Love Inspired Historical June 2014 Bundle: Lone Star Heiress\The Lawman's Oklahoma Sweetheart\The Gentleman's Bride Search\Family on the Range (92 page)

He'd shot down her profession of love so easily.... Had she misread him this entire time? But surely he did not feel only brotherly things for her. No, he was a man in flux and there was nothing she could do about that. Feeling grim, she squeezed into the room.

The lawyer hadn't bothered sitting at the little table with its scrawny chairs. Instead, the men crowded into the small space, filling it with the scent of cologne and rustling suits. Lou's blue jeans were out of place and yet he still managed to look more comfortable than everyone else.

Even Trevor waited near the wall, his eyes sympathetic. She flashed him a weak smile and took a spot in the corner. Another man stood near Lou, perhaps a fellow agent? She huddled against the wall, feeling its bareness at her back.

The lawyer cleared his throat. “This is a highly unusual situation. Unforeseen, actually. The will is binding and unchangeable.” His eyes skittered to Mary. Did he feel her fear? She blinked and looked away.

She found Lou staring at her. His face was unreadable, his thumbs hooked into the pockets of his jeans, and yet she thought she detected regret on his face. Or maybe she imagined it. With difficulty she pulled her attention from him and focused on the lawyer who held the rest of her dreams in his hands.

Mentally she shook herself. No. God held her dreams. She must trust Him because she had nothing left, no one left, to turn to.

The lawyer held up the packet, which looked cumbersome to her. “Are all parties ready for the reading of the will?” he asked.

Chapter Twenty-Six

G
od worked amazing wonders.

Mary watched passengers board the train in front of her. People milled around her, their voices melding with the sound of brakes and steam. Dirt and perfume mingled in the air, stirred by the excitement of those whose lives would change with a train ride, if only temporarily.

“When do we get to go on?” Josie tugged the hem of Mary's dress, her eagerness palpable.

Mary grinned at her and pulled her close. “As soon as Trevor returns.”

They'd stayed in Portland a few days longer, going to the funeral and making arrangements for Josie's home, which Josie had inherited in the will. It had become obvious why Mr. Langdon wanted Josie out of the picture. She was a wealthy little girl now, but if she died, the money went to Mr. Langdon as next of kin. The lawyer had pronounced Mary, of all people, to be Josie's legal guardian. Apparently Mrs. Silver had changed her will at the last moment. Not only was Mary the named guardian, but she was also in charge of funds for the child's care.

They spent the nights at the hotel, and Josie slept in Mary's room with her. Though joy filled her at the thought of taking care of her precious girl, at being a mother, she hadn't been able to sleep well.

Her thoughts always returned to Lou.

Beside her, Gracie bobbed up and down on antsy feet. “It's been so long since I was home. Has anything changed?”

“Not quite. I had planned to paint the sitting room but someone spilled the bucket.” Mary winked at Josie, whose smile widened in the burgeoning dawn light. “Maybe we can try again.”

“Ooh, I'd love to help paint,” Gracie gushed. “A passionate purple. Or maybe a subdued pear. It will be just the thing, except... Well, I must be careful of the fumes.”

Fumes? Mary looked at her friend and saw the secret smile playing about her lips. Gracie's fingers splayed across her belly and knowledge sunk in. “You must be very careful, indeed. No ladders, either,” she said.

They smiled at each other, the moment bonded by friendship.

“Can I get on the ladder? I won't fall,” Josie added, a determined look in her sparkling eyes.

“We'll see,” Mary said.

“That means no.” A pout curved Josie's lips.

“Let's go.” Trevor pushed through the crowd and beckoned them.

Josie's hand in hers, Mary followed Gracie and Trevor to the edge of the train. She was just about to board when a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

She turned to see Lou, mouth tight, eyes shadowed, his hat lying at a crooked angle on his head.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Now?”

The train whistled, signaling a warning. Mary looked up. Gracie gave her a thumbs-up and put her hand on Josie's shoulder, who was looking everywhere and hopping on one foot. Biting her lip, Mary moved away from the train, Lou right behind her.

He had filled her every waking moment. His smile. His kiss. The way she could talk to him, or even yell at him, and he didn't hurt for it. He didn't reject her.

Until she'd offered love.

“What do you need?” she asked now, more curt than necessary.

He studied her, gaze serious. “I need to know we're still friends.”

Friends?
She wanted to slap him at that moment. It was a shocking urge, so surprising that she clasped her fingers to keep from acting on it. Was it his fault that he still loved his wife? Could she fault a man for such loyalty? No, and yet her heart was splintering within her chest.

The lady means nothing to me.

He'd meant it more than she'd realized.

“Mary, I'm serious. I value your friendship and the way you've served our makeshift family. I know that lately I've been bossy. Demanding. But I did it for your own good.” He doffed his hat and placed it against his chest. “I know I was wrong, though. That you're an adult capable of taking care of not only herself, but a little girl. She's something, isn't she?” A wistful look crossed his face, so at odds with the jut of his strong jawline and determined eyes.

Mary swallowed. “She is. And you and I are friends, always.” Much as it hurt to say, she could never deny him that.

“You've always had such loyalty. I envy it. My own family refused to speak to me for years because of my work with the bureau, and it's tough for me to forgive them. But I look at how you treat your ma, I see the love of God in your actions....” He trailed off before saying, “The way you live encourages me to live better.”

She shifted, uncomfortable with his praise. With the entire situation, really. If he only knew. She looked at him and saw how he gazed at her, his eyes like sapphires in the sun. She wanted to remember this moment forever. Wanted to memorize the lines of his face, to touch them and carve them into the tips of her fingers, to hold on to always.

“I'm not perfect,” she blurted. “Langdon said my mother led him to me. All she cared about was finding my father. If not for her, I would have never been kidnapped. I might be married, with a family. Emotionally whole.” Her voice caught and she couldn't continue.

Her throat felt tight and raw. She waited for Lou's shock, but it didn't come. Instead, he winced. The minuscule movement stunned her. It was a physical blow. She staggered back, the pulse of her blood surging and then slowing, her lungs constricting until she thought she might never breathe again.

And yet she did. A deep, oxygen-filled inhalation borne of necessity.

“You knew,” she whispered on her exhale.

“I knew.” His eyes met hers. Apologetic.

Her hand shot out and connected with his cheek. He didn't move, not even when the mark from her hand suffused an angry red. She swallowed hard, her whole body aflame, her palm smarting. He'd known...for how long? How many secrets did he hold? How much more did he keep from her? She'd been very wrong to trust him.

“Secrets do not make a friendship,” she said coldly. His face was blank, as if unaffected by her anger. So be it. She was done with this man, with everything. Never again would she allow herself to dream of him, to relive his recent kisses and his tender words over the years.

Shaking, she whirled and forced her trembling knees to march to the train, just as it let out another ear-splitting whistle.

Let Lou seek his revenge. Let him ignore the God who cared for him. Let him reject the woman who would have given him her all.

She was done with him and everything he represented.

Her eyes burned as she stepped onto the train and searched the seats for a familiar face. She had Josie, and she was going home.

She would have a family, with or without Lou Riley.

* * *

The heart was the biggest betrayer of all.

Mary discovered that unfortunate tidbit when she couldn't stop dreaming about Lou during the journey home. She'd see him stretching out his hand, asking for help, but her pride kept her heart far from him.

No.

Her broken feelings were the culprit, not pride, for even seeing him in her dreams caused her to wake with dried tears upon her cheek.

The bright spot in her life was Josie. Between her and Gracie's excited chatter, there was little time during the days' travel to pine over Lou. Only at night did he steal her sleep.

Finally, weary and dirty, they arrived at the ranch. Josie pounded up the steps, yelling for James. Gracie bounced around in excitement before grabbing Trevor for a long kiss. He embraced her, the quiet smile on his face testament to his love for his young bride.

God had changed him so deeply.... Could He do the same for Mary? Give her peace with how things had ended with Lou?

Feeling unsettled and scattered, Mary stepped out of the neighbor's wagon. James had been unable to meet their train due to ranch duties, and so Mr. Horn had come to fetch them.

“Don't forget the potluck next month,” he said from his perch on the wagon seat. “It's our last meeting with food before the cold weather shows up. We've got a special afternoon of preaching and then supper and music. Miss Alma has everything planned out.”

“We'll be there,” Mary said feebly.

Mr. Horn inclined his head and then took off, his team of horses digging up the road and clouding the air with desert dirt. Summer in Harney County was dry and sunny. The climate remained the same. Not like her feelings, which had been flung about in a tornado of change.

Everyone had gone into the house, but she stayed outside, longing for freedom from the cage she'd put herself in. Not only did she feel guilty for saying what she had to Lou, but she dreaded seeing her mother.

It had been easy to forgive her when she'd understood a woman's need to find her husband. It was much harder now, knowing the nightmare of her past could have been prevented if only her mother had kept quiet. Examined more deeply Langdon's inquiry. Anything but flippantly giving out her daughter's whereabouts in exchange for her husband's.

She gripped her luggage and slowly walked to her house, leaving the ranch house behind. She must face her mother at some point. Now, with no audience, seemed best.

And yet her feet dragged. Knowing Trevor's mother had sold her hurt, but she'd been aware of Julia's character and hadn't been surprised. What her mother had done was a different matter.

A strong wind blew at her hair. How she wished it would also blow away this knowledge of her mother's unwitting betrayal.

Eventually she reached the house. Her mother stood near the gate, hair unplaited, eyes the deep black of the Paiute. Grimness painted her face into grooves and shadows. Her skirt whipped around her ankles and familiarity washed over Mary.

She'd wanted her mother here. Longed to see her restored to the laughing, beautiful woman of her youth. Maybe somehow she'd thought this would do the same for her, that if her mother was healed of her past, then she could be, also.

Did that mean she'd only been thinking of herself? That her motives had always been more selfish than she'd realized?

She stepped forward, eyes on her mother, a frown niggling at her lips.

“My daughter.” Rose spoke quietly, and the breeze diluted her words into a faint sound of pleading.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't face her or accuse her. Better to leave things in the past.

“This morning James brought me a telegram from Lou,” said Rose without blinking. “He wrote that you know what I never wished to confess. Do you understand his hatred for me now? Can you see why I hesitated to intrude in your home?”

Mary's mouth was so dry she could taste the desert upon her tongue.

“I have packed my bags and stayed only to tell you one thing—I am sorry, with the deepest regret a human can feel. This sorrow is a wound within my soul that does not heal. Nor should it. I have prayed to the spirits that you may have a good life. A blessed life with strong loves and much goodness.” Rose blinked and a single tear edged from beneath her lashes. “You deserved more than what I gave you.”

“Mother...” Mary dipped her head, hiding from the pain on her mother's face. She wanted to comfort her somehow, to ease her pain.
God help me
.

Seventy times seven.

The scripture reverberated through her. Like a seedling on the wind, dropped into the soil of her heart, and with her acceptance of His words, a new feeling spread through her. She lifted her head, feeling different, alive, helped. She stepped forward and before her mother could respond, embraced her.

She hugged her tightly for several moments, inhaling the wind in her mother's hair and the cedar scent that clung to her skin from her basket weaving.

When she felt able to speak, she pulled back and looked her mother in the eyes. “You speak of spirits and blessing. I am blessed and healed by One, my mother. The One who created me. He also created you, and loves you. Though my life has had pain, it has not lacked comfort.”

Rose nodded slowly, her lips trembling. “I have seen the peace on your face and wondered at it.”

“Yes.” Mary felt the smile start in her heart and work to her face. “My Bible says God is our comfort so that we can be a comfort to others.”

“The white man's God is trouble.” Her mother frowned.

Mary's smile wavered. “No. He has been my peace. And now, in His name, I offer you forgiveness.”

Rose shivered as though the parched breath of desert wind sliced through her very bones.

“Please stay and live with me,” Mary continued, feeling the wobble in her voice. “I love you, and though what you did hurts, I know we can be healed.”

“How can you forgive me?” Her mother's eyes welled with tears. They dripped down her cheeks, filling the grooves like flooded riverbeds.

“Because...no one is perfect. Not one person but Christ Himself. I choose this path, Mother. Please walk it with me.” Mary held out her hand, afraid, hoping her mother would take it, that she would pass from the shadowlands where she'd lived for too long.

After what seemed an interminable wait, her mother reached for her and burst into tears. Taken aback but feeling weepy herself, Mary allowed her mother to gather her into her arms.

She hadn't known she would forgive her mother, not until she'd seen that pain upon her face. Forgiveness was the right thing to do, and she hoped she would have done it anyway, whether or not her mother felt regret. But she did, and it was as though a piece of Mary's heart finally felt respite.

She rested her cheek against her mother's shoulder, and her thoughts turned to Lou. She hoped he'd find Mr. Langdon, because she had no doubt Josie's uncle would come looking for them at the ranch—it was only a matter of time.

Then perhaps Lou would run to Asia again. Maybe stay there this time, because to face his sorrows, to forgive God for the pain in his life, had proved too hard for him.

She hoped the best for him, she really did. But she also hoped for herself, because there was one part of her heart, a large portion, that might never be free unless she could let him go.