Then the judge grabbed Gabe’s hand and shook it gleefully. “Good show, Mr. Getty! By golly, Dickinson County’s lucky to have you on the judiciary—”
“No, sir, when I resigned, I meant it.” Gabe spoke confidently, with no sign of apology or regret. “Two weeks on the bench showed me that I’ll be much happier trying cases as a lawyer and—”
“And a darn fine lawyer, too!” Papa piped up.
“—getting back to my legal roots—than rendering decisions from on high. Thanks for your patience and your help today, Your Honor.”
Hannibal Prescott sighed. “My pleasure, Gabriel. Best of luck to you.”
Once again Solace caught Gabe’s eye…saw an inexplicable something on his face. Was he returning to St. Louis, then? Going back to his roots—to where he’d established a reputation and a clientele?
Back to where Lily lives?
The thought tied itself in a knot, right where her heart was.
Billy Bristol’s family was clamoring around them now, and Mama was inviting everyone to the Triple M for a celebration, but all Solace heard was a soft, lonely sigh deep within herself. Had she won her case but lost the man who’d make her life worthwhile?
Chapter Twenty-seven
“It is so good to have you all here!” Mama said for the dozenth time. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the lot of you coming through that courtroom door!”
“It was like the cavalry came in!” Temple exclaimed. “Like Joshua and his armies had arrived to fight the battle of Jericho! Once I saw you folks, I knew we couldn’t lose!”
Solace stood out of the way, watching Asa and Beulah Mae working side by side at the pie safe—the old Negro was weaving a lattice crust over a peach cobbler while his larger, more energetic wife kneaded warm, fragrant dough for dinner rolls. Temple chopped cabbage for slaw, and her mother stirred two mason jars of sweet corn into batter for her favorite corn pudding. Eve sat at the table dicing hard-cooked eggs and celery into a large bowl that would hold a lot of potato salad.
How their faces beamed…how their voices harmonized and danced as they caught each other up on family doings—and all to celebrate her victory in court today. She’d known this kitchen rhythm her entire life, from the time Mama and Asa had put their meals on the table through Temple Gates’s taking over as the family’s house keeper. Once her mother had come by more children than she had hands, Mercy Malloy had shared her love of cooking and her home with the Negroes who’d become members of their patchwork family, too.
That was Mama’s purpose: to nourish and nurture. Young and old, dark and light alike had flourished in the sunshine of her soul.
Yet while Solace felt blessed by the special love in this kitchen, it really wasn’t her place. She could put together an acceptable meal because she and Lily and Grace had always helped with the cooking, but none of them cherished that calling the way their mother did.
Smiling, Solace slipped out the back door and onto the porch, listening to the their voices that carried through the screen door. Moments later Rex showed up to accept a head-scratching, as he always did. From here she saw her sister, Grace, holding Olivia and Bernadette’s hands, showing Billy’s daughters her childhood home. Gracie was a born teacher, and her delight in those girls was mirrored on their young, freckled faces as they gazed up at her.
Out by the barns, the men talked with their hands in constant motion, as though Billy had never left his post as Papa’s horse trainer. Young Owen shadowed his daddy, looking just the way she remembered Billy Bristol when he was that age. Gabe, in more comfortable clothing now, completed the quartet that leaned on the corral, facing fields that bristled with bright green wheat.
Each of them, too, had found the life path God had meant him to follow: paths they’d recognized from early childhood. Michael Malloy knew ranching; Billy Bristol knew horses; Gabe Getty’s bookish ways had led him to the law. And they’d pursued these occupations as though their fathers had led them by the hands and given them the keys to the kingdom.
And yet they’d all lost their fathers early on. Just as she had.
How had they known what they were called to do in this life?
It was a mystery that intrigued yet agitated her as she stood on the porch, looking out over the world as she’d always known it. If Gabe went his way without her—if her life as a trick-shot artist had already run its course—how was she to spend her days? In her heart, she knew she’d never raise another dog like Rex or own other horses as magnificent as Lincoln and Lee, just as she now understood that life with a traveling show wasn’t nearly as glorious or glamorous as she’d imagined.
She was only eighteen, yet she’d accomplished all she felt called to do. It was a scary…lonely thought.
“I guess it’s just you and me now, Rex,” she murmured as the Border collie nuzzled her leg.
You are never alone, Solace.
She sighed, smiling sadly. “All right, Daddy, so you’ll always be in the picture, too. And thank you for seeing me through the trial today…but I have no idea what to do next! Where to go or—”
He holds your hand, Solace. That’s all you need to know.
Even as she knew her father was referring to God, her gaze fell on Gabe Getty. Would he ever hold her hand again? Was she wrong to want him so badly? Silly to believe he could love a short-haired tomboy who thrived on the thrill of a trick no one else could perform.
He knows you better than that. Better than he knows himself.
Solace raised an eyebrow. When she turned and saw that Gabe had dropped his satchel on the porch to hug her mother, she knew what to do next. It was a baby step, a long shot, a casting out of a net that might not catch anything….
But it was now or never.
Solace passed purposefully through the kitchen so no one would sidetrack her. Up the stairs she clambered, two at a time, until she reached her room. She pulled out the carpetbag under her bed, where she kept her portfolio and the story she’d completed late last night after everyone else was asleep. It had kept her sane while she awaited her trial, and now it would either convince Gabe Getty of how much she loved him, or it would drive him away for good.
She unbuttoned her bodice and tucked the sheaf of papers inside it. If she went down the service stairs and out the back door…walked around the house as though taking in the lovely sunset…slipped the story about the prairie lawyer and his brave-hearted heroine into Gabe’s satchel, well—he couldn’t miss her message, could he? Would her writing convince him to let go of Letitia and give her a chance to win his heart?
Her plan went perfectly—until someone came up behind her as she slipped the story into the satchel. “Solace? I—can we talk for a moment?”
The color of getting caught was red, and when she quickly stood up, Solace felt her face giving away her secret. “Gracie! Yes, of course, we can—”
Her sister’s gaze drifted south. “Maybe you’d like to fasten up first?” she asked with a grin.
Solace fumbled with her buttons, knowing darn well she’d better explain this situation…or give a simplified version of it, anyway. By now, Grace had worked with Billy’s children enough to see through fibs and fabrications. “I uh, wrote a little something for Gabe. So he could think about it later, when there aren’t so many people around.”
When had Grace Malloy grown into such a pretty young woman, with Papa’s light in her eyes and Mama’s sweet smile? Her simple frock of yellow dimity reflected a soul filled with childlike sunshine, yet her curves bespoke a womanly strength. Solace stood awestruck for a moment, caught up in the emotions she saw at work on Grace’s face: a strong sense of duty and devotion, mingled with doubt right now. “I have a confession,” her little sister murmured.
Solace straightened. What on earth could Saint Grace have done that warranted such a furrow between her brows? A quick glance told her the children were romping with their father, and behind them, the committee of cooks still sounded busy in the kitchen. “All rig
ht, I’m listening. But I can’t imagine—” She took hold of Grace’s hands to stop her fidgeting, and her sister sighed as though she bore a heavy load indeed.
“I—when I saw you today on that witness stand—on trial for murder!” she rasped, gripping Solace’s fingers. “Well, I knew you hadn’t shot that Walsh woman. But when I realized you might go to jail for—that I might not see you for a long time—”
“Oh, Gracie, Gabe took care of that,” Solace whispered. “This whole Wild West misadventure is behind us now.”
“But you loved riding and shooting and—and you looked so magnificent and so—so fearless! Like you were flying with invisible wings when you stood up on your horses,” Grace blurted. “I just wanted to apologize for the rotten, rude things I said to you at Billy’s. I was on a high horse myself, full of my sophisticated schooling. But you saw the Bristol children for the challenges they’d present, and—”
Solace slung an arm around her sister’s quivering shoulders. “Are they giving you trouble, Gracie? I’ll smack their butts and set them straight if—”
“No! They’re just—well, they’re kids!” she said with an exasperated shrug. “I have so much to learn. We thank God Bernadette has started talking, but now she’s never quiet. I couldn’t possibly keep Owen on task—and keep Olivia from tattling all the time—if I were teaching that little imp to speak. And—”
“You’re the perfect governess for them, Gracie,” she said, trying not to laugh. “You have quite a mix of personalities to mold and make into something, but you’ll do it. From where I stand, training Rex and my horses was a snap, compared to what you’ve undertaken.”
Grace let out a long sigh and rested her head on Solace’s shoulder. “I didn’t intend to carry on this way,” she said quietly. “I’m making progress with them, actually. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry I was so mean-spirited about your clothes and your dare-dev ilish ways.”
She looked up with wide hazel eyes. “I just wish I had half your heart and spirit, Solace. I’m so glad you’re my sister.”
A huge lump blocked her throat. Solace blinked repeatedly. She hugged Gracie hard, grateful for such an unexpected blessing—and just when she’d thought she didn’t have many of those! “All right, and I’m sorry, too. For calling you Saint Grace,” she admitted. “We need more people who naturally behave the right way and do what needs doing.”
Her sister dabbed at her eyes with her lace handkerchief. Then she grinned. “Actually, I deserve that name…because I am the perfect servant, you know! Come on—let’s set the table. It’ll be just like old times.”
Indeed, as Solace gazed around the table at these beloved faces, it was like all the best dinners in her memory rolled into one. It was more than the savory ham and the soft, buttery rolls that made her close her eyes in bliss as she chewed; more than Mama’s salty-sweet corn pudding, baked just for her, and the tang of the slaw’s vinegar dressing—not to mention the promise of Asa’s incomparable peach cobbler awaiting them on the sideboard. It was the smiles…the voices…the presence of the people she loved best.
It occurred to Solace as she buttered another of Beulah Mae’s rolls that this celebration wouldn’t have happened, had she not been accused of a crime. Yes, her patchwork family would have found another time to come together, but today it was for her. The thirteen of them had crowded around this table because they loved her and wanted the best for her.
At this moment, even though she felt her life was at loose ends, Solace knew how very blessed she was.
She set aside her woolgathering to follow Gabe’s account of events leading up to his surprise appearance today…to watch his eyes and face and gestures. He talked as though he’d always been a part of this family.
“How’d you find out about the Gypsy fortune-teller being married to Pistol Pete?” Billy asked. His ruddy face was alight with fascination—and admiration—as he helped himself to more ham.
“Apache Pete,” Olivia corrected. “Although he looks nothing like a redskin to me!”
Gabe laughed. “It’s those stage names you’ve got to watch,” he replied, lavishing apple butter on his roll. “While every troupe features performers with fictitious identities, it can also be a way to disguise lives they don’t want us to discover.”
Sol Juddson knows something about this, Solace mused. She followed the cadence and timbre of Gabe Getty’s polished voice, partly to determine if her own assumed identity had affected his feelings for her. He had admired Sol’s stories, as well as the riding and shooting, but it wasn’t Sol who so badly wanted him to love her. His face might reveal what she needed to know, for he hadn’t talked to her since he’d arrived this evening, except to say hello. He’d stayed beside Billy, mostly…
“I went downstairs for dinner at the hotel earlier this week,” he continued confidently, “and I saw a man sitting alone. I was going to ask if I might join him—except then a handsome couple came in and sat with him. I realized it was Pete and Faustina from the Wild West show, dressed in everyday clothing, but the other man called her Ernestine, and kissed her cheek. So I sat in the nearest corner with my back to them.”
“Talk about timing!” Eve exclaimed. “And luck! You could hear everything, but they had no idea!”
“Weren’t no coincidence,” Asa asserted. His gnarled fingers closed around another roll before he passed the basket along. “That was God workin’ things out, so’s Mister Gabe could do his job for our Miss Solace! He prepared a table in the presence of your enemies—there in the hotel, and again in that courtroom—and then He anointed your head. Couldn’t nobody’s evil touch you then!”
Solace smiled gratefully at the old man across the table. How like Asa to put things in a Biblical perspective that set things straight in her heart…reminded her that yes, her cup really had run over with God’s goodness and mercy today.
“You’re exactly right!” Gabe smiled as he recalled how these details had dovetailed so perfectly. “During the meal, I overheard Percy and Ernestine discussing a brother who is a lawyer, but he wanted nothing to do with their case. Then they decided to whip up adverse publicity, so sentiment would run against Solace—which alerted me that the jury might hang her before Hannibal had the chance.
“And as I stole glances at them, it struck me that Pete and Faustina acted like a couple,” he mused aloud. “Made me think back to their little drama at Cora’s graveside—which was all a ruse. Falsified grief at its finest.”
Gabe gazed at her straight on then. Though it was clear he was fond of her—as everyone in the family had insisted at one time or another—Solace saw no overwhelming spark of love in those dark brown eyes. He was a lawyer reliving his victory: a professional who’d accomplished his goal.
“After that, it was a matter of asking a few questions and sending some telegrams,” he said nonchalantly. “I verified, this morning, that Dorling had instigated that front-page story in the Chronicle. Then I notified Harry Draper, and stood outside the courtroom, peering through the crack in the doors, at the circus Prescott was presiding over.”
Solace couldn’t help grinning at him, even if her expression gave away her outright adoration…even if her heart was laid open for him—and everyone else here—to see. “So how did Rex end up at the courthouse—just in case I had to shoot an apple off his head?”
“That was me!” Owen piped up proudly. “Since I could ride the fastest—and since Rex would hop onto my horse with me—I went after him.”
“And the rest of us got to eat dinner in the restaurant!” Olivia said.
“And we got ice cream!” Bernadette crowed. Then she speared her fingers into her coppery curls, a gesture of sheer joy. “I wasn’t s’posed to go down front, but when Olivia turned loose of my hand—”
“Some fat old lady tromped on my toe!” her sister protested.
“—I just had to come see ya, Aunt Solace. You looked awful lonely up there.”
“Perfect timing once again,” Gabe said
, shaking his head with the wonder of it. “Billy, I didn’t intend for my telegram to haul you away from your work, but I was never so glad to see anybody in my life.”
Billy raised a russet eyebrow, his fork poised with a bite of ham. “You couldn’t think I’d stay home when my best girl was in trouble,” he teased. “I knew a cry for help when I saw one, old buddy. It’s what blood brothers do.”
Where else would she find a roomful of people so intent on her safety? People to light her way through the valley of the shadow when she insisted on riding hellbent through its darkness.
“I b’lieve we’d better be passin’ that peach cobbler to celebrate Miss Solace’s victory!” Beulah Mae announced with a wide grin. She’d seated herself closest to the sideboard so she could hold the warm pan, while Mama dished up portions for everyone to pass around.
As Solace cut into the latticework of flaky pastry, down through the thick, sweet layer of golden peaches, Asa grinned at Owen.
“You wanna run out to the spring house and fetch that fresh ice cream, Mister Owen?” he asked. “Nothin’ but the best for Miss Solace, ya know. And for Mister Gabe, our miracle worker.”
Bernadette sucked in her breath, her blue eyes sparkling. “Ice cream again? Twice in one day? Now that’s a miracle!”
Solace smiled around her first mouthful of warm cobbler, and then again when Asa spooned fresh, cold ice cream over it for her. The real miracle, she mused, would be Gabriel Getty staying to practice law in Abilene. Considering how impressed everyone was—how national newspapers would carry the story of his fingerprinting wizardry and his polished professionalism in the courtroom—he was destined to go a long, long way as a lawyer.
Would he take her with him?
Chapter Twenty-eight
Unfinished business…missed opportunities…unrequited love. That was what bit into his heart the next morning as Gabe gazed out the window of his lonely room. The rain didn’t help any. After getting back late last night—politely declining Michael’s invitation to stay over—he felt a black, bleak mood settling over him.
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