by Caroline Fyffe - Prairie Hearts Series 02 - Before the Larkspur Blooms
“W-what about Emma? Is she still—” Jessie put her hand over her mouth to stop what she’d almost asked. But she needed to know.
“Still alive?” Bridget finished for her. “No, I’m afraid not. She passed on at an early age, only twenty-two. She’d never married. She contracted tuberculosis and spent some years in a sanitarium, but it didn’t heal her. Bethany and Robert were devastated.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Chase cleared his painfully tight throat. “The journal, and Sarah’s birthmark, leave little doubt that you’re who you say you are. We believe you.” Chase’s voice faltered. It felt like a raspy-edged peach pit sat lodged inside somewhere between his Adam’s apple and lungs. The diary, written by Sarah’s mother, was tough for him to hear. What about Jessie? Under the protection of his arm, she quivered uncontrollably. He patted her back and gave a little squeeze. What if they demanded to take Sarah back home with them today? How long did they have? They needed to know. “Don’t keep us in suspense any longer. What are your intentions for Sarah?”
Both Stockbridges sat up straight and then looked at each other for several long moments. Bridget stood and came over to them, putting her arm around Jessie. “Didn’t Mrs. Hobbs tell you in her letters?” Bridget’s face had drained of color and her hands were shaking. “Oh, dear child! We’re not here to take Sarah away from you. We just wanted to see her. And, if you are agreeable, meet her, get to know her. She is all we have left in this world since William and I were never able to have children of our own and my sister has passed on.”
That was all it took. Jessie turned in Chase’s arms and let her tears flow. Months of fear and anticipation came coursing down her face like a great thaw after a long winter, wetting his neck and chest. Chase felt a smile stretching across his face. He looked up at the old woman and wanted to kiss her.
He rocked Jessie from side to side. “Uh, just give her a minute. She’s been awfully upset these last few months.”
Jessie sat back and used Bridget’s hankie again, drying her eyes, and then gave her nose a good, hard blow. Even with watery eyes, tearstained cheeks, and a nose that would rival the darkest cherry on her tree, she looked beautiful. Soft. Lovely.
Mrs. Stockbridge turned back to her husband, her eyes sparking with anger. “Why would that woman mislead them in such a way? It’s terrible—inexcusable. I have a good mind to take this matter up when we get home. It’s the most unfeeling thing I can think of to do to a mother. Threaten to take her child away.”
“Where is your home?” Chase asked. He wanted to give Jessie time to pull herself together.
William sat forward, now totally at ease. “We’re Virginians, actually. Bridget and I were both born and raised in Westmoreland County, the birthplace of George Washington,” he said with great pride. A warm glow in his eyes made Chase like this man very much. “Then after we married, we moved to Richmond, where I set up my medical practice.”
“You’re a doctor?” Jessie, now composed, tried a wobbly smile. Bridget had reclaimed her spot next to William.
“I am. A surgeon. I still practice, but with my advancing age I find myself lecturing more and cutting less. I enjoy the medical students very much.”
Love beamed from the little woman’s face. “Don’t let my husband fool you. He’s highly respected. He’s done some amazing surgeries that were thought near impossible.” She reached over and patted his hands, a gesture Chase was getting used to seeing. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”
“And you, my dear, are an amazing woman. She’s worked on the hospital committee for twenty-five years, been the annual bazaar chairwoman innumerable times for our church, taking on all that entails.”
“That’s nothing,” Bridget said softly.
“And she’s been an active member of the women’s suffrage movement since I can remember. It’s been, and still is, a long, hard struggle.”
Revived, Jessie now sat straighter. “We have the vote here in Wyoming. Since December 10, 1869.”
“That’s so,” Chase added. “But I heard it wasn’t in an effort to give women a voice, just necessary to get some to come to this wild, wide-open territory.”
Bridget giggled and pointed a finger at him. “Whatever the reasons, young man, it’s made your territory a better place.”
Chase nodded. “I agree wholeheartedly.” He glanced at Jessie, thinking how alone she’d been in her little Wyoming cabin in Valley Springs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m hoping for statehood soon. Governor Hoyt believes we’re moving in that direction.”
A commotion outside brought Chase to his feet. “I’ll see what that is.”
Before he made it to the door, Sarah burst through, her braids flying behind her, and she ran to Jessie and threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Mommy! Mommy! Shane got stung by a bee!”
Both William and Bridget sat transfixed. The looks on their faces made Chase tear up himself, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. Jessie was holding Sarah, probably longer than the current bee catastrophe called for, but he knew it was really the long-percolating threat of losing her daughter that made his wife so sentimental now.
The moment Gabe came through the door, Shane, who he held in his arms, reached for Chase. Jake was close behind. The toddler blinked tear-filled eyes several times before he launched into another round of sobs. “Arm, my arm,” he said, pointing to a red swollen blotch above his elbow. “Hurts…”
“I’m sorry, Jessie,” Gabe said. “We should have watched him better. It all happened so quickly.”
Jake twisted his hat in his palms, and concern pulled the corners of his mouth sharply.
Everyone stood. “It’s not your fault,” Jessie said. “We’ve all been stung before. I’d like you to meet William and Bridget Stockbridge. Family from Virginia.” She winked at the boys’ confused looks.
She took Sarah by her small shoulders and turned her toward the waiting couple. “Sarah, this is your uncle, William Stockbridge, and your aunt, Bridget Stockbridge. They have traveled many, many miles to meet you.”
Sarah, not really understanding what was going on, tilted her head back against Jessie’s tummy and looked up at her with all the love in the world. Jessie smiled and then let her gaze touch each face until it came to Jake’s, where it stopped and lingered. “We’re a quilted-together family, some lineages known, some unknown. But whatever our roots, we couldn’t have more love and respect for each other if we tried.” She glanced over to the Stockbridges. “Welcome.”
“Thank you,” Bridget whispered between Shane’s cries. She took a step toward Sarah. “She’s the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.”
“And, of course, I agree with that, my dear. But right now, we have a little patient that needs tending.” William slowly walked over to examine Shane’s arm. “No stinger. That’s good. Jessie, would you happen to have some witch hazel and a little bit of honey?”
When Jessie looked at Chase, he knew everything was going to be all right. Actually, much better than that. Of course they would welcome the Stockbridges into Sarah’s life. Both being orphans, he and Jessie longed for any knowledge about their own heritage. To actually have relatives was a great blessing. Jessie must have read his expression because she gave him her special smile before hurrying off to the kitchen.
Bridget called Sarah over, taking something frilly from her handbag. “This is for you, sweetheart,” she said. “I made it on our trip out. I hope it will fit.” She gently placed a blue velvet bonnet on Sarah’s head and carefully tied the bow underneath her chin. “Do you like it?”
Sarah nodded. When she smiled, her missing front tooth made Bridget laugh softly.
“May I give you a hug?”
Chase nodded when Sarah looked for his approval, but he couldn’t watch.
He glanced down at Shane after Sarah’s aunt wrapped her in her arms and rubbed her cheek across the top of Sarah’s head. He felt his face heat up for the hundredt
h time today and wished Jessie would hurry up with that concoction. Things were getting plenty sentimental out here.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Since it was Saturday, Thom stayed at the Red Rooster before heading to the livery, ignoring the dizziness that had seemed to plague him since Rome’s arrest. He had too many tasks to fulfill to worry about that or the headache that had gripped him last night. His symptoms would pass. They always did. With the new plaster-flour mixture Hannah had invented, he went around patching cracks in the inn’s chink, which had made the place drafty. Now, with the warm weather, it didn’t seem so important, but once winter rolled around and snow started to fall, Mrs. Hollyhock would feel a difference.
Would he still be here by then? A hollow feeling pressed in his belly. He was restless. Needed a plan. Seemed with the catching of the rustlers last night, and then Albert offering him a job, a burning need to know what the future held was nipping at his heels.
He paused and gazed out the kitchen window. Mrs. Hollyhock made her way around the chicken coop, tossing cracked corn to her pets. Thom smiled. Ivan lay by the wire fence, chin on paws, gazing in.
She turned, then waved. Thom went to the front window and looked out. Hannah, with Markus in hand, rounded the corner. Hannah let go, and Markus ran into the coop. The two women talked for a moment, and then Hannah headed for the inn.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling. “Violet said you were here.” She came up and gave him a hug and peck on the cheek. “Actually, so did Win.”
“You looking for me?”
“Of course.” She looked around the room. “The place looks nice. I’m glad you’re here with Violet. I worry about her being out here alone. Are the railroad men still here?”
Thom shook his head. Hannah looked different. As always, she was pretty as a picture and smelled incredibly good, but there was just something different in her eyes. Something he couldn’t make out.
“Do you have a moment to visit? I have a little while before Susanna needs me at the restaurant.”
“Sure.” He set the pot of plaster on the counter by the stove.
She went to the sofa and sat down. He followed suit. The room seemed darker than usual this morning; he squinted, trying to see what she had in her hands.
“What’s that?” he asked, trying to ignore her close proximity and her light, clean scent.
“A little something from my mother. It’s good for headaches like the one that came over you when we were talking the other night. It’s a powder she sends for back east.” Her long eyelashes lowered over the softness of her cheek as she glanced down at the packet in her hands.
He couldn’t help but cock his brow. “You sure it’s safe? It might be her way of getting rid of me once and for all.”
Hannah laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Now, don’t be so hard on her. I thought it was thoughtful.”
He took the small white packet and turned it over in his hands. Grains of powder slipped around inside, reminding him of sand.
“You just mix it in a tall glass of water.”
“Fine. Next time I have a headache I’ll give it a try.”
Hannah cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. “Thom, Albert told me about what happened yesterday. How you tricked Rome Littleton into confessing. How he cleared your name. How the Logans got their bull back thanks to you.” She raised her eyebrows. “How you used my wallpaper biscuit paste to make hoofprint molds of his horse.”
His cheeks warmed. He had hoped that silly fact would stay between the men who had been out at South Fork. “There’s more of it in that bowl.” He pointed to the counter. “I’m finding lots of things it’s useful for.”
“Albert also told me he offered you Dwight’s job.” A moment passed as she studied his face. “Are you going to take it?”
As appealing as it sounded, he knew he couldn’t. What if he dropped dead at some critical moment and an innocent person was hurt, or even killed? Everything in his life revolved around that darn bullet. He cursed the day he’d taken it and lived.
“No. It’s not for me.” He’d told Albert in private last night. He couldn’t risk it. Besides, he needed to put space between him and Hannah. He’d let slip to his friend that he’d marry Hannah in a second if he was whole. More than anything he wanted a normal life; he’d risk anything for it, but he couldn’t risk damaging her.
She sat back into the sofa, causing little specks of dust to pop up and float around in a beam of sunshine streaming through the window. Her eyes were searching. “Why not? You’re perfect for it. The townspeople, if you’re worried about them, surely can’t object now that Rome admitted your innocence.”
Thom looked away. “I’m thinking about visiting Anne Marie. Now that I’ve cleared our family name as much as I can, I think that’s what I should do.”
Hannah’s face blanched. “Why?” she finally said. “Everyone here loves you. You’re making a home. I’ll miss you. Markus will miss you. Please tell me you’re not serious.” She reached out a hand. “I love you,” she whispered. “Doesn’t that make any difference to you at all?”
The affection shining in Hannah’s eyes made it impossible not to see how much his constant rejection was hurting her. She was bound to whittle him down sooner or later and he’d admit his feelings. It would be so easy to fall into her waiting arms and spend the rest of his life there. He needed to put a stop to it.
Reaching out, he cradled her cheek in the palm of his hand. “Hannah.”
She pulled away from him. Her chin lifted. “I can understand your wanting to see Anne Marie. Are you planning a visit or staying for good?”
“Just don’t know.”
“I see.” She stood and he followed. Her face was an unreadable mask. “When?”
“Next week.”
“Well, that’s just fine with me, Thom Donovan. I should have known. You’re as stubborn now as you’ve—”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly. With his finger, he tipped her chin toward him. “Let’s not say anything that we’ll later regret. If truth be told, you’re the finest thing that has ever happened to me. If it weren’t for you, I’d have moved on long ago.”
Her eyes gazed up at him—eyes that could challenge him and comfort him and dissolve his heart with just a glance. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stay the words from crossing his lips. “I’m going to miss you, Hannah. Markus, too. More than you could ever know.” Sick and tired of hiding his feelings, he pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers. Warm and pliant, they tasted of sassafras, smiles, and growing old together. He thought he’d die from the pleasure.
“Oh, Hannah,” he murmured against her hair, “I love you. It feels so good to finally say it. It’s been inside me for so long. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.” Her response was instantaneous, pulling him close, running her hands up his chest and through his hair. Her need seemed as great as his.
When she pulled away, he tucked her head into the curve of his neck. This was their moment. There wouldn’t be another. He wanted to savor it for as long as possible.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her whispered plea almost broke his heart.
“Back then, well, I never felt good enough for you. We were very poor. Your mother never let me forget our differences. Loathed the ground I walked on, actually. And then Levi happened. I had to go away.”
Hannah tangled her fingers through his and brought them up to her lips. She kissed softly, sweetly. “Mother doesn’t run my life. I’m a grown woman, free to choose whomever I want. You and I, we have our chance now.”
He kissed the top of her hair, searching for words that didn’t sound foolish. “I’m sorry, Hannah. There are reasons I can’t explain, that I won’t share because they don’t change anything. It just can’t be between us. That’s all.”
Hannah pulled back, looking up into his face, her confusion and frustration evident. “Even after this? Even though you love me?”
He sho
ok his head slowly.
She stared. He couldn’t tell if she was raging mad or if her heart was shattering into a million pieces, like his. She pulled away, crossed the room, and picked up her bag.
“I won’t listen to you another second, Thom! You say one thing but mean another. You don’t make sense.” Her face flushed as she searched his eyes. “You’re afraid. You won’t admit it to yourself, and I can’t fight what I don’t know. Please, just tell me what’s really going on!” Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I think we’re worth that, at least!”
The door opened and Markus tumbled in, followed by Ivan. The boy’s face was candy-apple red. “Time to go, Ma,” he said, totally missing the intimate way they stood together, the tears glistening in Hannah’s eyes. “Church tower is donging eleven.”
Hannah forced a smile and reached down to push a strand of hair out of her son’s face. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re right. It is time to go.” She looked Thom straight in the eyes. “It’s time to get on with our day and our lives.” She went to the door and waited while Markus slung his arms around Ivan’s neck and buried his face in the dog’s fur.
Mrs. Hollyhock came in and stopped just beyond the threshold, looking back and forth between them. Her hawklike gaze didn’t miss a thing. Her eyebrow rose slowly. “Did ya have a nice visit?” she asked. “Or are you bickering again like the brainless birds I have out in that pen?”
Hannah gave her a pained look. “Just business as usual, Violet. Come on, son, say your good-byes.” She went over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Be sure to send a post now and again.”
“Well, I just don’t know what’s wrong with that Irishman,” Roberta said to Hannah as they walked across the bridge and past the livery. They turned onto the footpath between the bakery and Dr. Thorn’s office and proceeded up the hill toward the little white church. “Except that it’s exactly what I’ve been saying since the moment he came back into this town. He’s thick-skulled. Mind like a mule. Gets an idea and there’s no changing it.” She looked over at Hannah and winked. “We just have to be more clever.”
