A lone man who’d been watching from the crowd slowly approached. She assessed the dirty bandana tied around his neck, denims, and feed-sack shirt. A drifter—or someone who lived on the trail. “I don’t think you want to lose the contents of that box, ma’am,” he said.
Trinity nodded. She couldn’t risk losing Pauline’s personal effects, especially if there was a deed in there.
She opened her mouth to speak and then stopped, looking at the man more closely. He was the spitting image of Rob. Same sandy red hair, hazel eyes, and fair complexion. Freckles dotted the stranger’s forearms. And he was about the right age…
He met her eyes. “You’re Trinity, aren’t you?”
He knew her name. She faced the man. James Franklin. She barely remembered her father, but there was no doubt in her mind that this was the man who had ridden away one day and never come back. The man who’d locked her in the cellar to punish her. The man who’d made her terrified of water. The man who’d helped to give her life.
“What did you do with Ma?” Her words held more accusation than question.
“She died that day.” He didn’t need to clarify which day he was speaking of. “Can we talk somewhere?”
The crowd was starting to disperse, evidently sensing that the spectacle was over. The dented, bullet-ridden box lay upended on the ground, still unopened. The smithy bent and picked up his crowbar and pickax before he disappeared into the livery.
“You and I have nothing to discuss.”
“You may not want to hear what I have to say, and I’ll understand if that’s your choice. But you deserve to know what happened that day. Will you spare me ten minutes?” Her father held out a chapped hand. “That’s all I ask.”
Ten minutes. That was all the time he needed to explain the last fourteen years? Ten minutes? She and Rob had longed for a ma and pa. Childhood. Proper food on the table. Proper clothing and schooling. What could possibly make a father leave his two children and never return?
If he could clarify that in ten minutes, she would grant his request.
Twenty-Two
Why were you searching for Pauline’s bank box?” Trinity settled onto a patch of grass behind the smithy and set the box beside her.
Her father stood awkwardly in front of her. He seemed hesitant about sitting down. She nodded. “Sit. I have a few minutes.”
He took his place beside her. His discomfort was evident. “I’m working in this area and I remembered that the deed to the property was kept here. I wasn’t sure if she was dead or alive or if anyone had claimed the land, but I rode through there a few days back, looking around. The place seemed deserted.”
“I was staying there until recently. The place was robbed and I had to leave.”
“But the grounds were…”
“Desolate? Grasshoppers took care of what the thieves didn’t.” Though she hardly cared, she felt obliged to ask. “Do you work with the railroad?”
“In a way.”
“What way?”
“Mostly track work.” There was a long pause. “My boy?” he asked.
“Rob? You saw him if you rode through the place.”
“I saw no one.”
“You did. He’s buried fifty feet from the cabin.”
Pain crossed the man’s features. “My boy’s dead?”
“Your boy?” Turn the other cheek, the Good Book said, but that was mighty hard to do when the man who’d slapped hers raw was sitting in front of her. “How dare you call him that? We meant nothing to you.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. I deserve that.”
“Where’s my mother? What did you do with her?”
“She was swept downstream that day. I heard her body was found later.”
That much Trinity knew to be true. The unnamed woman had been buried in a pauper’s grave. “What happened to you? Why didn’t you save her?”
“I can’t swim.” His eyes teared up. “I never learned—though I tried. I’m plain scared of water. I couldn’t do anything but watch your ma being swept away, calling my name, pleading with me to come save her.”
The horror of the story swept over Trinity. How terrified her mother must have been. How hurt that her husband could do nothing to save her.
“I got to the next bank and just started walking. Walked for days, weeks, trying to get the sound of your mother’s cries out of my head. After a while, I came out of my stupor and tried to deaden the pain with liquor. Every day I drank to forget her—and you kids. It was five years before I came to my senses. By then I figured you were better off without a drunk in your life, so I didn’t try to find you. I’m not a good man, Trinity. You were far better off without me. You’ll have to take my word on that.”
Bitterness made her want to strike out. She longed to mock him, to call him a liar, to ask what sort of man would abandon innocent children—but the sincerity and regret in his tone stopped her. Anything she might say, any accusations she might make, he had already made to himself long ago.
“So you came here to claim Pauline’s inheritance.”
“No. I came here to find the box and see that it was delivered safely into Rob’s hands. I’d known of the deed’s existence since I married your mother, and I knew that you didn’t. You were too young. I had no knowledge of Pauline’s whereabouts, and I suspected she was gone. She must be close on a hundred now.”
“Ninety-four.”
He whistled. “She always was a tough old bird.”
Benjamin’s opinion exactly.
James slowly lifted his eyes to meet Trinity’s. Heartache swam in their depths. “I would ask you to forgive me, but I know I have no right to ask it.”
Her lingering resentment melted. Forgiveness. She’d never considered the word in light of her parents. They were dead, and there was nothing to forgive—or so she’d thought.
“Where’s your home?”
“Here. There.” He closed his eyes. “I’m dying, girl.”
She recoiled.
“All those years of drinking and carousing caught up with me. Pain goes away but memories don’t. The doc says my liver’s gone. Seems you can’t do what you want in life and not pay a heavy price.”
“I’m sorry.” And for the briefest moment she really was. He had deprived his children of much, but he’d denied himself more.
He shrugged. “I’ve asked the Lord’s forgiveness. Don’t know how He’ll stand on the matter until it’s my time to face Him in person. I have no answers for the actions I will be held accountable for.”
“Grace is free.”
He looked up, a mist shimmering in his eyes. “Thank you. It’s good to be reminded. I believe and have accepted His Word, but I’m still a bad person.”
Seemed to her she could use a good dose of remembrance herself right now. She had no particular feelings—good or bad—about this man, this stranger. Rob had told her he’d been a heavy-handed pa, but she didn’t associate the term father with anything other than dark cellars and a fear of water.
She lifted her chin. “I forgive you.”
The tears rolled from the corners of his eyes. “Much obliged.” His words struggled past the gravel in his throat.
“And…Pa? When you stand before the Lord you will simply say that you are covered in His blood.” She smiled. “But then, He’ll already know that.”
Shaking his head, he stood up. “I have something I want to give you.”
“You don’t…”
“Yes. I do.” He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet.
“Is it something of Ma’s?” A locket? A piece of her hair? Maybe a tintype? She had nothing to remind her of the woman who had given her life.
“No, nothing of your ma’s.”
They walked side-by-side around the building and she followed him a short distance down the road. Her interest grew with each hurried step.
“Hold up here.”
She paused and watched him disappear into the heavy thicket. Overhead, nuthatch
es chirped and flew in and out of branches. For the second time that day, the thrill of anticipation rendered Trinity heady with expectation.
James reappeared leading a small red mare. Disbelief triggered a scream that shattered the peaceful silence. The mare shied, shaking her heavy mane.
“Sue!” Lunging, Trinity wrapped her arms around the animal and held on tight. “Sue! We thought we’d lost you forever!”
“I saw you comin’ off the train,” her father said. “You look just like your ma. No mistakin’ that red hair. And no mistakin’ the look in your eye when you looked at the fella you were with. I’ve seen that look in your ma’s eyes a million times… back when I was a better person. I heard he was pretty attached to a little red mare, and I thought he’d like to have her back.”
“Back? But where did you find her? She was stolen from the train…”
Her father calmly handed her the reins. “I told you I sorta worked with the railroad.”
“Sort of? I assumed you meant you were with the company.”
“I spend a lot of time on the rail,” he said.
Trinity turned back to the horse, happiness bubbling up inside her. For the moment her father’s life of crime didn’t matter. Jones. She had to get Sue back to Jones.
Clearing his throat, her father reached out his hand. “Thanks for hearing me out.”
They shook. “Thank you,” said Trinity. “You don’t know it, but you’ve given me a gift without measure.”
“I sorta figured this little mare would please you. Didn’t know she was your friend’s.” He glanced at the animal. “One missing horse ain’t going to hurt anyone. The boss won’t ever know.”
“Pa?”
He looked her way.
“Is it true? Are you really dying?”
He nodded. “Everything I told you was true.”
Her heart softened. As bad as his failings were, they could not justify her turning him away at his darkest hour. “Do you have anywhere to go?”
He shook his head. “No. One night I’ll lay my head down under God’s sky and I won’t wake up.”
“How long?”
He shrugged. “Soon.”
She took a hesitant step toward him, and then lunged into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, baby girl. You got a bad break in life, but I never stopped loving you. Or Rob.” The embrace tightened. He smelled dirty and unkempt, but she hardly cared.
The moment passed and she pulled away. “If you don’t…If God decides to leave you here a little while longer, come to Dwadlo. They’re building a new place there for…well, for folks like you.”
His features broke. “You would want me there?”
Want him there? She couldn’t go that far, but she knew she would take care of him for the remainder of his life, if he asked.
“Thank you for telling me what happened.”
He chucked her under the chin, smiled, and then turned and walked away. She followed him with her eyes until he disappeared into the thicket, and then said softly, “Goodbye, Pa.”
The tears started halfway back down the road. The whole emotional exchange with her father had left her dry-eyed and drained. Now, leading Sue and picturing the joy this offering would bring Jones, the emotion swallowed her. Hot tears rolled from the corners of her eyes and dripped off the tip of her nose. The long-sought answer to her parents’ disappearance was solved. How she wished Rob was alive to know. She no longer had to worry why they’d never come home. She and Rob had struggled, but perhaps God’s plan for her was greater than the life she would have had if her father had returned after all. Her life would have been so different if her parents hadn’t crossed the river that morning. But then, God had a way of turning tragedy into blessings.
She reached the café and secured Sue to the post, and then ran up to Jones’s room and burst through the doorway, sobbing. The day had been too much. She couldn’t stem her vacillating emotions.
Jones sat straight up, torn from a sound sleep. “What?”
“Guess what I found.” She caught back a shuddering sob.
He wilted back to the bed and pulled a pillow over his face. “New hat?”
“No. Get up.”
He lifted the pillow and stared at her. “I’m resting.”
“No, really. You have to see this. Just come to the doorway.”
He frowned. “Why are you crying?”
“God is so faithful.”
“Agreed, but why the waterworks?”
“Come to the door and you’ll see.” She crossed the room and helped to ease him into a sitting position.
“I was sleeping,” he griped.
“You won’t be sorry.”
“This had better not be something girlish, like a dress or sweet-smelling soap.”
“Have I ever asked you to do anything frivolous?”
“You’ve asked me to do plenty…”
“Stop.”
He hauled himself out of bed, wincing. Leaning on Trinity for support, he allowed her to lead him down the stairs and to the door of the hotel. She gently eased him in front of her. The bright sunlight was blinding, and his arm came up to shield him from the assault. It took a moment to focus.
The mare stood at the hitching rail, swishing flies with her tail.
Skepticism and disbelief played on Jones’s face. His eyes were fixed on that little red mare. “Sue?”
“My father gave her to me!”
Breaking away, he made his way to the rail as quickly as he could. Sue looked up and whinnied. Approaching the animal, Jones wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her mane.
Trinity leaned against the door, the tears flowing harder. A man and his horse.
Twenty-Three
Late that evening, Trinity and Jones sat on the bottom steps of the hotel and fed Sue handfuls of hay. The moon was bright overhead, even with the town lanterns burning.
Leaning back, she drew a deep breath. “This has been one fine day.”
Chuckling, Jones shifted and stretched out his injured leg. “It’s one I won’t soon forget.”
She’d told him about her father, the brief meeting, and how she held no bitterness. Oh, she regretted the family life she could have had, but it was mingled with relief at having an answer to the long mystery and a recognition that life had turned out just fine in spite of her father’s desertion.
“I wonder how long he has to live,” she mused.
“Only God knows the answer to that, but it was good of you to invite him to Dwadlo. Sounds like you’ve decided to stay there.”
“Yes.” She leaned back, studying the twinkling canopy overhead. “I think I have. I like it there. I love Mae and Tom, and I’ll enjoy whatever time I have left with Pauline.”
“What about that guy at the diner?”
“Who?”
“The fellow in Sioux Falls—the one with the kids.”
“Oh. Him. He comes in pretty often and we’ve had some lively conversations over pie and pot roast but…” She glanced over.
“But what?”
“But I don’t have any real interest in him.”
“When you told me about him before it sure sounded friendlier than pie and pot roast.”
“About as serious as that woman you’ve been trying to court in Chicago. She must be getting pretty tired of waiting on you.”
He shrugged. “She won’t regret the wait.”
She leaned over and poked him.
He fought off the attack. “Feeling feisty tonight, Miss Franklin?”
“Feeling good,” she said. “And you?” He’d seemed to perk up once Sue had been safely returned.
“Better.” His gaze strayed to Sue. “Actually, much better.”
“Do you feel well enough to go for a short ride?”
“At this hour?”
“It must be all of eight o’clock.”
“Dead of night,” he teased. “Sure. Where do you want to take me?”
“You’ll see. Stay here.” She stood and brushed the hay off her shirt, and then started across to the livery. Within half an hour she was pulling to the front of the café in a two-man spring wagon.
Jones struggled to his feet, his eyes fixed on the box-like contraption. “That’s an Amish rig, isn’t it?”
She nodded, grinning. “The only thing they had available.” She motioned to the seat beside her. “Climb aboard.”
He stored his crutches in the back of the rig and heaved his frame aboard.
“You seem to be moving better this evening,” she noted pleasantly.
“I am. It seems I may live after all.”
“That would be nice.”
The buggy took off with Trinity behind the reins. The wheels bounced along the rutted road, following the moonlit path. Tonight she felt free, free and unencumbered. Black-eyed Susans, tick wood, and meadow roses filled the fields as they headed out of town. The short ride was not without purpose. There remained one last piece of business before she and Jones said their goodbyes and she returned to Dwadlo. Watching Jones ride away again would be the hardest thing she’d ever faced, but God had a plan for her life. She was absolutely certain.
Pulling up half an hour later, she sat silently, staring at the scene before her. The reason Pauline, Priss, and their father had stopped here that day so many long years ago was evident tonight. Her family’s land lay bathed in moonlight, which illuminated the gentle hills, tall cedars, ashes, and maples—still noble although stripped bare of leaves. It wasn’t hard to understand why they’d picked this particular spot to lay down roots.
Jones’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I gather this is your land?”
“You don’t remember riding through here earlier?”
He shifted. “I remember water. A screaming lady.” The moonlight caught his naughty grin. “Something about someone who couldn’t swim.”
She allowed his cheekiness to play out. He was a sick man. Her mouth curved into a smile. “Do you remember anything other than your bad behavior that day?”
Under the Summer Sky Page 19
