The Inheritance (21 page)

“Mei’s pretty, huh, Kenny?”

McKenna pulled her thoughts back and peered down. “Yes, honey, she is. She’s very pretty.”

Emma kicked at a pebble on the boardwalk and missed. McKenna paused as she tried again a second time and sent the rock flying.

“Mei’s different from us, huh, Kenny?”

“Yes, she’s different. But she’s also very much like us too.” She could see Emma’s mind at work yet decided not to comment further. They were in the part of Copper Creek called the Chinese Quarter—as she’d learned—and were surrounded by Mei’s countrymen.

The boardwalk ended, and they negotiated the stairs to the street.

A warm, sunny July afternoon encouraged people outdoors, and groups of townsfolk, mostly men, gathered outside the closed shops, sitting on chairs and stools, conversing in their native language. The inflection in their voices had a singsong quality and was quite beautiful to listen to. Yet they laughed and spoke intermittently and so quickly, it was a wonder they understood each other at all.

McKenna smiled to herself, thinking they probably thought the same thing when hearing people speak English.

The men were dressed in wide-legged pants and long tunics, all with partially shaved heads and long braids similar to that of the man she’d seen in Mei’s company. A few looked up when she passed, but they never held her gaze.

Despite her and Emma being in the minority, she felt comfortable here. More so than when they’d passed the saloons earlier and men had whistled and called out to her. She’d learned over time to ignore behavior like that—though it still bothered her. Thankfully, Emma hadn’t understood what the men were saying.

Coming to a corner, she was starting to doubt whether they’d find a place open for a “nice treat” when Emma tugged on her hand.

“There she is!” Emma tugged harder. “I see Mei!”

McKenna looked in the direction she pointed and sure enough, there was Mei in a crowd of people crossing the street— along with that man.

“Let’s go see her!” Emma yanked on her hand.

“We will. But you mustn’t pull on me.” McKenna raised a brow.

Emma stared up, and then nodded. “Yes, ma’am, Aunt Kenny.”

Witnessing the child’s compliance, her spirits lifted. Another small victory, and an encouragement that perhaps she could make this work with Emma after all. “Thank you, Emma,” she whispered. “Now let’s go see Mei!”

As they drew closer, McKenna noticed that the man with Mei had his arm draped around an elderly gentleman, supporting the man’s stooped frame. The two men maneuvered their way up the stairs to the planked walkway and Mei followed, her tiny steps mirroring the older man’s. The three paused by an entryway—the laundry where she and Mei first met.

As the younger man opened the door and assisted the elderly man inside, Mei happened to glance in their direction. Her smile was instant and full. And McKenna couldn’t help but wave in response. She and Emma quickly closed the distance and climbed the stairs.

“Miss Mei!” Emma called, and reached out to touch the ornate fabric of Mei’s tunic. McKenna gently restrained the child but could hardly fault her curiosity. Mei’s tunic was exquisite, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Mei was wearing it for some special occasion.

The tunic was the blue of a summer sky after a storm and crafted with multicolored embroidered detail on the
front and sleeves. Mei wore a coordinating slender-fitting skirt that accentuated her petite frame but seemed to only further inhibit her walking.

Mei took hold of Emma’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, then moved closer and held the material out for her to feel.

The crowd of people Mei had accompanied stood below the boardwalk a short distance away, talking to one another, and sneaking occasional glances. McKenna spotted a little girl about Emma’s age in the group. The little girl watched Emma, a curious smile on her face.

Footsteps drew McKenna back, and she found herself face-to-face with the younger Chinese man. He was scarcely as tall as she, yet he had a muscular build. His arms were folded across his chest and deep lines furrowed his brow. She resisted the urge to take a backward step.

He looked at Mei as if expecting an explanation. Mei whispered something to him and he fired back in rapid Chinese, his tone hushed, but halting. Mei flinched, her smile fading. Blinking, she finally bowed low. He turned and walked inside.

A rush of indignation heated McKenna at the impertinence. How dare he—whoever the man was—treat Mei that way! To demand such subservience! Already deciding she didn’t like him, she worked to mask her disapproval. “Good afternoon, Mei. How are you today?”

“I . . . good. Mc-Ken-na.”

“Very good,” McKenna said, pleased.

Mei’s focus shifted to Emma. “Em-ma . . . moon pie!” she said, her countenance brightening.

Emma stepped forward. “Kenny and I went to your bakery, Miss Mei, but you weren’t there. Kenny says we’re going to get a treat! You wanna come with us? You can if you want!”

Soft crinkles at the corners of Mei’s eyes revealed her confusion. She gently shrugged and shook her head.

For a moment, the three of them stared at each other.

“Better . . . now?” McKenna finally asked, recalling Mei’s tears from the day at the bakery, and fairly sure she’d remember the phrase.

Mei smiled, seeming to understand. “Better now. Th-ank . . . you.”

McKenna caught Emma waving to the little Chinese girl. Suddenly shy, the girl lowered her eyes, then snuck another look at Emma and put her hand over her mouth, giggling.

“Can I go see her, Aunt Kenny?”

“Yes, you may. But stay right there.”

Emma took off down the boardwalk.

“Be sure and tell her your name,” McKenna called after her, knowing she probably couldn’t hear over the rumble of a passing wagon.

Emma approached and spoke to the girl, who seemed to develop a sudden interest in Clara. Emma held out the doll and the girl fingered the edge of Clara’s dress, soiled though it was.

McKenna looked back to find Mei studying her. They smiled at each other.

“Better now?” Mei asked after a long moment.

McKenna nodded, finding the question both sweet and frustrating. She wished they could communicate beyond a handful of words. She checked on Emma only to see her talking nonstop to the little girl about something. The girl’s expression hinted at amusement, but was void of comprehension. McKenna knew the feeling.

“Wish . . . I . . . talk better.”

McKenna looked back to find Mei’s head bowed. “Oh no . . . you talk very well, Mei. Your English is very good.”

Mei shook her head. “Wish . . . I . . . talk better.”

“And I wish I could bake.” McKenna smiled, trying to soften the moment.

Mei’s head came up. Something flickered in her eyes. “Bake?” She mimicked patting something out in her hands. “You?”

“No.” McKenna laughed. “I said I
wish
I could bake.” She pointed to herself and lifted her shoulders. “No bake.”

“Ah . . .” Seconds passed, and Mei’s dark brows arched. “I . . . bake,” she said, making the patting motion again. She gestured to McKenna. “To you.”

McKenna didn’t know which pleased her more—that she’d understood what Mei was saying, or Mei’s offer to teach her how to bake. “Yes! I would like that very much.” And since turnabout was fair play . . . “You teach me how to bake. And I teach you how to . . . talk better English.”

Slowly, Mei began to nod, and kept nodding. Her eyes glistened. “I bake . . . to you.”

“And I talk . . . to you!” McKenna laughed, knowing she was getting the better end of the deal.

Mei reached out and put a tentative hand on her arm. McKenna covered it, surprised at the kinship she felt. What an unexpected friendship she’d found. And right when she needed one.

She turned to check on Emma and the little girl—and didn’t see them. Either of them. The crowd of people was gone. The street was empty but for a gathering of men down the way and a couple of wagons passing by. McKenna walked to the edge of the boardwalk and scanned the street in both directions.

“Emma?”

She walked to the corner and looked up and down the thoroughfare, vaguely aware of Mei following. “Emma!” she called again, fighting a rising tide of panic. Her insides twisted tight. A cold seed of fear took root as she screamed Emma’s name over and over.

But Emma was gone.

NINETEEN

T
he shores of Copper Creek were muddy and slick. With the final lingering vestiges of winter succumbing to summer’s warmth, the mountain-fed stream ran high with snowmelt from the peaks perched loftily above the town.

As he’d done many times before, Wyatt followed the creek bank as it ribboned around and through the community, drawing unexplained comfort from the melody of water coursing over smooth rock. And with each note played, he imagined snowflakes, fallen months ago, now skimming past him toward the valley below, fulfilling their purpose. Everything came full circle in this life. It was part of nature, God’s design. And he sensed that same thing happening inside him. Only, he didn’t know what it meant.

Or what God had in store for him.

He only knew that no matter what it was, he was determined to follow the path God wanted for his life. If he could only figure out what that was . . .

He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. Was it staying with the Marshals Office? Or maybe heading back to San Antonio to help with the family ranch? His sisters and their husbands were there, but he knew his siblings would welcome his help. Maybe even expect it, seeing as their parents were getting on in years.

He stooped to pick up a rock and noticed the bruised flesh covering the knuckles of his right hand.

Robert Ashford . . .

He was one young man who had no idea what path he was headed down. That became all too clear last night. But Robert would have to figure that out on his own. Wyatt only hoped the boy would learn it sooner rather than later, and that McKenna wouldn’t end up paying too high a price for her brother’s mistakes. He rubbed the rock between his thumb and forefinger, fearing his first hope held greater likelihood than his second.

He paused for a moment, certain he’d heard something. He looked downstream, saw no one, and took another step—then heard it again.

A faint cry . . .

He dropped the rock and followed the sound as best he could over the splash of the creek. When he rounded the corner, he saw her.

Even at a distance, he recognized Emma sprawled
headlong in the street, and he broke into a run. The road was empty, so was the boardwalk. He knelt beside her and helped her sit up. “Emma . . . honey, are you okay?”

Tears streaked her dusty cheeks. “I-I lost my Aunt Kenny, and”—she hiccupped a sob—“m-my mommy’s gone.” Her face crumpled.

“Oh, little one . . . come here.” He gathered her to him, and she came without hesitation. He stood and wiped her tears, and checked for injuries. No broken bones. Nothing but a skinned knee that a little soapy water—and maybe a sugar stick—would fix right up. “Shh . . . it’s okay.” He smoothed the hair on the back of her head, and her little arms came around his neck. A lump rose in his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Her sobs came harder. “Clara fell down too, Mr. Wyatt.” She drew back and held up the doll. “She’s all dirty. And she stinks.”

Wyatt tried his best not to smile. Clara was indeed filthy. And wet. Apparently she’d gone for a swim in the same mud puddle Emma had fallen in. Only it wasn’t just mud, judging from the smell.

“Here . . .” He gently chucked her beneath the chin. “Let’s see if we can find your Aunt Kenny. You want to?”

The little girl nodded with a hint of uncertainty. “But I got my dress all dirty. She’s gonna be mad.”

Knowing there might be some truth to that, he also knew Miss Ashford would be worried sick. “Do you remember where you were with Aunt Kenny before you got lost?”

Emma shook her head. “I was talkin’ to my friend, and I looked up . . .” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “And Aunt Kenny was gone.”

Wyatt knew better than to think it was McKenna Ashford who had wandered away. “We’ll find her, don’t you worry.”