She is very dear to me, and I hope to be reunited with her.
Could Alice trust that her mother was being honest? Had she only written that in order to sound the part of the caring mother? But what purpose would that serve? These questions and a hundred just like them raced through Alice’s mind.
Marty thought she was being immature in her delay to write. She had chided Alice and even threatened to write to Mrs. Chesterfield herself, but Alice had made her promise she’d not interfere.
“This has to be my decision,” she had told Marty. “She’s my mother—not yours.”
Alice looked again at Marty. She felt a sense of security with the older woman. She was like the big sister Alice had never had. Marty had cared for her from the time of their first meeting. She hadn’t been concerned with the scar on Alice’s face or her lack of references when she’d showed up begging for the job of personal maid to Marty. Instead, Martha Wythe had offered Alice a home and employment.
More than that. She gave me an advocate—a protector—a friend.
Alice knew that no matter what, she would always have the deepest love and respect for Marty because of her willingness to extend grace and kindness to a scarred young woman with no other future.
And now here she was—in Texas. Alice couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once they reached Marty’s family. She didn’t know if she’d return to being Marty’s personal maid or if she’d be needed to work elsewhere, but either was acceptable. She felt blessed that the Wythes hadn’t just abandoned her in Denver.
“Did you get any sleep?” Marty asked.
Alice was surprised to find Marty watching her. “I slept off and on throughout the night. I can’t say that I’m truly rested, but I know it’s been much worse for you.”
Marty sighed and straightened in the hard leather-wrapped seat. “I’ll be glad to put this trip behind us and sleep in a real bed again.”
“Happy, too, to see your family and Jake?” Alice asked with a smile.
Marty nodded. “It’s been over a year since I saw my sister. Feels just as long since I saw Jake. I suppose because we parted on such poor terms, the time seems longer than it has been.”
“I know he’ll be happy to see you again. I’ve always envied the love he holds for you.”
Marty raised a brow. “We fight like cats and dogs despite that love. I wouldn’t be envying it if I were you.”
Alice glanced around the train car. There weren’t too many people sharing the space, but she lowered her voice just the same. “If I could know a love like yours, I would be the happiest woman in the world.”
Marty sighed. “I hope I still have Jake’s love.”
“You know you do. He wouldn’t have sent for you otherwise.”
“He sent for me because my sister probably made him do so.” Marty didn’t try to hide her smile. “My sister Hannah is . . . well . . . quite determined when it comes to having things her way.”
Alice giggled. “And you aren’t?”
A slight chuckle escaped Marty. “I suppose I might as well tell you—she and I, well we don’t always see eye to eye. In fact, most of the time we tend to be at odds. It’s all in good sport, though. We love each other dearly. Hannah has always been one of the most important people in my life. I suppose I’ve always wanted her approval, and so I challenge her.”
“How is challenging her going to get you her approval?” Alice asked, rather confused by this comment.
Marty shrugged and reached up to straighten her hat. “I suppose it’s a sort of game we play. I want Hannah to realize that I’m smart and self-sufficient. Hannah has always held the highest regard for strength and capability. She has no use for women who consider themselves to be too good to work—too refined to lend a hand. She calls them ‘fancy window dressings.’ Pretty enough to look at but without any other purpose.
“Maybe it’s because Hannah had to grow up so quickly. She was supposed to marry when I was born. But her fiancé died in the war, and our father demanded she care for me after our mother died giving birth to me. Our brother, Andy, was just a few years older, so Hannah became mother to us both. She needed strength for that, and she needed us to be strong, as well.”
“And was your father also demanding of you?” Alice asked, thinking back on her own father. George Chesterfield had always been a man of purpose, driven to accomplish, less than forgiving of error. She hadn’t really thought about the latter until now, but there were many examples that came to mind to prove such ideals.
“My father lost his will to live after losing Mama. Hannah said it started even before that. He was devastated when Hannah’s mama died. I think of Hannah as my sister, but she’s really my stepsister.” Marty paused and watched the dry landscape. “Papa also lost my older brother to the war. Hannah said the war took what little life was left in Papa, and after that he was more reserved. I remember only little bits of him,” Marty recalled. “I was sad when I learned he was dead, but I knew it would have been far worse if it had been Hannah who had died.”
Alice nodded. “Sometimes I wonder about my father. I know he was deeply injured when my mother left. I remember times when they would argue and he would call her names and make her cry. Usually I went to my room or outdoors and avoided the conflict. I knew no other way, of course. We didn’t have relatives or close friends to give me other examples of married life.”
She looked out the window. The sun was now bearing down in a crispness that only came with winter days. “Living with my friends after the attack showed me how different life could be. I never heard a mean-spirited word given or names called. Even so, I found it in my heart to make my father’s behavior acceptable. I suppose no one ever wants to think badly of their parent—especially when that parent was the only one remaining in their life. Now, knowing that my mother is alive, I have to confess I would like to hear her side of the story.”
“I think it would do you good to hear it,” Marty said. “At least then you can judge the matter for yourself.”
“I think it’s possible I’ve been a fool, Marty.” She frowned and twisted her gloved hands. “My father lied to me. He knew my mother was alive. He had her letters. Mrs. Ingram told me there had been a dozen or more that had been kept in his things. How could he lie to me like that?”
“Men do what they think they have to in order to get by. Your father obviously felt it was best to keep your mother from you. Whether that decision was made because he was selfish or trying to punish her, or even if it was because he knew your mother could cause you real harm, I’m sure he acted on the belief that he was doing good for you.”
“Good? How could he think it was good to lie?”
Marty shrugged. “Folks lie for a lot of reasons—I ought to know. But even when I’ve lied in the past, even when I knew what I was doing would end up causing me trouble in the long run, I always had the best of intentions.” She shook her head. “I could always rationalize my decisions.”
“I’m so afraid.” She sighed and met Marty’s gaze. “I’m afraid of what the truth will reveal.”
Marty gave her a knowing nod. The expression on her face was almost pained. “I know just how you feel.”
“So this was Marty’s place,” Jake stated more than questioned. He and Will had ridden over to the ranch after breakfast, and Jake couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.
“As far as I’m concerned,” Will said, “it still is Marty’s place. Oh, I told her I’d buy it back, but I didn’t actually do the paper work on it. I sent her some money to help out with her needs, but I figured she’d come back one day.” He eased back in the saddle a bit and rested his hands on the horn. “Texas is in Marty’s blood. She might as well have been born here. I can’t imagine she’ll truly be happy anyplace else.”
“She holds Texas a grudge. And it runs pretty deep.” Jake looked at the small ranch house. “She and her man build this?”
Will nodded. “We all did. It was a community effort—a wed
ding gift. Thomas added to the place a few years after they wed. He built the barn and pens, the outbuildings and such. He was a hardworkin’ man—like yourself.”
Jake could see the place was sadly neglected. The house needed a coat of paint, as did the barn. Some of the fencing sections had been allowed to give way, and weeds rose up in place of well-groomed flower beds and vegetable gardens.
“I figure you’ll want to take it back over. Marty may hold Texas a grudge, but she’s never been one to stay mad for long.” He grinned. “As I’m sure you know.”
“She endured a powerful hurt here,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want her to think she had to live here. Not if it makes her uncomfortable.”
“Why don’t you just plan to stay on with us for a time,” Will suggested. “At least until we’re able to mother-up the calves and get ’em branded. Once we have the cows paired with their babies, we can see exactly which belong where. Marty’s herd did well last year, and I expect this year will be the same. Last time I checked, most of the cows had delivered and the calves all seemed healthy.
“Anyway, you and Marty can live at our place for the time bein’. Miss Chesterfield, too. The house is more than big enough for all of us. That’ll give Marty a chance to ease back in, and I’ll have you to help me with roundup.”
Jake met the older man’s intense gaze. “Thank you, Will. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, for us. I don’t take any of this lightly. I want to do a good job—to be a good husband to Marty. I know she’s worried I’ll get myself killed like her other husband, but I don’t intend that to happen.”
Will chuckled. “Can’t say anyone ever intends it to happen, son. However, troubles will come. We’ve seen it over the years, as I’m sure your family did. Death is a part of life that we have to accept. No sense in frettin’ and fearin’ it if a fellow knows what lies beyond this world.”
“I agree,” Jake replied. “I have to say I haven’t always lived a life that I’m proud of, but God did get a hold of me and put me back in line.”
“You wear His brand,” Will said, nodding in approval. “That’s clear enough to see. I watched you studying the Bible the other morning, and I’ve seen you at prayer. We all made mistakes in the past—me included. Or maybe I should say, me especially. God had His hands full with my sorry spirit. But thankfully, He didn’t let me go.”
“Yeah, I feel the same way. Don’t know where I’d be if He had.” Jake looked back at the ranch one more time and then turned his horse toward the road they’d come up earlier. “But I know I wouldn’t have Marty, and if that were the case, my life wouldn’t be worth livin’ anyway.”
Chapter 12
Robert waited by the buggy while his mother finished saying her good-byes to Carissa Atherton and Jessica. He had agreed to drive Mother over that Sunday afternoon because she’d been worried when the family hadn’t shown up for church that morning.
“I hope that you’ll let us know if you need anything,” Robert’s mother told Mrs. Atherton.
“Oh, we’re just fine. Tyler’s been sicker than this before. I think it’s a bad chest cold, but I told him if it worsens he’s going to the doctor.”
Mother nodded. “This is a bad time of year for it. Just make sure you don’t let old Doc Sutton give him calomel. I know the old man is fond of it as a cure-all, but I’ve read some disheartening things that suggest it’s not as good a cure as was once thought.”
Mrs. Atherton smiled. “ ‘The doctor comes with free goodwill, but ne’er forgets his calomel.’ ” She chuckled. “I remember hearing that when I was growing up. Never liked the stuff.”
“Dr. Sutton is nearly eighty, and his notions are so outdated. I heard it said that he still bleeds people on occasion.”
“I remember him telling me that I’d miscarried a baby because of the gravitational pull of the earth or the moon or some such nonsense.”
Mother nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard others say the same. Frankly, we need to encourage him to retire and get a younger doctor to take over his practice. I know there are plenty of good doctors closer to Dallas, but we need someone who would be willing to come farther out.”
“Well, Tyler won’t be getting calomel from me. I can promise you that,” Mrs. Atherton said.
“I think it does little good and a lot of harm.”
Robert knew his mother had been something of a local healer for years, and people often sought her advice before going elsewhere. He wasn’t at all surprised when she told Jessica’s mother that she would be happy to help in the matter.
“I have remedies that I know will suit better than that,” Mother told the ladies. “Just let me know if you need something.”
“I will.” Mrs. Atherton’s expression suddenly changed. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have that lard I promised you.” She turned to Jessica. “Take Robert to the springhouse and show him where that lard is. It’s near to fifty pounds,” she said rather apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind. I put it in one tub.”
Robert pushed off the side of the carriage. “It’s not a problem.”
Jessica turned up her nose. “I find it appalling. Smelly stuff.” She led the way to the springhouse but turned and stopped when they were out of sight. “Still, it gives us a few minutes to be alone.” She smiled and let her shawl fall away. “Do you like my new gown? I had it made in Dallas. Isn’t it just about the most beautiful color you’ve ever seen? They called it Samson and it came all the way from London.”
“Looks like green to me,” Robert replied with a shrug. “Nice enough. You always fill out a dress real well.”
She looked at him and frowned. “You are such a . . . a . . . cowboy.”
He laughed. “Well, I reckon I should be insulted, but I’m not. Years of ranching have made that the case. But I still know that green is green, and Samson’s a fellow in the Bible.”
Jessica stamped her foot. “You can be such a bubbleheaded philistine.”
Robert shrugged thoughtfully. “Samson had a bad time of it with the Philistines. Guess it fits that you are, too.”
She shook her finger at him. “You know very well that I am only trying to bring a little beauty and culture into your life and into the world around me. Goodness, but you’d think we were at the beginning of the 1800s instead of approaching the end. The 1900s are soon to be here and with it a new modern world.”
Sobering, Robert looked at the young woman. So many people expected the couple to marry, yet Robert knew they had little in common.
“Jess, you can have your new modern world. Just leave me Texas.”
“But once we’re married,” she said, giving him a knowing nod, “you’ll change your tune. I intend for us to live abroad for a least part of our lives.”
“Abroad? And what would I do abroad? I’m a Texas cattleman.” Robert shook his head. “Sometimes I don’t think you know anything about me at all.”
She came and took hold of his arm and tucked it close to her side. “Now, Robert, don’t be such a bore. Of course I know you. I know all about you, and that’s why I want to show you what you’re missing.”
“But that’s just it, Jess. I don’t feel like I’m missin’ a thing.”
She pulled back just a bit. “But you’ve never been out of Texas. I have. I’ve traveled with my grandparents, and there’s so much more to the world than just Texas.”
Robert liked the way the sun glinted on her honey-brown hair. She was a striking woman, to be sure, but he wasn’t in love with her.
They resumed their walk toward the springhouse. Robert ignored the annoyance in Jessica’s tone as she continued to belabor her point. She told him about the glorious big cities she’d visited and all the wonders she had yet to see.
“I know you’ll love seeing the world once you’re actually doing it,” she said, stopping at the door to the springhouse. “You just need to trust me on this.”
“Maybe you just need to hear what I’m sayin’.” Robert pulled his arm away. “I
don’t intend to travel abroad or anywhere else, for that matter. I’m happy here, Jess. I love the land and the animals. I love what I do. This is my life.”
“But it’s not what I want,” Jessica said.
“Which is why we aren’t married,” Robert countered.
She frowned at this and began to pout as she pushed back the door. “You’re such a mean person sometimes.”
“It’s not meanness, Jess. It’s the truth. I think we’ve been going two different directions for a long time. I know folks figure we ought to marry each other, but honestly, we don’t see eye to eye on much at all.”
“You’re just scared.”
“I’m not scared. I’m tryin’ to be honest with you. I don’t want anyone sayin’ I duped you. I don’t plan to live in a grand house and wear fancy duds. I don’t plan to travel or buy priceless bits of junk to put in my house. I just wanna run my ranch and raise a family.”
“Well, you’ll need a wife to raise a family, and in order to get one, you’re going to have to learn to compromise. My mother says that marriage is one big compromise.”
“So where does that figure in for you compromising on all these big schemes?” Robert asked.
She looked as if his question confused her. “I’ll have children.”
“And that’s a compromise?” Her comment left him feeling even sadder than when they’d started this conversation.
“Well, children require a great deal of care and attention. It’s difficult to travel with them and harder still to have nice things. The compromise will be that I will bear children and endure the consequences.”
“Maybe we could just have a houseful of servants to watch over them while we make our way around the world,” he replied in a sarcastic tone.
Moment in Time, A (Lone Star Brides Book #2) Page 11
