Joline's Redemption (2 page)

If she'd known then what she knew now, she would have listened to her sister. She'd never have left her family. How could she have known her actions would one day cost her something so priceless—her son?

That afternoon, Jo clutched Jamie tight around his belly as the buggy bumped along the rutted street. The innocent child bounced and gurgled, enjoying the ride that was ripping out her heart. Stoney, one of Badger's henchmen, drove the wagon. There'd be no escape for her with him along. Why couldn't Garnet have driven? She would have been more sympathetic to Jo's plight, but even she wouldn't have allowed Jo to run, because it would have meant a severe beating for herself.

Jo sighed, blowing Jamie's wispy blond hair. While her son had her coloring, his features more resembled his father. She scowled at the thought of Mark Hillborne. Why had she been so enamored with him? Why had she believed him when he'd said he wanted to marry her? He'd been a charmer, wooing her into his store. Into his bed after they'd repeated their vows to one another. It was only later that she learned the man who “married” them wasn't a real preacher. She looked to the side, focusing on a general store, much like the one she and Mark had run together.

The man she thought she loved had deceived her. And he'd lied when she confronted him with the news she'd learned. He laughed it off as a rumor and had coaxed her to believe that he truly loved her and that they were legally married. Didn't his ring prove that? But the last time he learned she was pregnant, he'd boarded up the store and left town. Left her. Left his son.

Jo pushed the morose memories from her mind. Today's troubling thoughts were already more than she could handle. Dressed in the dark blue calico Badger had supplied and riding in a buggy she'd never seen before, she was able to study the town without receiving the censuring glares and huddled whispers she normally endured as one of the ladies from the bordello. Anyone might think they were a married couple. Though only a few years old, Oklahoma City had already surpassed Guthrie in size. One could easily hide among the crowds. She glanced down at her dress, her heart picking up its pace. In calico, she could walk the streets and fade in with the regular folk.

Stoney turned a corner and stopped the buggy at a small park. A couple sitting in a fancy surrey turned to look at them. The woman's eyes lit up as they latched onto Jamie. Jo tugged her son against her chest. He reached up and patted her cheek. She'd never let that woman have Jamie, but she had to play the part now or Stoney would become suspicious and tattle to Badger.

The man helped his wife down then offered his arm and escorted her toward Jo. They were dressed in nice clothing, and their buggy was a newer model. In another situation, she might have liked them. Stoney jumped to the ground then lumbered around and helped Jo out of the buggy. He gestured with his head for her to go on. Sucking in a steadying breath, she pushed her feet forward.
Just be an actress. Play the part.
Then tonight, she and Jamie would make their getaway.

The couple cautiously approached, both of them looking at Jamie. Jo felt a little sorry for them, since they wouldn't be gaining a son like they hoped. But Jamie was
her
son, and no one would force her to give him up. Besides, this was none of her doing. For all she knew, they'd paid Badger a fee to claim her son.

“Oh, Charles. He's such a comely lad.” The woman's gaze shifted to Jo. “The baby is a boy?”

She nodded. “His names is James, but I call him Jamie.”

“We'd want to change that, of course.” The man glanced at Jo. “I suppose I should introduce us. I'm Charles Willhite, and this is my wife, Cecelia.”

He looked at Jo as if waiting for her name, but she remained silent. Her name didn't matter. And neither did Jamie's, so it seemed.

“Could my wife hold the boy?”

Jo shuddered. Would the couple try to steal Jamie away now? They'd be upset when they learned they couldn't have him today. Forcing herself to nod and her arms to loosen, she held out her son, hoping he'd cry and fuss and want her back—but she knew he wouldn't. He'd always been such a good baby, and he was used to different women holding him.

“Oh, look. He has blue eyes like you, Charles.”

The man scowled. Maybe he didn't like his wife comparing him and Jamie. Cecelia was obviously taken with him. Jamie reached for the woman's gold necklace, but Mr. Willhite reached out and gently pushed his hand down.

“Mr. Worley informed us the boy is an orphan. Do you know anything of his background?”

Stunned, Jo didn't respond at first. Badger had told them Jamie didn't have parents?

Mr. Willhite lifted a brow.

Jo straightened. “Jamie is not an orphan. I am his mother.”

Behind her, Stoney coughed a warning.

Mrs. Willhite's face turned white. “Why would you give away your child?”

Jo wanted to snatch her son from the woman's arms and flee. She wanted to scream that she didn't want to give him up. Instead, she kept her head down, hoping they couldn't tell she was lying. “As much as I'd like to keep him, my circumstances are such that I can't. I only want him to go to a good home.”

She peered up, watching the couple look at one another. The woman gave a slight nod and tugged Jamie up, resting her cheek on his head.

Mr. Willhite turned. “All right. We'll take him, but there is to be no further contact from you or Mr. Worley, is that clear?”

Jo stepped toward them. “I understand, but there is one thing. You can't have Jamie until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Mrs. Willhite took a step back.

Jo wrung her hands. “Please understand. Today is his first birthday. I can't bear to give him up today. Please.”

Mr. Willhite scowled. “I was afraid of something like this. It's why I didn't like this harebrained idea from the start.”

“It's only one more day, Charles. And then we'll have our son.”

“Are you sure? What if something happens? I don't want to see you disappointed again.”

“The young lady seems sincere. As much as I'd love to take Jamie now, I can wait one more day.” But when she looked down at Jamie and kissed his head, Jo noticed her lips quivered. She knew the agony the woman felt at the thought of parting with him.

Cecelia passed Jamie to her husband, and he handed him back to Jo. She clutched him to her.

“Same time tomorrow? Same place?” Mr. Willhite asked.

His wife placed her hand on his forearm. “Could we perhaps meet earlier in the day? I don't think I can bear to wait all day, and it might be easier on Jamie's mother?”

“Ten o'clock?” Mr. Willhite lifted a brow.

Holding her son tight, Jo nodded. She turned and fled back to the buggy, knowing she was going to break Mrs. Willhite's heart. But Jamie was her son—and she wasn't letting him go without a fight.

B
aron Hillborne set his satchel on the steps and stared at the building that housed the store his brother once bragged about. Mark had dreams to make Hillborne's the best general store in Guthrie, and from the tales he told in the few letters he'd written their mother, he had succeeded. But the place had been boarded up for well over a year and a half—ever since Mark had tired of it and returned to St. Louis.

The facade of the two-story building sported a coat of faded tan paint with windows trimmed in dark green. He needed to hire someone to repaint it while he took inventory and worked on getting the inside cleaned up. He blew out a sigh. Once again he was tasked with cleaning up a mess his brother had made.

Baron jogged up the stairs and yanked on one of the loose boards that covered the front door. A splinter from the dry, grayed wood pierced his skin and he winced.

“Can I help you with somethin', mister?”

Casting a quick glance at his finger, Baron turned and faced a tall man with a badge on his vest. “Marshal?”

The man eyed him with a narrow gaze. “Hillborne?”

Baron nodded. “My last name is Hillborne, but I'm not the man you're probably thinking of. That was Mark. I'm Baron, his older brother.”

“Ah … there is quite a resemblance.”

“Yes, but also a difference.”

The marshal's expression relaxed. “Do you plan to reopen the store? Your brother did a brisk business here before he up and left town.”

“That's my goal. How soon that happens will depend on the condition of things on the inside.”

“Well, I ain't doin' nuthin' at the moment, so I can help get these boards off.”

Baron smiled. “I'd appreciate the assistance, Marshal.”

“The name's Bob Myers. Most folks just call me Bob. I reckon you can, too.”

“Thank you. You're welcome to call me Baron.” He bit down on the edge of the splinter, pulled it out, and spat it on the ground.

The marshal yanked on a board, creating a high-pitched screech as the nail pulled loose. “That's a might fancy moniker, if you ask me.”

Baron chuckled. “My mother was enamored with British royalty. Mark's real name is Marquis, like our father's middle name, but he refuses to use it. He decided he wanted to be called Mark—spelled with a
k
at the end, not a
q
—when he was seven, and it stuck. Of course, Mother stubbornly refuses to call him that.”

The marshal tossed down a plank he'd pried loose. “Guess I'm lucky to be just plain ol' Bob.”

“You're not a Robert?”

“Nope. My ma believed in short names. My brothers are Sam and Jim.”

Working together, they had all the boards down in a matter of minutes. Baron pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door with a loud click. He pushed open the door while the marshal attacked the boards on one of the windows. A thick layer of dust coated everything, but the store looked intact. “It's smaller than I expected.”

“That's probably because of the size of the town lot,” the marshal offered from the back door. “The lots were mapped out prior to settlement.”

“I remember Mark writing that in a letter to my parents. My brother was fortunate to win this lot in the land rush.” But then, Mark always loved a challenge.

He glanced around the dark store. Clothing hung against the wall opposite the counter, tools and work supplies along the front windows, and canned food, cooking supplies, and other housewares sat on shelves on the rear wall.

He blew out a sigh. Dusting everything and airing out the building would take a while, but he was thankful that no one had broken in and stolen anything. He returned to the porch and started removing the boards from the last window.

Mark had never said why he left Guthrie in such a hurry, especially with the store being a success. Baron thought he'd stayed just long enough to prove to their father that he was capable of making something of himself, but as usual, Mark had started something and not finished the task. If he had to hazard a guess, Baron figured his leaving had something to do with a woman. It wouldn't be the first time his brother had run from an upset female. Baron hoped no fuming father saw him and came after him with a rifle, thinking he was Mark.

“What do you want to do with these boards?” Bob asked.

Baron shrugged. “I guess we can put them out back.”

“If you don't need them, I know a family that lives in a dilapidated shack that could put them to good use.”

Baron waved his hand in the air. “Help yourself. I'm glad someone else can use them. Once I get the ones off the back windows, you can have those, too.”

“Tell you what. I'll take these over to the Borgmans then take a walk around town. If things are quiet, I'll come back and remove the boards myself. I reckon you have plenty to do inside.”

Baron's chest warmed. “That's mighty kind of you, Marshal.”

“Bob, remember. And you'll find most folks in Guthrie are kind.” He leaned against the doorjamb, looking relaxed, but his alert gaze scanned the buildings on the opposite side of the street. “Of course, there are always them that like to cause trouble, and with all the cowpokes that come in town on the weekends, we do get our fair share.”

Baron grabbed his satchel, anxious to get busy. The sooner he opened the store, the sooner he could make it profitable again. Then maybe he could sell it and go back to St. Louis. Guthrie was much larger than he'd expected, but it was still a young town. He longed for St. Louis and all the amenities it had to offer, especially its electric lights and indoor plumbing.

He set his satchel inside, found matches and a lantern, and lit it, as well as several others; then he took a walk down the aisles of the store. He had to admit the place was set up better than he'd expected and well stocked with supplies. His brother had done a decent job establishing the store, and he knew from his father that it had made a very nice profit. So what exactly had happened to send Mark packing so quickly that he just up and left everything?