by Danni Roan
“Speak for yourself Will,” Taylor the uncle who ran the sawmill spoke up as his youngest daughter climbed into his lap. “I wasn’t overwhelmed until baby number five came along.”
The others chuckled and Blake felt a special kind of joy fill his heart.
“Taylor, you were hopeless the minute you rode into the yard here. You took one look at Isabella and were lost.”
Taylor picked up a roll, tossing it at his older brother who caught in deftly in one hand.
Reginald Ogden had been slower to embrace his life on the ranch, hoping to eventually return to his mother in Pennsylvania, but when Alexis’ little experiment had succeeded in stealing his heart he had succumbed.
Meg walked to the old triangle hanging from the eaves on the far side of the porch and rang it loudly with the steel rod attached to it on a string. As the last echoes of the contraptions’ tones faded, replaced by the peels of children’s laughter and the rough scrape of chairs, Blake smiled at his kin. It was good to be home.
A sudden shuffle of seats, and clatter of feet batted at the porch roof for a moment only to be drowned out by silence as Will Robertson took Katie’s hand, starting a chain around the table before he bowed his head and asked God’s blessing on the food and family.
Blake bowed his head but glanced along the table as a deep peace washed through his heart. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends filled the table with love, acceptance and good will. He wished again that Darcy would have joined them, that she would have accepted the gift that he knew his family would offer. The young woman, would have found welcome at this table, as well as food, fellowship, and fun.
Perhaps, if they survived the challenge before them, he would bring Darcy back to the Broken J once more. Maybe by then she would be willing to hear the words she needed and find a place where she belonged.
The odd thoughts raced through Blake’s mind in a heartbeat, and he focused on the couples seated around the table, heads bowed in reverent grace. He had heard the stories before. He had always known how each of the cattleman’s daughters had found their own true love, but he had never considered it himself.
His life was the law. His goal was to bring security, safety, and prosperity back to his home state. There was no room for love in a lawman’s life.
***
Darcy stared out the window at the prairie. She’d gazed upon the vast expanse of Wyoming’s wasteland for far too many years, but there was something different here. Blake and his family had built something worth having and still found joy in the heart of the land.
It was easy to believe, when you always had a full belly, and troubles were far away. The young man who had brought her to his ancestral home was full of hope, promise, faith. He was naive if he believed that the good always prospered or that the wicked would be brought low.
A soft breeze ruffled the white curtains at the window where she stood, and the smell of spring filled the room with the promise of new life.
Darcy’s hand strayed to the tightly bound bandages that still pressed against the ragged wound in her side and a low burn started in her soul. She would get her revenge on the man who had done this to her. The man who had promised her the brightest of worlds but had only led her into darkness.
Pierce would pay. She would take Blake to where she thought the man was hiding. Take him to the hideout she knew he had been looking for far too long. Together they would bring the house of ill gotten gains down.
Closing her eyes, the moments in the bank flashed through Darcy’s mind again, staggering her body, but steeling her soul. She had to do this. She had to see justice done. Perhaps then she could think about exorcizing her own demons. Perhaps good works and humble living would give her a chance at something better in the next life.
The sound of a horse galloping by made Darcy open her eyes again and she smiled as the bright red horse raced by. The animal was beautiful, strong, and magnificent in its stellar freedom of movement and grace.
Darcy’s heart lunged in her chest, longing for the abandon she saw in the horse’s flight. What would it be like to break free of the cage around her heart and mind? What would it be like to race into the wind with no fear, sorrow, or doubt?
She had thought that moving to a big city would bring that freedom. Then she had believed that Pierce and his promise of wealth would provide it, but now she realized that she had been living in a prison of her own making.
As the horse disappeared over a low rise, Darcy turned, leaning her back against the window sill and listening to the silent house.
Wasn’t she repeating the same mistakes she had made before by staying here while Blake and his family ate together? She had refused to go with the man who had saved her life, effectively shutting herself off from everyone around her.
Pushing off the sill, Darcy paced the room, the low heeled shoes making soft sounds on the solid floor. Chewing at a rough finger nail, she looked down at the borrowed dress she wore. The cheerful red and white pattern, dropped below her hip in a low waist line finished with fine pleats that ended well below her knee. The dress practically hung on her bony frame but Darcy liked the way the skirt flipped playfully along her calf.
The family, though few had met her, had been kind, providing clothing, food, and shelter while she healed. Would it be so hard to go and thank them?
Darcy brushed the borrowed dress clean of imaginary lint then took a step toward the door. She would eat with them then retreat to the safety of her cloistered room.
Each step seemed to take a life time as Darcy headed through the pasture and out through the small gate, heading for the big house that filled the horizon. It seemed strange not to see children running through the yard, or men moving about doing chores. She had grown accustomed to the noise and movement of the ranch in the past few weeks. Now that silence left her feeling more alone than she could ever remember.
Although she hadn’t been outside much, Darcy had observed the ranch routine and marveled at the number of people living and working together on the Broken J to see to its success.
Her family had never seemed to do well, no matter how hard they worked and the harder they tried the more they seemed to fail to make a living in the small patch of dirt they called home. A foul bitterness gurgled in her gut as she walked steadily toward the other house.
Darcy’s brothers had quickly grown into hard men, who seldom smiled, and her father had grown old and weary before her eyes. Life was not kind, but just this once she could be. She could remember to be thankful for this one moment and show up for Blake. Her little Turnip deserved at least that consideration. Darcy’s lips twitched, perhaps he did, but she didn’t have to let him know it.
Darcy had just reached the front stairs when a peel of bright laughter echoed from around the back of the house. Pausing, she listened again as others joined in. Despite herself Darcy found herself smiling and she turned, headed for the back of the house.
Hesitating at the edge of the large gray building Darcy poked her head around the corner taking in the long tables on the back porch filled with smiling, laughing people, eating their meal.
For long moments, she studied the scene, listening and learning as she did so. A big man sat at the head of the table flanked by a younger man who was nearly as big as he was. Beside them a tall, willowy blonde woman settled a fractious child. A curly haired woman, a fine thread of silver hair at her brow sat on the other side of the oversized fellow, chatting and smiling as they spoke in low tones.
On the other side of the table sat a tall slim man whose brown hair had all but turned gray. A beautiful woman with silver-golden hair sat next to him clinging to his arm as she laughed as well.
Clay, Blake, and Meg all sat on the opposite side of the table and Darcy grinned when she caught Meg wagging a finger at the big man who boomed with laughter.
Next, sitting on the bench seats across from each other, like some form of living book ends, were two women who looked exactly alike. They’re dark shoulder lengt
h hair still rich and glossy as if age could not touch them. A thin man with bright red hair, now muted with streaks of white, sat by one woman while across from him a shorter man with sandy hair mimed some parody of riding a horse.
On the near end of the table, Reese and Mae sat skirted by their nearly grown children who chatted with the multitude of other young ones smattered about the table. The whole lot of them ranged in age from a very old and shriveled cow hand on the edge of the last bench, to children who were no more than ten, a motley crew indeed.
The family, as Blake had said, was huge.
Taking a steadying breath, Darcy tried to order her thoughts and recall the names that Blake had mentioned in their chats, then stepped forward and headed for the stairs.
One by one the members of the Broken J grew quiet as Darcy made a slow climb up the stairs. Reaching the porch floor she wiped damp hands down her skirt feeling every eye on her.
“Darcy,” Blake stood climbing from his seat and walking toward her. “I’d like to introduce you to my family.” Gently the man placed one arm around her shoulders, placing his other hand on her arm, turning her slightly so that everyone could see her.
“This is my friend Darcy,” he started smiling at the family, then looking at her when she chuckled at the children’s hellos. “Darcy, this is my family.”
“I’m pleased to meet you all,” Darcy said, before Blake could start naming the myriad of people. “I’ve heard so much about you that I feel as if I know you already.” She offered a nervous smile. “If you’ll continue, as you were, I’m sure I’ll be able to sort everyone out in time.”
“Sounds like a smart woman,” the old-timer chuckled. “Now how ‘bout you get her some grub. She looks like she could use it.”
Blake chuckled. “Stevens, you don’t say much but when you speak it makes sense.”
Blake led Darcy back to where he had been seated a moment ago, while everyone shifted slightly to make room for her. The woman with the rebellious curls hurried into the house and returned with an additional place setting as the noise and chatter began once more.
A warm shiver raced down Darcy’s spine as the jovial conversation resumed. She felt like a puzzle piece that had somehow been slipped into the right spot and everything fit.
Turning to gaze at Blake as he replied to his Uncle Will, she felt an understanding for his desire to pull down the gang. He had much to lose in this world if the gang ever came to this outpost of spirit and determination in Wyoming.
As Darcy filled her plate with the many dishes available she studied Blake’s family, listening to snippets of the scattered conversations. There was talk of cattle, wheat, wood, and putting in the summer garden. Children chatted about school, cutting furtive glances at their aunt, who seemed to all but ignore them.
Darcy peered at the twins, looking back and forth as she tried to find something that would distinguish them from each other. Both women were so similar it was hard to decide but the way the children kept glancing at the tall red-headed man, she was sure the woman was Alexis the primary teacher at the local school.
“When will Lilly, be back?” Mae’s daughter, Madison, asked the woman called Fiona. “We miss her helping out at the school.”
“We may see Lilly this summer,” Fiona said, pushing a hair pins back in place. “She only took the teaching job at Christmas.”
As she ate, Darcy could see the complications of a family this size, People coming and going, different personalities jostling each other, while the typical family frictions must surely exist. Did the family ever have trouble? Did they know the touch of sorrow, anger, or pain? Even so she could sense the love that filled the eating area as the meal finished on a high note when both Katie and Fiona returned from the house with cakes and pies for dessert.
A hush fell over the children that made Darcy grin at the wonder, delight, and awe on their faces.
The twins, Isabella and Alexis, rose as if on command, returning moments later with more coffee to refill now empty cups.
“I get the biggest piece a’ cake!” the elderly cowboy barked as he glared at the children who giggled in reply.
“Uncle Steve you know we cut a special one just for you,” Fiona smiled, kindness radiating from her smoky eyes.
“As the oldest remaining member of the family, I call dibs,” the old man grinned. “That’s how it should be.” Again he glared around the table at the children grinning when they squealed with laughter once more.
In a matter of moments everyone had a lush serving of dessert before them and a fresh cup of coffee. The women of the house moved as if they had been choreographed long ago and knew every step of a large family gathering, finally slipping back into their seats to join in the delight.
Darcy picked at the piece of moist chocolate cake on her plate, jumping when Blake touched her arm. She had never been anywhere like this, or seen so many people getting along. It was overwhelming, hopeful, and depressing all at once, as thoughts of the real world crashed into her once more.
“Are you tired?” Blake asked, his voice was pitched low for her ears alone. “I can walk you home if you want.”
Darcy shook her head, straightening slumped shoulders and waving him off. “No, no. I’m fine.” She turned smiling at him then looked down the long tables. “This looks entirely too good to leave behind anyway. Besides I think I’m finally getting a handle on who everyone is.”
Blake smiled, knowing just how overwhelming his family could be. He was proud of Darcy for braving a family dinner, and he was pleased to have her seated at his side. They had been through so much together already, it seemed right that she should be there to enjoy the meal and family feast.
As Darcy took her first real bite of cake Blake’s Uncle Will spoke again.
“This weeks reading has fallen to me,” Will spoke bending low and lifting an old Bible into his hands. “While the rest of you finish dessert, let me begin. I think after all of this delicious food we might all need a nap, so I’ll get started and then we can have a rest.”
A light ripple of chuckles rolled down the length of the table even as children quieted and parents shot significant looks at their offspring.
Darcy lifted her coffee mug, sipping the bitter brew and wishing it had a good splash of whisky in it instead of fresh cream. The man across the table was reading steadily from the scriptures and the longer he droned on the more uncomfortable she became.
The words seemed to vibrate in her middle, sending waves of pain and discomfort from somewhere deep inside.
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death.
For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh:
That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.
For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit.
For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.
Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.
So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God.
But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.
And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness.
As the words continued and the ache grew Darcy dropped her fork, pushed away from the table and fled down the stairs before anyone could respond.
Blake stood gazing at his family with concern, but not sure what to do.
“Go to her,” Clayto
n said grasping his son’s forearm. “Do what you have to do.”
Blake swallowed hard realizing that once again his father was letting him go. His mother reached for him, grasping him in strong arms and whispering love in his ear then letting him go, as Clay pulled her back to her seat. It was time to go. It was time to bring this to an end.
Chapter 18
“Darcy,” Blake knocked softly on the partially open door of the room the young woman had moved into. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” the word was terse.
Blake pushed the door open stopping just over threshold as Darcy stuffed things into a bag.
“Darcy, what are you doing?”
“It’s time to go.” Darcy stopped what she was doing standing upright with a soft hiss. “You said yourself we don’t have much time. If we don’t go soon, we might not find them all together.”