by Tanya Hanson
Opening the bedroom door, she swelled with love for the three children who had claimed her heart. Already dressed, his face damp with soapy water, Ned ran to her, and Priscilla called out more of the new words she learned every day. Minda had meant it, telling Brixton she couldn't raise another family alone.
But she'd never leave them. She'd simply hoped her words would inspire a change in his way of thinking, make him reconsider his plans to leave. And after last night, that benediction of love, she had more than a casual notion that he just might stay.
At the stove, Katie turned with her bright smile, her hair unbraided but otherwise ready for school.
“Mama, I lit the stove. I can make grits for you and Silly if you want. Me and Ned had bread and jam.” She made a satisfied sound with her lips. Minda beamed. The chokecherry preserves she'd attempted had turned out wonderfully.
Then she frowned. Brixton always lit the stove before his outdoor chores. “Katie, I'm not sure I like you playing with fire.” With a smidge of anxiety, her eyes glanced out the window. No one stood at the shaving mirror.
“Oh, it's all right. Papa taught me long ago, when our first mama passed.”
“Well, all right them. I am sorry to have slept so late. I don't understand why I'm so tired.” Of course she did, and she warmed. Then she smiled. Obviously, Brixton couldn't wait to tend to Fara.
Katie giggled. “Mama, you need a new dress so bad.” Then she smiled in her little girl way.
Minda laughed back with a little shove. “I'll see about it soon. You children and those hats keep me too busy. I can hitch the wagon and drive you two to school, if you'd like.”
“We can both ride Dobby like always,” Ned said.
“Then I'll saddle him up when I'm done with Mabel. Have you seen Uncle Brix yet?”
Katie shook her head, pulling mournfully at her lack of braids.
“Oh, I know, I know.” Neddie beamed, waving his arm like she suspected he did all day at school. “It was just past being dark. I went to the privy. He didn't see me so he didn't wave. He rode off on that new horse of his. Do you think he'll let me ride him some day?”
“Of course he will, although soon he'll be busy with the corn harvest, you know.”
Her heart lightened. She'd been right. Brixton had merely taken Fara out for a morning ride. If he left at sunup, he'd be back any minute to wish the children a good day at school.
But he didn't come back. She plunked the children on Dobby herself. Missing the noon meal wasn't like him either, and supper was cause for nerves. Even in the first days of their marriage, when anger and resentment had colored his moods, he'd never been knowingly thoughtless or rude.
Still, he was a man, and she'd realized long ago that she had a great deal to learn about living with one. He'd made no secret of his devotion to Skinny Hank's whiskey mill. There might be card games, or contests, or other manly pursuits needing his attention before he consumed his days with harvest.
But that night when he wasn't there to tuck in the children and sing lullabies to them, their eyes were wide with hopelessness.
“Is he G.T.T.?” Katie wept, strangling Ned's toy dog.
“He didn't say good-bye.” Ned howled into their puppy's warm thick fur.
Minda didn't know, and she had no real words or reasons, but she gathered them close in comfort, keeping close to her heart the knowledge that Brixton cared for the children, and for her, in his own way.
“Now, Uncle Brix has some good explanation. Don't you fret. He's just been delayed somehow. You sleep tight. Things will be better in the morning bright.” She kissed them with fervent belief.
They climbed into bed without a song, although she prayed their nightly prayers with them, all the while silently adding her own. She had learned his lullabies, but couldn't force them from her ragged throat. Puzzled and heartsick, she dragged herself to their cold, lonely bed.
Before a troubled sleep claimed her, she faced the hard possibilities. Maybe he had left, simply unable to face the children. Maybe last night had been her good-bye. Her heart lodged in her throat. It was all her fault, reuniting him with that horse.
By morning, her attitude had changed. Brixton wasn't neglectful. He wasn't unfeeling. Something important had prevented his return. Waiting for her stomach to settle, she rested on the pillow and put her reasoning power to work.
He and Fara hadn't ridden together in more than two months. Maybe the horse was no longer accustomed to him. Maybe Brixton, skilled horseman though he was, had been tossed off and now lay injured in an irrigation furrow or a field, or along the river.
Terror churned in her stomach. Maybe another Peavy had returned to take vengeance. Soothing the children with half-truths, she got them to school and herself to town, to leave Priscilla with Gracey while she consulted with the sheriff.
And, she admitted, it was time to talk to Gracey. As a spinster, she'd paid little attention to her monthly times, but as a married woman with queasy mornings, she had calculated she hadn't had one since the week before leaving Gleesburg.
Tears fluttered behind her eyelids as she mounted the parsonage steps, and her heart pounded up to her ears. What if Brixton had brought about a child but was now gone?
Or dead?
“Why, Minda, what's wrong?” Jake asked, full of hearty concern as he opened the door and took Priscilla in his arms.
“Brixton's missing, Jake. I think something's happened to him. Ned saw him ride off on Fara early yesterday morning, and he hasn't been home since.” She knotted her fingers together.
Shaking his head sadly, he led her to a tiny settee.
“Minda, I know my words will hurt, but I know Brix better than anyone. I think reuniting with Fara reminded him it was time.”
Jake's soft, sweet eyes looked out of Gracey's pretty front window for a long time before he swallowed hard and finished. “For a while, I thought you might have roped him in. But regardless, I know he cares deeply in his own way. He can't stay, but he won't stay away forever.”
She wasn't convinced. “But he hasn't been on Fara for quite some time. Maybe he's lying hurt somewhere.” Almost with panic she tugged at Jake's shirtsleeve. “Let's go talk to Sheriff Pelton. Maybe there're more outlaws on the loose.”
Jake shook his head. “I don't think any of that is likely. I just saw Bob Pelton this morning. And Brix was practically born atop Fara. I think ... I just don't think he could bear saying good-bye to you and the children.”
“Brixton's not a coward,” Minda said with passion, and the truth burgeoned through all of her senses. He'd braved lightning storms and faced down outlaws and most of all, taken on a wife he hadn't wanted, all without excuses and hesitation.
In a fatherly way, Jake took her chin tenderly in his hands. Minda almost smiled, remembering Jake was but three years her senior. “Brix isn't a coward. It took a strange sort of courage, not saying good-bye. You see, he's a man needing to leave. But he wouldn't have been able to, not if he had to look into your eyes.”
Jake set Priscilla down to toddle about and drew Minda close in reassurance. “Now, I know Brix well. He'll be back, in his time. His way.”
She drank in Jake's wisdom, his compliments, and his hope, then shook away unshed tears. “Now, I'm getting my sniffles all over your tidy white shirt.” She reached for Priscilla.
“I'll tend her,” Jake said, as he cuddled the baby close with a wry smile, caressing her black curls. “Gracey is convinced she's bearing us another boy. Now, you go find that wife of mine for a good chat. Or a good cry. She plans on having tea with my mother after a check with Doc Viessman. You'll likely find her at the boardinghouse.”
Nodding, Minda kissed Priscilla and shook off her melancholy with a smile. It was at the boardinghouse where she'd used a window as a mirror to set right her wedding veil on that hot July afternoon. The hot July afternoon when she'd become reluctant wife to a man who now held her eager heart.
She checked her reflection there now, hair down l
ike her husband liked, topped with a sweet, round-crowned hat Katie teased looked like a plum pudding. Before leaving town, she'd lift her spirits and buy some dress goods to finally make herself something new to wear.
As she opened the door, she didn't find either Gracey or Lila Jean Satterburg chatting over tea. Instead, a lone young woman moved through the dining room toward a table. Black-haired and beautiful, she was obviously expecting, wearing an exquisite Polonaise dress of dark blue silk, the overskirt unbuttoned to accentuate her increasing motherhood.
Jake's mother scurried in from the kitchen with a teapot, aflutter with an emotion Minda couldn't read. Her eyes were like her son's, sweet and soft, but her anxiety was palpable.
“Minda, my dear. Let me introduce to you my new lodger. Arrived last night with a coachman in her own brougham. She's a friend of Brix's, she says, all the way from Texas.”
“Esperanza Eames,” the woman said, her eyes green as a cat's.
Esperanza. Esperanza. The woman who had betrayed her husband with another man was no friend of his.
Minda's eyes narrowed and her mood turned to a blaze of black fire. “I'm Mrs. Brixton Haynes,” she said, barely polite.
“Pleased, I'm sure.” The visitor laid a hand softly on her belly. “But as you can see, your husband and I are something more than friends. And I'm looking for him.”
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* * *
Chapter Eighteen
“Please, some privacy, Miss Lila Jean. Or should I invite Mrs. Haynes up to my superb accommodation?” Esperanza's voice turned unpleasantly snooty as the innkeeper slipped away, abashed.
But Minda barely heard. No. No. This was wrong, all wrong. Brixton had found Esperanza in another man's arms. This woman had broken his heart to such a degree that he believed he could never trust or love a woman again. Each syllable pounded inside her head.
“My husband's not in town,” Minda said simply, unable to resist taking a chair. She wanted desperately to leave the boardinghouse, but like a tongue seeking a toothache, she couldn't stay away from whatever calamity was about to descend.
“Let me guess. You have no idea when he'll return. Well, Mrs. Haynes, I've lived that scenario before. Not a word? Not an explanation?” Too casually, Esperanza poured a cup of tea.
Minda's stomach roiled and a sour fear shot up her throat at the familiarity of Esperanza's tale.
Esperanza gave a deep sigh. “But you fared a bit better. There is at least a ring on your finger.” She raised her empty left hand to her chin with high drama. “And you weren't left heartbroken at the altar.”
Minda turned hot in sudden defense of her husband. “He never found me in the arms of another man.”
Esperanza flushed briefly, but her bravado came quickly back. “Oh, pish, Mrs. Haynes. Or may I call you Minda?”
“No.” Now more than ever, Minda needed to hear her married name. “It's Mrs. Haynes to you.”
“Well, Mrs. Haynes, I explained the truth to Brix then and there.” Esperanza leaned in too close with her startling eyes. “It was just a good-bye kiss from my old friend Rawley. You must know by now what a temper Brix has.”
Sadly, Minda did, but she didn't dare admit it to this foe. Brix had wanted to smash Caldwell's face just for that first hand-kiss in the mercantile. A worm of doubt wiggled in her brain. Could his hot temper have led him into overreacting over Rawley's unassuming good-bye kiss?
Could Esperanza possibly speak even one syllable of truth?
Minda could barely swallow her dread, barely think a thought, barely feel her toes.
“Here's the thing, Mrs. Haynes.” Esperanza coolly arranged her skirts to display her bump. “I've learned the truth of your marriage, how Brix forced you to marry him simply to gain a governess. Well, it won't take anything at all to dissolve such an artificial marriage.”
Biting her lip hard, Minda halted a shout that it wasn't an artificial marriage at all. True, it might have started out that way, but memories of authentic, caring passion erupted like crocuses bursting through the snow overnight. Still, the heart Brixton held started to shatter. Esperanza had spoken some truth. Their marriage had begun with lies and tricks.
“My daddy knows powerful barristers who can take care of your divorce in a flash. I'll make sure you have a nice monetary settlement. Those children will be mine now and off your hands. You'll have your own life back, and they'll soon be enjoying their new little brother or sister.” She pointed both hands insolently out the window. “And in Texas, they'll have a stylish upbringing in a proper town.”
The words stabbed. Paradise was good people. Paradise was home. The children were hers.
“I'm Brixton's wife,” Minda said.
“Yes, indeed.” Esperanza yawned delicately. “Well, if he's out of town, my intuition claims he's abandoned you. Just like he abandoned me back in Butter Creek. Buck Hannon told me he was here, but my daddy has the means to find him wherever he's run to. Brix has a very good reason to be with me now.”
As Esperanza placed both hands on her burgeoning belly, she examined Minda head to foot. Minda blushed at her homely gray dress, but Esperanza gave a brilliant smile. “So that hat is one of your own creations?”
Minda nodded. “It's the jocket style.”
“Well, Miss Lila Jean has been agog about the beauty of your designs. Seeing your craftsmanship up close, I shall order several new styles for myself.”
“Sorry. I have plenty of business for the time being.” Minda rose from her chair in dismissal.
“Well, Mrs. Haynes, I have nothing to do but wait.” Esperanza cast her a spiteful glint.
Minda felt the woman's smirk on her back as she left in a gentle huff, weary of the veiled accusations and insinuations that her husband wasn't here to face.
More than that, she didn't need it spread all over town that Brixton had gone. Priscilla tucked beside her, she fumed all the way home, the wagon wheels squeaking with an annoying and incessant whine.
That afternoon, Minda was far less gentle with Mabel than she should have been, unable to concentrate on the soothing task she'd grown to enjoy. Despite her strength and her resolute nature, doubts and heartbreak had begun to stew, and Brixton wasn't here to assuage them.
Maybe Esperanza's arrival had something to do with his disappearance.
Alone with herself at the homestead, the children busy with studies and play, her demons raged. She'd even avoided confiding in Gracey and Jake, who kindly didn't pry. Brixton had made it clear he didn't have fatherhood in his nature. Esperanza's news could have sent him running.
She remembered seeing him with Tom Holden, the day Fara had arrived, the same Tom Holden who had wanted to enslave little Ned as a field hand. Brixton might have taken it to heart when she revealed that she couldn't raise more children all alone.
He might be parceling them out now to those who wanted them.
That last night of their holy love, she wouldn't have believed such wicked possibilities, but that was before he vanished without the good-bye kiss he'd always promised to give her.
As for the corn harvest, she had sufficient income now to hire Clem and Monty, and he knew it full well. Her gullet rose but she quashed the feeling.
“Mama, are you sick?” Katie had come quietly into the stall. “I can milk Mabel for you.”
“I'm fine, Firefly,” Calming herself, she tugged at Katie's long braid. “I'm just...” She didn't dare put any of her thoughts and feelings into words.
“It'll be all right. Uncle Brix will be back. I just know it, but Neddie is sad, like you.” Katie paused for a while. “He told everybody at school about Uncle Brix not saying good-bye.”
Minda's heart sank. Even those folks expecting Brixton to leave someday would not have expected him to be cruel. And now a newcomer had shown up in town, claiming to bear his child. Although Minda would barely be able to hold up her head, the children's well-being was far more important.
“Why, are the other pupils
making fun?”
“Oh, no,” Katie said with a hug. “Everybody knows Uncle Brix couldn't stay.”
Minda sighed with a bit of relief. At least Paradise seemed to accept that Brixton would return in his own way and on his own schedule.
But until then, her mind conjured nightmares at the thought of Esperanza Eames as the children's stepmother.
And as Brixton's wife.
Minda trembled with unimaginable grief. It was all for Brixton to decide. Once again he held her life in his hands. And every time she closed her eyes, she still saw his face.
* * * *
Next morning, she took the children to school after a wakeful night and green-about-the-gills dawn, planning a session of Gracey's confidence and a consultation with Doc Viessman while she was in town.
If her spirits improved, she'd stop at the mercantile for that dress length she'd promised herself.
“Minda.” Caldwell Hackett stopped in front of her before she could climb back into the wagon after calling Neddie back for his forgotten lunch bucket. “Walk with me?”
Her chagrin must have shown as she looked wildly around the bustling schoolyard, for he continued, “School won't start for a while yet. Katie and her chums can tend Silly until I need to ring the bell.”
She squinted with indecision. She, Brixton, and Caldwell had reached a civilized accord since the fair, but she had definitely seen that solemn look in Caldwell's eyes on a couple of other noteworthy occasions. Nothing in his expression indicated a problem with the children's performance or behavior in his classroom.
She pretended otherwise. “Now, I know Neddie can be a ball of mischief but—”
“No, Minda. This isn't about the children at all. Well, indirectly, I suppose.” His eyebrows lowered over his spectacles.
