“He must’ve worn himself out riding today,” Sam supplied. “He’s only just been getting around a couple of days.”
Irene’s eyes widened.
“Josie and Elisabeth nursed him back to health,” he added. “And fed him well, which I’m sure helped him recover.”
“What happened exactly?” she asked. “All I know is he has tender ribs, but he didn’t explain.”
“Mr. Taggart shot the bandits what was robbing Lis’beth and the other people on the train,” Phillip piped up.
Elisabeth’s heart sank. She hadn’t had time to prepare the children, but what would she have said anyway? She couldn’t have encouraged them not to tell the truth. But Gabe hadn’t wanted to upset his sister.
“That’s how he got shot,” Phillip supplied.
Color drained from Irene’s face, and she set down the potato bowl with a thunk, sending her spoon flying, but unaware. “Shot? Gabriel was shot?”
“He’s perfectly fine,” Elisabeth assured her. “His rib deflected the bullet, but was cracked, so it’s quite painful.”
Irene stood, dropping her napkin beside her plate and abandoning her food before she’d taken a bite. “He said nothing.”
“I’m sure he didn’t want you to worry,” Elisabeth replied.
The other young woman turned and left the dining room.
Not knowing whether or not to follow, Elisabeth looked at her father for guidance. She didn’t want to intrude on their family moment, but perhaps she could act as a buffer between the siblings. She wasn’t sure why she cared.
At her father’s shrug, she got up and followed, hurrying up the stairs.
Hearing Elisabeth’s steps behind her, Irene paused in the upstairs hallway. “Which room is he in?”
Elisabeth moved past her and led the way to a closed door. “This one. He might still be sleeping.”
Irene glanced at her, and then turned the knob and pushed open the door. The room was still dim and Gabe lay motionless upon the bed. She moved forward, and the floorboard under her foot creaked.
At the same split second, Gabe shot into motion, reaching beneath a pillow to produce his revolver, and aiming it at Irene with a deadly click.
Chapter Nine
Elisabeth’s heart stopped momentarily before hammering against her ribs at the thundering speed of a locomotive. Irene stifled a cry. Pressing both hands against her midriff, she stood on her toes as though the position elevated her from harm.
“Irene!” he barked. “Don’t ever sneak up on a man like that.” He tucked the gun away and moved to a sitting position.
“You scared ten years off my life,” she told him. “Who did you think had come into your room?”
Elisabeth was now wondering the same thing.
He ran a hand over his eyes. “You took me unaware, is all.”
“Well, I was unaware, too,” she said with an accusatory tone. “You neglected to tell me you’d been in a gunfight and were shot.”
He glanced at Elisabeth, and she shook her head to say it hadn’t been her who told. “It wasn’t precisely like that,” he denied.
The incident had been exactly like that, but Elisabeth kept her mouth shut.
“You shot men who were robbing the train?” his sister asked.
“Not until the situation turned dangerous and lives were at stake. Then I did the only thing I could.”
“And one of them shot you?”
“I wasn’t quite fast enough.”
Elisabeth studied him in the dimness. Hadn’t been fast enough? He’d felled half a dozen men in the time it took her to draw a breath!
“What if you’d been killed?” Irene asked, her voice breaking. “What if I’d arrived in Jackson Springs to that news?” She raised a hand to her brow and stood like that, half shielding her eyes from view. “What would I have done without you?”
“It was my fault,” Elisabeth said then, surprising herself and apparently Gabe, because he turned toward her with his black brows in the air.
Irene turned to face her.
“When those men held up the train and asked for all of our valuables…” She touched her fingers to the ring under her bodice. “I hesitated. I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. It was instinct, a protective reaction to the possibility of losing my mother’s ring.” She looked at Gabe. “He warned me to hand over my belongings so no one got hurt, but I dragged my feet too long. If I’d simply complied, the bandits would have taken their booty and left us in peace.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” Gabe interjected.
“But you said—”
“At the time going along peacefully seemed the reasonable thing,” he said. “We have no way of knowing if they’d have shot passengers or not. Thieves are an unpredictable lot.”
Elisabeth blinked. This day had been full of surprises. His summation was the extreme opposite of anything he’d said regarding the holdup until now. He’d blamed her for all the injuries, including his own. She didn’t know how to react to the pardon. But perhaps his understanding was only for his sister’s sake. Elisabeth didn’t care why he’d changed his tune. Irene was a gently raised young woman, who had traveled all this way to unite with her brother. Elisabeth understood firsthand what it was like to leave behind everything familiar and comfortable and face the uncertainty of starting over.
She also knew what losing a mother was like, though Irene had lost both her parents, and Elisabeth had always had her sisters for company and comfort. This girl had only Gabe.
She looked at him. May the good Lord help her. Sensing the tension between brother and sister, Elisabeth changed the subject. “Dinner is on the table right now. May I bring you a plate?”
“I’ll come down.” Getting to his feet without placing a hand against his side must have taken gumption, or he truly was much better. “Just give me a few minutes to wash up.” Anticipating her next words, he said, “The water from this morning is just fine. I’ll be down shortly.”
Dismissed, she and Irene walked out, and Elisabeth closed the door behind her.
“You lost your mother?” Irene asked.
“Seven years ago,” she answered.
Irene blinked. “But all those small children…”
“My father remarried. Josie is resting right now. A brand-new baby sister was born just today.”
“And you’ve all been so gracious, when you already have a house—and your hands—full.”
“Josie loves it that way. She was the one who initially suggested you stay with us.”
“I shall look forward to meeting her.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” She walked ahead of Elisabeth to the top of the stairs. “I lost both of my parents at the same time. Gabriel saw to my care and education. I’ve been counting the days until I could leave boarding school. I can’t wait to live in a real home and get to know my brother.”
“I can attest that it’s his priority to make a home for you. Having his plans thwarted did not rest well.”
They returned to the dining room, where Gabe joined them within a few minutes. He sat next to his sister, and she looked over at him with adoration.
Sam inquired about Abigail’s and Anna’s day at school, and once they’d finished sharing the details of their day—before they’d been summoned home to meet their new sister—he asked the twins what they’d done. Kalli filled in missing details. Finally he glanced at Elisabeth, then over at Gabe. “And how was your ride? How does the land appear?”
“Fertile,” Gabe replied. “There are trees and bushes everywhere, so there’s underground water. We saw streams. Of course I haven’t looked over all of the property, but it doesn’t appear anyone’s ever settled there, and if they have it’s been in years past. There are meadows for hay and grassland for pastures. And a flat spot for a house and stables and corrals.”
“If you grow grapes, they will have to be carried on a stick between two men,” Elisabeth joked.
Gabe looked at her lik
e she’d spoken another language. “That’s absurd.”
She stared at him pointedly. “Joshua and Caleb after they saw the promised land?”
“Who are Joshua and Caleb?”
She shared a look with her father. “Never mind.”
“No, tell me. Are Joshua and Caleb ranchers or farmers?
“They were Israelites Moses sent ahead to spy out the promised land after the people had been freed from bondage in Egypt,” Irene supplied, surprising Elisabeth. “They returned saying the land God gave them flowed with milk and honey and that the bunches of grapes were so huge, it took two men to carry them.”
Gabe nodded. “I’ve heard of Moses.”
“The lesson to be learned,” Sam said, “is that the other ten spies reported they’d seen giants. They thought it looked too risky to take over the land. They allowed fear to cloud their judgment, and their fear spread to the people. They wanted to tuck tail and run. What those ten spies had was an eye problem.”
“What do you mean, Papa?” Phillip asked.
“They were looking at the circumstances with their natural eyes and not eyes of faith. They said, ‘We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them.’ But they were spies, sent to observe in secret. The giants didn’t see them at all. Those men imagined their fears.”
“Tell about Joshua and Caleb,” Anna said, leaning forward over her plate.
“Joshua and Caleb had a different perspective,” Sam said. “God had, after all, promised that land to them. They gave Moses a good report about the lushness of the land.”
“Maybe they hadn’t seen the giants,” Gabe suggested.
“Oh, they saw them all right. But they figured that if God had promised Canaan would be their home that those giants would either leave or be destroyed. They saw the same circumstances, but they saw them through God’s promise and power. They said, ‘Let’s hurry on in there and take that land. We’re well able to overcome and possess.’”
“What happened?” Gabe asked.
“All the people listened to the naysayers. They cried and complained and grumbled about Moses bringing them there and wished they had died in Egypt where they were slaves, and Joshua and Caleb couldn’t talk them out of their fears. Even after God had parted the Red Sea for them and swallowed up the Egyptian army behind. Even though He dropped manna from the sky to feed them, still they didn’t trust Him.
“So God said then that none of those over twenty years old would see the promised land. The ten spies died from a plague. The people wandered in the wilderness for forty years until the last person, besides Joshua and Caleb, who’d been over twenty had died. Joshua and Caleb were allowed to enter Canaan.
“After that Joshua fought a lot of battles, and he’s the one who led his army to march around Jericho until the walls fell.”
“Tell us that story, Papa,” Phillip encouraged.
“Another time,” his father replied in a kind voice. “We’ve all had a long day and can all use some rest.”
“Do you really believe in giants?” Gabe said later to Elisabeth as she reached to serve him rice pudding.
“There are several accounts in the Bible,” she said. “Goliath was most likely a descendant of those giants the Israelites saw.”
After Kalli, Elisabeth and Abigail had cleared away supper and finished the dishes, they joined the others in the great room where Anna sat working on her arithmetic and Sam held a twin on each knee. “Let’s go up now so you can see your mother and Rachel for a few minutes,” he said to the boys. “Then it’s time for bed.”
The younger siblings obediently joined him, and Kalli followed to help them prepare for bed, leaving Elisabeth with the Taggarts.
“Would you care for a game of cribbage?” she asked. “Or you’re welcome to any of the books in Father’s library down the hall.”
“I believe I will get a book,” Irene replied and left the room.
“Your father tells those stories as if they’re real,” Gabe said.
Elisabeth cast him a look. “They are real.”
He said nothing.
Irene returned, book in hand. “You father has a copy of The Memoirs of Uncle Tom. I’ve never read it, but I’ve always wanted to.”
“Sounds familiar,” Gabe commented.
“It’s Josiah Henson’s personal telling of his life story. This is the book on which Harriet Beecher Stowe based Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the book that practically started the war between the states by exposing the truth about slavery.”
“I’ve always admired her,” Elisabeth said. “She was a Christian lady. She met with Abraham Lincoln, you know.”
“The female abolitionists are my role models,” Irene told her with a nod. “By taking a stand for equality, they laid the groundwork for women’s rights. I’ve heard Elizabeth Stanton and Matilda Joslyn Gage give speeches.”
Gage looked at her with a brow cocked. “Where?”
“Our headmaster took all of us to Philadelphia for women’s suffrage meetings whenever a speaker came through. This is an important year. While we’re celebrating a hundred years of freedom, women still have fewer rights than their male counterparts. Did you realize that women do two-thirds of the work in our nation, but aren’t even allowed the same legal privileges as men?”
“Which privileges are those?” he asked.
“Most importantly, the right to vote,” she answered, sitting beside him. “This month the leaders of the suffrage movement are traveling in the states and territories, talking to the people. Women will be wearing black crepe on Independence Day to show their allegiance to the cause. In many cities and towns the women will the orators of the day.” She turned to Elisabeth. “Why, I’ve attended so many meetings, I could give a speech!”
Gabe wanted to groan, but still absorbing this new information and a side of his sister he hadn’t anticipated, he thought a moment before speaking. “It’s all right for you to read your books and talk to us about this, but it might be better for everyone if you don’t make your interest public.”
Irene stared at him, disappointment in her expression, her stiff posture revealing anger.
Elisabeth cringed inwardly, waiting for her next words.
“Gabriel,” Irene said in a controlled voice. “Are you going to tell me I can’t stand up for what I believe?”
“No,” he replied carefully. “I was just thinking how the single men would react to your passion for this cause. It might put them off.”
“And why would I give a whit about what they think?”
“Because they’re husband prospects.”
This time she left the book on the sofa and stood. She took a step back as though he’d stung her. “It’s your belief that I need a husband, therefore I should be compliant and pretend I’m someone I’m not in order to catch one?”
Elisabeth closed her eyes, feeling Irene’s hurt. She wished she could leave the room, but could hardly get up and run now.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did say that.” His sister pursed her lips, and then with more composure added, “You want to marry me off so I’m not a bother.”
“No, Irene. It’s not like that at all.”
“Because I can support myself, you know. You paid for an education most young women never get. I can keep accounts, and I am familiar with many tasks. I could apprentice at a trade or I could be a bookkeeper. I even know enough about herbs and tinctures to help a doctor.”
“That wasn’t at all what I meant.”
“What do you think, Elisabeth?” Irene asked, turning toward her. “Do you think women are entitled to have opinions about their own futures?”
Elisabeth didn’t want to get in the middle of the siblings’ disagreement. Neither did she want to take a side, but she sympathized with Irene and the hurt she was obviously feeling. “I understand that your brother has concerns for your future, and he feels a responsibility toward you. It’s plain that he loves you.”
&n
bsp; Gabe seemed satisfied with her answer…but she continued.
“I don’t necessarily agree with hiding your beliefs under a bushel just to please a prospective husband. You couldn’t live your whole life stifled in that manner. When your true viewpoint became apparent, the man might feel as though he’d been tricked.”
“As he would have been.” Irene turned to Gabe again. “And that is the life you’d have for me? Tricking a husband into marriage because who I really am isn’t pleasing enough?”
He rubbed a palm down his face and cupped his jaw for a moment before dropping his hand. “The two of you have twisted my words into something I didn’t intend.”
“I can make my own decisions about my future,” Irene said. “Without a man telling me what to do. You or any other man.”
She turned on her heel and left the room.
Chapter Ten
Irene obviously hadn’t wanted her brother to see her cry. Once she was gone, Elisabeth cast Gabe a tentative glance.
He looked as though he’d been shot again. “That wasn’t what I intended.”
“Her feelings are hurt,” she told him. “She’s only just arrived and you’ve told her you’re planning to marry her off.”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t say that.”
“Not in those exact words, but you said it. It’s plain she adores you. She’s never had a family or a home. You’re all she has, and if your main concern is for her to marry, she probably feels as though you don’t want her with you.”
“I do want her. I always wanted her. I was never able to take care of her, but I gave her the best education possible.”
“Obviously. And now you don’t want her to use it.”
He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, head lowered, and laced his fingers in front of his eyes.
Elisabeth felt his pain as acutely as she’d felt Irene’s. She moved to sit beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder.
He started at the touch, but turned his head to look at her. The anguish in his eyes told of his deep love and lack of confidence. He was so brash and smug in all other ways, this unfamiliar glimpse of vulnerability tugged at her heart.
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