by Linda Broday
“Keep walking and don’t look back,” the woman murmured.
The bell continued to clamor as they traveled the streets, glancing back often to make sure they weren’t followed. At last her rescuer unlatched the gate of a picket fence surrounding a dilapidated house. If the Garden Club met here, they were in dire shape.
Opening the door, Laurel found the lavish furnishings quite a shock.
“No one followed, did they?”
The question shot from a gentleman who took her hand. She recognized him from the secret room at the law office.
“I took every precaution.” Georgia removed hat pins, lifted the feathered finery, and laid it on the marble table.
Laurel stared at the two. “I don’t understand…”
“Alfred, please explain to the poor dear we’re not kidnapping her before she faints dead away.”
“I am a bit confused,” Laurel admitted.
Holding her head, she sank into a silk upholstered chair Mr. Rutabaga shoved under her wobbly legs.
“We followed discreetly to the stockade and saw the two men accost you,” Alfred said. “Vallens’s and Taft’s shenanigans have given them an unsavory reputation, to say the least. I alerted fellow Citizens for Peace with the bell and sent my wife to rescue you.”
“I can never thank you enough. They’ve cost me and my family untold grief.” Tears hovered at the near close call.
“We know of your abduction years ago,” Alfred said.
“And your escape from that man’s evil clutches.” Georgia Rutabaga patted her arm. “You’re safe here.”
Within minutes the parlor filled with a group of men. Each wore grim features of fighting a cause they didn’t expect to win, but would try with every ounce of strength in their bodies.
Laurel met Benjamin Epperson’s concern head on. “General Buell didn’t accept the document.”
“I gathered as much. Never fear, we aren’t giving up.”
“That’s right,” Phillip Crump added. “We’re not licked yet. I have a brilliant plan. Excuse us while we confer, Miss James.” A wall panel opened up to another secret room.
Georgia Rutabaga took a seat next to Laurel. “You haven’t let your family know you’re alive and well?”
“I can’t. I care too much.” Laurel’s voice broke.
“About them, or you?”
How quickly Georgia had seen through her. Laurel squirmed. Too many “toos” littered the path home.
“It’s complicated. And risky. I will one day.”
“Let me get you that tea while they talk, dear.”
Over hot tea and fresh apple cake, Georgia Rutabaga shed light on the stark difference between the home’s exterior and interior.
“The military marched in and immediately began confiscating the best homes. Making the outside so hideous no one would want to live here assured us it was the best way to keep it. As predicted, they passed us over. The Mabreys, Schluters, and several others wish they’d done likewise.”
The old house and Laurel shared a kinship. Both resembled souls that ached with weary despair.
Her heart longed for something it couldn’t have.
Brodie’s swollen rebel grays hadn’t disguised the truth.
He’d taken her love when it suited.
Then discarded her as nothing more than ballast in a pockmarked pirate ship.
* * *
Georgia Rutabaga’s endless chatter the entire ride back to Redemption grew tiresome. Poor Alfred Rutabaga never had an opening to toss in an occasional word. Although grateful for the couple’s armed escort, Laurel would’ve preferred a more quiet journey home. The day’s events required mulling.
The misery Brodie dealt sat heavy in her chest. He’d never accepted her past, never had faith she could change.
She’d needed him to believe in her. To want her.
The grim lines in Ollie’s face told of her worry. “It’s about dadburned time!” she scolded. “Worrying a poor body to death oughta be a crime.”
Wolf-dog rose from the pallet and bared his teeth.
“Shush, Hannibal. These are friends.” Laurel kissed Ollie’s cheek. “Couldn’t help it. Now use your best manners to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Rutabaga from Jefferson.”
“Didn’t know you’d be bringing company, girl.”
“I apologize for Ollie. She’s not ordinarily this cantankerous.”
“Am too.” Ollie stumbled a little as she pushed Laurel away and held out a hand. “I’m Olivia Applejack b’Dam and I’m right pleased to make your acquaintance. It’s not every day my girl brings guests home. Will you be staying for tea and crumpets?”
“I’m afraid not,” Alfred quickly got in, “unless Miss James has further needs?”
“You’ve done more than enough. We’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, Alfred. I worry about leaving them.”
“I insist.” Laurel steered them toward the door. “I’ll lock up so tight a cockroach can’t find a crack.”
“Think about going home,” Georgia whispered in her ear.
By the time the Rutabagas’ buggy faded in the distance, Laurel had bolted both doors, slid chairs under the knobs for extra measure, and checked each window latch.
“Hannibal, on guard.” Then she selected the sharpest knife from the drawer.
Let Taft try to harm them now. One disturbing thought niggled. Would the wolf-dog choose Vallens when it came to it?
“Girl, I need you to help these old bones up the stairs if you’ve finished whatever it is you’re doing. Rutabaga is the silliest name I ever heard.”
Ollie generally didn’t ask for help of any sort. Laurel didn’t take that she did so as reassurance that everything was fit as a fiddle.
Also, the woman hadn’t badgered her with a million questions.
“What’s wrong, Ollie? Is it your heart?”
“Just need to lie down for a spell. I just cain’t see.”
The tick of the clock almost drowned the weak voice. Laurel shouldered the slight frame, taking care to not waken Adeline. Ollie collapsed on the bed in her room across from Laurel’s. She didn’t make a squawk when Laurel removed her shoes and drew up a worn quilt.
“Ollie, can I do anything else?”
“Stay with me.”
Shallow breathing robbed the room of air. Laurel gasped from pain of fighting a battle she’d lose. She’d lived in dread of this moment since learning of Ollie’s poor health. Her head told her she couldn’t stall the inevitable, yet her heart wished to believe the motherly friend would live forever.
Fetching Curley entered her mind, except danger lurked outside the doors she dare not unlock. She prayed he’d forgive her.
Tears dampened her cheeks as she curled up beside Ollie and took the thin face between her hands.
“I don’t think I told you how much I love you.”
“Girl, no need to speak of things we already know. Afraid it’s time to part company.”
“Please don’t die.”
“Ain’t of a mind to, but ol’ Gabriel’s tootin’ his horn. Purtiest music I ever did hear.”
Laurel strangled a sob. “Rest awhile and you’ll be fine.”
“Mama, I’ve missed your smile. What’s that, Mama?” Ollie’s voice became child-like. “Grandpappy, you came.”
Chills tumbled end over end. Laurel had heard when a body neared the end that the spirits of loved ones would come carry them home. Only let her be wrong for this once. She smoothed back Ollie’s faded spikes, wishing she could go with her.
“I need you a bit longer, Ollie. This world’s a cold, forbidding place.” Thank goodness Ollie didn’t learn about Taft and Vallens. Laurel had spared her that at least.
Laurel took the knife and laid it beside her.
Ollie mumbled incoh
erently.
“Do you need something? Maybe a cup of your brew might get you raring to face another morn.”
“Reckon the good Lord put me on this earth for a reason and that was to take care of my girl. You gave an old woman purpose when I had nary. Certainly filled my days with more love than an old crone like me deserved.”
She kissed the fragile hand. “We’re about equal in the giving department. You saved me when no other would.”
“I failed. Tried to hang on till I got you with your folks. Promise you’ll go to them once I’m gone. And don’t be too hard on Yates.” Ollie’s murmurs grew more faint.
A blessing the woman didn’t know about the shambled mess in her heart. It was nothing to share with a dying old friend.
The magnitude of an empty life suddenly washed over her.
What would she do, and who to turn to with problems?
“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll make do, Ollie.”
“Say you’ll go to your ma and pa.”
A body had to keep a deathbed pledge no matter what.
Yet, how could she vow it, seeing the impossible nature?
Hot tears rose. She had jinxed everyone she ever loved.
“You should rest now, Ollie.”
“Not until you promise.”
Once the stubborn woman buried her choppers in something she wouldn’t let go, not even in the throes of crossing the dark river. Laurel worked to form words she couldn’t fulfill.
“I will. Now save your strength.”
“I love you, my beautiful angel girl.”
“Wait for me over there. I need someone to welcome me.”
Laurel snuggled close and laid her head on Ollie’s chest. A death rattle commenced that no amount of prayers could stop. Ollie had begun the journey. Soon the dear woman would rest and be free from pain. Laurel hoped the good Lord would overlook and take a liking to the crusty soul. Surely a heart big as the whole blamed state of Texas would go a long way in atoning for any faltering Ollie did on earth.
“Please, God, she didn’t really kill Vallens. And she wouldn’t have stolen that money from Taft if there’d been any other way. So, open the gates and let her in.”
Midnight came and went. Angels folded their wings around Ollie and carried her safely to the distant shore. In the wee hours when dawn stole into the room, Ollie breathed no more.
Laurel clung to the shell her brave friend had occupied. Deep sobs wracked her as tears flowed onto the cold, stiff body.
The turning doorknob had Laurel grabbing the knife. She clutched it with both hands. The mass of long blond hair brought relief.
“I thought I heard… Oh no, is something wrong with Miss Ollie?”
Laurel lowered the knife, wiping her weary eyes. “She’s dead. Her heart played out.”
Adeline sank to the floor. “What’re we going to do? Two girls alone that everyone threw out with the slop.”
“She did love us, for a fact.”
“Who’ll care for us now?”
“We will care for each other…together.”
* * *
Laurel bathed every wrinkle of the body with loving hands before clothing her in a dress of satin and pearls. Aged tissue paper had encased the pale blue finery she found oddly hidden in the bottom of an old trunk Ollie brought with them.
A tiny box yielded another piece of the puzzle, for inside lay a shiny gold band. It glimmered through a sudden veil of wetness. Laurel brushed her eyes, slipping the ring on Ollie’s finger.
Only a woman who’d loved deeply would guard those treasures all these years.
Laurel prayed the man was worth it.
Brodie’s bruised, battered face lingered each time she closed her eyes.
Farewell words haunted every waking moment.
Quit trying to mend things that are better off thrown into a trash heap. I’m not redeemable.
Laurel found some faded letters tied with a red bow in a corner of the trunk. She set them aside, unable to bear the heartbreak of learning that some stranger had spurned someone so precious. She tucked the letters written by Charles Farnsworth into the pine box. The grave would protect their private love.
A blustery day added gloom to the funeral. Little more than a handful came to pay respects. But that was fine. Ollie valued genuine friendship. She would’ve considered it sacrilege to have the scornful there for her send-off.
Laurel kept a wary eye out for Taft and Vallens, although knowing the sneaky pair as she did, they’d bide their time. That was their way.
Within the circle of Curley Madison’s soft warmth, Laurel found courage to complete the journey she began with Ollie that night in St. Louis. Their paths separated here. Each would have to go alone. Perhaps Ollie would meet up with Charles Farnsworth to renew an acquaintance that must’ve had an untimely end. Laurel held on to that thought.
Nodding politely to Murphy, Nora, and Jake, Laurel pulled her heavy shawl closer. Adeline’s heavy sobs punctured the somber quiet. The poor girl had seen much grief for someone so young.
“Curley, since we don’t have a preacher I think Ollie would like you to say something befitting,” Laurel suggested.
The saloonkeeper nodded, blew his nose, and cleared his throat. “Friends, we’re gathered today to mourn the passing of Olivia Applejack b’Dam who the Lord Almighty saw fit to take from us.”
He paused for a moment, struggling for breath.
“Many of you chose to see a rough, crotchety has-been. Not me. Beneath the layer of salt and vinegar was the finest, most beautiful lady I’ve ever met. She left a piece of herself within each of us. Ollie imparted wisdom and truth that we might not’ve wished to hear but had to anyway. Each morsel enriched our lives in ways we never guessed.”
A purple and yellow bouquet of prairie flowers, spiderwort, and broomweed clutched in her fist seemed appropriate for Olivia b’Dam who lived life natural and free on her own terms.
“If a body’s judged by the mark they leave behind, Ollie needn’t worry because hers is wide enough to accommodate Texas and have room for Arkansas.” Curley’s voice quavered. He mopped his eyes with a handkerchief. “Dear Lord, don’t get too mad if you catch her swinging on the pearly gates. Having fun is purely her nature. And she’s a little on the sassy side, which you’ll overlook once you take a shine to her. Amen.”
“Hallelujah.” Smiling, Laurel sniffled.
Through a haze of tears she winced as dirt covered the motherly woman. Adeline’s hand strayed into hers and Laurel took comfort in the meager offering.
If only she’d done more to relieve stress on Ollie’s heart.
If only she’d stayed instead of going on a fool’s errand.
If only she could’ve taken Ollie’s place.
Laurel swallowed the sob, mindful the woman didn’t have anyone left to kill, run off, or hide from.
Murphy hugged her. “Don’t blame yourself. She lived on borrowed time. Just be grateful we had her as long as we did. Nora and I are here if you need anything whatsoever.”
One by one, all left except Laurel, Adeline, and Curley.
“I can’t leave her. What will I do without Ollie?” Laurel sobbed.
“Follow your dream, child.” Curley’s arm encircled her. “Just because loved ones pass don’t give us call to slink away. Ollie would tell you to leave her to the grave and go on.”
The advice stuck with Laurel on the long walk back to an empty life and through the task of moving her belongings to the room across the narrow hall.
“Are you sure Miss Ollie’s things won’t…?” Adeline fingered Ollie’s worn dress they’d exchanged for the blue satin, unable to complete the thought.
“Give me the willies?” Laurel kissed the top of the blond head. “I honestly don’t know. I can still smell that pipe. On the other hand, it’ll seem sh
e’s watching over us.”
“Like my ma. Sometimes I smell her perfume.”
“I surely wouldn’t doubt it.”
Heaven must’ve had powerful need of livening up to have left them so bereft. Lord knows spouting Grandpappy’s sayings would put big smiles on all the angels’ lips.
“Maybe you should close the café for a day or two,” Curley said, dropping by around sundown.
“Can’t afford it.” Laurel pushed a strand of hair from her face. “This business is our means. And it helps to keep busy.”
Unless Taft had other plans.
“But, Curley, do you mind staying close?” Anger turned him beet red when she told him about Taft and Vallens.
“Those jackals! I’ll set up a bed in the kitchen.”
With the café locked tight and Curley snoring downstairs, Laurel felt relatively safe…from most things.
Ollie’s gamin features poked from each shadow, while the scent of the pipe swirled in the still air. Fresh grief rose.
Then steamy recollections of a different sort entered the mix to keep her eyes from closing.
Silvery moon rays scampering through the window. Hard muscle sliding over hers. The crooked smile of a shameless rebel with gray eyes. All those memories brought tiny shivers.
And an ache for tender caresses unlike any other.
Thirty
“I swore I heard that funny little cackle of Miss Ollie’s.” Adeline set an armload of plates next to the bucket of hot soapy water. “Hard to believe we buried her yesterday.”
Pain between Laurel’s shoulder blades reminded her of how time dragged. She redoubled efforts on hardened stew in the bottom of the pot. She’d hid in the kitchen, assigning the girl dining room duty, thinking it might somehow be easier. Not so.
Danger lurked in the moonlight. Eyes watched, waiting.
And where had Hannibal gone?
Odd he hadn’t scratched to get in since Curley let him out.
“Looks like you’d have more than enough to busy yourself with. Customers to satisfy, floors to sweep, tables to clear, mice traps to set.” Laurel was instantly ashamed. Although she missed Ollie in every way possible, so did Adeline.
