To Dream Anew (23 page)

Angelina grew silent for several minutes, and Morgan worried he’d said too much. “If Trenton thought it important to trust Jesus, then I suppose I must learn more about Him myself. I’ve never had much interest in religion, but I could sure use some peace of mind.”

Morgan had to admit he could too. His stomach churned at the thought of Angelina pining after a man who was still alive—but who wanted her to believe him dead. It caused Morgan’s thoughts to be all twisted and tangled together. On one hand he wanted to give Angelina the truth—after all, she could hardly go running after Trenton. He was set on disappearing from the world. On the other hand, Morgan knew enough about Angelina Turnquist to know that something that simple would never keep her from going after the man she loved.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Morgan swallowed down the guilt and tried instead to think of how he could convince Angelina to love him. There had to be a way.

Portia paced the small space of the home she’d shared with her father. It was worrisome to know that Ned’s father knew where she was. It was even more troubling to know that he’d been suspicious all along of Ned’s death and that he’d gone to great lengths to try to prove her guilt.

Anger at her father and Trenton had caused her to act quickly to see them eliminated, but perhaps she had moved too quickly. There had been no satisfaction in their deaths. Relief, yes, but no real sense of accomplishment. There was still the matter of Langford and his hired investigator.

“I don’t know what the next step should be,” she muttered. “I can hardly stay here and risk Langford sending someone after me.”

Then a thought came to her. If Langford thought she was dead, he’d have no reason to pursue the matter any further. But how would she convince him of this?

Portia stopped in midstep. “I can write him a letter. Only I’ll write it as if I were Dianne Selby. I’ll tell him of my brother’s death—how he killed Sam Brady and … his daughter, Portia.”

She grinned. It was priceless, really. If Langford thought her dead he wouldn’t send anyone to accuse her or bring her back to Baltimore. He also would never suspect or be on the lookout for her coming back to settle the score.

“Stupid man. Thinks he can stop me—thinks he can blame me for the death of his equally stupid son. Well, he can just think again.”

CHAPTER
16

“B
UT
I
’M ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED THAT
P
ORTIA IS BEHIND
the shootings,” Dianne declared to Charity Hammond.

Charity poured tea for both herself and Dianne. “But you have no proof.”

“I have the concerns of Ned Langford’s father.” She pulled a letter from her pocket. “Mr. Langford had been corresponding with Trenton regarding the supposed suicide death of his son. He believed Portia to have caused Ned’s death and wanted Trenton’s help in proving she was guilty. After the death of Portia’s father and Trenton’s … departure,” she said, lowering her voice, “I wrote Mr. Langford to let him know what had happened. I didn’t tell him about Trenton. I figured there is always a risk of the letter being intercepted.”

“I wish there were something I could do to offer you comfort,” Charity said as she stirred cream into her tea.

Dianne was surprised by her friend’s words. “I don’t want comfort; I want to see that woman behind bars. If she’s committed the murders of several men, she deserves to hang.”

“Your anger is understandable, but you can hardly take up your brother’s cause by chasing after Portia Langford. You have three little boys who need you. You have a husband who needs you as well. Cole would never approve of your getting involved in something this dangerous.”

Dianne frowned. “Someone has to do something. Portia will get away with this otherwise. I know she’s the one who planned the deaths of Trenton and Sam, whether she actually pulled the trigger or not.” Dianne got to her feet, nearly knocking over the tea tray. “What if it were your brother? What would you do?”

Charity put her spoon down. “I suppose I would feel just as passionate about it as you do. However, I would hope to have a friend—a very good friend—who would work to talk me out of doing anything foolish.”

Dianne heard the concern in Charity’s words and sunk back into the chair. “I feel so hopeless. If I don’t do something, Sam will have died in vain.” She whispered the words on the chance they might be overheard. The small house was close to the main street of Madison, and there was no telling who might wander by. She had told the Hammonds the truth about Trenton. It had been necessary, since Ben was the one to perform the ceremony at the mock funeral. Charity could be trusted, Dianne knew, but she also knew that Charity would offer good counsel and wisdom. Which was why Dianne had come to her.

“What have you heard of Portia? I’ve not seen her since the funeral over a month ago.”

Charity shrugged. “She hardly seems to be in mourning, if that’s what you’re asking. She parades around this town like she owns it. She hasn’t been in church since her father’s passing, but of course you know that.”

Dianne nodded. She’d not missed a single service since Ben had declared the church open for public worship. Most of the community had joined the little log church—some out of true desire to fellowship with other Christians, some out of boredom. Then there were those whom Dianne believed only came in order to keep track of other folks. Like Portia and the Lawrences.

“Let’s not worry about Portia and what she’s doing. I’d rather not spend my time in gossip, and I know you feel the same.”

Picking up her tea, Dianne sighed. “I just don’t know what I should do.”

“Of course you do,” Charity said with a gentle smile. “You need to pray. God is the one who has the right to seek revenge. He will see things made right, even if you never figure a way to bring it about. Maybe even in spite of your trying to bring it about.”

“I feel helpless. I mean—” she looked to the window and then back again to Charity—“if you’d have seen him.”

“I’m sure it was absolutely horrible.”

“I thought he was … well … you know.”

“But he wasn’t. That’s what you have to remember. God was merciful to you and your family. Poor Sam was all alone in the world—perhaps the quickness of his death was mercy as well.”

“But murder isn’t a mercy,” Dianne protested.

“No, I’m not suggesting that it is,” Charity said before taking a long sip of her tea. She put down the cup and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I liked Sam Brady a great deal, but the man was lonely and longed for the day he would leave this world. He loved his wife very much, and losing her was hard on him. Then this trouble with Portia surely must have weighed on his mind.”

“I can’t imagine how I would feel if Luke or one of the others grew up to be a murderer,” Dianne said, shaking her head. “It would break my heart.”

“And no doubt it broke Sam’s heart as well. I wish I could say that everything will work out, but sometimes evil is allowed to flourish. I do know that eventually every evil deed will be answered for. God will not be mocked.”

“But sometimes that reckoning doesn’t come in our lifetime, is that it?”

“All in God’s time, child.”

Dianne drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I feel so angry inside. I don’t know how to let this rest in His timing.”

“You must pray and take every thought captive. It’s never easy to stand against a strong wind and not fall … or at least exhaust yourself in the battle. When those thoughts come to you—thoughts of revenge and anger—you must take them captive. Refuse to let them have power over you.”

“That won’t be easy.”

Charity lifted the pot to pour herself another cup of tea. “No, it’s never easy. But doing the right thing is often difficult.”

Dianne knew it to be true. She dropped her chin and stared at the letter she’d let fall to the table. R. E. Langford asked her to help pick up where Trenton had left off. Dianne had no idea how she could do that without arousing Portia’s suspicions. Worse yet, she had no idea how to do it without arousing Cole’s concerns or his disapproval.

Leaving Charity’s house nearly an hour later, Dianne was determined to get her shopping done and find Levi and Cole. They’d come to town to have some work completed by Malachi and would surely be done with it by now.

Dianne couldn’t help but ponder Charity’s words. They were nearly the same suggestions Faith had given her. She hadn’t planned on telling Faith the truth about Trenton, but it had just spilled out in their conversation. Faith was relieved to know that Dianne’s brother was safe and alive, but she chided Dianne to refrain from mounting a campaign to catch Portia Langford as the responsible party.

“No doubt she had to have help to manage something like That,” Faith had told her. “You’d better be careful about who you cross paths with. Those Lawrence boys are meaner than a hound with a sore tooth. Their papa is worse still, and he seems pretty cozy with Portia.”

Dianne had never met the Lawrence boys, nor did she have any desire to meet them. It was bad enough that Cole was confronted on nearly a weekly basis by Chester Lawrence. He always wanted to accuse the Diamond V of one offense or another. Lately it was some inordinate protest about the number of twin calves born to Diamond V cows.

“Mrs. Selby, I see you’re looking well,” Cynthia Lawrence remarked snidely.

Dianne looked up, amazed to find the woman standing directly in her way. How ironic that she had just been thinking about the Lawrences when she nearly ran into one.

“Hello, Mrs. Lawrence.” Dianne fought to keep her voice even.

“I saw your husband over at the smithy’s. No doubt he’s spending money earned off of Walking Horseshoe cattle.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Cynthia Lawrence sneered. “You’ll get no pardon from me. You’re robbing us blind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dianne said, trying hard not to lose her temper. From the rumors she’d heard, she had some thought as to what Mrs. Lawrence was getting at, but she wanted to hear the woman declare it for herself.

“Your ranch hands are stealing our calves after the mama cows are killed or run off. We were lucky to see a new calf in one out of five cows.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I hardly see how that condemns my men of stealing.”

“Your cows produced an unusually high number of twins this year—at least that’s what I’ve heard your husband say.”

Dianne could see where the conversation was headed. “Yes. We had a large number of twins, but in each case the calves and mama cows were clearly matched up. There were no strays out there.”

“I find that impossible to believe.”

Dianne shrugged. “I hardly find that to be my responsibility. I cannot force you to believe the truth.”

Just then two young women joined Cynthia. Dianne knew the girls only from afar. They were Mara and Elsa Lawrence, the only daughters of Cynthia and Chester. Elsa was the spitting image of her mother, temper and all, while Mara was much less objectionable.

“Why are you talking to her?” Elsa asked disapprovingly.

Cynthia waggled her finger. “Don’t take that tone with me, missy. I’ve enough to deal with right here. I do not need my own flesh and blood questioning me.”

Elsa put her hands on her hips. “You’re stealing our cattle,” she accused Dianne, “and we intend to get the law to do something about you.”

Dianne noted the fiery glint in the young girl’s eyes. She was no more than fourteen, but already she carried a chip on her shoulder. No doubt it had been placed there by her father and mother, who seemed determined to bad-mouth the Selbys at every point.

“As I told your mother, we are not stealing your cattle. We have no need to do so; we’re already very prosperous. Why would a few head of scrawny English beef interest us when we have hearty Texas and Scottish stock?”

“Our herd is just as strong and solid as yours!” Elsa protested.

“The girl is right,” Cynthia replied angrily. “There’s nothing but good reliable stock in our herd.”

“Which is why you have so many calves and mama cows dying in the winter,” Dianne said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Your cattle are apparently unable to adapt. Perhaps you should head south to a warmer climate.”