The Inheritance (48 page)

May 27, 1878

A
s McKenna peeled potatoes for the roast, she found her gaze returning to the road, as if her heart was tethered to whoever might appear around the bend. Because it was.

Feeling a tug on her skirt, she glanced down. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Can—I—” Emma tried to speak around a mouthful of warm bread.

“Finish your bite first.” Smiling, McKenna tweaked her chipmunk cheeks.

Rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet, Emma nodded, her eyes squinting at the corners, so much like Janie’s.

McKenna glanced behind her at Mei, who was kneading more dough on the kitchen table. Mei pounded the lump again and again, rotating it a quarter turn each time, and forming a rhythm as she went along—
Thwack!, turn—Thwack!, turn—
Thwack!, turn—
which is probably why her bread came out so fluffy and perfect every time. Something McKenna had come to accept would never be said of hers. Although it
had
improved.

Emma made a show of swallowing. “Mama, can I go with Mr. Chin? He found a nest in the trees and it’s got baby birdies in it.”

McKenna glanced through the window and saw Chin Li waiting by the porch steps. “Yes, you may. But remember not to touch the birds.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Emma was out the door in a flash.

Smiling, still loving the sound of
Mama
on Emma’s lips, McKenna added the potatoes to the roast and returned the pan to the oven. She peered through the window and followed Emma and Chin Li’s progress as they walked toward the stand of aspen growing along the edge of the field. Emma’s endless stream of chatter drifted through the open window, and McKenna wondered if Chin Li ever grew weary of it. He didn’t seem to.

Just then, Emma reached up and grabbed his hand. Chin Li’s arm went stiff, and he pulled away. McKenna cringed. She’d spoken with Emma about this before. Chin Li was such a private man. Not even he and Mei held hands in public.

Chin Li peered down, and slowly—very slowly—wrapped his fingers around her hand.

Beaming up at him, Emma started chattering away again as they continued on. McKenna’s appreciation for the man deepened tenfold. Then something drew her gaze back to the road and her pulse kicked up a notch.

But no one was there. It must have been the wind in the trees.

Wyatt had been in Denver for the past three days, arranging for Robert’s release. Memories of what happened in the courthouse weren’t as clear as they once had been, but there were moments, like now, when they crept closer than she would have liked. The prisoner—scheduled to have been hanged for his crimes—had been served justice swiftly that day, more swiftly than his wrongs demanded.

That day had also served as the final turning point for Wyatt’s career. He’d resigned as a U.S. Marshal one week later.

Robert was found innocent of shooting the U.S. Marshal, but guilty in the charge of attempted robbery. Understandably so. The maximum sentence for his part in the crime was seven months, and Robert had served every day of his seven-month sentence. McKenna hadn’t spoken to him once during that time. She’d written letters, but had stopped hoping for a response months ago.

Wyatt told her Robert was quiet these days and that he wasn’t exactly sure what was going on inside her brother, which only encouraged McKenna to pray more fervently.

A wave of dizziness came over her, and she gripped the edge of the washbasin, suddenly overwarm.

“You want tea?” Mei asked behind her.

McKenna turned to see Mei holding up the pitcher. “Yes, I’d love some, thank you.”

Mei was as at home in this kitchen as she was in her own, and her green tea rivaled her moon cakes. She poured a glass and McKenna took a long satisfying drink.

“Mmm, that’s delicious. Thank you.”

Mei smiled, her eyes lowering to McKenna’s rounded abdomen even as she covered her own. “Our babies be good friends. Like you and me.”

McKenna laughed softly. “We’ll make certain of that.” Her gaze dropped to Mei’s feet. Wordless, she crossed the room and dragged a stool over to the table. “You have to be hurting, Mei. Please sit down.”

Though she and Mei had grown close in recent months, McKenna had said nothing to Mei about her Lotus feet. What was there to say? Nothing corrective could be done at this late stage, as Dr. Foster had confirmed. And she wasn’t even sure that Mei would want anything to be attempted in the first place.

Mei looked at the stool, then at McKenna. “Thank you,” she said, easing her still slight weight onto the seat. She sighed. “Much better now.” She smiled that special way a person did when recalling a shared joke, then just as quickly, her smile faded. She looked down at her feet. “If we have daughter, Chin Li already say . . .” Her voice broke. Her face crumpled. “We no do this to her.”

Hurting for her friend, McKenna hesitated, unsure about the emotion behind Mei’s reaction. Was she happy at Chin Li’s decision? Or sad? Hugging her from the side, she smoothed a hand over Mei’s back.

Mei sniffed and sat up straighter. “You saw . . . my feet. That day Emma was lost.” Her eyes said she already knew the truth.

“I saw,” McKenna whispered. “But only briefly.”

Mei nodded and lifted the hem of her full pants to display an exquisite slipper beneath. Her smile trembled. “Can you reach for me?”

Understanding her request, McKenna bent, grasping the edge of the table for balance, and carefully removed Mei’s slipper. Mei’s foot was bound with cloth.

“It is custom among my people that started long time ago. Nine hundred years.” Mei tried to lean down, as if wanting to remove the binding from around her foot, but she couldn’t quite reach.

McKenna situated herself on the floor and began unwinding it for her. “Does it hurt all the time?” She chanced a look up.

Mei’s expression was bathed in gratitude. “Not all the time.”

It took a couple of moments, but McKenna removed the strip of cloth. She tried not to wince, but what she’d only glimpsed
one afternoon months ago, she saw now in excruciating detail.

The shape of Mei’s foot could best be described as bent, concave. There was a cleft, on the underside of each sole, between the ball of Mei’s foot and the heel, that was at least two inches deep. Her entire foot, measuring from heel to toe, couldn’t have been more than four inches in length. And from what McKenna could tell, every toe but the large one was missing on both feet. This was a barbaric custom. How could anyone do this to their child?

“You wonder why parents do this to daughters they love?”

Tears in her eyes, McKenna nodded. Mei read her too well.

“This custom is sign of wealth in China. I was four”—she held up that number of fingers—“when my mother and grandmother bind my feet for first time. My mother, her mother, and her mother before . . . all women in family have Lotus feet. All husbands want wives to have such feet. Girls who do not . . .” She shook her head. “They no grow up to marry. And if woman no marry, she disgrace to family, and parents are shamed.”

McKenna accepted what Mei was saying as truth in the Chinese culture, but she still couldn’t get that truth—and what she was seeing—to make any sense in her head. Not with such deformity before her. She rose slowly and retrieved a fresh towel and a bowl of water.

When she returned, Mei was shaking her head.

“You no need do this. Chin Li help me at—”

“I want to do this, Mei. Please,” McKenna whispered.

After a long moment, Mei gave a bow from her seated position, emotion glistening in her eyes.

McKenna returned the bow and then knelt. She removed the cloths from Mei’s other foot and washed both of Mei’s feet in the lukewarm water. “You did something similar for me the very first day I arrived in town. Do you remember?”

“I no forget. Ever.” Mei smiled. “You no want me to take kerchief.”

McKenna laughed softly. “But once you returned it, I was so grateful you had taken it.”

When she finished, she dried Mei’s feet and rewrapped them in the bandages. Then she slipped the tiny, exquisite slippers onto Mei’s feet and vowed never again to take for granted how easily she laced up her boots. Nor would she complain when her feet grew sore from too much walking.

With care, she broached Mei’s original statement. “If you have a daughter, Mei . . . will you be happy, or sad, about Chin Li’s decision?”

“Both, I think. Happy that daughter will run and play like Emma, and no have pain. But part of heart will also be sad. She will be . . . different from her mother and all women in her family before.” Mei rose from the stool and smoothed her tunic. “But mostly, I am happy. And grateful to Chin Li.”

She reached out to hug McKenna but their bellies met first, which caused them to giggle.

Even warmer now than before, McKenna gestured toward the door. “I won’t be long.”

“You take time. Dinner almost ready.” Grinning, Mei made a shooing gesture. “I bake bread now and no need you to stay and help.”

Not hurt in the least, McKenna walked on outside and eased herself down on the top porch step. She breathed the cool, dry air of spring and mentally counted the days until July when Dr. Foster said the baby was due. She hoped for a boy, but Wyatt kept saying it didn’t matter to him. He hadn’t said it aloud, but she knew he only wanted her and the baby to be well.

She glanced at the saddle on the far end of the porch. Dr. Foster was joining them later today, and she looked forward to giving it to him. A long-overdue token of her appreciation, the saddle was custom-made with bags to match that would hold Dr. Foster’s bottles and supplies. She’d even etched the medical insignia into the leather, along with his name.

Her gaze traveled the homestead. It was still hard to believe that all of this was theirs. The surveyor’s report that came back the day of Robert’s sentencing revealed silver lead deposits dotting Vince and Janie’s property down by the creek. It certainly wasn’t a gold strike, but it was enough to buy a few head of cattle and to breathe renewed life into the dream that Vince and Janie had for this ranch and for the life they’d wanted to give their daughter. The barn boasted a fresh coat of red paint and the porch swing Wyatt had made for their evenings out here together creaked softly behind her, pushed to and fro by the breeze. But where she sat now offered a better view of the road.

Chin Li and Emma were slowly making their way back to the cabin. Emma waved her little arms wide, and McKenna waved in return—then stilled. Her gaze slowly trailed to where the road switched back on itself, and her throat closed tight.

Two riders, one taking the lead, one following behind, made their way toward her.

Gripping the porch rail, she stood, the tether on her heart tugging hard.

A short distance away, Robert reined in. For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether he was going to turn and ride away, or keep moving forward. But she stayed exactly where she was. Wyatt had told her it was important to let Robert take his own first steps in the coming days. And she agreed. But oh, it was hard to keep her feet planted where she stood when her mother’s heart wanted to ease his journey home.

Robert continued on and dismounted beside Wyatt near the barn. Even yards away, his discomfort was palpable. Wyatt laid a hand to his shoulder and whispered something to him. Robert nodded, and stood staring at his boots for the longest time. Then slowly, he lifted his eyes, smiled in McKenna’s direction, and took his first step toward home.

He stopped a short distance away from her, head bowed. He removed his hat and stood twisting it in his hands, until finally he peered up. “Hello, Kenny.”

He looked different. Even his voice sounded different— deeper, more . . . centered. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. “Hello, Robert. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you again too.” He smiled an all but forgotten smile. “I’ve missed you, Kenny. More than you know.” He stared at the hat in his hands for the longest time before looking at her again. “I’m sorry . . . for what I did. I was wrong, in lots of ways. And I want to do better now. I want to make things right.” His jaw firmed, but in a noble way. “You have my pledge that I’ll work to make things right.”

Catching Wyatt’s subtle nod behind Robert, McKenna closed the distance to her brother and put her arms around his neck. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done this— held her younger brother close—and she relished it, not wanting to take this for granted either.

Once they drew apart, she patted his chest. “Supper’s about ready, and I’ve got all your favorites.”

Robert slipped his hat back on. “Sounds good,” he said. “I think I’ll go wash up then.” He started to walk away, then stopped and surveyed the surroundings. “The place looks real fine, Kenny. Real fine. Wyatt says things have really turned around.”

“Yes,” she whispered, so much meaning in one word. “They certainly have.”

She watched him cut through the barn to the well, and she felt Wyatt’s arms come around her from behind.

“You were perfect, McKenna.”

She leaned into him, mindful of Emma running straight for them. Chin Li nodded their way then averted his gaze. But McKenna saw the smile on his mouth.

“Papa!”

Wyatt caught Emma up and gave her a big hug. “How are you, little one?”

Emma’s eyes sparkled. “Did you bring me anything?”

“Now what makes you think I’d bring you anything?”

She stuck her hand into his outer vest pocket, which earned a raised brow from Wyatt. So she immediately went for
his inner pocket, and her grin widened.

“Another doll!” she squealed.

Wyatt tugged the red-yarned head of the rag doll. “I figured Clara needed a sister, since you’ll be getting either a new brother or sister yourself real soon.”

Emma hugged his neck tight. “Thank you, Papa.”

“Now,” he said, kissing her forehead and setting her down. “We’re going to have Uncle Robert’s welcome home dinner in just a minute, but first, I’d like for you to run on inside and show Chin Li and Mei your new doll while I kiss your mama good and proper. Think you can do that for me?”

Grinning, Emma nodded and set off.