A Tender Hope

by Amanda Cabot

  Jackson shrugged as if he’d expected that reaction. “You’ve got her wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?” he asked the infant in his arms. “You know that if you cry, she’ll hold you. I’m giving you fair notice that I’m not so easy to manipulate.”

  “Aren’t you?” Thea chuckled at the sight of the big Ranger with the tiny boy. She shouldn’t be acting like a schoolgirl, becoming giddy over Jackson’s return, but while she knew it was foolish to trust another man so quickly, she could not stop herself from smiling. “It appears to me that you’re holding him too.”

  The smile that accompanied Jackson’s response was almost a smirk. “The difference is, if I lay him down, he’ll stay quiet. Want me to prove it?”

  “All right. I’ll call your bluff.” This was a lighter side of Jackson than she’d seen, and Thea liked it, just as she liked the fact that when he smiled, the right side of his mouth rose a fraction of an inch higher than the left. Somehow, the minor imperfection made him seem less formidable and reminded her that underneath the Ranger’s slouch hat was an ordinary man.

  “It’s not a bluff. Where’s his bed?”

  Thea led the way inside the house and pointed to the buggy she’d positioned in the parlor. “We let him sleep there during the day.” It was easier than climbing the stairs multiple times to place him in the makeshift cradle, particularly when she and Aimee were occupied with cooking or cleaning.

  “That’s a good idea. This way you can move him when you need to.” Jackson touched the baby’s nose. “It’s time for you to sleep.” He laid the child on his stomach, and to Thea’s amazement, Stuart remained quiet.

  “How did you do that?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. Not for anything would she waken the now-sleeping child. “I tried the same thing, and he only screamed louder.”

  Jackson feigned innocence. “I’ve probably had more experience than you.”

  “Just how did you gain that experience? I thought you’d never been married.” Lydia had mentioned Jackson’s single status, and while Thea wasn’t certain where her friend had learned that, knowing that Jackson was unmarried had made Thea’s pulse race.

  “I may not have a wife, but I had a younger brother.” His eyes darkened, and a shadow crossed his face as he spoke. “I was fifteen when Micah was born. By then, my older brothers were married and had families of their own, so it was only Ma, Pa, and me on the ranch. Ma didn’t talk about it, but I guess Micah was a surprise.”

  Thea nodded. She’d had several patients with later-in-life babies, and while the mothers had been happy about the prospect of a new child, they’d also worried about whether they still had enough energy to handle a toddler’s demands. That was, however, something they would not have shared with a fifteen-year-old boy.

  “Ma had a hard time delivering him, so I wound up caring for him when he was first born.” Jackson took a step toward the buggy, his expression relaxing when he saw that Stuart was still asleep. “That’s one of the reasons I’m here, to see if you’d like me to help you take care of him for the next few weeks. Travis said no one in town has volunteered to adopt him.”

  Thea wasn’t ready to admit how torn she was by that fact. As much as she loved Stuart and believed that God wanted them to be together, she couldn’t dismiss the worry that as a single parent she would be unable to give him everything he needed. It was one thing to care for an infant, another to guide a young man into adulthood.

  “I know you and Travis have done your best, but I keep hoping Stuart’s family will come forward. My husband’s experience showed me that children are best raised by family.” What Aimee had shared about her adoptive parents had only confirmed that belief.

  Jackson shook his head, as if disagreeing. “Family or people who love them.” He amended her statement. “Whoever ran the orphanage probably loved children—I can’t imagine doing it otherwise—but they wouldn’t have had a lot of time to spend with any single child.”

  Which was one reason Thea was determined Stuart would never suffer that fate. “Stuart deserves better than that. I’ll keep him and love him if you and Travis can’t find his family, but what he really needs is both a mother and a father.”

  “Then you’ll let me help.” Jackson made it a statement, not a question. “I can be his temporary father.”

  While it was a tempting thought for many reasons, Thea could foresee problems. “How do you propose to do that? I can’t afford to shock anyone.” And having Jackson spending time in this house would shock at least some of the townspeople.

  While Thea had more freedom as a widow than she would have if she were still single, she did not want to test Cimarron Creek’s sense of propriety. She started moving toward the front door, knowing Jackson would follow. They’d already been in here unchaperoned long enough to start tongues wagging.

  “When do you normally call on your patients?”

  “Mornings.” Travis had told her that she could arrange office hours whenever it suited her, and she had chosen mornings.

  Jackson nodded. “Fine. I’ll plan to take care of Stuart during the morning. I’ll pick him up each day around eight or nine—whichever is better for you—and will bring him back at noon.”

  “But what about your work?” A Ranger’s life was a demanding one and one that would not accommodate an infant’s needs.

  “I’m not making a lot of progress on my current case, so my captain agreed that I could stay here for the next month.”

  Thea suspected there was more to the story than he was telling. While she wouldn’t pry, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to learn everything she could about him. She gestured toward the swing and chairs that filled one corner of the front porch. “Would you like some coffee or perhaps some buttermilk? We could sit here without scandalizing anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t turn down a glass of buttermilk.” Another of those engaging crooked smiles accompanied his words.

  Two minutes later, they were both seated on the swing, Jackson’s foot moving it slowly as they sipped glasses of buttermilk.

  “Tell me about your brother,” Thea urged. The way his expression had changed when he’d spoken of Micah—grim at first, then softening as he’d talked about caring for him—made her want to know more. “Does he want to be a Ranger like you?”

  Jackson’s face darkened, and for a moment, Thea thought he was going to refuse to speak. “He did,” he said at last, the firm line of his jaw telling her he was attempting to compose himself. “He’s the one who gave me my badge.” Jackson withdrew the tin star that he’d shown Thea the day they’d met, holding it almost reverently. “Micah made this.”

  Thea gave the five-pointed star that reminded her of the one on the state flag a closer look. Though the metal was not costly, the workmanship was finer than she would have expected from a boy.

  “Your brother’s quite an artist.”

  Jackson nodded. “Ma always said he was the most talented of her sons. Quincy and Jefferson whittled, and I sketched, but our efforts were amateur compared to Micah.”

  As Jackson slid the star back into his pocket, Thea posed one of the questions it had raised. “I don’t understand why a civilian was making a Ranger’s badge.”

  “That’s simple. The state doesn’t believe we need anything more than the papers I showed you, so they don’t issue badges. If a Ranger wants one, he buys one or makes his own. Some men’s badges are shaped like shields. Others have stars made from Mexican coins. Still others are tin like mine.”

  “I can’t imagine a silver star would be any more beautiful than yours. It was obviously made with love.”

  Jackson’s lips thinned. “Lots of youthful idealism too. I tried to tell Micah that being a Ranger wasn’t as exciting as he imagined, that a lot of time is spent waiting, not to mention sleeping on the ground and eating hardtack, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “That sounds typical for a boy his age. My nephews went through a stage where they were convinced they knew
more than anyone, especially their parents.”

  “Micah should have listened.” Jackson’s voice resonated with anger, confirming Thea’s suspicion that the story Jackson was obviously reluctant to tell was not a happy one.

  “What happened?”

  He took a long swallow of the cool liquid before he spoke again. “Leander—he’s my partner—and I were chasing a gang of thieves. There were four of them, so we called them the Gang of Four.” Jackson turned slightly to face Thea. “Have you heard of them?”

  She shook her head. While Ladreville wasn’t insulated from news, she had paid little attention to anything outside the town.

  “They have two specialties,” Jackson explained. “Robbing wealthy travelers of their money and jewels, and capturing Army payrolls. Like most outlaws, they wear bandannas over their faces and keep their hats pulled low so no one can identify them. Once the heists are over, they disappear.”

  “It sounds like a story from a dime novel.” Thea’s nephews had entertained her with tales from the popular books.

  Jackson shook his head. “I wish it were nothing more than a story. The Gang is more elusive than any of the other desperados we’d dealt with, but Leander and I were sure we’d catch them eventually.”

  “Rangers always do, don’t they?”

  A wry smile lightened the seriousness of Jackson’s expression. “That’s the Ranger legend. A lot of things have changed since ’74—now we’re peace officers instead of citizen soldiers—but our goal hasn’t changed. We’re determined to catch outlaws and ensure that justice is served.”

  Jackson took a shallow breath, the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw telling Thea he’d reached the critical part of his story.

  “When Leander and I heard about a major shipment of gold, we knew it would be irresistible to the Gang. It seemed almost too good to be true. The stagecoach was passing not far from my parents’ home, which meant that I knew the area better than any other place we’d tried to catch them.”

  Jackson looked away for a second, then continued his story. “There’s a spot where the road narrows that would be ideal for them to ambush the coach. What I was betting on was that they wouldn’t know about the back way into the narrows. I was so sure of success that I didn’t see any harm in visiting my family, since we’d be so close.” Jackson looked almost sheepish as he added, “A home-cooked meal holds a lot of appeal.”

  “But something went wrong.” Thea cringed inwardly as she replayed their conversation. How had she missed the fact that he’d used the past tense when referring to his brother? While she’d thought that talking about Micah would bring Jackson pleasure, she’d actually caused pain.

  Jackson gave a short nod before placing his glass on the small table that stood between the two chairs. “You could say so. If I could redo one day of my life, it would be that one. I should have realized that Micah was at an impulsive age, but I never thought he’d decide to play Ranger.”

  The lump that had settled in Thea’s stomach grew as she watched the play of emotions across Jackson’s face. Anger, grief, and something else warred for dominance.

  “The stagecoach ambush took place right where and when Leander and I thought it would. We were set to capture our quarry, but then Micah rode in. He must have thought he could help us, but instead . . .” Jackson shook his head, his sorrow evident in the darkening of his eyes.

  “The confusion he caused was just what the Gang needed.” Jackson closed his eyes for a second, perhaps trying to hide his emotions. “Micah’s shotgun was no match for the Gang’s revolvers. They shot him and Leander, then escaped. The only good thing that happened that night was that one of the outlaws’ bandannas slipped enough that I saw his face.”

  Jackson paused again, his visible anguish leaving no doubt that the worst part of the story was yet to come. “I’ll never know whether I did the right thing, but I didn’t pursue the Gang. Instead, I stayed with Micah. When I saw where he was hit, I knew he had no hope, but I couldn’t let him die alone.”

  Thea didn’t bother brushing aside the tears that streamed down her cheeks. That wouldn’t stop them from flowing. “You did the right thing, Jackson. You’ll have another chance to capture the Gang, but you won’t have another chance to be with your brother.”

  “My captain doesn’t agree.”

  “He’s wrong,” Thea said as firmly as she could with tears still falling. “No one should have to die alone.”

  Though Jackson’s eyes softened, he pursed his lips, making her wonder if he too was struggling with tears. When he spoke, his question startled her.

  “How did your husband die?”

  “Someone shot him. A man Daniel had done business with in San Antonio found his body by the side of the road.” Those were the facts. It shouldn’t hurt to recite them, and yet it did. “Either it was a lucky shot or the killer was a skilled marksman, because the bullet hit Daniel’s heart.” Almost without her volition, Thea’s hand covered her own heart. “Clay assured me that he would have died instantly.”

  Her brother-in-law, who was also the town’s physician, had examined Daniel’s body when it was brought to Ladreville and had been able to give her that small measure of comfort.

  “Micah didn’t last much longer. I didn’t think he’d be able to speak at all, but with his dying words, he gave me a clue to the Gang.”

  Jackson’s eyes darkened, and Thea knew he was remembering his beloved brother.

  “What did he say?”

  “He told me one of the Gang was a woman. Leander and I’d been close to capturing them half a dozen times, and we never noticed that, but Micah did.”

  Desperate to do something that would provide at least some measure of comfort, Thea said, “It sounds as if he would have been a good Ranger. I imagine he would have been happy that he was able to help you.”

  “He would have.”

  As if to signal that the discussion was over, Jackson reached for his glass and swallowed the last of the buttermilk. “Do you have any idea who would have killed your husband and why?”

  His voice was steady, telling Thea he was once again Ranger Guthrie, ferreting out information about a crime. While Daniel’s death wasn’t connected to the Gang any more than Stuart’s mother’s was, Jackson was a lawman, and as such he wanted to resolve a murder.

  Thea shook her head. “As far as I know, everyone liked Daniel. It appeared to have been a robbery, because when they found him, he had no money on him, and his watch was missing.”

  Her voice broke as she remembered how distraught she’d been when she’d gone through Daniel’s belongings and discovered the watch was gone. Even now, months later, the loss brought tears to her eyes. “Isn’t it silly? My husband was killed, and I’m upset that someone stole his watch.”

  Jackson did not appear to think she was foolish. His green eyes radiated warmth and compassion, and the way he said “It’s often the little things that trigger grief” made Thea wonder which memories of his brother were the most poignant. “Was the watch valuable?”

  Thea shook her head. That was part of what bothered her. While the watch had been taken, whoever had killed Daniel had not touched the wagonload of supplies he’d bought in San Antonio. Those supplies were worth far more than Daniel’s timepiece.

  “It wasn’t especially costly, but it was my Christmas gift to him. All it was was a simple gold watch with Daniel’s initials on the cover and my portrait inside.”

  She wouldn’t tell Jackson why she’d included the portrait, that she had wanted Daniel to have a reminder of her when he was with the other woman. She had hoped it would keep him from straying. Perhaps it had—Thea would never know the truth about that—but nothing had kept him alive.

  11

  Do you have any . . .” Aimee opened the paper Thea had given her and read, “Mrs. Davis’s salve? Thea says it’s good for diaper rash.” Stuart had begun to develop a mild case of the common ailment, which was one of the two reasons Aimee was standin
g at the counter of the pharmacy. She’d finished the rest of her shopping and would return to the house that had quickly become her home once she had the salve and the answer to her other question. The first was easy, the second far more difficult. Fortunately, the store was now empty, so no one would overhear.

  Unaware of her internal turmoil, Warner Gray shook his head as he pulled a tube from one of the cabinets behind him. “I don’t carry that brand, but the ladies tell me this one works well.” He handed it to her, encouraging her to read the glowing endorsements printed on the label. If the fancy print was to be believed, the ointment cured everything from thinning hair to sunburned skin.

  “I have to trust you about that.” Aimee tried not to stare at the pharmacist. That would only make the next part of her mission more difficult, and yet she couldn’t help wondering why he seemed so familiar to her. There was something about the way Warner held his head and the way his nose wrinkled when he spoke that sparked memories. It was almost as if Aimee had known him for a long time, but that made no sense. She’d met him for the first time less than a week ago.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  There he went again, tipping his head to the side ever so slightly in a gesture that reminded her of . . . Aimee’s brain refused to complete the sentence. This was silly, silly, silly, and she needed to stop. She’d come here for two reasons, and she’d accomplished only one. It was time to ask the important question.

  “Perhaps. You know I’m staying with Thea.”

  Warner’s smile faded, replaced by concern. “Is something wrong with the house?” He leaned forward ever so slightly, as if by bridging part of the distance between them he could resolve whatever was troubling Aimee.

  “No, not at all.” The last thing she wanted was to worry the man who’d so generously offered his brother’s house to Thea. “It’s a wonderful house.” She wouldn’t tell him that it felt more like home than the one where she’d spent most of her life. “I appreciate your letting us use the things we found in the attic. That’s been a godsend for Stuart.”