My Heart Remembers (23 page)

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
HREE

Molly

Shay’s Ford, Missouri

April, 1903

I
sabelle closed the market door and turned the lock. Pressing her face to the glass, she squinted through the dim light, watching Mike—her sister, Maelle—climb into the wagon’s seat, lift the reins, and drive away through the gloaming. Only when she could no longer hear the click of the horse’s hooves against the cobblestone did she turn and lean against the door, closing her eyes and releasing a deep sigh of contentment.

Her long afternoon and evening with Maelle had revealed so much. She recognized anew the advantages she’d been given. Comparing her childhood to Maelle’s had brought a rush of guilt, but her sister hadn’t allowed it to take hold.

“Be grateful you were loved. It’s what I wanted for you,” Maelle had told her, holding tight to her hands. “It must be what God wanted for you, too.”

Isabelle had argued, “God wanted me separated from you and our brother?”

“God knew you would need the education and the financial means to provide help to children who need it,” Maelle had insisted. “He had a plan for you, Isabelle. Now see it through.”

Isabelle walked slowly through the dark market toward her little bedroom, reflecting on her sister’s strength and surety. When Isabelle had expressed dismay at the lost years, Maelle had proclaimed they mustn’t look back and think “what if.” Isabelle had set the questions aside while Maelle was present, but now she found it difficult not to let her mind ponder. What if the children had been allowed to stay together? What if she’d had Maelle and Matthew in her life instead of Randolph? What if—

A creak on the stairs stopped her thoughts. She spun, her gaze locating a shadowy figure moving toward her. “Who is it?”

“It’s me—Aaron.”

“Aaron.” She waited for him to approach. In the muted light, his blue-green eyes appeared almost black. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a soft whisper. He was so close his breath brushed her cheek. “Did Mike leave?”

“Yes.” Isabelle hugged herself. “I think we could have talked all night.” She laughed lightly. “It is the oddest thing, Aaron. When I first met Maelle, I didn’t like her. She was so . . . different. I suppose she made me uncomfortable, because she is such a free spirit and I was raised to follow convention. But the moment I realized she was my sister, something inside of me opened up to her. And now, after only one evening together, I feel as though I love her.”

Aaron’s gentle smile let her know he understood.

“She really is amazing.” Isabelle shook her head in wonder. “Do you know the only home she’s had since she was a little girl is that wagon? She’s not lived in a house or attended school . . .” She blew out a delicate breath. “The stories she can tell of her travels . . .”

“You have lots of lost years to catch up on.”

“Yes.” A lightness filled her breast. “But we’ll have time. She says she’ll be staying in Shay’s Ford and opening a photography studio here. She doesn’t want to be far from me again.”

“Good.”

“But that means she’ll no longer be searching for our brother, Matthew.”

A long pause followed, during which Isabelle sensed that Aaron shared her heartache. Finally she said, “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

“I was waitin’ for you to—” He stopped for a moment, pressing his lips together. His hand found her arm. “I wanted to talk to you. Can we go . . . sit?”

Isabelle nodded, and he guided her with a hand on her back through the dark store to the stairway. A lantern glowed somewhere above, casting enough light for her to make her way safely up the stairs. But her limbs still quivered as if she were uncertain of her footing. A keen awareness of Aaron’s presence made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The spot on her back where his hand had rested still tingled, as if he’d left an impression in her flesh. The feeling both puzzled and pleased her.

When they turned the corner at the top of the staircase to go into the sitting room, Isabelle crossed directly to the sofa and sat on its edge. Aaron hesitated, seeming to examine each piece of furniture before seating himself on the other half of the sofa. Except at the dinner table, they’d not sat in such close proximity. Isabelle was certain her face glowed more brightly than the lamp on the table beside her.

Aaron linked his fingers and placed them in his lap before shifting his body slightly to face her. “The groundbreaking ceremony for the school is next weekend.”

For some reason, the words caused disappointment to wash over her. But what had she expected him to discuss? Giving herself a mental shake, she said, “That’s right.” She frowned, worry striking. “You don’t think that man . . . Mr. Jenks . . . will convince the owners to sell to him instead of me?”

Aaron shook his head. “Jackson said you’ve shaken hands on the deal an’ made a partial payment. That’s bindin’. If he were to break the deal, people in town wouldn’t trust him anymore.”

She blew out a breath of relief, her fingers at her throat. “Thank goodness.”

“Don’t worry. Jackson’ll take care of Jenks.”

Isabelle smiled, lowering her hand to her lap. “No worries. But I’m hoping for a good turnout from town and the surrounding communities. I’ve already heard from several businessmen who have committed to assisting with funding. Surely the school will be a success.”

“I have no doubt.” Although the topic was impersonal, Aaron’s warm tone lent the essence of intimacy. “And I’m sure proud of how you’re reachin’ out to the orphans.”

Isabelle lowered her chin, pleasure at his simple compliment rendering her speechless.

He continued. “I’ve been talking to Pa and Reverend Shankle, but I wanted to ask you . . .”

When his voice trailed off, Isabelle lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “Yes?” The single word quavered.

“I wondered . . . if you might have need of . . . a man around the place.” Suddenly the hesitation disappeared. His words poured out as if dumped from a barrel. “It’s outside of the city limits, where any unscrupulous person could come by, but a man on the property would offer protection. The buildings’ll need maintenance and repairs, and a man should do those things. Plus the boys will need to be taught more than reading and writing. They need to learn to use tools an’ to plant crops an’ . . . man stuff. Things you can’t teach them. And—” he took a deep breath, as though running out of steam—“there may be need for a firm hand now and then. Kids’ll be kids, you know, and sometimes they need correction. I’m not so sure you’re up to that.”

Isabelle wanted to argue with him—to state quite adamantly that she was perfectly capable of handling the school on her own—yet she knew he was right. She had never learned to wield a hammer or plow a field. The boys would have need for such lessons. She had gotten so caught up in the planning of the school, she hadn’t considered its actual day-to-day running. Certainly she would need a staff. Not only a man to provide protection and maintenance, but someone to cook and clean, as well as teachers versed in subjects beyond the rudimentary. Her shoulders slumped as she realized how much more was needed than she could give.

She released a sigh of resignation. “Did Reverend Shankle or your father have a suggestion?”

“Actually . . .” The hesitation returned, causing Isabelle’s pulse to race. “I had a suggestion, which Pa and Reverend –Shankle approved. Now I just need to know what you think.” He swallowed, the gulp audible in the quiet room. “Remember the day in the hospital, when you got the letter from your foster father’s lawyer? When you found out he’d left you that sum of money?”

Isabelle nodded.

“You said . . . you said we would fight for the children together.” There was another pause, while she stared into his unblinking eyes. “Did you mean that?”

Isabelle’s tongue felt stuck to the roof of her mouth. She managed another nod. Of course she’d meant it. She knew their hearts were united in desire to help the orphans and street children. Now she realized her heart desired to be united with Aaron in other ways, as well.

“Then . . .” He swallowed again. “Then, what would you think of my living at the school, too . . . help you run it?”

A part of her wanted to cry out an exultant
yes
! She knew Aaron, trusted Aaron, believed wholeheartedly his presence would be of benefit to the children in many ways. Yet she held the reply inside, a niggle of apprehension silencing the response.

Living here at the market with Aaron’s family, spending time with him each day, she had come to admire him. How different he was from Glenn Heaton. Her money meant little to Aaron— he was concerned about Isabelle the person. She believed with her whole soul that Aaron was an honorable man. In fact, she loved him. But how difficult it would be to spend each day working side by side with him and keep those feelings hidden. In fact, it would be impossible. She couldn’t do it.

Aaron waited for an answer. She licked her lips and spoke evenly. “I’m quite sure you would be a tremendous benefit to the school, Aaron, and I’m honored you would consider giving up your duties at the church and the market to assist me. But . . . but I’m not sure it’s . . . wise.”

His sweet face drooped with disappointment, piercing Isabelle’s heart. He turned his head, staring across the dimly lit room toward the windows. “I understand.” A huge sigh lifted his shoulders, and he stood abruptly. Barely glancing at her, he said, “Would you like me to help you hire some workers?”

His defeated tone brought Isabelle to her feet. “Aaron, it isn’t that I don’t want your help, it’s just—”

He held up his hand. “Isabelle, I said I understand. I should have known someone like you would never be—”

Isabelle held her breath, anticipating the completion of his thought, but he clamped his jaw and held back whatever he’d planned to say. With her heart beating so hard she felt it in the top of her head, she ventured in a bold whisper, “Would never be . . . interested . . . in you?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched. His gaze straight ahead, he gave a brusque nod. “I know I’m just a shopkeeper’s son, nobody special. But I care about you. And the kids. I just thought . . . I hoped . . .” Once more, his thought went unfinished.

Isabelle’s fingers trembled as she placed them lightly on Aaron’s forearm. “You hoped . . . ?”
Tell me, Aaron. Tell me you love me, please.
. . .

As if in response to her silent plea, he turned and faced her. Lamplight flickered in his irises. He searched her face while her breath came in little spurts. He must have found what he sought, because he tipped his head toward her and admitted, “I hoped you cared enough about me to want to work together . . . as a team.”

“A . . . a team?”

His lips parted, and he took her hand. “As husband and wife, Isabelle.”

The softly uttered statement filled Isabelle with a rush of emotion—joy, gratitude, fulfillment. She closed her eyes, absorbing the wonder of the moment—
He loves me!
—and then opened them again to lift her smile to him. “You truly want that?”

His voice turned husky. “More than anything.”

“Then ask me.” She tugged his hand. “Please ask me.”

Aaron caught her shoulders and gently pressed her onto the sofa. Then, as she watched in wide-eyed awe, he knelt before her. Taking her hand, he carried it briefly to his lips to deliver a soft brush across her knuckles. She held her breath as he met her gaze, his expression tender.

“Isabelle Standler, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Although in her daydreams she had prolonged the moment, now that the scene played in reality, eagerness brought an immediate response. “I would like nothing better than to become Mrs. Aaron Rowley.”

He opened his arms, and she melted into his embrace. His large hand cupped the back of her head, holding her securely against his shoulder. Warm tears ran from her eyes to soak his shirt, and she felt his tears wetting the top of her head where his cheek rested. Her eyes closed, she memorized every detail—the feel of his calloused hand on her hair and his firm shoulder beneath her cheek; the lingering scent of supper’s lamb stew combined with Aaron’s own musky scent filling her nostrils—a homey, comforting aroma; the steady thrum of his heart matching the pounding she felt in her own chest.

Aaron’s hands slipped to her shoulders, and then his thumbs brushed her cheeks, wiping away her tears. He used his sleeve to clear the moisture from his own face before taking her hands and lifting her to her feet. Their hands still joined, he smiled and said, “I suppose you’ll want Mike to take our wedding picture.”

“Yes. The moment her studio is completed.”

Aaron’s forehead creased for a moment. “Shouldn’t we wait until your year of mourning is over?”

Isabelle found no reason to hesitate. “Perhaps it breaks with convention, but I believe my parents would approve. Mama and Papa always wanted my happiness. From what Maelle has told me, so did the Gallaghers.” Tears welled again as she said, “And you, Aaron, are my happiness.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
OUR

Mattie

Rocky Crest Ranch

April, 1903

M
att forced the bite of scrambled eggs down his gullet but felt as though it would come right back up. His stomach churned with the knowledge that this was his final day at Rocky Crest. His final day with Clancy and Mr. Harders. His final day of peace. Because today Jenks was coming.

He stabbed his fork into the mound of eggs and made himself swallow another bite. If he was going to travel today, he’d need food in his belly. He wouldn’t allow that man to send him away hungry, as he’d done the last time.

It galled him to think about sneaking away, as if he were in disgrace. He remembered slipping away from Jenks’s ranch, constantly looking over his shoulder, fearing pursuit. He’d be looking over his shoulder when he rode away today, too, but not out of fear. Out of longing. He’d sure miss Clancy and Mr. Harders. They’d become like family.

He glanced around the table, where everyone ate in silence. None of the cheerful babble to which he’d grown accustomed filled his ears this morning. A cloak of oppression seemed to hang over the room. All because of Jenks.

That man had far too much power. Matt snatched up a biscuit and shoved it into his mouth.
An’ you’re giving him power over you.
The derisive thought stilled his jaw mid-chew. Could it be true? Did Jenks
hold
power, or did Matt
give
it to him? He swallowed the dry biscuit and turned to stare at Clancy’s profile. Clancy had said Mr. Harders would understand if he left, but now Matt wondered if it was the best thing to do. Should he let Jenks run him off?

“Mr. Harders?”

The older man jumped at Matt’s voice. He set down his fork.

“Yes, son?”

His gentle tone brought a lump to Matt’s throat. How could he possibly leave and disappoint this man who’d placed so much confidence in him? “I wondered . . . when you’re expectin’ that visitor today.”

Mr. Harders’ lips formed a grim line. “Jackson planned to meet the stage this morning and drive Jenks to the ranch. They should arrive shortly after noon.”

Matt’s mouth went dry. Only a few hours from now . . . He yanked up his mug and gulped several swallows of coffee before speaking again. “I wondered if . . . maybe . . . I could stick around when you meet with him.”

Clancy gawked at him, slack-jawed.

Matt managed a lopsided grin. “Might be I have a reason or two to visit with that man, too.”

Mr. Harders stared hard at Matt, his brows low. “If you want to sit in on the meeting, you’re welcome.”

“Thanks.” Matt pushed back his chair. “But I reckon I better head to the pasture. Want to have my work done before Jenks gets here.” He gave Clancy’s shoulder a squeeze, slapped his hat on his head, and strode out the door.

Matt sat on a chair in the corner, elbow on the armrest, his fingers pinching his chin. So far Jenks had hardly glanced in his direction, which suited Matt just fine. It gave him an opportunity to observe the man who’d stolen his childhood. A chance to pray and gather strength to face this enemy.

Jenks had aged. His hair bore streaks of gray at the temple, the strands shiny from the oil that held it slicked back from his face. His middle was thicker, his jowls more pronounced. But the gold tooth still flashed. Jenks had always been proud of that gold tooth. Matt got a glimpse of it again as the man stretched his lips into a sneer he aimed across the small parlor table at Mr. Harders.

“Whether I win the court battle or not, the damage will be done. Your son’s name will be sullied. Consequently, your name will carry a mar that will follow you straight to the State House. You think you’ll still have support when word gets around that one of your hands and your son assaulted an innocent rancher?”

Jackson clenched his fists, pressing them to the wood trim of his chair’s armrest. “You’re hardly innocent, Jenks, and you know it. That lady photographer will testify to your intent.”

He snorted arrogantly. “I offered an invitation to dinner. An invitation many other women have gladly accepted. Any number of them will testify to my
intention
with them, which was merely to entertain. Your friend’s word will be meaningless.”

He pointed at Clancy, who stood silently beside Mr. Harders’ chair. “And that man will be ruined. No judge in his right mind will take the word of a beaten-down sheepherder over mine.” His smirk returned, his eyes narrowing. “He’s been with you a long time, Gerald—as many years as your son. He’s been with you through the hard times, like burying your wife and daughter back in ’84, and good times, like Jackson’s graduation from law school. Surely you want to repay him for his years of faithful service by getting these charges dropped before it goes any further.”

“What exactly do you want, Jenks?” Mr. Harders nearly snarled the words.

“You already know. I want you and Jackson to stop this nonsense about the child labor laws. You both know it won’t go anywhere. Factories will continue to hire the labor force they can afford to pay. Parents will still send their children out to work to add to the family’s income. You can’t change it, Gerald, so why fight it?”

“And why are you fightin’ it so hard?” Matt rose from his chair slowly, by inches, his heart pounding but his voice strong. He waited until Jenks shifted his gaze to face him. He read no recognition in the man’s scowl. Stepping around the end of the sofa, Matt said, “If Mr. Harders has no chance of makin’ a change in those laws, why do you even care if he keeps on fightin’?”

Jenks’s eyes narrowed until they were malevolent slits. “You’re insolent.” He glared at Mr. Harders. “Do you always let your hands speak to guests in such a disrespectful manner?”

Mr. Harders leaned back, his expression bland. “This is a free country, Lester. Every man is entitled to his opinion and his say.”

Jenks glowered, but he clamped his lips together.

Matt took a step closer. “So what’s your reason? Why’re you fightin’ against these laws?”

Another snort blasted from the man. “I’m just trying to save Harders here the humiliation of a defeat that’s sure to come. He’s wasting his time and money on something that will never happen!”

“It’s his time and money. Shouldn’t he be able to spend it like he wants to?”

“Bah!” Jenks waved a beefy hand, a ruby ring on his pinky finger catching the light. “It’s foolishness.” Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared into Mr. Harders’ face. “Drop it now, Gerald, and save yourself and those you hold dear a lot of heartache.”

Mr. Harders opened his mouth, but Matt interrupted. “Mr. Harders, I’m guessin’ Jenks here has a more selfish reason for wantin’ to keep those laws from bein’ passed. I’m guessin’ right now, on his ranch, he’s got a youngster or two he’s workin’. Workin’ harder than he works his other hands, an’ without a penny of pay. And he wants to keep working ’em. That’s all he cares about.”

Suddenly Jenks straightened, his mouth dropping. “You . . .” He jolted to his feet. “What’s your name, boy?”

Mr. Harders rose, too, angling his body slightly to shield Matt. “Lester, this young man is Matthew Tucker.”

“Matthew . . .” Jenks nodded slowly, realization dawning. “But not Tucker, is it, boy?”

Matt’s chest felt tight, but he answered in a calm tone. “It is now.”

“But it wasn’t always.”

“No, sir. It wasn’t always.”

Shoving his finger toward Matt, Jenks whirled on Mr. Harders. “This man stole a horse and a fistful of cash from me! I demand he be given to me to be taken in for prosecution!”

Mr. Harders stared at Matt in surprise. “Matthew?”

Clancy stepped forward. “You gotta hear it all, Gerald. Matt here didn’t steal nothin’ that wasn’t owed him.” His gnarled hand curled around Matt’s shoulder. “Tell him, Matthew. Tell him what Jenks done to you.”

Jenks blustered, “I did nothing but take him in, give him a home. I taught him a trade so—”

“So you could work me,” Matt inserted quietly. Every muscle in his body quivered, yet he felt strength fill his bones. Turning to Mr. Harders, he said, “Jenks took me in, all right. He took me from an orphanage in Springfield. He kept me for close to four years, but he never paid me a wage. Instead, he worked me mercilessly an’—”

“You were paid in room and board,” Jenks roared. “You ungrateful—” He clenched his fists, leaning toward Matt. “It’s only by my generosity you know anything about ranching! How dare you accuse me of wrongdoing?” Suddenly his shoulders relaxed. He lowered himself onto the sofa, crossing his legs and sliding his thumbs beneath the edge of his brocade vest. He looked every bit the cultured gentleman as he formed a sly smile. “But why should I argue with the likes of you, a no-good thieving orphan? You’ve got no proof of maltreatment. It’s your word against mine.”

Matt swallowed hard.
Lord, give me strength.
Looking directly into Jenks’s eyes, he said, “I do have proof.”

Jenks’s hands slid to his lap as Matt began to unbutton his shirt. Matt glanced at Clancy. The older man’s chin quivered. Clancy no doubt suspected what Matt was about to reveal. But it took more courage than he knew he possessed to slip his shirt away from his shoulders and turn his back to the men in the room.

A gasp split the air—Jackson’s. The low-toned “Dear Lord in heaven . . .” came from Mr. Harders. Matt felt certain Clancy held his breath.

Matt slipped his shirt back into place and turned to face Jenks once more. “I carry the mark of your ‘generosity’ with me. You think your rancher friends will have any respect for you when they know what you did to me? When they know what you probably continue to do to the boys you’ve got working your ranch? How many are there, Jenks, on your ranch right now?”

“That’s none of your business!”

Matt matched Jenks’s volume and tone. “How many?”

A fierce scowl provided all the answer Matt needed. Matt nodded at his boss. “He’s still doin’ it, Mr. Harders. He’s got orphaned boys workin’ for him, an’ he’s likely keepin’ ’em in line with his riding crop or a handmade bullwhip, just like he did me.”

Mr. Harders put his arm around Matt’s shoulders. “Jenks, decent men don’t turn a blind eye to the abuse of children.”

Jackson took two steps to stand beside his father. “What might happen to your reputation, Jenks, should word get out?”

Clancy moved to Matt’s other side, forming a unified front. “If you got any sense at all, Jenks, you’ll back off on tryin’ to buy any land around here. You’ll put them boys on a stagecoach an’ send ’em to Shay’s Ford to that new school what’ll be built by Miss Isabelle, so’s they can have a decent life.” His tone turned menacing. “Fact is, if no boys show up sayin’ you sent ’em, I’ll be comin’ after them. An’ I’ll make sure yo’re sorry it was necessary fer me to come.”

Jenks rose, glowering at Mr. Harders. “Are you going to stand there and allow your hired hand to threaten me?”

Mr. Harders replied calmly. “I didn’t hear a threat, Lester. I heard a promise. And, based on my long-time relationship with Clancy, I can assure you he keeps his promises.”

Matt added, “I’d do as he says.”

Jenks looked from one man to the next, his expression incredulous. “Anyone could have left those marks on his back. He can’t prove it was me!”

“And you can’t prove it wasn’t,” Jackson returned. “So no matter how you look at it, your reputation will be sullied. Win or lose, people will never look at you the same way.”

Jenks’s face glowed red as his own words were turned back on him. His jaw f lapped uselessly for a few seconds, and then he clamped his teeth together. He stormed past the men to the parlor’s doorway. Without turning around, he grated, “Jackson, take me to Shay’s Ford. I’m finished here.”

“That you be,” Clancy agreed, giving Matt a sad smile.

Jenks clomped out the door, and Jackson followed.

Mr. Harders turned to Matt. His eyes reflected sorrow. “Matt, I wish there was some way—”

Matt shook his head. “Can’t change what’s been done, Mr.

Harders. All we can do is move forward. But if we can get those boys off Jenks’s ranch and give ’em a chance to grow up with a little bit of peace and happiness, it’ll all be worth it.”

Clancy blew out a noisy breath. “Hoo-doggies, Matthew, don’t know how you stood up to that man after what he done, but I gotta tell ya, I’m right proud of ya, son.”

Matt chuckled, rubbing a finger under his nose. “Well, I admit, Clancy, I’m right proud of me, too.”
Thank you, Lord, for givin’ me the strength to face my nightmare
.