Hearts and Spurs

by Linda Broday

  “Your mother lives here?”

  “She’s back east, Miss Henry. All of my family is in Philadelphia.”

  “Except for their black sheep son, here.” Jericho escorted Mary to the settee before she collapsed at his feet. Grief and exhaustion dulled her beautiful eyes. “Are the girls asleep?”

  She accepted the brandy and took a tiny sip of the warming liquid before raising her gaze to Jericho. “All but Virginia. In spite of continued pain, she refused to take another single drip of that vile brew—her words—so I sat with her until she told me to stop hovering.”

  “That’s my Ginny.” Jericho waited until Matt returned before resuming his seat.

  She set her glass aside. “Obviously you know the girls better than I.”

  Jericho met her gaze. “I was hired as extra security for their wagon train and was assigned to ride with the group of wagons they traveled in. I spent a lot of nights at your family’s fire on the trip out from Saint Louis. Your brother and his wife were kind and generous people.”

  He watched Mary’s throat work as she battled back tears that made her blue eyes seem huge in her pale face. When she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, he knew his time for avoiding the truth was over.

  “What happened, Mr. Hawken?”

  Self-loathing threatened to choke him. “I’m not sure.”

  She glanced at Matt, then returned her piercing gaze to Jericho. “I don’t understand. Did it happen at night? Was it too dark for you to see?”

  He gulped down the liquid in his glass and carefully set the crystal aside when he wanted to hurl it against the stone hearth. “I wasn’t there.”

  “Where—”

  “I was in jail.”

  The tiny bit of color the brandy had given her drained away. “What!”

  “You can’t hate me more than I despise myself, Miss Henry.” He rose and prowled the room. “I saw—someone I knew. From my past. Someone I thought never to lay eyes on again. It’s no excuse, but I got drunk. When the law decided I needed to extend my stay in their little town, the wagons went on without me. I followed as soon as they let me go. I was only a couple of hours behind, but… It was one hour too long.”

  Matt took up the narrative when Jericho fell silent. “A wheel broke on your brother’s wagon, flipping it and trapping the girls beneath.”

  “That much I learned from Virginia.” Her voice was flat. Hurting.

  Jericho faced her. “The raiders must have been almost on them when it happened. Being under that wagon bed saved the girls.” He closed his eyes as memories of the savagery loomed. “But no one else was left alive.”

  “You should have been there, Mr. Hawken.”

  Jericho thought he knew self-loathing, but, when her voice broke on his name, he wished himself to hell. Considering it just punishment, he faced her wrath, let her bury him in anger and disgust. It was the only thing he had left to give her.

  She rose and crossed to stand boot to boot with Jericho. “Celebrating with someone from your past was more important than those people in the wagon train?”

  “I wasn’t celebrating,” he defended, in spite of his vow to accept whatever judgment she passed.

  “How could you shirk your duty in such a reprehensible manner? My brother would be alive if not for you!”

  “No, Miss Henry.”

  Mary whirled on the sheriff. “Don’t you dare contradict me! You weren’t there, Sheriff. Neither of you were there when my family needed you. And now he’s dead. They’re all dead!” She ran from the room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the leaded glass.

  ****

  Mary swiped at tears with the back of her hand. What kind of man got drunk when he was responsible for the lives of others? Storming down the street, Mary called Jericho every vile name she could remember under her breath. It wasn’t until she reached the doctor’s home that she realized the object of her ire kept pace behind her. “What do you want? Wasn’t destroying my family enough? Now you have to accost me in the street?”

  Jericho flinched, but didn’t deny her accusations. “You’re unfamiliar with the town, ma’am. I wanted to be sure you reached your destination safely.”

  “That’s more than you did for my brother, Mr. Hawken.”

  Jericho remained silent, his gaze on the hat he slowly rotated in his hands.

  “He was all I had left.” Mary’s voice broke. “Why couldn’t you have kept him safe? He was coming for me. Finally, I would get out of that town, away from the pity and…” Why was she telling him this? He had no right to her secrets, her private fears and hopes.

  Jericho closed the distance between them, pulled a starched white handkerchief from his vest pocket, and gently dried the tears still coursing down her cheeks. She felt the heat of his skin though his fingers never touched her. Concentrating on the cloth glowing in the moonlight, Mary struggled to regain control. She’d spent years hiding her emotions—hiding herself, but this man made it impossible, which only fueled her anger. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”

  Jericho’s hand dropped and he stepped back. “I can only say I’m sorry. I can’t bring them back.” He stared into the shadows beyond the house. “I’d trade places with your brother if I could.” Pressing the handkerchief into her hand, he touched two fingers to his hat and walked away.

  “You shouldn’t blame him.”

  Gasping in fright, Mary whirled to find fifteen-year-old Virginia standing in the open doorway, her spun-gold blond hair in a braid that fell past the sash of her borrowed dressing gown. The sling around her left arm shone starkly white against the blue fabric. “What are you doing out of bed?” Mary climbed the stairs and shepherded her eldest niece back inside.

  “I couldn’t get comfortable.”

  “Perhaps you should consider a few drops of—”

  Ginny refused the offer of something to dull the pain. “There was nothing Mr. Jericho could have done, Aunt Mary. If he’d been there, they’d have killed him, too.”

  “We can’t know that for certain.”

  “I do.” Ginny rubbed her injured arm. “They killed everyone—for no reason. I didn’t know anyone could shoot that many times. It was so loud you almost couldn’t hear the screams.” She looked at Mary with blue eyes gone nearly opaque with remembered horror. “I could, though,” she whispered. “I covered Carolina’s ears so she wouldn’t, but I heard them. They went silent, one by one, until I could make out individual voices.”

  Tears coursed down the girl’s face. “Mama was last. She screamed for Papa before they shot her, too. Then they broke everything in the wagons, fighting over the money they found, laughing about the stupid sod busters who didn’t know a rifle from a plow handle… I’m going to learn the difference.”

  The last was said so quietly, Mary had to replay the words in her mind to grasp her niece’s meaning. “Sweetheart, you shouldn’t—”

  “I have to. It’s the only way I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  Mary crossed to wrap Ginny in a gentle hug. “All right. Then we’ll learn together.” They sat together for a time, listening to the night insects chorus through the open windows.

  “I was so scared they would find us,” Ginny quietly continued. “When they finally rode away, I tried to get out from under the wagon, but I couldn’t.” Her gaze was haunted. “I thought we were going to die, too.”

  “Oh, baby, no,” Mary whispered, gathering her close. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Mr. Jericho dug us out and brought us here.” The child sighed and settled against Mary’s shoulder. “Please don’t be mad at him any more.” Ginny suddenly straightened. “Where will we go now? Do we have to go back to Solution?”

  It wasn’t lost on Mary that her niece didn’t say back home. Evidently the good people of Solution, South Carolina, had been no kinder to Virginia than they’d been to her. It was why Arthur had so easily captured her heart. Mary thought he’d represented escape. Freedom. Instead he’d proved to be her ruin.

 
; “Aunt Mary?”

  Mary pulled her mind from the mire of the past. “What, sweetheart?”

  “Do we have to go back?”

  When Mary shook her head, her niece smiled, the curve of her lips so reminiscent of her father that Mary had to fight back more tears. “I’m glad. They weren’t at all nice to Papa.”

  Or to you, I imagine. How well Mary knew the treatment Ginny had suffered because she wasn’t born in that sanctimonious little town.

  “Aunt Mary, where will we live?”

  “With me in Thankful. I have a cottage that is provided with my position as teacher. It isn’t very big, but we’ll manage. Your sisters will do well in the small room that I’ve been using as a study and you can share my room with me. With a little rearranging, we’ll fit in all your things. I’m sure of it.”

  “There wasn’t much left after the raiders got finished, but Mr. Jericho brought back what he could find.”

  Mary was torn between pleasure at his thoughtfulness and anger that he hadn’t been there to prevent the tragedy in the first place. But, if he had been, he might be dead. As he deserved, she argued. Didn’t he?

  “I’m so glad he found Petunia.”

  Mary focused on Ginny with difficulty. “Who’s that?”

  “Carolina’s very favorite possession. It was Mama’s new pincushion. It’s shaped like a little pig, you see, made of red velvet and filled with sand, but Carolina couldn’t bear to see a pin poked into it. She would wait until Mama put her sewing away then sneak in and pull out every single pin and needle and toss them on the floor. The third time Papa stepped on a pin we’d missed picking up, Mama gave Petunia to Carolina.” Ginny laughed, a girlish sound full of fondness. “Mama said she’d just make do with her old cushion, else Papa would never be able to go about in his stocking feet.”

  The memory was a good one and Mary was grateful to have it. Her own mother had died when Mary was quite young, before simple memories of daily living had been made.

  “Do you like Mr. Jericho, Aunt Mary?”

  “I—I don’t know him well enough to have an opinion.” Liar, Mary thought.

  “But he’s—”

  “You need to get some rest,” Mary interrupted. “We’ll organize your things in the morning and make arrangements for a wagon to take all of us to Thankful just as soon as you’re ready to travel.”

  “Mr. Jericho could take us there, Aunt Mary. May I ask him? Please?”

  Mary sighed. The girl was relentless. “That won’t be necessary, Ginny.”

  “But, why? He’s so very nice and the children are fond of him and—”

  “That’s enough, Virginia,” she snapped, immediately regretting her words when Ginny’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sure Mr. Hawken has other responsibilities. I will get us to Thankful without his assistance. Now, go to bed.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Good night.”

  She waited until Ginny disappeared up the steps then dropped her face into her hands. With a few ill-chosen words she had managed to destroy the fragile friendship building between them. But, really, how could the child trust a man like Jericho Hawken?

  Because he’d saved them. When all around the girls had become madness, Jericho Hawken appeared like an avenging angel to sweep them up and carry them to safety. And Mary was indebted to him for that, at least.

  Mary checked that the fire was banked and lit the stub of candle Martha had left for her, blew out the last lamp, and made her way to her own bed. With every step she wondered who from Jericho Hawken’s past was so important he would sacrifice the innocent to celebrate their appearance?

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I’ll get it.” Georgia’s longer legs carried her to the front door before her sister could reach it.

  “I wanted to answer it.” Carolina’s lower lip poked out in a pout.

  “You’re too little,” Georgia snapped.

  Carolina’s lips thinned into a mutinous line. “Am not. Take it back.”

  “That’s enough, girls.” Mary waded into the impending quarrel. “Georgia, you may not open that door. Carolina, proper young ladies do not pout. I want you to go back and finish packing. Both of you.” The clipped order told Mary just how close to losing her own temper she was. It had to be worse for two tired little girls uncertain of their future.

  Tucking a loose strand of hair back into the simple knot she’d created that morning, Mary opened the front door. “Good aftern—” Her greeting died away. “Mr. Mansfield. What are you doing here?”

  “Miss Henry.” The short, rotund mayor of Thankful, Missouri, and the president of its school board, stood, sweaty and unsmiling, on Doctor Bittner’s front porch.

  “Won’t you come in?” Mary stepped back to allow him inside, but he held out a letter instead.

  “That won’t be necessary. This will explain. It’s for the best, of course.”

  Mary took the letter but didn’t open it. “I don’t understand.”

  “Read the letter. I brought your things.”

  Confused, she glanced beyond the man to a wagon half full of boxes and trunks. “That’s my steamer trunk.”

  “Yes, I brought your belongings. Read it,” he insisted, then folded his arms and settled in to wait.

  The letter was quite succinct. Your services as teacher are no longer required. “Mr. Mansfield, I don’t under—”

  “A more suitable teacher has been located and will begin with the children in the fall.”

  “More suitable? What have I done that was deemed unsuitable, Mr. Mansfield?”

  “You’ve been gone for more than two weeks, Miss Henry, and in the middle of the school year.”

  “My eldest niece required time to recuperate from her injuries. We’re packing to return this week, in fact.”

  “Too long, Miss Henry. Entirely too long. Besides, he’ll be much better for the children.”

  A chill that had nothing to do with the slight breeze shivered through her. “Who will be better, Mr. Mansfield?”

  “My future son-in-law, of course. Educated out east. Taught the youngsters of some of the finest families.”

  “Future… But the school board was adamant that, as Thankful’s teacher, I remain unmarried.”

  “As a woman, of course, you had to be unencumbered. But it’s different for a man.”

  “Especially if he’s marrying the mayor’s daughter,” she ground out.

  He tucked his chin into the folds of his neck and glowered from under heavy brows. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me, Mr. Mansfield. It seems I’m only unsuitable because I was required to suddenly leave town to care for my family.”

  “That was two weeks ago, Miss Henry. Children cannot tolerate such an interruption to their schedules.”

  “The school year was nearly over, sir,” she protested. “We had only the final testing and the presentation of our play to complete.”

  “Neither of which were you there to do, Miss Henry.”

  Suddenly, she understood. “And your daughter was looking forward to her leading role in the drama.”

  “Quite. Her last hurrah before marrying and taking her place in society.”

  Society? In Thankful? It was all Mary could do to maintain dignity and not laugh in his self-important face.

  “Here is the pay you are owed for the school year. You will note the board very generously decided not to retain any of the funds for the weeks you missed.”

  Then again, perhaps dignity was overrated. “Thank you.” She snatched the money from his hands and stuffed it into the pocket of her skirt. “I wish your darling princess—I mean your daughter much success.”

  Turning her back on a sputtering Mansfield, Mary slammed the door and snapped the lock just for spite. Of all the mean-spirited, self-serving— She was halfway up the stairs before a thud reminded her Mansfield planned to unload her belongings on the porch. Everyone in town would know what happened in a matter of minutes. Hurrying back to the door, s
he wrenched it open in time to see Jericho Hawken go toe-to-toe with the mayor.

  “No longer required? You fired her for caring for her only surviving relatives? What kind of bull droppings is that?”

  “This is none of your concern, sir. Step aside.”

  “Mr. Hawken,” Mary tried to intervene.

  “Stay out of this, ma’am. No trumped-up politician is going to steal your livelihood when you’ve done nothing his own wife wouldn’t have done under the circumstances.”

  Mansfield puffed out his chest. “My wife would never have left the children unattended, sir.”

  “Only because she has a husband around to tend them for her,” Jericho shot back. “But I’ll bet you’d have fired Miss Henry had she dared to get married.”

  Mansfield reared back in horror. “Married women do not teach school.”

  Mary hurried to grab Jericho’s arm before his fisted hand found its way into Mansfield’s face. For an instant, the warmth radiating through the cloth of his shirt distracted her, but the tick in his jaw muscles said his patience was exhausted. “Please, Mr. Hawken. I do not want this discussed on the doctor’s front lawn. The Bittners have been too kind to my family to embarrass them.”

  Jericho didn’t quite relent, but he didn’t knock Mansfield into the flowerbed, either. “You take her belongings to the last house on the left, that end of town.” He jerked his chin in direction. “Unload everything in the front parlor. I’ll be there shortly to help.”

  Mansfield stepped wide around Jericho then hurried to climb into the wagon. Snapping the reins, he set the mules into motion with a jerk. Mary waited until the man was out of earshot before rounding on Jericho. “Thank you, Mr. Hawken. You have now managed to destroy everything I held dear.”

  Jericho looked at her, toward the retreating wagon, then back at her. “By chasing off that overbearing, puffed up—”

  “Because of your negligence, instead of reuniting with my brother in Thankful, I was forced to absent myself from my schoolroom. I now have no job, no means of support and no home for my nieces. My brother’s daughters are homeless orphans and it’s all your fault.”