The Crockett Chronicles- The Complete Collection

by Jennifer Lynn Cary

  Sarah might as well be naked. This lass clearly saw her flaws.

  “Sarah, I’ve known you my whole life. You’re my friend and you love my brother. You’re just not perfect. None of us are.”

  Tears threatened. She turned away and sniffed. She didn’t want to cry, not now.

  At the touch on her shoulder, she turned. Lucy hugged her.

  “Mary Frances isn’t the only tender-hearted Crockett lass.” Sarah giggled, and Lucy joined her. “Joseph had better change my father’s mind. I need ye for a sister.”

  Lucy squeezed her tighter before breaking off the hug. “I think you would make a fine sister. However, I already have two. Do I really need another?”

  Sarah gave a playful tug on Lucy’s hair, like she’d seen Joseph do earlier.

  “Aye, you and Joseph make a pair.” Lucy chuckled and sat on the floor to play with the little ones.

  Sarah joined the group and helped Wee Joseph to stack blocks. The baby had more interest in pounding the floor, a cube in each hand.

  A shadow passed over the toys, moving to her side. The hair at her nape grew taut and the skin on her arms prickled. Slowly she turned to gaze up, up the lean body to the handsome face she loved.

  Joseph stooped beside her, clasping her hands. His eyes, what did his eyes tell her? “He didn’t say aye, but he is allowing a chance.”

  “A chance? What does that mean?”

  He kissed her fingertips. “It means, dear heart, I have some things to accomplish. If I can, I may call you mine.”

  “Things? What things? I can help, I will help you, Joseph.”

  He held her hands tighter now. “No, Sarah, you cannot help with this. But I love you for wanting to. I can do this, I will do this, for you, for us. Can you wait? Will you?”

  “Aye, aye I will wait for ye. Oh, Joseph, I will wait as long as it takes.”

  As long as it takes.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The tickle started at the back of her throat. Never before had Shannon feared the sensation. God please don’t let me cough.

  She tried gently clearing her throat and breathing through her nose. A cup of water sat on the stand next to her bed. If she could reach it… Wrapping her fingers over the rim, she touched the tepid liquid. Not too full. Maybe if she were careful, she might get it to her lips.

  Slowly, carefully she brought the cup to her mouth. All she needed was a sip.

  The cough erupted just as the water passed beyond her teeth, spewing droplets all over her and the bedclothes.

  Worse, though, was the knife stabbing her chest from the inside. She couldn’t breathe. And she was afraid to.

  Her lungs screamed for air. Shannon gasped only to cough again.

  The mistress burst through the door. “Ma petite.” She helped Shannon sit, gently rubbing her back until the sensation passed. “You are all wet.”

  “Water…spill.”

  Mistress Crockett helped her to the chair. “I will return.”

  It only made sense that she occasionally left. Shannon had been here in this room for four days now. There was much to do in running a household, besides the wake and funeral for Josephine. But now, with the cough, came the fear of something worse, something Shannon prayed she could avoid. Being alone only added to her fear.

  The mistress breezed in, arms full of dry bedclothes and another clean chemise. Miss Mary Frances followed with fresh water. Together they changed the bed and Shannon into dry clothes, making her as comfortable as possible.

  In truth, there was little comfort to be had. Aside from the pain of the ribs and leg, her back ached from the hours of lying in bed, and her head fought a dull throb. At times she thought she might be gaining health, but at other times, like when the coughing started, she feared she might lose the battle.

  Mistress Crockett gathered the damp laundry, taking it out and leaving Miss Mary Frances to stay with Shannon.

  “Would you like me to brush your hair?”

  Shannon nodded and the girl undid the braid.

  “Your hair is lovely, Widow O’Connor. I wish mine were this color.”

  Shannon smiled, thinking she’d rather have the lass’s raven mane. Those blue-black curls, tied back with the satin ribbon were easy to envy.

  Miss Mary Frances’s strokes, gentle as the girl herself, eased some of the headache’s tension.

  The tickle returned. Shannon stiffened, breathing through her nose.

  “Is everything all right? I am not hurting you, am I?”

  The cough would not be stopped. Yet Shannon couldn’t get enough breath to force it all the way out. She wrapped her hands around the binding, desperately trying to hold the stabbing pain at bay. Oh, God, make it stop.

  She heard a clatter and the young miss calling for her mother. Soon Mistress Crockett eased her forward, rubbing her back until the spell finished.

  “She will be well, Mary Frances. You did well to call. I can take it from here, dear heart.” The mistress squeezed her daughter’s hand and sent her back downstairs. Then she picked up the brush from the floor and kissed the top of Shannon’s head before continuing to brush.

  Shannon carefully cleared her throat. “Why?”

  “Why what, Shannon?”

  “Why…you…so…kind,” she cleared her throat again. “to…me?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be kind?”

  She thought until she could form her message with the least amount of words.

  “You…me…not alike.”

  The mistress put the brush down and began the braid. “In some ways we are different and, in some ways,, we are very much the same.”

  “I…Catholic.”

  Mistress Crockett knelt in front of her. “Do you believe Jesus is the Son of God?”

  Shannon nodded.

  “Have you asked Him to come into your heart?”

  “I…pray.”

  “Yes, but is Jesus your Savior? Do you know Him?”

  This was confusing. What was the mistress asking? “When I…was…baby…priest…baptize me.” Shannon closed her eyes, calmed her breathing. “I go…to…mass. I…pray. I…do what… priest…tell…me. Be…good. Believe.”

  “Dear heart, I did the same thing. I tried to be good, the best I knew how. But I couldn’t figure out what was good enough. I thought the bad things that happened to me were due to my not being good enough.”

  “What…you…do?”

  “I finally learned I cannot be good enough. It isn’t possible. If it were possible, I wouldn’t need a savior and Jesus wouldn’t have needed to die on the cross.”

  “I…go…to mass…all…my life.” Shannon paused. Something was missing; something vital she needed, perhaps urgently needed. “What…I…need…t’do?”

  “You only need to realize your need for a savior and ask Jesus to take away the guilt you carry for not being good enough. Then ask Him to be your Savior and Lord of your life.”

  “Will…I…still…be a…Catholic?”

  “If you choose. My dearest friend, Madame de Grillet, is Catholic, but has a deep and close relationship with our Lord Jesus. The true difference is not between Catholics and Protestants. It is between those who know and love Jesus as Lord and Savior and those who don’t.” She cupped her palm to Shannon’s cheek.

  The loving touch spoke volumes. This woman treated her as one of her own, the closest thing to a mother Shannon had known in many years.

  “Would you like to pray together now?”

  Shannon nodded, a tear rolling slowly down her cheek.

  “I’ll say the words for you, and you can nod if you agree. Jesus understands.”

  Shannon blinked and nodded.

  Mistress Crockett took Shannon’s hands and bowed her head.

  Shannon followed her example.

  “Lord Jesus, Your Word reminds us we cannot be good enough, no matter how hard we try. But You have provided for us and paid the price for our sins when You died on the cross. Shannon asks that You forgive he
r sins and wash her clean with Your precious blood. Come into her heart and life and be her Lord and Savior that she may know Your promise of eternity with You. Thank You, Lord, for what You have done, what You are doing, and what You are about to do. We love You, Lord. Amen.”

  The mistress gently hugged her. “Now you are my sister in Christ.” She smiled. “And you will call me Louise from now on.”

  Shannon blushed. “Aye.”

  “Shall I help you to bed or would you rather sit here?”

  “Sit.”

  “Would you like to see Samuel for a few moments?”

  She started to nod but felt the tickle again. Trying to clear her throat, she knew what was coming. Jesus, I need You. Help me.

  The cough erupted ,and the knife stabbed inside. But the fear was gone.

  Louise rushed to her side. “Dear heart, are you all right?” She poured and offered Shannon a drink.

  She caught her breath and nodded. And for the first time since that awful day, she knew she was all right.

  No matter what happened, she would be all right.

  * * *

  “Father I have an idea I want to discuss with you. Will you soon have time?” It had taken Joseph awhile to come up with a plan. Then he needed the confidence to present it to his very busy father. His insides quivered like a wagon on a bumpy road.

  “I have time now. What is on your mind, son?”

  Joseph closed the door to his father’s study and took a chair. It occurred to him that those who controlled his life always seemed to sit on the other side of that desk.

  “I want to get involved in the export part of the business.”

  “You’ve always preferred to work the farming portion. Is there a reason?” His father covered his hand with his own, his gaze giving him full attention.

  “I need to do this. If you agree.”

  Father nodded, remaining thoughtful for a moment. “I believe it might be best if you learn directly from Reverend Fontaine. I received a letter stating he will be here next week. Perhaps you and he can discuss this then?”

  Next week. Nothing around here happened on his schedule. Next week it would be. Joseph would just have to learn that much faster.

  * * *

  Shannon wondered about her cough again. Though she had no more fear of it, she did have concerns about her Samuel.

  Louise had taken to reading the Psalms to her.

  “Sing to God, sing praises to His name; Lift up a song for Him who rides through the deserts, Whose name is the Lord, and exult before Him. A father of the fatherless and a judge for the widows, is God in His holy habitation. God makes a home for the lonely; He leads out the prisoners in prosperity, only the rebellious dwell in a parched land.”

  A father of the fatherless? If something should happen to her, her sweet Samuel would not only be fatherless but motherless as well. She felt lonely far too often and longed for a home. And right now, she literally was a prisoner of her own body. Did God have prosperity for her also?

  Louise didn’t seem to notice that Shannon’s mind roamed. Paying attention again, she heard, “Blessed be the Lord, who daily bears our burden, The God who is our salvation. Selah. God is to us a God of deliverances; And to God the Lord belong escapes from death.”

  Would she escape death this time? Each day her cough grew. When Shannon lay still, she could hear the crackling sounds starting in her chest. Breathing got harder and harder. She spent more time sleeping now than awake. Death didn’t frighten her like before. In truth, death would be a comfort, but leaving her Samuel behind, without a father or mother, broke her heart.

  Tap, tap.

  James peeked his face around the door. “I think Shannon is ready for me to sit with her now.” He winked. “Right, Shannon?”

  She smiled with her whole heart, though she knew it appeared weak.

  “Well, then, I will go and see how things are coming along in the kitchen.” Louise gave her son a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

  James sat in the chair. Shannon could have sworn she saw Samuel sitting on his lap. She blinked only to realize he sat alone.

  With a tender smile, James took her hand. “How are you feeling today?” His lips might be smiling, but his eyes gleamed with worry.

  “Fine.” Her voice croaked so she reached for the cup of water on the stand.

  James grabbed it and lifted her head for the sip. “Thank you.”

  He sat back in the chair and again she saw her Samuel, bouncing on his knee, arms wrapped around James’s neck.

  A father to the fatherless.

  “Do…ye…love…Samuel?”

  “That’s a strange question to ask.” He brushed hair from her forehead. “Yes, I love Samuel. I love him like my own. Why do you ask?”

  “Will…ye…be…his…father?”

  James knelt by her bed and took her hand. “Shannon what are you getting at?”

  “Marry…me. Be…father…to Samuel.”

  “Oh, Shannon, yes, I will marry you. I want to ask you. As soon as you are better. And then we will marry, when you are well again. I will adopt Samuel and be his father. And I will be your husband, and you will be my wife.”

  Shannon shook her head.

  “You don’t want to marry me?”

  She closed her eyes, pulling all her strength to this moment. “I…want…to…marry ye…now.” She grabbed his hand tightly. “It…must…be…now.” Her chest wasn’t giving her enough air, and she needed him to understand. “If…I…die…”

  James jumped to stand over her. “You are not going to die.”

  He must understand and accept. Now. “But…if I…do…”

  “No, I won’t talk about it. Shannon, you cannot die.”

  Another cough erupted, stealing what little breath she had, cutting her from the inside out. She could hear James, yelling for his mother. Then his hands, sure and firm, helped raise her while droplets dripped down her face.

  When she could again breathe, she realized James’s tears mingled with her own.

  “Shannon, I love you. I will marry you whenever you want. Just don’t leave me. Stay with me, Shannon. I love you.”

  She leaned her head against his chest, her very shaky hand on top of his.

  He gently lowered her back to the pillow, brushing her hair from her face. “Don’t leave me, Shannon. Fight. You must live. You must.”

  “James.” She traced his brow, his cheek.

  He grabbed her hand and kissed it. Then, very slowly, he leaned in and kissed her lips. Soft as a breath, it whispered of the love she longed to share with him.

  “I…love…ye…James.”

  If only I could live long enough to show ye.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  A pall descended over the Laggan proving as thick and visceral as the burial garments entombing the mourned residents of the community. Though Robert had explained to him, Gabriel staggered at the change. Shrouded in grief, the greens of the meadows dulled, and the sun hid its face behind clouds full of tears. So many dead, so many in pain, he longed to run, tear open the veil that held everyone in its folds.

  The brothers reined in their horses for a look. “It’s almost as if someone took a somber grey to the whole world.”

  “Aye, a lot of sorrow and hurt needing the Lord’s healing touch.” Gabriel had to bring it back to God. He was the only hope.

  No one ran to greet them when they pulled to a stop in front of Edenmore Manor. Robert dismounted and took the reins for both animals. “Go on in. I’ll take the horses around back.”

  Gabriel nodded his thanks and, removing his hat, climbed the three steps to the door.

  * * *

  “Gabriel, if you have a minute.”

  “James, he just arrived. Might I have some time with my son?” His mother’s good-natured smile didn’t entirely hide her impatience with the brusque request, but James didn’t care. At this point, manners were the least of his worries. Time was of the essence. Shannon needed his help
.

  “Aye, shall we talk in Father’s study?” His brother caught the urgency.

  James nodded.

  Gabriel gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek before leading the way.

  Once the door securely closed, James began. “You can now perform marriages, correct?”

  Gabriel didn’t show surprise. “Aye, I’ve already performed a couple. Are you thinking of getting married?”

  “Shannon, the Widow, and I would like to be married.”

  “James, I thought she was badly injured and would be needing time to heal. I won’t be here that long.”

  Shaking his head, James felt the tightness in his throat. The tightness always came when he realized Shannon might not recover.

  “She has a son, from her former marriage. Samuel. If she…if…” He shook his head again and spit out the hateful words. “If Shannon should die, she wants to know her son has a father.”

  “And you, do you want to marry her?”

  “Aye, Gabriel, aye. I love her and want her for my wife. I want Samuel for my son. I don’t want to lose her.” At this admission James crumbled. His sobs racked through his body, and he sank into the nearest chair. For the first time he faced that Shannon might not recover. This wedding would be all he would have of her. Except for Samuel. He would still have her son. He would make Samuel his son. “Please, Gabriel. Marry us. Today. Right away.”

  Gabriel’s eyes still didn’t register surprise, but compassion. “James, there’d be no time to have the banns read. No time to meet with the counsel for permission. I couldn’t legally marry you two today.”

  “Then illegally marry us.”

  “What?” Now there’s the surprise.

  “Marry us today. Shannon doesn’t have to know. We can take care of the adoption later. She needs this. There may not be enough time.”