Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jesse stared at the trail ahead as he rode toward home and considered the events of the last few days.
The hours had passed slowly as they waited for a reply from Alliance.
Alternately, they flew by as Jesse thought of how the news would likely take Emily and Mikey from Bella Creek.
He spent as much time with them as he could, but his determination to find the crooks took him away for long spells.
In the past two weeks, despite his best efforts, he’d found nothing new.
He’d scoured the area again and again, hoping for some careless indication of where they’d gone.
..a dropped cigarette butt, a dislodged rock, a broken branch.
Even fresh horse droppings. But he found nothing.
Either they were very smart or incredibly fortunate.
Today was Saturday. He turned toward home.
He’d decided to put aside his job as sheriff and his hunt for bad guys and just be Jesse Hill, a man with dreams and wishes.
Yes, he knew that his parentage, the reputation bestowed on him by his mother’s choices, made those dreams impossible, but for one day, he would forget all that.
Just as he hoped he could help Emily forget her concerns.
He’d had plenty of time to consider what they might do but dismissed everything he thought of.
A picnic, a buggy ride, even an afternoon at the river that ran by town put her out in the open, and since she’d seen the dark-eyed man who unsettled her, he’d been concerned.
Taking her away from town would, in his estimation, constitute an unnecessary risk.
Instead, he planned a quiet day close to home. He would whisper in Gram’s ear that he’d like some time alone. She’d understand.
He reached town. Rode the streets to make sure all was well, unsaddled Rocky, gave him a good rubdown and an extra ration of oats, then turned him free in the little pasture. The horse raced about the perimeter fence as if knowing he was going to enjoy a day or two of rest.
Jesse’s next stop was his office.
Clarence bolted from the chair behind the desk. “Howdy, boss.”
“You’re welcome to the chair. How’s things?”
“Quiet. No important letters or anything. Oh yeah, I broke up a fight between two young fellas.” He laughed and told of two boys about ten getting a little too involved in a tussle.
Jesse chuckled. “Good to know that’s as bad as things get in Bella Creek. No sign of a man with dark eyes and a black horse with a blaze?”
“I’ve been on the watch, as you said, but I’ve seen nothing.”
Jesse considered his dusty, trail-soiled clothes. He needed a bath and clean clothes, so he headed for the store, where he purchased new duds, then he went to the hotel and ordered up a bath. “Lots of hot water.” He did not want to appear at home in this state.
Mr. Hawkins looked at the dirty cowboy before him. If he hadn’t known Jesse, he might have refused. “It will take twenty minutes to heat enough water.” He went to the back, muttering about the way some men let themselves get so dirty.
Jesse stood at the windows, studying the town. Quiet. But somewhere were three men ready and willing to change that. He had to find them.
Mr. Hawkins returned. “Your bath is ready. Want me to do something with those clothes?”
“Thanks, but I’ll take them home.”
Sometime later, he headed down the street, knowing he smelled like lye soap. His new clothes were a little uncomfortable, but he’d soon break them in.
As he approached the house, he heard Mikey in the backyard and went there. Mikey saw Jesse and ran to him. He caught the boy and tossed him in the air.
Gram and Emily sat by the house, shelling peas.
He saw the question in each set of eyes and shifted Mikey over his shoulder. “I didn’t find them.”
Emily sighed and looked away.
He’d failed her. “Sooner or later, they’ll surface, and I’ll be ready.”
Emily rose. “I’ll make some coffee for you.”
He let her go only so he could speak to Gram. “I thought you’d like to take Mikey to visit Sadie.”
She chuckled. “I could do that for you.” She grew serious. “Jesse, be careful. I don’t want to see either one of you hurt. She’s a sweet girl, but what do we know about her?”
“And she doesn’t realize what my past means.” He tried to keep his tone light but perhaps failed, for Gram squeezed his hand.
“Jesse, you’re a good man and don’t you forget it. What your mother did was her choice, not yours.”
“I know.” But it made little difference to most people.
If he hadn’t had the support of the Marshall family, he probably wouldn’t be sheriff.
He’d once harbored the hope he could run from his heritage but soon learned it dogged his heels.
Ironic that he would like to forget his past while Emily wanted so desperately to remember hers.
“Do you want coffee outside?” Emily asked from the doorway.
Gram got to her feet and called Mikey. “You two will have to drink your coffee without us. We’re going for a walk.” And Gram left out the back gate.
“That was strange,” Emily said. “She hadn’t mentioned any plan to leave.”
Jesse didn’t say anything about that. “Let’s have coffee out here.” The setting was pleasant and quiet.
Emily carried a tray with two cups of coffee, a generous slice of cake on one plate and a much smaller one on a second plate.
He grabbed a stool and brought it close for her to put the tray on.
They sipped coffee and ate the rich spice cake. He suspected she had made it. “Good cake.”
“Thanks. I like baking.” She chuckled. “I’ve wondered if I ran a restaurant or if I was a seamstress. Doesn’t seem I could be both.”
She could be anything she chose to be, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He understood well enough that saying it didn’t make it happen.
“Gram has overcome a lot in her lifetime. She told me how difficult it was when your mother chose the sort of life she did. Gram said she agonized in prayer for her daughter to repent.” She shifted so she could look at Jesse as she spoke.
“She said the only good to come from that situation was you.”
“So she says.” It hurt to think of his mother’s wasted ways.
“Gram says getting you away from her gave her a new lease on things.” She studied Jesse, her blue eyes intense.
He wondered what she saw—a man who didn’t know who his father was, a man from a sordid background, or a man who wanted nothing more than to be accepted as part of proper society?
“You’ve been a real blessing to her.” Emily’s eyes darkened with emotion.
He leaned closer, wanting to know if that emotion was approval of him or Gram. “Not everyone sees me as a blessing.”
“You mean people like Agnes? How long will you continue to let her opinion shape yours?”
He sat back. “I don’t. I’m not. Others share her opinion.”
“I suppose they do, but not everyone does. My question is, do you listen to the nay voices or the yea ones?”
He stared at her.
She continued. “Maybe it’s time you forgave your mother.”
Forgive her? Never. He looked into the distance, startled at the words that rushed to his mind.
He had long since stopped thinking of her, being disappointed in her, wishing she’d cared for him enough to make some changes in her life.
He thought he’d forgiven her. But his automatic response indicated otherwise. Could he forgive? Did he want to?
Emily touched his arm. “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. I had no right to say that. To judge you.”
Others had judged him, but this was different because of the truth in her words. He tried to think how to respond. Someone banged on the front door, and the sound of a horse racing away jerked him to his feet. “I have to see what that was all about.”
She followed him through the house. He opened the door. No one was there. He looked up and down the street. Because it was Saturday, there was much activity in the center of town but nothing to suggest any sort of emergency.
Emily gave a cry and fell to her knees. She reached past him to something on the step, pulled a soiled white rag toward her chest, and rocked back and forth, crying quietly.
He knelt beside her. “Emily, what is it?”
Emily recognized the shirtwaist as soon as she saw it. A scream filled her head, but she choked it back. She could not, however, keep back the sobs that consumed her body. Ignoring the blood and dirt on the fabric, she cradled it to her face.
Jesse was at her side, his hands warm on her shoulders. “Emily, what’s wrong?” He asked the question several times before she understood him.
“It’s mine,” she managed between snuffles.
He glanced up and down the street and urged her to her feet. “Come inside.”
She let him guide her to the couch, and, at his gentle pressure, she sat.
“Can I look at it?” He held his hand toward the bit of cloth, no doubt wondering why it had triggered such a response.
Her arms held it tighter. “It’s my favorite shirtwaist. Mama made it for me.
” Moaning, she leaned over her knees and braced herself against the storm of emotions rushing toward her.
“I can picture Mama standing in the kitchen, smiling as she talked to me while she stirred a pot. She loved me.” Her rocking grew frantic.
Jesse rubbed her back, keeping silent, as if knowing she had gone deep into her thoughts, trying to capture more of what her mother looked like, what her name was, where she lived...anything.
She sat up and leaned against Jesse’s shoulder needing his strength and support.
Would he accept her if her past was sullied? She knew he wouldn’t, but right now, she needed the comfort he gave so willingly.
“Can I look at it now? I might find a clue about you or—” He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to. His main concern was to find the brutes who had destroyed her favorite garment.
She forced her arms to release the shirtwaist to him and watched as he unfolded it. The holes in the fabric were cut, not torn. Deliberate. Blood and dirt soiled it in several areas.
She shuddered. “Is it meant as a warning?”