by Caryl McAdoo
A wife indeed! What a fool she’d been. These were his children! He’d been married all along!
Dear God, what an evil letch!
She held her chin up, snuggled in tight to Risen, and plastered a pleasant expression on her face. A Buckmeyer could stand anything, endure any hardship, pay any price. How many times had her father lived those exact words?
Her turn swiftly approached. Rose lived five years with the Comanche. They couldn’t break her, and Mary was just as strong as her sister-in-love.
Prescott said something.
She nodded, staring at Edward, noting every crinkle around his eyes. How could he?
He shook Jethro’s hand. She burrowed in even tighter to her partner, trying to draw from his strength.
Then Edward spoke. “Mary, so good of you to come. This is my son Eddy. Say hi to my friend, Son.”
The little chip off the old block grinned. “Hello, ma’am, good to meet you.”
“And this is Alice.”
Mary smiled.
Such a nice-looking young lady, shame she had such a rotten egg for a father. Poor little girl.
“And I’d like you to meet my wife Shellie.”
Mary held out her hand, her bracelet jingled. The woman slipped her fingers into Mary’s. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Mary owns the Lone Star Mercantile in town, dear.”
“How nice, are you from Texas then?” She twirled the gold nuggets on Mary’s wrist. “What an unusual bracelet, it’s so lovely.”
“Why thank you. Here.” She untangled her other arm from Risen and undid the clasp. For you, Mis’ess Clinton.” She put the bracelet in Shellie’s palm, noticing the horror in her husband’s eyes.
“Oh no, my dear. You shouldn’t. I didn’t mean…”
“Please, take it. I’m tired of it, and if you like it, you should have it. Think of me whenever you wear it.”
“Really? That’s so generous of you, and kind. It’s so lovely.” She draped it over her wrist and showed it to Edward, whose fear had somewhat abated. “Help me, darling.”
J. Pierce leaned across and eyed the bracelet then gawked at her. “Quite the welcoming gift, I’d say.”
While the man whose baby she carried fastened the bracelet on his wife’s arm, the woman turned back.
“Thank you, Mary. I will remember this night and your lovely gift. I've never been more welcomed, and I will surely think of you, sweet lady, each and every time I wear it.”
Giving Shellie the letch’s bribe—or did he consider it payment for services rendered?—helped some, but then what? Seeing his wife and children quenched any ridiculous ideas of a life with Clinton.
Her heart betrayed her, still wanted the man. Stupid organ, it should listen to her brain. Her head knew way better.
But she’d be showing before long. What would she do? Sell the Mercantile? She could offer it to Jethro and Moses. Go somewhere new and start over? A pregnant widow. No one in Sacramento knew her.
No, that’d be too close. Texas was out. South America? No one there would know her.
She tried a few bites of the foods she recognized. No more squid or any other strange dish, but her stomach couldn’t take even the familiar from Edward’s table. The baby claimed his due. His. Had she called it a him? No, she wanted another girl, a baby sister for Susannah. Yes, a girl.
Working on one goblet the whole evening, she only took a few sips of wine. The last thing she needed was for her tongue to get the better of her.
“Care to dance?”
She set her glass down. Jethro held his hand out. Why not? “I’d love to, thank you, kind sir.”
He kept her hand and led her to the dance floor. The band leader tapped his wand twice. The strings came in first, followed by the brass. Jethro shepherded her around the floor, surprisingly light on his feet, graceful, handsome.
Then the other side of herself spoke up. Also so pig-headed and domineering.
She needed to forget men, all men. She’d given love a chance. Twice surrendered her heart to bad men. She had her babies and Francy. Would the little girl go with her? More than likely not, she’d insist on staying with Jethro.
The man shifted his hand on her back, barely touching her, yet leading her. She looked up into his eyes.
Loving her?
Not once did he discover the truth.
Maybe she should take a job at the Golden Dragon. Meiko could show her the ropes.
That was just ludicrous. She could never do such a thing!
The song ended before any plausible solution presented itself. She danced two more with him then begged off. The shoes she’d bought to match the dress didn’t wear nearly as good as they looked.
On the way back to the table, still holding her hand, he leaned in and whispered. “Clinton give you that bracelet?”
She nodded, blinking tears back.
“You see his face when you took it off?”
She nodded again.
“I love how you handled him.”
“Thank you.” If only he knew….
Way past her being ready, Moses suggested they call it a night. Mary held her peace, determined to stay until the finale, before ruining anyone’s fun.
Even though Lanelle seemed reluctant, she agreed, and the most horrible night of her life ended. The ride home took too long, as did getting the dress off, feeding both babies, and getting her weary self in bed.
If only she could sleep a year or two and wake up with all this behind her.
For a while, she allowed the tears to flow then willed them to be finished. The man definitely proved himself unworthy, certainly not worth crying over, and though unsure of an exact destination, she had to get away from San Francisco.
Edward could never know about the baby.
Two days and over thirteen hundred miles east by southeast, Mary’s brother-in-law, Texas Ranger Captain Wallace Rusk, trotted his gelding toward home.
He wanted to run him and would once he reached the halfway mark, but he’d never rode a horse to ground, and wasn’t about to abuse this one. No doubt the animal would gallop to his death if Wallace asked it of him.
Considering the flyer tucked into his inside breast pocket, he played out several scenarios and came to only one true conclusion.
Later that night, after dinner, once he and Rebecca settled into his and her private room—finding alone time had to be on purpose living in a home with seventeen souls under roof. He’d be glad when the new house on the creek could finally be completed.
“Fancy a trip?”
Rebecca put her finger in the novel, one of Mama May’s earlier ones, and shrugged. “Where’s better than right here?”
Who could argue with such logic? He had to agree, but he also had a plan. “This caught my eye today.” He handed over the Pinkerton’s wanted flyer.
She held the paper out. “You know this Gunther Swartz?”
“No, but read on. Check the small print. See why he’s wanted, who he killed.”
Realization widened her eyes. “No, Wallace! This has to be another Caleb Wheeler! Mary Rachel would have written or come home. No… It can’t be. Do you suppose something’s happened…?”
She put the flyer aside, as though she couldn’t stand to see it a moment longer. “Does daddy know about this?”
“I didn’t tell him. Started to twice during supper, but I’m thinking we need to go. You and I. See for ourselves without telling the why. Takes less than a month to get there if what I heard is true.”
“Poor Mary Rachel. It can’t be her Caleb.”
Not so sure as his wife, but either way, he didn’t need her daddy going to California and killing the boy if he wasn’t already dead. Wallace and at least half the state wanted Henry to stand for governor next term.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jethrohad to go, even with Mary acting so weird. The gang of carpenters scheduled to arrive tomorrow needed him.
Moses, while great at many things, c
ouldn’t line out master craftsmen with any success if his life depended on it, just not on his list. His friend and simple drawings remained total strangers.
The more complex ones he’d drawn up were beyond most folks. Elijah could have gone, but he worked at the mine blasting for much needed funds.
Taking the time to tell his loves he was heading out, only got his heart broken. Francy begging him not to go, crying buckets of tears. Mary’s indifference hurt more, but as he cleared town, he rehearsed again exactly what she’d said.
It wasn’t the goodbye, but how she said it that troubled him, as though she planned on leaving. Had Clinton hurt her so bad she couldn’t stand being in the same town?
The night’s symphony offered no solace. The crickets and frogs and nightingales sang, worshipped the Creator, but failed to soothe his troubled heart. He prayed deep into the night then slept until the wagonload of men arrived. Ex-miners all, but who wasn’t these days?
The best in the bunch, a real to goodness carpenter name of Lee Baker, took one long look at his plans, checked the stakes for true—pleased Jethro he’d gotten it within an eighth of an inch—then started barking orders.
If things were different, he’d have stayed and watched Baker and his boys throw up the main building.
But he needed to get back, sensed an urgency for it. He had to try his best to talk Mary out of leaving town. If indeed, that was what she had on her mind.
At the head of his valley, he stood in the buggy and took a last look. They’d already raised and braced one wall. Wonderful. If Mary just had to get away, maybe he could convince her to come to the valley tomorrow or the next day.
He sat down, and for some strange reason, instead of moving on, he turned around and pulled out his Bible. Setting it into his lap, he opened it to the Gospels. A breeze picked up and stirred the pages, blowing through them, turning them.
The wind settled as suddenly as it had blown up, and the gust left the Good Book opened to the third chapter of Hosea.
Then said the Lord unto me, Go yet, love a woman beloved of her friend, yet an adulteress, according to the love of the Lord toward the children of Israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine.
Oh, Lord, You want me to be like Hosea?
YES REUEL TAKE AN ADULTERESS TO WIFE LOVE HER AS I LOVE YOU
Tears streamed down his cheeks. He closed the Bible and returned it to its place.
“Yes, Lord. How can I not do as you ask, Father? You are my Redeemer, my life. I will go anywhere and do anything You ask.”
He tapped the reins over the mare’s back. He loved Mary, not Meiko, but God knew that. Would the China Doll even want anything to do with him? The harlot had sent word for him to come, but that had been months ago.
He didn’t trust himself then, but now…
“Oh, Father, is this how Jesus felt in the garden when he begged for You to take this cup from Him? God in Heaven, seated on the throne, take this from me! Yet, not my will, but Yours be done. My Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy…” He closed his eyes and prayed like he never had before.
When he opened them again, the mare had stopped in front of the Mercantile. How had he got here? He needed to go to the Dragon, but first, he’d say goodbye. His heart ached, such pain. How could he?
And his little Francy. She couldn’t be anywhere near Meiko, not for a while anyway.
He extracted himself from the buggy and made his feet carry him up the front stairs, forced them to take him inside. Every step so hard, his legs so heavy. The warring going on around him, in him, fought against his determination to please God, to say his forever goodbye to his love.
Would she know how hard it was? Or even care?
“Jethro, what are you doing here? I thought you were staying at the mine.” She stepped around the counter. For too many breaths, he drank in her beauty, burning her image into his soul.
Then the small, still voice spoke again to his heart, and he knew.
Oh, Lord, no. Mary… and Clinton? Dear God...
“Jethro, why are you staring at me like that?”
He stepped closer, lifted her hand, and dropped to one knee. “Marry me, please. Be my wife.”
“What? No, Jethro. I cannot. Get off your knee this minute.”
“No, I won’t. Not until you say yes.”
“But you don’t know… I can’t. Jethro, trust me. I’m leaving. In the morning.”
He changed knees moving closer. “I’ll take you home to Texas, meet your father and get his blessing. Then we’ll go to New York and you can meet mine. We need to be reconciled to our fathers.”
She pulled her hand out of his and held them up, palms out. “No. I’m never going back to Texas. My father hates me. He didn’t want me to be with Caleb, warned me. But I snuck off while he was gone, and got married against his wishes. He would –”
“No. He doesn’t hate you.” Tears blurred his vision. “He loves you. Mary, your father is sick over losing his baby girl.”
Her own tears overflowed and wet her cheeks. “No.” She backed away a step. “He can never forgive me or love me again.”
Wiping his face, he laughed. “No, think about it. He’ll be like the prodigal son’s father. He’ll run to meet you, kill the fatted calf, and call his neighbors to come and celebrate. Does he even know you’re alive?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She ducked her head. Tears flowed freely. “But you don’t want me. You don’t know me.” She looked into his eyes. “I don’t love you, Jethro.”
He changed knees again and now touched her skirt, stood, then lifted her chin with one finger. “Look at me.”
“No.”
“I love you, Mary Wheeler. Two hours ago, the Lord spoke to my heart, told me to do what Hosea had to do. I thought He was talking about Meiko, and that broke my heart because I love you. But it was you. He told me to come and to marry you. Do you understand?”
She looked up again and met his gaze. “You know? He told you? If you know, then how can you say you love me?”
“I don’t know how it works, but God inspired Paul to tell men to love their wives. He commanded us to, with no conditions, and I do love you. Have since I first saw you.” He smiled. “Though maybe I wouldn’t admit to it at first.”
“Why would you, the way I acted.”
“But I promise you, I will always love you, no matter what. Will you be mine? Say you’ll be mine.” He grinned. “Or do you want me to get back on my knee?”
Mary’s heart hurt. Her whole chest ached, it hurt so bad. How could she do this to Jethro? She carried another man’s child. He was saying all the right things now, but he couldn’t know. Hosea, what was his story? She only remembered he wrote a short book. Couldn’t be very important.
But if Jethro thought God meant Meiko, he must have to do with prostitutes. Didn’t God tell someone to marry a harlot? Probably smart enough not to get pregnant. “Jethro, I… I’m…” She put both hands on her stomach and wept.
He wrapped his arms around her. Why wasn’t he running away? “Sweet Mary, I love children. I’ll be the baby’s father. I’ll make you a good husband, be faithful, and love all our babies.”
“If…” She closed her eyes. Could she really go back? Face her father? In a month’s time, there’d be no hiding her condition. Lying to Patrick Henry Buckmeyer just wasn’t an option. He could smell a falsehood two counties over.
He leaned back a little. “If what?”
Where were the customers? A few minutes ago, the store was packed, and now totally empty. “If my father…” Where was Francy? Or Hank or anyone?
“Go on, finish your thought.”
“If Daddy gives his blessing, then… Yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Excellent.” He held her away and looked her in the eyes. “You will not regret this. Not ever. I promise you.”
Actually, she already was, but perhaps…it could be for the best. She’d loved two men, both rotten sco
undrels. Maybe Jethro knew best, and him loving her would be enough. Lanelle claimed she loved Moses now, and they seemed so happy.
“When can we leave? How soon? I want to get gone.”
“Have you made any arrangements?”
“No. I was going to talk with Moses tonight and tell Francy in the morning.”
“She’ll want to go.”
“She is so good with Susannah.”
“Amos, if he wants.” He grinned. “Tomorrow if we can get everything ready? Can Mattie and Virgil run the store?”
“Yes.”
“Then day after, if we can’t get it done tomorrow? What about Joshua?”
She hated leaving him, but Lanelle wouldn’t part with him. “He’s eating some foods now. Moses can get a goat if he needs to. What about the orphanage? Aren’t the carpenters there now?”
“It’s in good hands. They’ve got my plans. Moses can keep an eye on it and the mine. Elijah will help wherever he’s needed. Has anyone told you about the fuse he invented?”
“No, but tell me later. Francy, of course, but why Amos?”
“Why not? We’ll be back in –”
“Do you really want to come back?”
He nodded. “No one has to know anything. We can stay gone a year if you want. More reason to take Amos. He is Francy’s brother.”
“Six months will do.”
“Your folks keep cows?”
“Of course.”
“Milk or meat?”
“Both, why?”
“We need both, and someone who knows something about the little darlings, and a trip to New York is a must.”
The man’s words washed over her, soothed her soul, just like that horrible night at Edward’s. She could never have made it through that evening without Jethro. A peace swept through her.
Then little footfalls turned her around. Her baby girl rode on her big girl’s hip. Both grinned; Susannah at her, and Francy at the man.
“Hey, Mister Jethro, when did you get back?”
“Just now. You interested in making a trip?”
“Yes, sir. Where are we going?”
Mary smiled. How could she not be excited? Jethro was saving her from shame and from having to leave San Francisco forever. No matter what her daddy did, she’d still get to see her family, and they’d get to see her babies.
