The Road to Love ; Hearts in the Highlands

by Linda Ford

  He figured Kate had sent her friend and flicked a blank look her direction. “Sorry, can’t offer you a chair.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  He snorted. “Good. ’Cause I’m short on sociability, too.” But long on time which was proving to be his undoing. He’d spent many hours and years with no company but his own thoughts. He’d filled them with observations of nature and his fellow man. He’d filled them with God’s word. It had been pleasant enough. Not so this time. With nothing to do but think, he couldn’t keep stop himself from remembering every minute he’d spent with Kate. He could recall every gesture—the way she rubbed a spot on her cheek when she was stressed, the way she looked over the land with such pride and sometimes worry. The way she smiled at her children, her eyes brimming with love. He knew her scent whether hot and dusty after doing the chores or sweet with lilac-scented toilet water as she left for church. He knew the way her eyes lingered on him. Knew what she wanted. How she’d built him into her dreams.

  It could never be. Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart. Two Timothy two, verse twenty-two. He would flee the rest of his days in order to ensure Kate lived a life of peace.

  Mrs. Remington cleared her throat, brought him back to the here and now. “I’m not here for a social visit.”

  “Now that we’ve got that straight.”

  She stared at him long enough for him to wonder what she wanted and how long he’d have to wait until she told him.

  “What do you think about Kate?”

  He managed to hide the surprise jolting through his veins. What kind of question was that? “I think she’s hardworking, determined and a good mother.”

  “That’s not what I asked. What do you think of her?”

  He closed his eyes, thought to be grateful the woman couldn’t see his face. Stilled his features to reveal none of the pain scrapping his insides. The things he thought of Kate couldn’t be expressed in simple words; they would require the whole sky as parchment, the oceans full of ink to even contain a fraction of what he felt. “She’s hardworking, determined and a good mother.” His hard-edged words scratched his throat in passing.

  “Hatcher, I have to know if you care about her.”

  Care? A word too small to carry what he felt. “Why?”

  “Would you stand by and let something or someone hurt her?”

  He’d face two grizzlies and a mountain lion all at the same time if they threatened her. He stared at the pocked ceiling. Reality was, his situation wasn’t conducive to bear wrestling. He snorted. “No. I’d walk out of here and stop them. Right through the bars. Quick as could be.” He laughed, a bitter hollow sound.

  “Well, she’s done something really stupid and as far as I can see, you’re the only one who can stop her.”

  “Right. Step aside. I’ll be on my way.” But his nerves tensed. “What did she do?”

  “She’s so determined to see you get a fair trial, she’s hired a lawyer.”

  The skin on the back of his neck tightened. “Who?”

  “Doyle.”

  He made an explosive sound and turned toward the wall. How would that insure a fair trial? He had been set up by the man.

  “That’s not the worst of it.”

  He continued to stare at the wall.

  He didn’t want to hear.

  He couldn’t stand not to know.

  He wanted to forget Kate, forget he’d ever met her. Forget how she’d made him feel alive and whole. Made him briefly forget the specter of his past.

  But he would never forget her. And in order to have even a pretense of peace, he had to make certain things were well with her.

  “Tell me.”

  “She promised to sell the farm and marry him if he would.”

  “She what?” He jerked to his feet and in two steps faced the woman, wished he could bend the bars and walk out, put an end to Kate’s stupidity. What a crazy, stubborn, adorable woman. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

  Sally nodded vigorously. “I agree, even though I used to think Doyle was the man she needed. But she’s miserable. Doing her best to hide it because she’s prepared to go through with it for your sake. What can we do about it?”

  He ground around, strode the two steps to the wall and slammed his palm into the cold surface. He let his head drop and stared at the floor. By hanging around too long he’d brought this upon her. This was exactly the reason he didn’t want Kate involved. He feared she’d get hurt though he hadn’t guessed she’d do this.

  He had to prevent her following through with this terrible decision.

  There was only one thing he could think to do. The one thing that had saved his life in the past. He’d vowed he’d never go back, but for Kate he’d face anything.

  He sucked air past his hot throat and returned to the bars. “Got paper and pencil?”

  Sally opened her handbag and pulled out both.

  “Write this down.” He gave the name and address of a man. “Contact him and tell him what’s happening.”

  Sally tucked the paper away. “I’ll send a telegram straight away.”

  Hatcher gripped the bars long after she left. Would the man still be there? Would he help? Not that Hatcher deserved help. He deserved punishment, condemnation and judgment. But Kate did not understand what she’d agreed to. Doyle would try and control her. She’d be miserable trying to make herself happy.

  God, keep Kate from doing something she’ll regret the rest of her life.

  * * *

  Two days later Johnny Styles marched into the sheriff’s office. Even before the outer door closed behind him, Hatcher heard his strident ringing voice and started to grin. He’d come.

  The door to the cell area opened and Johnny strode in. He’d aged since Hatcher last saw him. His hair had turned silver, his face developed more lines. But he still carried an air of authority that made men jump to attention when he entered a room. His suit jacket looked freshly pressed, his trousers sharply creased down the center. He looked as if he’d walked out of the tailor’s shop, not spent many hours traveling west.

  Hatcher scratched his elbow and sniffed. Sleeping and living in the same set of clothes for days, sharing his space with assorted vermin hadn’t given Hatcher a chance for much grooming. He’d been allowed to shave only twice. He could smell himself coming and going. Course in a cell this size they were the same thing. He brushed at his trousers, pulled at his shirtsleeves knowing nothing he did would improve his looks.

  “Well, boy. Here we are again.” Johnny stuck his hand through the bars and shook Hatcher’s hand, seemingly unmindful of how soiled Hatcher was. “How do you manage to get yourself into these situations?”

  Hatcher shrugged. “I had nothing to do with this one.” Except he’d hung around too long. If he’d headed down the road that first day, none of this would have happened. Kate would not be in such an unthinkable position.

  “I got a detailed account from the woman who contacted me. I’ll start digging as soon as I leave here. We’ll find the truth.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t want to bother you but—” Hatcher told him what Kate had done. “I don’t want her marrying that man.”

  “You interested in her yourself?”

  Hatcher had learned long ago to tell this man the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. “Very interested, but nothing can come of it.”

  “Why not?”

  His gut gave an almighty and painful twist. Why not? Because he didn’t deserve a woman like Kate and she didn’t need or deserve someone like him. But he put a shrug in his voice as he answered Johnny. “Because of who I am. What I did. Have you forgotten?”

  Johnny leaned against the wall and studied Hatcher long and steady. Hatcher returned the look.r />
  “You’re still blaming yourself for what happened? Even though it was an accident?”

  Hatcher knew the truth about how he felt, the anger burning against his tormentors. “My temper was to blame.”

  “No more than the boys who taunted you.”

  “I threw the first punch.”

  “But not the last. And you didn’t make Jerry fall and hit his head.”

  Hatcher scrubbed his hand over his stubbled chin. Ten years had not erased the guilt he felt. He doubted another ten years would suffice. He was guilty of a man’s death, would spend the rest of his life as a vagabond, making sure it never happened again. “I am not without blame.”

  “You need to forgive yourself, boy, and stop running from your life. Seems God’s sent you a reason to do it before it’s too late.”

  “How do I forgive myself?” He shook himself. “Besides, I can’t let myself care about anyone. I’m afraid what my anger might do. Who I might hurt.”

  “Have you talked to this woman—Kate? Asked her what she thinks? How she feels?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Hatcher, God forgives. So should you.”

  What Hatcher wanted, or deserved didn’t matter. Freeing Kate from her promise would suffice. “Just get me out of this if you can. And please, go talk to Kate. Persuade her to give up her foolish agreement.”

  “I’ll do my best on both counts.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Doyle lost no time in putting a For Sale sign on Kate’s property. At least he put it up while the children were in school. They didn’t see her sink to the ground as soon as Doyle drove away and wail out her pain. It was only a piece of land. But it was her home and security. She pushed away such thoughts. Doyle would provide her with a better home. The knowledge didn’t ease her pain.

  She clamped her jaw and stared defiantly at the sign. The only thing that mattered was Hatcher’s release.

  She’d accepted in her head that he didn’t care to see her. Understood he would be on his way as soon as he got out of jail. If only she could be sure he wouldn’t be homeless, cold, hungry and alone when he left.

  Yes, he’d often enough said he wasn’t alone—God was with him and nothing could take that away. She wished she could believe as strongly as he. Not that she doubted God’s presence in her life, His care over her. But it never seemed like enough. She wanted so much more than a distant, all-powerful God. She wanted someone who shared her dreams, understood her fears, helped her keep her farm.

  But it was not to be. Knowing God was with her would have to be enough. His care and love would sustain her through a loveless marriage. Oh God, my strength and my shield. My heart trusteth in you and I am helped.

  The words gave her unexpected courage. With God on her side, she had nothing to fear.

  “Lord, deliver Hatcher. Give him the desire of his heart.”

  She would miss him always but if he couldn’t be happy unless he wandered the byways of life, she would not hold him back. Not even in her mind.

  She returned to the house, washed away her tears, brushed her hair and wore her tenuous peace like a cloak as she waited on the doorstep for the children to return from school. They would never know anything but the joys of living in town.

  Mary raced up the driveway. Kate knew she’d seen the sign.

  “Momma, you’re selling the farm?”

  Kate smiled. Her lips trembled only slightly. “We’re going to live in town. You won’t have to help with the chickens and cows again.”

  She’d expected Mary to be happy but Mary shook her head. “Where will we live?”

  “With Doyle. I’m going to marry him.”

  Mary’s eyes grew round.

  “I don’t want to live in town,” Dougie yelled as he raced away to disappear inside the barn.

  “We’ll enjoy it,” Kate whispered. How could she possibly explain all the reasons to her children?

  “What’s going to happen to Hatcher?” Mary asked.

  Kate had tried her best to assure the children it was a misunderstanding. “I’m sure the truth will come out. Doyle is going to be his lawyer.”

  “You did this to help him, didn’t you?”

  Kate couldn’t hide the truth from her perceptive daughter. “I’d do anything to see he got released.”

  “I’ve always wanted to live in town,” Mary said, her voice cheerful.

  But Kate heard the way it caught on the last word before Mary hurried to her room to change her clothes.

  * * *

  Kate looked up as a strange car drove into the yard. Then she realized the blue car belonged to Larry’s Garage, but the man behind the wheel didn’t look familiar.

  The vehicle stopped. A dapper, silver-haired man stepped out. Someone interested in buying the farm already?

  Her nose stung with sudden tears that she sniffed back. She’d get used to the idea in a few days.

  She patted Shep’s head, glad he remained at her side. She relaxed some when she saw the way the man kept a guarded eye on the animal and sensed he had no fondness for dogs. He remained beside the car. A good place for him in Kate’s opinion.

  “Mrs. Bradshaw?”

  How did he know her name? “Yes, how can I help you?”

  “Hatcher sent me.”

  Hatcher? She’d expected Doyle sent him. She tried to show no expression but guessed he’d seen her surprise.

  “He wanted you to know he’s hired me as his lawyer.”

  She rubbed a spot below her ear. “I already hired a lawyer for him.”

  “Hatcher didn’t like the conditions.”

  Kate tried to mask her surprise behind a tight smile. “I see. And what would he know about any ‘conditions’?”

  When the man smiled he looked kind. “Seems you have a concerned friend.”

  Kate cast about to think whom he meant.

  “A young lady by the name of Mrs. Remington.”

  “Sally?”

  “She contacted me. Told me about the charges against Hatcher. And I came. Hatcher wants me to convince you to reconsider your agreement with that other lawyer.”

  Her heart leapt at the thought that Hatcher cared who she married. Could it be he hoped to be the one to put a ring on her finger?

  She closed her eyes, reminded herself Hatcher would be on the road as soon as he got out of jail. Would she ever truly accept the fact and stop hoping? “Really. Did he say why?”

  “Not exactly. I hoped you’d know his reasons.”

  Kate shook her head. “Can’t say as I do.”

  “I defended Hatcher ten years ago in a murder trial.”

  “I heard he’d been charged.”

  “And declared innocent. Which he was, despite the rumors that circulated.”

  “Can you tell me what happened? Or is it confidential? You being a lawyer and all.”

  “Hatcher said I was to do whatever I needed to persuade you to change your mind. I’d say telling you the whole story falls into that category.”

  “I’ll make tea.” She hauled out two chairs and parked them on the step then disappeared inside.

  She leaned her forehead against the cool cupboard door. Would the man tell her something she didn’t know? Help her understand why Hatcher wouldn’t stay? Better yet, give her some argument she could use to persuade him to reconsider? She lifted her head, glanced out the window, saw a fist-sized white cloud sweeping across the sky. The promise of rain. She smiled and poured water over the tea leaves. One never quite stopped hoping.

  A few minutes later, she returned with a tray of tea and some oatmeal cookies.

  “This is nice. Thank you.” Mr. Styles measured in four spoonfuls of sugar and took a handful of cookies. He chewed and drank for a few minutes than leaned back. “Hatcher was twenty-three years old. His mother di
ed that spring. His father decided to try his hand in the stock market and lost everything, including the farm Hatcher and his older brother, Lowell, had worked hard to get into pristine condition. Lowell, in disgust, left. Hatcher and his father were forced to move into town. His father fell into a deep depression. Hatcher struggled to keep things together as best he could. I tell you all this to explain that Hatcher turned into an angry young man. He got to be known as a kid with a short fuse. Other men got a kick out of setting him off, seeing him tackle everyone and anyone.”

  Johnny paused to enjoy more tea and cookies.

  Kate rolled her cup back and forth between her palms and waited. The hot west wind drove the impotent cloud across the sky. Part of her considered going with Hatcher. She knew how to live on the road.

  She shook her head. What was she thinking? She’d never do that to her children. Far better they enjoy town life and she endure the empty loneliness of a loveless marriage.

  The cookies consumed, Mr. Styles picked up the thread of his story. “Well, that fateful night, they did it again. Half a dozen of them started taunting him, calling his father insulting things, making slurs against his mother. As predicted, he started throwing his fists. No one could really remember who hit whom though Hatcher insists he remembers punching Jerry in the nose. At some point in the fight, Jerry went down and struck his head on a rock and died. The sheriff arrested the lot of them but it was Hatcher who was charged with murder in Jerry’s death. The sheriff, you see, was sick and tired of breaking up the fights. But no one could say if Hatcher even struck him and all the witnesses agreed it had been a general melee. Eventually Hatcher was declared innocent.”

  She saw a young man dealing with too many tragedies, trapped by circumstances and pain he couldn’t control, taunted by unsympathetic people. She felt a burning anger toward the people and events that made Hatcher’s life so miserable he could find no way to deal with it except striking out. She wanted to scream a protest that a man had died and Hatcher unnecessarily blamed himself.