Hank sat in their pa’s armchair. He twisted his Stetson in his hands, staring down at the ground for a long time. Eventually, he looked up and gazed over their heads at the far wall of the cabin.
“I have some terrible news, kids. There’s no easy way to say this, but your pa was shot today by criminal he was trying to arrest. The doctor tried to save him, but the bullet had pierced his heart. There was nothing he could do.”
***
Some images from that evening played over and over in Wade’s mind. One was giant tears rolling down Grace’s face. She clung to Wade, sobbing, wordlessly begging him to take her pain away. But Wade couldn’t provide her with the comfort she needed—not in that moment and not in the days and weeks that followed.
All the anger he’d felt prior to joining the Shaw family returned, along with the desire to run. The house that had grown comfortable and familiar felt small and foreign once again. It was Clyde who had made Wade’s life something worth living, and it was Clyde who had made him feel like he deserved to be part of a family. The knowledge that he had died before learning the truth about what had transpired with the stolen money compounded Wade’s grief.
Clyde had never formally adopted the children who weren’t his by blood, and he hadn’t written a will, so all his possessions were legally bequeathed to Sadie, who turned sixteen the day after his death. Wade was secretly relieved to be free from all legal ties to the property. Sadie was better suited to care for the cabin and the children, anyway. Within days of Clyde’s death, while Wade fell apart, Sadie cowboyed up and returned to her no-nonsense routine of cooking, cleaning, and organizing, ensuring that the grief-stricken family continued to eat and maintain some semblance of structure.
Though Wade was grateful to Sadie for the sake of the rest of the children, he couldn’t offer her even one word of encouragement. To his way of thinking, she was partly to blame for the unbearable pain Wade carried. Clyde had died thinking Wade had betrayed him. He couldn’t come to terms with that irreversible truth.
A few weeks later, while cleaning out Clyde’s room, Wade located the jar containing the money he’d earned doing chores. It surprised him to discover that the cash he’d been accused of stealing was still rolled up in the same place where Sadie had planted it. When he found some time alone, he unrolled the wad of bills and counted them, discovering for the first time how much Clyde had thought he’d stolen. It was nearly eighty dollars, much more than Wade would have guessed. His eyes stung with tears as he recalled Clyde’s anger and disappointment, and he wished more than anything to speak to him one last time.
But that would never happen. He removed Clyde’s eighty dollars from the jar and placed it back in the nightstand, where Sadie could find it later. He stuffed what he’d earned from his chores in his saddlebag. That evening while the rest of the family ate supper, he sat on the cot in his room, holding his packed bag in his lap and pondering his departure. Though he felt bad that he was going to abandon the children, especially Grace, his guilt was negligible compared to the mountain of grief he felt as a result of Clyde’s death. He dismissed the notion of taking Grace or anyone else with him. It wouldn’t be in their best interest.
He remembered the promise he’d made to Clyde when he’d first joined the family. Clyde had made him promise to inform him if he wished to leave, not just slink out when no one was watching. “I can’t tell you I’m leaving, Pa, because you’re not here,” he said in a scoff.
Though he knew leaving without informing anyone would be against Clyde’s wishes, Wade determined he was no longer bound by his promise, and he couldn’t face saying goodbye. The only man he’d ever loved and respected was dead, and Wade’s loyalty died with him. He hadn’t wanted a family in the first place.
He waited until the rest of the household slept. Then, fueled by grief and anger, he silently slipped into the night and began his journey west, determined to leave all the pain of his childhood behind him.
Chapter Seven
Five years later
Sadie kneaded the dough slowly and carefully, like she'd done every Saturday morning from the time she was nine years old to her present age of twenty-one. It was a chore that soothed her. She liked feeling the cold, wet mixture against the balls of her hands. The bread she baked that day would last until the following Saturday, when she would perform the same duty again.
“Howdy, Sadie!” Miles strode into the cabin with a rope of smallmouth bass dangling from his hand. “Caught some big’uns today.”
Sadie thanked him, though she didn’t exactly feel grateful. Instead of the cabin holding the delicious scent of bread like she’d been anticipating, the stench of fish already filled the space. Instead of enjoying a book after she finished kneading the bread, she would be mopping up the mud Miles tracked in from the riverbank. Still, having fish for supper would be a nice change from the potato soup they’d eaten the last few evenings. Luke joined his twin brother a few minutes later, tracking in more mud, but Sadie didn’t scold him. She knew it would do nothing but cause a sour mood to descend over the house, and she wanted to maintain as much happiness there as possible.
The family had been through enough sadness on account of their pa’s murder. Wade’s grief had caused him to up and leave, the twins had become withdrawn for a long while, and Ada’s grades had declined rapidly in school.
Grace had arguably suffered the worst. After Clyde’s death, she’d become entirely distraught and unstable. She still couldn’t handle being alone for any length of time and required constant reassurance, while simultaneously acting rebellious and free from any obligation to mind her older sister. Sadie understood, and took into consideration the losses Grace had experienced in her life—first the loss of her parents by birth, then Clyde’s death, and lastly the disappearance of Wade, who Grace worshiped.
Wade’s departure had struck them all hard, especially since they’d been in the midst of grieving their father’s death. A year passed with no word from him, and all but Grace gave up hope of hearing from him again. When a letter from Wade arrived in the post from Sacramento, Sadie was shocked. It had been addressed to Grace, and in the letter, Wade had asked after all the children except for Sadie, pointedly leaving her name out of all mention.
Sadie hadn’t blamed him. She knew she deserved that snub and more after what she’d done to him, but it had hurt her to know he hadn’t forgiven her after a year. She hadn’t forgiven herself either, but Wade’s lack of forgiveness confirmed that she was right to be so ashamed.
From that point forward, Grace and Wade wrote to each other often. Miles, Luke, and Ada wrote occasionally, and Wade kept them apprised of his activities. Upon reaching California, he found a job at the Themis, Sacramento’s budding and lucrative newspaper. Climbing the ranks from errand boy to reporter, he eventually became one of the feature writers.
When he started wiring money to them, the family realized how successful he’d become. Wade never bragged about it or acted like it was any great inconvenience to him, but the money he sent was substantial. It kept the Shaw family fed and clothed, and they even had some money left over to fund niceties such as brand-new tack for the horses, hairbows for Grace and Ada, and dusters of the latest fashion for Miles and Luke.
Eventually, in one of his letters, Wade asked Grace about Sadie, inquiring as to her health and state of mind. Judging by his words, it seemed to Sadie that Wade had forgiven her, though she’d never asked for his forgiveness. She’d never been able to find the right words. How could she go about apologizing for a betrayal that could never be rectified? In the years since Clyde’s death, she hadn’t come any closer to figuring that out.
Sadie placed the kneaded dough on a pan and set it by the window to rise for an hour. As she washed her hands in the basin, Grace burst into the door. “Sadie!” she shouted. Sadie looked back to see her sister waving a letter over her head. “It’s from Wade! He’s coming to visit us.” Her expression was one of pure, childish delight, as though she w
ere nine years old and not nineteen.
The boys let out whoops of joy and surprise. Ada smiled from where she was sitting at the table doing homework. As for Sadie, a myriad of emotions flowed through her—fear being the most prominent. What would she say to him after all this time?
She composed herself and worked to keep the tremor out of her voice when she asked, “When is he arriving?”
Grace beamed. “He wrote that he planned to leave the very next day after posting this letter. That was a month ago. He could walk in right now!” She giggled and ran back outside to see if by chance her words had summoned him, before running inside again.
Panic shot through Sadie. She wasn’t ready to face Wade. “The house needs to be cleaned, everyone,” she said sharply. “And we need more sugar and flour so I have the necessary supplies to cook decent meals.
“He can stay with us here and use the cot he slept on before,” Grace said, her voice positively giddy.
“He might be more comfortable in Pa’s old room,” Sadie suggested.
“Ah, yes! That’s a good idea.” Grace headed toward the back of the cabin. “I’m going to put on some makeup.”
Sadie scowled. Her sister used any excuse available to plaster her face with powder, rouge, and kohl. It made her look quite similar to the soiled doves who frequented the local saloon, and it only added to Sadie’s concern about her welfare.
“I know you don’t like it, my sweet sister,” Grace said, stopping to give Sadie a peck on the cheek.
“You’re pretty enough without it,” Sadie grumbled. “And besides, don’t you want Wade to recognize you?”
“Oh, he will.” She stopped and studied Sadie a moment. “Do you want me to do your hair or something?”
Sadie touched the top of her head self-consciously. The only style she wore was an occasional long braid, and not for vanity purposes—only to get it away from her face so she could perform her work without hassle. “Yes, I think I would like that, thank you.”
“Why are you girls concerned about looking nice for Wade?” Luke asked. “He’s your brother, for Christ’s sake.”
“Not by blood,” Sadie pointed out. “And you should watch your language, Luke. It’s not wholesome, taking the Lord’s name in vain, and I’m sure your lady friend wouldn’t like it.”
“Still odd that you’re slicking up,” he mumbled.
Grace disappeared into the bedroom, while Sadie thought about what Luke had pointed out. The family didn’t know this, but Sadie had never considered Wade her brother. She’d seen him as a rival and a menace. At times, she’d accepted his presence and even appreciated the help he provided but, even during those times, he’d still seemed more like a visitor than a brother to Sadie.
She stared out the window at the rolling green hills and the barn twenty paces south. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d learned her pa was paying Wade for the work he did around the house. The details of the painful memory flooded her thoughts. Clyde had summoned Wade into his room, as he did every Saturday. When Wade walked outside a short time later, Sadie had followed him and hid behind a boulder, where she watched him unearth a glass jar. Once he’d left, Sadie dug it up and saw the money he’d been keeping inside.
Rage had overtaken her, and the jealousy she’d experienced had made her ache to get revenge. It wasn’t fair. For every log Wade had split, she’d gathered twenty. Her work was double his, and she’d been doing it far longer—ever since her ma’s death. Her pa had never once paid her.
Sadie scrubbed the countertop rigorously, trying to distract herself from some of the pain of her memories. News of Wade’s impending arrival forced her to think about events she normally was able to keep at bay. Her relationship with her pa had been fraught with unspoken misunderstandings and confusion, and his untimely death meant they would never be resolved.
Sadie wished she could ask her pa why he’d been so quick to add children to the family after her ma had died. And why, when Sadie had finally accepted the presence of Miles, Luke, and Grace, had he brought Wade home and once again upheaved her life? Looking back, she guessed that her pa’s pain over the death of his wife had caused his need for noise and distraction. But Sadie had needed the opposite to deal with her grief—solitude and peace. Her pa had rescued four children who’d been in desperate need of a father, but he hadn’t helped Sadie. Rather, he’d relied on her to manage a household beginning at the age of nine.
Sadie splashed water on her face and observed herself in the mirror, a rare occurrence because she didn’t care for how she looked. The contours of her face were severe, with a straight nose and a firm line for lips. Her hair hung in flat sheets on either side of her face, and her brown eyes, while large and set nicely in her head, appeared dull and sad.
She’d loved her father more than anyone else in the world, but the same had not been true in reverse. Clyde’s love was spread quite thin even before Wade’s arrival, and very little was reserved for Sadie in the end. It pained her to admit it, but the evidence showed that he’d loved his other children much more. He’d paid Wade for his work, he’d comforted Ada whenever she was distressed, he’d complimented Grace on her sweet disposition, and he’d expressed pride in the twins. With Sadie, he’d done none of that, instead only scolding her when she was distressed and remaining uncompromising in his expectations for her behavior.
She dabbed the dripping water off her face with a soft cloth, which intermixed with her unbidden tears. She refused to dwell on the past for long. There was too much to do. Straightening and squaring her shoulders, she grabbed a mop and got to work cleaning up the mud tracked in by the twins.
Chapter Eight
Sadie parked the family’s buggy outside the mercantile. It was a hot afternoon, and she was already perspiring. Luckily, her errand would not take long, and she had a quiet evening ahead of her in which she planned to relax and mend the drapes.
She walked into the shop and greeted the owner. Charles Campbell had lived in town ever since Sadie was born, and she always enjoyed seeing him. They would occasionally talk about her ma, since he was one of the few people around who remembered her.
“Hello there, Miss Shaw,” he said in a friendly voice. “What can I get you today?”
“Sugar and flour, please,” she told him. She circled her loose locks of hair behind her ears, remembering that she still needed to take Grace up on her offer to style it up nice.
“Coming right up,” Charles said, and disappeared into the back of the shop.
While she waited, she thought about where she might find Grace. She’d left the cabin the night before and hadn’t returned. This happened frequently and Grace invariably returned home eventually, but that didn’t stop Sadie from worrying each and every time that something bad had happened to her.
Charles carried out the bags of sugar and flour and placed them by her buggy as another customer pulled up. “I’ll be just a minute, Miss Shaw, and then I’ll help you get those goods in the buggy and strap ‘em down for you.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I can take care of it. Thank you, Mr. Campbell,” Sadie said.
Charles looked at her doubtfully but then nodded and turned to assist the other customer.
Grasping two sides of a burlap sack, she tried to lift it with no luck. She was surprised by its weight. It seemed much heavier than the last time she’d purchased it. With a grunt, she redoubled her efforts and half-lifted, half-dragged the flour toward the back.
“Let me help you with that,” a man’s voice said. In the next moment, the sack was being removed from its spot on the ground and heaved into the buggy.
Out of breath from the brief exertion, she turned to the good Samaritan and panted, “Thank you.” He was very tall, and she had to crane her neck to look at his face, which was shadowed by a Stetson.
He swept the hat off his head. “Still working as hard as ever, I see.”
Sadie realized then who it was. Shocked, she opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her c
ompletely. The skinny boy was gone, replaced by a man with broad shoulders and thick arms. His eyes were still dark and intelligent, but his expression was one of a worldly man, not a lost child, and his jaw had become squarer and more pronounced. His clothes were of subtle high quality, with a seam ironed in the front of each trouser leg. A black vest brought out the crisp whiteness of his shirt, and a western-style tie coiled properly around his neck.
“Hello, Sadie,” Wade said, his deep voice foreign to her. “Been a long time.”
“Yes,” she managed. “It has.”
His gaze raked her from head to toe, likely taking in every unruly detail of her appearance. She smoothed the skirt of her plain brown dress, realizing with wry discomfort that it was the same dress she’d worn to do her chores five years ago when Wade had been living with them, though she’d had to let out the bust and stitch material to the hem of the skirt to lengthen it.
Sadie dropped her gaze, embarrassed. Normally when she went to Main Street for an errand, she at least wore her nicer dress, and she cursed her luck at seeing Wade again when she hadn’t spent a modicum of time on her appearance.
He cleared his throat. “Why isn’t one of the twins here helping you? You shouldn’t be loading the goods yourself.”
She shifted on her feet, feeling even more embarrassed. It felt like she had failed in some way at teaching the twins manners. “They had some business to attend to, but I’ll ask one of them next time.”
He nodded and looked past her at the trees and hills in the distance. “Forgot how hot it is here,” he mused. “Hot and sticky.”
Relieved for talk of banal matters, she agreed, “Yes, sure is, ‘specially in July.” She removed her bandana from the pocket of her dress and wiped her face. “When did you arrive from Sacramento?”
“Late last night,” he replied. “I checked into the Brynn Hotel.”
When He Returns: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 6
