Sundown (12 page)

Arabella took advantage of the silence, which fell between her and the Parson.  Staring at the wide girth of Bray Hanly’s back she suddenly felt sorry for the inhospitable man.  No wonder he cut his brother down to pieces with a withering glare.  Given the crises, she realized she would have to readjust her entire opinion of this man.

“There’s no need to feel sorry for something you could not have prevented, or even known.”  The Parson suddenly returned his eyes soft and warm in their openness.  “Miss Gentry, Bella.  May I call you that?”

“You may, between the two of us.”

“Thank you.”  He murmured.  “To be honest and forthright, I love my brother very much, so much in fact I’d give my own life for him.  He, on the other hand is hurting about something more than I can divulge.  One day, God will open his eyes and he will see the light.  Until then, all I can do is weather his storm.”

Arabella nodded.  Not sure, she could handle her own voice she swallowed hard over the Parson’s frankness.  No matter what person he had been before, she knew this did not matter now.  She was certain he was a good man. 

“Parson Hanly, I’m afraid you have me at quite a disadvantage.”  She told him.  “I don’t know your first name.”

“I’m afraid I’ll not impress you.”  The Parson shook his head, and issued her a sheepish smile.  “But if you must know, my first name is Judas.”

Arabella tried not to laugh, but given what she knew of his situation, the past and his present she could not help herself.

“I knew you’d laugh.”  He chuckled in return.  “To be on the safe side, can we settle for Jude instead?”

“Jude, it is.”  She murmured.  Throwing him a furtive glance, she asked.  “So does little Sam call you Uncle Jude?”

“Of course he does.”  He replied.  “On the other hand, Bray’s the only one in the family that calls me Judas.”

Arabella frowned. 

It was obvious their sibling relationship was not healthy.  Remembering her conversation with Sam, she wondered if his father’s accidental death had any part in the scheme of recent events. 

“Can I ask you another personal question?”

Jude narrowed his eyes.  “That would depend.”

“Sam mentioned something the other day that was shocking.”

“He did?”  Jude sounded alarmed.

“Yes.”  She returned.  Looking away, she looked toward the wagon and focused on the boy who playfully punched his uncle in the arm.  “He told me your brother accidentally shot and killed his father.  Is this true?”

Jude looked down at his hands.  Flexing his fingers, he nodded his head with painful resignation.  Shrugging his shoulders, he let out a bottomless sigh. 

“Bray meant the bullet for me.”

Arabella swallowed. 

“Because of the woman?”

“
Rosanna
.”

Speechless, Arabella felt her chest tighten. 

Not only did she feel sorrow for the Hanly brothers, but young Sam and Jenny as well.  Now everything made sense, even the Sunday sermon.  It was evident this family needed a caring hand, one that brought healing.  Wiping away a wayward tear, she straightened her back with
purpose.

Around the bend, she could see the first inkling of a ranch house.  It was not a sprawling mansion yet she decided the two-story clapboard ranch house was quaint, and inviting. 

As they drew near, the Hanly wagon slowed until, finally it halted.  Quickly, she drew in on the reigns, making her horse team canter before coming to a complete stop.  Looking over at Jude, she smiled.

“Thank you for enlightening me.”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can divulge.”  He returned with a strange smile.  Taking her hand, he gave a friendly squeeze.  “Sometimes there are certain
topics, which are better-off unsaid.”

Arabella watched as he pulled his hand away, and hopped down from the wagon.  Perplexed, she descended from the wagon staring after the Parson, wondering what he meant by such a peculiar comment.  Fetching her pie, she forgot the curious exchange as she listened to Sam rouse his uncle with some happy news.

“Uncle Jude!”  Sam called, jumping down from the wagon.  “Miss Mamie is gonna have her foal!”

“She is?”  Jude inquired, touching the boy’s curly head.

“Yep.”  Sam shook his head.  “You’ve got to take a peek.”

Arabella watched Sam as he dragged Jude off toward the barn, while Bray helped Jenny down from the wagon.  With careful handling, she watched with fascination as his strong hands easily prevented his sister-in-law from faltering while she watched her son run off toward the barn.

“Don’t get too close!”  Jenny called.  “You’ll make the poor thing nervous.”

Taking a deep breath, Jenny righted her posture.  Releasing Bray’s arm, she smiled at Arabella. 

“Why don’t we start on supper?”

Arabella soon learned Jenny was a magnificent cook.  A womanly talent she had to admit she sorely lacked.  Luckily, Lena’s fresh pie made up for her inadequacy around the kitchen.

“When I was a young girl,” She murmured, leaning against the counter, observing Jenny as she cut rounds of buttermilk biscuits.  “I remember watching my mother make these.”

“Your mother liked to cook?”

“Yes.”  Arabella shook her head.  “From what little I recall.”

“This must have been very hard.”  Jenny pressed another biscuit mold and pressed into her rolled dough.  “Losing your mother at so young of an age.

“I think.”  Arabella murmured.  “The loss was much harder on my father.”

“I’m sure it was.”  Jenny paused.  Turning her chin, she eyed Arabella with understanding.  “When you lose a partner, it seems as though your whole world is falling apart.”

“It’s been nearly fifteen years now.”  She replied.  Pushing away from the counter, she wandered toward the kitchen window, peering outside.  She spied Sam sitting on the porch entertaining his Uncle Jude, while Jake and Trig whittled away at sticks, yet curiously, there was no sign of Bray.  Sighing, she turned to Jenny and shook her head.  “I thought by now he’d surely find another wife.”

“Some people never marry again.”  She replied, putting the baking tin in the oven.  “I for one don’t know if I’ll ever marry again either.  There now, this will only take a few minutes and then we can call the boys in.”

With the table set, Jenny removed her apron.  Opening the screen door, she peeked outside.

“Where’s your brother?”

Jake pointed toward the barn.

“Sam sweetheart, why don’t you go get your Uncle Bray.”  Jenny ordered.  “Supper’s on the table.”

“Don’t worry, Sam.  I’ll get your Uncle Bray.”  Jude glanced over at Jenny who stared at him with
uncertainty.  Smiling, he reassured her with a casual wink.  “You wash up, and help your Momma.  Be right back, Jenny.”

Jenny folded her arms.

“Trouble brewing?”  Arabella inquired, stepping forward she peered out the door and spied Jude heading for the barn.

“Maybe, I’m not certain.”  She replied her soft voice filled with frustration.  “I hope not.”

“Jude means well.”

“Jude?”  Jenny smiled.  “You’re on a first name basis?”

Arabella laughed.  “It’s not what you think.”

Jenny returned her laughter with a mysterious sparkle, one that lit up her heather blue eyes.  “It never is now, is it?”

Luke watched with fascination as Miss Mamie labored with heavy breathing.  It was the mares first foaling.  Running a hand against her flanks, he tried to gentle the dam with his touch.  In return, the horse lifted her head, and nickered, while sweat glistened across her protruding belly. 

“There now, Miss Mamie.”  Luke murmured.  “It will all be over soon.”

A creak at the barn door withdrew Luke’s attention from his birthing mare.  Just inside the doorway stood the one person he least expected.  Jude stared back at him with an impenetrable gaze.  Placing his hands in his pockets, he issued his brother a curt nod. 

“What do you want?”

“Supper’s ready.” 

“Why in the hell did they send you to tell me?”

Jude stepped inside the barn, and wandered toward the stall.  Looking over the railing, he glanced down at Miss Mamie and shook his head.  “She’s having a hard time of it?”

Luke ignored his question. 

He could immediately see this was his brother’s poor attempt to make amends.  Shaking his head, he let go of his horse and stood to his feet with a brittle reply. 

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”  Jude inquired, leaning over the railing.

“This.”  Luke replied, lifting a hand he motioned toward his brother.  “This making up you’re attempting.”

“I haven’t offered you any apologies.”  Jude murmured.  He shifted his leg, resting his boot upon a lower rung.  Shaking his head, he narrowed his gaze.  “Just helping out, that’s all.”

“Well then.”  Luke returned, marching toward the edge of the stall, he stood within arm’s reach of his older brother.  “You want to help?  You can start by keeping your damn hands away from my woman.”

Jude squared his shoulders with a slight smile. 

“If you love her as you say then you should have enough sense to know she’s a good woman.  She’s no
Rosanna
Putnam, and she deserves much better than you can give her.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”  Luke grappled his fists.  Jumping within inches of his brother’s face, he clenched the railing and growled with warning.  “She’s none of your goddamned business.”

“She’s a friend.”  Jude returned.  Lifting his eyes, he shook his head.  “I’d rather not see her hurt by your foolishness.”

“I should kill you for that.”

Jude stood his ground and returned softly.

“If anyone says I love God
yet hates his brother, he is a liar.
For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen
.”

Luke shook his head, and released his grip on the railing.  Stepping back, he launched a skeptical laugh. 

“Always the man of God, aren’t you brother?”

“Luke.”  Jude gazed at him with what seemed like torn sincerity.  “Just wanted to let you know I love you.”

“Get out.”  Luke said.  Though his response seemed
hushed, his eyes were ablaze with rage.  “Just get the hell out.”

Jude averted his brother’s hateful gaze. 

Bidding his harsh request, Jude turned on his heel and walked away.  Pausing at the barn door, he rested his hand on the entryway panel when he heard his brother’s voice behind him.

“You took
Rosanna
, and then you took Cole.”  His voice was cold and exact.  “By God, if I’ll stand by and let you take
her
from me.”

Jude turned his chin.  Shaking his head, he gazed back at Luke with a sad smile. 

“You have it wrong brother.  I never took
Rosanna
from you. 
She
was the one who chose me.  As for Cole, he chose to save my life by taking
your
bullet that
you
had
meant for me.”

Luke stood still, listening to the echo of his brother’s footsteps as he departed.  Clenching his hands, he turned and paced with
vehemence. 

Falling to his knees, he watched numbly. 

Miss Mamie increased her labored breathing, a sign that at any moment, the mare would foal.  He tried to grasp the elated moment, yet all he could do was think about his brother and his departing words.  Deep down, he knew Jude was right. 

This did not change how betrayed he felt.  Nor was it something he would ever forgive.  Brushing his mare’s mane, Luke fought to control his swirling emotions.  He had heard his brother, loud and clear.  Love was a powerful word, one he seldom used. 

Was it possible his brother’s use of religion was not a smoke screen after all, and he truly walked his life with God?  Still filled with doubt, he leaned over his mare, noticing the dam was about to breach.