Seasons of Glory

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  A man of his word, Riley’d done just that. He’d fired Brown and Justice, only to immediately rehire them as Thorne hands. How better to keep an eye on them and know their whereabouts?

  And now here they were, riding for the Lazy T and a surefire confrontation with his father. Because the last thing the Thornes needed were two more hands, two more mouths to feed, two more horses to pasture. And speaking of pasture … Frowning, Riley reined in his gray gelding and stared off at a knot of cattle grazing contentedly enough in a shallow, grassy depression between two hills.

  Brown and Justice drew up beside him. Riley eyed each man in turn, saw their questioning looks, and figured he knew what was coming. Sure enough, Abel Justice spotted the problem and gave voice to it. “Ain’t them cattle over there sportin’ the Lawless brand?”

  Riley kept his gaze on the livestock and nodded. “Yep.”

  Then Carter Brown chipped in, “We ain’t off the Lawless holdings yet? We been ridin’ a good three hours.”

  The incredulous tone in his voice narrowed Riley’s eyes. “You could ride three more in any direction and not be clear of the Lawless range. Leastwise, this used to be Lawless range. And not more than a few weeks ago, at that.” He nudged Pride forward in a canter, reining again at a crude wooden sign staked into the ground. It hadn’t been here when he’d ridden for Glory’s on the day Jacey left. He recognized his father’s handwriting on the sign.

  Abel Justice again spoke up. “It says this here is now Thorne property and we’re trespassin’.” He turned his questioning gaze to Riley. “Or we would be if’n we weren’t in yer company, I suppose.”

  Riley notched his Stetson up. A muscle worked as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. It had started. The range war. The trouble was here. And not surprisingly, it had started at his home. “Let’s ride,” Riley told his two new hands. He then put his heels to Pride.

  Chapter 10

  “To hell with all the Lawlesses, I say. And especially to Glory.”

  Red rage flashed in Riley’s eyes about a second before he turned from unsaddling Pride and rounded on Henry, punching him hard enough to send him sprawling in the dirt. Standing over his younger brother, his own features set in stone, Riley pointed down at him and gritted out in a husky voice, “Don’t ever speak of the lady like that again, you got me, Henry? There’re hard things happening at the Lawless spread, things that no one should have to go through. And you’re just lucky that, tired as I am, I don’t kick your ass all over this yard.”

  Henry achingly pulled up on an elbow. He put a hand to his jaw, tested it, glared up at Riley, and then sprang to his feet. At twenty-three, only two years Riley’s junior, he was every bit as big and hard-muscled from farm labor as his brother. “You just go ahead and try, Riley. Because I mean every word of it. The only good Lawless is a dead Lawless.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch,” came Riley’s answering snarl as he bunched his muscles, reared back, and then stepped into his brother with a big fist to Henry’s stomach, doubling him over, and then another blow to his jaw that wrenched him sideways and staggering, blood seeping from his mouth.

  “Riley—stop it! Dear Lord. Ben, come quick. Riley’s home and he and Henry are at it already. Hurry!”

  Riley heard his mother’s frantic yells, heard running feet coming their way at the horse corral, was aware of the still figures of Brown and Justice behind him, but he didn’t look away from Henry. He shook his aching hand, worked his fingers, and then pointed at his younger brother. “Say anything like that again—especially about Glory—and I’ll take you apart, brother or no.”

  Down on one knee and bent over, heaving and groaning, a hand on the ground for support, his other to his belly, Henry turned his glittering gaze and his blood-smeared face up to Riley … and just kept on. Barely able to speak around his swollen lips, he nevertheless mouthed a particularly vile curse about what Riley could do with Glory.

  Murderous rage flared in Riley’s heart and launched him forward. But seemingly from out of nowhere—so focused was he on Henry—his other brothers and his father materialized to grab his arms and hold him back. His father stood in front of him, his big, work-roughened hands on his son’s chest. “No, Riley. No more. You’ll kill him.”

  Struggling against his captors, Riley stilled at the sound of his father’s commanding voice. Then, as if a bystander to the scene, he watched his mother bend over Henry to assess his injuries. Forcing himself to calm down, Riley took several deep breaths, and then nodded to his father.

  Ben Thorne notched his chin up as he flicked his gaze over Riley’s face. “Yeah? It’s over? You done now?”

  Riley nodded again. “I’m done … if he is.”

  “He is,” Ben said, turning around and ambling at a hitching gait to his wife’s side. Speaking over his shoulder now, he called out, “Son, you’re not likely to find anyone hereabouts as feels any different than your brother about them Lawlesses. You can’t use your fists on ’em all.”

  Staring after his father, hating the limp the white-haired, overalled man had to live with—thanks to a crippled leg caused by a Lawless cowhand’s bullet years ago—Riley clenched his back teeth and then shrugged against his other brothers’ hold on him. “I’m okay. You can let go.”

  They didn’t. Held in place as effectively as any roped dogie, Riley focused on the boys in turn, looking from Caleb to John and finally to the youngest, Zeke. “I said I’m okay. I’m not going to hit him—unless he opens his mouth again.”

  “I’ll hit him for you, if he does,” fifteen-year-old Zeke offered as he, with his brothers, stepped back from Riley. As always, the boy’s shaggy brown hair hung in his grayish eyes. “He’s been hogging all the blankets at night, anyways, and I owe him one. I won’t miss him none when he gets hitched to Janie Sutfield come December.”

  Still feeling the pounding of his blood through his veins and his temper’s hold on his thoughts, Riley forced his body to relax, to ease down from his rage. Finally he managed a deep, almost normal breath, a glance at Henry who was standing up now with his parents’ help, and a question for Zeke. “Hitched? When did this happen?”

  Zeke shrugged and deferred to nineteen-year-old Caleb, no less a big-boned, hard-hewn, dark-haired specimen than any of the other Thorne sons. “About a week ago. He rode on over to the Sutfield place and just asked her. She said yes.”

  At this point, John, the seventeen-year-old Thorne, cut in with “Well, hell yes, she said yes, you big coot. How else could there be a wedding?”

  With that, two more fights nearly erupted before Louise Thorne bustled over, waving a broomstick at her sons. “I’ll light into the next one that says a word. Just see if I won’t. Now, you young’uns have said your howdys to your big brother, so get on about your chores. The body that says he doesn’t have any can just see me for more.”

  That cleared the yard of Thorne younger siblings. While Ben helped Henry over to the water pump to clean himself up, Riley faced his mother and hugged her. “I’m sorry about my homecoming being like this, but I couldn’t abide the way Henry was talking.”

  Returning his hug and then putting her hands to her sturdy hips and shaking her head, Louise opined, “That boy. You’d think Henry’d learn he can’t best you. And I’ll swear if John doesn’t have a smart mouth just like him. If I had a lick of sense, I’d marry off the lot of you to the first wagonload of women that rolled by.”

  Riley grinned. “If you did that, you’d have to do all the chores yourself.”

  She hooted out her amusement. “There wouldn’t be none without you boys.” She then sobered and looked past Riley. “And who would these two stray dogs be? They follow you home?”

  Riley turned, realizing he’d forgotten about Abel Justice and Carter Brown. Looking scruffy and unsure of themselves, Riley thought, Two stray dogs. Fits them perfectly. But maybe their seeing the physical way of things here might help keep them in line some—especially the big man, Carter Brown, whose way with words was like H
enry’s.

  “These are two hands I brought with me from the Lawless place.” He pointed to each man as he said his name. “Abel Justice and Carter Brown. This is my mother.”

  The men nodded their heads and touched the brims of their hats in greeting, each one mumbling, “Ma’am.”

  Louise nodded back at the men, looked them over with a critical eye, and said, “Lawless hands, huh? Well, you’re here. You may as well stay. You can bed down out in the barn. That’s the best we can do.”

  With Riley, she watched them collect their mounts and walk away before she again spoke. “I’ll leave you and your pa to sort out what we’re going to do with two more mouths to feed. I’m sure you have a good reason for bringing them along.” Then she was silent a moment as she looked him up and down. “As well as for yourself being home.”

  “Yep, I do.” Riley looked from his mother to his father’s distant figure and gestured toward him. “I’m going to go talk with Pa a minute.”

  “You do that,” Louise agreed. “It’s been hard on him without you here. Mind you, he doesn’t complain about working, but he relies on you, son. And you know your brothers—they work hard, but they’ve got to be told what to do. I guess you heard we’re losing Henry to Janie Sutfield? It’ll only make things harder.” Suddenly she quieted and squinted up at him, shading her eyes against the cool afternoon sun. “I’m trying to say I’m glad you’re home.”

  Riley looked from her to his father and back to her, and smiled. “I know, Ma. Things took such a turn at Glory’s that it looks like I’ll be here for good.”

  Louise Thorne shook her head, as if saddened by his words. “Well, I can’t rightly say how I feel about that, Riley. About you and Glory, I mean.”

  Riley’s snort came out a chuckle, but not of humor. “There is no me and Glory. She and I … well, there’s just too much between us, her being a Lawless and all. And me a Thorne. Damn shame, though.”

  With that, he walked away, heading for the water trough and Henry and his father.

  * * *

  Hurting for him, Louise watched her son’s retreating back. Riley walked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Knowing how to lighten that load, she made up her mind and cast her gaze heavenward. Catherine, forgive me, but I’ve got to break my promise to you about Glory. I’m going to tell Riley the truth. It’s the kids’ only chance for happiness. So, if you don’t want me to do this, then you’d best have the Good Lord send me a sign right now.

  Louise stood where she was in front of her rough and low dwelling. She dutifully waited a respectable amount of time for something to happen. Nothing did. She figured that was her sign—that it was okay to tell. She brought her hand to her mouth, suddenly staggered by the enormity of the secret she was about to divulge to her oldest son.

  She turned and saw him with his father. They were still standing by the wooden water trough. Riley had his booted foot on its edge and was leaning forward, his arms crossed over that knee. He nodded at something his father said and then both men looked off the way Ben pointed.

  Louise watched Ben turn from Riley and head toward the barn. She glanced back at her eldest, saw him watching his father’s departure before he strode off in the opposite direction, toward the corral. Louise shook her head. Her firstborn. So strong and true. And quiet and capable and willing. A tear came to her eye. Thank you, Lord, for such a son. And please give me the right words to tell him that Glory Bea Lawless … is no Lawless at all.

  * * *

  Riley heard his mother coming up behind him before he ever saw her. She loudly directed everyone’s chores as she approached him. But he didn’t turn around. Instead, he remained facing the low, brown hills of the prairie that dipped and swelled for hundreds of miles. Beyond more than a few of them, and warmed by the same sun, chilled by the same wind, Glory was going through her day. And he wasn’t there.

  That knowledge ate at his gut. He shook his head, mouthing, Damn you, Glory, for making me care. A foot up on the split-rail corral fence, his arms crossed atop its highest rail, he frowned out his unsettled feelings at the dozing horses enclosed there.

  Just then, to his left, his mother joined him. He looked down at her, saw the troubled set of her features, and knew he was somehow responsible for the lines to either side of her normally cheerful mouth. A surge of love swept over Riley. She was everything he could ever hope to be as a person. Strong, loving, firm, capable. Dressed in plain homespun, her patched skirt and blouse covered by an old coat of her husband’s, she was a rock in time of trouble. He smiled down at her. “Is Henry okay?”

  Louise Thorne shook her head and pursed her lips. “That boy, I swear. I’ll dance at his wedding come December just because I’ll be so glad he’ll be Janie’s problem from now on. Bless the girl for saying yes.”

  Despite the turmoil roiling his gut and the throbbing in his knuckles, Riley grinned. “Then I guess he’s okay?”

  “He’s beat up pretty good. But none the worse for wear. Your pa sent him out to check on them yearlings. He took them two hands of yours with him. They may as well start earning their keep right off.”

  Riley nodded. “I reckon so. I’m sorry to bring all this home, Ma.”

  Louise frowned up at him. “Just what did you bring home, son?”

  “Trouble. A whole heap of it. I just wish I didn’t—” Riley bit back his words, turned his attention to the waving tallgrass, denied that his heart thumped leadenly in his chest. He just wished he didn’t care so damned much for Glory Bea Lawless. Day and night, he saw her face, felt her body move under his hands, tasted her kiss, tasted … her.

  From his side, his mother touched his sleeve. “Look at me, son.” When he did, she went on. “I want you to listen to me. I’ve got something to tell you that will most likely change a heap of things around here. Or maybe not, I don’t know. All I know is you need to hear it.”

  Riley frowned at her seriousness, felt his gut clench, but he nodded. “All right. Go on. I’m listening.”

  His mother’s face crinkled into a gentle smile. “You always do, son.” Then, and to Riley’s surprise, given his mother’s eternal forthrightness, she looked suddenly uncertain, glancing away from him, and knotting her fingers together at her waist.

  Riley straightened up, turning away from the corral and the nodding horses there. He gripped his mother’s sleeve. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Louise covered his hand on her arm, squeezed it, and shook her head. “What happened, son, happened nearly twenty years ago.”

  Riley drew back, went back to leaning on the corral. “Twenty years? About the time of the range war? J. C. Lawless taking the land?”

  Louise shook her head. “No. That was before what I have to tell you. I swore I wouldn’t, but I don’t see now how I can keep my word to Catherine Lawless any longer.”

  “Catherine Lawless?” Riley ducked his chin in confusion. “What about her? Say it right out, Ma.”

  To his further surprise, she shook her head and turned her back to him. All Riley could do was wait her out, his heart thumping in mixed fear and anticipation of her news. He studied her graying hair, knotted tightly in a thick bun. The set of her broad shoulders, the rigidity of her stance. “Mother?”

  As if she waited to hear that one word, his mother spun to face him. “Glory is no blood Lawless at all.”

  “What?” The word was torn from him. As if he’d been gut-punched, Riley stiffened against the next blow. “Glory’s not a Lawless? What do you mean?” Then, a seeping numbness settled over him, causing his brows to frown low over his eyes, firming his lips to a straight line. Her words sank in. Speaking barely above a whisper, he asked, “How can that be?”

  “I’m tryin’ to tell you. Her real name is Beatrice Parker. When J. C. brought her home with him from Tucson nearly twenty years ago … and him trailing that danged nanny goat and its kid—”

  “Nanny goat?” Truly lost now, Riley could only frown.

  “To fee
d the baby—Glory. Glory was the baby he brought home.”

  Riley held his hands out in defeat. “Brought home? Where the hell did he get her?”

  Louise shrugged, frowning as if trying to remember exactly. “Somewhere down in the Arizona Territory. Some mountain pass named after the Apache.”

  Strength seemed to leach from Riley’s muscles as he muttered, “Arizona? That’s where Jacey went.”

  “I know. That’s what scared Biddy—finding that Lawless gang spur in the house and then not being able to stop Jacey from leaving. It’s why she sent for you to watch over Glory.”

  “I’ve got to sit down.” And then he did, perching his butt on a low fence rail. Pitched forward, he rested his elbows on his denim-clad knees and stared at the hard-packed dirt between his scuffed boots. He felt his mother’s touch on his shoulder and looked up at her. “I’m okay. Go on.”

  She nodded. “Maybe I’d best start at the beginning. One day whilst I was visiting Catherine, and you boys was here with your pa, J. C. rode in trailing that nanny goat and holding a sweet-faced baby girl. With no more’n a how-do-you-do, he just up and handed the child to Catherine.”

  “Just like that?” Riley asked, hardly believing any of this.

  “Just like that,” she assured him. “Well, at any rate, Catherine took one look at that beautiful, squalling child and said something like ‘Glory be, a little girl.’ And that’s how she got her name. Catherine changed the ‘be’ to B-E-A—short for Beatrice, her real name, you see?”

  Riley nodded that he understood. His mother continued. “Well, let me tell you, Hannah was thrilled. She acted like her daddy’d brought her a new doll. But Jacey—only two years old—clung to her mama’s skirt, her thumb in her mouth. She didn’t want no part of that noisy little critter. She said she wanted a puppy instead. We all laughed about that.”

  Riley stared up at her. “Go on.”

  “Well, the next time I paid a call, I took you and Henry with me—I was carrying Caleb at the time. You were six years old and curious enough about that baby to stick your nose right in her face. She grabbed it with her tiny baby fist and scratched the fool out of you. You jumped back and blurted out your first cuss word. And got your britches tanned for your efforts. Why, after that, you were much obliged to keep your distance from her.”