Heart of Stone (27 page)

Jesse pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He rapped his knuckles on the wood surface a couple of times.

“I rode into this town full of hate. I was just as likely to kill Brand McCormick as not—”

“You don’t have it in you,” she said.

“Maybe not, but I
thought
I did. I came looking for revenge.” He spread his arms wide. “Look at me now. I’m still here. I’m getting to know my pa, and I’ve got a couple young’uns who hang on my every word and believe I can do just about anything.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with my situation.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that life is kinda like riding a buckin’ horse. You just have to relax and hang on.” He smiled one of his rare smiles. “I do know one thing: Brand is still dead set on marrying you. If you were to call it off, you’d break his heart.”

T
he deep cold had abated but the night was still brisk as Brand rode through town headed for Laura’s. The boardinghouse, always cheerfully alive with light when it was open, was shrouded in darkness except for a single lamp burning in the corner window on the second floor.

He dismounted and walked his horse up the drive and around to the back door. There was no lamp burning in the kitchen. A light in the carriage house indicated Jesse was home.

After knotting the reins over the hitching post near the back door, Brand crossed the veranda and pulled the bell, hoping Laura could hear it. He knocked again and was about to walk around to the front door when he saw candlelight moving down the hallway toward the kitchen. He watched through the window as Laura set the candle down on the dry sink beside her.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s me. Brand.”

She opened the door. Her hand clutched the lapels of her robe together, just below a band of lace that teased her chin. Her hair was down, flowing around her shoulders.

She smiled up at him, warming him from head to toe.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I had to see you.” He shuffled from foot to foot and blew on his gloved hands in an attempt to keep warm. She glanced behind him, surveyed the darkness beyond. Her reputation couldn’t get any worse, but there was his to consider.

She hesitated a moment longer before she said, “Come in before we both freeze to death.”

He stepped through the door. “I was called out to a ranch twenty miles outside of town. One of the hands fell off his horse and was trampled. I went to console the family and when I returned, I heard you’d arrived this afternoon.”

“I’m sure that’s all over town by now. It appears I’m quite the topic of conversation these days.”

“Are you all right?”

She nodded. “The thing I feared for so long has finally come to pass and aside from worrying about you, I find there are far worse things that could happen to a person than being the object of gossip.” She took his hand. “Losing you would be one of them.”

“I didn’t want you to hear like this. I went to the mercantile every day, waiting for word, hoping to be there when your stage arrived. I’m so sorry I missed meeting you. The one day I wasn’t there—”

“Please, I’m fine.” She stepped farther back into the room and picked up the candle. “Let’s go into the drawing room. There’s no fire, but there is wood in the grate.”

He followed her down the hall, drawn to her the way a moth was drawn to a flame as she led the way through the darkness. He opened the sliding double doors into the drawing room. Kindling
was stacked beneath the logs on the grate. Brand knelt down and had a low fire burning in no time. When he got to his feet, he looked around the room.

Reflected firelight shimmered off of the gilt frames bordering her paintings and the silver candelabra on a library table near the window. Laura touched the flame of her taper to its brace of candles and stepped back.

“It seems there is something missing.” He looked around. The room seemed bigger somehow.

“Guests,” she said, “for one thing.”

“Your photographs are gone.” Those images of unknown faces from other times and places she’d collected.

She nodded. “Other peoples’ people. I put them away this evening.”

She moved to join him in front of the mantel. He took both her hands in his.

“You will have family again, Laura, as soon as we marry. More than you ever dreamed of.”

“If so, I’ll be the happiest woman alive.”

“No ifs,” he said. “It’s a certainty. Sam, Janie, Charity. And we’ll find your sisters one day too.”

“And Jesse,” she reminded him. She prayed it wasn’t all just a lovely fantasy.

He nodded. “And Jesse.” He looked around the room. “Are you still sure, Laura?”

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. Are you?”

“Yes, but if I were to lose my position—”

“If the boardinghouse fails, we’ll all move on and start over.”

“You would do that? Leave this house behind?”

“When I walked in today, I realized that’s all it is. It’s just a house. The joy and hope that I felt while I planned and built this place aren’t the same as the love and peace in my heart now. I know
now that I can live anywhere, Brand, and be happy. I can still look for my sisters. They’ll be welcome wherever I am.”

“Wherever
we
are,” he amended.

She indicated the room with a wave of her hand. “
Things
don’t bring us happiness. Happiness is something we carry in our hearts. Like love.”

They stood in front of the mantle hand in hand, facing one another as firelight gilded them with its golden glow. Having her back, seeing her here where she belonged, solidified his resolve. She was kind and loving, passionate in her selflessness. She would be a perfect wife and companion.

“Sunday will be my first time preaching since I returned,” he told her. “I plan to announce our engagement.”

“We don’t know what God wants for certain, Brand.”

“We’ll know soon enough. Either the congregation will accept you or they won’t. If they don’t, then they lose me.”

“Maybe you should wait a while. Let the talk die down a bit. I can certainly weather the storm.”

“I want you to be my wife, Laura. The sooner everyone knows I’m not going to change my mind about it, the better.”

“Jesse said Charity seemed upset.”

“She’s worried about the children.”

“As well she should be.” She shook her head.

“I can’t think of a better mother for them than you. People can talk all they want about having faith, but when they have to prove it, when they have to open their hearts and live the truths they claim to believe, that’s when they are truly tested. We’ll come through this and so will this town.”

“Sunday,” she whispered, “is the day after tomorrow.”

“Sunday it is.”

“Must I be there?”

He watched her courage waver and understood. It was one thing to pray for forgiveness alone in her room; it was another to seek it from a church full of people.

“No. Not at all.”

She clung to his hands.

“I should go,” he said.

But instead of moving toward the door, he ran his hand up her sleeve, threaded his fingers through her curls. Before he knew what he was doing, she was in his embrace. He kissed her long and thoroughly, kissed her with the passion of a man long starved for what he most desired.

He felt her hands on his shoulders, her fingers curled around the fabric of his coat. She kissed him back until a soft cry of protest escaped her. Her fingers uncurled. She let go and stepped back.

“This is insane,” she said softly. “You have to go. If anyone sees you—”

“I know. Forgive me, Laura.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.”

He placed the screen before the glowing embers of the fire. She snuffed out the candelabra and carried the lone taper again as they moved back down the hall toward the kitchen.

When he opened the back door, cold air whirled in and extinguished the flame, casting them in darkness. He wrapped his arm about her shoulder, drew her against his warmth. Still, she shivered against the cold.

“Our love belongs out in the open,” he told her. “In the light of day.”

She reached up and slipped her hand around his neck. He lowered his head and kissed her again.

“Go, Brand,” she whispered as she pulled back. “Be safe.”

“I’ll be back on Sunday, right after the service.”

“Until Sunday,” she said.

“I love you, Laura. Never doubt it.”

“I…I love you too.”

O
n Sunday morning, Brand watched the sun come up on what promised to be a warm, beautiful day. He relished the time alone while the house was still quiet, before Charity was up preparing breakfast and getting the children spit shined and dressed in their Sunday best. He walked into his office, carefully avoiding the squeaky board in the hallway, and sat at his desk, where he prayed and gathered his thoughts for his sermon.

He thought he would be nervous this morning, given the gravity of the situation, but he was filled with a contentment and peace the likes of which he’d never known.

When it was time, he escorted Charity and the children to the church. After they went inside to put on their choir robes, he waited on the steps to greet the congregation just as he’d always done. The change in the weather brought more folks out than he’d expected. As far as he could tell, most everyone was happy to see him back. Whether or not they assumed he had ended his courtship of Laura remained to be seen. Everyone was too polite to mention her or his month-long absence.

Since she had returned a good week after he did, most likely they assumed he was no longer interested in her.

Bud Townsend and his family climbed the steps. Mrs. Townsend nodded in greeting but didn’t smile as she trailed her sizeable brood inside.

Bud paused long enough to lean close to Brand and mumble, “Close call, eh, Reverend? Good thing word got out about your fancy lady friend before you tied the knot. You dodged one bullet over that half breed. The second scandal would have brought you down.”

Though he couldn’t go so far as to tell Townsend it was good to see him, Brand was able to say, “I hope you enjoy the sermon, Bud.”

He took a deep breath and turned to the family behind Townsend, relieved to see the Ellenbergs. Knowing Joe, Rebekah, and Hattie Ellenberg were there lightened his mood instantly.

A dramatic hat with a spray of long pheasant feathers adorned Hattie’s head. It was like nothing she’d ever worn before.

“That’s some hat,” he told her. “I like it.”

Hattie nodded and the feathers bobbed. “Ain’t it though? It was a gift.” She walked inside with a smile wide as the Brazos on her face.

When the last of the worshippers had entered, Brand followed them in and found there was standing room only inside. The service opened with the adult and children’s choirs. The addition of the new organ made both choirs sound better than ever. Charity beamed with pride as the children filed off the altar.

Brand had noticed John Lockwood standing in the back of the church. The minister was smiling to beat the band as Charity took her seat in the front pew.

Brand walked to the lectern, took a deep breath, and scanned the crowd. An expectant hush fell over the gathering. The adults were intent, waiting for him to start his sermon. Even his children were not squirming as usual. In that moment he knew he had made the right decision. It was best he cleared the air.

He looked down at the open Bible on the lectern and took his
strength from the words on the page. He didn’t have a single note to refer to. He hadn’t written a sermon for this most important day.

He began with a quote from the gospel of John. “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”

Folks shifted nervously, looking around, making not so subtle eye contact with each other before they focused on him again.

Later, whenever anyone asked Brand what he said that day, he wasn’t able to tell them word for word. He only knew he was inspired as he spoke of forgiveness and new beginnings, of how they were called to leave their lives of sin and begin anew. He spoke of the story outlined in the Bible, told the tale of the woman who had been an adulterer and how, after Christ asked those of her accusers without sin to stone her, those accusers walked away.

When he finished speaking, he looked at his congregation. He saw Hattie beaming up at him from where she was seated beside her son. Amelia was wiping tears from her cheeks. Beside her Hank Larson nodded as if to say, “Well done.”

Others he didn’t know as well sat expectantly when, after a pause, he instructed Charity and some of the older girls and boys present to help her escort the younger children to the hall.

“I have an announcement to make to those adults who are willing to stay a bit longer.”

No one else chose to leave.

Brand slowly looked around the crowded church again before he began.

“You may have heard that before Laura Foster recently left town I was courting her. When she suddenly disappeared, I went searching for her.”

He couldn’t help but notice the exchange of glances around the room, the whispers, the awkward shifting around in the pews. Undeterred, he went on.

“After hearing things that have come to light about her past, you may be of the opinion that I am no longer interested in pursuing
our relationship. I have asked you all to stay so that I could tell you myself that neither my intent nor my feelings have changed.”

A swell of conversation filled the church as a shock waved rippled through the crowd. Brand raised his voice and everyone fell silent again, hanging on every word.

“Laura Foster is the woman I intend to marry. She has accepted my proposal and—”

Bud Townsend was on his feet, effectively cutting Brand off.

He indicated the crowd with a wave of his hand.

“Just how far are you willing to push these fine folks, Reverend? You may have convinced the board to pass a vote of confidence after your son called you out, but this is going too far. It shows you’re not worthy to stand up there and preach God’s holy word.”

“What difference is there in asking you all to forgive the sins of
my
past and asking you to forgive those of Laura Foster?” Brand looked around, “Or of anyone else here?”

“Something you did twenty years ago isn’t the same thing. No telling what she’s been doing in that ‘boardinghouse’ of hers. Even if she has repented, what kind of preacher’s wife is she gonna make?”

Hank Larson shot to his feet. “Before things get out of hand, I’d like to say what she
does
in her home is rent rooms to ‘women and families,’ just like the sign on her front porch says.”

Bud Townsend wouldn’t be silenced. “You’re trying to railroad everybody again, McCormick,” he said. “Your friends on the board might have saved you once when that son of yours showed up, but they’re not gonna abide by this. I can guarantee it.”

“I’m not relying on just the board, Bud. I’m here to ask the entire congregation—the good people of Glory and those from ranches around the area, the hardworking, honest folk who are the backbone of this community—to hear the truth about Laura’s past. Then they can tell me whether or not they will accept her as my wife. If not, then I’ll step down.”

L
aura pulled dress after dress out of her closet and tossed them on the bed until she settled on one of her best. No matter what happened today, she was determined to make Brand proud. She walked over to her dressing table and chose a strand of pearls, put them on, studied herself, and pinned up a few stray locks of hair.

She was who she was—all the struggles, the misery, the determination, the joy.

She donned a coat, picked up her reticule, made certain her derringer was inside. She might be headed to church, but there were just some things a woman shouldn’t have to do without. Protection was one of them.

Judging herself ready, she went downstairs, outside, and crossed the drive to the carriage house.

Jesse answered her knock immediately. The bruise around his eye had faded some.

“You look mighty fine. Where are you headed?”

“Will you drive me to the church?”

He hesitated. “You sure?”

“The least I can do is meet Brand after the service.” She wondered if Jesse could hear her knees knocking. She was afraid, certainly, but she wasn’t ashamed. Not anymore.

“Let me hitch up the buggy,” he said. “With any luck, you’ll get there by the time it’s all over.”

They pulled up in front of the church. Jesse set the break on the buggy. There wasn’t a soul in sight. The church doors were closed.

“They must still be inside,” she said.

“I’m not going in.” He stared over at the church from beneath the brim of his black hat.

“That’s up to you.”

He turned his gaze her way. “Someday. Maybe.”

“Someday. When you’re ready.” She was the last person to try to persuade him to change his mind.

He climbed down, walked around to her side of the buggy, and
held out his hand like a gentleman. Stepping down, she thanked him and started up the walk alone.

When she reached the church doors she tried the handle but it didn’t turn. She was staring at the wooden doors, wondering whether to go around to the side, when the door opened a crack. A man she didn’t recognize stood on the other side. He was dressed in black with a white clerical collar banding his shirt.

“Come in,” he whispered.

She nodded her thanks and slipped in. The entire church was full. There wasn’t a seat left. People were standing along the wall in back. She ended up with her back pressed against the door, standing slightly behind and between the tall, salt-and-pepper-haired minister and a gangly cowboy with his hair neatly parted and slicked down.

A heated discussion was going on. When Laura realized it centered on her, she reached for the door handle again. Then she glanced up at the visiting preacher beside her. His smile steadied her.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Mrs. Foster, I presume?

She nodded yes.

“Reverend John Lockwood.” He introduced himself in a hushed whisper. “I stood in for Brand while he was away. If you would like to leave, I’ll escort you out, but I believe you owe it to Brand to stay.”

She tightened her hands on the folds of her skirt and held her head high. “I’ll stay.”

As Laura watched, an angry, barrel-chested man in a gray suit sat down. A second later, Amelia rose. All eyes were on her friend when she started speaking.

“If it hadn’t been for Laura’s help, I wouldn’t have been able to pull Hank through when he was severely wounded. She showed up unasked and stood beside me while I operated. She never batted an eye. She was right there for us. She’s been there for us ever since.”

On the other side of the church Mary Margaret Cutter got to
her feet as soon as Amelia sat down. Laura closed her eyes against a rush of tears. When she opened them, she found it better to focus only on Brand as he stood tall and confident behind the lectern. If he was nervous or worried in the least, it didn’t show.

He is doing this for me. For us.

She could be just as strong. She would do him proud.

Mary Margaret gazed slowly around the church. “I know most all of you. You’ve given your trust over to Timothy and me for years. We’ve trusted you in return whenever you come in to the First Bank of Glory asking for loans, or for help with paying your taxes. We’ve loaned you money to see you through until the next roundup and the next harvest, so I hope you’ll believe me when I say that there is nothing Laura Foster has done to be ashamed of since she moved to Glory four years ago.

“You want to know where the money came from for those fancy new choir robes some of you and your children are wearing? Well, half of it came from the pie auction and the masquerade ball. The balance was donated anonymously. Laura Foster was the one who made up the difference—but I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

As she took her seat, Timothy shouted, “Did you just say you were having a spell?”

Richard Hernandez was seated alone, close to the back door. When he stood up, hat in hand, folks swiveled around in their seats to have a look at him. Laura was thankful she stood in John Lockwood’s shadow.

In a clear, strong voice Richard said, “If not for Señora Foster, my family would have nothing. She took us in. She gave us a home and work. And that organ there—” He pointed to the altar. “She had my father deliver it to the church after she left town. It came out of her drawing room.”

He had no sooner taken his seat than Mick Robinson, the smithy, stood up.

“Old Rob’s been wearing a new winter coat and boots. He told
me Mrs. Foster gave them to him ‘fore she left town.” Mick sat down.

When Barbara Barker suddenly stood up, Laura held her breath. Surely Harrison’s mother had nothing good to say.

“A couple of years ago when the school was built, that woman put in an order at the mercantile for enough McGuffy readers for all the students,” Barbara announced. She looked over at Mary Margaret. “Anonymously.”

Blinded by tears, Laura covered her lips with her gloved hand.

Hattie Ellenberg stood up the minute Mrs. Barker sat down. Her face was hidden behind the brim of her bonnet. She waited for the buzz of conversation to die down and then her voice rang out loud and clear. “About three weeks ago, Rodrigo Hernandez showed up at my place with a pile of hat boxes. Mrs. Foster sent out five fancy hats with a note saying they were for me to wear when I came into town. I’d told her how I liked to cover the scalpin’ scar on my forehead so as not to alarm other folks, and she remembered.”

Hattie reached up to touch the brim of her bonnet and the pheasant feathers danced. “You all just heard the reverend tell you exactly how she wound up living in such a sinful state. She had no choice in the matter. She was robbed of her innocence and her childhood. She had no family to stand by her.

“You’ve all heard stories of captives, like my son’s wife, Rebekah. She survived. But there are many who take their own lives rather than live in degradation. Or women like me who have suffered physical indignities. But I believe only God has the right to claim our lives in His own time. It isn’t up to us to decide. Because of those beliefs I survived what the Comanche did to me. Every day since is a day I’ve devoted my life to the Lord.

“Laura Foster lived through unspeakable trials and now she’s trying to live a good life and make amends. What right have any of us to judge her, or anyone else for that matter?”