Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star Heiress\The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart\The Gentleman's Bride Search\Family on the Range (77 page)

“Mother, answer him. We will help you, but we must know what we face.”

Lou made a sound in his throat. “Just leave her. She's probably packing up and leaving without a word. She's got a habit of doing that.” He cast a concerned look at Rose before turning his piercing gaze on Mary. “Come on. We've got things to do.”

“I can't leave her.”

“You can and you should.” His hand waved dismissively. “She doesn't want our help. Let her deal with her own problems. We've got enough of our own, plus what she added.”

“But—”

“Let's go.” His curt tone brooked no argument.

Still, she hesitated. “Mother, look at me. Please.”

Slowly Rose's gaze slid to meet Mary's. Dark and unblinking. She'd seen too much pain. Mary's heart hurt with the thought. She held out her hand, hoping her mother would take it. “You are welcome in my home.”

“Not if she doesn't say what's going on.”

Rose's gaze shifted to Lou. “I will say, but you won't like it.”

Mary dropped her hand, letting it curl into a slight ball at her side. A gust swept dirt up from the road, but her mother didn't even blink. She held Lou's look long and tight.

“There is a very bad man,” she pronounced. “And he wants the girl.”

Chapter Ten

“T
ell us something we don't know, lady.” Lou lowered the brim of his hat and glared.

“It doesn't matter if he wants her,” Mary said, ignoring her bothersome employer. “She's going home to her mother.” It was hard, but she forced those words out.

“This is true?” Her mother's brow arched.

“Yes.” She nodded to the sack in her mother's hands. “Is that everything you own?”

“Everything that's important.”

“What about your baskets? Should we go back and get them?”

“They are all sold. I will go with you, on one condition.”

Lou let out a loud, annoying snort. Mary formed a glare and flung it his way. He reached for her arm and none too gently propelled her a few feet from her mother. “What do you think you're doing?”

She pulled from his grasp. “I'm inviting my mother to stay with me. That is none of your concern.”

“She's not riding in my tin lizzie.”

Though she felt weak inside for fear, something compelled her to retort, “Is that so?”

Lou looked a bit taken aback at her spunk. But not angry. Relief unfurled inside.

“She's got a condition, Mary. That isn't right. This whole situation is wrong and I'm not going to stand by and watch her hurt you again.”

“She never hurt me.” At his look, she grimaced. “Not much,” she amended.

“Regardless, I don't trust any friend of Julia's. She says she's running from this guy who's looking for Josie, but what if she's working for him?”

It was true her mother and Julia had been friends, which was why her mother had left her to live with Julia and her son, Trevor, at the brothel. But Mary had no reason to believe that her mother had anything to do with her being sold to Mendez at eighteen and she certainly wouldn't hold another's actions against her.

“You're too suspicious.”

“Nope. I'm not. It happens all the time. Like I said, she doesn't need to be close to you. I'm putting my foot down about her.”

He had a very satisfied look on his face that would've made her smile if she wasn't so angry. Her hands fisted, palms slick. She swallowed hard.

“I do appreciate your concern, but you know nothing of why my mother left me with Julia. You have judged with no knowledge.” He made to interrupt and she held up a hand. “If you will not give us a ride, then we shall walk.”

“You're taking her side?” He had the temerity to look aghast.

“This is not about sides. It is about right and wrong. To leave my mother alone is wrong.”

“I see.”

“I hope that you do.” The words rolled off her tongue, succinct, surprising her.

Lou barked a quick laugh without mirth. “Fine, then. Try to fit her in.”

* * *

“Are we going to the picnic?” Josie watched as Mary drew a pan of snickerdoodles from her Glenwood gas-and-coal stove. She inspected them, feeling very thankful for the modern range she cooked with. The cookies were perfect.

“Do we have to go to church first?”

“Don't worry, you'll like it.” She patted Josie's hair, which hung in the two neat braids her mother had formed while Mary baked. “Miss Alma and I sing wonderful songs, and you're going to meet some of my friends.”

Mary didn't attend a traditional church but rather met with other Christians at a neighbor's property. Mr. Horn preached the sermons and sometimes people brought instruments. Mostly those with homes on the outskirts of the desert attended, though Miss Alma often came from town.

“Thank you for my dress, Miss Mary.” Josie's eyes sparkled, and Mary couldn't help grinning back. The girl had picked a lovely green to border her white dress. Mary had sewn it together and added matching bows.

“You're welcome, my sweet girl. Ask my mother if she can put your bows on.”

“Okay.” She skipped out of the room, her new Mary Janes tapping a happy tune.

These snickerdoodles were the last batch. She popped one that had cooled in her mouth, then set about searching for a basket to put them in. She sneaked a few into a hankie for the ride to Horn's and arranged the rest neatly.

Once done, she found Josie jabbering away to Rose, who sat with a smile on her face. The creases in her skin seemed less deep somehow, as though weight had gone from her soul.

Mary smiled and crossed the room. “It's time to go. Are you sure you won't come, Mother?”

“I am certain. Perhaps I'll take a rest.”

Her mother woke early now, perhaps because she'd spent more than the first half of her life sleeping through sunrises and well into the afternoon. Mary nodded and guided Josie toward the door.

“We'll be home in the afternoon.”

Rose nodded, and her eyes slipped closed.

As Mary shut the door to the house, she heard Josie shriek, “Mister Lou!”

She barely caught the girl by a pigtail as Lou's fancy Ford pulled up to the porch.

“Hop in, ladies.” He winked at them. “I'll be your chauffeur today.”

Josie squealed with delight. Mary frowned but helped the little girl into the car. She settled where Rose had sat yesterday.

Even now, a day later, it was a strange sensation to know she'd done something out of the ordinary, that she'd risked Lou's disapproval to do what she felt was right. But it had also been empowering and thrilling. For some reason, he'd allowed her to load her mother into his Ford and bring her back to the ranch.

Perhaps he'd felt bad for her at the time. After all, she'd brought up her past, and she knew the things she'd gone through caused him grief. She didn't wish to use her past to get her way, however.

“You coming?” He beeped his horn, making her start. Her basket tilted.

“If these snickerdoodles spill...” she warned.

“Yes, ma'am.” He shot her that grin of his.

Mouth tight to cover the ratcheting speed of her pulse, she scurried to the passenger side and loaded up. The trip to Horn's homestead took almost an hour, thanks to the bumpy, rutted road. A horse could handle the trek much faster. Josie and Lou kept up a stream of chatter while Mary attempted to darn an old sock. A useless endeavor considering the uneven terrain. Finally, they arrived. Josie bounced in the back as she waited for Mary to exit the car. As soon as she stepped foot outside, Josie escaped, slipping past her and running toward Horn's place.

Families milled around, unpacking lunches beneath the shaded trees.

“Josie, come back.”

“Aww.” She sped back, though. A good listener.

Mary handed her the blanket she'd brought. “Could you please find a place for us to sit? And if you see Mr. Horn, let him know I'll be there shortly.”

“Okeydokey!” Josie popped a smile and snatched the blanket. She ran toward the other kids, who played near a sturdy elm. She was easy to see from this distance.

“She's going to get dirty quick,” Lou remarked.

“I know.” Mary smiled. “You may pick us up in four hours or so.”

His head cocked to the side. Morning light danced in his eyes. “Thought I'd stay and keep an eye on things.”

“Surely you do not believe Josie's uncle will find his way here?”

He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. If he did, we'd spot him right away. Either way, it's my job to keep an eye on the girl until we get her home safe to her ma.”

“Of course,” she said, refusing to dwell on the disappointment that filled her at his words. “Come along. You know many of these people, I believe. At least by face.”

“But I plan on sticking close to you.” He winked again, and a flush warmed her skin. “May I carry your basket?”

She allowed him to take it. Not knowing what to say, she picked her way toward the picnic area. Neighbors had spread their blankets in a grassy area beneath a sprawling elm. Children frolicked in the grass, shrieking and laughing. Josie ran amidst them, her giggles lost within the group.

“They having a service today?” Lou asked beside her.

“Probably a little something.” Did he sound worried? She glanced at him and saw that he did indeed look unnaturally tense. “Mr. Horn is easy on the ears.”

“Not worried about that.”

“What, then?”

“There you are!” Miss Alma's bright voice cut off anything he planned to say next. “I shall take your wonderful desserts. I saw that darling girl of yours. Is she an orphan?”

“No.” Was it horrible to wish she was? Battling a sense of guilt, Mary gestured to the basket. “I hope they'll do.”

“Of course they will. Now, did you bring James?”

“No...”

“Tsk, tsk. I needed to speak with the man.” Miss Alma whisked the basket from Lou, barely offering him a glance before tottling off toward the tables set up near the trees.

“She's a bundle of energy, huh?”

“You really don't have to stay.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. For how long had she been praying Lou would attend service? Maybe there'd even been a secret hope inside that he'd change his views on God, soften a bit. She'd never had the nerve to pray out loud for meals until his niece, Gracie, had come. That had been how ornery both James and Lou became, though James tended to approach the mention of God in a more intellectual manner.

But Lou closed up completely. All emotion, much like Trevor. As though he'd been hurt. She sidled a look toward him. The breeze ruffled through his hair. He caught her staring and gave her a tight smile.

“I'm staying,” he said. “There's no way I'm missing your desserts.”

She sniggered. “You'll be going back to work and needing new clothes if you keep this eating up.”

“A well-fed man is a happy man.”

“I wish that was true.”

“Me, too.” He sighed and looked toward the horizon. The mountains rose sharply against the sky, steep and dangerous. Much like the feelings spreading through her.

Yet she didn't know how to stop this warmth...no, this fire. She'd always felt tender toward Lou. How could she not? He'd taken her in at the darkest moment of her life. Kept her safe.

But lately...things were changing, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

* * *

Stuck in God talk.

Last thing he wanted, but here he was, settling down on the blanket, with Mary only spaces away from him, her scent mingling with the aromas of fried chicken and flowers. Mr. Horn had instructed everyone to take seats so they could have a short preaching before the picnic.

It had been years since he'd attended any kind of Christian event. What had coerced him now was beyond his ken, but he'd just have to starch his backbone and ignore the rumbling of his stomach.

Truth be told, a picnic had sounded bunches better than sitting home by himself. James planned to stay home reading, but Lou preferred action of some sort. He wasn't a reader, never had been.

Josie came scrambling over, hair flying in her face. She stopped in front of him and brushed knotty strands from her eyes. “We gotta sit still now, don't we?”

Lou made a face and she giggled. Plopping down beside him, she leaned her head onto his arm. A lump formed in his throat but he didn't move away.

Horn moved into sight. People had arranged their blankets in rows, just like a church. The man went to the front.

“Morning, everyone.”

The group replied with murmurs, mornings, et cetera. An interesting mix of folks here. Mary wasn't the only Paiute. There was also a Chinese man on a far blanket. Miss Alma with her fancy hat and pleated dress sat next to a family who wore homespun clothes and no shoes.

Feeling more comfortable in this mix of people, he leaned back on his elbows and stretched his legs out. He felt Mary's glance but got caught in Horn's words and didn't meet it.

“Troubles come our way. Hardships.” Horn cleared his throat. “But God brings us through. He delivers us from the snare of the enemy and fills our souls with peace. I thought today it would be nice to read the nineteenth chapter of Psalms and sing a few songs before we dig into these scrumptious vittles the ladies worked up.”

“Pa fried up his special chicken recipe,” a young girl called out.

Horn chuckled. “He sure did. Who'd like to read?”

Miss Alma stood. Lou heard the bustle of her voluminous skirts from where he sat.

“I shall,” she said. She adjusted the petite glasses on her face and held up a heavy-looking book. Her voice surrounded them and suddenly everything faded but the clarity of her words.

“‘Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him. I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him. I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him, and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.'”

Lou squirmed on the blanket, glad when she was finished. A heavy sense of regret crept through him. For what, he wasn't sure. Miss Alma sat and then, suddenly, Mary stood up beside him. She opened her mouth and sang “Amazing Grace.” The others followed until the entire area filled with the sound of voices.

Mary's voice was a husky soprano. He'd heard her humming throughout the years as she worked but never had she sang so lovely, so invitingly, of God and His grace.

The song he used to sing. Years ago. As a child and young man. The God he'd trusted. Mary thought Him worthy of trust. Still...Josie wiggled beside him. He glanced at her blond curls and thought of Sarah and Abby. Their passing had been so long ago. Why did the memories still hurt so much?

He blinked as the singing faded and an odd silence descended on the group. Then Mary began “How Great Thou Art.” A chill rippled through his body at her words.

Her face was relaxed, her lips rounding and changing as she sang. Her hands lifted and swelled with her words. She was happy here. At peace.