A Tender Hope

by Amanda Cabot

  “What’s wrong?” Aimee turned her attention to her friend and away from the bacon she was frying. Though she’d hoped that Thea’s normally even disposition would have been restored, that did not appear to be the case.

  Thea had been in her room when Aimee had returned home last night and had refused to emerge, claiming she was coming down with something and didn’t want Stuart to catch it. Though Aimee had pretended to believe her, the thickened voice told her Thea had been crying. On another day, Aimee might have tried to coax her out of the room and encourage her to talk about whatever was bothering her, but her own mood had been so dismal that she hadn’t even tried. Now, though, she could not ignore the shadows under Thea’s eyes nor the pain reflecting from them.

  “It’s nothing I want to talk about.” Thea busied herself pulling plates from the cupboard.

  “Are you certain? You’re the one who encouraged me to talk when I had problems, and you were right. It helped.”

  Thea shook her head. “Some things are too awful to put into words.” She glanced at the clock and pursed her lips. “Jackson’s back, but I don’t know whether he’s going to come for Stuart today. Would you take him to Widow Jenkins? I promised Mrs. Coulter I’d call on her first thing this morning before she and her husband leave for Austin.”

  “Naturellement. Of course.” Aimee corrected herself, reflecting that it was a measure of how upset she was that the French word had slipped out. Between her own problems and Thea’s, today was not beginning well.

  Aimee. Aimee—not Thea—was Nate’s princess, the girl of his dreams, the woman he wanted to marry. It had been more than twelve hours since Nate had stared at him as if he had bats in his belfry when he’d talked about Thea, and Jackson was still grinning. He’d been so shocked at first that his jaw had dropped, but then he’d grinned at his own foolishness.

  Thinking back, he realized that Nate had never mentioned his lady love’s name; it was Jackson who had assumed that Thea was the one who’d caught the goat farmer’s eye. A valid assumption, at least from Jackson’s perspective. While Aimee was a nice enough girl, she couldn’t compare to Thea. No one could. But Nate didn’t see that, and Jackson couldn’t be happier.

  He still hadn’t caught the Gang. He still didn’t know who Stuart’s mother was and why she’d been killed. He still didn’t have a firm plan for the future. But right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that Nate had no intention of courting Thea. And that made Jackson a happy man.

  “God was looking out for me when he sent you to Cimarron Creek.”

  Aimee looked up at Warner, not certain what had precipitated his comment. He’d seemed more cheerful than normal today, a fact that Aimee attributed to his having spent time with Patience yesterday. Though he hadn’t mentioned Patience’s name, he’d worn a satisfied smile all day. It could have been because they’d had a busy morning, but Aimee doubted that.

  Now that the store was empty, Warner was leaning on the counter, looking at her, his expression as enigmatic as his comment. While she believed that God had led her to Cimarron Creek, she hadn’t realized that Warner felt the same way.

  “You mean because people like the way I arrange the cabinets?” Aimee had stayed after closing hours on three different nights to remove all the bottles from the glass-fronted cabinets and replace them in what she believed to be a more pleasing order. Since then, sales of those items had increased dramatically. As she’d expected, women were drawn to the colorful displays and rarely left the store without at least one bottle, whether or not they truly needed its contents.

  Warner chuckled as he shrugged. “That’s part of it. You have an artistic eye, and I don’t.”

  “But you know how to blend medicines. I’m a failure with your mortar and pestle.” Aimee’s one attempt at grinding a tablet into powder had ended with dust everywhere but where it was supposed to be.

  “Exactly. We complement each other. God knew that I needed a helper, and he sent the perfect one.”

  As a blush warmed her cheeks, Aimee made a deep curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir. Your praise overwhelms me.” It was also exactly what she needed. Though there was nothing romantic between her and Warner, she knew that being able to work with him was another of God’s gifts.

  She enjoyed the work. More than that, she enjoyed being with Warner. He was right: they did complement each other. More times than she could count, they would finish each other’s sentences, then laugh at the fact that they were so in tune. Other times, they’d disagree, neither willing to back down until, almost as if they’d choreographed the moment, they’d both begin to apologize at the same time.

  Aimee couldn’t explain it. All she knew was that her feelings for Warner were unlike those she had for anyone else, and they made her time at the apothecary more enjoyable than she’d believed possible.

  She was still basking in the glow of Warner’s praise when Lydia entered the shop, her expression radiating excitement.

  “The mail just arrived,” Lydia said, brandishing an envelope. “It’s a letter from Catherine.” She paused and laid a hand on her abdomen, as if to assure the baby that she was done rushing. “I couldn’t wait to share it with you.”

  Warner tipped his head toward the back room, which boasted two chairs. “You’d better sit down. I don’t want you delivering that baby here.” Winking at Aimee, he added, “Take your time. If a customer comes in, I can handle it. Lydia needs to rest.”

  Aimee shared Warner’s concern. The mother-to-be did look flushed. When they were both seated, Lydia handed Aimee the envelope with familiar French stamps. “You haven’t opened it,” Aimee said, surprise tingeing her words.

  “I thought we could read it together. My guess is that it’s about you, because Catherine should have received my letter telling her you’re here. Why don’t you open it? This baby is having a kicking match right now, and that’s making it hard for me to talk.”

  Though she knew the letter would probably contain good news, Aimee felt apprehensive as she slit the envelope and withdrew a single sheet of paper. Would her mother have included a message for her? What would she say? There was only one way to know.

  Dear Lydia,

  France is beautiful, what I’ve seen of it, that is. When we disembarked at Le Havre, both Austin and I could see how anxious Grace was, so we changed our plans. Instead of spending two weeks in Paris, we traveled directly to Maillochauds. We wanted Grace to be reunited with her daughter as quickly as possible.

  Lydia frowned. “They didn’t get my letter.”

  “It appears not.” That meant there would be no note from Grace. Aimee bit back her disappointment and returned to Catherine’s missive.

  I wish you could have seen how excited Grace was as we approached the small town where the Jarres lived. The only way I can describe it is to say she was glowing with happiness. Unfortunately, her happiness was short-lived. We soon learned that Mr. and Mrs. Jarre had died and that Aimee had left. No one knew where she’d gone.

  Oh, Lydia, my heart broke for Grace. Her hopes were crushed, and so was her spirit.

  Aimee closed her eyes, her heart aching as she pictured her mother’s distress. She knew she would never forget how devastated she had been when she’d arrived in Ladreville only to learn that no one knew where Grace was. The unexpected and unwelcome news had left her on the verge of collapse. It had been hours later when the Russells had ventured the possibility that someone in Cimarron Creek might have the answers Aimee sought, renewing her hope.

  Grace had no leads, and that was Aimee’s fault. When she’d left France, she hadn’t considered that someone might search for her, and so she hadn’t told anyone that she was heading for America. If only she had! If only she’d mentioned Ladreville, Texas. But she hadn’t, and nothing was gained by regretting what she hadn’t done.

  Resolutely, she continued reading.

  Austin and I decided the best thing was to return to Cimarron Creek immediately. Grace protested, of course, remind
ing me of how long I’d dreamt of walking along the banks of the Seine, but I knew I wouldn’t enjoy Paris when she was suffering. I’m not sure how long it will take us to find passage on a ship, but we’re heading back to Le Havre. We’ll be home as soon as we can.

  Tears glistened in Lydia’s eyes. “If only they’d gone to Paris, Grace would have been spared this agony.”

  Aimee couldn’t let her friend shoulder the blame. “You did the best you could. The fault is mine. I should have told someone what I planned to do, but I didn’t.”

  Lydia’s expression said she wasn’t relinquishing her regrets. “I could have sent a letter to Maillochauds as well as Paris.”

  Laying her hand on Lydia’s, Aimee waited until Lydia met her gaze before she said, “But we didn’t do those things, and we can’t change that.”

  Lydia nodded. “The only good thing I can say is that they’ll be back sooner than we expected. Before you know it, you’ll meet your mother.”

  And then her questions would be answered.

  20

  Thea smoothed the fingers of her gloves, then checked her reflection in the small mirror by the front door of the Coulters’ house. Though her insides were still knotted from the revelation that nothing she believed about Daniel, including his name, was true, that was no reason to be less than well-groomed when she stepped outside. Somehow, she’d managed to retain her composure when she met her new patient, but now she wondered whether her legs would support her. Of course they would. She had a job to do, and she would do it.

  She bade Mr. and Mrs. Coulter good-bye, keeping her head high as she walked home. As she’d paced the floor last night, she’d realized there was no reason to believe Jackson blamed her for what Daniel might have done. He’d been nothing but kind, trying to protect her from the unpleasant news. She was the one who’d overreacted, believing that he would view her as tainted by her husband’s crimes. Deep in her heart, she knew Jackson was a fair man, and though his brother’s death weighed heavily on him, he would not condemn her for it.

  It was time they talked. Once she’d dropped off her bag, Thea would find him and tell him what she’d learned about Stuart’s mother. Then perhaps she’d be able to relax.

  She was heading south on Cedar toward Warner’s house when she saw Jackson approaching. His gait was steady, and there was nothing in his demeanor to suggest she’d been mistaken about his reaction to Daniel’s crimes.

  “How are you?” Jackson asked once he was within speaking distance. The furrow between his eyes underscored the concern in his voice.

  “All right, I guess.” Thea wouldn’t tell him that she’d slept only a few minutes at a time last night, her rest disturbed by dreams of Daniel wearing a mask, shooting a boy that she knew instinctively was Jackson’s brother, then grinning as if killing someone was nothing more than a lark. “I feel as if my world was turned upside down.”

  Jackson nodded as he crooked his arm and placed her hand on it. “That’s understandable. I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you.”

  “You were simply doing your job.” Thea had told herself that dozens of times during the sleepless hours, reminding herself that it would have been even more painful to have learned the truth from someone else.

  He shook his head. “Hurting innocent people is never part of my job, but you needed to know what I’d learned.”

  Thea’s heart lightened at his use of the word innocent, because it confirmed her belief that Jackson did not blame her. The second half of his sentence gave her the introduction she’d sought. “And you need to know what I learned while you were gone.”

  Jackson lifted one eyebrow as if puzzled, then nodded. “That’s right. You said you had something to tell me last night, but you never had the chance.” He gave her a long, appraising look. “Do you need to sit down while you tell me, or should we walk?”

  Though it had been only a few minutes since Thea had felt as if her legs had turned to rubber, being with Jackson had revived her. “Let’s walk. I heard there’s a path along the creek, but I haven’t explored it yet.”

  They walked slowly up Cedar, leaving her bag at the house, then continued past the end of the street until they reached the creek. Calling it a path, Thea soon realized, was an exaggeration, but there was a faintly visible track that paralleled the water.

  “Will you be all right here?” Jackson glanced at her shoes.

  Thea nodded. “They’re sturdier than you might think.” And since there’d been no recent rain, she did not have to contend with mud.

  They walked for a few minutes, each step taking them farther from the town and, though Thea hadn’t expected it, from her worries. “It’s so peaceful here,” she said, gesturing toward the gently flowing creek. “It’s hard to believe there are murderers and thieves in the world when I’m in a place like this.”

  Jackson nodded as if he understood the respite she’d found. “Everyone needs a special place, a sanctuary. Did you have one in Ladreville?”

  Thea smiled, remembering. “It was a small garden. Sarah used to call it her secret garden. I’d go there whenever I was sad, and it never failed to make me feel better. What about you?” The way Jackson had spoken of a sanctuary made her believe he’d had one of his own.

  “We have an old oak tree on the ranch. I used to climb it and pretend I was in a different world.”

  Thea gazed at the water, watching as a small fish tried to fight the current before it decided to change direction and be carried downstream. Was that the right approach, letting stronger forces determine your path? Thea wasn’t certain. What she knew, though, was that it was time to tell Jackson what she’d learned.

  “I wonder if Helen had a special place.”

  “Helen?”

  “Stuart’s mother. That’s what I needed to tell you. I learned who she was and why she was traveling to Cimarron Creek.” As quickly as she could, Thea recounted what Ethel Harris had told her.

  Jackson listened intently, his face darkening. “And she lived near Leakey.”

  “That’s what Mrs. Harris said.”

  “That explains why Travis’s telegrams and my inquiries didn’t reveal anything. Neither of us thought she would have come from that direction. I found both Helen and Stuart east of here. Leakey’s southwest.”

  “Then why were Helen and Stuart on the other road?”

  When a bird squawked its displeasure at having humans disturb its habitat, Jackson took a breath and exhaled slowly. “There’s only one possible explanation: their abductors found them before they reached Cimarron Creek and the Harris ranch and took them somewhere else to question Helen.”

  The way Jackson said “question” told Thea that Helen had endured more than questioning. “Where were they taken?”

  Jackson shook his head. “I’m not sure it matters. I doubt we’d find any answers there, but there may be some in Leakey. I’ll go there next week to see what I can learn.”

  Thea had expected him to do that. What she hadn’t expected was that he’d delay his departure. Perhaps he was tired of traveling. Perhaps he knew that a few days would make no difference. Whatever the reason, she was glad that Jackson would be in Cimarron Creek a bit longer.

  She still needed to tell him about Ethel Harris’s apparent reluctance to have anything to do with Stuart, but that could wait. Now that Jackson knew Stuart’s mother’s identity, he would tell Travis, and they’d initiate the necessary legalities. In the meantime, Stuart would stay with her.

  Thea looked up at Jackson, knowing he would do what was best for the boy. Perhaps, despite what Ethel Harris had said, someone in Leakey knew of another family member. If not . . . Thea didn’t want to complete the sentence.

  “Could you make a sketch of Helen’s house when you find it?” she asked.

  “Certainly, but why?”

  Though the thought had just popped into her mind, it felt right. “I think Stuart should have a connection to where he was born. He may never want to visit it, but he should kno
w what his first home looked like.”

  Jackson was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his question surprised her. “You’ve grown to love him, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.” Thea wouldn’t lie, but she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “That’s part of the problem.”

  21

  I’m not in the mood for a square dance.” Aimee’s frown matched her words, not the lace collar and cuffs she’d added to her frock to make it more festive. “I keep thinking about Grace and how awful it must have been for her when she learned I’d left Maillochauds and she had no idea where I was.”

  Thea continued braiding Aimee’s hair. Though her friend had protested attending tonight’s event, she had agreed to let Thea try a new hairstyle, one that would be better suited for dancing than her usual style or the one she’d worn to church on Sunday. “She’ll be here in a few weeks—maybe even by the end of the month.”

  The prospect did not appear to cheer Aimee. “I’m worried about her. It’s odd, Thea. When I first learned that she had given me up for adoption, I was angry. I almost hated her. Now all I feel is sorrow that she’s hit another . . .” She paused, searching for the correct word. “What is it you call them? Dead somethings.”

  “Dead ends.” Thea coiled the braid into a knot at the base of Aimee’s head, then stepped back to admire the effect. “I’m glad your anger has faded.” She wished hers would. She had believed she had gotten beyond her anger over the perfumed shirts, and she had. Even her visits to Belinda Allen no longer triggered unhappy thoughts. But the revelation that so many things she had believed about Daniel were false had set off an avalanche of destructive emotions.

  How could he have robbed and killed people? How could he have lied to her by claiming that he was going to San Antonio to buy supplies when he was probably holding up a stagecoach? And why hadn’t he told her his real name?

  The questions whirled through her, eroding the hard-won peace she’d begun to find in Cimarron Creek. The truth was, Thea wasn’t certain whether she was angrier at Daniel for the deception or at herself for being so gullible. All she knew was that anger churned her stomach and woke her in the middle of the night.