A Moment in Time (11 page)

“You can’t go,” Wyatt said, reaching out to take hold of her hand. “We need you to cook for us.”

The other children nodded and Benjamin looked at Marty with tear-filled eyes. “I wanna go with you. Can I come, too?”

Sam nodded. “Me too. Please let us go with you.”

“Me too,” Wyatt pleaded. Some of the other children joined in.

Marty felt her heart nearly break at their sweet voices. She held up her hands to still them. “I’m afraid I can’t take anyone with me. I haven’t the money. I wouldn’t be able to go myself if not for others sending the tickets. Alice and I will write to you, however. We won’t go away without sending back word. We want to know how you’re doing in school and what you’re learning. We want to know who Mr. Brentwood gets to cook for you.” She smiled, hoping to dispel their fears. “I told him he needed to get someone who makes really good cookies.”

Some of the children clapped their hands at this idea, but Wyatt buried his face against Marty’s skirt and began to cry in earnest. This caused Sam and Benjamin to do likewise. How could she leave them? Yet there was no choice.

Marty hated the pain she was causing. A part of her wished she’d never agreed to stay on at the orphanage. She had known the day would come when she’d have to go. She had only pretended to believe Jake would give up Texas and return to Denver. Now she had to deal with the devastation their
choices had caused to these little ones. Taking her seat in utter defeat, Marty prayed God might ease the children’s misery.

“Let us pray and ask a blessing on our meal,” Mr. Brentwood said. He began to pray, but Marty didn’t hear his words. She had her own prayer to offer.

It’s not their fault, Lord. The children
have done nothing wrong. They’ve needed love, and I’
ve given what I had to share. Now I’m
taking it away, and they will bear the pain. Oh,
Father, it seems so unfair, so wrong. Please help us.

The meal passed in questions about Texas from some of the children who seemed more intrigued by the place than troubled by Marty and Alice’s departure. Marty answered the questions and explained to the children about life on a ranch. The girls all envied her ability to have a horse of her own and go riding.

“I’d never want to stop riding,” Willeen declared. “I love horses.”

“I love them, too,” ten-year-old Edith joined in. “When I was little, I used to ride my brother’s pony.”

There was a great deal of discussion about horses and ponies, riding and being a real cowboy, before the meal ended. The children all helped to clear the table. They each took their own dishes to the kitchen and deposited them in a tub of soapy water before heading off to wash up before their nap.

Wyatt, Sam, and Benjamin lingered in the kitchen for as long as Mr. Brentwood would allow and then tearfully let the man lead them out.

“You’ll still be here when we wake up, won’t you?” Wyatt asked, pausing at the door. Tears streamed down his face.

Marty nodded. “I’ll be here, Wyatt. In fact, I’m gonna spend the day making ya’ll a whole bunch of cookies.” Her Texas drawl thickened with her emotions. “That way you can
eat them and think of Alice and me.” Usually the mention of cookies would instantly bring a smile to the boy’s face, but not this time.

“I want you to be my mama,” he said sadly.

Marty crossed the room and knelt beside him. “I would have loved to be your mama.” Wyatt wrapped his arms around her neck and hugged her tight.

“Come on, Wyatt,” Mr. Brentwood ordered, pulling the boy away. His expression looked nearly as sad as the boy’s.

Marty felt as if a part of her heart went with Wyatt. She got to her feet and wiped her eyes. Just then, Alice put her arm around Marty’s shoulders. “I didn’t think this would be so hard,” she said at Alice’s gentle touch. “I love them so much.”

“You could adopt them,” Alice told her. “You’ve always talked about doing such a thing.”

“I know, but there’s no money for it. We wouldn’t even be heading to Texas yet except that Will and Hannah insisted on paying for the tickets. And then there’s the matter of the baby. I don’t know if Jake would consider adopting others now that we’re expecting our own. I mean, he was always very positive about adoption before, but he might feel different now.”

“You have no way of knowing unless you ask him. Maybe Mr. Brentwood could take Wyatt, Sam, and Benjamin off the list of those children available to adopt. You know, just in case someone comes and wants to take them on.”

“I suppose I could speak to him about it. I can’t promise anything, but maybe since I’m giving in to what Jake wants, he’ll give me what I want in return.” But even as she said it, Marty knew that was no way to handle the matter. Marriage was, of course, full of give and take, but it wasn’t right to put
expectations—demands really—on each other for something that involved the life and happiness of so many.

Turning, Marty broke into sobs and cried against Alice’s shoulder. There was no possible way to make this parting easy. Her heart was being torn in two. Without a doubt she would leave a part of herself behind at this orphanage.

February 1894

Alice dozed to the rhythmic sway of the train car. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as the train put first one mile and then several hundred between her and Mr. Smith in Denver. She looked at this as her own independence day. Despite it being a cold February morning and the poor heating in the train, Alice was happier than she’d been in years.

Of course, with one issue behind her, there were others Alice knew she’d have to face. Her mother was alive. That alone caused disturbance to her peace of mind. Not that a part of her wasn’t excited to find out if her mother still lived in Chicago and if her brother Simon was alive. Ever since learning about the letter her mother had sent, Alice had looked at the orphanage children with new eyes. Her own brother would be the same age as several of the children.

Does he resemble me? Is he blond and blue
eyed? Does he remember me?

She opened her eyes and stared out the sooty window. The
vast open lands stretched for as far as the eye could see. Gone were the snow-covered Rockies. Now scrub and twisted mesquite dotted the sandy landscape. Western Texas looked much as Marty had said it would. Desolate. Dry. Deserted. Marty had also told her that the scenery would change drastically. Texas, Alice had been informed, was such a huge state that it was very much like several smaller states rolled into one. In the east there was an abundance of forest and water. To the south the Mexican and seaside influences were evident. Central Texas held vast farmlands and cattle ranches, as did the north. Western Texas had its share of ranches, as well, with a bit of desert flare in some areas. Alice found it all truly amazing. Marty had been all over the state, traveling with her sister and brother-in-law to purchase cattle or other supplies, while Alice had never been anywhere outside of Colorado.

Glancing at the woman across from her, Alice wondered if Marty had finally found relief in sleep. Marty was so afraid of what Texas would bring
.

Please give her peace, Lord. Help her
to carry this baby in health and to deliver it
in the same. Oh, Father, she needs your comfort.
Alice bit her lip and looked back out the window
. And
so do I.

Alice watched the miles race by and thought again of her mother and brother. Marty had wanted her to write immediately to her mother, but Alice hadn’t been able to bring herself to the task. Whenever she gave it serious consideration, doubts crept in. Her mother had deserted her. Her mother had taken Simon and left Alice behind. How much could her mother possibly care about her? And if she didn’t care, why had she asked after her in the letter to Mrs. Ingram? Why had she written those haunting words?

She is very
dear to me, and I hope to be reunited with
her.

Could Alice trust that her mother was being honest? Had she only written that in order to sound the part of the caring mother? But what purpose would that serve? These questions and a hundred just like them raced through Alice’s mind.

Marty thought she was being immature in her delay to write. She had chided Alice and even threatened to write to Mrs. Chesterfield herself, but Alice had made her promise she’d not interfere.

“This has to be my decision,” she had told Marty. “She’s my mother—not yours.”

Alice looked again at Marty. She felt a sense of security with the older woman. She was like the big sister Alice had never had. Marty had cared for her from the time of their first meeting. She hadn’t been concerned with the scar on Alice’s face or her lack of references when she’d showed up begging for the job of personal maid to Marty. Instead, Martha Wythe had offered Alice a home and employment.

More than that. She gave me an advocate
—a protector—a friend.

Alice knew that no matter what, she would always have the deepest love and respect for Marty because of her willingness to extend grace and kindness to a scarred young woman with no other future.

And now here she was—in Texas. Alice couldn’t help but wonder what would happen once they reached Marty’s family. She didn’t know if she’d return to being Marty’s personal maid or if she’d be needed to work elsewhere, but either was acceptable. She felt blessed that the Wythes hadn’t just abandoned her in Denver.

“Did you get any sleep?” Marty asked.

Alice was surprised to find Marty watching her. “I slept
off and on throughout the night. I can’t say that I’m truly rested, but I know it’s been much worse for you.”

Marty sighed and straightened in the hard leather-wrapped seat. “I’ll be glad to put this trip behind us and sleep in a real bed again.”

“Happy, too, to see your family and Jake?” Alice asked with a smile.

Marty nodded. “It’s been over a year since I saw my sister. Feels just as long since I saw Jake. I suppose because we parted on such poor terms, the time seems longer than it has been.”

“I know he’ll be happy to see you again. I’ve always envied the love he holds for you.”

Marty raised a brow. “We fight like cats and dogs despite that love. I wouldn’t be envying it if I were you.”

Alice glanced around the train car. There weren’t too many people sharing the space, but she lowered her voice just the same. “If I could know a love like yours, I would be the happiest woman in the world.”

Marty sighed. “I hope I still have Jake’s love.”

“You know you do. He wouldn’t have sent for you otherwise.”

“He sent for me because my sister probably made him do so.” Marty didn’t try to hide her smile. “My sister Hannah is . . . well . . . quite determined when it comes to having things her way.”

Alice giggled. “And you aren’t?”

A slight chuckle escaped Marty. “I suppose I might as well tell you—she and I, well we don’t always see eye to eye. In fact, most of the time we tend to be at odds. It’s all in good sport, though. We love each other dearly. Hannah has always been one of the most important people in my life. I suppose I’ve always wanted her approval, and so I challenge her.”

“How is challenging her going to get you her approval?” Alice asked, rather confused by this comment.

Marty shrugged and reached up to straighten her hat. “I suppose it’s a sort of game we play. I want Hannah to realize that I’m smart and self-sufficient. Hannah has always held the highest regard for strength and capability. She has no use for women who consider themselves to be too good to work—too refined to lend a hand. She calls them ‘fancy window dressings.’ Pretty enough to look at but without any other purpose.

“Maybe it’s because Hannah had to grow up so quickly. She was supposed to marry when I was born. But her fiancé died in the war, and our father demanded she care for me after our mother died giving birth to me. Our brother, Andy, was just a few years older, so Hannah became mother to us both. She needed strength for that, and she needed us to be strong, as well.”

“And was your father also demanding of you?” Alice asked, thinking back on her own father. George Chesterfield had always been a man of purpose, driven to accomplish, less than forgiving of error. She hadn’t really thought about the latter until now, but there were many examples that came to mind to prove such ideals.

“My father lost his will to live after losing Mama. Hannah said it started even before that. He was devastated when Hannah’s mama died. I think of Hannah as my sister, but she’s really my stepsister.” Marty paused and watched the dry landscape. “Papa also lost my older brother to the war. Hannah said the war took what little life was left in Papa, and after that he was more reserved. I remember only little bits of him,” Marty recalled. “I was sad when I learned he was dead, but I knew it would have been far worse if it had been Hannah who had died.”

Alice nodded. “Sometimes I wonder about my father. I know he was deeply injured when my mother left. I remember times when they would argue and he would call her names and make her cry. Usually I went to my room or outdoors and avoided the conflict. I knew no other way, of course. We didn’t have relatives or close friends to give me other examples of married life.”

She looked out the window. The sun was now bearing down in a crispness that only came with winter days. “Living with my friends after the attack showed me how different life could be. I never heard a mean-spirited word given or names called. Even so, I found it in my heart to make my father’s behavior acceptable. I suppose no one ever wants to think badly of their parent—especially when that parent was the only one remaining in their life. Now, knowing that my mother is alive, I have to confess I would like to hear her side of the story.”

“I think it would do you good to hear it,” Marty said. “At least then you can judge the matter for yourself.”

“I think it’s possible I’ve been a fool, Marty.” She frowned and twisted her gloved hands. “My father lied to me. He knew my mother was alive. He had her letters. Mrs. Ingram told me there had been a dozen or more that had been kept in his things. How could he lie to me like that?”

“Men do what they think they have to in order to get by. Your father obviously felt it was best to keep your mother from you. Whether that decision was made because he was selfish or trying to punish her, or even if it was because he knew your mother could cause you real harm, I’m sure he acted on the belief that he was doing good for you.”

“Good? How could he think it was good to lie?”

Marty shrugged. “Folks lie for a lot of reasons—I ought to
know. But even when I’ve lied in the past, even when I knew what I was doing would end up causing me trouble in the long run, I always had the best of intentions.” She shook her head. “I could always rationalize my decisions.”

“I’m so afraid.” She sighed and met Marty’s gaze. “I’m afraid of what the truth will reveal.”

Marty gave her a knowing nod. The expression on her face was almost pained. “I know just how you feel.”

“So this was Marty’s place,” Jake stated more than questioned. He and Will had ridden over to the ranch after breakfast, and Jake couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Will said, “it still is Marty’s place. Oh, I told her I’d buy it back, but I didn’t actually do the paper work on it. I sent her some money to help out with her needs, but I figured she’d come back one day.” He eased back in the saddle a bit and rested his hands on the horn. “Texas is in Marty’s blood. She might as well have been born here. I can’t imagine she’ll truly be happy anyplace else.”

“She holds Texas a grudge. And it runs pretty deep.” Jake looked at the small ranch house. “She and her man build this?”

Will nodded. “We all did. It was a community effort—a wedding gift. Thomas added to the place a few years after they wed. He built the barn and pens, the outbuildings and such. He was a hardworkin’ man—like yourself.”

Jake could see the place was sadly neglected. The house needed a coat of paint, as did the barn. Some of the fencing sections had been allowed to give way, and weeds rose up in place of well-groomed flower beds and vegetable gardens.

“I figure you’ll want to take it back over. Marty may hold
Texas a grudge, but she’s never been one to stay mad for long.” He grinned. “As I’m sure you know.”

“She endured a powerful hurt here,” Jake said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want her to think she had to live here. Not if it makes her uncomfortable.”

“Why don’t you just plan to stay on with us for a time,” Will suggested. “At least until we’re able to mother-up the calves and get ’em branded. Once we have the cows paired with their babies, we can see exactly which belong where. Marty’s herd did well last year, and I expect this year will be the same. Last time I checked, most of the cows had delivered and the calves all seemed healthy.

“Anyway, you and Marty can live at our place for the time bein’. Miss Chesterfield, too. The house is more than big enough for all of us. That’ll give Marty a chance to ease back in, and I’ll have you to help me with roundup.”

Jake met the older man’s intense gaze. “Thank you, Will. I appreciate what you’re doing for me, for us. I don’t take any of this lightly. I want to do a good job—to be a good husband to Marty. I know she’s worried I’ll get myself killed like her other husband, but I don’t intend that to happen.”

Will chuckled. “Can’t say anyone ever intends it to happen, son. However, troubles will come. We’ve seen it over the years, as I’m sure your family did. Death is a part of life that we have to accept. No sense in frettin’ and fearin’ it if a fellow knows what lies beyond this world.”

“I agree,” Jake replied. “I have to say I haven’t always lived a life that I’m proud of, but God did get a hold of me and put me back in line.”

“You wear His brand,” Will said, nodding in approval. “That’s clear enough to see. I watched you studying the Bible the other morning, and I’ve seen you at prayer. We all made
mistakes in the past—me included. Or maybe I should say, me especially. God had His hands full with my sorry spirit. But thankfully, He didn’t let me go.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way. Don’t know where I’d be if He had.” Jake looked back at the ranch one more time and then turned his horse toward the road they’d come up earlier. “But I know I wouldn’t have Marty, and if that were the case, my life wouldn’t be worth livin’ anyway.”