“Is he with my mother now?”
Emma didn’t know the right way to answer that question. She couldn’t speak of Donnigan’s salvation, or where he would spend eternity. And she didn’t want to say anything that would cause the girl further distress.
“I’d like to think they’re together, and they’re happy.” Which was the truth. She would like to think that. “What is your favorite memory of your parents?”
Skye brushed away tears with the back of her hand. “When I was little, he was different. Before my mother died, he would sing to us. I’d sit on Ma’s lap, and Pa would sing silly songs and we’d laugh.”
“That sounds like a happy memory.”
Someone stepped up beside them. Riley. “Did he sing the bug song?”
Skye giggled, even through her tears. “Yes.”
“He used to sing that when we were kids. He had the best bug voices.”
Emma smiled. She had no idea what the bug song was, but Riley’s voice, his interest in Skye, felt like a warm blanket around her heart.
The church was filling up. “Are you ready to sit down?” Emma asked Skye.
She nodded.
Emma wasn’t sure if she should take Skye to the second pew—the pew normally occupied by families at a funeral—or if they should sit further back. She didn’t want to cause a scene.
But Riley’s hand on her back led her, directed her to the family pew. She tried to step aside and let Skye in. Emma would sit with her father. But Riley leaned close. “You’re part of this family, as was your mother. At least in my mind, you are. Skye’s too, and she needs you right now. Please sit with us.”
Emma nodded. What would people think?
Who cares what they think?
She scooted in and took a seat, leaving a respectable gap between her and Allison. She didn’t even look at Colt. Skye leaned against her other side, with Riley to Skye’s left.
Organ music signaled the start of the service.
The two cedar boxes at the front of the church changed everything. Riley wasn’t sure how to go on, how to exist in a world without his father in it...but an unexplainable peace enveloped him like a warm west wind.
The peace that surpasses understanding.
Riley tried to listen to the preacher’s words. As far as he could tell, the man did a nice job of offering both comfort and wisdom in a difficult time. He didn’t read Colt’s speech, however. Riley couldn’t help but wonder how Colt would react.
At the end of the service, Reverend Jones led them down the center aisle and outside the church so they could be first in the long line of wagons that would follow them to the cemetery. Riley could tell Colt was about to pop like a spring too tightly wound. His fists were clenched, his face was white, and his eyes held a hint of insanity, fueled by anger and pride. Riley was quite familiar with that look. It was as if Dad had taken residence in Colt’s skin.
When he saw Colt speed up his steps toward Reverend Jones, Riley sped up too.
“I told you, preacher, to read the speech I wrote or you’d be out of a job. You’d better start packin’ your bags.” Colt’s voice was low and eerily calm. That wasn’t a good sign at all.
“Look, Mr. Stratton,” Reverend Jones spoke in a soothing tone that Riley knew Colt would consider patronizing. “I—”
“Colt, we’ll deal with this later. Let’s just get through today, all right?” Riley positioned himself between the reverend and his brother.
Thankfully, Colt didn’t say anything else. But Riley knew the fuse was getting closer to the cannonball. Sooner or later, it would go off.
At the cemetery, Riley couldn’t even focus on his own grief. All he could think of was keeping Colt’s pending explosion at bay, and keeping the shrapnel to a minimum. He was vaguely aware of Skye and Emma.
When the caskets were dropped into the ground and covered over, when the people dispersed and headed back to their house, with cakes and pies and fried chicken, when there was no one left standing at the fresh heaps of sorrow but the preacher, Colt, Allison and Davis, and Riley, the fuse ran out.
Colt lunged at Reverend Jones, knocking him to the ground, laying a punch on the man like they were in a barroom brawl instead of a holy place.
Allison screamed and Davis cried.
Riley pulled Colt off the startled man. “Get hold of yourself! What are you thinking?” He held his brother back, putting his own body between Colt and the preacher.
Colt turned to Riley, his eyes wild and scared and full of rage that comes with a broken heart. “What am I thinking? What are you thinking, Riley? I don’t even know you anymore. Sneaking around, doing business with the enemy?”
“Charlie Monroe was never our enemy. He’s just a farmer who got some land Dad wanted. He didn’t steal it. It just happened. Dad just couldn’t let things go.”
“Look, little brother. Make up your mind. Are you a Stratton, or not? Because we Strattons protect our own. Dead or alive, we need to protect Dad’s reputation. Donnigan’s too. It wouldn’t have hurt anybody for that preacher to say a few kind words, to lift them up in people’s memories.”
“He said plenty of kind things, Colt. He just didn’t lie.”
“All I wanted him to do was state that Dad and Donnigan didn’t cause the fire. Shut up people’s rumors and gossip. Was that too much to ask? I’m telling you. Choose, Riley. Choose to be a Stratton, or walk away from the ranch and all we own and don’t look back. Dad left me in charge in his will. You know I’ll make a place for you, but you’ve gotta stand with me. Take some pride in the family name. If you can’t do that, then I don’t consider you my brother.”
That last sentence hung between them like a guillotine blade, waiting to fall.
Movement at the far corner of the cemetery caught his eye. It was Emma. Skye’s head was buried in Emma’s waist, and Emma’s arms were around the child. He’d thought they left already.
He looked back at Colt. Could he walk away from his brother...his only living relative? His roommate and partner in mischief? His best friend for his entire childhood? Could he walk away, knowing Dad would have condemned him for it?
In that moment, he knew the answer, though it seemed to rip out half his heart. The answer was yes.
Yes he could. He didn’t want to. But if he had to make a choice between the Stratton legacy or God’s, he’d choose God’s.
Never in her life had Emma wanted to shield another person from pain as much as she wanted to shield Riley from the scene playing out before her.
In that moment, she saw clearly the reasons for her mother’s hesitation, her discouragement, when she suspected Emma’s feelings for Riley. She was protecting Emma with a mother’s love, the way Emma now wanted to protect Skye.
But somewhere along the way, Emma had lost her heart to this man, and right now, all she could think about was how in the world she could make life better for him. How she could soothe his hurts and show him a different kind of love than he’d known before.
But she couldn’t. For what he needed, more than a woman’s love, was God’s love.
Please, God. Let him find peace. Let him find love. I’ll be all right if he doesn’t choose me. Just let him choose You.
Riley backed away from his brother. He held out a hand to the reverend and helped him stand up. Then he dusted off his hands, turned, and walked straight to where Emma stood with Skye, near her own mother’s grave, only a few months old.
“Are you ladies ready to go?” he asked, his voice quivering and tight.
Emma nodded. Skye nodded.
He led them to where Sugar was hitched to the wagon and helped them climb aboard, then retrieved Medina. “Where are your father and Lyndel?”
“Back at our house. Pa couldn’t make it to the cemetery. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Do you mind if we go there? I really don’t feel like going to my house right now.”
“Certainly. I mean, no. I don’t mind at all.” She didn’t plan to take Skye to the
Stratton’s home anyway. What a mess.
They rode away from the little graveyard, so many thoughts swirling through Emma’s mind. She turned one last time and looked at Colt, Allison, and little Davis. At least Colt had his wife and child to stand with him. Riley had no one.
Well, he had her, but she wasn’t sure that counted. She wasn’t his wife.
At home, neither Pa nor Lyndel questioned Riley’s presence. Just accepted him as if he belonged there, had every right to be there. As if there were no other logical place for him to go after the events of the last few days. Just as they’d accepted Skye. Which was so beautifully odd.
Yet she felt, somehow, that their peculiar little group made up the most perfect of families. At least, as perfect as any human family could be. They loved each other in all their wild, broken mess...just as God loved each of them, and accepted them into His family without question.
Riley didn’t say much the rest of the day. He ate a little bit. Sat on the porch and drank coffee, which Emma kept filled. When the sun dipped low in the sky, he stood as if he’d go, but Pa stopped him.
“Stay the night, son.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Sure you could,” said Lyndel. “You can have my bed. I like to camp out in front of the fireplace sometimes, anyway.”
Emma could have kissed her little brother right then and there. Would have, too, if the act wouldn’t disgust him to no end.
Riley looked like he’d protest. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and he looked so, so weary. After a moment, he gave one simple nod, and stayed where he was in the porch rocker.
Satisfied, Pa bid them good night.
Lyndel went inside to find some extra blankets and pillows, and Skye followed him like a puppy with a new toy.
Emma turned too, wanting to give Riley plenty of space to process all that had happened in the last few days.
“I’d like to rebuild the hotel.” His voice stopped her midstride.
She turned back to face him. “I’m sure Pa would be happy to talk to you about that.”
“I...I plan to adopt Skye. Donnigan asked me to take care of her, just before he died.”
Emma wasn’t sure how she felt about that. But she knew he would love the girl. And as much as Emma wanted to raise Skye herself, she knew the law would side with a blood relative. Not that she’d fight him on it. She nodded an ascent.
“She’ll need a mother.”
What was he saying?
“I don’t know how I’ll support a family. I’m not sure what the future holds for me right now. But I was wondering if—”
“You’re exhausted, Riley. Why don’t you get some rest before trying to figure out the rest of your life?” Emma couldn’t listen to more. Was he going to propose? Simply because he wanted a mother for Skye? Could she live with a man, just to provide a stable home for a child?
Maybe. She did love Riley.
But she wanted him to love her back. Did he want a marriage of convenience? The thought burned a crack straight through her spirit.
Could she live with him, knowing he didn’t really love her?
She wasn’t sure.
“I’ll make sure Lyndel’s room is ready for you.” She left him—and the shattered fragments of her heart—on the porch. Long before the hurricane of tears passed and she fell asleep, she made her decision. If he asked her to marry him, her answer would be no.
Riley woke well before dawn. He’d tossed and tumbled in Lyndel’s too-small bed. He shouldn’t have stayed, but where else would he go? He didn’t want to be alone, and yet, he was alone. He had no mother or father. The only home he’d ever known was occupied by a brother who’d made it clear Riley was no longer welcome there.
But it was his home, and today he would go and get his things. Some of them, anyway. The important things. He’d slept in his clothes, so he rose and straightened the bed, grabbed his boots, and crept down the hall. A low lantern burned on a small desk. He grabbed a pencil and some paper and scratched a note, then left it on the table.
Soon he and Medina were on the way home...that word didn’t sound right any more. On their way to the house in which he’d grown up. But it was the place that held most of his memories and a few cherished items. He’d gather those things and try to find a small place to rent in town, big enough for him and Skye. Could he rent something on credit? He still had enough in his savings to get through a few weeks. He hoped.
He’d really bungled things last night. What must Emma think of him? He could see the discomfort, the disappointment in her eyes when he’d started to ask. She didn’t want to say yes. But she didn’t want to say no to a man who’d just buried two of his family members.
Great. He’d managed to take a bad situation and make it worse. He had a gift.
But there was that voice again, that urging in his spirit. Try again.
The house was dark and quiet. Riley crept into his office to get the papers he needed. He had no desire to take anything of Colt’s, but he did have another paycheck coming. Despite his work on the hotel and spa, Riley had managed to keep up with all his business duties at the ranch. Bills were paid. Supplies were ordered.
The ranch, Colt could have. But if Riley was going to start a new life somewhere, he needed funds. Most of the inheritance Mom left him had gone up in flames. There was a little left in that account, but was it enough?
In his bedroom, he packed a suitcase with most of his clothes, his Bible, and a few toiletries. Besides his personal effects, he couldn’t think of anything else he needed.
When he turned to leave, Allison stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing, Riley?” Her voice was a combination of weariness and suspicion.
“Don’t worry. I’m not taking anything I don’t have a right to. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
Her expression softened. “You’ll take care of the child?”
“I plan to.”
The ticking of the old grandfather clock provided a heavy background for their uneasy silence. Just when he thought Allison would leave him to his business, she said, “Come with me.”
He was too tired to question her. She led him into the room that had belonged to his parents. It felt cavernous in its emptiness, though it was still exactly the way his father had left it. Riley could even smell tobacco, and with the scent came a vision of Dad smoking his pipe on the front porch. Colt and Donnigan playing marbles at his feet. Mom sewing yet another patch on Riley’s play clothes. Riley watching Dad, wanting to be tall and strong like him. He pushed back a fresh wave of tears and cleared his throat.
Allison lit the lantern, and the dim light revealed her red eyes, her splotchy cheeks. “Take what you want. You should have something of your parents’.”
He didn’t want anything of his parents’. He wanted them. But they were gone.
He looked around the room. Dad’s pipe sat on the bedside table. He’d had others, so surely Colt wouldn’t mind if Riley took this one. He slipped it into his pocket and turned back to the door.
“Wait. Perhaps you’d like something of your mother’s, as well.” Allison stood at the dresser, at Ma’s jewelry box.
He walked up beside her, looked in the box, and retrieved a dainty oval necklace with a carved marble pendant. It had a lady’s face on it. A cameo, he thought it was called. He remembered his mother wearing that. Skye might like to have it one day. He was about to close the lid when his mother’s ring caught his eye. It had once belonged to his grandmother. Small diamonds surrounded a sapphire center, and the white gold band was carved with tiny hearts.
Ask her again.
The dainty ring looked out of place in his mammoth hand. He placed it on his pinky finger, and it didn’t even fit to the first joint. In the mirror, he caught Allison looking at him, and their eyes locked for a moment.
She nodded a single, acquiescent nod. “Take it. You should have it.” She pulled a thick envelope from her pocket. “And take this, too.”
&
nbsp; Riley opened the envelope to find money. A lot of it, though he didn’t take time to count it. “Where did you—?”
“I didn’t know your mother well. But after Colt and I married, your father shared with me that she’d always had her own allowance, to do with as she pleased. As you can see, she saved quite a bit. John told me I could have that money, since I was now the lady of the house. But I never felt right about spending it. I figured I’d know when, or how—” Her voice cracked. “I feel certain that under the circumstances, she’d want you to have it.” Then she left him.
He stood there, looking at the spot she’d just occupied, not able to move or even breathe. After a million tick-ticks of the clock, he looked again at the money. Why, there was enough for...for…
There was enough.
Not for everything, but enough for a start. Enough for collateral. Enough to secure a loan.
He found it odd that, as he rode away from that place, he didn’t feel as much sad as he felt free. He had chosen his heritage. It was a heritage that reached back for centuries, and would reach forward to his children and grandchildren and beyond.
It felt good.
He needed to make one more stop before he shut the door on this life. The cabin had a few more things Skye might want someday. But it also held something very important for her future. It didn’t take long to pack the remainder of the child’s clothes, the doll bed, and a few trinkets. But the most important thing he tucked into his bag was a thick envelope he’d discovered in the desk drawer, which quite possibly held the key to Skye’s freedom and independence. To her future.
Emma was up and dressed early, and she fixed breakfast as quietly as possible. Lyndel was asleep on the floor by the hearth, and she assumed Riley still slept soundly, as well. But when the smell of steamy bacon, fried eggs, and biscuits brought Skye and Pa from their rooms, Lyndel went to check on their guest.
Riley was gone.
He probably regretted his near proposal to her last night, and now he didn’t want to face her. Which was fine with Emma. She really didn’t want to face him, either. If she could, she’d stay in her room all day and give her tears free rein. Instead, she moved woodenly through her tasks and tried not to think about more than the next minute, the next chore.
Legacy of Honor Page 22
