by Jade Laredo
“Dinner’s on the table.”
Luke nodded, returning a half smile. With corn-silk hair, and doe-like eyes, Jenny was an alluring little thing. She was not his true sibling though he treated her just the same. Widowed and with child, she’d no other family, and so being the mother of his deceased brother’s child, it seemed only natural to take her in as one of their own.
“Uncle Luke?”
“Samuel.” He answered, meeting the gaze of a seven-year-old child. Luke could not help but smile, the boy was the spitting image of Cole. “What’s on your mind?”
“After dinner, can you show me how to whittle?”
“Well now that depends.” He returned making sure his gaze turned dead serious. “Did you get all those chores done for your momma?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well then, I suppose your momma has the last word.”
Samuel turned an expectant pair of brown eyes toward his mother. “Can I, momma?”
“Sam.” Jenny tilted her chin. Squinting one eye, she then slowly turned her head toward the barnyard. “I think you missed something.”
“Jehoshaphat … the kindling!” Samuel piped. Taking two steps at a time, the boy hustled down the front steps and across the yard, scattering a flock of hens in the process. Looking back, he yelled. “I’ll only be a minute!”
“Better hurry, son.” Luke chuckled, pretending to pull out his pocket watch. “I’m counting the seconds.”
Jenny suddenly murmured. “There’s never a day that goes by when I don’t look at Samuel and think of Cole.”
Luke watched the boy unlatch the barn door.
Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and forced a reluctant smile. “If I could take it back, you know I would.”
“I know.” She returned.
Luke watched Jenny lift her delicate chin.
She stared after her son behind long lashes, her lips furled into a dour smile. He noticed her knuckles turned white as she gripped the rim of the basket. The look on her face was nothing less than indignant. He knew she still blamed him.
They all did, especially his eldest brother Jude.
As far back as he could remember they had always been in contention. Never did they see eye to eye, nor would they ever. Jude was a relentless thorn in his side, a constant reminder of his own contrition within himself. Shaking his head, he tried deflecting his deep-rooted thoughts of his brother, leaned back and closed his eyes.
A cool breeze blew in, rattling a tuft of prairie grass. Soft and fleeting, the soothing sound dwindled away with the echo of Jenny’s footsteps.
It was always like this with Jenny.
One minute she was there, and the next, she would up and disappear. Not one for idle chat, she did not say much of anything, but on those rare occasions when she did, it was usually worth his while to sit back and listen. Likewise in restless times like now, he’d much rather listen to sweet meek-hearted Jenny than those cat walling cougars he’d drank one too many with while holed up at Belle’s Bordello.
Luke opened his eyes, utterly relieved. Finally, the one sound he had been waiting for. In the distance, the swift thud of horse hooves followed by a train of dust and a fast rider. Jumping from his chair, he took two steps at a time, hustling down the stone walk and up the drive to greet his brother.
“What in the hell took you so long?”
Jake Shelton reared in on his mount. He cast a wicked smile, his blue eyes flashed bright and amusing as he laughed back at his brother who was closest in age to him by a few years.
“Wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I divulged every little detail, now would I?” The sound of his voice was droll, his accent thick with southern twang as he dismounted, holding the reigns.
“What the Hell’s wrong with you?” Luke questioned archly. Kicking a stone, he pointed his finger at his brother. “I sent you into town to check up on things, not so you could entertain yourself by lifting some fancy skirt!”
“Calm down, will you?” Jake rolled his eyes. “You of all people should know sometimes a man’s best ally is a little pillow talk.”
For a moment, Luke stared at his brother registering his lazy smile. Stepping back, he dropped his accusatory hand.
“Jake Shelton, you’re depraved, but quite the genius.” Luke returned, eyeing his brother, he slapped him on the back and nodded his head.
“C’mon, Jenny’s got supper on the table.”
After supper, Jenny sat perched on a tree stump, counting stars until she could not count anymore. The beacons of lights were thick as locust, spattering across the evening sky. Up there, somewhere, her husband’s star gleamed down from the heavens. Though his celestial marker was miles and miles away, she could still sense his presence. Just knowing Cole still lingered made her feel comforted and safe. Sometimes, when the moment was right she thought she could hear his voice, or even smell a faint scent of his favored cheroot as she did now. Smiling, she closed her eyes. She knew he was there, looking down and listening too.
“What in the hell do you mean …” She suddenly heard Luke’s voice, bordering on chaos. “The Sheriff’s daughter?”
“Hoss, are you deaf or something?”
“Ah shite.”
“Yeah.” Jake smirked. “I’d say you’ve just about got us buried up to our necks in it.”
“Wyeth Gentry?”
“The one and only.”
“The new schoolmarm?” Luke piped his voice incredulous.
“Hence, the reason she was a passenger on the stage.”
“This changes everything.”
“Forget her.” Jake’s voice weathered impatience.
“You’re talking about the woman I plan on marrying.”
Jenny smiled at the sound of Luke’s passionate insistence and Jake with his annoyed laughter. Deep and throaty, Jake had an honest to goodness jauntiness about him, not brusque and demanding like his brother Luke.
“Nothing like saying ‘I do’ while swinging with a rope tied around your neck.”
“You’re a horse’s ass.” Luke returned. For a moment, there was silence. Releasing a heavy sigh his voice turned humorless.
“I need to see her.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t be too difficult, since you blindfolded her. She’d never know it was you, right?”
There was another moment of silence.
Luke guffawed. “Please tell me this is all you did with the Sheriff’s daughter?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Well, that’s just grand.” Jake muttered. “Not only are we wanted for stagecoach robbery and horse rustling, but now no thanks to you we’re considered defilers of women.”
Jenny had heard enough.
Thank God, Samuel was sound asleep. Standing to her feet, she ambled toward the porch and stood at the bottom of the steps. She had never asked for this, being an accomplice to a band of criminals. Even so, she was just as guilty as they were. She was the widow of an outlaw, and that made her an accessory whether she liked it or not. Releasing a heavy sigh, she trudged up the steps and faced the boys with a grim determination.
“There’s a way you can see her.” Jenny murmured, turning a timid gaze on Luke. “But it’s going to cost you.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Placing her hand behind her, she massaged away the knot plaguing her lower back. Shifting her stance, Jenny rolled her eyes at Luke. “Sunday service.”
Luke groaned. “Ah, Hell no.”
Jake stood up, thoughtful. Wandering toward the steps, he took a seat. Nodding his head, he agreed with Jenny and turned toward Luke.
“For the sake of propriety, a good sheriff always attends church, and so would his daughter.”
“Not on your life.” Luke muttered.
“Well mastermind, what do you propose to do?” Jake’s voice sapped heavy with sarcasm. “I know … why don’t you just sneak into her bedroom, heist your schoolmarm, and piss her father off to boot.”
Luke issued a tempted smile.
“You can’t be serious!” Jenny bolstered, appalled by such reckless thought. “The last thing we need is a vengeful posse riding door-to-door, looking for the Sheriff’s daughter.”
“Better than putting up with that Judas and his God awful moral preaching.” Luke grated. Throwing a whittling stick to the ground, he stood to his feet, and shuffled toward the front door. He turned with one last look and pointed toward the town of Sundown. “Of all people, that snake oil preacher should know better than to lecture me about sins of the flesh.”
Jenny looked down, stared at rotting floorboards, and frowned. For months, Luke and Jude had been going at it like sworn enemies. Before then, they rode notorious, holding up stagecoach lines as far away as the Missouri border. Jude, being the oldest member of the gang took on the role as leader. Things were going well until the day Luke rode home with a woman in tow.
At first sight, she knew the woman was going to be trouble. Rosanna Putnam was beautiful. She had the kind of loveliness, which made a man question his principles, as was the case with Jude Shelton.
Luke never saw it coming, but she certainly did. Jenny saw the amorous looks, heard the subtle inflections exchanged between those two. Closing her eyes, she remembered the chaos, which followed. She inwardly cringed when she thought back to the day when Luke walked in on Jude and Rosanna embracing in the barn and then all hell broke loose.
This was how she had lost Cole.
Caught in the middle of their vicious fray, Luke fired his gun at Jude, but missed, accidentally shooting her husband instead. Later that evening, Cole had died. Jude rode away with Rosanna, and she, Jenny Leigh Shelton became a widow.
The memory persisted, and never went away.
Lifting her chin, she felt her lip quiver.
“I’ve forgiven you.” Jenny spoke up, her words sounded soft yet distant. Looking at Luke, she lifted a brow in question. “So why can’t you forgive your brother?”
Luke stood in the doorway staring back at her. His jaw clenched, and then unclenched. Holding on to the doorknob, he leaned on the door and shook his head. “He’s the reason my brother is dead.”
Luke did not wait for a reply. Jenny watched him disappear into the darkness, leaving her and Jake in uncomfortable silence. Climbing the stairs, she slid into the empty confines of Luke’s hard-backed chair.
“You miss him.” Jake spoke up. She could barely see his handsome face save for the butt of a glowing cigar, and a swirl of smoke, which permeated the air.
“Don’t you?” She inquired.
“Yeah.” Jake rasped. “I sure do.”
Jenny smiled. Looking down at the bulge at her midsection, she rest loving hands above the swell.
“It helps me to know he’s left a piece of himself behind.”
“Have you decided upon a name yet?”
“Cole Nehemiah Shelton.” She answered. “I’ll name him after your grandfather. It’s what your brother would have wanted.”
“That’s all we need, another boy.” Jake jeered. Tossing his cheroot to the ground, he asked. “But what if it’s a girl?”
Jenny shrugged her shoulder. “Cole left the girl’s name up to me. I guess I’ll think of a name when the time comes.”
“Not much time by the look of things.”
“Another month, maybe.”
“Don’t you think you should see a doctor?”
“The less people know the better.” Jenny replied.
Just then, a twig snapped.
Peering into the darkness, Jenny gripped the sides of her chair as Jake stood to his feet. Slowly, a figure appeared, standing beneath moonbeams.
Trigger Shelton smiled.
“Son-of-a bitch.” Jake muttered. Aiming his gun, he barked at his younger brother. “I could have shot you.”
Trig shrugged his shoulders. “Wouldn’t be the first brother now, would I?”
“You’d better apologize to Jenny.” Jake seethed still holding a gun on his brother. Trig looked up, holding his hands in mock defense though his green eyes registered sincerity.
“Ah Jen, I really didn’t mean what I said.”
Jenny yawned, resigning herself from their wrangle.
“Don’t sneak up on us like that again.” Jake warned less forgiving. “We can’t afford to bury another brother.”
Jenny rose from her chair. She turned a weary smile, and strode toward the door. “You boys better plan on getting up before sun rise.”
“What in tarnation for?” Trig insisted.
“We’re going to church.” She replied.
The last thing Jenny heard before closing the door was the sound of two grown men uttering a share of childlike moans.
Sunday morning service finally arrived and Arabella held her head high ready for the assault. From every direction, church folk immediately engulfed her in a sea of names and faces. Instantly, she felt relief when a noticeable man in black cloth came forward. Tall and disarming, the Parson passed her a pleasant smile.
“Sheriff Gentry and Miss Lena.” He greeted, shaking her father’s hand, he turned to Lena and bowed. “We’ve missed you these past few weeks.”
Lena gushed while her father replied with a simple nod. Arabella watched the Parson smile, the kind of smile a person gave when they knew this was all they were going to get. Naturally, he turned his attention on her. Perhaps she stared longer than she should have, but there was something disturbing about the color of his turquoise gaze.
“Miss Gentry, I’m so glad you could attend services this afternoon.” He took her hand, holding on longer than expected she felt the warmth of his firm grasp. Pulling her hand away, she sought the fervor of his gaze. “It’s always pleasant seeing a new face in the congregation.”
“Thank You, Parson.” She returned. Holding her bible closer to her chest she nodded. “I look forward to your sermon.”
The Parson smiled once again only this time, less intimate. Proffering his arm, he stood aside. “Allow me to escort you to your pew.”
Seated third row and center, she watched Parson Hanly take the pulpit and settle into his notes. She leaned forward and whispered into her Lena’s ear.
“He’s a very amiable man, don’t you think?”
“He’s the Parson.” Lena replied with a curious smirk on her face. “I’d say nearly every single young woman and her mother within a twenty-five mile radius have tried to corner the man into a marriage proposal. I agree he is quite a handsome man.”
“I suppose,” Wyeth joined the conversation. Looking over his shoulder, he narrowed his gaze as his voice turned quiet, and engrossed. “But then so aren’t the rest of his family.”
Distracted by her father’s curious perusal, Arabella crooked her chin and noticed him stare at a young woman, small and petite with honey-blonde hair as she entered the building.
Resting her hand against a swollen abdomen, she held the hand of a young boy who was intent on playing with the folds of her skirt and oblivious to church formality.
Two young men followed the mother and child. Obviously brothers, they rounded the pew and stood side by side. She noticed each man owned an olive complexion with chestnut hair and brilliant blue eyes, and she quickly surmised many a young woman had lost their hearts to such an arresting duo. Quickly, the family took their seat just as a late straggler walked through the door, settling in next to the young boy.
Arabella held her breath.
At first glance, beautiful was too generous a description, considering his brooding appearance and so she settled for striking instead. Broad shouldered, and swarthy, his powerful gaze instantly captured hers. Taken by surprise, she quickly looked away and stared back at the Parson who suddenly cleared his throat, looking down at his congregation.
“Good afternoon and welcome.” The Parson greeted with a warm nod. “As Parson, it is always a pleasure to tend my flock. Today, I am very pleased to see so many familiar faces returning to the fold. With that being
said, allow me to introduce the newest member of our congregation, Miss Arabella Gentry.”
Suddenly the center of attention, Arabella felt her pulse rise and the color drain from her cheeks. Nodding back at Parson Hanly, she grew stiff as he continued.
“She hails from Sharpsburg, Maryland. She is the daughter of Sheriff Wyeth Gentry, and I hear tell she is an accomplished pianist, may I hope this is true, Miss Gentry?”
Arabella felt her throat constrict. She had not played the piano for years, not since Edwin’s death. Invading her thoughts, an instant image of Edwin appeared. Thick-golden hair and vital blue eyes smiled back at her, young and beautiful, he the epitome of genteel southern chivalry, ever full of life, and now dead. Long since dead, she had to remind herself. Once again, the Parson’s voice interrupted her poignant reverie.
“Miss Gentry, you do play don’t you?”
Somehow, she managed the right answer. “I do.”
“Our last pianist passed on nearly a year ago. It has been a longtime since we have heard competent music accompanied to our hymns. Would you be kind enough to grace the flock with your God-given talent?”
She could hardly refuse, not to this pleasant man, or to his expectant congregation. Setting aside her personal grief, she rose from the pew and offered her father a tight smile. Making her way to the pulpit, Arabella reached for the Parson’s hand. With ease, he escorted her to an upright piano, which sat in the far corner. She took her seat, and touched the keyboard. The ivory keys shined like new. Nervous, she found a sheet of hymnal music and cleared her voice.
“Rock of Ages?”
Parson Hanly smiled.
Arabella watched as the crowd opened their hymnals and waited for her queue. When all eyes fell upon her she quickly pelted out the first notes to the age-old hymn. Instantly, a beautiful resonance came forth. Surprisingly she found the keys were all in tune.
Arabella felt an odd release. She had forgotten how much she enjoyed playing the piano. With deft hands she peered at the congregation and studied their faces, noting the delighted smiles, all save but one. In the back row, once again she noticed the brooding one. She watched him lift a cynical brow, turning his jaded attention upon her. Slowly, he skimmed her face. The intimate perusal made her so tense she missed a key. Flustered, she quickly caught up with the chorus before pelting out the last note. After a pause of satisfied silence from the congregation, she pulled her fingers away from the keyboard and nodded at the Parson who then ushered her back to her seat.
