Her life had been disrupted enough. It was best she knew nothing about his rage toward Zachariah, a fury ever boiling beneath the surface.
He’d be gone soon enough, but Mother still needed to be cared for. He looked at the silver-tipped Clayton, a mild-mannered, well-established man to whom a son could entrust his mother. But although this bachelor was past his prime, he was still ten years too young for Mother.
As though he suspected what Nate was thinking, Clayton cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two to work out the details. I mean…where to put things.” He left.
“Well. I’ve got to start putting things in their proper place.” Tears dried, Mother started placing the pots and dishes on the kitchen shelves. Meanwhile, Nate looked around him at the clutter he’d be sleeping in tonight—and she’d be living in forever.
He squeezed between a dining table covered with boxes, a settee occupied by a bookcase, and after moving a Chinese vase from it, settled in a winged chair. He shook his head at the mess. If only Mother weren’t so stubborn about keeping everything, she could have herself a lovely home.
A lovely home.
On the other extreme, there was Hattie living in that old shack with barely a bed, a stove, and a cooking bench. Hattie who’d known so little all her life. But soon there’d be plenty for her, beyond her dreams.
Unlike backwards Ramsden, Boston was alive with crowds bustling on the sidewalks, horsecars waiting at the ready, and newspaper boys shouting the day’s headlines. Even the nights were alive with streetlamps that illuminated the brick facades of three-story houses, one of which belonged to Nate.
Two gnarled maples shaded the stairs of his house during the summer and shed crimson leaves on the walkway during fall. A chandelier hanging in the foyer immediately impressed his guests. There were floor cloths from France, a fireplace with a marble mantel, and his bed was made of ornately-carved walnut. The house boasted twelve large rooms. And each one echoed his loneliness.
Although he’d always carefully chosen his clothes and ached at the rags Hattie wore, dressing a house was a different matter. The house needed her to select the furniture, pillows, and curtains that would fill the rooms with things she liked. The house needed her to transform it into a home, and he wanted to see something of her in every thread.
He leaned back in the chair, imagining himself on the landing of his house with Hattie, his bride. He’d thrust open the door and say to her, “This is where you’ll live now, my exotic princess. Make it your castle.” Then he’d carry her over the threshold. Warmly content with the awe he imagined on her face, he crossed his ankle over his knee.
But first things first. He’d formally ask her to marry him, plan a special event.
Event? Hearing Hattie say yes to his proposal would be more like a holiday.
But meanwhile…
“Nate, will you help me with this?”
Rushing through the clutter and into the kitchen, he found his mother trying to lift the cast iron frying pan their cook had used back when they were a family of four. Nate heaved it onto the shelf.
Another bulky impracticality.
Mother sighed. “So much work to do, and with church tomorrow…”
Church? Yes, Hattie was now a church-going woman and would require the same of him. He didn’t mind going to please her—but there was someone else who wouldn’t be so thrilled.
Cadwell. He was courting her; Nate had seen them together.
That Hattie had lost interest in Cadwell didn’t mean he’d lost interest in her. She was a woman a man wouldn’t give up easily. So what would Cadwell do if he saw them together?
He’d already threatened Nate once.
~*~
Sunday morning, a breeze ruffled Hattie’s skirt and shawl as she stood by Nellie in the churchyard
Nate rode up with his mother and helped Mrs. Powell down from the wagon. The woman was so refined in everything she did, from the way she offered her hand to Nate to the way she greeted her lady friends with a kiss on the cheek. Nate tended to their horse and then offered to help Hattie with Nellie, but Hattie did it herself. Nate lowered his helping hand. “Is something wrong?”
She cast a glance at his mother talking—rather, chatting—with Prudence, a doctor’s wife and a lady as fine as Mrs. Powell. Wasn’t that what a real lady did? Hattie had become accustomed to taking up a hammer and fixing things herself, from nailing down a loose barn board to climbing onto a leaky roof and patching it. Nate,” she said, “I don’t think I can act like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a helpless damsel.”
“You wouldn’t be the Hattie Brown I knew if you did.”
She hung her head. Her past crept up on her, because the Hattie Brown he’d known was the hardened saloon girl who’d enticed men to drink and then stopped them from shooting up the place when they’d gotten too drunk. Although the Lord had cast her past into the “sea of forgetfulness,” now and then it popped up on her.
Nate lifted her chin and gazed at her with eyes as clear as the summer sky. “You should never hang your head.”
If that was so, then she’d put him to the test. “Then you won’t mind if I sit with you and your mother.”
~*~
Nate’s heart pounded. He would have been honored to have Hattie sit with him and his mother, but for Cadwell. Nate had even rehearsed an excuse. “The Reverend will be on a pulpit preaching to half the town. That’s not the time or place for a man to be jilted.”
“Jilted?” Hattie waved a dismissing hand. “I’m not jilting him. I never loved him, and he cares for me as much as he cares about the weather in Alaska.” She looked at Nate with motherly tenderness. “I know you have your…suspicions…about him.” She took Nate’s hand in both of hers. “But there’s nothing to worry about. You know that—right?”
Nate was speechless. Why was she talking to him like a child? Why hadn’t she just told him he was acting downright crazy?
“But you’re right,” she continued. “The Reverend deserves to know that you and I are courting, so I’ll talk to him after church to make that clear as day to him.”
Nate wanted to say that the Reverend had no problem seeing things “clear as day”—not when he could shoot a hole through the knot in a man’s necktie. Nate opened his mouth to offer another excuse, but she cut him short.
“Unless I’ll embarrass your mother.”
The hurt in her eyes said that any more excuses would offend her. And so he offered her his arm and succumbed to the consequences of whatever Cadwell would dole out—and hoped he and Hattie were long gone before Cadwell could dole it out.
~*~
Poor Nate.
Hattie held Nate’s arm as he escorted her toward the church. Her love for him would always include calming his mind. Even though he’d been treated at the asylum, wounds always left scars. “There’s no need to worry about the Reverend. He’s harmless as a cottontail.”
“Mother likes you,” he said as they walked. “That’s why she gave you the dress.”
Hattie touched the skirt. “Giving away your dress is nothing like giving away your son.”
His mother joined them. “Hello, Hattie,” she said. “I hope you’ll be sitting with us.”
“Yes, Mrs. Powell.” Hattie’s heart leaped. “If you don’t mind.”
“I’d like you to sit by me.” In her genteel way, she took Hattie by the elbow and whispered in her ear, “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Hattie received some stares as she and Nate walked inside the church. Why did everyone seem to think she belonged to the Reverend? Nate’s mother arranged them in the pew so that Hattie sat between son and mother. When Nate looked away, his mother squeezed Hattie’s hand.
“Nate’s all I’ve got,” his mother whispered. “And I know he’s deeply in love with you. Make him stay here, Hattie. Make him stay with you in Ramsden.”
The blood left Hattie’s face. Yes, Nate had said he
had a house and a job in Massachusetts. But he wouldn’t expect Hattie to leave Ramsden, would he? She leaned toward his mother, but the opening notes of a hymn, as Lillian started playing the piano, cut their conversation short.
~*~
After singing Bringing in the Sheaves, Nate sat down and braced himself for Cadwell’s reaction. What would he preach about this time? Murder? Thievery? Those were his areas of expertise, weren’t they?
Acting like an oblivious clown, Cadwell stumbled up to an oak pulpit and tapped his sermon notes into a neater stack. He polished his eyeglasses, put them on, and then polished them again.
Nate fidgeted as everyone else waited patiently for this foolery to run its course.
Then Cadwell perched his hands on the pulpit and looked over his spectacles. A bead of sweat trickled down Nate’s collar as Cadwell’s gaze locked his for one searing moment. Cadwell cleared his throat and looked down at his notes. “‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ Matthew chapter twenty-two verses thirty-five through forty: ‘Then one of them, which was a lawyer, asked him a question, tempting him, and saying, “Master, which is the great commandment in the law?” Jesus said unto him, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.’”
Nate tensed. Cadwell wanted to make a point that Nate was sure had nothing to do with brotherly love.
“Please note,” Cadwell preached, “that the man who asked Jesus this question was a lawyer and that his intention was to tempt the Lord, not learn something from Him. In scripture, it was always the experts of the law and religion who tried to set a snare for Jesus.”
Had Cadwell emphasized “snare”?
“But they never outsmarted our Lord.” Cadwell paused. Was he trying to tell Nate that he was too cunning to be outsmarted?
Nate no longer cared about exposing Cadwell. Cadwell was Zachariah’s problem. Nate’s sole concern now was sweeping Hattie off to Massachusetts before Cadwell knew she was gone.
“First John four, verses twenty to twenty-one has more to say on the subject of loving thy neighbor as thyself.” With the exception of that first glare, Cadwell seemed unscathed at the sight of the couple sitting dead center in the third row. “‘If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen?’
“Now we know that God created man in His own image, so look around you at the images of God, brethren. This includes the neighbor sitting beside you, in front of you, behind you−”
“What if your neighbor’s a woman?” Sometimes Nate’s mouth worked faster than his brain, and he regretted speaking.
People sitting around him snapped annoyed gazes at him, including Zachariah, who cast a lingering look.
“Why, that’s a good point, Nate.” Cadwell grinned. “The scripture applies to women as well as men in this respect. Just because God created you ladies…well…um… you know…”
Someone in the pews offered, “Differently?”
Everyone chuckled. They were not only his audience, but his duped allies.
“Just because God created you ladies—” Cadwell’s voice cracked “—differently…well, we all share in the inheritance of Heaven. And so your neighbor includes every man, woman—” he took an unneeded sip of water “—and child sitting here today.”
Every person shares in the inheritance of Heaven except you, Cadwell, because if there’s a God, He’s no lying outlaw. Zachariah’s glare nudged Nate to add, And everyone except me.
Judging by the nods and “amens,” Cadwell knew how to pick his topics.
“First John three, eighteen says, ‘My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.’ In other words, love is more than just talk. Love is action. Love is extending a helping hand to one another when needs arise. Love is doing everything we can to live together as the body of Christ, and doing so with sincerity.” Cadwell read, sipped water, and polished his eyeglasses. “And so brethren—and, um, sisters—I leave you with 1 John 4:11. ‘Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another.’ Can I get an amen?”
Everyone except Nate responded with an enthused, “Amen.”
After the ending hymn, Cadwell stood in the doorway to shake hands and bask in compliments for his excellent performance. And what a performance it was. No other way out, Nate followed his mother and Hattie toward him. How long could Cadwell keep up the act?
Mother reached him first. “You preach a good sermon, Reverend.” She turned to Nate. “Doesn’t he, Nate?”
Nate answered his mother as he eyed Cadwell. “So did Jonah. Am I correct in my recollection that Jonah had ill in mind for them rather than good when he’d preached to the Ninevites?” Nate didn’t forget a thing about anything he’d read.
Cadwell’s eyes gleamed. “You know your Bible.”
Nate glared back. The man was a wolf clothed in sheepskin. “Any heathen can read it.”
“Yes, and a heathen should know that ‘the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow…’”
Was that a threat? “You forgot the rest of the verse…Reverend. Regarding the word of God, it’s also ‘…a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.’”
“We were all heathens once, enemies of God,” Cadwell responded.
Nate remained silent, hoping for the chance that there just might be a God so He would personally dole out what Cadwell deserved.
“Sounds like you’d make a better preacher than me, Nate. I hope you’ll be joining us again.”
In front of the church, Mother chatted with her friends, and Hattie left Nate’s side to head toward Cadwell. “I’ll tell him about us now, like I promised you I would.”
Nate caught her wrist. “Hattie, you don’t have to—”
“Everything’s fine, Nate. There’s nothing to worry about, honey.”
He stepped back. Why was she talking to him like a child again?
Hattie slipped away and talked to Cadwell, although Nate couldn’t hear a word they were saying.
Cadwell maintained his silliness by dropping his eyeglasses.
Would he lose his temper and charge at Nate here? The answer came sooner than expected when Hattie left Cadwell, but was intercepted by Nate’s mother.
And Cadwell headed toward Nate.
Nate took a deep breath.
Cadwell stopped at arm’s length and with an unreadable face, proffered his hand. Others were watching. Nate shook Cadwell’s hand and when he did, the Reverend clamped down on his fingers like the jaws of a Gila monster.
Playing the clown, Cadwell tripped so only Nate would hear what he was about to say.
22
“She’s a good woman,” Cadwell whispered in Nate’s ear. “She deserves someone who can marry her—so long as that man treats her with due respect.” He walked away leaving Nate speechless.
Hattie was right. Cadwell wasn’t in love with her. But if Cadwell had no intention of ever marrying her, why did he court her? Nate chuckled to himself. Because Cadwell knew Hattie wasn’t interested in him either, and so he could use her as part of his act without hurting her in a romance much of the town would cheer on. But why was he acting? And why would an outlaw care about a woman’s feelings?
Nate shrugged it off. Cadwell was a man of mystery, but a mystery Nate no longer had to solve—now that Hattie was his. She and his mother looked as if they were already family as they stood arm in arm talking to Clayton. Nate felt a foot taller as he watched them, and his pride for them spread to his face. But his smile was cut short.
“I understand your mother’s moved in. Is that true?”
He stiffened at the
deep voice he’d hoped never to hear again. What business was this of Zachariah’s? Nate wanted no trouble. “Yes, she’s all set.”
“Then I reckon you have no more business here in Ramsden.”
“Tomorrow I’ll make arrangements to leave.” Nate started to retreat, but Zachariah added one more thing, which stopped Nate in his tracks.
“Stay away from Hattie. If I see you with her again, I will lock you up. Is that understood?”
The conversations around them converged into a solitary hum as Nate’s fingers collected into a fist. How dare Zachariah tell him to stay away from Hattie. She would be Mrs. Powell with or without Zachariah’s high and mighty approval. Who made him king of this sun-scorched empire? Nate stepped toward Zachariah. “Who do you think—”
Hattie latched onto Nate’s elbow. “Who do you think is going to take me home, Zachariah?” She turned to Nate. “Clayton’s horse has a loose shoe, so I loaned him Nellie. Your mother and I have been waiting for you by the wagon.”
Zachariah eyed Nate but spoke to Hattie. “The Reverend’s a good man. You might reconsider—”
“Reconsider what, Zachariah?” Nate glowered.
“Reconsider what’s best for her,” Zachariah glowered back.
“And by being the sheriff,” Nate said, “you just happen to know what that is.”
Hattie tightened her grip on his arm as if she were not only holding him back but holding him together.
“I know what isn’t best for her.”
If bullets could have shot out of his eyes, Nate would have filled Zachariah with lead.
“I love you like a brother, Zachariah.” Hattie shook her head. “But I have a mind of my own and speaking to the Reverend was my mind, not Nate’s.”
Zachariah crossed his arms. He didn’t like that one bit. There was something else he would like even less.
“She asked me to take her home, Zachariah,” Nate said. So how can you arrest me in front of her for doing that? Nate savored the sweet defeat as Zachariah clenched his jaw. But by the glare in Zachariah’s eyes that defeat was only temporary. Although Cadwell had given up without a battle, Zachariah was apt to put up an entire war.
Divided Heart Page 13
