The Heart's Charge

by Karen Witemeyer

“Here,” Tildy said, “why don’t we sit on the sofa? I’ll show you how to hold her.”

  It took only a minute to execute the transfer, and once Fern had her babe in hand, it became clear that to her, nothing else existed. As she unwrapped the blanket to take inventory of every finger and toe, Tildy left her to her exploration and joined Eliza a few steps away near the hearth.

  “Miss Georgia told me you been lookin’ into those kiddy-snatchers the young’uns been talkin’ about,” Tildy said in a low voice. “Those men staying with you find anything yet?”

  Eliza grimaced. “Not enough. We know one’s a white man who rides a horse sporting a shallow cut on its haunches and a nicked rear hoof, and the other’s likely a Mexican who tends to dress all in black when he goes out at night.”

  “Sounds like Miguel Ortega,” Fern said.

  Eliza’s attention jerked to the sofa, shocked that Fern had heard a word they’d said. “Miguel Ortega?” She didn’t recognize the name.

  “Mm-hmm.” A flick of a glance was all the attention Fern spared them as she continued studying her dozing daughter. “He worked a couple summers for Wendell at the farm, though I can’t say I cared for him much. He had a coldness about him that made me uncomfortable. He sure did like black, though. Wore it nearly every day.”

  Eliza’s breath caught. Their first real lead, and from the most unexpected of sources. She approached Fern and lowered herself onto the sofa beside her. “Do you know where we might be able to find Mr. Ortega?”

  Fern shook her head. “No, he seemed the roving type. Moving from job to job.” She ran a finger over the dark hair at Sarah’s forehead, then suddenly looked up. “Wait. I think I remember Wendell saying something about Honey Creek.” She nodded to herself. “Yes. I was upset when he told me about it, because I worried we’d welcomed an outlaw into our barn. Wendell scolded me for jumping to conclusions. Said the man sought honest work and should be judged on his performance alone and not on the shady reputation of the place where he spent his winters. Does that help?”

  “Very much.” Eliza’s pulse vibrated through her veins with a humming energy that demanded they return to Harmony House as soon as possible. She needed to tell Jonah. Fern might have just handed them the clue that could break the snatcher case wide open.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Mark delivered Alice and Kate back to Harmony House before returning to Kingsland for his horse. Crazy how hard it was to walk away, even knowing he was coming right back. He didn’t want to let Kate out of his sight. The Army had trained him to shake off death’s close calls for himself, but not for those he cared about. He wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from that trauma. His hands still shook from the shock of seeing that train barreling down on her.

  Thankfully, he maintained enough dexterity to untangle Cooper’s lead from the saloon’s hitching post without much trouble. Mounting felt good. Almost like he was back in control. With a click of his tongue, he turned Coop and rode straight for home.

  The thought jarred him. When had he started thinking of Harmony House as home?

  Mark wagged his head in self-deprecation as he nudged Cooper into a canter. Probably the moment he discovered Kate inside. She was his home. He just needed to convince her that he was her home too.

  Once back at the foundling home, Mark unsaddled his horse, rubbed him down, then saw to Coop’s food and water. His own belly rumbled with hunger, but no cavalryman worth his salt would feed himself before tending his mount.

  He’d just exited the barn when movement near the road caught his eye. In a flash, he had his revolver out of its holster and ready to fire, but he lowered it when he recognized Bessie and Tessie at the head of the approaching wagon.

  Jonah had mentioned that Eliza had run an errand. What he hadn’t mentioned was with whom. Spying Fern on the wagon seat made Mark’s chest tighten in concern. He’d been praying for her, but he hadn’t actually expected to see her again. At least she wasn’t raving like a lunatic and threatening to shoot him this time.

  Once his weapon was safely holstered, Mark lifted a hand in greeting.

  “Whoa, girls,” Eliza called to the team. “Whoa.”

  The ponies didn’t seem to pay her much mind. Just kept plodding forward. Mark moved in front of Bessie and held up a hand. The old girl stopped and bobbed her head against his palm as if to say howdy. It made him grin.

  And it made Eliza sigh. Loudly, and with great exasperation. But only for a moment.

  “Did you find Alice?” Eliza asked.

  Mark ran his hand along Bessie’s neck, then patted her side as he made his way back to the wagon. “Yes. She’s safe. We had a bit of a scare”—that was the understatement of the decade—“but all’s well now. Kate’s seeing to her in the house.”

  “Thank the Lord.” Eliza’s gaze briefly tipped toward heaven before settling back on him. “I wanted to check in here before taking Mrs. Dawson home.”

  “Would it be possible,” Fern murmured, “for me to have a word with Mr. Wallace before we go?” She clasped the wagon seat with both hands before turning to face him. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Mark nodded. “Of course. In fact, why don’t I see you home, and we can talk on the way?”

  Eliza wasted no time relinquishing the reins. In less than a minute, she had disembarked and he had climbed aboard. Taking the lines in hand, he clicked to the ponies and offered them a few warm words of apology for taking them back out when they’d thought themselves finished for the night.

  “There’s a good girl, Tessie,” he praised as he looped them around and aimed them toward the road. “That’s right, Bessie, steady on.”

  “Do you talk to everyone like that, or just horses and women in the throes of labor?” A tiny smile played at the corner of Fern’s mouth.

  Mark chuckled, the tightness in his chest easing. If she could tease, she must be doing better. “Mostly just horses.”

  Her smile flattened into a serious line. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “Ah, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do.” Her adamancy took him aback. “If you hadn’t happened by . . .” Emotion clogged her voice. She steadied herself by grabbing the edge of the wagon bench and inhaling a long, slow breath. “My daughter would not be alive today if it weren’t for you. She wouldn’t be healthy and beautiful and absolutely perfect.”

  Mark braced his boot against the footboard. “So you’ve seen her.”

  She nodded as she raised a hand to wipe at her eyes. “Wendell’s parents have offered the two of us a home with them.”

  “That’s good.” He smiled despite the misgivings running through his head. She was the babe’s mother. And it sounded like she’d have help. Just because he’d entertained a few fuzzy notions about him and Kate adopting little Sarah didn’t mean he had any right to stand between a mother and her child. Besides, his future with Kate was fuzzy enough on its own.

  “I think it will be. Yancy and Myrna are good people. Wendell would want them to be involved in their granddaughter’s life.”

  Mark tried to read her face, but there was so much uncertainty etched in her features that he had trouble seeing anything else. “What about you? Do you plan to be involved in your daughter’s life?”

  She timidly met his gaze before dropping her chin to stare at her lap. “I don’t deserve to be.” Slowly her posture straightened and her head lifted. When she looked his way, he spotted a hint of hope shining through the guilt. “But when I held her today, something shifted inside me. I swore I could feel Wendell looking over my shoulder, whispering in my ear. Telling me how proud he was to see his girls together. How much he loved us. How much he believed in us.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. “God sent you at just the right time, Mr. Wallace. You saved my daughter. Saved me. I didn’t think I could live without Wendell. I thought he was the only person in the world who loved me. But I was wrong.”

  Thank you for opening her eyes, Father
. No one loves better than you do.

  Fern wiped the tear from her face and lifted her chin. “I’m ready to build a new family,” she said. “To tell my daughter about her amazing daddy and be the mother Wendell always believed I could be.”

  “I’m glad, Fern.” And he was. Life shone in her eyes, something that had been missing the last time he’d been with her.

  Talk of babies and families drifted away as the buildings of Kingsland cropped up. Fern directed him to a ladies’ boardinghouse, and Mark steered the wagon to the side of the road and set the brake. As he turned to climb down, however, Fern stopped him with a hand to his arm. He resumed his seat and waited for her to speak.

  “I want to name her after you,” she blurted. “I know you named her Sarah after your mother, but I had a horrible aunt named Sarah, so that name just won’t do, even though I’m sure your mother is a lovely woman—”

  “Whoa, now.” Mark grinned and held up a hand to stop the runaway rambling. “She’s your daughter. She should have a name that means something special to you. My preferences are inconsequential.”

  A relieved smile touched her lips. “Thank you. I was worried you’d be offended.”

  “Not in the slightest.” Though it was probably a good thing he hadn’t had time to write to his mother about her namesake. As much as she fussed about him settling down and giving her grandchildren, she would be distraught to learn she’d lost her connection to a pseudo-grandchild. Then again, if the news came sandwiched between his rediscovery of Kate and a wedding invitation, all would likely be forgiven.

  “I do still want to name her after you, though,” Fern said, drawing his mind away from Kate.

  “As much of an honor as that would be, ma’am, no pretty little girl deserves to be saddled with a name like Wallace. Sounds too . . . sturdy. Like something that holds up a roof on a house.”

  Fern smiled. “Only the first part. The last half of the name is rather feminine.”

  He frowned. “Ace? Like the playing card? Makes me think of saloons and gambling. What’s feminine about that?”

  Her smile broadened. “Take off the first three letters and leave the rest.”

  Wal-lace. Lace. Of course.

  His face must have cleared, for she nodded and said, “I want to name her Lacy. If that’s all right with you.”

  Warmth spread through his chest, and he had to clear his throat before he could answer. “That sounds mighty fine, ma’am. Mighty fine.”

  Fern smiled in return, a touch of pink coloring her cheeks.

  She was going to be all right, Mark thought, as he climbed down and moved around to assist her. He offered his arm and escorted her to the door of the boardinghouse.

  Once there, she turned to face him a final time. “Thank you, again. For everything.”

  Mark relinquished her arm and tipped his hat to her as he stepped back. “God bless you, Mrs. Dawson. And Lacy too.”

  “He already has, Mr. Wallace,” she said as she twisted the door buzzer. “He already has.”

  By the time Mark made it back to the foundling home, unhitched the wagon, and took care of the team, his stomach was growling something fierce. Yet supper wasn’t the only thing stirring his hunger. He needed to get Kate alone to talk things out. Between taking care of Alice and tending to Fern, there hadn’t been time for him to follow up on his marriage proposal. To discover what had caused her to hesitate. Whatever it was, he’d find a way to fix it. God had brought them back together for a reason, and Mark wasn’t about to squander this second chance.

  He stomped the dirt off his boots before entering the kitchen through the back door. Kate walked into the kitchen from the dining room at the same time. Had she been listening for his return? The thought made his chest expand. He tugged his hat from his head and hung it on a hook by the back door.

  “I kept a plate warm for you,” she said as she moved to the stove and pulled a plate from the warming oven above the range.

  “Thanks.” He rounded the table to meet her by the drawer where she was extracting flatware with her free hand. “Kate, I want you to know—”

  Her blue eyes crashed into his. “Not now,” she murmured in a low tone. “Jonah and the others are waiting for you. He seems a little . . . perturbed.”

  Jonah, perturbed? That didn’t bode well. And why did Kate look guilty? Only one way to find out.

  Taking the plate from her, he tilted his head toward the dining room. “Lead the way.”

  A spot at the foot of the table sat open. Kate placed his utensils down, then moved to the sideboard to pour him a glass of water. Mark slid into the vacant chair and met Jonah’s eyes across the length of table. Alice sat to Mark’s left with Abner a couple places up. Dirty plates on both sides evidenced where the other children had eaten before heading upstairs to play. Eliza sat next to Jonah near the head of the table, leaving Kate to slip into the chair at Mark’s right.

  “So, what’s up?” Mark asked as he stabbed a piece of roast with his fork and lifted it to his mouth.

  “Besides you and Miss Palmer hanging off the side of a railroad bridge?” Jonah raised an accusing brow at him. As if Mark were still some wet-behind-the-ears recruit prone to unnecessarily reckless stunts.

  So, she’d told him. Either that or Alice had. He couldn’t blame them. It was too good a story not to tell. Still, Jonah didn’t have to get all bent out of shape simply because Mark had gotten within spitting distance of the pearly gates.

  Mark chewed his mouthful of beef and prepped a bite of mashed potato. “Yeah,” he said after a quick swallow. “Besides that.”

  Being the youngest Horseman, Mark was used to the others acting like overprotective big brothers. Shoot, the captain had hovered over him like a mother hen for weeks when he’d taken that bullet in the shoulder back in Purgatory Springs. Jonah had always treated him like an equal, though. Which meant the train story must’ve really rattled him to have him shooting Mark chiding looks across the table.

  “Alice just told me you promised to take her out tomorrow to listen for one of the snatcher’s voices. You really think it a good idea to take a child into the kind of places where a man of that caliber is likely to be found?”

  All right. So maybe the chiding look had nothing to do with the bridge.

  “Better with me than on her own, don’t you think?” Mark kept his voice affable, but that didn’t fool Jonah. His eyes glared his displeasure as hotly as before.

  Apparently his tone didn’t fool Kate either, for she placed a warning hand on his forearm. “Perhaps we can discuss this later?” She glanced meaningfully at the two youngsters still sitting at the table.

  Unfortunately, the kids caught the look and understood exactly what it meant. Alice jumped from her seat and jabbed a finger in Mark’s direction. “You promised! Wart’s been gone for days. We gotta find him. I gotta find him, and if you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself.”

  Mark was sorely tempted to toss Jonah an I-told-you-so look, but Alice needed his attention more than he needed satisfaction. So he set his fork down and leveled a stare at the girl. “I gave you my word, Alice, and I won’t go back on it.”

  “You won’t have to.” This came from Eliza, the last person Mark expected to enter the fray. “And you won’t have to take Alice out searching either.”

  Mark swiveled to give the teacher his full attention. She knew something. Something so big, she looked ready to burst from it.

  “I know who took Wart.”

  Jonah’s head snapped toward her. “And you’re just telling us this now?”

  She glared at him with such vexation that Mark would have chuckled had he not been so keen to hear what she had to say.

  “Because I just found out.”

  “When? During your trip to Tildy’s house?” Jonah tried the raised brow on Eliza, but she was having none of it.

  “It was at Tildy’s house, if you must know.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Eliza,” Kate exclaimed. “Who is
it?”

  Eliza turned away from Jonah to face the table at large. “Miguel Ortega. Fern recognized his description. She said he’d worked a couple of summers for her husband, and he wore black nearly every day.”

  Miguel Ortega. The name clicked in Mark’s mind. “I heard that name at the saloon too. Along with a handful of others. Men willing to set scruples aside to take on a job if the money was good enough.”

  “Fern wasn’t too fond of him. Said he made her uncomfortable.” Eliza twisted back to face Jonah. “She also said he hailed from Honey Creek.”

  Jonah met Mark’s gaze, his face as soft as a rock. “Looks like we’re goin’ huntin’ tomorrow.”

  Mark nodded. “Indeed.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Katherine took her time with the dishes, extending the chore to its maximum duration. Mark and Jonah remained in the dining room talking strategy, and Eliza had all the children except Abner upstairs. Abner had gone out to the front porch to keep watch while the men plotted and schemed. Things had been quiet, so no one actually expected him to spot any trouble, but he’d been uneasy after dinner and had volunteered for the duty.

  Katherine didn’t blame him for wanting some time alone to think. The dishwater had turned her hands to prunes with the tortoise-like pace she’d set, but it offered an excuse to ponder things without the distraction of the children. Her excuse held as much water as a big-eye colander, but it sufficed. Or it would for a few more minutes. She was down to drying her last two pots.

  The men’s murmuring was too low for proper eavesdropping, but that was probably for the best. Hearing their plan would likely increase her anxiety, not relieve it. Still, she’d wanted to stay close. To Mark.

  He’d asked her to marry him. Again. Oh, how she wanted to say yes. Her heart ached with the desire. But she’d made a vow to God and the children of Harmony House. She couldn’t just run away with the man she loved and leave those commitments behind.

  What do I do, Lord? You brought him back to me, but for what purpose? To test my resolve or to restore our lost love?