Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Ask!
“Well, we best be going.” She glanced out the window. Gabe leaned against a post, people watching. “Come on, silly girl.”
Maude gave her a hug. “Thanks for the nice gift. I’ll enjoy it.”
“You’re welcome.” She glanced again to the back of the store. “Er, Maude, have we gotten anything in the mail lately? Chase wanted me to check.”
Her face lit up. “I’m glad you asked. Yesterday. I meant to tell you when you first walked in, but we got to talking.” She went and retrieved the envelope. “From the orphanage in New Mexico again. This is the third post this year.”
A rocklike ball of dread dropped in Jessie’s stomach. A quick glance at Sarah showed her darling girl clutching her prize to her chest and smiling sweetly up at Maude. Jessie wouldn’t let anything break up her family. Sarah belonged to her and Chase. The child had brought them together. They were a family. Jessie pushed away her panic and put the post into her satchel. “Thank you, Maude,” she said and smiled. She stepped out into the sunlight. “I just hope you still have some clientele by the time Mr. Donovan is finished.”
On the boardwalk, Sarah unwrapped her purchase and held it out to show Gabe. When he saw Jessie, he went over and took Shane from her arms.
“Thank you. He’s getting so big, sometimes I forget how heavy he is.”
“Why don’t I keep him while you take Sarah to the doctor’s, the bank, and then to the restaurant?” Gabe said. “Shane and I will meander around town and pet the horses.”
“Oh, Gabe, that would be a blessing. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I got the day off to help you. I’m enjoying some time away from the cattle and flies.”
She rubbed Shane on the head. “I can’t pass up such a generous offer. You be a good boy for Gabe, you hear?” Shane was already smiling from ear to ear. “In case he needs anything, his duffel is in the buggy.”
Gabe took a step back, shaking his head. “I’ll find you if he needs a change.”
Jessie laughed. “Oh, all right. But you can’t blame a girl for trying.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thom rolled his shoulders and stretched his worn muscles as he wandered slowly through the small cemetery. He’d finished at Maude’s, his lunch hour gone, then headed back to the livery, only to ask Win if he could have a few more minutes. Setting Maude’s shingles had brought on a storm of memories. Working side by side with his pa and Roland, swinging fast on their slippery barn roof, trying to beat the coming rain. They’d just set the last row as a bolt of lightning lit the sky. Scrambling off, they’d found a big stew ready and his ma waiting for them all.
It was time. He needed to do this today. He’d been avoiding the truth for too long.
First things first. Second row, three graves down. He moved slowly. Stopped. Levi Smith. The grave was old. Thom stood there, the sun warming his back. Born 1857. Died 1873. He’d been here before. The day they’d buried Levi and again on the day he had left town.
Thom turned, headed to the back of the cemetery, knowing that was the Irish section, as well as the Polish and German. His steps, muted by the grass-covered earth, took him between the gravestones and alongside a tree where small birds hopped between the branches. Plain wooden crosses, as well as large stone markers, filled his view. Some with stories of the deceased chiseled carefully to commemorate the memory of the loved one. He came upon Caleb’s grave next to Caleb’s father and mother. No weeds grew around the headstones. Hannah and Markus must tend to them often. Caleb dead, too. It was still so unbelievable.
Moving on, he crossed the wooden bridge spanning the dry creek bed, remembering how it would fill as soon as the fall rains hit. On the other side, a small marker noted he was on the hallowed ground of the immigrants of Logan Meadows.
Only a handful of graves. He stopped, unsure he was ready to face the reality of what Sheriff Preston had told him only six days ago. Six days that felt like an eternity.
Katherine Abby Murphy Donovan.
A fistful of wilted flowers adorned the base of her headstone, and the grave was tended just as lovingly as was Caleb’s family. Hannah. A burning sensation pressed on the back of his eyes. He looked away.
On the left side of his mother’s grave was Roland Aeary Donovan, and on the other, Loughlan Donal Donovan.
He removed his hat. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I never should have left. Never should have gotten into that fight with Levi. You told me, Pa, nothing was worth fighting over. You taught me to use my brains and not my fists.”
He closed his mouth. There was nothing he could say. There were no words deep enough to express his sorrow. If only he could go back. Do everything over.
“Thom?”
His heart lurched. The sound of Hannah’s soft whisper caressing his name pulled him from this nightmare, promising love, laughter—life. Oh, how he wished things were different, that he’d never run from his pain, setting the course of his life. If only he and Hannah could find each other now. Pick up where they’d left off. Become the couple they were meant to be. He wiped his eyes again, reining in his emotions before he turned to see her waiting on the bridge. He waved her over.
“I saw you walking across the hill,” she said softly as she approached. “I knew it would be difficult for you to see the graves. Do you want me to leave?”
He shook his head.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind my—”
He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her body melded to his. Warm, comforting. Her arms went around him, a lifeline, keeping him safe. She turned her head and kissed his cheek, his jaw. To know that she was here, that she loved him and wanted to be part of his life, meant a lot. Warring emotions jumbled up inside. He longed to rage against the injustice of all the lost years. The small orb of metal at the base of his skull dictating his actions. His parents and brother planted here in the ground like a gruesome new crop.
Unable to hold it off, a burning-hot sob fought its way from a grief so deep, it frightened him. Another followed. Then another. And another.
Hannah’s calming touch moved up and down his back. She did not have to voice a word for him to know exactly what her touch was saying. Several minutes passed. He stilled. They parted, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
She reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead, studying his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to come home to this.”
“I keep thinking about what they went through,” he said, glancing at the graves. “It’s difficult for me to believe. The last conversation was a fight with Pa the night I left. He couldn’t understand. Why I was leaving, I mean.”
She put her hand on his arm, and he studied her delicate fingers for several long moments.
“Why did you leave, Thom? The judge ruled Levi’s death an accident. You weren’t in trouble with the law.”
Thom looked at the town, trying to make the jumbled mess make sense. People were moving about on the street, going about their day. He could see the side of the Red Rooster from his vantage point on the hill. “It’s hard to explain, Hannah. I couldn’t bear the pain on my father’s face another minute. I was responsible. I’d killed a boy. Taken a life recklessly. I’d disappointed my pa and let him down. Hell, I’d crushed his soul, if I’m being honest with myself. And what about Levi?”
“What about Levi?” Anger laced her voice and her eyes were hard. “He was the one who drew the knife. Just what did you think he was going to do with it? Whittle you a present?”
“What happened to his family?” Thom remembered Levi’s mother, totally crushed, weeping by his grave.
“They moved away.”
“Hannah.”
“No, Thom, listen to me. You were only a boy. I’m sorry Levi died that day—I’ll be the first one to say it. But you’re not to blame. You did not kill him. He fell onto his own knife.” She grasped his arm and gave it a listen-t
o-me shake. “I can’t say that I understand why your pa didn’t stand by you more, if you say he didn’t. We don’t know what shapes others into who they are. You have to let this go.”
All he could do was listen. He’d run out of words.
“Life happens, Thom. As bad as it was for Levi to die, there are more tragic things, I think. A life wasted. Walking through each day trying to pay back something that wasn’t your fault. The day Caleb died, I promised myself I’d never spend a day in regret over anything. Never put off something that’s important to me. Never leave a good word unsaid.” She hesitated. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never shared with anyone. The day Caleb died, I went over to the restaurant when the cook we had summoned me for some problem, I can’t even remember what it was now. I hadn’t realized Caleb was that sick. None of us did. He died alone. I didn’t even get a chance to tell him good-bye. Or that I was carrying his child. I’d had suspicions, but I planned to wait until he felt better. Thom, don’t waste a moment of your life. That moment could be your last.”
It would be so easy to pull her back into his arms. To taste her lips, feel her warmth, all the things he’d dreamed about so often in his prison cell. It had been the memory of Hannah Brown that had pulled him through day and night. It was Hannah with her laughing eyes and charming smile.
She tipped her head. “What’re you thinking?”
“Just trying to figure you out.” She didn’t know how close she was to the truth of the matter. That bullet could put him down now, right here, this instant. If only he didn’t have that piece of metal controlling his life. There were so many if onlys he didn’t want to think about them anymore. Still, he’d not set Hannah up for more hurt and misery. She had Markus to consider, as well as herself.
She shrugged and walked toward a rustic bench at the edge of the cemetery, where grassland met graves. She sat, then gave him a smile knowing full well he’d follow.
“I need to get back to the livery,” he said, now standing in front of her like a dolt. “I told Win I’d only be gone for a little while.”
She patted the spot next to her. “Sit for just a moment.”
He shook his head. “I really need to get back.”
A flicker of hurt crossed her eyes before she looked away. She stood and straightened her dress. “All those years locked up in a cell couldn’t have been easy. Then to come home and find your family dead or gone is the most heartbreaking thing in the world. I just want you to know that I’ll always be here for you, Thom. And I’ll keep being here for you until you see just how much happiness there can still be in your life and just how much you still have to lose.” Then, without another word, Hannah turned and started down the path toward town.
Jessie was waiting in front of the El Dorado Hotel when she saw Hannah coming down the hill. She waved. “Perfect timing,” she called, holding Sarah by the hand. Dr. Thorn had checked Sarah’s throat and said everything looked completely normal. Phantom pains. Fit as a fiddle, he’d said, much to Jessie’s relief. “I was just coming in for a quick visit and a cup of tea. Do you have a moment? I want to invite you and Markus to a picnic I’m planning.”
Hannah smiled warmly, contradicting the shadow of sadness in her eyes. “Sarah, where have you left that little brother of yours?” She squatted, getting eye to eye with Sarah.
Sarah blushed. “Gabe is showing him the horses.” She pointed to several tied in front of the bank. “So Ma and me can get things done.”
Hannah looked up at Jessie and winked. “I see. Sometimes little hands and feet make that difficult, don’t they?”
Sarah nodded, agreeing emphatically. “’Specially when he cries and throws a fit.”
Jessie couldn’t stop her giggle. “So true. Shane is very good at making his needs known. He’s not shy at all.” She glanced around. “Markus doesn’t happen to be here, does he? Sarah would like to say hello.”
“He’s not. His uncle Dwight took him fishing today. They’re spending fella time together.” Sarah scrunched her face, and Hannah laughed. “We can have fun, too. Come on. Let’s find something delectable to go along with our tea.”
Jessie stepped into the near-vacant dining room. “Where is everyone? Feels pretty quiet in here.”
“Oh, it’s just one of those turtle days. Every restaurant has them now and then. Follow me. We’ll visit in here.” Hannah preceded them into the kitchen, where Susanna was mixing up some sort of batter.
Jessie pulled out a chair at the small break table and seated Sarah, hoping beyond hope that Hannah’s teasing words were true. They watched as Hannah set about warming water and opening a very interesting-looking crock. Sarah’s eyes lit up when she began arranging delicious-looking cookies onto a plate.
“There now,” Hannah said, setting cups filled with hot tea onto the table along with the cookies.
Sarah quickly picked one up. “Thank you, Mrs. Hoskins.”
“You’re very welcome. Such nice manners on this young lady.”
The letter in Jessie’s bag made it hard to return Hannah’s smile. She’d been in a fog since leaving the mercantile. She only nodded.
“I’ll bet she’s anxious to start school in the fall.”
Jessie cup rattled. “She’s not ready for school!” Could she bear to let Sarah out of her sight for a whole day? What if someone were to find her, take her, when Jessie wasn’t there to stop them?
Hannah’s head whipped around. “What are you talking about? Of course she is. She knows far more than most for their first year.”
“I don’t know.” Jessie hesitated. “I’m thinking about keeping her home another year.” At her remark, Sarah’s face fell, and Jessie wanted to take it back—but couldn’t. She’d do anything to keep her little girl safe.
“Jessie, I don’t agree. I think—”
Jessie laughed and shook her head, hoping she sounded carefree. “Forgive me, Hannah, but it’s time to go.” She finished her tea and wiped her mouth, then set her napkin on the tabletop. “We still have a lot to accomplish before we start back to the ranch, don’t we, Sarah?” She stood, feeling like the worst of friends. Hannah looked confused as she helped Sarah up.
“Jessie?”
“Don’t forget the picnic. It’s going to be a fun day,” Jessie called, hurrying out the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The feel of Hannah’s body pressed up against his was still on his mind as Thom hustled into the stall and haltered Bertie, the large half-Percheron draft mare. Her hefty feet clomped as he led her down the center passageway, then turned her out into the small pasture out back. She ambled off toward Max and the tiny bison heifer.
Three more stalls. If he didn’t hurry, he’d get a scolding from Mrs. Hollyhock for being late. Supper was on the table at five twenty-five and not a minute later.
With pitchfork in hand, Thom set about to strip Bertie’s stall, reminding himself with each hefty, urine-soaked forkful that he was grateful to have this job. Hannah sitting on the bench popped into his head. Nope, not going there.
“He has a small crack on the outside of his right front hoof, due, I think, to improper shoeing.” Win’s powerful voice was hard to miss coming from the forge. “It’s not bad enough to cause the lameness, though. Must be a stone bruise. Some time off it will do him a world of good.”
“I know you can’t work miracles, Preston. I tried to get him to you sooner but I’ve been busy. I hope I haven’t made things worse.”
The pitchfork froze midair. Rome Littleton! Thom hadn’t seen him around since his first day in town and had assumed the rustler had ridden on.
No fighting. The doctor’s words reminded Thom why he couldn’t take Rome on here and now. The fact that Thom had to avoid giving Rome what he deserved produced a tangible fury. He’d been fortunate there had been no complications three days ago when he’d been yanked from his horse and then punched in the face. Thom didn’t want to test Lady Luck too often.
Win came through the breezeway, lea
ding a seal-brown gelding to the back of the barn. He quickly removed the animal’s bridle and haltered him, then tied him to the hitching rail. It took less than a minute to strip off his saddle and put it in the tack room. On his way through, he paused at the stall door where Thom worked. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Win.” Thom stopped and stuck the pitchfork into the straw-covered floor of the stall, trying to mask his irritation. He liked Win. Owed him a lot.
Win’s astute eyes remained on Thom’s face. “Something wrong?”
Thom hated to mislead Win. For one, it was wrong. Two, his boss had been a friend when he needed one most. Nevertheless, what was in the past was going to have to stay there. If he fingered Rome for his part in the rustling all those years ago, it was the word of an ex-convict rustler against, most likely, one of a trusted ranch hand or owner. Thom didn’t know what Rome’s standing was in the community. Many years had passed. Anything was possible. Who did Thom have to vouch for him? No one. He’d do well to remember that when his Irish temper called for vengeance.
“Not a thing.”
“How’d it go up on the hill? At the cemetery?” Win’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. Probably sees my red eyes. “You all right?”
“Had to face it. It’s still difficult for me to believe.”
The older man nodded in understanding. “Will be for some time to come, I’m sure. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” With a quick pat on Thom’s arm, he left the smithy and Thom to his thoughts.
“I don’t know about you, Sarah,” Jessie said, hefting Shane to the opposite side of her lap so Gabe could help her down from the buggy. They’d reined up in front of the Red Rooster Inn. “I’m getting tired. Good thing this is our last stop.” Sarah slumped against her side, all but worn out.
Before the Larkspur Blooms Page 12
