HE WAS FREE! HE HADN’T KILLED ANYBODY AFTER ALL!
The air rushed out of him as he grabbed Amber in a fierce hug. “Jesus, honey, I—this means we can get married, and I’ll see our baby born, and I can practice law again, or—”
“And you can come home and see your mother, Jack.”
The voice quavered with emotion, but there was no mistaking it. With Amber still in his arms, Rafferty turned to stare at the woman who’d addressed him. She was shorter than he remembered, and grayer at the temples, but the brown eyes that had seen through every lie he’d ever tried to tell still snapped with laughter. Still shone with a love that was deep and proud and true.
“Ma!”
It was the wish of a boy in trouble, the prayer of a man redeemed, and when Jack rushed into his mother’s open arms, Amber knew her letter, awkward as it was, had been the finest piece of writing she could ever produce. Mother and son were laughing, almost crying as they embraced, oblivious to the other people passing by in the depot. It was all she could do not to cry herself, thinking how she’d give all she had for the chance to hug Mama this way . . . the chance to revise those bitter, disillusioned weeks between her father’s death and her mother’s wasting away.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it, Maudie?” she murmured.
The dog whimpered beside her, swishing the floor with a tail that couldn’t hold still.
Rafferty looked up then, loosened his hold on the plumper, older woman to guide her over for an introduction. “Before you explain how you came to be here—and you will, Ma,” he began in a voice that sounded strangely adolescent, “there’s someone you should meet. This is Amber LaBelle, and we’re going to get married as soon as—”
“I know all that. And I couldn’t be happier.”
Jack’s jaw dropped as his mother covered the distance in two eager strides and wrapped her arms around a surprised but pleased Amber. What the hell was going on here? These two women were taking to each other as though—
“How are you feeling, dear? That long train ride must’ve been—”
“I’m so glad you’re here! I thought maybe I was out of line—”
For the third time today Rafferty could only stare. Hearing Minnit’s rings were fakes, and then learning how Bitsy Sisser had duped him were nothing, compared to watching his mother make over a girl she’d never seen yet seemed to know—and love! “Would . . . would somebody please fill me in?” he mumbled as he approached them. “I get the feeling I’ve missed something.”
The two of them looked up with a giggle of girls sharing a secret. “Amber wrote me the nicest letter,” his mother replied sweetly, “and it was such a relief to finally know the truth.”
Rafferty blinked, not knowing whom to question first.
“She was worried that you might die, and that I’d never know the real reason you couldn’t come home. She asked me to hire you the finest legal assistance her money could buy, even though she firmly believed you acted in self-defense . . . that you were incapable of taking a life, no matter how angry or drunk you were.”
His mother’s steady, controlled gaze made him want to fidget, as he’d done when he was a kid. “Amber wrote all that?” he asked in a small voice. And then it hit him. “Amber wrote all that?”
“I had help,” his bride-to-be admitted, lowering her long, dark lashes. “Watson and I, well—we had a lot of time while you were recuperating, and—”
“It was a wonderful letter,” Mrs. Rafferty joined in, “and when I wasn’t rereading it this week, it was pressed between the pages of my Bible.”
Rafferty could hardly breathe. The woman he loved had put her new writing skills to the ultimate test for him—had written to a mother she’d never met, to save his hide and clear the way for him to come home again. “Amber, I—”
“The best part, however,” his mother went on, “was learning that you were dedicated enough to teach her to read and write. And that you planned to settle down and start a family. I’d hoped to someday hear this news from you, son—”
Here it came, the lecture designed to make him squirm and feel lower than the dirt beneath her heels. No doubt she’d start in about how his long hair and mustache didn’t befit the image of—
“—but you apparently felt that your mother could never understand or forgive your predicament. That your crime was greater than my love for you.”
Jack closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Pa had been handier with a switch, but Ma’s best weapon had always been her way with words. Words that, like a vice, caught hold of his heart and squeezed until he thought his insides might burst open from all that pain and guilt he was holding onto. She hadn’t lost her touch, that was for damn sure.
And yet, when he glanced up, Ma still had an arm around Amber. Her eyes held his, and her smile looked a little tired and worn around the edges—from worry, no doubt—but at least she was smiling. Ma hadn’t lost her touch . . . and it was suddenly the one thing he couldn’t live without. “Ma, I—”
“Hug your mother, Jack, before she starts blubbering like a lonely old—”
He was crushing her to his chest, encircling Amber with his other arm, and suddenly soaring toward the sun, his soul refreshed and cleansed. A wayward woman had nearly cost him his life, but another one, with whiskey skin and an uncanny way of knowing him better than he knew himself, had saved him and shown him the way home.
And then there was Ma, who’d never stopped believing in her boy. A laugh escaped him, but it sounded suspiciously like a sob.
“Jack? Honey, are you all right?”
He gazed down at Amber with a misty-eyed grin, running his finger along the side of her face. “Don’t mind me. I carry on sometimes.”
When she smiled back, he was reminded of a fortuneteller’s line about ghosts that were chasing him . . . ghosts that had vanished now, leaving him free to follow whatever path he chose, whether it be practicing law—or even sheepherding with Maudie out West again! The choices were limitless, as long as this lovely young lady loved him. Carrying on with her, through whatever new adventures they encountered, was indeed the path he’d been born to pursue.
And Amber’s kiss told him she’d known that all along.
About the Author
Reader response to Jack Rafferty (from COLORADO MOONFIRE) convinced Charlotte Hubbard that he deserved his own story—and a scenic fishing-trip vacation to Minnesota and Ontario, Canada provided the perfect setting for Jack’s escape from the law, and for Charlotte and her husband to escape from everything . . . except more story ideas! Their border collie, Kelly, was pleased to provide inspiration for the canine heroine of this story. When they aren’t traveling, the three of them live in Jefferson City, Missouri.
Charlotte is also the author of COLORADO CAPTIVE, GAMBLER’S TEMPTING KISSES, MISSOURI MAGIC, and SAHARA SPLENDOR. She invites readers to contact her at http://www.charlottehubbard.com/
Copyright
Copyright © 1994, 2015 Charlotte Hubbard
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
Please Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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