At Liberty to Love (Texas Romance Book 7)

by Caryl McAdoo

“She is. Should be down shortly.” He tilted his head a bit sideways. “Was that our boy I heard before the first cock crow?”

  “Afraid so. He had another bad dream. I finally got him back to sleep about an hour ago, bless the little guy’s heart.”

  He inhaled deeply then nodded. “Have any idea what’s bothering him?”

  “Not really. You know his real mother ran off and his grandmother was raising him and Gabriel before she died.”

  “Yes, I’d heard that. Let me know if he tells you anything specific.”

  “Of course. I will.”

  “I pray for all our babies, but I’ll double my efforts on his behalf, for both your sakes.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled even though she didn’t much feel like it. The days ticked by. Bonnie and Jasper would be married in two weeks, then what? Could she really break her and Marcus’ hearts? “How’s the portrait coming? He refuses any previews.”

  “Same here. He showed us the initial sketch that we all loved but says we can see it when it’s finished.”

  “Artist.”

  Jethro smiled. “Exactly.”

  “Exactly what?” The feminine voice came from behind,

  Rebecca turned. “Morning, Sister. We were talking about Marcus not wanting anyone to see his work in progress.”

  The conversation shifted quickly from the painting to Bonnie’s wedding. Plans were falling into place. Sometime during that most invigorating discussion, her brother-in-law vanished to do whatever it was he did.

  Then the children needed attention. Such the life. She loved it. If only Mister Ford would surrender his heart, he could fill hers to overflowing.

  Even if not though, she had her boys and the brightest of futures.

  Michael pulled the chain, watched the water swirl around the bowl, then put the seat down. Mama got real picky about that, so he made sure. He’d teach Gabe when he could quit wearing diapers.

  Sure was glad that he didn’t do the stinky in his pants. Soon as his little brother could stand up good, he’d put a stop to that nastiness and learn him to whizz.

  He liked that word. Only took Miss Gwen…uh, or Auntie…one time to let him know what not to call it. Big Mama did though. And so did Boaz, too. But he said not to say it in front of the grownups on counting they didn’t like it.

  Sure liked his big cousin.

  The room smelled like his baby brother’s powder when he marched back in. “Gabe finished yet? Can you read now?”

  “Almost. What book do you want?”

  “The pirate one. Me like Red Rooster.”

  “Get it down, and you can look at the drawings while you’re waiting.” She pointed to the books lined up in the shelves. “I don’t know why I bother asking.”

  “Me neither, Mama.”

  “I, Michael. Say I, not me.”

  “I not me.” A puzzled expression washed over his cherub face. “Then who am I, Mama?”

  She laughed out loud that time, and he grinned. He loved it whenever she did that. Mama was so much fun. If only.…

  “What’s wrong, sugar?”

  “Nuffin.” He lifted one corner of his mouth as though thinking hard on something.

  “Well, just now, you were smiling. Then your face got real sad all of the sudden. Did something happen?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Were you thinking of anything that made you sad?”

  He scrunched his shoulders extra high then left them there, stretching his lips into the biggest smile he could make.

  She couldn’t ever know that Big Mama wouldn’t stay dead.

  Time! Michael scrunched one eye shut just like a swashbuckle guy and nodded toward his brother. “Gabe’s done. Him’s sleeping. Will you read now?”

  “Let me lay him down, so you can sit in my lap.” She talked real soft, but brother never woke up if you just said stuff regular.

  The grand pirate had the best stories. Michael loved going on the boat with him when it stormed and the way the one-eyed gentleman did the nicest things for the pretty women. One day he’d like to be a good pirate himself.

  Mama kept reading.

  Hard as he fought, he couldn’t keep his eyes from closing. He’d just rest them a minute and listen.

  Then there she was.

  His old mama. Sweeter than honey ’til the first man came. She carried his baby brother to his pallet in the water closet, frowned until Michael sat beside him. Then she whispered real nice. “Keep him quiet, good boy.”

  He nodded.

  She closed the door.

  Darkness engulfed him, smothered him, so he couldn’t breathe. Gabe didn’t care, not as long as he had his thumb to suck on, but Michael hated the night.

  Hated that Little Mama ran off, and how Big Mama made him sit in the dark all night long, watching his brother. He especially hated the men. Them was mean and bad, and sometimes they hurt Big Mama.

  She screamed.

  He hated it all.

  The door flew open.

  Uncle Jethro knelt down and picked up Gabe first, then held his other arm out. “Come with me, Son. You don’t live here anymore.”

  He ran into the embrace then buried his face in the man’s shoulder.

  “Can you shut your eyes really tight?”

  “Yeah.” He squinted them, but couldn’t help but peek when Uncle walked by Big Mama’s bed.

  But it was all made up.

  And she wasn’t there.

  No long knife came out of her chest.

  Then somehow, he cuddled next to his real Mama. Gabe sleeped in his baby bed on the other side of her. Uncle Jethro tucked the covers in tight. Michael snuggled in closer to her warmth.

  His insides were so happy there. He drifted along on a cloud then landed with a thud on a three mast sailing ship.

  One just like Red Rooster’s!

  Touching his patched eye, he scuffed the deck with the soles of his tall pirate boots. He loved those. The wind freshened out of the south. He liked freshened wind.

  That means it was new, not old. Mama told him. A good breeze billowed the ship’s sails.

  The pirate’s crew hustled about, unfurling more canvas, working hard to catch all the wind that they could and make that boat go really fast.

  Sailing the Seven Seas with the Gentleman Pirate…oh, what fun!

  Weight on her chest pulled Rebecca awake. She lifted one lid enough to see Michael’s smiling face.

  “Good morning, Mama.”

  “Good morning to you, Son.” She touched both of his sides and wiggled her fingers until he scooted away giggling.

  He ended up on the bed’s edge, sitting cross-legged with a puffed out chest. “Me beed a swashbuckler last night with Red Rooster and his mates!”

  The three-times-deeper-than-normal tone of his voice tickled her, but she forced a straight face. She rolled onto her side. “You were?”

  “Yep, right after….” He looked toward the window then right back and smiled real big. “Hey, I didn’t wet the bed.”

  “She made a show of patting the sheets all around. “You sure didn’t! That’s wonderful, sweet boy! I’m so proud of you.”

  Nodding so fast that he blurred his smile, he reveled in her praise. “Need some girl time, Mama?”

  She wanted to say no and quiz him as to what he was going to say following ‘right after’ but instead flipped the back of her hand toward the door.

  “You are so thoughtful, my precious one. Yes, sir, please. If you could give me a few minutes, I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her internal debate still raged once she reached the kitchen. Michael sat Jethro’s lap sipping something out of a mug. Had the man given her boy coffee? Strange that he chummed up to his uncle when he acted so reserved with Marcus.

  It’d be understandable if it had been Boaz or one of the little girls, but she’d never seen him interact with her brother-in-law before.

  Michael held up his mug. “Fresh queeze, wan
t some?”

  “Ah, orange juice. Thank you, but not just yet. I’m a coffee-first kind of lady.”

  The cook handed her a steaming cup, and Rebecca slid in across from Jethro. The man kissed the top of Michael’s head then grinned. “Sleep well?”

  “Yes, sir, straight through.” She lowered her gaze. “Did you tell Uncle Jethro about your dream?”

  “No.” He set his drink down, turned around, and launched into a detailed yarn of sailing the high seas with the Red Rooster himself. Halfway through the telling, Michael slipped down and pantomimed a sword fight. She loved it.

  But better yet, loved that the boy dreamed of fun adventures rather than the monsters that had plagued him before.

  After breakfast, she found herself alone with just Mary Rachel and Jethro, apparently by design. In the few days she’d been visiting, she’d never known the cook to be anywhere else but the kitchen.

  “Yesterday after we talked, I made a few inquiries.” Her sister knew everyone in town, and of course they all loved her. “It seems Michael witnessed his grandmother’s murder.”

  Rebecca’s heart jumped to her throat. “What?” Sharp pain stabbed it. “Mercy! Poor baby! No wonder he has nightmares. Have they caught her killer?”

  “Not yet. Seems the lady had numerous gentleman callers—all strangers.”

  “Michael saw it all?”

  “I located the deputy who found him and Gabriel.” Jethro spoke in low tones. “He said the brothers were in the water closet on a filthy blanket. Claimed he told Michael not to look—had to walk through the grandmother’s bedroom—but our little man must have.”

  “Oh, my precious!”

  “The officer said the boy screamed and kicked on the way out. She’d been murdered in her bed. A lot of blood.”

  Rebecca’s hands flew to her mouth. What a horrible thing to see. She shook her head then looked around, no little ears listening. “Has he ever sat in your lap like that before?”

  “No, ma’am. Came down all bright eyed, telling me you needed girl time.”

  Her sister grinned. “He snickered like it was a big secret, then walked straight over to Jethro and stood right next to him.”

  “So I picked him up.” He lifted his shoulders as though perplexed. “Cookie got him some juice right before you came.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  Jethro leaned forward. “I got a thank you and a big hug, but I’m not sure what I did.”

  “Bless the Lord for whatever it was. Please, keep us in your prayers. Both of you. I’m praying that last night will be the first of many such good nights.”

  “Of course, always.” Her sister stood, took Rebecca’s cup, then strolled to the stove.

  “Good. You’re all still here.” Marcus stood in the doorway grinning. “It isn’t finished, but anyone want a peek?”

  Ford’s love’s ‘yes’ beat Mary Rachel’s by half a hound’s tooth, if that. She spun, sloshing coffee from two full cups before handing Rebecca one. “Lead on, Mister Artist! I’m giddy and can hardly wait!”

  It tickled him even more how fast the ladies hurried him to his makeshift studio. Jethro, on the other hand, lagged behind, like maybe he regretted offering so much coin for a little paint daubing.

  “Oh, Marcus! You’ve captured them all! Every one!” Rebecca stared while her sister’s mouth gaped, then her hand covered her smile.

  “It’s…it’s…awesome. So much more than I ever expected.” She turned to her husband. “Honey, we should pay him double. Really. This is so fabulous. Don’t you agree?”

  On and on the sisters gushed, and he loved the ladies’ reactions, but the man’s face didn’t betray his thoughts, and he ignored his wife’s question.

  Was Jethro Risen a poker player?

  The man faced him. “I’m beyond impressed, Marcus. The Lord has given you a rare gift.”

  “Thank you, sir. And your approval is more than enough extra.” He grinned. “No need for doubling my pay.” His smile broadened when offered to his love and her sister. “Thank you two, also, for the kind words.” He looked back to the man. “I do have a boon to ask.”

  One of the man’s brows hiked a stroke’s worth. “Anything within my purview.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the background. Perhaps—if you’re agreeable—the orphanage on the left, flowing into the harbor with the Miners’ Bank and Lone Star Mercantile on the right.”

  Mary Rachel spoke before her husband could answer. “Oh, yes! That would be wonderful!” She looked at her sister then Jethro.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “That pretty much…” Her voice choked, and she cleared her throat. “It would cover our lives together completely.”

  Jethro nodded then faced Ford. “What’s the favor?”

  “I’ve made some sketches of Mercy House, but I would like the afternoon off to get a better look at the harbor. Decide on the best angles on the bank and store.”

  “Done. Need the buggy? Or I could hire a carriage and have it here within the hour.”

  “I would like that. And if you both would consider Michael an adequate chaperone, Rebecca would need someone to watch little Gabe.” He grinned at his beloved. “If you’re of a mind to help.”

  Silly man! Of course she wanted to help! Rebecca glanced at her sister who nodded.

  “We can take Gabe to the store with us. Be like old times, having a baby there for the customers to make over. He’ll love the attention, and I can guarantee the girls will love having him. Perhaps I can suspend their lesson for the day.”

  “Perfect. Thank you so very much. Did anyone see which way Michael and Boaz went?”

  While Rebecca dressed herself and Michael for the outing, she rehearsed what she would say to Marcus if he mentioned marriage.

  In any of the time she’d found herself alone with him, he hadn’t proposed. He only talked about the painting, her sons, or the weather, or… Why wasn’t he asking?

  Could she really break both their hearts? She must, of course. Scripture clearly exhorted Christians not to unequally yoke themselves. A believer should not marry a nonbeliever.

  What if Daddy hadn’t got saved?

  Her mother would never have married him. That was the simple truth. No matter how bad it hurt her…or him…or Rebecca.

  How different would her life have been without Henry Buckmeyer in it?

  But her mother remained true to her vow and what she always said was God’s will. Some called her stubborn, but her commitment to her word…her unbroken vow…had inspired Rebecca to stay strong.

  No matter Michael had taken to the man or how good a father that the man would obviously be.

  Still, it didn’t hurt her feelings a bit when Marcus bribed the driver to let the boy take the team’s reins.

  The most wonderful of days unfolded, and she found her heart at peace even though nothing had been settled by its end. He’d seen everything he needed to and studied what seemed to be every angle.

  During all that, one thing surfaced quite clearly. When she finally did have to tell him no—he would assuredly ask her—her son’s heart would be broken, too.

  Poor little precious. And she’d know just how he would feel.

  Might she discover an exception to the scriptures about nonbelieving spouses? Seemed to her the Holy Book mentioned something about them.

  Once before when she’d gone to reading her Bible during a sermon that failed to hold her attention, she’d spotted it and wondered then if her mother had ever run across it. She led Marcus toward her room then held the door.

  He walked on in with a napping Michael draped over his shoulder.

  She nodded toward her bed and whispered, pantomiming. “Put pillows on both sides of him.”

  He complied then joined her at the door. “Thank you, my sweet. It was a wonderful day. Best I’ve had since…” One of his shoulders lifted. “Jefferson, I suppose. Except this one’s ending better.” He grinned. “Could be even more better.” Both eyebrows
hiked a smidgen.

  Laughing, she pushed gently against his chest. “There’s no such thing as more better!” Oh, how she wanted exactly what he offered, but… She filled her lungs. “Don’t you have a painting to see to?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He backed up a step. “Of course. Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure. See you at supper.”

  He backed away another step. His eyes focused on hers, pleading for her surrender, to say yes. Let the world take the hindmost. She returned his gaze, then as her heart boomed yes, yes, yes, she made herself glance away. “You best go on now.”

  “Yes, ma’am. You’re plainly right. I best go on.”

  His footfalls told her he retreated. She looked up. Francy—with Gabe straddled on her hip—passed Marcus in the hall. The man nodded, but the young lady’s eyes lingered a bit too long on his face.

  Her full lips stretched wide, corners upturned, exposing a dazzling smile. Too long for Rebecca’s taste, then she chided herself for being a jealous idiot and held her hands out.

  “Was he good for you?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. Gooder than gold.” She kissed his cheek then passed him over. “I’ve been thinking, Auntie. Mama mentioned you said something about finding a travel companion to help with the boys on your trip back to Texas.”

  “Indeed I am. You know someone?”

  “How about me?”

  “Well, you’d certainly do fine, but are you sure? Even if you turned around and came right back, you’d be gone two months at least.”

  “I was thinking I might just stay a while.” She grinned. “If that was possible, I mean.”

  “Of course, you’d be welcomed to stay as long as you wanted. I’d love having your company and help. Have you spoken with your mother? I’ll pay all your expenses and…”

  Mary Rachel’s adopted daughter tilted her chin playfully. “You see, Bonnie was telling me about all of the Brigg’s brothers…and cousins. Do you know them?”

  “Very well, as a matter of fact. We’ve been going to church with the whole clan forever. They’re fine folk, lots of good men and boys.”

  “Would you say they’re all cut from the same cloth as Clay and Jasper?”

  The grin refused to be denied, though she tried. “I would. There’s not one bad word that would fit any of them.”