Texas Brides Collection (28 page)

Grace tried to swallow the lump in her throat but couldn’t quite manage the feat. “I never knew.”

The leaves began to rustle as the north wind danced through them. “I wanted to protect you and keep you to myself, and when I realized I couldn’t…”

His voice faded as he beckoned her to come to him. “I’m so sorry. I was a stupid, stubborn man,” he said, enveloping her in his arms. “Forgive me.”

It took a few minutes, but Grace finally found her voice. “Yes,” she whispered. “Of course.”

Too soon, the judge pulled away and motioned to the rockers. “Sit down, Grace. We’ve got ten years to catch up on.”

They settled beside each other, Grace’s heart still pounding at the feelings coursing through her. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, her face turned so her father could not see.

“I suppose you’ll be coming back with Tom and me,” he said casually. “I’d be honored to have you and the children home again.”

“Father, Texas is home now.” She paused. “For my children and for me. Someday I hope Bennett will take over this place and love it like his daddy did.”

“His father was a good man, Gracie,” the judge said slowly. “Another of my regrets is that Ben didn’t live to hear me say so.”

Grace smiled. “Life’s too short to hold any regrets.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said as he leaned back in the rocker and gripped the arms. For the next few minutes, he told the most amazing story of how Jed had come to him demanding certain conditions for Grace and the children. Before he finished, her father had agreed to all of them. Asking forgiveness, he added, had been the one stipulation the ranger did not demand. That, he stated, would have to come from the judge’s own heart.

“So you see, after I got over the man’s impertinence, I saw the point.” He gave her a sideways look, then reached over to cover her hand with his. “He was right and I was wrong. I just hope someday I’ll earn your forgiveness.”

Grace studied the unfamiliar blue veins and dark spots decorating the back of his familiar hand, then slowly dared a look in his direction. “My forgiveness is something you don’t have to earn, Father. It’s always been there for you.”

This truth, discovered in the wee hours of the morning, had set her free. She’d released her anger for her father to the Lord, and He’d taken it all away, replacing it with love.

Unfortunately, none of the Scriptures helped her to release Jed. All through the winter, even after the judge left for New Orleans while Tom stayed behind to help Shaw run the landing, she felt the ranger’s absence. The children often asked of him, but she refused to allow them the hope he would return as he’d promised. While she rocked Adam in his beautiful cradle, she waited for letters that never arrived and dreamed of a life she would never have.

Then one day, while she was turning the soil for her spring garden, a lone rider approached. Jedadiah Harte had returned. Dirty hands and all, Grace ran toward him, laughing like a child. Jed slid off the horse and met her halfway. “I missed you, Grace,” he said as he wrapped her in his arms. “I’m a poor excuse for a letter writer. Thought I’d tell you in person.”

He smelled of soap, sunshine, and trail dust, a glorious combination. She could only nod before the first tear fell. When he released her to hold her at arms’ length, he wiped it away with his sleeve.

“How long can you stay?” she asked, unable to think of anything but silly small talk with him staring at her.

“Well, now,” he said slowly. “That’s a good question. The fellows I hired to work the ranger office in Galveston are good hands. Don’t have to worry about that part of things. As for the preaching, it’s something I can do just about anywhere. I’m a right decent carpenter and figured someday to build a church of my own.” He paused and looked unsure of himself for a moment. “I had a mind to ask you if I could stay awhile.”

“Oh?” Her hopes soared. Could he possibly mean what she thought he meant? “How long is ‘awhile’?”

Jed smiled his lopsided smile and her heart began to pound. Her fingers sought his, and when they entwined, she felt a deep peace settle around her. “I bothered the Lord about us all winter, Grace, and He kept sending me to the same verse you quoted the day I left. The one about the Lord’s grace.”

“I didn’t think you were listening.”

“I tried not to.” Jed shook his head. “I have a mind to stay and grow old with you, Grace,” he said softly. “If you’ll have me to wed, that is.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two riders approaching. “Jed, who is that?”

He smiled. “The reverend offered his services if I could convince you to say yes. And the other one’s your father. He intends to give away the bride.”

“Is that so?” She stifled a giggle. “Seems like you were pretty sure I’d agree to take you on.”

“I don’t miss,” he said with a grin. A moment later, with the riders fast approaching and her still silent, his grin dissolved and worry crossed his handsome face. “Grace,” he said slowly, “you didn’t answer me.”

“I didn’t, did I?” She allowed another moment of quiet to pass between them before allowing her happiness to show. “Oh yes, I reckon I’ll marry you.”

Jed threw back his head and let out a yell, one she’d heard Ben imitate many times. Lifting her gaze skyward, she smiled. The little part of her heart where Ben’s memory lay was full to overflowing with love, and now the rest of it would be filled as well.

For my girls:

Carolyn, Angela, Alisha
and
Ashley, Shayna, and Emily

August 1867

J
enny Duncan pulled her father’s shotgun off the wall and hoped she’d not have to use it. A stranger on horseback ambled toward the house from the dirt road to town. He wore an army slouch hat and carried a full load in his saddlebags. A long shape, maybe a rifle, stuck out behind him as he gazed about the property.

There had been too much death lately; she couldn’t risk appearing vulnerable on the isolated farm, even if she were as strong and tall as a man. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a coal-black crow light on the split-rail fence to ruffle feathers and caw. Jenny tightened her grip.

The horseman stopped the handsome chestnut mare and tugged a canteen off the saddle horn. He took a long pull, wiping his plaid shirtsleeve across his mouth when he finished.

Jenny waited by the front door, glancing toward the south pasture where her teenage brothers were supposed to be working the ripening summer hay. Tom’s no-good yellow dog, Sal, lay with her head on her paws, just watching. Curious, that; they didn’t get many visitors five miles outside of Nechesville, Texas. Jenny nudged her. “Go get the boys.”

The lazy mutt flicked her ears. Her husband used to say his dogs didn’t need any training, they knew instinctively what to do. Jenny blew out her cheeks. Maybe how to hunt but not how to protect the house, much less her. Where were her brothers?

The stranger rode forward into the yard, and Jenny stepped out on the porch, shotgun to her shoulder. “Don’t come any closer.”

The hat’s brim shaded his face, and she couldn’t get a good look at him. He put up his hands. “I’m a surveyor, traveling with Colonel J. S. Hanks. Put down your weapon.”

“I don’t see Jimmie Hanks anywhere.” She nudged the dog. “Git.”

Sal looked up with tired eyes and dragged herself down the two porch steps and lifted her nose to the air. Jenny smelled the sweet clover from the nearby pasture but doubted the dog savored the same scent.

“Come here, pup,” the man said in a deep voice.

The traitor dog picked up her floppy paws and jogged to the stranger. The man slipped off his horse and squatted to rub her belly. The horse whinnied.

“Don’t come any closer.” Jenny steadied the gun against her body.

“Nice place you got here. Are you Mrs. Duncan? Could you maybe put your shotgun down? It makes me feel a mite nervous.” He faced Sal, but his voice carried in a clear commanding way.

“How do you know my name?”

“Is your husband home? He’ll remember me. I’m Charles Moss, surveyor. Colonel Hanks stopped down the road and told me to come ahead and get set up. We’re surveying out here.”

“What for?”

He pushed up his hat and scrutinized her. A young man with clear blue eyes and a stubble of dark beard, his face bore a thick scar twisting from temple to jaw. She’d seen a wound like that before. Bayonet cut, most likely from the war.

“It’s my job,” he said.

“I know how Jimmie Hanks works. He rides all over the county picking out the best property and when he gets the chance, snatches it up at the courthouse door.”

Moss shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.”

The late August sun bore down on the farmyard, and the hot air magnified the scent of cut hay. Weariness swept over Jenny. She tried to remain calm, but the end of the shotgun shook.

Moss saw it, too. “Why don’t you put the gun down? Even your dog likes me. I’m not going to harm you.”

“I don’t trust dogs or soldiers,” she said.

He flinched. “I’m not a soldier.”

“Maybe not now, but you were.”

Moss scratched Sal’s belly harder. “The war’s over.”

“Which side were you on?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “There’s no good side in a war.”

Jenny agreed. The war had stripped the land of young men, sent them far away and returned them broken like Tom or scarred like this man before her. Life was still turned topsy-turvy with no end in sight to normal.

Moss stood up and squinted toward the road. “I don’t know where the colonel is. He said he needed to check on something.”

“Where?”

“Down the road near a stand of trees. He tied off his horse and hiked up. He didn’t say why.”

The graves. He’d seen them and stopped to count. Maybe she should tell Moss the truth and scare him away.

“Tom will vouch for me,” the ex-soldier said. “He’s the reason I’m here.”

Jenny nearly dropped the gun. “What do you mean?”

“I met him up North. He said I should come out to Anderson County and make a new life after the war was over. Beautiful country, all right, with these rolling hills and piney woods. Is your husband here?”

She slid the shotgun to her side. “Where did you meet Tom?”

Charles Moss took a step forward and met her eye. “Fort Delaware, ma’am. We were in the prison camp together.”

A wave of nausea hit, and she trembled. Jenny shut her eyes to fight it, to remain in control. She dropped the gun, plunged off the porch, and lost her breakfast corn-bread in the bushes. Her face flamed with heat, and her body ached from the cramping. She sputtered when cold water doused her head.

Moss had turned his canteen upside down over her. “It was a bad place, ma’am,” he said. “That’s how I usually feel about it myself.”

Jenny put out her hand to lean against the porch pole. Her mouth tasted foul, and her knees could scarcely keep her upright.

“Can I get you a chair, ma’am, or maybe more water?”

Jenny lowered herself to the porch. “There’s a tin cup at the well. Water, please.”

She rinsed and spit, not caring if it wasn’t ladylike. She finished the cup and handed it to Moss. “More, please.” Jenny leaned forward, shading her eyes from the noontime glare. Exhaustion poured over her; she’d been tired for weeks. If Moss had planned anything, she’d be too weak to fight.