Delighted but confused at his behavior, Myra bit her lip softly to keep from saying anything. She wanted to question him about this sudden change, but not in front of the girls. Sure it had something to do with the letter he’d read yesterday, she looked away to finish breakfast.
Later, Myra told Johanna to wrap her sister warmly against the January cold and sent Berta and Dora outside into the sunshine to play. Darlene cried, but Myra bounced her in her arms and said, “You’re having special time with Mama and Johanna.” Pacified, the sick child laid her head against her mother. Before long she’d drifted off to sleep so Myra could lay her down on the bed beside her grandmother.
Today she needed to do the laundry. Filling the large kettle, she lifted it onto the stove to heat. As she lowered it to the burner, the front door flew open with a bang. The girls knew to use the backdoor so Myra instantly tensed with concern.
Berta raced into the kitchen and yelled, “The man grabbed Dora.”
Cast all your cares upon him. The verse flashed into her mind. Before asking for details, Myra prayed out loud, “In Jesus’ name, please take care of my baby.”
Johanna already left, not bothering to put on her coat. Wrapping Berta in a tight hug, Myra crooned comforting words while they waited for Holder.
Carl wandered into the kitchen and immediately Myra sent him to fetch Fred or one of his deputies. “Take the horse and think hard about what I told you to do. Carlene will be so proud if you bring help.”
At the mention of the woman’s name, Carl perked up and nodded. No one had been able to convince him that Manny’s wife wasn’t Carl’s twin. Instead of arguing with him, she and Holder had learned to use the fascination for the woman to gain his help.
Holder passed his brother in the doorway. Making as if to put out a hand and stop Carl, Myra stopped him by explaining, “He’s headed to get Fred.” At Holder’s nod, Carl giggled and muttered about Carlene’s being proud as he left the house.
Sitting down in the rocking chair kept in a corner of the room, Holder reached his arms up for Berta. Sobbing, the little girl reached out for her, but kept her hands fisted.
“Relax your fists, sweetheart. Uncle Fred will get Dora back.” He worked the little girl’s left hand open and then worked on her right. Once that hand opened a note fell out and onto Holder’s lap before tumbling to the floor. He and Myra exchanged a startled look, then she picked it up and read aloud.
Be on the two o’clock east-bound train if you want his girl back.
“It must be Oliver. Since it reads his girl, he wants me on the train.” She gripped her hands together tightly and hung her head, “I’m sorry I brought you this trouble.”
Holder rose and walked to his wife. With Berta in his right arm, he folded his left around her. “We would be lost without you. Fred will have an idea to get her back. I can’t bear to lose you or Dora.” His voice ended on a tremor. Hearing the fear in her father’s voice, Johanna rushed to them and hugged her father’s legs. Myra reached down and stroked her light blonde hair.
At Jennie’s call from the bedroom, Holder went to explain the situation to his mother. Myra took a turn in the rocking chair, pulling her oldest daughter onto her lap.
The girl looked puzzled by that. “Aren’t I too big to sit on your lap?”
Cradling her against her heart, Myra kissed her hair. “For just a moment, enjoy being a child.”
Sighing, Johanna leaned back and let tears of fear and grief stream down her face. In a tear-choked voice, she let Myra know how much she loved her. “I’m so glad you’re my ma.”
They rocked for a time, neither speaking but both taking strength from being with each other. Holder returned to the kitchen, carrying Darlene.
“She’s wet and wants Mama.” Pleased by the tender way he carried Darlene, Myra knew not to push him by suggesting he diaper his daughter.
When she returned to the kitchen, Fred sat at the table with Holder, coffee cups in front of them. Using a cloth, Myra picked the pot up from the stove and refilled their cups. Then she sat down and listened to the men discuss a rescue plan that hinged on Oliver not knowing that Dora had a twin.
From the sheriff’s office across the street, Myra watched her brother enter Emma’s Café. Through the large window, she could see him sit at a table. He didn’t have Dora with him, but none of them believed that he would. Myra had been sure, though, that he would want to eat before taking the afternoon train. Fred’s deputy watched the hotel and they had kept an eye on the café.
“It’s time, Myra.” Fred held the door open for her. She picked up Darlene and wiped the little girl’s runny nose before moving out into the street. From the side of the café, Holder nodded to her, letting her know he was in place.
At the café’s door, she lowered Darlene and led her by the hand into the restaurant. Once inside, she walked up to Oliver’s table. After making eye contact with him, she pointedly looked at Darlene before giving a triumphant laugh. Her brother’s face wore a look of shock and followed by confusion. Without saying a word, she turned and left the business.
Outside again, she grabbed up Darlene and raced to hide in the alley behind Holder. A moment later her brother appeared on the street. He looked around and then at Holder. When he didn’t see Myra, he raced in the direction of the bank. Had he left her daughter there?
Hurrying past the brick building, Oliver went farther down the street to a large white house. Going around the side of it, he headed to a shed. A familiar face sat in front of it. Mr. Trapp!
Hanging back at the edge of the white house, Myra and Holder listened to Oliver berate Trapp for letting the child escape. Though the other denied it, Oliver ranted, “I just saw her, I tell you!”
Trapp threw the door of the shed open and pointed, “See! She’s tied up tight in there.”
It was enough for Holder, who stepped away from the shadow of the house and brandished his rifle. “Throw down your gun Trapp and get away from that shed.”
Oliver looked with loathing at Myra and the child she carried. “Twins. Wonder why Strong didn’t mention that?”
The sound of a hammer being cocked behind Holder alerted Myra to trouble. She whirled and saw an older man holding a gun to her husband’s head.
“I don’t like people nosing around my property, Sittig. Wouldn’t take much for me to put a bullet in you just like that sheriff brother of yours did to my boy?”
She watched the man’s finger rub against the trigger of his revolver and prayed. From what the man said, she knew this must be Mr. Strong, the banker. Fred had been forced to shoot Ram Strong two months prior when the man tried to kill a young woman.
Holder opened his mouth to speak, but his wife put a finger to her lips for him to stay silent. Since the man held a grudge against Holder’s family, he could just make the situation worse by speaking.
“Mr. Strong, I just want my little girl. I already love her like she’s mine and can’t bear thinking that she’s tied up in your shed.”
The calm tone of her voice seemed to surprise him. “You don’t sound crazy. I thought I was keeping the town safe by getting rid of you.” The man turned his gun toward Oliver then. “What kind of lies did you tell me?”
Oliver sneered in his direction but didn’t answer the man. Out of the corner of her eye, Myra watched Trapp rush toward Mr. Strong. When he would have jumped at the man, Holder brought the butt of his rifle down on the man’s head.
Now that the men were subdued and Mr. Strong no longer threatened her husband, the worried mother raced into the shed. Setting Darlene down next to her bound and gagged sister, Myra frantically worked to untie the knots while Darlene touched her twin’s hand and babbled comfort in that language they alone understood.
After she removed the rope and gag from the little girl, Myra sat on the floor of the shed and rocked her babies until a smell caused her to leave the shed. Dora had soiled her diaper and desperately needed changing. Crooning to the girls, she headed to the jail
and thanked the Lord in her heart that she’d married a farmer with children.
Chapter 7
The telegrams sent by Fred days earlier proved useful after he arrested Trapp and Oliver. When Myra entered the jail with the twins, he handed her a letter. Though addressed to her, using her maiden name, it had been sent in care of the Idyll Wood sheriff.
“Anything in there that Oliver should hear?” Her brother-in-law raised an eyebrow as he asked.
Picking up on his hint, Myra opened it and then read the letter aloud.
January 2, 1888
Dear Myra,
I was away at your cousin Bernard’s home when a telegram came from a sheriff in Wisconsin (of all places!), asking for information about you. I do hope you aren’t in trouble, though I expect if either of you is in trouble it will be Oliver. Your mother confided once about his tendency to gamble. Most men, I expect, are tempted in some way and that is his cross to bear.
Since I don’t like to share family gossip with a stranger, I decided to send you a letter answering Sheriff Sittig’s question about your history. His telegram listed you as having the same last name. Is he now your husband?
When my sister gave birth to Oliver, she suffered terribly. In fact, the doctor feared he’d lose her that first night. He told her more children were impossible so she spoiled the one she had terribly. Oliver is a self-serving human because of it.
Years later, the son of our childhood friend became entangled with a woman from the lower classes. The girl refused to simply let the baby go to an orphanage and threatened to cause problems. Or some such thing. I confess that I’m rather vague about the details.
I do know that money for your care was sent monthly. According to my sister, the family agreed to pay her and Smithson each month to raise you as their own. You were already a toddler when you entered my sister’s life.
The money would continue until you reached the age of thirty, as I recall. Did you get the lump sum they promised as your inheritance? I expect you did since you were to receive it, if you had married. It would go to either your father or Oliver if you had remained a spinster living at home.
I have broken a promise I made to your dear mother by revealing this. Do not ask for any more details, dear niece.
I look forward to learning more about your new situation. Please let me know where to send future correspondence.
As always, I am your loving aunt.
Winifred Morris
Oliver’s face had turned a dangerous shade of puce and his whole body stiffened. He rose to lunge toward her, but one of the deputies put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back into his chair.
Her brother’s body deflated as if someone had punched him in his middle. “Father promised me that money. I have debts to pay Trapp’s boss and you owe my family.” Starting out angry, his last words ended with a definite whine. “Your farmer could have had you with my compliments after your birthday.”
At that moment, Myra realized her fake brother believed he was in the right. He actually thought she owed him any inheritance coming to her.
Perplexed with his attitude, she glanced in her husband’s direction. With hands fisted, he glared down at Oliver with a look of disgust. When he felt her attention fixed on him, his face softened. Holding open his arms, she moved so that he could embrace her and the girls.
After hugging them, he stepped back with a grimace. “Ugh! Who needs changing?”
She laughed. “How could I have forgotten! I need to find water and a rag to clean up Dora.”
Leaving Darlene with her husband, she moved away with Dora in her arms. Darlene cried and reached for her twin. Dora, however, still said nothing. In fact, she hadn’t made a sound since her rescue.
Following a deputy to a cell, she laid the little girl on a cot. He returned with a small stack of towels and water before hurrying away from the mess she’d exposed when the front of the diaper fell away.
“Well, my little one, you’ve had a rough day. But why won’t you talk to Mama? No one is going to hurt you or take you away from Mama again.” She soothed and coaxed while cleaning the child. While the little girl followed Myra with her eyes, she remained silent until Myra held her close again.
Worried about Dora, she cradled her close and kissed her forehead. Once she was back at Holder’s side, the little girl reached out her arms for him. Holder took her so she laid against his shoulder. That seemed to be the security she needed since gulping sobs erupted from her.
Held in Holder’s other arm, Darlene wailed in sympathy. Desperately he looked at his wife for help.
Rather than offering to take one or both of the girls, she suggested the best comfort she could think of at the moment. “Well, my farmer, let’s go home.”
At the farmhouse, the girls held hands and jumped like joyful puppies at Dora’s return. Berta apologized and hugged her sister tightly while Myra tried to convince her that she couldn’t have fought off grown men. No matter what she said, her instincts warned that the trauma might come back to torment her girls in the days to come.
After reassuring Jennie and eating a hurriedly prepared supper of pancakes and bacon, the family headed to their cabin. Johanna slept with her grandmother, something Myra understood logically. Her heart, though, longed for her family to be together each night. Maybe she could convince Holder to move them into the farmhouse.
Remembering the events of the day, the worried mother told her little girls the story of Jesus and the little children. She emphasized how much he loved them and wanted them to come to him. She helped them imagine little boys and girls sitting on his lap and around his feet. “When you’re afraid, you can imagine you are sitting with Jesus. Then tell him why you’re afraid. You can even say it out loud. Praying can be silent or something that others hear.”
While she didn’t expect the toddlers to understand, Myra was satisfied by Berta’s happy smile. She could tell that the girl accepted what she’s told her.
Typically Berta slept alone in the loft. That night she asked to sleep with the twins. Scampering up the ladder, she returned quickly with her pillow and quilts. Myra made a pallet for her next to the girls and kissed each one before whispering, “Mama loves you.”
Holder already reclined against the headboard when she moved behind the curtain. After she’d washed and donned a flannel nightdress, he held the covers up for her. The floor felt cold against her feet and she gladly hurried into bed.
Reaching the table close to his side of the bed, he turned down the lamp. Bathed in blackness, she spoke first.
With a caressing hand on his chest, she spoke hesitantly at first before finishing in a rush. “I love the way you were with the girls today. It has to have something to do with that letter. Please, won’t you tell me why?”
Rather than answering her at first, he pressed his lips against hers. While she treasured each kiss he gave her, she wanted answers.
When the kiss finished, he spoke and the story of his parents flooded out of him. “My father told me he’d had a wife and daughters before my ma. From what he told me I was sure they’d died.” He stopped to reflect, she thought, on that. It was like he searched his memory for a time when his father had said they were dead.
Myra said nothing. She didn’t wait long before Holder continued speaking. “I know how I’ve treated my sweet twins didn’t make sense. It’s just the way I was raised. Pa told me how disappointed he was in the twins being girls. He let me know I’d disappointed him by having girls. ‘Now that wife of yours can’t have any more babies so there’ll be no sons,’ he told me the night they were born. Then he died suddenly a few weeks after that.”
She’d never asked about his father’s death so this was new information for her, but his driving need for a son was something she knew already. After being intimate, he always cuddled her while commanding, “Give me a son.” Tonight, she realized the reason for his obsession. He was still trying to please his dead father.
His words drew her ba
ck out of her thoughts. “The letter came from one of my half-sisters in Germany. They aren’t dead. In fact, she wrote to tell my father that his wife died last month.” A sound suspiciously like a sob escaped him. “Imagine, my parents never married. They fled Germany with as much money as Pa could put together and played at being a family here in America.”
“No,” she protested at his words, “you are a family. I don’t know why your father left his family, but you, your brothers, and your mother are a family.”
He snorted. “Ma told me why they left. Pa wanted sons and when she had me, he decided to leave Germany so he could raise me. His wife’s family would never have let him claim me as a son. His need for sons ruined a family.”
“It created a family, even if it wasn’t done in the right way. Did your mother tell you how she came to have you? It makes no sense that the devout woman I’ve come to know would take up with a married man.” She waited to see if he would distance himself when prodded for information. Myra dared ask because she sensed a change in him after the letter and his talk with Jennie.
The silence lasted only a short moment before he spoke, “I will never be like my father. Ma was a fourteen-year-old orphan who came to work for his family. After the birth of his fifth daughter, the wife refused him her bed. I don’t think he gave Ma a choice when he began the affair.”
Myra felt sick at the thought of a young girl being forced into that situation. Poor Jennie! “Was he at least good to your mother?” she asked, hoping to learn something happy about their time together.
He gave a rueful chuckle at her question. “She worked like a slave, but he never beat her. I don’t remember any kind words or touches, but he might have given her those when we boys weren’t around. He was a stern man.”
After a pause, he made a vow to her. “I won’t be like my father. I love my girls, even the twins. I am growing to love you daily. My females are precious and I don’t care if we have ten more daughters.”
A Farmer For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 4) Page 6