A Gathering of Memories (22 page)

“It’s probably the same way Carrie looks at me when she thinks I don’t notice.”

“Carrie? She’s 15!”

“Tell me about it.”

They were both silent then; there didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Both young men sought their rest with hearts full of questions about the future.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you for days.”

“That’s why I came in a little early from the barn. We have two more buyers coming in this afternoon, so I’ll be tied up again.”

“I hate to ask you this, Si,” Amy said with her arms around her husband, “but the boys want to be with you so badly, and I can’t get them to stand still and try on some pants. School starts in two weeks.”

“We’ll take care of it right after lunch.”

They were just finishing with their food when Silas announced that the boys would try on some clothes immediately following the meal.

“But we want to go with you to the barn,” Clovis’ eyes pleaded with Silas to say yes.

“You can go to the barn with me, just as soon as you stand still for Amy
and
with a good attitude.”

The boys were careful not to reveal their boredom and were in new pants in the living room when Mandy answered a knock on the front door.

“Pa!”

Amy’s eyes met those of Silas’ where he sat in a chair with Becca. A look of resignation passed between them.

“I found your note, Mandy. Where’s your ma?”

“Please, Mr. Jackson, come in.” Silas arrived at the door on those words and Mandy was spared, for a few moments, the agony of telling her father that her mother was dead.

“I’m Silas Cameron and this is my wife, Amy. Would you like to sit down?”

The hard-looking man glanced down at his dusty clothing and declined. “I’ll stand.”

It was a pitiful scene. The children standing silent and unsure of themselves, and Silas and Amy desperately wanting to convey friendship to this man without forcing him to conclude that they were stealing his children. Mr. Jackson was clearly uncomfortable in this house and room. His eyes darted warily between Silas and his oldest daughter.

“Where’s your ma, Mandy? Why’re you here?”

“She’s dead, Pa.” The words were whispered. “Silas and Amy were worried about us staying alone and asked us if we wanted to stay here. I didn’t know what else to do, so I said yes.”

When Ward Jackson did nothing more than stare at Mandy, as if her words were incomprehensible, Mandy went to him and placed her hand on his coat sleeve.

“Pa?”

“When—how did she die?” Her touch seemed to jolt him.

“It was in June. She just got real sick and couldn’t get out of bed. It was over fast. The sheriff couldn’t find you.”

“I’ve been out West.”

“We’ll get our things, Pa, and come home with you. Just give us a few minutes.”

But the hard-bitten man did not acknowledge her statement. He moved and sat down in the nearest chair. “It was all going to be so different this time. I had plans, and things were going to be different for your ma and me.”

The words were spoken to no one in particular, and Silas stepped forward and put his hand on Ward’s shoulder.

“We’re very sorry about your wife, and we wanted to do what we could. But your family can have their things gathered very quickly and go with you.”

The words removed some of the cloud that seemed to have settled over the grieving man, and he looked to each of his
children. Rebecca stood uncertain by the chair she’d shared with Silas and gave her pa a small smile when his eyes met hers.

“Hi, Pa.” Clovis spoke the words softly when his father looked to him, but Levi, his hands at his sides, did nothing more than return his pa’s stare. Carrie moved her hands selfconsciously when her father’s eyes swung to her and said hello in a voice that sounded strained, especially to her own ears.

Mandy was the last to come under his scrutiny. She saw how tired and how much older he appeared. She also understood for the first time how little they knew this man; it was like meeting a stranger.

“You look like your ma when she was young. The way she looked when I first met her.” His head moved to take them all in once again and then rested briefly on Amy.

“They all look good, real good. I thank you for seeing after my younguns.”

“It was our pleasure.”

“Well, the truth is I hadn’t planned to be in town very long.” It was obvious to everyone this was a spur-of-the-moment decision.

“They’re welcome to stay with us for as long as they need,” Silas broke in quickly, wanting this man to know exactly where they stood.

“It might be for the best if they stayed then, I mean with me moving on and all. There’s no problem with that is there?”

“No, Pa,” Mandy answered when he addressed the question to her. “Only—if you want us to come, we will.” Her eyes swept over her siblings and they all nodded. This had been discussed before and each child knew their place was with their pa.

“No, this is best. You look good. I’ll probably stop and see you before I go. Was she buried proper?”

“Yes, Pa. At the cemetery. Pastor Nolan said the words. Lots of people came, and it was real nice.” Mandy couldn’t go on. Her heart ached for this man, and she knew if she had to stand there much longer and watch his broad shoulders droop much lower she was going to start to cry.

Two months ago she’d have screamed at him for not being there when they needed him. Her heart was changed now, and all she felt was deep compassion for this man who seemed not to have the slightest idea how to be a husband and father.

“I’ll go now. You all behave.”

Mandy and Carrie walked him to the door and the look of surprise on his face when they both went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek was enough to start their tears. Tears he misinterpreted.

“Don’t cry now. It’s better this way. Your ma would be glad to know you’re doing fine. I’ll be in touch.”

They stood and watched as he mounted an ill-used nag and rode away without a backward glance.

The sun was sinking low in the sky by the time Ward Jackson finished the letter to his daughter. He banged on the doorjamb of the general store for a few minutes before a woman let him in.

“Can’t you see the sign? We’re closed!” The words, said in exasperation, were ignored.

“I need to post a letter.”

“Come back tomorrow.”

“I’m leaving town tonight.”

“Oh, alright,” the woman said with ill-disguised irritation.

A few minutes later, Ward was back astride his nag and headed for home. He had a few things to do, and then he’d put Baxter behind him. Everywhere he looked he saw his wife’s face. He
had
to get out of town, fast.

The house had a cold feeling about it, and Ward felt no comfort in the familiar surroundings. He wasted no time in being about his business. Within seconds he had the tools he needed, and was headed off to a rocky place among the bluffs to the west of his few acres.

“When did he get into town?”

“Just this afternoon.”

“Where is he now?”

“He headed toward his house.”

Aaron Marks said nothing and gave no indication that he was even aware of the other man leaning against the bar.

“Are you going to follow him?”

“I don’t know if there’s any point in that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Mr. Marks. He just mailed a letter to someone and said he was headed out of town.”

Aaron Marks looked at his informant with new respect. He put his hand out then and shook the other man’s hand. No one saw the bills that passed during that casual shake. Just as casually, Aaron Marks made his way to the door and out onto the dark streets of town.

Ward Jackson walked back to his house. He was sweating and his hand was cut from the splintered handle of the shovel, but he was satisfied. His wife would have been proud. He felt a deep pang within him as he pictured his children in the fancy room of the Cameron home, but instantly told himself it was the best thing for them. His wife would have wanted the best for them. He was rounding the corner of the building with the pick and shovel still over his shoulder when a shadow moved in the yard.

“I’m disappointed, Ward. I somehow thought you’d come to see me the moment you were in town.”

“There wasn’t much point. Your claim was worthless. I didn’t find a thing.”

“Is that a fact? And I suppose you’ve been out working in your garden with that shovel.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” The voice was deadly. For a moment Marks knew real fear and questioned his own action of coming out here alone.

“The truth is, Marks, I did strike it rich,” Jackson went on casually. “But I meant it when I said it wasn’t on your claim. I won what was believed to be a worthless stake in a poker game, and it was on that stretch of creek that I struck it rich.”

“You’re lying.” The words were spat out through clenched teeth.

To Marks’ surprise, Ward laughed. “You don’t like to be wrong, do you Marks? Well, you are. Just think of all the people you must have cheated over the years and call yourself even.” As if he hadn’t a care in the world, Ward swung the tools down and leaned them against the house.

He heard Marks move, but never suspecting violence from this man, was unprepared for the blow of the shovel on the side of his head. The weight of his body pushed the partially opened door wide and Ward Jackson died on the threshold of his run-down shack.