Heart of Stone

by Jill Marie Landis

  “Look a bit harder and you’ll see her in me. You might even see a little of yourself, Preacher. You don’t know me, but I can see that you remember her—the woman you abandoned before I was born. The woman you deserted because she was Cherokee.”

  Brand’s face drained of color.

  A collective gasp filled the room. No one moved. Seconds ticked by.

  Suddenly from the front pew, Janie’s voice, high and thin, cut through the tense silence.

  “Papa? What’s wrong?”

  Laura couldn’t see Brand’s children in the front row, but she could just imagine their fear and confusion. Charity was seated on the altar with the adult choir. Like everyone else, her gaze was riveted on the young man in the center aisle. Unlike the others, she looked as if she were seeing a ghost.

  Before she realized she’d moved, Laura was on her feet, making her way to the front. Blind to everyone else in the church, she hurried to the end of the front pew where Janie and Sam were watching their father with wide, frightened eyes.

  “Janie, Sam, come with me.” Laura held out her hands and the little girl grabbed one and held on tight.

  “What about Papa?” Sam wouldn’t budge.

  Thankfully, Amelia, steady and calm, suddenly appeared at Laura’s side.

  “Go with Laura, Sam,” Amelia whispered as she scooted into the pew. She took hold of Sam’s hand and drew him toward the aisle. “You, too, Janie. Stay with Laura.”

  “Tell Brand I’ve take them to my house,” Laura whispered. Amelia nodded.

  As Laura quickly whisked the children out the side door, she glanced back. Her breath caught. Brand was moving off the altar, walking toward the armed stranger.

  “What was that man saying to Papa?” Janie wanted to know. “Why is he so mad?”

  “He needs help,” Laura told them, trying to smile. “Your papa will talk to him. Everything will be just fine.”

  Her mind raced, her thoughts focused on Brand as she walked down the street between his children, holding their hands.

  “That man said Papa abamanned his mother. What’s abamanned?” Janie wanted to know.

  “Abandoned. That’s when you leave someone behind,” Laura explained.

  She glanced over her shoulder. She picked up her pace. She could see the handful of people who had fled the church still milling around outside.

  “Is he gonna abanmond us? Where are we going?” Janie planted her feet and refused to budge. “Where are you taking us, anyway? Why can’t we stay with Papa?”

  Laura sighed in frustration. “I’m taking you home with me. Remember Peaches? She’ll be on the porch, most likely. You can pet her.”

  “Don’t be such a baby. Papa won’t leave us for long.” Sam looked up at Laura. “You got anything good to eat?”

  “Lots,” Laura said.

  “With sugar?”

  “Plenty of sugar,” she promised. Rodrigo always had an array of fresh baked goods on hand.

  “See, Janie? It’ll be okay.” Sam let go of Laura’s hand and skipped down the street.

  “Don’t get too far ahead,” Laura called out.

  Janie stuck out her bottom lip, but she started walking again.

  Laura tried to ignore the feel of Janie’s little hand in hers as well as the blind trust in Janie’s eyes. She warned herself to guard her heart and tried to convince herself there were no feelings involved. She had merely acted on impulse to remove Janie and Sam from an untenable situation, that was all. Rushing to their aid certainly didn’t mean she cared for them—or their father—anymore than she cared for anyone.

  Look a bit harder and you’ll see her in me.”

  Brand did see her in the young man’s eyes. Sarah Langley, the woman he had loved so long ago. She had been his first true love, though he’d been too young and foolish to see it then. He’d wooed and won many young women in the wild years of his youth—but unlike the others, he had fallen in love with Sarah.

  As he stared at the young man standing in the aisle—Sarah’s son, his son—Brand was aware of movement to his right. He’d heard Janie’s voice, but was afraid to take his gaze off the young man with the gun.

  A young man whose eyes resembled Sarah’s, except they were cold and unforgiving.

  A few minutes ago, Brand had noticed Laura sitting in the back of the church. His heart had soared. Now she and everyone else in the church was at risk.

  Not only was there a slight commotion to his right, but Brand noticed that Hank Larson had silently slipped around to the back of the church. Hank was in the center aisle, gun drawn, inching his way toward the young man claiming to be Brand and Sarah Langley’s son.

  Brand raised his hand—just barely, but enough to halt Hank in his tracks. The sheriff hovered at the far end of the aisle, unseen by Langley.

  Brand walked off the altar and started slowly toward the youth. He spoke calmly, and in truth, he wasn’t afraid. Whatever happened, his faith was in the Lord.

  “Why don’t we step outside? I’d be happy to talk to you, son.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  The young man appeared at a loss, as if he hadn’t thought past the initial confrontation. His gaze shot around the room, his face paled as if he were aware suddenly of where he was and how many people were watching.

  When Brand reached his side he lowered his voice. “What’s your name?”

  “Jesse. Jesse Langley.”

  “Come with me, Jesse. Please.”

  Brand reached for Jesse’s arm and began to walk him toward the side door. Once they were outside, Brand heard Hank addressing the crowd left in the church. Those who had already slipped out earlier had backed off to a safe distance to see what would happen. Brand ignored them and walked Jesse around the corner.

  As if coming out of a trance, Jesse shrugged off his hold and stepped back.

  “How is your mother?” Brand asked.

  “Dead. She died over a year ago.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “Sorry? If you’re so sorry, why weren’t you there?”

  Brand glanced back at the church. Under Hank’s direction, folks were slowly, silently filing out, heading for the hall. A few stopped to gawk, hanging back to see what would happen. Brand turned away from the stares.

  “Your mother left me. I looked for her, but there was no trace of the Langley family anywhere.”

  Jesse’s stare was hard, unconvinced. “Why should I believe you?”

  Brand spread his hands. “Because it’s the truth. No one could tell me where they’d gone.”

  “That’s hard to believe. It took me almost a year, but eventually I found you.”

  Almost a year.

  Brand stared at the youth. Jesse was near the same age Brand had been when Sarah’s family disappeared. He knew what determination and sheer stubbornness it must have taken the young man to find him. He was proud of Jesse’s effort, not to mention stunned, to finally stand face-to-face with his and Sarah’s child.

  “Come home with me,” Brand said. “We’ll talk this out. You can meet the family.”

  The minute the word family was out, Brand knew he’d made a mistake.

  Jesse’s mouth became a hard line. His eyes narrowed.

  “Your family?” Jesse sneered. “The perfect family, no doubt. The perfect wife. Children too?”

  Brand nodded. “A boy and a girl. Nine and seven.”

  Jesse shook his head. “I’ve got nothing more to say to you, Preacher. Nothing at all. Coming here was a mistake.”

  “You don’t know how many times I thought of your mother, how many times I’ve wondered about our child.”

  “Yeah. So you say. All I wanted was to hear you acknowledge that you knew my mother was carrying a child when you deserted her. I wanted to see the look on your face when I showed up here.”

  “I never deserted her.”

  Jesse Langley looked Brand over and shook his head, disgust marring his handsome features.

  �
��The truth is I came to kill you, Preacher, but as it turns out, looking at you now, you’re not worth the hanging.” That said, Jesse Langley turned and walked away.

  After settling the McCormick children in the kitchen where Anna dished them up a midday meal, Laura slipped upstairs to take off her hat. She washed her face and hands, tried to smooth down her hair.

  The young McCormicks were perfectly happy, full of cookies and milk and surprisingly well behaved for a change. After they ate, Anna put them to work washing dishes. Janie complained that it was Sunday and they shouldn’t be toiling, but Laura assured them that dishes had to be done no matter what day of the week it was. When Sam made himself a beard of soapsuds, she knew they were playing more than working.

  In the drawing room, she paced in front of the window until Brand rode up alone. He tied his horse to the hitching post outside her low picket fence and came up the walk. She stepped outside to greet him, closing the front door softly behind her.

  He looked exhausted. His step was slow, his usual smile was gone. She could tell by the slump of his shoulders that he was troubled by what had happened. She found herself hurrying across the veranda to greet him.

  He paused when he saw her. As she closed the distance between them she found herself tempted to take his hand. The very notion shook her more than his presence.

  “The children are fine,” she assured him. “They’re in the kitchen decorating a cake with Anna.”

  “Are they upset?”

  “Curious. Happy because they’ve had plenty of sweets. How is Charity?”

  “Upset. Lots of folks are. She said to thank you. She was afraid to move.”

  Laura led him up to the veranda where they both paused.

  “I owe you an explanation,” he began.

  “Not at all,” she said. From what she’d heard, she’d pieced a story together. The young man in church had claimed to be Brand’s son, the son of a woman Brand had abandoned. She couldn’t imagine Brand doing anything of the kind.

  But from the suffering on Brand’s face, it was clear he accepted the blame.

  He walked to the white porch railing that surrounded the veranda and leaned against it. He took off his hat, set it on the rail. Looking into the distance, he said nothing. She stood behind him, staring at the back of his coat, at the cut of his sleeve, the wide shoulders beneath the black fabric.

  Always before, he’d been the one to touch her, to take her arm, to gently guide her with his hand riding at the small of her waist, to lift her down from the buggy. He’d been the one to initiate a kiss.

  Now it was she who wanted to reach for him. He was a man isolated in misery. She wanted so much to let him know that he wasn’t alone, that she was there and willing to listen.

  She stepped up beside him and rested her hand on his coat sleeve.

  “Talk if you need to talk,” she said softly.

  Brand nodded. There was a tightness in him, as if he were an over-wound clock.

  “The young man in the church—his name is Jesse Langley. He’s eighteen. He is my son.”

  “You’re sure?” It wasn’t altogether impossible that the young man was lying.

  “I’m sure,” Brand said softly. “He’s the image of his mother—”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “You saw him for yourself, Laura. There’s some of me in him too.”

  The youth had walked like Brand, moved like Brand. He’d even sounded a bit like Brand from what she could recall. She’d been too stunned to take much note in church.

  “Can we walk?” Brand asked.

  She glanced down Main Street and hesitated.

  “Not that way. Around back,” he said.

  She led him around the house, skirting the kitchen windows. If he’d been anxious to see his children he’d have said so. They walked through the rose garden and out beyond the edge of her property where the land opened up and rolled away from town and out onto the open plain. The horizon stretched on endlessly. A slight breeze blew, picked up grains of sand and whipped them into whirling cones that danced across the land and died away.

  She had no hat, no umbrella, but she didn’t care. The breeze teased the curls out of her hairpins. She feared it would become a tangled mess, but right now all that was important was hearing Brand out.

  “He’s been looking for me for months,” Brand said.

  “He’s inherited your stubborn determination.” She paused a moment, wishing he would smile. “Are you sorry he found you?”

  She knew how she would feel if someone walked out of her former life and announced himself without warning. Botsworth had been a close call, but she hadn’t been subjected to public censure.

  Brand shook his head. “I’m not sorry. I always wondered if the child survived. If it was a boy or a girl. I searched all over for Sarah, his mother. After she told me she was carrying my child, her family up and left town.”

  “She left you?” Laura couldn’t imagine anyone willingly walking away from Brand. “Why?”

  “Her mother was Cherokee. Sarah and her family fought hard, trying to fit in. I was more shocked than happy when she told me she was carrying my child. I was only eighteen and never dreamed of settling down so soon. My father would have never given us his blessing. He thought she was beneath me.

  “I wrestled with what to do. When I finally came to my senses and went to ask her to marry me, the Langleys were gone. Their place was deserted.”

  “You never saw her again?”

  Laura read genuine regret in his eyes. “I looked everywhere. No one had seen them. No one knew where they went. It wounded me to the quick knowing that I had a child somewhere, a child I’d never know. All I could think of was how reckless I’d been. How I’d only been thinking of myself, not Sarah, and certainly not the baby. A few months later I enlisted in the Union Army.”

  He stared out over the open plain again. “After the war, I became a preacher and fell in love with Jane. But I never forgot Sarah. I never forgot that I might have a child somewhere.”

  “Until today.” Laura thought of the defiant young man standing in the church denouncing his father before all. “Where is he now?”

  Brand shrugged. “I don’t know. The anger that drove him to confront me went out of him, but not before he admitted he came to kill me—”

  Laura gasped. “Are you safe? Does Hank know?”

  “Jesse changed his mind. He said I wasn’t worth it.”

  “Oh, Brand.” She ached for him, wished there was some way to ease his pain.

  “Hank took over, got everyone out of the church. A lot of folks left right away. A few stayed for the supper. I couldn’t face them.”

  Brand turned to Laura as if really seeing her for the first time since he arrived.

  “I’m sorry I left the children here so long, but when Amelia told me you had them, I knew they were in good hands. I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted with a shrug. “I can’t begin to guess what folks must be thinking.”

  “I’m sure they’ll get over it,” she said. “Aren’t they supposed to believe in forgiveness?”

  “God forgives. People have a harder time of it, especially when a man who stands before them week after week preaching moral fortitude turns out to be a sinner.”

  “You’re human, Brand. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Besides, that was eighteen years ago.”

  “This isn’t something as simple as my lashing out in anger to defend the woman I love. This makes me a hypocrite.”

  She told herself to ignore what he’d just said about “the woman I love.” He was upset. He had no idea what he was saying.

  “Next Sunday, when the church is full, you’ll see that they have forgiven you. They’ll stand behind you.” She tried to smile. “Where’s that faith of yours?”

  “Sorely battered.” Finally, he smiled in return.

  “Let’s go get your children,” she said, quickly turning away. “By now they may have Anna tied to a chair.�
�

  ELEVEN

  It was noon on Monday when Laura walked into the mercantile followed by Rodrigo.

  She told him she would be going along to help with the marketing, but in reality she was curious to hear what, if anything, folks were saying about the incident in church yesterday. She knew Harrison Barker would be dispensing gossip along with dry goods.

  Sure enough, Harrison started asking questions as soon as she stepped into the mercantile.

  “I heard you whisked the McCormick children out of harm’s way yesterday. Is that so?” He paused, cocked his head like a hungry dog waiting for a bone.

  “I took them home with me, if that’s what you mean,” she said. That was no secret. Everyone one in church had seen her leave with them.

  “I’m surprised you weren’t there, Mr. Barker.”

  “We would have been, but Mother wasn’t feeling well. She’s a member of the church board, you know.”

  “I believe I had heard. Do you have any rice?” Laura asked. “I need two pounds.”

  “Was it terrifying?”

  “It was disconcerting.” She sighed. “The rice, please.”

  He went behind the counter for a sack and then walked to the bin and started scooping rice onto a scale.

  “Who’da thought it? A preacher having a child on the wrong side of the blanket. Folks are buzzing about it, believe me.”

  “They must have little else to do.” She hadn’t been there five minutes and already she’d had enough.

  “Does this shed new light on your feelings? I mean, everyone knows you two have been keeping company.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Well, you know, he’s been seen walking with you. Sitting on your veranda. They say a fine, respectable woman like you will surely show him the door now. He’s got a lot of nerve, misrepresenting himself. He should have disclosed the truth straight out when he came here and applied for the job of pastor.”

  She looked around, lowered her voice. “How long does a man have to wear his past sins on his sleeve?”

  “I guess until he gets to the pearly gates, that’s how long.” Harrison set the sack on the counter. “Besides, like I said, he wasn’t forthcoming about it. Now he’s got a mess on his hands. Earlier this morning I heard Bud Townsend wants to call a board meeting to discuss his dismissal.”