Langley’s voice grew tight, but he forced himself to continue as he stared up at the rough planks on the ceiling. “And Lord, I pray that if pa does die, if You decide that now is his time, could You please let him into heaven? I know he’s done some bad things in his life and some things that are pretty hard to forgive, but he always did right by me and mama and Kaitlyn too. Mama needs to be with him again someday and I’d sure like to see him again too and if he dies then that’ll have to be in Heaven. I know You can hear me, God, and if You just grant me that one wish, I’ll never ask You for anything again. Amen.”
Langley curled up beneath his covers and let his pillow dry his tears. He heard Uncle Jeremiah come inside and tell his mama to get some sleep. He heard his mama curl up on the couch and then the door opened and closed again letting him know that Uncle Jeremiah had gone back outside.
Langley fell asleep with prayers for Marston echoing in his mind. Prayers that God would forgive his pa and let him into heaven so that Langley, Kaitlyn, and mama could see him again someday.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jeremiah was up with the dawn the next morning after a sleepless night in the rickety rocking chair on the porch of Rose’s ramshackle cabin. Jeremiah jabbed his fingertips into his temples and rubbed hard as if hoping he could stop his mind from thinking.
He had failed his little brother.
No matter how many times the duo had stolen from one another, hurt one another, cursed each other’s souls to the fiery pits of hell—Jeremiah loved his brother with all his heart. Marston might have been the larger of the brother’s, but Jeremiah had been older and it had been his duty to see his brother stayed safe…
Now Marston was going to hang.
Jeremiah gripped the arms of the rocking chair until splinters pierced his skin. He had wanted to leave last night, to go to Marston, but Duke had forced him to stay here, reminding him that Marston would want his wife and children looked after and kept safe.
Did Jeremiah want an instant family? Hell no. But he owed it to Marston to at least get them to the Dakotas and settled into their new home and so that’s what he was going to do.
Jeremiah stood slowly and stretched his stiff and aching back as he looked out over the dew covered grass and misty woods. Part of Jeremiah wanted to stay right here and face Vincent down whenever the man showed up. But facing down Vincent, his brother and whatever men they had with them would do nothing other than possibly get Rose and the children hurt or killed and that was something that would bring Marston out of his grave and looking to bring Jeremiah back to hell with him.
What Jeremiah hated the most about this whole mess was that Marston was going to go down with a rope around his neck and a bag over his head. Marston deserved an outlaws death. He deserved to die standing toe to toe with the law and his gun blazing. He deserved to have his heart cease beating as he fell to the ground in a pool of blood that wasn’t only his.
Marston didn’t deserve to go down as a broken necked spectacle. Then again, maybe his neck wouldn’t break and he would slowly choke to death as his body twitched, his tongue swelled and his face turned blue….
The horribly detailed scene in Jeremiah’s head was cut short when Rose burst from the cabin. She ran to the outhouse and slammed the door as she disappeared inside. Jeremiah heard her losing her stomach inside and wondered what he was supposed to do. He wasn’t any damn good at taking care of someone.
Marston would have probably gone to her and held her hair back but that wasn’t Jeremiah’s way so he simply stood on the porch and shifted his feet as he waited for her to come out. It took nearly ten minutes and her face was a nice shade of green.
Rose wiped the sleeve of her worn dress across her mouth and attempted to smooth her messy red curls which were contrasting sharply against her pallor.
“You gonna make it?” Jeremiah quipped.
Rose’s head snapped up and the glare her blue eyes fixed him with had him back peddling. “I mean.. uh… are you okay?”
She nodded but instead of softening her gaze simply turned sad. “I’ll be fine.”
It was Jeremiah’s turn to nod as he headed toward the door. “Good. Come in and cook us some breakfast and then we’ll get everything packed up and head out.”
Rose stomped barefoot across the damp grass and shoved past Jeremiah as she strode into the cabin. She felt like death warmed over, but that wasn’t stopping Jeremiah from barking out orders. He still expected her to cook and pack!
Rose scolded herself. Of course, she was expected to do those things. The world wouldn’t stop for her upset stomach or her broken heart. She had simply gotten spoiled during her time with Marston.
Jeremiah watched Rose storm inside and he decided against joining her. He didn’t understand much about women, but it was clear she wasn’t in a great mood and he wanted to avoid that. Not that he could blame her for her foul temper. Hell, she was handling herself better than most woman would in her situation. Most women were weak and would have long ago broken, laid down and refused to move again but not Rose.
Sure she might cry a bit and she might look like someone had ripped her heart out and stomped it in the dirt but she kept moving and Jeremiah respected that. Seeing that side of the woman made Jeremiah understand, at least a little, his brother’s reasons for catching the crazy.
Jeremiah shook his head and headed toward the barn, his boots, and his heart, both feeling as heavy as chunks of lead.
***
Packing up was a somber affair. Due to their lack of many personal belongings, it didn’t take long until their things were loaded into the small cart. Jeremiah found a length of canvas folded in the barn loft and he used it to cover what little the family had to take with them.
“Alright, Langley, you get to ride the brown mare,” Jeremiah said, placing the reins in the boy’s hand.
Langley took the reins but didn’t say a word. As a matter of fact Jeremiah hadn’t heard him say a word all day—he felt worry for the boy grow in the pit of his stomach.
“Rose will drive the cart and Kaitlyn, you can ride beside her,” Jeremiah directed as he swung himself up onto his gray.
“What are we going to do with the rest of the animals?” Kaitlyn asked as she pulled herself onto the cart.
“We’ll give them to Tray and his family,” Rose replied. “We’ll stop by the shop while we’re in town and let him know.”
Jeremiah let his gaze linger on Rose and felt the hint of a smile curved his lips. She was the picture of contrast. She wore a simple blue dress and a white lacy bonnet over her full soft body and curls but with that dress and bonnet she wore Marston’s gun belt around her waist and his bandolier across her chest.
Softness and light contrasted sharply with worn leather and glinting metal.
It felt like Marston was still riding with them—even Langley had a piece of the man at his side with Marston’s big knife strapped to his leg and hanging almost comically past his knee along with his big gray hat atop his head… the hat kept falling forward and Langley kept shoving it back, but he didn’t take it off.
Jeremiah wondered if his brother had realized just how deeply these folks loved him.
Without a backward glance, the group set off toward town and the ramshackle cabin faded into the distance becoming nothing more than a memory.
***
“Thank you, Rose. My family could sure use those critters,” Trey said, wringing his hat in his soot-blackened hands. His eyes were sad as he glanced toward the half of his building that had served as Marston’s gun shop. Rose chose not to glance that way. She didn’t want to see all his tools sitting unused. It made things too final.
Trey sighed. “I was real surprised to hear about Marston… are you doing okay?”
Rose held her head high. “He might have done bad in his past, but Marston was a good man and the man he was during his time here was someone to be proud of.”
Trey nodded. “Marston always did good by me. He was a good
man, good to work around and, hell, he helped me put the new roof on my house so my wife wouldn’t get sicker when it rained.”
“Marston was a blessing,” Rose agreed, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.
“So where are you all heading off to?” Trey asked, sliding his hat back on his head.
Before Rose could respond, Jeremiah stepped forward. “We’re not sure yet,” he said quickly. “They just need a change of scenery.”
Trey shook Jeremiah’s hand. “I understand that. Take good care of them.”
As the family left he blacksmith shop and headed toward the H&H Mercantile, Langley shot an accusing glance at Jeremiah. “Why did you lie to Mr. Trey?”
“I just think it would be best if no one knew where we were going,” Jeremiah replied.
Rose understood. She knew that Trey wouldn’t turn on them intentionally, but men like Vincent and those with him had a way of getting information out of people—it would be best if Trey had no information to give.
“Let’s get our supplies and get gone,” Jeremiah mumbled. “I’d like to cover at least a few miles before we set up camp for the night.”
They stepped into the mercantile and Rose’s defenses instantly raised when Hester sneered at her from behind the counter. “Well, apparently we still have some trash stinking up our town,” she sniffed as she glared at Jeremiah.
“Hester, please don’t be rude,” Rose pleaded, exhaustion filling her. “We simply want to get a few supplies and then we’re leaving Louisiana.”
Hester’s cow eyes widened as she studied Rose. “Are you going into battle?” she asked with a laugh.
Rose sighed as she began to place scoops of jerked beef into a burlap sack. “I couldn’t stand to see Marston’s things packed away. He took such pride in them.”
Hester raised her nose. “Yes, well, I don’t believe I’d be comfortable carrying something that had shed innocent blood.”
Rose tensed and turned her attention to Langley and Kaitlyn. “Children, go wait at the cart.”
“But mama…” Langley countered.
Rose shook her head and fixed him with a stern gaze. The children had been through enough heartache in the last few days and they didn’t need to hear the hate that this horrible woman loved to spread. “Cart now,” Rose repeated.
Langley appeared ready to argue once again, but Kaitlyn took his arm and tugged him toward the door. He reluctantly followed her outside but not before tossing a warning glare at Hester.
“It’s better, truly, for those poor babies that Marston is no longer around,” Hester quipped, fussing with her hair. “A murderer is hardly a good influence for young ones.”
Rose had heard enough. She whirled around and slammed her hands on the counter. “That’s enough!” She was aware of Jeremiah simply standing to the side with his arms cross over his chest.
Hester blinked several times before straightening jars on the counter. “Yelling is hardly ladylike.”
“I can honestly say I don’t care,” Rose assured her. “I have had as much as I am going to take of your hatefulness. Marston was a good man to me and he was a wonderful father and I will not let you say otherwise to his children.”
“Honestly!” Hester huffed. “Those aren’t his children. And that bastard growing in your womb is lucky it will never know its father.”
Something snapped within Rose. She had always strived for peace and hated violence, but just now all she wanted was to take off Hester’s head. Rose launched herself toward the counter, stretching out her hands to wring the woman’s neck.
Jeremiah’s neck snaked around her waist at the last moment and pulled her back, securing her body against his. “Easy there, girl,” he warned. “You’ve got precious cargo in there.”
Rose breathed several deep breaths through her nose as she stared Hester down. Hattie came waddling in from the back. “What’s going on out here?”
Her eyes widened when she saw the way Jeremiah was holding Rose and the way Hester was gloating.
Jeremiah gave her the condensed version of the morning’s events. “Rose came in here to get a few things, but your harpy of a sister can’t keep her mouth closed.”
“Hester! You have to quit being so meddlesome!” Hattie scolded, her chins bouncing and her finger-wagging. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
“I haven’t done a bit of damage,” Hester countered, pulling off her spectacles and wiping them on her apron. “I simply removed a dangerous and wanted man from the streets of our town.”
Rose’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
Hester’s lips curled. “I turned Marston into the authorities of course. I let Marshall Montgomery know exactly where to find the brute.”
Rose sagged in Jeremiah’s arms and he grunted at her sudden weight. Every ounce of fight seeped out of her as she stared at the woman who had helped take away the father her children needed.
“How could you?” Rose whispered as tears gathered in her eyes. “All these years you’ve been so cruel, but this? What have I ever done to deserve such hatred?”
“That man deserves to die for what he’s done,” Hester stated simply as she slid her spectacles back onto her thin face.
Jeremiah took Rose by the shoulders. “Come on now. Let’s get you back outside,” he urged.
Rose put no thoughts into her movements as Jeremiah led her out the door. She couldn’t think—could barely breathe! Jeremiah helped her into the cart and sighed. “You three stay here. I’ll get the supplies.”
“Jeremiah…” Rose whispered, a tear slipping free. “She took him away from us.”
“I know.” Was all Jeremiah said before disappearing back into the mercantile.
***
A nightmare had Rose waking with a start in the middle of the night. She grew tired of these nightmares. Nightmares that had trembling and covered in sweat and unable to find sleep again.
Rose glanced at Langley and Kaitlyn who were curled up beneath the cart sound asleep and slid out of their makeshift bed to walk to the dying firelight. She picked up a stick and began to poke at the fire in an attempt to breathe more life into it.
The day replayed itself in her mind and Rose shook her head. Hester was a monster. Rose had known that the woman hated Marston but she hadn’t realized that hatred had been so strong that Hester would go out of her way to rip Marston from his family and the wife and children that needed him.
And then there was Jeremiah’s reaction to it all… Rose stabbed harder at the fire causing orange ashes to rise into the air. Jeremiah’s reaction had been far too non-violent for the mood Rose had been in. He hadn’t said a word to Hester. He had simply paid for their supplies, loaded them up and driven the family out of town.
What kind of man did that? What kind of man learned who had sent his brother to his death and did nothing?
Speaking of Jeremiah… Rose glanced at the empty bedroll beside the fire and realized he was gone. His horse was gone as well. Had Jeremiah abandoned them? Would he do something like that?
Rose felt fear rising within her, but it was quickly quelled when the sound of an approaching horse reached her ears and Jeremiah rode into camp. He jumped from the gray and removed his hat. The firelight barely illuminated his face, but Rose saw his frown.
“What are you doing up?” he asked.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she replied, dropping her stick into the fire. “Where have you been?”
“I was taking care of a problem.” His frosty voice made her shiver.
“What problem?”
“A rat problem. A rat with big eyes and a nasty disposition. I wondered if there’d be a fight, but she went down pretty easy.”
Rose frowned, wondering if the man had lost his mind, and then realization dawned on her. Jeremiah stepped forward slightly and she saw the blood splattered across his threadbare shirt.
Hester was dead.
Rose’s knees weakened and her hands shook. Jeremiah had murder
ed a woman and he didn’t seem the least bit sorry to have done so. When his eyes met hers, Rose saw a level of coldness and detachment in them that she had never seen in Marston’s.
“Get some sleep, Rose,” he urged, tipping his head toward the cart. “We need to get a lot more grown covered tomorrow.” Without another word, Jeremiah grabbed his saddlebags off the gray and walked into the woods.
Rose wasted no time in getting back to her bed. She curled up on blanket upon the hard ground and tried to calm her racing heart. What frightened her more than Jeremiah’s actions and even his lack of remorse, was the fact that knowing Hester was dead made her happy..
Happy!
Maybe Rose was a monster.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Marston clicked his swollen tongue against the roof of his dry mouth several times in a wasted attempt to get a bit of moisture. He rolled his shoulders to ease his aching muscles, but that only served to aggravate the seeping wounds that the Marshall’s whip had placed on his flesh.
That was the last time Marston would call the man an inbred, no-brained, ball-less coward.
‘No it won’t,’ that voice in his head countered and instead of arguing, Marston nodded in agreement. As a matter of fact, Marston had a whole new batch of insults he’d been stringing together in his head all day just waiting on the Marshall to pop his head back in.
Without giving much thought to his motions, Marston leaned his back against the cool stone wall and leaped away from it with a curse and a hiss. He contemplated ramming his head into those unforgiving stones until he died—surely that would hurt less.
Marston could smell the infection in his back and he knew that given time, the fresh bloody stripes across his chest would be the same. He was battling a fever, a headache, and exhaustion.
Give My Love to Rose Page 27
