After the service, people flocked to Rosie. Many of them wished her well, even the lady she had stolen the clothes from. “Oh, Miss Carson, don’t worry about those clothes. In fact, I’m sure I have some more garments to give away. If I get them to you later, you’ll see about giving them to people who need them, won’t you?”
Rosie could barely find a voice. After what she’d done, what she’d confessed, they would still trust her with the clothes? She nodded.
“An excellent suggestion.” Mr. Abbott came last in the line. “Right in line with what the deacons are proposing. We just had a quick meeting”—he nodded at the men gathered behind him—“and we’re in complete agreement. We have been remiss in our care of the people at our doorstep. It took you to show us that. And we believe you are the best person to take charge of our outreach. Are you willing?”
They were handing Rosie her heart’s desire on a platter? But she had to say no. “As soon as I finish paying back what I stole, I gotta find work that pays. My ma’s only got me to support her. I can only work on something like that part of the time.”
Mr. Abbott blinked. “Miss Carson, we will pay you for your services. We’ll help you work things out with the people you hurt.”
Happiness welled up inside Rosie. “Then I say…yes!”
The last of the deacons filed out behind Mr. Abbott, leaving Ma, Iris, and Owen with Rosie. Ma winked at Iris. “Let’s go out into the sunshine and leave these two alone for a few minutes.”
“Owen—”
“Rosie—” They spoke simultaneously.
She broke into nervous laughter. “Well.”
“I told you God had things under control.” Owen’s grin could have filled all of Texas. “Remember the question I asked you that night by the river?”
When you said you want to court me? How could I forget? “Yes.”
“Do you have an answer for me now? I already asked your mother; that’s why she left us alone.”
“Will you ask me again?” she asked. Part tease, part a request for reassurance.
“I love you, Miss Rosie Carson. Will you allow me to court you, to shower you with my love, and marry me in due time?”
“Yes.” But Rosie wasn’t finished. “What about you, Ranger Cooper? Do you want to court a convicted thief, a sinner who returned to her old ways at the first opportunity?”
“Who is that?” Taking her hands in his, Owen looked straight through her. “The only woman I see here is a new creation in Christ, beloved of God and called to ministry. I am the one who is honored, if you will accept me.”
For answer, Rosie stood on tiptoe and leaned forward, audaciously inviting him to kiss her. “Yes.”
He brushed her lips with his. “Welcome home, angel.”
REUBEN’S
ATONEMENT
by Lynette Sowell
Dedication
This book is dedicated to CJ, my outlaw.
I love the trail we’ve traveled together.
Prologue
Denmark, Texas, 1867
Quit your bawling, Benjamin.” Reuben Wilson didn’t mean to sound harsh, not with his baby brother. But a six-year-old couldn’t understand why they couldn’t go home. Reuben didn’t care to think about what he’d left behind in Wyoming. Otherwise he’d probably want to lean back and give a good howl like Benjamin.
Benjamin’s round cheeks flamed red, his eyes swollen from a day and night of crying. “I want Ma!” A few passersby on the street glanced toward them but kept on their way. Reuben hoped they’d mind their own business. Colt should be back any moment with their supplies. That is, if he didn’t lose his head and draw too much attention to them.
“You can’t have Ma, not with the law after us.” Caleb Wilson bent closer to Benjamin. “One day, I promise, I’ll come back for you. Me, Reuben, and Colt.”
“You p–p–promise?” Benjamin’s sobs turned to hiccups.
“Yeah, sure do.” Caleb chucked him on the shoulder.
“Y’all gonna stand there jawing with the boy, or can I show him where he’s goin’ to sleep?” Sadie stood in the doorway of the Gilded Lily. Her booted foot tapped like a woodpecker on the boardwalk. She shoved the short-capped sleeve of her flaming red dress over her bare shoulder. “I got customers waitin’ to meet the girls.”
“Yeah, go on, Benjamin.” Reuben kept scanning the crowded street. He considered himself a man at twenty, and he took his responsibility for his brothers seriously. “Sadie’s goin’ to take good care of you. She’ll even give ya some spending money once in a while for helping out.” His gaze darted from faces to horses to weapons of passersby. They needed to leave, and fast.
“She will, will she?” Sadie’s brow furrowed. “I don’t recall agreein’ to pay the boy just ’cause y’all are running from the law.”
Reuben flashed his attention to Sadie. “Just give the boy a quarter once in a while. He’s a good boy. My ma taught him. He can read a mite, even sweep floors and do dishes. Can you help ’er out, Benjamin?”
“Okay.” Benjamin hiccupped.
“We can’t go back to Ma now. But one day I’ll come back for you.” The promise made Reuben feel as if he’d swallowed an apple core.
Pounding hooves made Reuben look up. He touched the revolver on his hip. It was only Colt, riding up on a new mount. He had two more in tow. “Got our rides, boys. Let’s go.”
Reuben’s eyes burned as he took one last look at Benjamin. If only Caleb and Benjamin hadn’t tailed them from Wyoming. By the time he and Colt had discovered the boys following, they couldn’t well turn back. Not with the sheriffs of three towns hunting for them. He said nothing and grabbed the reins of the nearest mount. The other horses had been ridden too hard, and they couldn’t risk stopping for long.
Before Benjamin’s tears began anew, Reuben led Colt and Caleb to the edge of town.
Reuben reined in his horse and faced both of them. “We go different directions. Y’all lay low, keep your noses clean, and get a new life if you can. A year from now we meet here, get Benjamin, and go back to Ma.” Colt and Caleb nodded, then spurred their mounts and disappeared in clouds of dust.
Desperation now drove them apart, but Reuben hoped they’d all find their way back together somehow.
Chapter 1
Raider’s Crossing, Wyoming Territory—February 1880
Thirteen years and a heart full of memories lay between Charlotte Jeffers and Reuben Wilson. That, and his mother’s coffin being walked down the chapel aisle and out the front doors. Charlotte shivered at the blast of wind that whistled through and touched them all.
The man’s heart had to be as icy as the late winter air to leave his mother for so long and return but a few days before her spirit left this earth. Charlotte knew Reuben had broken Elizabeth Wilson’s heart. She shoved her own childhood pain aside and prayed silently that somehow the Lord could work good out of the whole mess.
Reuben removed his hat. His calloused hands traced around the band. Lines etched his face, partly from grief and partly from a life spent away from Raider’s Crossing that Charlotte could only guess at. Propriety reined her in from stepping across the aisle and telling Reuben exactly what she thought of him.
He’d grown tall, as she’d guessed he would. Broad as a fence, with arms that looked strong enough to hold up a wagon by the axle. Walnut brown hair as untamed and unruly as its owner, and green penetrating eyes that held plenty of secrets. Reuben’s well-kept mustache lent a maturity to his face. If he weren’t one of the Wilson boys, she reckoned he’d be yet another eligible man in town. Which didn’t interest her one bit.
“They say he’s a changed man.”
Charlotte started at the whisper in her ear. “We’ll see about that, won’t we, Mrs. Booth?” She should know better than to entertain conversation with the postmistress who happened to know all sorts of interesting tidbits about folks in town.
“I heard he killed a dozen men in Colorado and New Mexico. And he’s got a red-skinned w
ife hidden somewhere.” The older woman’s voice carried in the crowded chapel.
“If he’s made his peace with God, his past won’t matter anymore.” As for the wife? Well, that was Reuben’s own business. Her words sounded trite and pompous. She dropped the conversation, hoping Mrs. Booth would fall silent. This would teach her to accept a ride from James instead of accompanying her parents to the funeral.
“A fine young lady like you would do well to stay away from the likes of him. Good thing those brothers o’ his aren’t around, either. Scalawags, the lot of ’em.” Mrs. Booth clucked and hissed, shaking her head. “Except for poor Benjamin…”
Charlotte wanted to distance herself from the gossip, but she was wedged shoulder-to-shoulder with the other residents who’d come to pay their respects. James sat on her other side, and she guessed he probably wondered if anyone had noticed his new buggy. She wondered where he’d gotten the money for it.
She forced her feet to keep still and clamped her hand on James’s offered arm. He started rubbing slow circles on the back of her hand. Charlotte slipped her hand free from the unwanted demonstration of…affection? James’s expression didn’t exactly show affection. In fact, she couldn’t quite put a name to the look on his face. It made her want to find her parents.
Other young ladies in town saw James as a fine match for an unattached female. He came from good, hardworking people and had made quite a name for himself in Laramie, or so he claimed, writing for the newspaper. Now he was back in town and writing for the Raider’s Crossing News.
A good name was something to be proud of, unlike some names that sprang to mind. Like the one attached to the man across the aisle from her.
Charlotte glanced at Reuben and saw his expression boring into her. Her face tingled. She straightened her posture and refused to pull her gaze from his.
I know what you’re all about, Ruby Wilson. No childhood loyalties will keep me from surrendering the land we bought from your mother. Leave Raider’s Crossing, and we’ll all be better off.
A man could do only so much to make amends. Reuben sighed, the sound an echo of the prairie wind. He would never be able to make up for his ma’s undeserved grief.
The tiny community had gathered for a brief service, but their faces were a blur to him among a sea of dark suits and dresses, showing respect to his ma. He would not look at them, only at the cross that hung at the front of the tiny church.
What do I do, Lord?
“Find your brothers, Reuben, and buy our old farm back.” Ma’s last request came to him again. “Make your pa’s dream come true.”
“I promise, Ma,” he’d said. At that moment he would have agreed to anything, to see the glow of pride in her eyes.
Long ago, when life was simpler, he and Colt, Caleb, and little Benjamin had lived a joyous boyhood as they traveled west and helped their pa build a home. Pa had promised they would raise cattle and keep as many horses as they could.
Where had those days gone? When did joy sneak away like a bandit in the night?
Whispers drifted through the crowd after the closing prayer, and Reuben forced himself to look directly at the source of the voices. Mrs. Booth, the loosest jaw in town, and Charlie Jeffers. Reuben found himself locked in a battle of glares with the younger woman while memories dragged him away….
“Charlie! Girls ain’t supposed to ride like boys!” Fifteen-year-old Reuben bellowed at a honey-haired girl with spindly arms. She rode astride a straggly pony as she gave Reuben and his brothers hot pursuit across the rolling hills. He reined in his horse and watched the pair approach.
“Can, too!” Her bonnet flopped around her neck. “I can do anything you or Colt or even Caleb can!” She set her jaw and gave him a look hot enough to fry an egg.
“Go home and help yer ma.” Girls! Always getting underfoot. Arguing, then sniffling and bawling when they didn’t get their way.
“Stop treating me like Benjamin.” Her lower lip started to quiver. “B’sides, I’m your blood sister.”
Reuben spat on the ground and glared at Colt. He’d been the one to let Charlie in on their little ritual. “Blood brothers—and sister—till the stars die,” they’d promised.
Now Reuben felt the heat of the same expression. He and his two younger brothers had always been fascinated with the customs of the natives in the land, but it never occurred to them the silliness of proclaiming themselves blood brothers. The only one who’d really been bonded to them through the ritual was Charlie.
Did she remember? He let himself stare until a blush swept over her face. Her once-thin features had bloomed, and her awkwardness had transformed into curvy womanhood. A brief thought fluttered through his mind. Did she still wear trousers on occasion? The caught-up hair that still reminded him of honey in sunlight and the prim neckline of her dress told him she’d put childish notions behind her.
Reuben had come to town with money in his pocket, with hopes of one day buying back his family’s land, but he wanted to test the waters before he plunged in with talking about a sale. The folks in Raider’s Crossing held grudges, he discovered. They also took care of their own.
Just like the dandy who’d been eyeing Charlie like she was a prized possession. And eyeing Reuben like he was a fox trying to get into the henhouse. Reuben gritted his teeth. Courting Charlie Jeffers would be like expecting to rope the moon. Finding his brothers and getting the family land back would be nearly as difficult.
He barely remembered stumbling to the cold outside, shaking the preacher’s hand, and thanking him for his words about Ma. Reuben wouldn’t have been able to speak, and he didn’t deserve to. He couldn’t have spoken of the few happy childhood memories he owned. Just as well. He’d probably have cried in front of the town.
An older yet familiar man, who of a certainty had to be Mr. Jeffers, shook hands with Charlie’s suitor. The suitor smiled at Mr. Jeffers then offered Charlie his arm. The couple left for a smart-looking buggy. Reuben seized the moment to approach Charlie’s father.
“Mr. Jeffers, thank you kindly for coming.” He touched the brim of his hat and nodded at Mrs. Jeffers. “Ma’am, thank you, too.”
Sam Jeffers regarded Reuben’s hand for a moment, then reached out to give a hearty shake. “Welcome back, son.”
“Thank you.” Reuben swallowed hard. “I–I’ve been meaning to ask you somethin’ since I’ve been back.”
“Yes?” Sam huffed through his gray mustache.
“I was wonderin’ if you’re needing a hand about your place. I’ve been working some ranches in Colorado, and I ain’t afraid of hard work here.” Reuben dwarfed the man by at least six inches, but somehow in his presence Reuben felt as if he were ten years old.
“I reckon I’ll need some help with the horses, plus the barn needs patching ’fore a late storm sets in.” Sam looked him straight in the eye. “You come on out at suppertime, and we’ll talk some more.”
Reuben nodded. “Yes, sir. That’ll be fine, sir. I’ve got a room in town.”
“Is that so? If you work for me, plan on staying in our bunkhouse. It’s not much, but it’s warm. Our other hired hands go home to their families, so you’ll be on your own.” Sam squeezed Reuben’s arm. “Etta puts supper on the table at five, so bring your appetite.”
“Thank you, sir, ma’am.” Reuben watched them leave the churchyard, and he felt strangely alone.
He’d gotten used to his own company these past years after losing track of Colt and Caleb. Reuben moved back to the wooden coffin and squatted next to it on the hard ground. He had ordered a stone with honestly earned cash in anticipation of a burial come spring. But the man had accepted the money with a suspicious look in his eye.
“Lord, it’s a beginning. At least Mr. Jeffers—Sam—will look me in the eye. Thank You for the chance to make things right again.”
Reuben bowed for a few minutes more in wordless prayer, letting regret sweep through him until silent sobs threatened to wrack his body. He did not care that a
couple of men stood nearby, waiting to carry his mother’s coffin to be held with the others until the ground thawed.
“Mr. Wilson?”
He forced his face into a semblance of composure and glanced up. “Reverend. I was just takin’ a moment—”
“You’ve walked a long road to get here.”
Reuben nodded. He had arrived by stage and meant to buy a horse, but he figured the reverend was talking in a different sort of way. “Yeah, I have. I–I’m not the same person I was when me and the boys lit out years ago.”
“People around here, they don’t change much, I’ve noticed.”
“I have, thanks to God and an old preacher named Reverend Mann. He told me I needed to start making amends for what I’d done.” Reuben turned his focus to the wooden box before him. “It meant jail time, but Reverend Mann was right. A man sleeps easy with a clear conscience.”
“Well, maybe in time people here will see the change in your life.” Reverend Toms patted Reuben’s shoulder. “Won’t happen overnight, but you give them a chance, and they’ll come around. God’s grace covers all of us willing to accept it. I’ll be praying you find your family.”
“Thank you, sir.” He watched as Reverend Toms left the yard to return to the parsonage. The preacher had been in Raider’s Crossing since Reuben was a boy. He imagined the older man entering the tiny home he shared with his wife. Their children were probably grown and gone.
Would Reuben ever have the security of home and know the warmth of a family? Right now he felt as desolate as the grave. Warmth didn’t linger among the dead.
He supposed he’d better get moving, back to the rooming house, and prepare himself to face the Jeffers clan. Maybe he could glean a bit of comfort from them. Although he didn’t deserve any kindness, he hoped even Charlie would welcome him.
Chapter 2
He’s coming here?” Charlotte’s voice cut off with a squeak. She set the kettle back on the stove and whirled to face Momma. “Your pa’s talking about hiring him to help out. You know we need an extra hand around here, especially with your brother gone.” Momma matter-of-factly kneaded the bread dough a final time.
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