The Glorious Prodigal

by Gilbert, Morris

  The words were a healing balm to her heart, for they were what Leah had longed to hear. Her heart told her that she was hearing the truth from this man who had so hurt her, and as she rested in his arms, she knew without a doubt that his heart was now finally hers. And as she accepted him, she knew that she was a wife in a way that she had never been before. She moved against him then, holding him tightly and whispering, “I love you, husband. . . .”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A Woman Scorned

  A brisk spring breeze ruffled Raimey’s hair, tossing it over into his eyes. He pushed it back and stared out at the mass of squealing, grunting, young pigs that bumped up against his legs, almost upsetting him. There seemed to be a sea of them as he held the bucket of feed high and made his way to the trough. Emptying the feed, he stepped back, and the pigs, grunting and shoving one another, pushed their snouts in and gobbled the grain down.

  “Dad, I hate pigs!”

  Stuart, who had carried two large buckets filled with feed, looked at Raimey and grinned. “I don’t,” he observed. “I think about what all these pigs are going to do, and I just about love them. As a matter of fact,” he said with humor sparkling in his eyes, “it’s all I can do to keep from picking these little rascals up and kissing them right on the snout.”

  Raimey looked up startled and saw the humorous light in his father’s eyes. “Aw, Dad, you don’t mean that! Nobody could love an old pig!”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Stuart moved over to another trough and emptied one bucket, then another until he had completed the job. “That’s all you get for now, you greedy rascals!” He moved back, giving the suckling pigs plenty of room, but their attention was all on the feed. When he reached the fence and stepped outside, he waited for Raimey to exit, then closed the gate. Moving over to lean on the side of the rail fence, he fixed his eyes on the pigs, saying, “Just think about what all those pigs are going to do for us.”

  “What do you mean, Dad?”

  “Well, you know your mother’s been struggling with that old broken-down wood stove for a long time. The thing is about to fall apart. Those fellows out there”—Stuart pointed at the mass of pigs that fought and scrambled over the food—”are going to buy her the best stove made in the United States of America.”

  “What do you mean? How are they going to buy anything?”

  Stuart, however, paid him no heed. “I’ll tell you what else they’re going to do. You know that saddle you’ve been looking at down at the store?”

  “Sure, Dad. You mean the fancy one?”

  “That’s the one. Well, these pigs are going to buy you that saddle, Raimey.”

  Raimey’s eyes grew large, and he said, “Really! When?”

  “Well, they’ve got to grow up first. They’re just little fellows. But they’re going to do more than that. They’re going to paint the house. They’re going to buy us a new truck. And one of these days you’re going to go off to college. And these young piglets are going to send you off in style.”

  Stuart turned and put his arm over Raimey’s shoulder. It was an action he could not have done a few months earlier, but he had discovered that the young boy was starved for affection—especially for the affection of a father. He felt Raimey lean in slightly toward him and grinned. “I know you are embarrassed about being a pig farmer, but I’m not. As a matter of fact, pigs are a lot smarter than horses in a lot of ways.”

  “But they’re so dirty and greedy.”

  “That’s just the nature of a pig, son, to eat like that. As a matter of fact, I’ve seen you eat like that a few times.”

  “Ah, Dad, you didn’t!”

  “When you bucked into that blackberry pie last night, I expected you to start snorting and nosing into it just like those pigs are doing right now.” Stuart laughed at the expression on Raimey’s face and then squeezed his shoulder. “Anyway, these pigs are going to get your mother a lot of new things that she deserves.”

  The two continued talking as they walked around the farm, and Raimey stayed very close to his father. Finally a frown crossed his face. “Dad, what about this war over the water?”

  “It’s getting bad, son. The Germans have declared total submarine warfare.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means they’re going to sink every ship they see, and they’re bound to sink ships with Americans on them. They’ve done it once and if they do it again, we’ll have to fight.”

  They crossed the pig lot, and Raimey was silent for a moment. Finally he looked up, anxiety etching his features. “Will you have to go fight, Dad?”

  Stuart shook his head, a glum expression on his face. “No. That’s one of the penalties of being an ex-convict. You can’t serve once you have a prison record. I’d go if I could, but I won’t be able to.”

  Raimey considered his father’s words, and then suddenly his attention was caught by a car speeding along the road in front of the house. “I don’t know that car.”

  Stuart watched the car pull to a stop and shook his head. “I don’t know it either.”

  They saw a man get out of the car, and Stuart’s eyes narrowed. He said nothing, but when the man spotted him, he came toward him at once. He was a tall man with red hair and a pair of light blue eyes.

  “Hello, Stuart,” he said, and a grin crossed his lips. “Got a letter for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an envelope and handed it over. His eyes watched carefully as Stuart glanced at the handwriting, then he grinned loosely. “Want me to take an answer back?”

  “No.”

  Raimey was surprised at the shortness of his father’s reply. He knew something was wrong, but he would not ask. He watched as the man lifted a hand and laughed, saying, “Well, I’ve done my chore. Up to you now.” He went back to the car. After the car disappeared and was on its way down the road, Raimey said, “Aren’t you going to open it, Dad?”

  It seemed that Stuart did not hear his son. He was staring at the handwriting, his face devoid now of humor and warmth. The sudden change in his father troubled Raimey, and he said no more.

  Finally Stuart shook his shoulders together and said, “Son, would you go feed the cows? I’ve got to talk to your mother.”

  “All right, Dad.”

  Stuart stuck the envelope in his pocket, turned, and headed for the house. Raimey stood there watching him with a troubled expression as he walked off.

  When Stuart entered the back door, he found Leah washing Merry’s hair. He took a seat and watched them for a moment.

  “Stuart, we’re about out of rainwater, and the well water’s just too hard.”

  “I’ll see if I can’t make it rain tomorrow.”

  Leah glanced up and smiled. “You men are lucky. You can wash your hair with lye soap. There’s not enough of it to matter, but women are different. Aren’t they, honey?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  Merry was sitting on a tall stool in front of the kitchen sink. Now she laughed as she reached up and ran her hands through the suds. She had beautiful hair and loved to have it washed.

  “Now bend over and let me rinse it, honey.”

  Stuart watched as Leah rinsed Merry’s hair, then began to dry it with a fluffy towel.

  “Why don’t you go in the living room and sit down in front of the fire? It’ll dry your hair quicker. Then I’ll brush it out for you.”

  “All right, Mama,” Merry said. Jumping off the stool, she went over to Stuart and said, “Will you have a tea party with me?”

  “We’ll have to see, honey. I’ve got a lot to do. Maybe so.”

  “All right.”

  Leah smiled fondly after the girl and said, “She’s such a sweet child, isn’t she?”

  Stuart ordinarily would have responded, but now he did not answer. Leah looked up with surprise and saw something in his face that drew her attention. Drying her hands, she came over and sat down beside him. “Is something wrong? Don’t you feel well?”

  Witho
ut a word, Stuart reached into his pocket. He handed her the envelope and then fixed his eyes on her face. “This just came for me,” he said.

  Taking the envelope, Leah looked at it, and a chill ran through her. She did not know the handwriting, but something about Stuart’s attitude told her that something was troubling him. “It’s a woman’s handwriting. Whose is it?”

  “It’s Cora’s. I want you to open it.”

  His words startled Leah. She could not understand Stuart, but instantly memories began to come back. A hardness came into her, for it had been difficult for her to forgive Cora for what she had done to her family. Now she said, “Why do you want me to open it?”

  “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, Leah.”

  The words warmed Leah’s heart, and she reached over and took his hand. “You really want me to open it?”

  “Yes.”

  Leah opened the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Her eyes scanned it quickly, and she said, “She wants to see you.” She pushed the sheet of paper toward Stuart, who shook his head. “Don’t you want to read it?”

  “No.”

  The two sat there, and then Stuart suddenly put his arm around Leah. “I’m sorry I brought this trouble on you.”

  “Has she tried to see you before?”

  “Yes. But I’ve kept away from her. If I never see that woman again, it’ll be too soon!” He squeezed her and, reaching over, turned her face toward him. “You’re my wife, Leah. You’re all the woman I ever want. I don’t care anything about Cora.”

  His look and his sincere words flooded her heart with love and helped to push back the dark feelings that tried to plague her with fear and doubt. She reached up, put her hand on his cheek, and for a moment the two sat there. Finally she whispered, “I’m glad you told me.”

  Stuart pulled her forward and kissed her and then was silent for a moment. Finally he said, “I’ve changed my mind. I will go see her.”

  Leah’s heart sank. “You will?” she whispered.

  Stuart grinned. “Yes. But I want you with me. We’ll both go answer her note.”

  Leah straightened up, and her eyes glinted. “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  ****

  Cora was finishing up a letter when her maid, Ruth, came in and said, “There’s somebody to see you.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. They just say they need to see you.”

  “All right, Ruth. I’ll see them.”

  Putting down her pen, Cora rose and made her way out of the drawing room. She turned into the foyer and stopped dead still and for a moment could not think of a word to say.

  Stuart Winslow stood beside Leah, feeling the pressure of her hand on his arm. “We got your note, Cora. So here we are.”

  Something in Stuart’s tone was challenging, and Cora stared at Leah. She was not easily disturbed and shaken, but now rich color came up into her cheeks. She could not think of a single thing to say until finally she said lamely, “Well . . . won’t you come in?”

  “No. I don’t think we need to do that, Cora,” Leah said. “Your note came, and as soon as Stuart gave it to me, I knew we had to come over and get a few things straight.”

  Anger rushed through Cora, for she was not accustomed to situations where she was not in total control. When she had written the note, she had been sure that Stuart would come as he always had in the old days. Now she saw that he was watching her critically with a slight smile on his face. He was, she saw, enjoying her discomfort. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Leah!”

  “Yes, you do,” Leah said quietly. And then she lifted her chin. She made an attractive picture as she stood there, for she had dressed carefully for this occasion. She wore a loose-fitting day dress made of a light peach-colored material and covered with a lightweight jacket that fell to hip level. The jacket had a V-shaped neckline, wide collar, and long sleeves all highlighted in a light tan, and the skirt hung down above her ankles where two-toned boots with buttons finished her look. On her head was a tan velvet hat with a high crown, an undulating brim, and a dark brown feather coming out of one side.

  There was an assurance in her voice as she said, “You’ll have to get another man, Cora. You can’t have mine.”

  “I’ve had him before!”

  “I know you have, but that’s over now.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Cora said. “I can get any man I want!”

  “Not this one, Cora,” Stuart said easily. “I know I’ve been a fool over you in the past, but you can forget me. I learned some hard lessons while I was in prison for the mistakes I made, but God was merciful to give me another chance. When I had given up on Him, He did not give up on me. And He’ll do the same for you if you give Him a chance. He’s forgiven me and so has Leah. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

  Cora’s eyes flew open, and she began to scream. Curses streamed out of her mouth, and for a moment it seemed she would fly at the two to assault them physically.

  Leah simply stood there and waited until the tirade was over. Then she said, “Good-bye, Cora. I don’t think we’ll be meeting again. Are you ready, Stuart?”

  “Ready. Good-bye, Cora. Don’t write any more notes. They’re a waste of your time.”

  The two left, and Cora stood there, her hands trembling. She wanted to scream and throw herself against the door. Anger and jealousy raged through her like a turbulent river. She was a woman of deep emotions, but never had a man turned her aside so bluntly for another woman. Now she went back to her room, slammed the door, and for a long time walked the floor. She was shocked at the depth of anger that rose up in her. Finally she got control of herself, and going to the door, she called out to the maid. “Ruth!”

  The maid appeared at once. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Pack a suitcase for me. I’m going to Fort Smith.”

  “Yes, ’um. How long you going to stay?”

  Cora smiled and there was a cruelty in it. “As long as it takes,” she said. “Pack that new blue dress I bought last week.”

  ****

  “There’s a lady to see you, Mr. Castleton.”

  Mott looked up from his desk where he was working on a mass of papers that were scattered all over it. It was an important case, and he did not want to be disturbed. “A woman? What’s her name?”

  “Mrs. Cora Simms.”

  “Cora Simms?” Mott sat for a moment with the pen in his hand, then he carefully put it in the inkwell and rose. “Have her come in, Simpson.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mott rose to his feet, and as Cora came to the door, he smiled. “Hello, Cora. I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Well, Mott. How are you? My, you’re looking so well.”

  Cora was wearing the blue dress she had specifically ordered her maid to pack. It was tight-fitting, and she knew it made the most of her rich, full figure. Now she smiled and took his hand, holding on to it and squeezing it tightly. “I just came to Fort Smith to shop for a day or two, and I thought it might be nice to drop by and see what a rising young attorney does in his spare time. What are you doing? Foreclosing on some poor widow’s house?”

  “Nothing so exciting as that.” Mott grinned. “Although I’ve been accused of doing worse things. Here, sit down, Cora.” He waited until she was seated and drew another chair up across from her. She began to talk in a sprightly fashion, and Mott was pleased at the interruption. Several years ago he had thought she was interested in him, but it had come to nothing. Now he felt a stir of excitement within him. He knew she was not a virtuous woman, never had been, and he watched carefully for some sign of her intentions.

  “I thought you might take me out to dinner, Mott.”

  “Why, it would be my pleasure! Where are you staying?”

  “At the Majestic.”

  “Why don’t I pick you up about six? There’s a show in town. We might take it in and then have a late dinner.”

/>   “That sounds wonderful. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  When she rose, she reached out her hand, and he took it as he escorted her to the door. When she paused at the door and squeezed it, Mott somehow knew that, for whatever reason, Cora Simms had come to town for a purpose. He was a shrewd man, adept at reading the eyes of people, and there was a promise in Cora’s expression that stirred him so that he said quickly, “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “So will I, Mott.”

  ****

  The evening had been a success for Mott Castleton. He and Cora had attended a performance by a troupe of Shakespearean actors who had put on a rollicking performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The company had performed the play as a slapstick comedy, and Mott had found it highly amusing.

  Afterward they had gone to the restaurant at the Majestic, which served the finest food in Fort Smith. The steaks had been delicious, and now as they sat there drinking coffee, Mott found himself more stirred by this woman than he had thought possible.

  He listened as she spoke. Since she was a widely traveled woman, and a wealthy one as well, she had many amusing anecdotes to tell.

  Finally Cora said, “Well, it’s getting late, Mott.”

  “I’ll take you to your room.”

  Paying the bill, Mott left the restaurant and took the elevator up to the fifth floor. When they got to the door, Cora removed her key from her purse, opened it, then turned and looked at him and said, “Would you care to come in for a drink?”

  “Yes. Of course,” Mott said quickly.

  The drink turned out to be several drinks, and finally Mott reached forward and pulled her to him. They were sitting on a couch, and he kissed her passionately, but she suddenly pulled back.

  “Mott—” she said and then hesitated as she held her hand on his chest, holding him away.

  “What is it, Cora? What’s the matter?”

  “Mott, do you know what they’re saying about you?”

  “What who’s saying?”

  “Everyone,” Cora said quickly. She looked up and held his eyes. “They’re saying that you made a fool of yourself over Leah Winslow.”