My Heart Will Find Yours (8 page)

Chapter Six

By nine a.m. Royce wanted to lock the jail doors. Half the population of Waco stopped in to see about Texanna. What they actually wanted to know was if she’d put up a fight and he’d had to cuff her. Due to all the hoopla, he couldn’t get any work done. Plus, his mind wandered to images of how Texanna would react to Garrett and interact with him.

Royce stopped by to see Garrett on his way into town. The boy had been full of questions, and Royce promised him they’d talk tonight. What would he tell him? How did you tell a child you don’t know if the woman staying in your home was his mother or not?
Lord, what a mess.

The woman at his house was very different from his wife. She was more outspoken and self-confident—a little too mouthy to his way of thinking. She needed to learn to curb her tongue. Where had she learned to talk like that? Pictures of unsavory places and situations ran through his mind tormenting him. If he discovered her behavior was due to abuse, he’d find the individuals responsible and see they paid.

Yet he couldn’t deny the resemblance to Pearl. Her hair was a little redder, her eyes darker blue, and the face that had once been fuller was now leaner as was her body. It had been four years. People changed physically over time. He shook his head in consternation and turned back to the papers in front of him.

Just when he thought he’d shoot the next person who walked into his office, Edna darkened his door. Mrs. Edna Murphy, the top hen in the pecking order of women in Waco, could handle any man, woman, or beast in town. He’d butted heads with her and lost more times than he’d like to admit.

Royce stood and escorted her to the chair by his desk. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”

Edna cocked an eyebrow and looked at him with suspicion. “I believe this is the first time I’ve been welcomed into your office.”

She was right. His joy at seeing her was a mite unusual. The stiff-necked matron had pestered him about several things in the last couple of years—the saloons, the brothels, and those hooligan boys who kept tearing up her flowerbeds.

“Well, yes, that’s true. But I just realized how valuable you can be in helping Texanna settle in after her experience.”

Edna’s eyes crackled with interest. “Really, what makes you think that?” She leaned forward in her chair, all ears.

“You know she claims she’s not Pearl, nor my wife, and insists on being called Texanna.”

Hands gripping the drawstring handbag in her lap, she nodded.

“She hasn’t revealed where she’s been the past four years. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t remember me, Garrett, or ever living here in Waco.”

Her jaw dropped, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, you poor boy, I’m so sorry to hear that.”

He was quiet for a minute, thinking about strategy—how to get the older woman to help both him and Texanna. The crowd traipsing in and out of his office was bad enough, but he didn’t want them flocking to his home to quiz Texanna either. Edna would be perfect at keeping folks at bay. If Texanna was his wife, he wanted her privacy respected, if she wasn’t, he didn’t want her story colored by other people’s opinions.

Edna waited for him to speak, but not patiently. The feather in her hat twitched like a dog’s rear end with its tail wagging.

“I need someone to be an example for the community, someone who can lead the others to not gang up on Texanna and ask her a bunch of questions. Let her memory return in due time.”

Edna clasped her hands over her non-existent bosom. “She doesn’t remember a thing?” Royce shook his head. “Oh, the poor dear.” She drew herself up in the chair. “I can assure you, Marshal, the job will be taken care of as of this minute.”

Royce scratched his chin. “There’s one other thing you can do that will help me immensely.”

Thrilled at the opportunity to be in the spotlight, Edna took up residence in front of the jail. In a rocking chair he borrowed from the general store, she sat and turned away the curious. If they didn’t heed her advice and move on, she whacked them with her umbrella to get them moving. Royce was finally able to work. But no matter how busy he got, a strawberry-headed woman wasn’t far from his mind.

He was studying an arrest warrant for Sam Bass and his gang when a knock sounded on his door, and Jason stuck his head in. “Danielle Stokes would like to see you.”

****

Texanna stepped out onto the wide front porch that ran the length of the house. She eyed the rockers and imagined sitting here in the evenings, listening to the night sounds. A white picket fence enclosed a small front yard. She could make out Mrs. Farley’s house a short distance away.

Back in the kitchen, she opened a door she’d not noticed earlier and found a room with windows across one wall. In a corner, an easel held a painting covered by a drop cloth. The hair on Texanna’s neck stood on end. Pearlina’s painting studio. Even in her previous life, she’d painted. Texanna reached out to remove the cloth, and then drew back. Would Pearl resent her looking at her work?

Unable to stop herself, she uncovered the painting. The cloth fell to the floor. It was a child, a small boy, perhaps three to four years old. His hair was dark, his eyes blue and the pure smile on his face reached inside and twisted her heart.

“That’s me when I was little.”

Texanna yelped and jumped away from the easel. A boy stood in the door, a mischievous smile making his blue eyes dance.
Garrett.

Hand over her heart, she took a deep breath. “Whew. You scared the dickens out of me.”

His face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Bet I looked funny, huh?”

His head bobbed, and the smile returned.

“You must be Garrett.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chewed his lip and studied the toe of his boot. “Are you my mother?”

Oh, God.
What now, Texanna
? If she said yes, I’m your mother, Garrett would be hurt when the time came for her to leave. But what did she tell him now?

“Uh, no, Garrett. I’m not.”

“Oh.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “Who’re you then?”

Good question. Who the hell am I? Or, at the least, what can I tell this kid and other people when they ask?
Everyone believed she was Royce’s wife. How would they react when they found out she wasn’t?

Texanna heard someone call, “Garrett.” She supposed it was Mrs. Farley looking for him. The screen door in the kitchen squeaked.

“Garrett. Where are you?”

“He’s in here, Mrs. Farley. Come on in.”

Mrs. Farley crossed the kitchen and into the adjoining room where they stood looking at the painting. “Oh, dear. I didn’t intend for Garrett to come over and be underfoot today. You need time to settle in.”

“Oh, he’s not a bother.” Texanna smiled down at Garrett. “However, young man, you need to always tell Mrs. Farley when you leave her yard. Otherwise, she’ll worry. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He rushed to Mrs. Farley and hugged her abundant waist. “I’m sorry, Aunt Aggie. I forgot.” She dropped a kiss on top of his head.

“Just try to remember next time.” Mrs. Farley’s gaze met Texanna’s over Garrett’s head.

“How are you today?”

“I’m good.” She turned back to the painting. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Texanna could see Mrs. Farley studying her as she bent to look closer at the painting. She seemed pleased at her interest in the portrait. “Yes, it is. Do you think you’ll finish it now?”

Texanna’s eyes lit at her question. “I’d love to, Mrs. Farley, but I don’t have any paints.”

“No paints? Why, the entire cupboard is filled with paints and stuff. Royce let you buy all the supplies you wanted, and Texanna, you always called me Aggie. Please do so again.”

Texanna smiled and nodded.

“Good.” Aggie bent and whispered in Garrett’s ear. “Show her the supplies.” He grinned and opened the cupboard door.

Texanna eyes widened as she looked from Garrett to Aggie. “Oh, my, this is wonderful.”

Texanna examined the tubes of paint and pulled brushes out to inspect the bristles.

Garrett stood at Texanna’s side, his face turned up to watch her. Texanna smiled down at him and put an arm around the boy’s thin shoulders. Garrett leaned into her side. A lump formed in her throat.

“What do you think, Garrett? Should I finish your painting?” He nodded. “Good, we’ll get started as soon as I figure out where the food’s kept and how to work the stove.”

She saw Aggie shake her head. “I’ll be happy to help you, dear,” she said.

Aggie hustled Texanna into the kitchen. They collected potatoes, onions, and carrots from the root cellar and set about peeling and paring the vegetables.

An hour later, they had a good fire burning in the cookstove and a stew bubbling, its rich aroma filling the house. Aggie wrote down a recipe for corn bread and mixed the dry ingredients for the first batch. All Texanna had to do was add the fat, egg, and milk just before baking.

Texanna bit her lip. She wasn’t sure how to stoke the fire to heat the oven properly. She guessed she’d learn from experience.

“Garrett, come on home with me until your pa gets home.” The boy’s face fell.

“Oh, Aggie, let him stay. He won’t be any trouble.” Texanna ruffled Garrett’s hair. “Will you, sport?”

“No, ma’am, I sure won’t. I promise.”

****

Royce swore at his bad luck. He didn’t want to face the woman right now, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice. When she breezed into the room, he stood and rounded his desk to offer her a chair.

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll just be a minute.” Her lips were pinched, her face pale. Dressed in a navy blue, Sunday dress with a matching bonnet, she appeared formal and cold. Well hell, he didn’t blame her.

“Please, Danielle, sit down for a minute and let me explain.”

“I don’t see there’s anything to explain. Your wife returns, and then disappears
again
. You come calling and convince me the woman is not your wife but an imposter.”

“Look, I—”

She held up a gloved hand. “No, no. Let me finish. I accepted your invitation to the July Fourth dance. And now, after the entire town knows we have a date, the woman returns, and this time you claim her as your wife.”

He couldn’t deny he’d put her in a bad situation. “I’m sorry, Danielle. I’d never hurt you intentionally.”

“Well, you have, Royce Dyson,
again
. This time I intend to get even.” She turned on her heel and left the room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

****

As soon as Royce rode into the yard, he smelled something burning. He jumped off Samson and ran to the back steps. His mouth opened to call out, but the words remained trapped in his throat. Texanna’s voice rang sweetly around him. She was singing. It was a song he’d never heard before, but the words and melody were haunting.

“My prayer...is to linger...with you.”

He could see them through the open window. Royce removed his boots as he listened to her lovely voice. Quietly—he needed to oil the damn squeaky screen door—he entered the kitchen and removed the burning food from the oven. The door to Pearl’s studio was partially closed, so she hadn’t seen him enter the house. He padded in sock-clad feet to the door to watch, his heart in his throat.

Texanna sat on a stool, hidden behind the large canvas, paints splattered across the board in her hand. Garrett sat on the floor facing her, a sketchpad across his knees.

“Tilt your head up for me, Garrett,” said Texanna. “Ah, that’s good. I like that smile. Has anyone ever told you you’re a carbon copy of your father?”

“What’s a carbon copy?”

Her laugh of pleasure squeezed his heart. “It means you look just like your father.”

Royce cleared his throat. Both heads swiveled in his direction. Garrett jumped up and ran to him. He caught his son in a quick hug.

Texanna slid off the stool. “Oh, goodness. I forgot the time.” She picked up a cleaning rag and started wiping her hands.

“Don’t hurry. Go ahead and clean your brushes.”

“Hey, Pa. Look what I’m drawing. Texanna’s teaching me.”

“Texanna, huh?”

Texanna avoided his eyes.

“That’s what she told me to call her, Pa.” His frown showed concern he’d done wrong.

“That’s fine, Son.” Royce looked down at Garrett’s sketchpad. “Let’s see what you’ve done.” It was a rough drawing of Texanna at the easel. Not bad for an eight-year-old. Clearly he’d inherited some of his mother’s talent. It certainly hadn’t come from his side of the family.

“It’s not very good, is it?” Garrett’s voice was resigned but his expression hopeful.

“I think it’s mighty good for a beginner. You may be as good as your moth... as Texanna with a little practice.” Garrett’s face broke into a grin, and he stood up a little straighter.

Texanna flushed at his near-slip and finished cleaning her brushes. She studied Garrett’s sketch. “Your father is right. It’s very good, sport. I think this afternoon we’ll have drawing lessons. Would you like that?”

His face lit. “You bet.”

Royce saw her nose twitch—her sense of smell was no longer blocked by paint and turpentine. “Oh my gosh! I’ve burned the cornbread!”

“It’s fine, Texanna. I took it out of the oven. It’s overdone but edible.”

Her face registered disgust. “I burned my first batch of cornbread. Oh! What about the stew?” She dropped her cleaning rag and hurried to the stove. Her face relaxed. “It looks okay. It may be too thick, but I can add some water.”

“Looks fine to me, I like my stew thick.” Royce put his hand to Garrett’s back and locked eyes with Texanna.

“Sport? Come on, sport. Let’s wash up.”
What kind of name was sport?

Texanna’s face colored, and he swallowed the laugh that threatened.

****

Texanna watched through the window as the man and boy washed their hands at the water pump just outside the barn. A towel hung on the handle. Sport, indeed. She’d better choose her words more carefully as Royce picked up every small detail. However, what did it matter? He needed to learn she wasn’t from this time period.