Mud Creek (25 page)

“Smart boys.” James grumbled.

“Yes, very smart boys. And brave, too. We wouldn’t have made it without their pitching in. Especially Robert. He was amazing.”

“Maybe there’s some hope that at least one of that brood will avoid the lunacy that runs in the family.”

“Maybe…”

She sighed and stared at the fire.

She still couldn’t quite accept that he’d waded into the storm to find them.

When she’d glanced up and had seen him hovered over her, she’d assumed she was hallucinating. She’d been so cold that she’d started to feel warm and sleepy, which she’d understood was a sign that she was freezing to death, but she’d grown too lethargic for rational deduction. She’d bizarrely decided it was best to huddle in the snow so they wouldn’t lose Evelyn again.

Then…James had appeared. Like an angel sent from heaven.

For a lengthy interval, they sat companionably, deep in contemplation. He was a comfortable partner, at ease with his ruminations and not inclined to fill the silence with chatter.

But finally, he asked, “What would you like to have happen now?”

“May I stay with you?”

“Of course, for as long as you want.”

Smiling, she gazed over at him. He was such a handsome man, such a kind man. She’d shown up in his yard, with nowhere else to go in the entire world. She had no money, no friends, and four children who were in even more jeopardy than Helen.

Whatever boon she sought from him, it had to include all of them.

“Can it be forever? What would you think of that?”

“It would be all right with me.”

“The children would have to stay, too, though. I’ve brought a whole group with me.”

“Mary will enjoy having them. She comes from a large family; she gets lonely.”

“Will she mind if I’m here?”

“No. She likes you.”

Helen was surprised. She’d only spoken to the woman on a handful of occasions, and the last had been the terrible day when Florence had cut herself. Helen had never even bothered to thank Mary for her assistance.

“I need a divorce,” she muttered.

“I’m so glad to hear it. When did you decide?”

“About the time the visibility dropped to nothing—and the horses spooked and ran away. It dawned on me that my marriage to Albert hadn’t been a very good idea.”

He chuckled. “In the legal proceedings, you have to give the judge a reason for your request. What would you cite as grounds?”

Divorce was such a rare and shocking occurrence. She wasn’t sure of the evidence required to have one granted.

“I hadn’t considered the grounds I’d use,” she said. “Mental cruelty? Is that a reason? Would it work?”

“It might. And you have to remember that if you don’t go back,
he
could divorce you. He’d be able to claim desertion.”

“Let him,” she hotly fumed. “I don’t care.”

“Despite how it ends, even if a court rules in your favor, you’ll be a fallen woman. People will whisper about you. They’ll call you a fornicator and an adulterer. Are you prepared for that type of low gossip?”

“After the months I’ve endured, the neighbors can titter all they want. It doesn’t matter.”

“All right then.” He nodded, convinced by her fervor. “I can help you with the divorce, and if no judge will allow it, you’ll remain with me anyway.”

“We’d be living in sin.”

He grinned. “Yes, we’d be living in tons of sin, but I expect we’d enjoy it.”

Previously, she’d worried over the prospect of fleeing her husband, but so much had transpired in the past few hours.

She felt as if one person—a different Helen from a different world—had awakened in Albert’s house that morning, and that a completely new person had arrived at James’s house that afternoon.

The Helen who had optimistically climbed onto that train in New York the prior spring no longer existed. She’d headed west with hope in her heart and mush in her brains.

She’d known she shouldn’t wed Albert, but she’d let fear and uncertainly push her into it.

Never again,
she vowed. Never again would she permit herself to be weak and insecure. She was tough and strong enough to face any obstacle. She was staying with James, and if others didn’t like it, they could choke on their opinions.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Why? Are you having second thoughts already?”

“I’m not planning to ever leave.”

“You’d better not be.”

“If you tell me I’m welcome, it’s forever. It’s until my dying day.”

“Until my dying day, too.”

“You’re a bachelor.”

“I was married once,” he astonished her by saying. “It won’t kill me to try it again.”

“You were married?”

“I never told you?”

“No.” Helen scowled and blurted out, “Did you love her?”

“I did. I loved her very much.”

“What was she like?”

“Real pretty. Real sweet. She was a city girl—like you. Not cut out for this hard life.”

“What happened to her?”

“Died in childbirth. My boy, too.”

There was a stunned silence where she realized that she didn’t know much about him. Not his history or his ancestors. Not his religion or his politics. Not his level of schooling or his financial situation.

The details she could list were few. He was kind. He was helpful. He was loyal and steady and true. What more was there worth learning?

She thought she could grow to love him very much. She thought she could love him until the end of time.

Tentatively, she ventured, “You said you don’t mind that I brought the children with me.”

“I don’t.”

“You claim to be fine with it now, you
bachelor,
but how will you feel in a week? In a month? In a year?”

“I’ll feel the same.”

“And I’ve been wishing that I could bring Florence home.”

“Florence!”

“After Walt passed, I started thinking about it. He was so quick to be rid of her, and he supplied no information about that asylum where he sent her. It could be a hideous place, and we wouldn’t have any idea.”

“Have you had any contact with her?”

“The boys and I wrote her a couple of letters, but we never received a reply.”

“That might indicate bad news.”

“Or that she didn’t get them. Or that the facility is so horrid that they wouldn’t let her read them or wouldn’t let her respond.”

“I suppose,” he mused.

“She might improve—without Walt constantly nitpicking. He was cruel to her.”

“I know.”

They were quiet again, staring, as he pondered her request. Finally, he smiled.

“I believe there might be a pattern developing,” he said.

“What sort of pattern?”

“I’ll never be able to tell you
no
. Whenever you ask a favor of me, I’ll roll over like a trained puppy.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Mary could probably aid Florence in calming her mind. Next time I’m in Prairie City, I’ll inquire for you. I’ll find out what it would take to have her released.”

“Thank you. Carl and Robert would like that very much. I would, too.”

“I’ll consider Florence,” he said, “but she’s the only one. My generosity will never extend to your sister. I just can’t have her here.”

“I understand, and after the way she acted toward the twins, I wouldn’t want her around them.”

“She stayed there with Albert, which is a crazy decision.”

“She’s never been known for her common sense.”

“I’m predicting their relationship will be a disaster.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Helen agreed.

“If she shows up on my stoop and begs to move in, she can’t. I’ll never waver on that point.”

“It’s not a choice you’ll ever have to make,” Helen promised.

“You’re too nice. It’s your nature. You’ll forgive her someday. You’ll begin to feel sorry for her.”

“I won’t. She’s burned through my compassion.”

He studied her, and she kept her gaze steady and firm, anxious for him to comprehend how much she’d changed.

The moment she’d walked out Albert’s door, she’d become someone new, someone determined to follow a better path.

She’d always been Violet’s champion, and her role as stalwart defender had shaped her whole life. What would it be like to be free of Violet’s destructive influence? Of her madness and machinations?

Perhaps she’d be able to breathe for the very first time.

“I want you to be happy,” he said.

“I
am
happy. Now that I’m here with you.”

“Your sister can’t be a wedge between us.”

“She won’t be.”

“We’ll see.”

“Yes,
we
will,” Helen swore.

She didn’t know what she would ultimately do about Violet. Her sister needed to be someplace where she was safe from harm, where she was fed and clothed and had a roof over her head.

When they’d initially left New York, Helen had thought Violet would benefit from the seclusion at the ranch, but it had been a bad idea.

Violet was ill-suited for such a grueling existence, and Helen had to accumulate the funds to send Violet away. Maybe to Maywood. Maybe to Minneapolis or some town closer to Mud Creek. Violet had to
go,
just as soon as Helen could arrange it.

But she was finished with fussing over Violet.

Helen had escaped her lot, her fate, and she was celebrating. From this point on, she wouldn’t look back. Only forward.

James held out his hand, and it hovered there, offering her a new destiny. There was a wonderful sense of expectation in the air, and she leaned over and linked their fingers.

He tugged her off her chair and onto his lap.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he told her.

“I’m going to let you.”

“Then I’m taking you to my bed. Do you want me to? It’s your first night in my home, and you’ve had a hard day.”

“I’m not tired,” she insisted, even though she stifled a yawn.

“We can wait. Would you rather?”

“No. I’m ready for whatever is coming my way.”

He pulled her nearer and touched his mouth to her own. In that single second, they both knew everything would be all right. They belonged together. They always had, and nothing and no one would ever keep them apart.

*    *    *    *

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Get up!”

Albert grabbed Violet by the arm and shook her. She was lying on her bedroll in front of the stove, a huge stack of quilts covering her.

She’d been there earlier when he’d bundled up and staggered out to do the morning chores. It was six hours later, and she was still loafing.

He’d arrived for dinner at the usual time, but without his mother or wife to tend to female business, the house was cold, the rooms dark, and no food to be eaten. There wasn’t even a hot cup of coffee available to warm his bones.

The blizzard was over, the skies clearing. The country—to the horizon—was a dazzling white that burned the eyes. The yard was a mess, with drifts so high they reached to the roof. His old cottage was completely buried.

He couldn’t ride out into the pasture to check the cattle. Some of the herd had to have perished, but it would be several days before he could find out for certain.

What if they’d all died? What if they’d been cornered in the wind and buried like the cottage? Would he lose the ranch? What would become of him then? How would he support himself?

A thousand panicked scenarios blazed through his head, and he shoved them away.

It didn’t do any good to worry. At the current moment, he couldn’t fix what was wrong. He was simply stressed because Helen was gone, his parents were gone, his brothers were gone.
He
was the only one left, on his own and having to fend for himself, with just Violet for company.

The previous evening, he hadn’t minded. They’d sat by the stove, and he’d shared his whiskey with her, even though his stash was swiftly dwindling. She’d been friendly until they’d finished the bottle and he’d refused to open another. Violet drank to excess and never had enough.

While he’d been stumbling around and crashing into the furniture, the potent alcohol seemed to have had no effect on her.

“Violet!” He shook her again. Hard.

“Go away,” she mumbled.

“I’m hungry.”

“So?”

“I told you to have hot food for me at one o’clock, remember?”

“And I told you that I don’t know how to cook.”

“You have to learn!” he bellowed. “Do you hear me?”

“Of course, I can hear you. I bet they can hear you all the way down in Prairie City.”

She yanked away and snuggled under the blankets.

“It’s cold as ice in here,” she whined. “Light the stove.”

“
You
are supposed to keep it lit. That’s your job.”

“You’re not my boss, and I don’t work for you.”

“You’ll work or you’ll starve.”

“Tough talk, Albert,” she sneered.

“Get up, you lazy witch!” He screamed the words, a shriek emanating from his throat that scraped it raw, but his fury was wasted on her.

“I’m ill,” she moaned. “I need Helen.”

“Well, Helen isn’t here, is she?”

“You sent her away.”

“She went on her own.”

“You shouldn’t have allowed her to go out in the storm.” Violet pushed herself up on an elbow. “She’s probably dead! They’re probably
all
dead because of you!”

“Shut up!”

“No. If they froze, it’s because you killed them. I’ll never see my sister again, because you killed her!”

“Don’t blame me, you little harlot. We agreed about the twins, that we shouldn’t share the food.”

“We have plenty now, don’t we? There’s no one to feed but us two.”

“Yes, there’s just us two, and you have to be the cook. I have to manage everything else. The least you can do is get your ass out of bed and prepare the meals.”

“I can’t, I can’t. I’m so sad. I’m so ill.” She sighed dramatically and slipped under the quilts again. “Helen knows how to tend me when I’m feeling like this.”

“She’s not here, and she’s not coming back. I won’t let her come back.”

“I need her!” Violet insisted.

“Too bad.”

When Helen had first marched out, he hadn’t worried. He’d believed, as had Violet, that she wouldn’t get ten feet down the road.