Lone Star Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  Robert walked to the doorway and whispered, “Peter’s been sleeping like a bear. Your grandfather woke about an hour and a half ago. He knew where he was. He’s able to move his leg and wiggle his toes—both excellent signs. I expect him to make a full recovery.”

  “I’ll watch over them. You should go.”

  “I’ve no doubt you’d hover like a guardian angel if you had the chance, but ’tisn’t necessary. I’m stuck here. I’ve no horse, and even if I did, I couldn’t find my way back to town since I just arrived today. After I change the dressing on his leg in the morning, I’ll leave.”

  She pulled the shawl more closely about her shoulders.

  “You’ve yet to slumber, and you need your rest. I’ve powders in my bag that will help you fall asleep.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Robert grudgingly admitted to himself that Mercy shared a trait of his own—she knew her mind and stuck to her plans. Often, that perseverance paid off, but in this case, her stubbornness resulted in needless suffering. He decided it wasn’t worth arguing with her. If anything, she needed to feel she’d regained control—however simple or slight it might be.

  “Forgive me, Miss Stein. You’re barefoot and likely catching a chill whilst I natter away the night. I’ll go back to my coffee. If you’d like, I can pour you a cup.”

  “I’ll retire.” Though she stated her plan, she made no move to carry it out.

  Robert turned and went back to the table. So that was the way of it. She’d refused to brush past him to leave the room. He couldn’t fault her for being skittish; she had just cause to be wary—extremely wary. He’d have to earn her trust, and from this encounter, he reckoned it would take a good long while.

  Mercy woke and promised herself it was just a bad dream, but that false hope disappeared the minute she rolled out of bed and hurt all over. Deep purple-black ringed her left eye, and she turned away from the mirror as she pinned her braid into a bun.

  The door to Grossvater’s room stood open. A quick peek reassured her that he and Peter still slept soundly. Usually, Grossvater would be stirring, if not up by now. Knowing how he’d chafe at being kept in bed, Mercy hoped he’d sleep late.

  She tiptoed past the doctor, too. He’d fallen asleep with his head resting on his folded arms at the dining table. The settee in the parlor was far too short for a man of his height to stretch out on. Just seeing him made her balk. She’d need to speak to him before Grossvater woke up. Would he honor her request to keep what happened from Grossvater?

  Otto. Surely Otto wouldn’t tell anyone. He’d shelter her from the humiliation of others knowing the full truth of what had happened. He’d responded to her screams and come—too late to stop the worst—but Otto knew what happened and killed that awful man. I’m glad he’s dead. Glad. He can’t come back to hurt me again.

  Steeling herself, she stepped into the barn. Bile rose, and she swallowed it. Just off to her right was where that man died at Otto’s hand. Another few steps and she was near the place where he’d held the knife to her sweet little brother’s neck, then struck him in the head. Her legs shook so badly, she could hardly walk deeper into the barn. Over there, in that straw, he’d …

  She stumbled and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Evalina’s lowing jarred her back to what she needed to do. I can go on. I can. I’ll do my chores and make it through the morning. Then I’ll make it through the afternoon.

  Mercy rested her cheek against Evalina’s warm side and listened to the shhh-shhh-shhh as the bucket filled with the rhythmic motions of her hands. The smell of milk, hay, and cow were so common. After promising herself that staying busy with tasks would keep her from remembering, Mercy discovered she’d been lying to herself.

  How could life ever be ordinary again? Swollen as her left eye had become, she could see only a narrow strip out of it. The cuffs on her sleeves rubbed against the tender bruises on her wrists.

  Shame and embarrassment kept her from accepting care from the new doctor. He’d tried to be helpful, but Mercy wanted to forget what happened. The aches in her body, heart, and soul wouldn’t let her forget, though. The doctor said he’d leave this morning. She hoped he’d keep his word—in fact, that he’d sneak in, check on Grossvater’s leg, and be gone by the time she got back to the house. She didn’t want to face him—or anyone—today.

  Pouring the milk into the separator strained her wrists. Everything she’d done this morning—combing her hair, washing her face, milking the cow—all of the simple pleasures of life had been tainted by painful reminders. Mercy felt a bolt of hatred. She’d never hated before, but she knew exactly what the emotion was. I’m glad Otto killed him. The thought went through her mind again. Even hell is too good for a wicked man like that.

  A roar of pain echoed from the house.

  Chapter 4

  Mercy tossed aside the milk pail and ran for the house. She tore through the door and ran full tilt into Grossvater’s bedroom, only to bump smack into a broad back. She shoved the doctor aside and stopped cold. The sheriff stood by the bedside, and anguish contorted Grossvater’s dear face. She’d seen that look only once before—when Grossmuter died.

  Grossvater turned his head and looked at her. Tears filled his eyes.

  “What have you done?” she cried to the sheriff.

  Hands curled around her shoulders from behind. She immediately struggled to free herself.

  “Shh, lass.”

  “You told! You didn’t have to tell him.” Tears she couldn’t hold back broke forth as her knees gave out. Strong hands gently tightened about her—not in binding restraint, but in comfort. The doctor kept her from collapsing.

  “There’ll be time to talk later,” the deep baritone said from over her shoulder.

  Mercy buried her face in her hands as the doctor turned her and led her from the room. He took her to the kitchen, leaned against the cupboard, and held her as she fell apart. “Why?” She finally looked up at him. “Why didn’t you protect him? You could have spared him.”

  “Connant told him, Mercy.” Slowly, he wiped tears from her cheeks.

  “He had no business, no right—”

  His blue eyes were somber and his face grim. “Peter was already awake. I sent him over to the neighboring farm with a request to borrow some honey. Your grandfather woke, and his first words were about the two of you.”

  “You didn’t have to—”

  “One look at your face, and he would have known, Mercy. No man could mistake the truth.”

  She closed her eyes and bowed her head. So everyone who ever looks at me again will know? Lord, how will I ever endure such shame?

  He clasped her to his chest and held her there. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear. Quietly he said, “I’m sure Connant wanted to spare you from having to tell him, Mercy. You’re worried about protecting your grandfather; Connant was trying to make this easier on you.”

  She pushed away. “Easier? Easier! Nothing about this is easy. It is awful. It is evil.”

  “You’re right. What happened was evil.”

  Sheriff Gilchrist’s boots shuffled on the plank floor. He cleared his throat. “Mercy? Your grandfather wants you.”

  Mercy started to cross the floor, then paused. She didn’t look at the sheriff or the doctor. Clutching her hands together, she murmured, “You men should go now. There is nothing for you to do here.” Her voice caught, then she added, “Too much has already been said and done.”

  As she entered Grossvater’s bedroom, she heard the screen door shut. If only I could run over, slam the door, and lock out the world.

  “Mercy,” Grossvater said from the bed. He’d wiggled his way up until he sat propped against the headboard. His face was ashen, his eyes haunted. It broke her heart when he silently stretched his arms wide to take her to his breast.

  She wanted to fly across the room as she had when she was a small girl and lost her parents. He’d held her tight and provided a secure, l
oving life. Grossvater and Grossmuter did everything they could to fix her broken world. Grossvater couldn’t fix this, though. She was a woman now, and she’d have to live with this tragedy. Mercy tried hard to control her tumultuous feelings as she walked toward him with measured steps. “How are you feeling? How is your head? Your leg?”

  “I’ll heal. But you, sweetheart—”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and carefully leaned against him. His arms enfolded her. “Don’t say anything, Grossvater. Please, don’t.”

  He bowed his head and kissed her hair.

  Mercy stopped abruptly at the sight of the full egg basket by the chicken coop. Who’s been here? Chills raced up her arms. Evalina lowed over in the pasture. I left her in the barn!

  Mouth dry and heart pounding, Mercy started to back toward the house. It can’t be that man again. Otto killed him. Otto—he probably came over to help. That’s it. She let out a shaky breath. Sturdy, reliable, devoted Otto. He still loves me!

  The grating sound of a shovel indicated someone was in the barn, mucking out the stable. Yes, Otto would have thought of the animals’ welfare. The knot between her shoulders lessened, and she called out, “Otto?”

  Footsteps sounded in the barn.

  She tried to smile, but doing so pulled the skin. That tightness, teamed with the way she could only see a slice of anything from her left eye, registered. He’ll see my face. I shouldn’t have called to him. Mercy spun toward the side.

  “Whoa!”

  A scream ripped from her chest.

  “I wasn’t meaning to alarm you, lass.” The doctor’s hands hovered beside her arms, but he didn’t make any contact.

  Shuffling backward, Mercy called out, “Otto!”

  “Rob?” A man stood in the barn’s doorway.

  It’s not Otto. He hasn’t come ever since—

  “I startled Miss Stein, Chris. ’Tis all.” The doctor looked at her. “I came by to check on your grandda.”

  Mercy made no reply. She led him to the house and stood by while he changed her grandfather’s dressing. As he tied it into place, he said, “Mr. Stein, whilst you’re recovering, you’ll need a strong back and an extra pair of hands about the place. I’ve brothers—either Christopher or Duncan will ride out each morning to help.”

  “I could use the help, but I need to be up.”

  The doctor nodded. “That you do. Your muscles will weaken if left unused. My brother Duncan made you a walking stick. I’ll allow you to use it ’round the house, but ’tis all. No taking the steps off the porch for another few days, else you’ll suffer a terrible setback.”

  After Grossvater was up in a chair in the parlor, the doctor left. Mercy fussed around in the house all day. Though her hands stayed busy, her mind spiraled into a near panic. Four endless days had passed, but Otto hadn’t yet come over. She took bread from the oven and searched for something—anything else to do.

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the veranda, then someone knocked. “I’ll get it,” Grossvater said.

  Though she didn’t know that he ought to be moving around much, Mercy allowed Grossvater to answer the door. She didn’t want anyone to see her.

  “Come, Mercy.” For the first time since it happened, Grossvater sounded like his old self.

  Mercy wiped her hands on the hem of her apron and went to him. As long as she kept her face turned, no one would have to see—

  “Otto’s here.” Grossvater’s words stunned her. Otto never knocked. Fully assured of his welcome, he always barged in.

  “I killed a man.” Anguish permeated Otto’s stark words. Emotion contorted his features. “With my own hands, I killed him.”

  “You did.” Mercy didn’t move an inch. Look at me. No, don’t. But at least draw me into the shelter of your arms.

  “It was a bad thing.” Otto’s voice was nothing more than a ragged whisper.

  Mercy couldn’t hold back a strangled sound. The man she loved was trying to reassure her and chose his words so as not to shame her. The doubts and worries the past days fostered gave way to relief. She stepped forward, finally free to lean into Otto’s consolation. Her arms barely started to close around him; her bruised cheek scarcely grazed the fabric of his shirt when he jerked away from her.

  Mercy’s head snapped back. “Ot—”

  “I killed a man!” He stared at her. This wasn’t the Otto she knew. His eyes weren’t sparkling with laughter or lit with gentle love.

  Her arms dropped woodenly to her sides.

  Grossvater hobbled closer and managed to keep his balance while still wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You did your best, Otto. You tried to protect those you love.”

  Leather creaked loudly in the awkward silence as Otto shifted from one boot to the other.

  “With God’s help, we will get beyond this,” Grossvater said.

  I don’t know that I’ll ever get beyond it.

  Otto cleared his throat. “The wedding.”

  Not our wedding? The wedding? Mercy started to tremble anew.

  “It’s thoughtful of you, Otto, to give my granddaughter a little time.”

  In that moment, Mercy knew the truth. Otto’s expression told her more than words could. The brutal truth hit her. “There will be no wedding.”

  “Mercy—“ Grossvater began.

  The dainty ring burned as she twisted it off her finger. “I no longer hold you to your promise.”

  Although Otto didn’t reach for it, he didn’t make an attempt to try to reassure her that their love could weather this catastrophe.

  Tightening his hold on her, Grossvater growled, “There’s no reason to be hasty—”

  “I do not blame her,” Otto said thickly. “I cannot live with myself, knowing I have killed a man.”

  “There’s nothing wrong,” Grossvater said, “with a man protecting those he loves.”

  Mercy trembled—unsure of what to do. Can it be that Otto needs my love and acceptance now, more than ever, just as I need his?

  Otto looked at her. Never once had she seen him cry, but tears traced down his sunburned cheeks. “It was not about protection. He’d already done his worst. I sought vengeance.” His hands came up and formed an ever-tightening circle. “I took a man’s life. How am I to know God would not have redeemed him someday? All that was right and pure between us—what he did couldn’t ruin that. What I did—that defiled everything.”

  Grossvater took the ring from her nerveless fingers and passed it to Otto.

  “Excuse me.” Robert pushed through a gaggle of women at the mercantile and frowned. “Stand back. ’Tis too close in here.” If it weren’t for the cracker barrel behind Mercy and Carmen Rodriguez propping her up, the lass would be flat out on the plank floor.

  His inclination was to scoop her up, but Robert quelled that at once. Mercy spooked too easily. If she roused much, she’d likely fall apart as he carried her to his office. He knelt beside her and hoped she couldn’t hear the suppositions the busy-bodies behind him whispered. When the community heard of Otto killing a man, Otto’s mother sought to defend her son—but at Mercy’s expense. As if the poor lass hadn’t suffered enough, she’d been denied the ability to keep what had happened private.

  Miss Rodriguez used her hankie to blot Mercy’s brow. “If you help her over to my house, I can see to her. It’s probably just … constriction.”

  Robert slid one hand behind Mercy’s neck and unfastened the uppermost button on her high-collared shirtwaist. Taking her pulse necessitated unfastening the mother-of-pearl buttons on her cuff. Mercy’s lids began to flutter, and he announced, “With that stove roaring, ’tis hotter than Lucifer’s laundry pot in here. Miss Stein? Ah, there we are.” He tilted her wan face toward his. “The heat’s claimed you. Miss Rodriguez here is going to accompany us back to my office.”

  “I—I just need a moment.” Mercy’s words sounded every bit as faint as she looked.

  “I agree.” He nodded. “A short rest and a nice dipper of water will go a lo
ng way toward helping you.”

  Miss Rodriguez patted her. “I’ll stay right beside you. The nice doctor is going to help you up now.” She drew closer and whispered, “Mercy, he’s strong. He can carry you.”

  The very last vestige of color bled from Mercy’s face.

  “She’ll lean on me. We all understand the necessity.” Robert pulled Mercy to her feet and wound his arm around her slender waist.

  Back in his office, Robert managed to get Mercy alone in the examination room. She promptly declared, “Truly, I’ve recovered. It was just the heat.”

  “I’m not so sure of that.”

  Primly buttoning her cuff, she said, “If it’s not the heat, then it must be something I ate.”

  Robert pressed a glass of water into her hands in order to keep her seated on his examination table. He asked several questions, purposefully posing them in a rambling fashion so she wouldn’t have a sense of what he needed to ascertain.

  “This is unnecessary. It was simply the heat. Just as you said at the mercantile, all I needed was water and a short rest. I’m better.” She looked ready to make a dash for freedom.

  Sick to the depths of his soul, Robert rested his hand on her forearm. “No, you’re not. Miss Stein, you’re with child.”

  Chapter 5

  Cold dread washed over her. For weeks now, she’d lived in terror of this possibility. Night and day, she’d begged God to spare her this. The last two weeks, her anxiety had mushroomed. Still, she didn’t want to believe it could be so. “I truly must go.” Mercy twisted to the side and slid off the table.

  “Miss Stein—”

  She shook off the doctor’s hand. “Grossvater needs me.” Desperate to get away, she opened the door out into his waiting room.

  Carmen Rodriguez hopped to her feet. “Are you feeling better now? You’ve never swooned before.”

  “Then I suppose it was my turn. I really must get home.”

  “I’m due to pay a call on your grandda.” Dr. Gregor picked up his black leather satchel. “I’ll accompany you.”