The Scars of a Pure Heart

by Grace Clemens

  Finally, Corey laid out his bedroll and climbed inside, snoring within just a few minutes. Wilson offered to sit up awhile longer, but Blake said he’d keep watch. That seemed to suit the chatty fellow who added his own snores to the night’s sounds before long.

  Blake groaned to himself. He was in a bind; that much was clear. This pair didn’t seem violent, but they were quite certainly untrustworthy. Going to sleep seemed like a bad decision, yet Blake was trapped in here so long as the rain kept up. The promise of a long evening had now become a long night. There was nothing to do but pour himself another cup of coffee and try to stay awake.

  At some point, Blake dozed, but was awakened sharply by an especially loud snore whose origin he couldn’t discern. The fire had died down significantly and the sky was gray now. Blake was relieved when he realized that the rain had stopped.

  As quietly as he could manage, he crept out from under the overhang and tried to assess the world around him. Everything was soaked, but there wasn’t much evidence of flooding. He should be able to get on his way without any delay.

  It was impossible to saddle his horse entirely silently. Blake cringed each time the leather creaked or the harness jingled. And the horse’s hooves on the hard-packed floor sounded like blasts from a cannon to his ears. Still, he mounted up and headed out as quickly as he could manage. Throwing one last look over his shoulder as he reached the road, Blake was pretty sure that neither of the men had awoken.

  He spurred the horse on, eager to put as much distance between himself and his visitors as he could. After an hour, he relented, and his pace slowed just as the skies opened again and a cold, steady rain began. Blake had brought his oiled slicker and pulled it on quickly. Still, he was quite miserable as rain found its way into all the chinks in his defenses.

  As he rode along, Blake finally admitted to himself that adventuring wasn’t what he’d thought it would be.

  “I’m wet and freezing,” he ranted aloud. “I’m exhausted from lack of sleep and having to make my bed on hard ground. I hate eating the same dried food every day and having nothing but tepid water to drink. This endless riding is no fun. I hate mosquitoes and snakes and sand fleas.”

  He became thoughtful as he confessed, “The best part of this hunt was being with Macie. Everything was better when she was with me. The sunrise was prettier, the night sky more beautiful, and all the dull, in between stuff was more fun. Without her, adventuring is just plumb tiresome.”

  And then Blake felt as if a big rock dropped into his belly. He’d already told his wife that he wanted to annul their marriage. She was likely so angry with him that she’d never forgive him. Blake was disgusted with himself. All along, he’d insisted he wanted to go off adventuring. Now he realized he only liked it if Macie was there with him. But he’d ruined his chance to take her with him ever again in order to come on this wretched trek through the miserable Texas wilderness.

  “I climbed out on a limb and then sawed it off behind me,” Blake informed his horse angrily. “That’s what I’ve gone and done.”

  Chapter 27

  In all his imaginings, Blake couldn’t have dreamt the likes of the city of Austin, Texas. The few books he’d chosen to read as a boy had better prepared him for swashbuckling and life in the jungle. Here buildings blotted out the sky, some of them more than three stories high! Wide wooden sidewalks lined the shops on the streets. And in the distance, the elegant capitol building kept court, lording its grandeur over all the other buildings.

  Blake knew he must look like a country hick as he gaped at all the horses, buggies, and people. Face after face passed him by and Blake didn’t recognize a single one. How could there be this many strangers in the world?

  He marveled at the number of streets and houses lined up in neat grids. Elmswood was made up of one street with surrounding farms and ranches. Why, these streets even had signs with names on them to tell them apart!

  Granddad’s letter instructed him to find Stewart’s Public House on Congress Street. It had taken asking two different fellows before Blake got helpful directions. The first man had been downright unfriendly when he put forth his inquiry. Fortunately, the second man he stopped had been more affable.

  Now Blake rode along, trying to recall the landmarks he’d been given to help find the public house. He shook his head, marveling at the sheer size of this town and his own naiveté at believing he knew what the wider world was really like.

  Why, he could walk from one end of Elmswood to the other in no more than ten minutes’ time. It could take him half a day to cross Austin! And there were cities that were even bigger than this one. Granddad had once told him that San Francisco in California had twenty times more people than Austin. Blake couldn’t fathom such a thing.

  Stewart’s Public House was, admittedly, a tad disappointing. It wasn’t grand and bustling, nor was it dingy and mysterious. Rather, it was a narrow place tucked between two larger buildings. When Blake stepped inside, he found that the floor was swept clean and there was a modest array of small tables spread around the nondescript room.

  “What can I do you for?” chirped a middle-aged woman with familiar red hair. Her eyes narrowed before sweeping up and down over him from boots to hat. “Are you Blake?” she guessed.

  Surprised, Blake nodded mutely.

  The woman’s face wrinkled in a welcoming smile. “Come in! Come in! Uncle Ewell said you’d be coming, but I wasn’t so sure. I suppose that shows which of us was the clever one.”

  Blake was still stuck on the “Uncle Ewell” bit. Was this woman his kin? From the color of her hair, it was certainly a possibility. But he hadn’t known that they had any relatives in this part of the country. Why had no one told him anything?

  “Call me Tessie,” she instructed, finally close enough to throw an arm around him. “Did you bring anything with you wouldn’t want stolen?”

  He nodded again.

  “Go and fetch it right off. We’ve plenty of thieves who’ll help themselves.” Tessie shooed Blake outside.

  There were people here who’d take things from his saddlebags? Wouldn’t someone stop the thief from doing so? Of course, strangers wouldn’t know that this wasn’t someone else’s horse. The thief might just look like a regular fellow taking something from his own bag. Back in Elmswood, people knew which horse belonged with which family. They knew right off if someone was getting up to no good. For the first time, Blake saw that there were distinct advantages to living somewhere he was known by everyone in town.

  Blake brought in both his saddlebags and his rucksack, not willing to leave anything to chance.

  “I hope you’re planning on staying the night,” Tessie said as soon as he cleared the doorway. “I’ll set up Ewell’s old room for you. We were terribly saddened by his passing. He was a good man and a friend to our family.”

  The kind words meant a lot to Blake. “You heard about his passing?” he inquired politely.

  Tessie’s hands went to her hips as she spluttered, “Heard about it? He breathed his last in my very own parlor. We kept him here until your pa could come and take him home to lay to rest. I would have come to the service, but I have this place to keep running. Besides, your pa and I never did see eye to eye on things.”

  She led the way up a steep flight of stairs and Blake followed along, stunned. Pa had never once mentioned this branch of the family tree. Why didn’t Blake know that Ewell had been with kin when he died? He’d felt a bit guilty over the fact that his grandfather had been all alone when it happened. Though, he hadn’t given it much more thought than that.

  Tessie chattered as she climbed, “This winter just won’t feel the same without Uncle Ewell setting in the parlor. He’s passed the cold months with us ever since Aunt Eulalie died. He was a good help with the cooking and seeing to things. We have a few regulars who rent rooms here that I’m convinced only came back because of him.”

  It was all too much for Blake. Granddad had passed his winters here? He hadn�
��t been off traveling to far places after all! Blake tried to justify this. Ewell had been increasingly elderly and life on the road was uncomfortable, as Blake only knew too well. Still, it was a blow.

  Besides, it rankled to know that Granddad had been spending so much time away from the ranch. If he needed somewhere to rest his head for the winter, why hadn’t he come home?

  Tessie opened the door to a room at the end of the hallway before going inside and opening the curtains. “Uncle Ewell left something for you. Let me go and get it. Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be a minute.”

  Blake dropped his belongings on a low blanket chest and looked around the room. Dust motes floated in the window light, newly disturbed from their resting place. He sat on the edge of the bed, testing the mattress, whose springs creaked a cantankerous greeting.

  Then the sound of feet announced Tessie’s return. “Here it is. I never opened it; you can have my word on that. I’ll leave you alone with it for now. If you’d like a bath, there’s a men’s bathhouse on the next street over. Supper will be ready at six o’clock on the nose.”

  When the door closed behind her, Blake looked down at the wooden box. For the first time, he was reluctant to open it. This would likely be the last letter he ever got from his grandfather. It was also the first time that Blake didn’t admire the old man’s choices. Just who exactly was Tessie? Why hadn’t Ewell come home? And why had he let Blake believe that he was off all winter visiting exciting places when he was really holed up in Austin?

  He lifted the lid and found nothing but an envelope with his name on it. There was no small token, no grand final prize, nothing.

  Dear Blake,

  If I was a betting man, I’d wager that you have a heap of questions for me. If you’ve made it this far, you know that I didn’t go off on wild adventures like I let you believe. Sure, I went off for a few days at a time and saw some beautiful spots around Texas, but that’s about all. I spent winters in Austin with Tessie, summers in San Antonio with my old ranch foreman, and had half a dozen other kips throughout the area.

  This is sure to be such a disappointment to you and for that, I’m sorry. You see, I intended to spend my dying days traveling the world. Unfortunately, I took sick right off after I left home while I was stopped here in Austin visiting my niece, Tessie, and her husband, Phil. Tessie wouldn’t let me leave until my health was fully restored. That took several months, come to find out. By then, I’d lost some of my enthusiasm for sleeping on hard ground and in the rain.

  The following winter, I visited Tessie again and learned that Phil was in poor health. She was struggling to get by and I offered to help. Phil died in January and I couldn’t leave until Tessie was able to run the pub on her own again. I made the mistake of telling your father about it.

  He was terribly hurt that I would spend months helping my sister’s child rather than helping my own son. Len told me that I wasn’t welcome to stay for long at the ranch anymore. Tessie was glad for the company and the extra set of hands, so it was easy to make this place home.

  I found many beautiful spots, Blake. I’ve seen some glorious things. But I paid a heavy toll for it. Len was hurt when I left, not understanding my reasons for needing to get away, and then felt betrayed when I helped his cousin rather than return home. If I could go back and do things differently, I surely would.

  I can’t tell you how many lonely nights I spent under the most beautiful spread of stars you ever saw, thinking how I would gladly give up ever seeing such a sight in order to be home again. Your grandmama and I were very happy together. We had our share of disagreements and made plenty of painful mistakes, but I treasure the time I had with her and with your father and with you boys, too.

  You’ve probably thought I was awfully high-handed in ordering you to take a wife. But I know you all too well, Blake. You think that the freedom to go wherever you choose is worth sacrificing your chance at a family. I hope you’ve come to realize that your wife is a far greater treasure than you’ll ever find anywhere else. It’s worth sticking around and working out your differences in order to have a place to call home.

  You and Len haven’t always gotten along. And I know Troy, and even Harris, can be hard on you. But you’re a stubborn fellow, too, Blake. Your pa is afraid that you’ll abandon him like I did. Troy fears having to shoulder the burden of the ranch on his own. Harris is simply being loyal to his family. If you choose to stick to your plan and explore the world, the ranch will likely be fine without you. You’re a good worker, but you can be replaced if it comes to that.

  However, if you do this, you’ll set enmity between you and your family that might never be resolved. Not to mention that your wife will be left alone to raise your kids without their father much of the time.

  I can’t urge you strongly enough to lay down this daydream. Visit far-off places whenever you get the chance. Go and spend a night under the stars with your wife and young’uns. But make the people who love you best be the dream you cherish.

  I couldn’t let go of your grandmother’s memory and it threatened to hound me all my days until I found peace again in new purpose here at Stewart’s Pub. By then, it was too late, and I’d lost my son. Don’t make my mistakes, Blake. Hold your loved ones close and fight to keep them there.

  You’re a good, clever man and I have every hope that you’ll learn from my mistakes.

  Love,

  Bradfield

  Blake was tempted to crumple the paper in his hand. If he’d felt betrayed by Macie’s suggestion to delay his travels, it was nothing to the knife his own grandfather had stuck in his back. All his life, Blake had defended Ewell! He’d argued that the old man’s wanderings were well-deserved. He’d pretended to be his grandfather, fighting off wolves and pirates, discovering gold, rescuing damsels. And all along, Ewell had been traveling around Texas, working in public houses and visiting old friends.

  It was as if this letter had been a sledgehammer smashing through everything Blake had held onto so firmly. He’d even gone so far as to marry a complete stranger! Now he saw that he’d been tricked.

  Devastated, the young man dropped his head into his hands and wept for the illusion he’d thought was real.

  Chapter 28

  After reading the letter that crushed his little boy dreams, Blake slunk to the bath house. Within a half hour, he was soaking up to his neck in a tub of steaming water. He could practically feel the dust and sweat floating away as he reclined. Though his body relaxed, his brain refused to cooperate. It kept him from accepting another ewer of hot water when the attendant came by.

  Instead, he stood and toweled off, dressing in the one set of fresh clothes he still had with him. Then he moseyed back to the part of the bath house where he could rent a shaving kit. Now that he was clean, Blake found that the stubble on his face was intolerable. He paid the fellow slumped in the corner and helped himself to a shaving mug and razor which he sharpened on the strop before leaning over the mirror and getting to work.

  “I never feel properly clean until I’ve shaved,” began the man next to him.

  Blake lifted an eyebrow and assessed his neighbor. The fellow wore a parson’s suit and collar, though he’d removed his coat. He was a head shorter than Blake and was stocky. His hair had receded over the years and Blake guessed him to be in his mid 50s.

  “Well, it’ll be almost a week before I get another chance to shave like this,” Blake found himself saying. “I don’t want to return home looking like a mountain man.”

  The parson chuckled at that and the men exchanged names. He was Reverend Julius Knight and he was in charge of the local Lutheran church whose parsonage boasted no bathing facilities.

  “Is there a little lady at home waiting for you?” Reverend Knight inquired.

  It was a friendly, innocent sort of question meant to give the two newly-acquainted fellows a topic of conversation. But it just so happened to be a touchy one for the young Texan.

  Blake sighed heavily. “I h
ope she’s still waiting for me, though I would deserve it if she was gone.”