Hope Rekindled (7 page)

After sleeping a little more than two hours, Christopher arose and went quickly to work. He decided it would be best to be gone when the children came home. That way, Mrs. Maynard could let them know he was in town and that he would be back to speak with them. Christopher hoped it would allow them a little time to deal with the surprise of his presence, given that Mrs. Maynard had not mentioned to them that she’d sent a telegram. Not only that, but there was plenty to be accomplished.

First, he needed transportation, and Mrs. Maynard assured him a livery was just a few streets away. As he walked, Christopher made a mental list of what needed to be done. He should telegraph Deborah, then make his way to the funeral home to see what kind of debt was owed. Mrs. Maynard had also informed him that the children had little more than the clothes on their backs. Something would have to be done about that.

The livery was exactly where Mrs. Maynard had directed. A tall beanpole of a man welcomed him.

“Name’s Rothberg. Need a saddle ride or a buggy?”

“A horse for now,” Christopher replied. “I’m Christopher Clay . . . Kelleher. Mrs. Maynard sent me over.”

The man nodded and sobered. “Sure was sorry about your folks.” He motioned Christopher into the stable. “I have a gelding over here. One of my best.”

“That will be fine.” Christopher noted the sturdy-looking chestnut. He was a tall one, just like the man, and looked to have some Arabian blood.

“Your folks was good people.” He quickly cinched the saddle. “Your brother Jimmy used to help me out during the summer. ’Course, when school began, he was only able to come for a few hours after classes. A smart one, your brother.”

Christopher knew from his mother’s letters that Jimmy was quite interested in his education. He hoped to promote that interest and keep his brother motivated to continue his education.

“Yes, sir. Good people. Your ma was one in a million.”

“Thank you for saying so,” Christopher said, the ache in his heart becoming more pronounced.

“She’d send over a loaf of just-baked bread from time to time. Probably the best I ever ate. And cookies as big as dinner plates.” He smiled and shook his head. “Everyone in the neighborhood is going to miss her.”

It touched Christopher to hear this tribute to his mother, but he felt as if his own emotions might boil over at any moment. He paid the man for two days. “I don’t know how long I’ll need him, but I’ll return and pay additional fees should it be longer.”

“No problem. You’re staying with Mrs. Maynard, and I can always check up on you there.” He smiled and handed Christopher the reins. “Colleen owes me a hot meal. I think she’s sweet on me anyway.”

It was the first time Christopher had felt like smiling in days. He could well imagine the stocky Mrs. Maynard and the tall, skinny Mr. Rothberg. “Could you direct me to the closest telegraph office? I need to send a message to Texas.”

Rothberg walked with him and the horse to the front of the stable. “Just turn right at the second street. You’ll go down about six blocks and then you’ll see a row of businesses. The telegraph office is on the corner.”

“Thank you.” Christopher stepped into the stirrup and mounted the horse. The gelding was well behaved and stood stock-still. “I’ll be in touch.”

The horse acted as if they were old friends. He quickly complied with Christopher’s directions and seemed completely at ease with the city traffic. The area had changed a great deal since the last time Christopher had been back. Everything looked foreign to him—felt foreign, too. Of course, most of his adult life had been spent elsewhere avoiding his Irish heritage—avoiding the pain of seeing his father helpless.

“Helpless is exactly how I feel,” he muttered.

His parents were dead. His mother gone—truly gone. He hadn’t even been able to say good-bye. He thought about his last letter home. What had he told his mother? What kind of affection had he offered? His eyes blurred, but he refused to give in to the pain of his loss. He could grieve later. For now, there was work to be done.

He thought again of the children who barely knew him. It wouldn’t be easy for them to see him as their authority or rescue.

“Nothing will be easy for them now.”

“And this is your youngest brother, Jonah. He just celebrated his seventh birthday two days before the fire,” Mrs. Maynard declared. She finished the introductions and took a seat beside the boy.

Christopher let his gaze travel over the ragged quintet. Jimmy and Tommy glared at him with expressions that suggested they wanted nothing he had to offer. They were angry and hurting, and the appearance of a big brother offered no comfort. Darcy, at the age of thirteen, was quite a young woman. She admonished nine-year-old Emma to sit up straight and reached over to straighten her sister’s pigtails. The three youngest were quite petite—perhaps even underfed. No doubt they had less to eat than their older brothers. Christopher shook his head, feeling guilty for not having done more.

Jonah continued to watch him with wide eyes and a look that seemed almost fearful. The boy’s intensity caused Christopher to rethink how he would approach them. Somehow he had to win their trust—had to help them to see that he was there to help.

“I realize that none of you know me very well, but I can tell you honestly that I grieve our mother’s loss as much as you do.” He paused and added, “Our father, as well.”

“Mrs. Maynard said they went up to heaven,” Jonah offered, then buried his face in the stocky woman’s waist.

Christopher was rather at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. His discomfort stymied rational thought; he could have more comfortably performed surgery while wearing a blindfold. Drawing a deep breath, Christopher knew he would have to be strong. Strong and firm. He’d already decided that he would take the children back to Texas with him. There was certainly nothing for him in Kansas City, and while it would be stripping away the last remnants of all that was familiar, a new start would be good for all of them. Of course, Jimmy and Tommy would have plenty to say on the plan.

“I asked Mrs. Maynard to gather you all here,” he began, “because I wanted to explain what will take place in the next few days. Since the house has burned down and the landlord had no insurance to rebuild, you have no home here in Kansas City.”

“We got a home with Mrs. Maynard,” Jimmy said in a terse clipped tone. “I can see to it that we manage. I’m almost seventeen.” He was clearly used to being in charge of his siblings.

Christopher met his brother’s gaze. “I’m sorry, but I cannot allow that. You see, I know our ma wanted to see you continue your education. She was very proud of you—proud of each one of you. She wrote to me all the time about what you were accomplishing. I know she would want you to be happy, but she’d want you to be safe and cared for above all. Mrs. Maynard cannot continue to care for you—that isn’t her job.”

Jimmy folded his arms against his chest but said nothing more. Tommy, too, remained silent, while Darcy had little difficulty posing the questions they no doubt all had on their minds.

“So where are you gonna take us?”

He smiled, hoping it would ease their fears. “I’m going to take you back to Texas with me. I’m soon to be married, and I know my wife would love having each of you.” At least he hoped she would. He hadn’t been able to explain everything in the brief telegram he’d sent her and had already decided he would wait until they returned to let her know the full impact of the fire.

“I ain’t gonna go,” Tommy declared, getting to his feet. “You can’t make me. I’ll be fifteen in a couple of months, and that’s old enough to take care of myself.”

“Me either,” Jimmy said, joining his brother. “You can’t just come in here and expect us to leave. We’ve lived here all our lives. We’ll go on livin’ here.”

It was just as Christopher had expected. “I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible. You are underage and cannot fend for yourselves. You cannot earn a living to support the little ones, and even if you were allowed to roam off on your own, the county would come in and take the rest of your brothers and sisters.”

Jimmy let out a breath that was something between a growl and a sigh before storming off upstairs. Tommy opened his mouth as if to speak but then closed it and stomped off. At this, the two youngest began crying and Mrs. Maynard gathered them in her arms.

“I’ll tend them in the other room,” she told Christopher.

That just left Darcy. The blue-eyed, redheaded girl looked at him rather matter-of-factly. “Looks like you got a big problem.”

O
n Saturday, Deborah accompanied her mother to the commissary. The building was poorly stocked and able to satisfy only the most basic of needs. Her mother hoped to purchase at least several spools of thread, and two or three bags of flour, cornmeal, and coffee.

Deborah walked the aisles, looking for anything useful. There had been a time when the place had been brimming with supplies and trinkets. Now it was just the basic needs, and hardly much of those.

She heard footsteps fall behind her and backed up to let the other person pass. To her surprise, Deborah was immediately taken in hand by Jael. Her friend hurried them to the far end of the store, catching her skirt for a moment on a rough spot on the wood floor.

“Oh bother.” She tugged the material loose, not at all mindful of its delicacy. She pulled Deborah behind a stack of barrels. “Stuart is livid. He apparently had a falling out with G.W.”

“I know about it. G.W. asked Stuart to let Vandermark Logging out of the contract since they aren’t moving ahead to rebuild.”

“But now Stuart has decided he will rebuild. He figures if he’s rebuilding and your family files for breach of contract, he can get a judge to rule in his favor because . . . well, something about there being a tangible effort to rectify the situation.” Jael rolled her eyes. “It was all rather muffled as I was eavesdropping on Stuart and my father.”

“So he plans to rebuild?” Deborah questioned. “That’s wonderful news.”

Jael shook her head. “I don’t trust Stuart to be doing a good thing in this matter. The man still hates you and your family. He even threatened you.”

Deborah looked at Jael and shook her head. “What in the world are you saying?”

“I told Stuart that I wanted a divorce. He refused, of course, though I can’t imagine why at this point. He has all that he wants—his inheritance, the ability to hurt Lizzie and your family. He’s extremely wealthy. Anyway, when I mentioned that I wanted a divorce, he told me no. Then he added that if I dared to try to leave him or divorce him, he’d make you pay—with your life.” Jael reached out and took hold of Deborah’s arm. “He means it, too.”

“I’m not afraid of Stuart Albright,” Deborah replied. How dare he deliver such a threat!

“Perhaps you should be. Stuart made some comment about having killed before. I don’t know exactly what it was all about, and he certainly offered no details, but Deborah—I’m scared of what he might do.”

Deborah felt her brows knit together. “He boasted of killing?”

Jael nodded and glanced around to be sure no one could overhear. “When I asked him if could really kill another person, he said it wouldn’t be the first time or the last. It might well have been nothing but lies—just words spoken in anger to frighten me.”

Deborah shivered as if a sudden icy breeze had blown into the store. “What an evil man.”

“I fear if I do not stay with him and cooperate fully, he will carry through his plans to harm you. I couldn’t bear it if that happened.”

“But if you left him, where would you go? Were you planning to leave Perkinsville?”

Jael looked toward the floor, then back to Deborah. “I thought I might stay a while with you.”

Deborah could see what her friend had in mind. “Of course you would be welcomed. You needn’t stay with him because of his threats. I’ll let G.W. and Uncle Arjan know. Christopher, too, when he returns. Perhaps they will speak to the constable.”

“Stuart probably has the man paid off. I wouldn’t trust anyone but family at this point. Have you heard from Christopher? Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“There was a brief telegram. He said he’d arrived safely and that his parents’ home had been destroyed by fire, but little else. Certainly nothing about when he planned to return.” She shrugged. “I suppose he will have to see them moved to new lodgings before he can leave.”

“Stuart talked of us moving back to Houston, at least for the summer. He has no desire to be here, where he believes there is a greater chance of disease breaking out. I’m not sure why he believes this, but I think it would be good to get him away from here and your family. Especially from you. He still blames you for taking Lizzie from him.”

At this, Jael’s expression changed to one of betrayal and hurt. Deborah wanted to comfort her but didn’t know what to say. Jael continued, however, before Deborah could offer so much as a single word.

“I knew he didn’t love me when we married. I didn’t love him, either, but I thought I might come to. Now I know that won’t happen. It grieves me to know that I made such a hasty mistake.”

“You did what you felt you had to.”

Jael nodded. “And I’m paying the price for it.” She squeezed Deborah’s hands. “He’s forbidden me to see you at all. I don’t know what I shall do or if I’ll even have a chance to say good-bye.”

Deborah thought for a moment. “You can leave messages with Mara Shattuck. If you go to Houston, you can even correspond with me, through her. I’ll speak to her today and let her know what’s happening.”

“I should be able to manage that,” Jael agreed. She glanced around once more, fidgeting like a treed coon. “I need to go.”

“Please be careful. We know now that Stuart is dangerous. We must be on our guard.”

Jael nodded.

“Go out the back way and I’ll keep watch.”

“That’s a good idea,” her friend agreed. “Where is the door?”

Taking Jael by the hand, she led her to the storage room, careful that they should not be seen. “The door is there—to the right.”

Deborah waited until her friend had fled and then went to find her mother. Whispering, she relayed the information Jael had shared—all but the threat on Deborah’s life. She would talk to G.W. first. He wouldn’t overreact, but her mother might be inclined to do something out of pure emotion.

“I need to speak with Mara,” she told her mother. “Would it be all right if I did it now?”

Mother nodded. “I can visit with Rachel until you’re ready to head back. Just come to the Perkinses’ house when you’re ready.”

Deborah nodded and hurried out of the commissary, nearly colliding with the constable. She straightened just in time. “Mr. Nichols, good morning.”

“Miss Vandermark,” he said, tipping his hat. “It looks to be a mighty fine day.”

“It would be finer if you would tell me you’d caught the men who beat up and hanged George and David Jackson. Have you any leads? Has anyone stepped forward, seeking the reward my mother and uncle—I mean stepfather—have offered?”

He frowned and looked quite sorry he’d even addressed her. “Miss Deborah, it’s been over a year. Nobody’s gonna say nothing about what happened. They’re too afraid. The White Hand of God has folks runnin’ scared. There were some lynchings up north not but a week back and some twenty folks witnessed the scene, but no one is talking.”

“That’s ridiculous. How can an entire community allow a mob of masked men to cause such disruption?” She fixed him with a hard stare. “It seems to me you aren’t doing your job.”

He took umbrage and struck a defensive pose. “Now, see here. I’m doing my best. What with the mill burned out and all, my guess is that anyone who saw what happened or heard tell of it is long gone. We simply gotta accept that this is one of those things that can’t be resolved.”

Deborah stiffened. “I refuse to accept that nothing can be done about murder.”

“She makes a good point, Ralph.”

Looking around the constable, Deborah could see Pastor Shattuck sitting at a barrel where an unfinished game of checkers awaited. She smiled sweetly. “Mornin’, Pastor. I wonder, is Mara at home?”

“She sure is. I know she’d love to visit with you. Ralph and I are trying to solve the problems of the world over a game of checkers. I’m afraid you caught us right in the middle.”

“Pardon me,” Deborah said, glancing back at Ralph. “I can see more important things await you.”

She hurried down the steps, narrowly missing one of the constable’s hound dogs. Anger and irritation followed her all the way to the pastor’s house, and while she wanted nothing more than to explode over the matter, Deborah held her tongue.

When Mara opened the door, she offered a smile and a warm greeting. Deborah gave Mara a brief hug. “I wonder if I might speak with you. I have a bit of a problem.”

“Did she say when he plans to start rebuilding?” G.W. asked Deborah.

She shook her head. “No. Jael told me before she headed back to her house that she thought he was already arranging supplies and laborers.”

“Well, that is good news,” Mother said, crossing the room to where Uncle Arjan stood. They had been married less than a year, and their happiness and contentment in each other’s company was evident.

“I’m going to go back to work in the kitchen. Give a holler if you need me, but Sissy has lunch nearly ready for us, so don’t be long.” She gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek and exited the room.

Deborah breathed a sigh of relief. “There’s something more. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Mother, but I feel I should tell you both.”

G.W. frowned and rose from behind the desk. “What now? Albright go and threaten to tear out the train tracks?”

She shook her head. “No. Not that I know of, but Jael asked him for a divorce and he told her no. He was quite angry and added that if she tried to leave him or get a divorce, well . . . he would . . .” She hesitated and looked at her uncle, now stepfather. She had planned all along to let them know of Stuart’s threat, but now it didn’t seem like such a good idea. What would he say if he knew the truth? Would he and G.W. forbid her to leave the house? Would G.W. go challenge Stuart to a fight? She didn’t want to lie, but neither did she want to be the reason that even more harm was done to her family.

“He would what?” her brother prompted.

Deborah didn’t know what to say. She wanted someone to know the truth besides Jael, but what good would it do? It was only a threat, and nothing could really be done.

“What was it he said he’d do?” Arjan asked.

Deborah swallowed hard, her decision made. “He said he would make us pay.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

G.W. shook his head. “Like he’s not already doing that. I tell you, if Jael wants to leave the . . . the . . .” He blew out a heavy breath and held his tongue.

“I think what your brother is trying to say is that Jael would be welcome here if she needed help in getting away from Albright. We aren’t afraid of him. What else could he possibly do to cause us harm?”

Deborah nodded and offered them a weak smile. “Indeed. What could he do?”

But Deborah knew Stuart Albright was a powerful man. He could do a great deal to cause them trouble. If he was willing to threaten her life—he would no doubt find it a simple matter to harm the others. And what if he decided to hurt the twins? She could never bear that.

What should I do?
If only Christopher were there, she could confide in him. A thought nagged her. Knowledge was power, she’d always been told. Her family deserved to know the dangers that could be possible. They deserved to know the truth. Guilt coursed through her. Guilt for her part in developing the contract and not having the foresight to avoid such issues. Guilt for the harm that might come to her family. Guilt for not telling the truth.

The truth will set you free
, a voice seemed to speak in the depths of her heart, but Deborah turned a deaf ear. The truth, in this case, seemed much too dangerous.