Worthy of Riches (13 page)

His eyes settled on Robert Lundeen and his mother. “I hired those men who beat you up. Celeste was fond of you, and I didn't like that.” He glanced at his daughter who wore a horrified expression. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I knew how you felt about him, and I wanted him gone.” He turned back to Robert. “And… I hired the man who started the fire at your house.” A crooked smile touched his lips. “You had more resolve than I figured. You stayed and rebuilt. Somehow I'll pay off the debt you owe to the government. I'm real sorry.”

“Daddy, please don't say any more.”

“I love you, honey. I'm so sorry.” Ray awkwardly pulled Celeste into his arms and held her tight. Then smoothing her hair, he stepped back and continued, “I was the one who made sure no homesteaders bought your produce. And I stirred up trouble wherever I could and spread tales that weren't true. I'm ashamed. And I'm sorry, really sorry. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't.”

He scuffed the ground with the heel of his boot, then looked at the crowd. “I don't expect forgiveness. I know that's asking too much. But I am asking you to forgive each other—stop hating. Will Hasper wanted this valley to be united, and now that I'm seeing with new eyes, I believe it's a better place because of the colonists. They aren't outsiders. We're all just folks trying to make our way here. Please don't do what I did and keep on hating. It'll only bring sorrow.”

Ray's gaze settled on the sheriff. “I suppose I'll be going with you.”

The sheriff looked at the crowd. “Anyone pressing charges?” No one responded. He looked at Ray. “Well, I guess that settles it.”

“I wish they'd lock him up and throw away the key,” Luke said with venom in his voice.

Jean felt a pang of fear go through her. Would the cycle of bitterness begin again? And could she forgive?

WHILE HER FAMILY ATE BREAKFAST, JEAN MADE PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES and set them in a clean lard bucket used as a lunch pail, then added apples and cookies. Handing it to Brian, she said, “This is for you and Susie.”

Brian took the pail without interest. He wasn't interested in anything since his father's death. Brian's sorrow stabbed at Jean. He was such a sad little boy. Kneeling in front of him, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Things will get better soon. Then you won't miss your daddy so much.”

Brian's eyes filled with tears, and his chin quivered. “I don't think that's true. I want him to come back.”

Fighting her own tears, Jean pulled him into her arms. “I'm so sorry. I miss him too.”

“Why did God take him to heaven? He already had Justin.”

How did she answer a question she'd asked herself? Death was unfair and unkind. She held Brian away from her and looked squarely into his eyes. “I think that maybe God loved them so much he wanted them to be with him. Heaven is a beautiful place. I'm sure Justin and Daddy are very happy. And they're together.”

“Will he come for me too?”

“No. He knows how much I need you.”

Brian thought a moment. “Do you think Justin was lonely and needed Daddy?”

“No. I don't think Justin was lonely. In heaven no one is sad. But I do know Daddy missed Justin.”

“I want to be with them.”

“Me too,” Susie said, climbing down from her chair.

Luke kept eating and didn't say anything.

“Can I go to heaven?” Brian asked.

“One day, but for now I need you to stay with me and your brother and sister.”

“What if we all went?” Brian looked at Susie and Luke.

“Yeah,” Susie said.

Jean smiled. “That would be nice. But we'd all have to die. And I don't think God wants that. He has plans for us here.”

“What kind of plans?” Susie asked.

“I don't know for sure, but he'll show us if we keep loving him and talk to him.”

“The preacher said we're supposed to love each other,” Brian said.

“That's true. We are.”

Brian managed a small smile. “I love you and Susie and Luke and Laurel and Adam and …”

“You're full of love.” Jean hugged him. “And I love you. And you,” she told Susie, touching the tip of her nose. Jean straightened. “Well now, we need to get moving. We have work to do.” She hefted Susie into her arms. “Oh, you're getting heavy.”

His face a scowl, Luke pushed away from the table and set his empty coffee cup in the sink. “I better get to the cabbages. They need weeding.” He headed for the door.

“I'll take these two over to the Jenkins's and then I'll be back.”

Luke nodded and stepped outside.

“You ready, Brian?” Jean asked.

“No. I want to help. Why can't I stay?”

“I need to know you're safe and out of trouble, and I can't do that when I'm working.”

“Daddy used to let me help.”

“I know, but today I need you to stay with Mrs. Jenkins and help her watch Susie.” She steered Brian out the door.

“I can help. I'm big. I won't get into any trouble.” He folded his arms over his chest and stuck out his lower lip. “Daddy would have let me help.”

Jean sighed. “He probably would have, but he's not here. And just for today I need you to be a good boy and stay with the Jenkinses.” Jean
didn't feel up to battling. Will had been buried only five days earlier, and she was too weary and depressed to argue. “Please, Brian, just do as I say.”

Staring at his feet, hands shoved in his pockets, Brian walked down the steps and ahead of his mother and Susie as they headed toward the Jenkins's place. Jean wished there were some way to lift his pain, but there wasn't. Only time would bring healing.

The months and years stretched ahead, empty and frightening. There was so much work to be done and no one to share the burden with. Jean still needed to be a parent, but she also had the responsibility of the farm. Alone it was more than she could handle. No matter how much she worked to construct a plan, she'd found no way to hang on to their home. There was just too much work.
Lord, if we have to move, where will we go?

Brian kicked a stone, sending it off the road and into the weeds.

Jean searched her mind for something to cheer him. “Did you know the Jenkinses have new puppies?”

Brian stopped. “They do? What kind? When were they born?”

“I don't know what kind. A mix, I guess. They were born a few weeks ago. I'm sure John and Michael will show them to you.”

Brian hurried his steps.

Adele Jenkins and her two boys met Jean and the children on the front porch. Eyes full of compassion, Adele smiled, brushing wispy blonde hair off her face. “Hello there. How are you?”

Before Jean could respond, Brian asked, “Can I see the puppies?”

Seven-year-old John asked, “Would it be all right, Ma?”

“Yeah. Can we?” five-year-old Michael asked, swinging from the porch railing.

“Certainly. You know where they are.”

“Come on,” John said, jumping off the porch. “They're in the barn.” Brian and Michael raced after John with Susie lagging behind.

“Those four are really something,” Adele said, watching them until they disappeared inside the barn. She turned soft green eyes on Jean. “So, how are you, really?”

“How do you think?” Jean could feel raw emotions rising. “I'm managing.”

“We're here if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I sure appreciate your watching Brian and Susie for me.”

“I'm happy to do it. They're a real joy to have around.”

“If they get to be a bother, you let me know.”

“I'm sure they'll be fine. Tom and I are hoping for more children, so we figure this will be good practice for us.”

A pang of sorrow went through Jean. There would be no more children for her and Will. “Well, I better get back.” She stepped off the porch. “I'll come by to get them this afternoon.”

“Tom said he'd be stopping over at your place later. He'll bring the kids with him, and if there's anything you need done, he'll do it.”

“All right.” Jean turned and headed for home. She could hear the sounds of laughter coming from the barn, and another twinge of regret hit her. She hated leaving her children. Glancing back, she spotted Susie walking toward Adele with one puppy in her arms and another galloping around her feet. Jean hurried on, choking back tears.

When she approached the house, Jean stopped to watch Luke. He didn't notice her, his full attention on his work. He'd made it clear that he was determined to do as good a job as his father, and that meant vegetables free of pests and weeds.

Jean leaned on the fence, her eyes wandering to the tractor parked in the field. Will had been so proud and excited when he'd brought it home. Anxious to try it out, he'd started working immediately. Fresh tears seeped into her eyes. “You can't cry your life away,” she told herself in frustration, wiping the tears away and heading for the barn.

Inside it was dark and cool. Jean was hit by the memory of the grizzly prowling around outside while she and the children hid. Fear and revulsion washed over her Jean. “If only I'd had a rifle. I would have killed him then, and Will would still be alive.”

Fluttering noises came from above, and Jean gazed into the rafters. Daylight flickered through, and birds flitted in and out to care for their babies in hidden nests. Instead of enjoying the sight, all Jean could think of was that the roof needed repair. Her eyes roamed to the stack of hay. It was low. They'd have to replenish it soon. Would they have enough grain this year?

Snuffling came from outside the barn wall. Adrenaline shot through Jean, and she pressed her hand to her chest.
He's back! No. He's dead.
She moved toward the barn door and peeked out. Nothing. Fearfully, she edged her way around the barn.

Jean heard stomping and crackling. Something was there! Pressing close to the wall, she crept to the corner of the building, then took a quick look around the edge. A moose stood alongside the barn munching grass. Letting out her breath, she nearly laughed, then almost cried. Would she ever feel safe again?

She returned to the barn, picked up a seeder, and filled its canvas bag with oats. Slipping the halter over her head, she slung the broadcaster across her chest and headed for the field, careful to give the moose ample space. It was time to go to work. She needed to do anything but think.

Walking up and down the field, Jean turned the crank and watched seed shoot out and away from her. At first the job was easy, but after a while the sun grew hot and her legs and feet ached. She headed back to refill the broadcaster for the third time and wondered about the honesty of the company that had advertised it. They'd said it could seed six acres in one hour. She couldn't imagine how that could be true.
I suppose a man can carry more seed and make fewer trips to refill,
she thought, stopping at a cistern just outside the barn door. Taking a ladle from a hook on the wall, she dipped it into cool water and drank.

When Jean returned to the field, she watched Luke. He was still working steadily.
Maybe it will help use up some of his anger. Lord, give him peace. He could probably use a drink,
she decided and returned to the house.

She filled a quart jar with water from the faucet and headed to the front plot. “You thirsty?” Jean called when she was a few rows away.

Luke straightened, and using the edge of his shirt, wiped sweat from his face. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Figured you could use a drink,” she said, handing him the jar.

“I could.” He chugged down the cool liquid. “I should have brought some with me.” He took another drink.

“You look like you've had too much sun. Maybe you should rest.”

“Nah. I'm fine.” He looked down the row. “It's looking pretty good, huh?”

Jean looked out over the field. “As good as your father would have done.”

Luke's expression turned dark, and he drained the last of the water, then handed the jar to his mother. “I better get back to work.”

Feeling miserable, Jean trudged back to the field she'd been seeding. Exhausted, she thought about all the chores she still had to do. She had supper to make, clothes to launder, and mending to do. Turning the crank on the broadcaster, she watched seed scatter and wondered how she would do it all.

With the oats and barley seeded, Jean headed for the house. Overheated and worn out, she imagined sitting on the porch and drinking cool lemonade. She had no lemons. Water would have to do. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Jean studied Luke. He'd been at it all day. It was time for him to quit.

“How about taking a break?” she called. “I think you've done enough for the day. I'll get us something to drink, then make supper.”

“All right. I'll just finish the row, then I'll be up.”

Half an hour later, looking tired and hot, his clothes caked in dirt, Luke walked toward the house. He sat on the front step and wiped sweat from his face. For a few minutes he said nothing, then looked at his mother. “I'm starved.”

“I should have made us some lunch,” Jean said. “I just didn't think about it.”

“Figure I can make up for lunch at supper.” He grinned.

Jean was happy to see him smile. “I'll get you some water.”

“I'll get it.” Luke headed into the house, returning a minute later with a quart jar of water. He sat and took a long drink. “Whew,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I was thirsty.”

Jean looked out at the fields and rocked in the chair. Fatigue seeped into her, and she rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes. Memories of afternoons spent in this very rocker back in Wisconsin before the draught sifted through her mind. They had been good days.

“I figure after supper I'll work a few more hours,” Luke said. “That's a good thing about this time of year—lots of daylight.”

Jean looked at the young man. He was carrying a heavy load for a seventeen-year-old. “Maybe you ought to go fishing with Alex.”

Luke gazed at the path leading to the creek. “Wouldn't be a bad idea. We could use the fish.”

Tom's, Brian's, and Susie's voices carried from the road. They were singing, “She'll Be Comin' 'Round the Mountain.” Jean rocked forward and pushed out of the chair, then stood at the top of the steps. A shorthaired, black puppy danced around their feet.