by Linda Ford
Her words made him feel as if he mattered. It was nice to be valued by someone for a reason other than the star on his chest.
He clamped his teeth together. Was he forgetting all those lessons of how worthless he was—to his mother, to Agnes, to half a dozen other young women who had wandered in and out of his life? But he sensed her need for reassurance and could not deny it. “Emily, you can count on me to see you through this.”
She tipped her head back. Her gaze held his. He felt her search deep into his soul. She smiled. “I know, and I thank you.”
His breath eased out. How could she have such ready trust in him? She didn’t know who he was, apart from the sheriff.
Be cautious, he warned himself.
Could he trust her? He knew his answer should be no. But like Annie said, Emily without a memory was likely the real Emily, and he found her sweet and pure.
He must do all he could to find out who she was.
“I hate to leave you, but I need to send some letters to inquire where you got on the stage and perhaps learn who Aunt Hilda, Abigail and John are.” It was too late to send messages back along the line today, but he could get letters ready and start asking questions.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll sit and rest while Mikey plays.” She returned to the bench and appeared to be relaxed.
“I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of business.” The best thing he could do for Emily at the moment was help her get Mikey to his adoptive parents. This Abigail and John would be waiting for their child. More than that, they would know who Aunt Hilda was and where Emily had come from. Once he knew that, he would be able to find Emily’s family.
“No need to rush on my account.” She smiled.
He really needed to leave, but he hesitated to do so. It took a great deal of effort to force his steps to the house. “Gram, I have to go. Keep an eye on that pair, would you?”
She chuckled. “Do you really need to ask?”
“Thanks.” He left via the front door.
Jesse strode down Mineral Street, checking on each store. He completed his circuit then went to Marshall’s Mercantile. His jaw muscles hurt and he realized he’d chomped down on his teeth way too hard and forced himself to relax. Someone had threatened his town. Whoever was responsible for the robbery and murder, for bringing harm to a young woman and little boy, would be found and captured. Jesse Hill would see to it.
He entered the store and let his eyes adjust to the interior dimness. He circled the inside of the store as George waited on a customer. The displays were familiar to Jesse, so he took little notice of the goods, though he paused to look at the women’s wear and wondered if something in the array would spark Emily’s memory.
The customer left with his arms full. George turned to Jesse. George Marshall saw almost everyone in the area or passing through because they soon learned his store was well stocked and could supply their needs.
“Howdy, Jesse. Find those robbers yet?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid.” He explained Mikey and Emily at the house and Emily’s loss of memory, though George had by now likely heard a dozen different versions of the details concerning the pair Jesse brought in.
“Could she at least give a description of the men responsible?”
“Pretty sketchy one. They covered their faces, so she is unable to describe what they look like.”
“Didn’t find anything at the site to tell you who they are?”
“One of the horses had an odd-shaped horseshoe that will help identify the robbers. The rain made it impossible to follow their tracks.” He leaned on the counter. “Any strangers around recently? Someone who might have been checking out the stagecoach schedule? Or someone waiting for an arrival?”
“There was a stranger in town today buying supplies. Said he was joining his partner at Wolf Hollow.”
“Sounds innocent enough. Did you happen to notice anything odd about his boots?”
George laughed. “Don’t often have cause to notice a man’s feet. Why?”
“Emily said the one thing she saw was that one of the robbers had silver-tipped boots.”
“Well, I’ll sure be keeping my eye open for that and will let you know.”
“Have you heard of a couple by the name of Abigail and John?”
“What’s their last name?”
“’Fraid I don’t know.” Jesse told about the letter.
George stroked his chin. “There was an Abigail and John Newman who lived north of Wolf Hollow. They came in once or twice. I remember because she would always go to the selection of baby items and look so longingly at them that I wondered if she had lost a baby.”
“I’ll plan on heading out to Wolf Hollow tomorrow and look around.” It was the perfect place for riffraff to hide. He had two things to look for—a horse with an odd-shaped shoe and a man with silver-tipped boots. And a third—a couple by the name of Newman.
George chuckled. “How do you plan to find an Aunt Hilda?”
“Now, that is going to be more difficult, I think. An aunt who sends a boy for adoption.” That fact alone gave him a few clues. “She could work in an orphanage or be a preacher’s wife who helps orphans find homes.”
“Or a lawyer’s wife. Or she could simply be acting as agent for her niece or nephew and their spouse.”
“I simply don’t have enough information to go on. All I can do is send letters down the line to the various sheriffs with the few facts I have and hope someone, somewhere can connect the dots.” He said goodbye to George and stepped into the street.
He went to his office and penned half a dozen letters, all saying the same thing, then took the sealed envelopes to George to send out on the next stagecoach.
There was nothing more he could do until morning.
Nothing more to prevent him from returning to the house to see if Emily had remembered anything.
*
Mrs. Whitley called from the back door. “Supper is ready. Come and get it while it’s hot.”
Emily jerked around. What had she been thinking, to waste time sitting on the garden bench when she should be helping? She rushed to the woman, her haste bringing on a bout of dizziness. She paused and sucked in air. “Forgive me for not helping you more.”
Mrs. Whitley chuckled. “It seems to me you need to remember that you have been in a serious accident and need to be resting.”
“But I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”
“You need to be gentle with yourself.” The older woman studied her with kindly eyes. “Too often young people like you are hard on themselves. If only I could make every one of you see that you need to slow down and enjoy the present.”
Emily laughed softly. “I think I have no choice but to do so at the moment, seeing as I have no past and no future.”
Jesse came in from the other room. She hadn’t heard him return. He squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever your past, your present and your future, it is safe in God’s hands.”
Mrs. Whitley patted Emily’s arm. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” She whistled for the dog. Mikey laughed as he trotted after the animal.
“Did you find out anything?” Emily asked Jesse.
“George Marshall says there’s a couple by the name of Abigail and John Newman north of Wolf Hollow. I’ll go out tomorrow and see if I can locate them.”
Her heart clung to her ribs. “I’ll come along, if I may. If it’s them, then—” She glanced toward Mikey. He would be joining his new parents.
And what would become of her? Would she stay, as the Hilda who wrote the letter suggested? Or would they prefer she leave them to adjust on their own?
She didn’t know what to expect and tears threatened. She would not cry and she forced her attention to the table covered with a red-and-green checkered tablecloth and set with four places of white china. Emily studied the table. Was there something familiar about it? Or was she only hoping for a reminder of any sort? A clear vase held a bouquet of flowers,
among them sweet peas, their aroma subtly filling the air.
Jesse pointed her toward a basin of hot water and she helped Mikey wash up, and then washed and dried her own hands and face. A small mirror above the cupboard revealed how disheveled her hair was. She smoothed it back with her hands. Bits of dirt and grass fell to her shoulders.
“I am truly a mess.” She would like nothing better than a bath. Mikey needed one, also. But she couldn’t ask her hosts to go to the trouble of filling a tub for her. Perhaps she could do it herself. The pain in the side of her head reminded her she wouldn’t be able to. She’d have to be content to be safe in a kind home.
She returned to the table and sat on the chair Mrs. Whitley indicated. Mikey sat at her left. Jesse dropped into the chair across from her, and his grandmother sat at the head of the table to Emily’s right.
“Jesse, would you ask the blessing?” his grandmother said.
Jesse bowed his head. “Dear heavenly Father, we are grateful for so many things. For the lives of Emily and Mikey spared in the accident.” His voice deepened.
Emily stole a glance from under her eyelids, amazed to see the man’s throat work as if his emotions had grown too strong to bear. Did it really matter that much to him? Why would it, other than he was a kind and caring man?
She closed her eyes as he continued. “Help Emily’s memory to return. Help me find the men and bring them to justice. Thank you for the sunshine and the rain, for the good times and the bad times, and for the bounty we are about to enjoy. Amen.”
“Amen,” Mrs. Whitley echoed.
Emily kept her head lowered a moment longer. For good times and bad times? Could she thank God for both? This would surely qualify as a bad time. She wasn’t about to rejoice about losing her memory. But she would trust God to bring it back. For that she would be glad.
She took the bowl of mashed potatoes Mrs. Whitley passed, served herself and helped Mikey. Stewed meat in rich gravy, baby carrots fresh from the garden and sweet lettuce, also from the garden, followed. She enjoyed a taste of each.
“Mrs. Whitley, this is excellent. Thank you.”
“It’s ordinary fare. But thank you and please, would you call me Gram? I think it would be so much easier for you.”
“Thank you, Gram.”
“The young man, as well.” She reached for Mikey’s hand. “Would you like to call me Gram?”
His eyes widened. “My Gram?”
“Yes, I can be your gram if you like.”
“’Kay.” He gave a heartwarming smile then returned to enjoying his meal.
As they ate, both Gram and Jesse told her more about the town and the area. She suspected they hoped something they said would help her remember, but nothing came to her.
As soon as they finished, Gram brought them each a bowl of fresh raspberries with cream so thick they had to spoon it out of the bowl. Again, the raspberries made her remember a time of laughter and joy and an older woman. She closed her eyes and tried to get a clearer picture of the person she knew to be her grandmother. All that came was a merry laugh and a big red apron with generous pockets.
She opened her eyes to find Jesse and Gram watching her. Jesse’s eyes asked a silent question and she shook her head. “I hear laughter, but that is all.”
He held her gaze, his eyes full of encouragement. “It’s nice to know your first memories are of happy times in your life. I hope the rest of your memories are as happy and sweet when they come.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back a protest. When she could speak without giving away her fear, she said, “Seems too much to think I wouldn’t have my share of good and bad.”
“Every life needs both sunshine and rain. Just like my flowers out there,” Gram said.
“Described that way, I will try and be happy about both.” At the moment, she’d be glad to simply get her memory back.
But despite having said that, a shiver crossed her shoulders. There were times, she knew, that the bad could be so awful it was more like a destructive hailstorm than a nourishing rain.
Jesse must have read her thoughts, because he leaned forward. “Emily.”
She turned to him, immediately finding strength in his steady brown eyes.
“‘I will trust and not fear.’”
She nodded. “I have to keep reminding myself.”
“I’ll remind you as often as I think you need it.”
“Me, too,” Gram said.
“Mem, mem, mem, mem,” Mikey added and the adults all laughed.
When the meal was over, Jesse got to his feet. “I hate to leave you.” He spoke directly to Emily. “But I must make my rounds of the town. People need to know I am doing that part of my job.”
She rose, as well. “Of course. There is no need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
His smile was gentle. “I’ll be back shortly, unless there is trouble, which I don’t expect.”
She listened to his departing footsteps and the closing of the door then pulled her thoughts back to the kitchen. After all, she didn’t need his presence to feel safe.
Except she did. He had become her lifeline.
She dismissed the idea. At the moment she had no past and no future, but she had the present and she would face it without fear.
“I’ll help with dishes.”
Gram looked ready to refuse then nodded. “I expect it’s easier if you keep busy. You can wash. That way you won’t have to move around too much.”
As Emily scrubbed the dishes, she tried to think how she could manage a bath for Mikey and herself without asking for another favor from these kind people. But the dishes were done, the floor swept and the kitchen clean, and still she could think of no way.
Mikey had been playing with the toys, Muffin at his side. He rubbed his eyes and whined.
“He’s getting tired,” Emily said. “I need to get him ready for bed.”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“Would you mind if I heated enough water to give him a little bath?”
The door opened and closed, and Jesse entered in time to hear her request. “You will do no such thing. Sit down and amuse the little guy while I take care of the water.”
She opened her mouth to protest then sat. Fatigue had set in. “I take it the town was quiet.”
“Quiet as church. Good thing, too. Or you would be trying to deal with kettles of hot water.”
Gram snorted. “Do you really think I would have allowed that?”
Jesse seemed to remember his grandmother was in the room and chuckled. “I don’t suppose you would, but now I’m here and I’ll take care of it.” He gave Emily a stern look. “All of it.”
She didn’t know what he meant, but she was too weary to care.
“I’d like to spend a bit more time in my sewing room, so I’ll leave you two to manage.” Gram left the kitchen and soon could be heard singing softly in the other room.
Jesse put water on to heat then went outside and returned with a square washtub. He soon had several inches of warm water in it.
Emily lifted Mikey to her lap, kissed the top of his head and removed his dirty clothes.
With a giggle, he escaped her arms and ran across the room.
Emily was about to chase him when Jesse crossed the room in long strides and scooped the little boy into his arms.
“You little rascal. You come back here.” He tickled Mikey.
Jolly, belly-rolling chuckles indicated the boy’s enjoyment.
Emily laughed too. “He has the best laugh.”
Jesse grinned at her. “Just hearing it makes the world a better place.” He headed for the tub and Emily hurried to join him.
She fully intended to take care of washing Mikey, but Jesse knelt by the tub, too. Their arms brushed.
He looked at her, something warm and sweet in his eyes.
She jerked her gaze to the little boy. She understood what was going on. Lost, without memory, she clung to the man who had saved
her. He made her feel safe. But it meant nothing.
Jesse grabbed the bar of soap while Emily sorted out her thoughts. He lathered up the boy and rinsed him off. All the while, Mikey chattered away and splashed.
Emily wiped water from her face and stole a look at Jesse. Liquid dripped from his chin. The front of his shirt was dark with water. He turned his head to wipe his face on his shoulder and looked straight into her eyes. He grinned. “Happy child. Wet adults. Is this the usual mix?”
“I think so.” She held his gaze and caught her breath. Her answer had come swiftly and surely, as if she was speaking from experience. But no memory came. “I’ll wash his hair.” She bent Mikey backward and scrubbed the dirt from his head.
“You certainly know how to handle him.”
She lifted him from the tub and wrapped a towel about him. “I suppose it indicates something. I just wish I knew what.” She stared at the tub of water and remembered laughter and joy. She had bathed a child in a tub like this.
She sat back on her heels. “I remember bathing children.” Her eyes refused to blink as she looked at Jesse. Was it possible Mikey was hers? A sob caught in her throat. How could she forget her own flesh and blood? Not to mention a husband. She looked at her ring finger. Bare. She rubbed it. Could not remember ever wearing a ring. Perhaps she’d never married. That made Mikey…
Pain tore through her insides. Who was she?
Jesse caught her around her shoulders. She leaned into his damp shirtfront.
“You’re tired and overthinking all this. I think a good night’s sleep might be what you need.”
Mikey patted her cheeks. “Mem, mem, mem.”
She realized they were nose to nose, both leaning on Jesse’s chest. At some point, he had taken Mikey from her and she hadn’t even noticed. The realization made the dark hole inside her expand and she shuddered.
Jesse tightened his arm about her and sat her up. “I’ll dress this little man then help you.”
She wasn’t sure what sort of help he meant to offer, but as he put Mikey into a nightshirt, she scrubbed the little boy’s garments in the bath water and rinsed them. She was about to take them outside and hang them on the line when Jesse took them from her. “You take it easy while I do this.”
