Part IV

© 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



In Cartersville, they were given a hotel room. With two local deputies, Rushing Waters and Thad went back up to Jeremiah's cabin. They spent the better part of the day examining the site, searching the forest for evidence.

They'd returned with nothing.

Alone in the hotel room, Thad stood over the water basin and stared wearily into the mirror. The room was dim, lit only by a single lantern. There was a bed, dressed in a cheap blanket, two chairs and a small table with wobbly wooden legs.

He ran a hair through his hair and studied the dark circles under his eyes. He had just over a week until his wedding. What more could he do? The time had passed. They were no closer today to finding Jeremiah's killer then they had been two days ago when they'd discovered the cabin.

He was exhausted; mentally, physically. What was it that Paul said in the Bible? Let us not become weary in well doing. His mother had quoted that verse to him so many times when he'd been a boy. Her voice had been soft and quiet, her hand gentle as it ran through his hair. Even when he became a man, she'd seemed to understand his need to seek justice.

Let us not become weary in well doing.

Maybe it was because he missed Ellie. Maybe it was because underneath the current investigation, he was still angry with Roberta. And maybe it was because he not only grieved for Jeremiah and his family, but Thad also grieved for James.

And because he grieved for James, he grieved for his own father.

Thad wanted both of their fathers there for himself and Ellie. When his own father died, James had picked up the challenge. Thad had depended on them both to know what to say, to understand. He'd needed their council.

How could he become the man, the father, the husband he needed to be without them?

Let us not become weary in well doing.

He pivoted away from the mirror, from the image within, and opened his bag. He pulled out the Bible and ran a ringer over the worn edge. It had belonged to James. It had originally been given to James by Ellie's mother. Ellie had given it to him when her father passed away.

It had been on the day that they had planned to be married. The first day they had picked that they had intended to share with her father. She'd given him the Bible, standing out in front of her home. She'd pulled her hair back in one of the ribbons he'd given her at some point along the way. She'd run from the house to meet him, with the Bible wrapped in her arms.

He hadn't thought so much about it before. But he did now.

They'd argued the night previous. Her eyes had held a little fear. He hadn't understood it then. He did now. It had been for Roberta that they'd moved the wedding date, he remembered. It had been for Roberta that he'd agreed.

He would be with Ellie now if he hadn't agreed, not away, and under all this grief.

Let us not become weary in well doing.

He settled on the bed, and using the dim light from the oil lamp, began a search for strength.

*

For the first two weeks after Thad's departure, neither Martha nor Roberta made an appearance at church. Roberta had the newborn baby, so their absence was somewhat excused. Ellie knew there was talk, there had to be, though no one approached her with it.

But at least people didn't sense, or seem to sense the tension in the family. People still came to Ellie, asked after Roberta and the children. They still innocently asked her to run errands.

For that, Ellie could only turn to Ruby.

"Ellie," Rachel Forester met her in the front of the church. She pressed into Ellie's hands the pattern she'd already asked to have delivered. "Thank you, so much, Ellie. I really thought she would be here this morning. I was by last week and she seemed ... well, she seemed to finally long for the companionship."

"She probably just ..." Ellie remembered a Sunday morning after her father's death that Roberta had left her behind, remembered the swift grief, the anger and the look of emptiness she'd seen in Roberta. "She just got caught up."

"I suppose so," Rachel smiled sweetly. "Children do that to us."

Ellie looked at the pattern. She had not seen her stepmother since that night where she'd listened to her wail and watched as she'd ripped her dress apart with her bare hands. The firelight had been behind her.

It seemed so long ago now, and somewhat petty. In not seeing Roberta, she had also not seen Mary and Lucas. She missed them so. Little Lucas, whom everyone said would have her father's eyes. She couldn't wait for him to grow up. And Mary … she'd turned into to such a quiet little girl, but there was a bright and interesting mind within her.

When Roberta was better, her sister would blossom. When Roberta was better ...

At night Ellie would stare west, toward Roberta and the children, toward her future home, and toward the mountains where Thad wandered. Her heart would long for them—for all of them. For her family.

"Ellie?" Blinking, Ellie looked up and realized that Rachel was still speaking to her. The other woman laughed. "I was going to accuse you of having your head in the clouds, but you should, shouldn't you? You're getting married next Sunday—I'd nearly forgotten. No wonder you're mind's wondering. I know this week will be dreadfully busy for you."

Busy... Ellie thought. She supposed it should. But most of the plans had been taken care of months ago, before her father died, and even then, it had been finishing the harvest, preparing the land, not the normal duties of a lady waiting to be a bride. Now, only Josie had her job to do, putting the final details on her new dress. It was simple and pretty, a soft bluish grey with long sleeves that would serve her well in the fall months.

"If you can't make it..."

Not knowing for sure if she would see Roberta or not, Ellie agreed to deliver the pattern.

Rachel grasped her hand in thanks. "When you see her ... tell her we miss her."

So do I, Ellie thought as Rachel walked away. A memory flashed so bright—of her father, his eyes alight with life, swinging her down from the wagon seat into the churchyard. His emotions had always been in his eyes.

If she could just see his eyes one more time.

She'd been giggling—even nearly grown—because Thad was home, and her father was helping her down as Thad walked over to meet them. She'd looked up as he reached a hand for Mary, Lucas, then Roberta. Roberta, who had smiled. Roberta, whom he had loved.

Her family. Roberta had loved the children, Ellie had loved them all. She missed the way they were together, the bright life they created together, as a unit. It hadn't been there until her father married Roberta.

And it was gone. Now, it was gone.

Her father wouldn't have wanted her to feel afraid. He wouldn't have wanted his family split apart.

Neither of them would have thought it was possible—even when Ellie had felt Roberta drifting from her, she hadn't thought she would lose it.

Lose everything.

She wanted the Roberta back that she'd fallen in love with as a girl; Roberta, with the pretty eyes and the vibrant smile—whom the children would run to, whom the children adored. Roberta had always had time for them, and she'd always made them feel special.

Even Ellie, especially Ellie, even after Roberta married Ellie's father. Roberta had been a natural mother, a loving mother, with all of that early and easy love she'd had for the other children directed first on Mary, then on Lucas.

But now she was gone.

Ellie wanted her father back. He would know what to do. He would be able to fix it. He had helped Thad … Ellie reached up and fingered the cameo.

What if Thad wouldn't come back because her father wasn't here to come back to? Thad loved her, she knew he loved her, but if her father had steadied him … if her father had steadied his family…

Her hand closed over the cameo.

We're only a prayer away from each other, Ellie. Remember that.

Thad would be back. Unlike the boy he'd been a few years ago, he wasn't leaning on his father, or her father any longer. He wasn't on his own anymore.

And he believed in the God who traveled with him.

*

"Ellie!"

She stopped, stared down at the pattern she had crumpled in her hands, and turned just as Ruby reached her side.

"Ellie—honey, what was wrong?"

Ellie looked around, seeming surprised that she'd wondered so far off from the churchyard. They stood now, almost in town. She slowly released the hand that was gripping her cameo.

Not seeing the desolation she had feared she would see, Ruby put a hand to Ellie's back and smiled. "Come on, I told Josie you would have lunch with me. We'll walk this way—make everyone think we meant it all along."

"Why is life so suddenly complicated?"

Not having an answer, or an answer she thought Ellie would like, Ruby slid her arm around her and drew her close as they walked down the street.

"This time last year … everything seemed so right. Thad was home. Roberta was expecting Lucas. My father … he was—"

Alive.

Yes, this time last year, James had been alive. Young love had been blooming between Ellie and Thad. And nothing was so hopeful, so beautiful, Ruby remembered, as those first few steps of falling in love.

"Life is full of complicated times," Ruby murmured as Ellie leaned her head on her shoulder. You were so young when your mamma died, but for your father, every day was just a little more complicated then the last. And Thad, loosing his father ... it undid him as a boy."

Ellie sighed as they stepped up on the wooden planked sidewalk. "I miss my family, Ruby."

"I know."

"Not just my father and Thad … but Lucas and Mary. And Roberta. They are my family."

Ruby remembered the blond little girl that had held Roberta's hand as she'd skipped into the boarding house. Her eyes had radiated pleasure as Roberta had given her permission to announce that her father and Roberta were getting married.

I'm getting my family, Ruby, she'd whispered then.

"Roberta will remember it, Ellie. Her mamma wasn't a good mamma, so she's feeling a little confused, I think. Grief takes some people by the throat and nearly chokes them with it. And women, when they've just had a baby, well, the doc seems to think it makes them a little more ... unhappy at times. I suppose they're scared a bit, with bringing a new baby into the world. But it will be better."

"I'd forgotten—you didn't have children."

"Not have children?" Ruby laughed, dismissing the thought. Years ago she'd wept and mourned. Today, she'd learned to be grateful. "I have Roberta and I have you, Lucas and Mary ... and all the other young in's in town. My husband's seen most of them into this world. And so have I. I have this boarding house, and a very large family inside. I have nothing to be sad about."

She led Ellie up to the front porch of the boarding house and sat with Ellie a bench that James had crafted. "Now," she said, Ellie's hand as she held it with her own, "if I hadn't seen you and the rest of the children ... then, I would be sad. Very sad."

"I haven't seen them in nearly three weeks," Ellie said as she stared across the street. "Josie hasn't thought that it would be a good idea for me to go see them, but Thad will be back before Sunday and then … who knows how long it will be until I'm home. We'll be off, seeing Thad's mountains. It may be until after Christmas until we get back."

"I know it's selfish, but ..." she stopped, shrugged, "I don't know that I can wait that long."

"I think we can arrange a trip. We could drop by on the way out there this afternoon."

"Do you think Roberta will be okay?"

"I think, Ellie, you need to see her as much as you need to see Mary and Lucas. She hasn't stopped loving you," Ruby said, then, remembering the wedding dress, took Ellie's hand and gave it a hard squeeze. "We'll pray."

*

Roberta walked back around the house, trying to concentrate on the feel of the fall sunshine on her face. She'd escaped for a moment, leaving the children with Martha.

And she felt guilty, for wanting to leave them.

It was quiet. At least for today she didn't turn and expect James to come walking out of the barn, his old denim coat tossed over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips. She hadn't sat waiting to eat breakfast with him until he came in from doing his chores.

Not today.

He was dead, and though there was nothing she could do to bring him back, she did have a family—his family—to see to, to raise.

What she was doing was remembering. Remembering seeing James the way she had first seen him. He'd been part of the town, of course, since long before she had moved in with her aunt and uncle. He'd been married then, but she'd been a little girl.

Ellie had been born not long after, and his wife had died.

It had been years later, and through Ellie that Roberta had first noticed James, not the other way around. Ellie was such a bright, interesting little girl. She'd picked up her father's traits—the way he stood, listened, carried himself. She'd never been a fighter, always a charmer. And a hard worker.

Like her father.

She would come to church with her braid crooked and a little dirt on her cheek. And she would run, as so many did, to Roberta.

Ellie had needed a mother. That, Roberta had been sure. And she'd wanted to be that mother, for the little girl, with the beautiful eyes and the dimples that appeared so easy when she smiled. Roberta thought she could make dresses for her, and Ellie—even at a young age an adept cook—could teach Roberta a few of the things she'd learned from Martha and Josie.

So, after a few years, she'd looked toward James and found him wanting. Soon, she'd wanted him back. He made her smile, through his quiet way. He'd made her fill special, like she could be and would be part of something with him.

They'd had so many dreams together; not just with James, but with his daughter. Ellie, already on the edge of adulthood, had wanted brothers and sisters to fill her house. She'd never asked, but there had been an odd, sad light in her eyes that Roberta had noticed from the years of loving her. As it turned out, that hadn't been an easy request to fill.

And somewhere in that time, Roberta had forgotten the little girl with the crooked braid.

What had she done?

Roberta dropped down on the porch steps and buried her face in her hands. She'd tried to turn Thad against Ellie. She'd entertained fantasies of continuing her family with him.

With Thad. Ellie's Thad.

And for a moment, for a chilling moment, she'd nearly believed that she'd succeeded. She'd cheered the dimming light in Ellie's eyes. She'd cheered their confrontations and the tears.

But Thad had never looked toward her. Thank Goodness—was all Roberta could think now. There was not another couple made so completely for each other. Their love was so ... filling. It saturated a room through their laughter and ease.

What had she done?

Ellie might never forgive her. That dress had been so important to her.

She'd never asked for much. Having Mary and Lucas so close together, Roberta had turned her attention on her growing family. Ellie worked with James. They were a pair. A team.

And still today, it was hard for Roberta to look at Ellie without expecting to see James laughing in delight at her side. She couldn't look at Ellie without seeing James.

"Nice place you have here, Robbie."

Roberta jumped and watched as -- came around the side of the house, leading his horse. He'd been riding hard, she thought, studying the dirt that covered his frame.

She felt none of the excitement she'd felt a week ago, seeing him in town. Her hands turned cold.

"What are you doing here, Reirdon?"

Suddenly, talking to him that day seemed foolish. He'd never given her his complete name. He'd never given her many details, at all. She'd just wanted someone to listen, to approve of her grief.

"Got a little worried about you. Not being a man around, we'd thought we would come check out your place."

"We'd?" Roberta repeated, and watched as another man, drawing another horse, came around the side of her house. Followed by another, and still another.

There were lines of hardship around their eyes. Their clothes belied a life lived on the trail ... or on the run.

She reached a trembling hand behind her and sought out the railing. Slowly she stepped up one step.

"We're doing fine."

"But haven't you heard? There's a gang of outlaws out wondering the mountains, isn't there boys?" The men behind him laughed, the sound deep and eerie. "A woman like you isn't safe out here, alone."

"Plenty of people come by, check on us."

"I don't think so. A woman like you wants her privacy," he stepped onto the first step, his eyes now level with her own. "No one's come to see you save a lone blond woman last Wednesday."

Rachel.

"How do you know that?" Keeping her eyes on his, Roberta stepped up on the next step, backing away from him.

"I make it my business to know things," he said, a took a step up as well. "And you weren't to happy about having visitors. Makes me think it will be awhile before someone else comes to see you."

"Get away from here."

Brock reached around her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around and pinning her arm to her back. Roberta cried out and then clamped down on the panic. Her children were inside. She had to find away to keep him, these men, from her—from them.

"There's plenty of room in the barn."

It wasn't an invitation, but it was all she had.

"There sure is. And there's plenty of room at your kitchen table." Drawing his arm around her, he turned so that she faced the gang of men again. To her dismay another had shown up. Six men.

"I think we've just gotten ourselves an invitation, boys."


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