by Nerys Leigh
Her son stepped from her embrace, grinning. “Mama, this is Mr. Parsons and that’s Miss Ravensworth. They’re my new friends. They want to help us.”
Henry’s mother didn’t appear reassured by her son’s introduction. “New friends?”
Well aware of how suspicious the whole situation must appear, Millie stepped forward and extended her hand with a smile. “I know this must all be confusing, but I promise that we’re only here to help.”
Henry’s mother stared at her hand for a few seconds as if it might bite her. Then she tentatively took it. “Mrs. Sullivan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Sullivan.”
Shaking Millie’s hand seemed to reassure her somewhat and she offered her own to George. “Thank you, Mr. Parsons, for what you did. You’ll forgive me if I’m a little suspicious of your motives, but for now, I’m grateful.”
“I understand that, ma’am,” he said. “I’d be suspicious too.”
The door behind Mrs. Sullivan opened a little and Mary’s frightened face appeared in the gap. “Mama? Is he gone?” Then she saw Millie and her face lit up. She threw open the door, rushed out and flung her short arms around Millie’s waist, grinning up at her. “You came.”
Laughing, Millie hugged her back one handed. “Of course I came. I said I would.”
George took the basket from her so she could add the other hand to Mary’s hug.
The little girl twisted her head round to look at her mother. “See? I told you a princess gave me the handkerchief.”
Millie stroked a wayward curl from her cheek. “I’m not a princess.”
Mary grinned up at her. “I know, but you look like one.”
Until that moment, Millie would never have considered being called a princess by a little girl could melt her heart. She would have been entirely wrong about that.
Watching her daughter show such affection for a woman she’d never met, Mrs. Sullivan appeared unsure as to how she should feel. “I guess the two of you should come in.”
The Sullivans’ home consisted of a single, small room with a bed in one corner, a table and four chairs, a cupboard, a chest of drawers that doubled as a washstand, and the smallest stove Millie had ever seen. And that was all. It was a ludicrously small space for three people, even with two of them being children, but it was neat and clean and an attempt had been made to make it feel homey, with brightly colored curtains at the small window and a rag rug on the floor by the bed.
Millie took the basket from George and set it on the table. “We brought you a few things I thought you could make use of.”
She opened the lid and began unpacking the bread, tea, sugar, flour, and sundry other items of food she had taken from the kitchen that afternoon. The final thing out of the basket was an entire molasses cake that Mrs. Conover, the cook, had baked that morning for their supper. When Millie explained what it was for, she’d withdrawn her objections to its pilfering. Although she had muttered that Millie’s father would “throw a fit” when he found out there’d be no cake with supper that evening. Millie knew it was an exaggeration, but she thanked her profusely anyway.
Mrs. Sullivan watched the food emerging from the basket with increasing astonishment. “I can’t afford this.”
“No need for payment, ma’am,” George said. “It’s a gift.”
She lowered her eyes and swallowed, then looked at her children. “Henry, would you take your sister down to Mrs. Bartlett? She said if you paid her a visit before supper that she would have some extra sugar cookies for you.”
Mary’s face fell. “But I want to stay with Miss Ravensworth.”
Millie touched the top of her head. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Mary looked up at her. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
Henry cast a nervous glance back at George and his mother as he followed his sister from the room.
The moment the door closed behind them, Mrs. Sullivan wiped at her eyes, her expression hardening. “I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you and what do you want? If you mean my children harm, I will fight you to my dying breath.”
“Oh no,” George said quickly, “it’s nothing like that, ma’am. I met Henry and Mary yesterday at the station, when I arrived on the train.”
Mrs. Sullivan frowned in confusion. “At the station? What were they doing at the station? Their school isn’t anywhere near there.”
He looked to Millie for help and she gave him a small shrug. It wasn’t going to be easy to explain without revealing what the two children were up to.
Mrs. Sullivan watched the silent exchange. “What time was this? Are you saying they weren’t in school?”
“Um, I reckon they weren’t.”
The revelation seemed to take all the fight out of her. Shoulders slumping, she lowered into one of the chairs at the table. “I’d take them myself, but I have to start work too early. Henry told me they were going every day.”
Millie and George took two of the other chairs at the table.
“I’m sure they didn’t mean to deceive you,” Millie said. “They seem like good children.”
Mrs. Sullivan stared at the tabletop. “They are, but with things like they are, it’s hard for them. What were they even doing there?”
“Trying to make some money,” George said. “Henry offered to carry my bag and show me around.”
Mrs. Sullivan’s eyes shimmered with moisture and it was a few seconds before she spoke. “We were getting by on the two jobs I had, but then I lost the one at the restaurant and I don’t make enough from the sewing to pay the rent and buy food and they need clothing and…”
She stopped as her voice cracked, pressing one hand over her mouth.
Her own eyes burning, Millie moved to her side and placed her hand on Mrs. Sullivan’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault. You’re doing the best that you can. I can tell that Henry and Mary love you very much.”
“They’re good kids. If my husband hadn’t upped and left us…” She shook her head, frowning. “It’s been four years. Mary doesn’t remember him now, but it was a year before she stopped asking when her daddy was coming home. Henry never asked after the first week. He’s still angry. Truth is, so am I.”
“You have a right to be,” George said. “Any man who leaves his family like that is no man at all.”
“I don’t disagree with you there.” She looked between the two of them. “Do you have children?”
Millie glanced at him, her stomach wobbling at the idea. “Oh, we’re not… I mean, we’re just…”
Mrs. Sullivan smiled a little. “Courting?”
Millie glanced at George. “I… I don’t know. Are we?”
A smile spread over his face. “Yup.”
It didn’t seem possible that such a small, everyday word could bring with it such happiness, but that simple acknowledgment sent her heart into flight. If she’d looked into a mirror, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see herself glowing.
“But I have a son from my first marriage,” he said. “He’s grown now. Has a child of his own on the way.”
“So you know what it’s like then,” Mrs. Sullivan said, “how you’d do anything for them. But I just couldn’t…” Her voice faded, but Millie knew she was referring to Mr. Brown’s suggestion in the hallway.
“And you shouldn’t have to,” she said firmly. “You won’t have to. We’ll work it out, you have my word.”
“But why? Why do you care?”
She no longer seemed suspicious, as she had before, but her confusion was plain to see. Millie couldn’t blame her for that.
“That verse in the Bible where it says it’s no use telling someone to be warm and well-fed and then doing nothing about it?” George said.
Mrs. Sullivan nodded.
“I’ve always been of a mind that if everyone did that, folks wouldn’t have to struggle. But just ’cause others don’t, doesn’t mean I won’t. I reckon God put a burden on my heart to help He
nry and Mary from the moment I met them, and I ain’t one to say no to the Almighty when He’s done so much for me.”
Mrs. Sullivan stared at him for a moment before leaning in close to Millie and whispering, “I think you should keep him.”
Millie couldn’t have agreed more.
Smiling, she whispered back, “I think you’re right.”
~ ~ ~
George had been uneasy about bringing Millie into such a rough neighborhood, but he couldn’t deny she’d been wonderful in setting Mrs. Sullivan at ease. He might have had a harder time if he’d been alone.
When Henry and Mary returned ten minutes after they’d left, George and Millie stayed for tea and slices of molasses cake while Mary showed Millie her precious, only doll, and Henry, after surreptitiously ascertaining that his mother still didn’t know about their pick-pocketing scheme, asked George question after question about living in the “wild west”.
As they left, George handed him the five dollars he’d promised.
Henry stared at it in shock. “But… but you paid the nine dollars for the rent. I thought…”
“I promised you five dollars, so I’m giving you five dollars,” George stated. “I don’t go back on my promises. It says in the Bible that a man who promises something but doesn’t give it is like a cloud without rain, and in a place like Israel where there isn’t much rain, that’s a bad thing.”
Henry looked like he might burst into tears and for a moment George thought the boy was going to hug him. But then he swallowed, drew himself up, and held out his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Parsons.”
George shook his hand firmly, man to man.
“We’ll come back in a few days, after we’ve worked everything out,” Millie said, handing Mrs. Sullivan a piece of paper. “And if you need anything in the meantime, this is my address.”
Mrs. Sullivan tucked the paper into her pocket. “I don’t know how to thank you both. You’re an answer to prayer.”
“No thanks necessary, ma’am,” George replied. “Just doing what any decent folks would do.”
The truth was, he didn’t know what they actually were going to do, but there was no way he could leave the small family where they were. For now, he could provide them with their basic needs, and he trusted God would work out the rest.
“So… we’re courting?” Millie said as they made their way back down the stairs.
“Reckon so, if you’re agreeable to the idea.” He kept his reply casual, but his heart was thumping in his chest in anticipation of her answer.
She glanced back at him, a smile tugging on her pink lips. “I am most agreeable to the idea.”
In general, with a few exceptions, he didn’t get overly excited about things anymore. Millie agreeing to a courtship, however, made him want to leap for joy in a most un-George-like manner.
Although all he said was, “Good.”
Chapter 6
At a knock on her bedroom door, Millie looked up from her book. “Come in.”
Her mother entered, dressed in her robe and slippers and with Mini on her heels as always. It was past ten and Millie would have expected her to be in bed, as she was.
Millie placed her bookmark between the pages and closed her book. “Is something wrong?”
Mini jumped onto the bed and flopped down beside her, closing her eyes in bliss when Millie scratched the back of her neck.
Her mother moved a chair up to the bed and sat. “I just thought you might like to talk.”
Millie knew her too well for that. “You mean, you want to talk.”
She smiled. “We can both talk.”
“About George, I presume?”
“If that’s what you’d like to talk about.”
“Oh, stop it.”
Her mother smiled, settling back into the chair. She looked young for her age, with still lustrous, albeit snowy white, hair and a trim figure. People thought Millie looked like her, but she’d always thought she favored her father, in looks, at least, although possibly in temperament too. She could be stubborn when she wanted to.
Millie rested back into the pillows propped behind her, gaze going to the fireplace across the room where the flames were dying. “He asked me if I was agreeable to courting today and I said yes. Do you think I did the right thing?”
So maybe she did want to talk.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” she said immediately, “more than anything. It’s just…”
“You’re afraid, after what happened with Franklin.” Her mother’s voice took on a steely edge, as it always did whenever she said his name. Neither of Millie’s parents had liked him.
She had learned the hard way that a person was never too old to listen to her mother and father.
“George isn’t like Franklin at all. He’d never do anything to hurt me.”
“After the talk we had before he knew I was your mother, I’m inclined to agree. He seems completely taken with you.”
Millie smiled at the warmth that spread through her at her mother’s words. It had been a long time since anyone had been taken with her. Much further back than her marriage.
“I’m completely taken with him too. I know he seems rough, but he’s so utterly genuine in everything he does. He doesn’t put on any airs or pretend to be anything other than what he is. And he cares deeply about people, especially his friends and his family. And he’s so wonderful with the horses. And he makes me laugh. He makes me feel like I’m someone special to him.” Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see her mother wiping at her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She gave her a watery smile. “Nothing. It’s just that I never saw you look like that when you spoke about Franklin, even at the beginning. It’s a long time since I’ve seen you truly in love.”
Millie’s heart gave a little jolt. “I’m not in love. Am I?”
“Believe me, you’re in love. A mother knows.”
She looked back at the fire. Her mother was right, she was in love. She’d been in love since Green Hill Creek. It was both thrilling and frightening at the same time.
“But if I marry George, I’ll have to move to California. He’d never be happy living here. I’d have to leave you and Daddy.”
Her mother’s smile turned wistful. “I will miss you desperately if you leave, you know that, but nothing is more important to me than your happiness. If you are truly sure that George will make you happy, then you must follow your heart. Don’t worry about your father and me. You have to live your own life.”
“Does Daddy feel the same way?”
“About your happiness? Undoubtedly. About George?” She winced a little. “He might need some time.”
Millie laughed softly. “He really doesn’t like him, does he?”
“He may have used words when talking about him that he didn’t even use about the worst criminals that came through his court.”
Chapter 7
The following day, after another breakfast spent being glared at by Judge Ravensworth, George decided he needed something to help restore his calm.
Millie disappeared upstairs with her mother to prepare for the ball the next day. What those preparations could possibly entail, he had little to no idea about, but he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to help in any way. So he excused himself and headed outside to the one place certain to bring him a sense of peace.
The Ravensworths’ stables were set out to the side of the house, the horse’s home no less impressive than the humans’. His own livery looked like a shack in comparison, but the smell of hay and horses as he walked in made George feel instantly at home.
He went to the nearest stall and held out his hand to the animal housed there, a large, dark gray gelding. It sniffed the proffered hand, perking its ears forward. When it seemed happy with George’s presence, he gently drifted his hand down the animal’s neck and rubbed its shoulder. The horse leaned eagerly into his touch. West or east, all horses liked a good rub.
“Gavel likes you.�
�
George looked round at the voice to see James Sutton walk in. “Seems like it.”
James walked up to him and placed the bucket he was carrying onto the floor. “Do you like horses?”
“I sure do. Back where I live, I own a livery.”
James’ eyes lit up. “You do? That must be lots of fun.” He stroked one hand down Gavel’s mane. “I love horses. Judge Ravensworth has been kind to me, letting me stay here and look after the horses after Mr. Courtney went to jail. I’m even allowed to go inside the house. Mr. Courtney never let me do that.”
“Judge Ravensworth sounds like a good man.” To those with no romantic interest in his daughter, at least.
James nodded enthusiastically. “He is. He’s really kind. Gavel’s his horse. He’s really kind to horses too.”
A judge naming his horse Gavel. George should have known.
“You’re James, aren’t you?”
James nodded.
“We haven’t properly met. I’m George.” He held out his hand and James shook it. “I know Amy, who used to work at Staveley House with you.”
“I liked Amy. She was nice to me. She sent me a letter after she left and Mr. Harris helped me read it. She said she was in California and she’d got married and had a job in a livery looking after horses.” He frowned a little as he thought, then realization blossomed on his face. “Does she work for you?”
“She sure does.”
He took George’s hand and shook it again, grinning. “Then I’m real pleased to meet you. I wanted to write her back, but I’m not so good at writing.”
“Well maybe you could tell me what you’d like to say and I can write it down for you and give it to her when I go home.”
“I’d be real grateful for that.” His gaze went past George to the door. “Morning, Judge Ravensworth.”
George looked round to see Millie’s father walk in, chastising himself for the way his gut clenched. He had every right to be there. He was Millie’s guest.
“Good morning, James,” the Judge said, the smile he gave him vanishing when his eyes moved to George. “Mr. Parsons.”
