Lady Outlaw (24 page)

“You ready to talk?” Grandma Jones asked.

Jennie had almost forgotten her grandmother sitting there. She pushed aside her plate, her stomach too wound in knots to eat. She fingered one of the bills. “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake, Grandma.”

“Oh, honey.” Grandma Jones tipped up Jennie’s chin, her eyes warm and caring. “That’s what life’s about. You start down one path and realize you should have taken another. The important thing is recognizing when you need to switch.”

Jennie set down the bills and took a steadying breath.

“Did you ever make any big mistakes?” she asked as she stood and took her plate to the sink.

Grandma Jones laughed. “I’ve made hundreds and hundreds of little ones—like we all do. Made my share of big ones, too—like leaving home so young and writing only sporadically. I didn’t even make it back to Illinois after my mother’s death. I don’t know if my father and sisters ever quite forgave me that.” She clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “But there’s one decision I still shudder to think I almost got wrong.”

“What was it?”

“I almost didn’t marry your grandfather.”

Jennie whirled around. “What happened?”

“That’s a long story.” Her grandmother smiled and nodded at Jennie’s vacant chair. Jennie returned to her seat. Anticipation tingled through her, nearly erasing her worries—this wasn’t a story she’d heard before. “I met your grandpa when I was finishing up my third year of teaching. We courted some, and I liked him very much. But I decided to accept my aunt’s offer to spend the summer traveling with her.

“I’d always wanted to go to Europe and New York City. Then your grandfather started talking marriage and settling down. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to marry him, but I also felt this was my one and only chance to see the world. So I told him he’d have to wait until I came home to marry me.”

“Did you go and see all those places?” Jennie tried to picture seeing the ocean or a castle, things she’d only read about in her grandmother’s collection of books.

Grandma Jones shook her head, her gaze distant. “I never went. When I climbed aboard the steamboat to leave, I had the strongest feeling I needed to get right back off, find Matthew Jones and accept his hand in marriage.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “That’s what I did. We were married a week later. He was such a faith-filled man—always sharing his love of the Lord with others. I don’t know if I would have grown as close to God as I have if I hadn’t married your grandfather.” She traced a grain in the tabletop. When she spoke again, her voice sounded full of unshed tears, “Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for nudging me hard enough to get off that boat.”

“Didn’t you regret not seeing all those lovely places, though?”

Her grandmother lifted her chin. “Sometimes. The only places I’ve seen since then have been mostly wilderness.” She chuckled. “But usually the hardest thing to do is the right one. I know now that the people and the God I love are far more important to me than seeing Paris or London.”

Jennie rested her chin on her hands. She hadn’t put God and the people in her life ahead of material things, like the ranch. A new wave of remorse ran through her.

“I’m sorry, Grandma.”

“Whatever for?” Grandma Jones reached over and gave Jennie’s arm a gentle squeeze.

“You must have missed going to church all these years.”

“Yes, but I knew it’d be hard for you to return—at least until you were ready.”

“It’s not that I stopped believing in God. I just didn’t want to hear the rumors about my mother. I didn’t want to face seeing the possible truth in the eyes of all those people whispering about her.” Jennie lowered her hands to the table. “I couldn’t face feeling responsible for her leaving.”

“Now, Jennie girl. Nothing they said is true. And you certainly weren’t at fault for your mama leaving.” She rubbed Jennie’s arm. “Your mother left because she couldn’t handle life out here anymore. She loved your father, but she didn’t share his dream of building a home out here in the West. She went along with it, moved from one place to another, starting over again and again without complaining, but she couldn’t be truly happy that way.” Grandma Jones released a sigh. “She wasn’t used to that kind of life, not after growing up in a wealthy house with everything she needed in easy reach. She still loved you and Will and your father, though. She told me so the night before she left. She just had to figure out what she truly needed to be happy. I think if she hadn’t taken ill, she might have come back and done just fine.”

Jennie sniffed back fresh tears. “I’d like to think so.”

Grandma Jones pulled Jennie onto her knees and gave her a fierce hug. Jennie embraced her and then rested her head in her grandmother’s lap. “Your mother did have a backbone on her. Don’t think she didn’t. To start over like that, you have to have something in you. You’ve gotten that from both your parents.” She stroked Jennie’s hair. “You’re strong, Jennie. But don’t make the mistake of being so strong you forget to let others help you. We all need that.”

Jennie swiped at her runny nose with her hand and nodded. She’d tried to be strong for so long, but she’d done it alone. Now she needed help, and surely she could be humble enough to ask.

Lifting her head, Jennie forced herself to meet her grandmother’s eyes. “This is one of those times I need help, Grandma. But first, I have to tell you something. Something I’m ashamed to admit...”

* * *

Jennie slipped into her room and softly shut the door behind her. She guessed it must be after midnight, but strangely, she felt more awake than she had this morning.

After changing into her nightdress, she started to climb into bed. The trunk beneath the windowsill drew her notice. A longing to bridge the gap of misunderstanding between her and her mother pushed Jennie to her feet.

Kneeling before the trunk, she opened the lid and drew out the unopened letter. She stared at the wrinkled surface, imagining her mother’s hands—those soft, delicate hands—sealing her words inside.

Jennie swallowed the anxiety pulsing through her as she tore open the envelope and removed two sheets of paper, filled with the faded but familiar handwriting of her mother.

Using the trunk as a seat, she pulled back the curtains and read her letter by moonlight.

August 10, 1863

Dearest Jennie,

I hope this finds you well and happy. Your father wrote and told me what a great help you’ve been to him, and I thank you for it. He also says you’ve grown taller this past year. I can hardly imagine my little girl a grown woman now.

Your hair has probably darkened, though I imagine it will always stay that rich red color that you inherited from my side of the family. With your pretty brown eyes, I cannot help but think what a beauty you must be. I wish so badly I could see and hold you. Are you too old, daughter, to sit again on your mother’s lap, resting your head against my shoulder as you used to?

How are Will and Grandma Jones? Be certain to listen to your grandmother; she is a wise woman. Are the cattle faring well? And your father? He seems content enough, but I often wonder what heartache I have inflicted on him and you children.

Every day I live with the guilt of running away, but I no longer felt capable of being a good mother. I thought returning to my home would heal my heart, but now I’ve found I left it out West with you.

Never be ashamed, my dear girl, to stumble about sometimes, but also find the courage to ask for help when you need it most. I pray to God each day for forgiveness. I know now I cannot move through life without His help. Remember that, Jennie.

I have often packed my things with plans to return before I unpack them again. Perhaps it is cowardice of me, but I fear your rejection. Maybe one day I will be able to forgive myself and come home at last. Until then, know I love you. You will be an extraordinary woman, stronger and more capable in that wilderness than I ever was. But leave room in your heart for love and softness too, Jennie. Without both strength and tenderness, you may find life much more difficult.

Please write, if you wish to. I long for any word from my family. I shall write again soon if I am able. I seem to have left my good health at the ranch, but do not worry. I am to see the doctor here soon, and everything shall be fine.

All my love,

Your mother, Olivia Wilson Jones.

Jennie could hardly make out her mother’s signature through the tears spilling down her face. She’d never wept so much in her life.

Leaning her head against the cool windowpane, she allowed her anguish to flow uninhibited. She cried for her mother’s pain and for her own, for her selfishness in not reading the letter years earlier, when she could have written back. For so long, she had concentrated only on the hurt she felt, never thinking of the shame and suffering her mother might have experienced.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she whispered into the dark, hoping and praying her mother could somehow hear her words, even in heaven. “I should have written. I should have tried to see you, at least once before you died. I’m so very sorry.”

Jennie covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound of her sobs. She didn’t want to wake the rest of the family. When she could breathe normally again, she read the letter through once more, then tucked it again inside the envelope. Instead of putting it in the trunk, she returned to her bed and slipped the precious pages beneath her pillow.
To read often.

She climbed beneath the covers, but a thought made her sit up. Her mother had told her to remember God. That meant voicing to Him the truth she’d told her grandmother and Caleb tonight. His help was the real one she needed in the days ahead. Feeling a bit awkward, she knelt beside her bed, unable to remember the last time she’d gotten down on her knees to pray.

Perhaps if I’d prayed earlier I wouldn’t be in such a mess.
The realization both surprised and humbled her. Bowing her head, she silently reviewed everything she’d done the past eight months, starting with the day she had left the bank, overwhelmed with despair at possibly losing the ranch. When she finished cataloging all her wrongdoings, she tentatively pled for forgiveness.

Once she ran out of things to say, Jennie ended her prayer and sat on the bed. She felt nothing at first, then slowly a feeling of peace began to spread throughout her body. A feeling similar to the one she’d felt during the singing at church. A feeling almost like an embrace.

She kept still for a few minutes, hugging her knees to her chest, as she relished the emotion. When it faded, she got into bed, feeling hope for the first time in months.

Chapter Eighteen

C
aleb woke the next morning feeling like he hadn’t slept much at all. He hadn’t been able to find a comfortable position, and when he had finally drifted to sleep, he had a disturbing dream. It wasn’t his usual nightmare. This time when he burst into the cabin, he found Jennie there with Nathan, wearing a bandanna over her face and carting her pistol.

She’s given all that up,
he reassured himself as he climbed out of bed and got dressed. No matter how troubling his dreams, he’d seen the remorse in Jennie’s eyes last night and felt confident she’d accept his money to help the ranch. Besides, without Nathan around to help her, she’d be forced to give up robbing stage thieves.

Relieved he wouldn’t have to say goodbye to the family, Caleb hurried down the stairs, eager to see Jennie. He planned to take her into his arms and give her a good, long kiss, even in the company of her brother and grandmother.

Caleb skidded to a stop inside the kitchen doorway. Grandma Jones and Will were moving about the kitchen getting breakfast onto the table, but Jennie wasn’t there. Alarm began to worm its way up his throat.

Maybe she’s in the barn, getting an early start on chores.

“Morning,” he said, relieving the stack of plates from Grandma Jones. As he placed them around the table, he noted there were only three, not four. “Did Jennie eat already?” He kept his voice as casual as he could, despite the sudden pounding of his heart.

“She left about half an hour ago.” Grandma Jones took a seat and motioned for Will and Caleb to join her. “Said she had some business to take care of in town this morning.”

Caleb gripped the plate in his hand so hard he thought it might snap. She didn’t still plan to go through with the robbery, did she? No, she wouldn’t. Not after their talk last night, not after he’d given her his hard-earned money. “Will she be long?”

“Probably most of the day, but she said not to worry.”

Something in the woman’s green eyes told Caleb that Grandma Jones knew more than she was saying. But she wouldn’t know about Jennie robbing stage thieves, so it didn’t matter what lie her granddaughter had told in order to go to town alone.