by Linda Ford
“Whoopie! In that thing? I guess I do.” She called to tell her mother she was going out and raced toward the street. By the time Madge reached the driver’s side, Joanie had squirmed into the new leather seat. “This is so nice.” She shifted and faced Madge. “Spill it all. What did you do to get this fancy machine?”
“I worked for Mrs. Gratton. This will pay my wages, plus several more months of work.” They drove through town, drawing more than one set of admiring eyes as Madge explained the deal. She hoped the banker would hear of the car in the next few minutes. “I’m not keeping it.”
“Why not? It’s beautiful.”
“Not big enough for the family, though. And can you see me hauling laundry around in it?”
“A girl driving this kind of car shouldn’t be doing laundry.”
They both laughed at the way reality and fancy clashed in this automobile.
“How are Connie and his family doing?”
“Conrad,” she corrected automatically. “They’re doing fine so far as I can tell, though to talk to Conrad you’d think it was all they can manage to get the little ones dressed every day.”
“I suppose they’re missing their mother.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean that. It’s just, he refuses to see how I could help. He says it’s too much to ask of me. Perhaps when the little girls are grown up, he says.” She made a disgusted sound. “As if I intend to sit at home waiting ten or twelve years. No, siree. Not me.”
“Maybe you’ll find someone else.” She knew Joanie would never entertain such an idea.
“Maybe I will.”
“Joanie.” Her voice revealed her shock. “I can’t believe you said that.”
Joanie sighed. “I guess I don’t mean it, but I’ve got to do something.”
It was such a familiar feeling. Seemed to have infected all those her age—her, Judd, Joanie—and she suspected others who had not said it aloud in her presence.
They left town, and Madge pulled to a stop at the side of the road so she could face Joanie and talk. She told of her worries about paying the mortgage and how she trusted God to take care of her in her need. “I believe this car is an answer I didn’t imagine could be possible.”
“This car? I don’t understand.”
“Banker Johnson won’t be able to stand knowing someone else has the best car in town. I’m prepared to trade it for the mortgage. Though when I came up with the plan, I had no idea I would be getting such a nice car. I only knew I needed a bargaining chip in order to present any sort of option to the banker. I prayed God would make him willing to negotiate. But look. God has supplied far beyond what I could ask or imagine.”
“Isn’t that a Bible verse?”
“It is. My point is to ask God for an answer and trust Him to work it out.”
Joanie looked doubtful. “I can trust God for me, but this is Conrad. He’s so stubborn.” She bounced around to stare out the front window. “It makes me want to march out there with the pastor and demand Conrad marry me on the spot.”
Madge had a good laugh at the picture she imagined. Joanie, all fight and prickly, Connie, casting about for some place to hide and the preacher wondering what was going on. “You think it would work?”
Joanie’s shoulders slumped. “Conrad would just get angry.”
“Then you have no choice but to trust God to change Conrad’s mind.”
Joanie turned and studied Madge hard—hard enough to make Madge squirm. “I saw you with a man the other day. Who is this mysterious cowboy no one has ever seen?”
Madge struggled to hide her surprise. Judd seldom came to town as himself. “Where did you see us?”
“In Bowwell, at the play.”
“You did? Why didn’t you come over and say hello?”
Joanie laughed. “You seemed rather interested in the man. To the exclusion of glancing about with any concern at who else might be present.” She giggled. “I could see stars in your eyes from across the room.”
Madge groaned. She should have known someone would spot her. “You’re sure you haven’t seen the man before or since?”
“I think I would have noticed.” The way she quirked her eyebrows and batted her eyes made Madge laugh.
“You have seen him. Promise you won’t tell.” Joanie nodded. Madge knew she could trust her friend without reservation. “He’s Justin.”
“Louisa’s tutor? Oh, no. I would have recognized him.”
“He’s not teaching Louisa anymore. And it truly is him.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very sure.”
“I get it. He really is the cowboy you plowed into. But why was he hiding it? Where is he now? What is he doing?” Joanie almost burst with curiosity.
Madge picked one question to answer. “He has business to attend to.”
Joanie studied her long and hard. “Aha. I see.”
“What, pray tell, do you see?”
“You’re in love with the man.”
Madge snorted. “You just want everyone to be in love.”
“Right. I want everyone to be as miserable as I am.”
Madge would not confess she shared the emotion. Instead she started the car. “I have to get to the bank before it closes.”
A few minutes later Madge drove to the front of the bank, feeling better than she had in some time. She paused behind the wheel to pray. God, please let Mr. Johnson see this car and want it so bad he’ll agree to my deal. As she stepped to the sidewalk, she saw Mr. Johnson peeking out the window. She ducked her head to hide a grin. Seemed he’d heard about the car and had to see if the reports were true.
A few minutes later she left the bank with a valued piece of paper in her hands and the keys to the car in banker Johnson’s. The man had been very eager to agree to her suggestion.
“Thank You, God,” she murmured as she walked toward the Gratton place to retrieve the old, half-reliable car she was to own and repair for goodness knew how long into the future. She’d seen a few people reduced to pulling the motors out of their cars and hitching the chassis to a horse. They mockingly called them Bennett buggies after their Prime Minister, who seemed unable to do anything to stop the decline of the country. The Morgans could well come to the same situation. Only they didn’t have a horse. But unable to find feed, farmers were abandoning them all over the country, letting them forage for themselves. Perhaps she would be able to get one really cheap, maybe even find a wandering one. She sighed. Then she would be faced with trying to find enough feed for a third animal. Her concerns were common; so many people suffered even worse fates as they had to sell their animals for mere pennies. Silently she beseeched God to end the drought.
As she neared the turnoff to the Cotton place, she slowed. Should she stop and tell Judd the success of her afternoon or leave him alone until he finished with this Gratton business? If only she could persuade him to let go of this ugly nonsense before he destroyed George and hurt Grace. Not physically, but emotionally. She had a responsibility to try again to get him to change his mind. She could speak from experience this time when she told him how God would take care of things.
She’d faced the same choice he must—trust God or do it herself. God had answered beyond her expectations with the mortgage. She would trust Him to work in Judd’s life, too.
God, keep him from hurting himself or another. Let him learn to depend on You to deal out justice.
For a moment she struggled with the desire to help God by speaking to Judd. She yearned to go to him and press her cheek against his chest, find sweet comfort and rest. She shook her head. Knowing he wanted to hurt, perhaps even destroy George, which would ultimately hurt Grace, made it impossible to give Judd her heart completely and wholly.
She continued homeward, propelled by the good news to share with her family.
Judd stared out across the dust-drifted yard. He ached all over, as if he’d shoveled a wagon full of grain in record time. However, the ache was not physical. It came from
his heart. As if his blood had turned thick and struggled to flow through his veins. This strange malaise had started yesterday when he’d let Madge drive away. Not that he could have prevented her. She’d made that plain enough.
She’d wanted assurances he would let this go. Wanted him to leave this for God to handle. He had no doubt God would handle it. But that didn’t prevent the man from doing more evil in the meantime. Nor did it give Judd a chance to get some sort of justice for his mother.
As the eldest, he should have been there to protect his mother. Instead, he’d been off pursuing his own adventures.
He jerked his head up. Madge had accused him of hunting George in order to ease his conscience.
No. It was more than that. Justice. Mercy. Humility. Madge had suggested he needed all three to justify his actions.
His insides rebelled at the idea. Justice he understood. The other two made him feel like a whiner. More fitting for Justin than Judd.
Takes a big man to admit he’s wrong. Mother had said the words often as she tried to teach four boys to temper their adventures with gentleness. What would she think of his actions? He didn’t have to think hard to know she’d side with Madge. He could see the pair of them standing shoulder to shoulder, their arms crossed over their chests, their eyes blazing.
“Good thing she isn’t here.” He had his hands full with Madge. He didn’t relish the idea of a second fighter confronting him.
But right now he wished he had his arms full of Madge, her cheek pressed to his chest, her breath warm and sweet.
It was hard to contemplate mercy. He wasn’t even sure what it meant, except he was certain it required more than looking for retribution.
Humility was even harder. He had nothing to apologize for. But a huge dose of humility would be required to follow through on the idea just now forming in his mind with such stubbornness it could well be one of those settlers who dug in their heels and vowed they would not leave, come drought or high winds.
He didn’t know if he could do it. Certainly went against his nature. But if the idea had come from God…
God, Madge is always talking about trust. I guess I need to trust You. I’m going to do this and see how things work out. It sounded like a qualified yes, and perhaps it was. But it was also a step of obedience.
He went inside and cleaned up. He studied himself in the mirror. Soon he’d shed the beard, but not now. He had something more important to take care of.
A glance at his clock revealed it was time. He crossed the yard to his car and drove to town, where he motored down the streets to the front of the Gratton house.
George would he home by now. Judd strode up the steps and knocked. When George opened the door, Judd said, “Can we talk? I have something you need to hear.”
Chapter Fourteen
George’s mother saw him. “Why, it’s that nice Justin Bellamy I was telling you about. He came when Madge was here.”
Judd stepped into the room. “Ma’am, I have a little confession to make. I’m really not Justin.” He watched George. “My name is Judd Kirk.”
George fell back a step. “Edna’s son.” His color faded like a white blind pulled over his face.
“That’s right.”
“What are you doing here? How is—” He swallowed hard. “How is your mother?”
“I guess as well as one could expect, considering.” He would not speak of the matter in Grace’s presence. “I’d prefer to talk to you in private.”
George struggled to pull himself together, then nodded. “Come into the front room.”
Grace sighed. “Obviously this business is much too profound for a woman. I will wait in the kitchen.” Sniffing, she marched regally into the far room.
Judd followed George and chose a straight-backed chair while George perched on the edge of the maroon sofa.
George cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”
Judd thought he’d sorted it out, but now anger combined with pain at how much his mother had lost. “You stole my mother’s savings and left her to face the consequences. She lost her house. While you—” He pointedly looked around the nice home the Grattons lived in. “You seem to have done well.”
“I didn’t steal her money. She gave it to me to invest. I promised she’d make a good return. But then the crash came and I lost it all.”
How convenient to blame the crash. “Left her penniless.” He curled his fists, warring a desire to plow them into the man’s nose. “Never spoke to her after you did so.”
“How could I face her?”
“Like a man.”
“Her money is gone. My mother’s money is gone. I foolishly thought I could make a fortune in the stock market. Instead, I lost it all. I ruined my mother as well as yours.”
“How do you intend to repay it?” His voice was brittle, unforgiving, but he would not accept any petty excuses.
“I can’t.” George’s face wrinkled as if he fought back tears. “At least not now. But I will repay every penny if it takes the rest of my life.”
“Noble words, but is she supposed to sit in abject poverty clinging to someday?”
George’s face whitened even more, something Judd would have thought impossible. “Is she?”
“She lost every penny. What was she to do? It’s only because she has three grown sons she isn’t begging on the corner of a street, sleeping in alleyways.” It was an exaggeration. Mother insisted she and Levi would manage quite fine. She would find work, maybe as a seamstress, and Levi was old enough to earn money, though they knew there were forty able-bodied men for every job. Nevertheless, she said they would be happy enough in a tiny house a friend had offered her.
George leaned over his knees, cradled his head in his hands. “I wanted to take care of her. We met at a church supper and became friends. I was so impressed with her. She had such eagerness for life. When she learned I worked in a bank and did investments, she asked me to invest her savings. She trusted me.” He moaned. “I’ve ruined so many lives.”
From this position, Judd saw a broken man. Pity stirred within his chest. Mercy? Was that what it was? Madge had suggested he seek the truth. He had to know. “What exactly did you do?”
George told a story of an opportunity presented to him by an acquaintance, a chance to double his money in a matter of weeks. “Fail proof,” he said. “How could I be so gullible? So greedy?” Turned out the venture had disappeared into a bottomless pit like so many in the 1929 crash.
“Why didn’t you tell my mother the truth?”
George closed his eyes and struggled for control. “You have to understand, I love her. But instead of caring for her, I ruined her. I couldn’t face her.”
Loved her? He hadn’t considered that possibility and wasn’t ready to accept it.
George gave Judd a demanding look. “Is she okay?”
“She’s living with my brother.”
“Please, don’t tell her you’ve seen me. I want her to forget she’s ever heard the name George Gratton.”
“I can’t give such a promise.” He didn’t know if he would have done his duty unless he informed his mother he’d seen George. Nor was he satisfied there was justice while George lived in this big house. He glanced about, noted with surprise the sparse furnishings.
George observed his interest. “This house is not mine. I’m here by the generosity of Mr. Johnson, who is related to my mother’s cousin. We lost our house, most of our fine belongings, too. Everything except a few things Mother refused to part with. Like I said, I ruined my mother as well as yours. To my sorrow and shame.”
He pushed to his feet and held out his hand. “You have my word that I will spend the rest of my life repaying my debt.”
Judd refused the hand. “I’ve dealt with sneaky salesmen before. Words come easy, appear sincere, but beneath is a scheme. What’s yours?”
George dropped his arm to his side and staggered back as if Judd had struck him. “I have no scheme. I have nothing but
regrets.”
“I’ve seen people coming and going late at night.” Only one man, but maybe George would admit to more.
“There’s been no one but Pastor Jones, who has come to offer me spiritual comfort.”
Judd rose and stared out the window. It all sounded reasonable. But was it only smooth talk? How could he trust the man?
In his mind he pictured Madge, leaning forward, pleading as she told him to trust God to handle things. Was God asking the same thing? Yes, he knew he could trust God, but he was reluctant to trust men—one man in particular. But he was tired of sneaking around, pretending to be Justin Bellamy, forcing every thought to the task of watching George Gratton.
A smile pulled at his mouth. He might have tried to force every thought in that direction, but the vast majority of them headed down quite a different path to a pretty, intense, high-minded young woman and the way she fit so neatly in his arms and smelled of laundry soap and fresh air.
With a start he realized how foolish he looked, grinning as he stared out the window at nothing. He sobered and faced the man.
“I don’t know if I buy your story or not. Be warned. I intend to remain in the area, and if you try cheating any other women out of their savings…”
George nodded. “You’re welcome to keep an eye on me because I assure you I have nothing in mind but working hard so I can return your mother’s money.”
“Be that as it may.” He headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, he paused. Seemed he was treating George in a way he wouldn’t want his father treated if he were still alive. He slowly turned. “I hope you prove to be honest.” He left without giving George time to reply. Far as he could tell, the man had said all he needed to. The proof lay in what he did from now on.
He drove to the store for a few supplies. The weekly paper, Golden Prairie Plaindealer, lay on the counter. He dropped his pennies on the dark wood and took a copy, then headed home.
The first thing he did was lather up his face and shave off the beard. No more Justin Bellamy. Then he sat down and read the news.
One item in particular caught his attention. He folded the paper to leave it on top, and he let himself dream and plan.
