Chapter Eleven

SHOCKING REVELATIONS

“WHY DO YOU WANT TO search Faith’s wagon?” Jacob asked.

Marshall and John stood in front of him. They didn’t look too happy to be there, but Jacob could easily see their look of determination.

“Mrs. Bates is missing an expensive brooch, and she suspects Faith took it,” Marshall explained.

“We don’t think Faith took it,” John added, “but we thought it best to clear up the matter and put the accusation to rest.”

“What makes Iris Bates think Faith would have it?”

“She says Faith had admired it. Faith is from a poor family, and the piece is missing.”

Jacob looked at Marshall in disbelief. “Faith is not poor now, and I’ve never met a more Christian woman than my wife. Besides, I got the impression that Iris had never even met Faith before today. She scolded me for not introducing them.”

“I’m sorry, Parker, but will you allow us to search to prove you’re right?”

“Go ahead. We have nothing to hide.”

Faith walked up from the river where she’d gone to help Lena carry up some water. He told her what had been said.

“I didn’t take anything,” she said.

“I know that, darling. They should be through soon and see that for themselves.”

After twenty minutes of looking in Faith’s old wagon, the men came out. Marshall held out a brooch.

“We found this wrapped in the first part of a canvas that held some roots. It fits the description.”

“I’ve never seen that before,” Faith said.

Jacob couldn’t believe it. Could Faith have stolen the jeweled pin? Would she? No! He knew better.

“We just cleaned out our wagons earlier today, and I unwrapped the canvas with Faith’s rose roots and asked about them. Nothing else was in it then.”

“I guess she could’ve moved it since then.” Did Marshall think Faith guilty?

“I didn’t, and I haven’t gone into this wagon since Jacob cleaned it. He put most of the tools in here. We haul the provisions I need for cooking, our clothes, and the bed in the newer wagon. I haven’t been in this one for a while until today.”

“I’m afraid it’s your word against Iris’, and we did find the brooch among your possessions,” Marshall said.

“But Iris didn’t see Faith take it,” Jacob said, “and anyone could have placed it in the wagon.”

“For what purpose?” John asked.

“Someone who doesn’t like Faith or me. Someone who wants to cause trouble.” He immediately thought of Rex. Jacob was glad he hadn’t come to accuse Faith, too, because he wouldn’t have been as nice. Did that mean he might be the guilty party?

“What’s the punishment for stealing,” Faith asked.

By being on the council, Jacob knew the answer. Ten lashes with a whip. Marshall had said with the open wagons, the punishment needed to be stiff to deter robbery. “Surely you two can’t be planning on whipping Faith. If you are, let me take the lashes for her. Mar my back, not hers.”

“No, Jacob.” Faith sounded frantic. “It’s me they’re accusing. I couldn’t stand to see you flogged.”

“As I can’t you.”

“The case would have to come before the council first,” Marshall said.

“Since no one saw the thief,” John added, “the evidence is rather flimsy.”

“I could agree with that,” Marshall said, “but let’s see what the council thinks.”

The council convened, and they talked with Faith and Jacob about the brooch again. They’d already heard what Iris had to say, and they asked Jacob to abstain from voting.

“We can’t make exceptions for anyone,” Rex stated. “What would it look like if we let the wife of a councilman get away with stealing?”

Despite Rex’s vote to the contrary, in the end, the council decided they didn’t have enough evidence to punish Faith. Jacob left wondering who would have put the missing brooch in Faith’s wagon. It would’ve had to have been done after they cleaned the wagons. Who would have had the opportunity and held something against her? Faith couldn’t think of anyone. Would Rex have gone to this extent, because he didn’t like Jacob? It would seem he’d have tried to frame Jacob and not Faith, and why would he have stolen Iris’ brooch to do so, when he could have used anything? Was Iris involved? Questions hovered but no answers.

 

Two things had kept the day from being idyllic—the accusation against Faith and Rudy’s constant crying. Still, when they were together working, Jacob felt at peace. He enjoyed everything he did with Faith, even working to clean out the wagons.

Faith and he tried everything they could think of to quieten Rudy, but still he squalled.

“Just put him in the wagon, so we can eat supper in a semblance of peace,” he finally told her. “We don’t seem to be helping him any.”

They could still hear him but not as clearly. Jacob couldn’t wait to take the baby to Annie, so he and Faith could go to bed. He smiled at the thought. He’d had a hard time keeping his mind on the task at hand today. His thoughts kept going back to Faith and last night.

To his amazement, the chicken and dumplings were better than anything Faith had cooked so far. She’d also baked a cherry cobbler out of some dried black cherries she had.

“You’re going to spoil me,” he told her.

“I hope so,” she smiled. “You deserve it.”

Did he please her as much as she pleased him? He doubted it, but he wanted to.

After they cleaned up the dishes, Faith held Rudy, and Jacob worked on repairing a harness for one of the mules. Finally, the time to take the baby to Annie arrived. They’d just returned, and Jacob started taking care of the fire while Faith undressed in the tent, when Carolyn came running up.

“Mama says for you to come right away. Something’s wrong with your baby.”

Faith had heard, and she came out still buttoning the last buttons on her dress. They took off running.

“I was just getting ready to feed him,” Annie said. “He suddenly gave out a loud cry and went limp. He died in my arms just that fast. I’m so sorry.”

Jacob stood like a stone. He couldn’t take in the news. He couldn’t take another death. Would everyone he loved be ripped from him? Not Faith! Oh, please, God, not Faith.

He felt Faith let go of his arm where she’d been gripping it for strength. Until she let go, he hadn’t realized she’d held it. He saw her move toward the baby with tears streaming down her face. He’d never doubted she loved Rudy, but, if he had, that doubt would have been dispelled now.

Still, he couldn’t move. His feet seemed rooted to the ground and as heavy as if they’d changed to cast iron.

“You go get the things you want him buried in,” he heard Annie tell Faith. “Lena and I will prepare his little body.”

Body! His son was really dead. Faith took his arm again and led him away. His feet wouldn’t go closer to the body, but they took him away.

She sat him in a chair, but he didn’t even have a fire to gaze into. He’d put it out. He knew Faith said some things to him, but he didn’t know what they were. He hoped she knew what to do. He didn’t. He looked up. The stars were still in the sky. The moon hung half full, or was it half empty?

God, why? Wasn’t losing my first wife enough? How much more do You expect from me? I’m not as strong as Job was. I can’t take any more.

Faith came out of the wagon with the new baby gown and cap she’d just made. “I’m going to take these to Annie. Do you want to stay here?”

“No, I’ll walk you.”

He didn’t want to be left alone to his depressing thoughts. He didn’t want to risk the chance something might happen to Faith. If he had a third loss right now, he thought he’d go mad.

He waited for her as she took the clothes to Annie. Lena had come over, and she walked back with Faith.

“I’m so sorry, Jacob,” the older woman said. “He must have been born with something bad wrong on the inside of him. At least he’s not hurting anymore.”

He nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Grief colored everything in tones of black and gray. It gnawed on his insides like a hungry wolf that chewed and shook its angry head as it ripped him apart.

He took Faith’s hand as they walked back. He still had her, and she would be a comfort to him.

They went into the tent and got ready for bed. Everything had changed now. He might need physical comfort, but he knew Faith didn’t. Tears streamed down her face again. He left his underclothing on and crawled in beside her.

He took her in his arms and held her. She broke into sobs and her body shook with them. He just rubbed her back and drew her close. He couldn’t tell her everything would be okay. He didn’t know that himself.

She cried herself to sleep in his arms. He lay there with his thoughts ricocheting in all directions.

What if Faith became pregnant after last night? What if having a baby killed her like it had Lucille? Why hadn’t he considered these things earlier? Did it take a second death to make him think beyond his own selfish desires?

He’d better not make love to Faith again, at least not until they got to Oregon and off this grinding trail. Would Lucille have lived if they’d not been on such a grueling trip?

God help him, but he didn’t wish her back now. He’d never wanted her to die, and he still grieved over her death, but if she and Faith stood before him today, he would choose Faith without hesitation. Was it a sin to feel that way?

Faith turned over in her sleep, and she no longer lay in his arms. He waited a few minutes to make sure she slept soundly, and he eased out of the pallet. He felt as if he’d been wound too tightly to lie still without Faith in his arms. He quietly put on his clothes. As he started out, his foot hit against something. He picked it up. It must be Lucille’s diary. He’d thrown it in the tent opening and forgotten about it. He carried it outside and lit the lantern.

There were two letters tucked into the diary. Both of them seemed to be from a man named Rudolph Nester.

He remembered Lucille asking him to promise not to read her things, but he’d never made that promise. He read the letter with the earliest date first. It had been written well before Lucille and his engagement.

My dearest Lucy,

I love how you call me “Rudy,” and I shall call you “Lucy.” In fact, my darling, I love everything about you.

I can’t tell you how much last night meant to me. You are the delight of my life, so beautiful and filled with passion. I can’t wait until you can meet me again. Please work that out to be soon. I count the minutes until you are in my arms again.

In your note, you asked if I wanted to marry you. You know that I do. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to call you my wife. Why, I would be the envy of every man who ever saw you. However, with my military obligations, we’ll have to wait until I get my commission and assignment. Hopefully, it will be to a post on the East Coast. I would loathe to go out West and fight the savages. That would be no place for someone of your culture and station either.

In the meantime, I look forward to every minute we can be together. Please contact me soon with the welcomed news that you will come to me again.

Yours forever,

Rudolph Nester

Well, Lucille hadn’t been a virgin when he married her. But what had happened to her Rudy? Was he the real father of Lucille’s baby? Surely she wouldn’t have named Jacob’s son after her former lover. He read the next letter. The date put it not long before he’d been found with Lucille in her bedroom.

Lucy,

I’m sorry to learn you think you might be in a family way. Regrettably, I won’t be able to marry you. It’s true I’ve been assigned to a post in Maryland, but my parents are insisting I marry a Colonel’s daughter, and it will be good for my career. If I refuse them, they will cut me off without a penny. I know you’ll understand. Marriage to me would be intolerable for both of us if we were without funds, and the money I get from the military now is a mere pittance of what we’d need.

The time we spent together was magical, and I’ll always remember them and you with fondness, but, unfortunately, such enchanted times were not meant to last. Therefore, it is with great regret that I must say “goodbye” to you. I am sure you can visit someone in Richmond that can help rid you of the unwanted baby, should you actually be with child. You know, missing one monthly is not enough to really tell. I wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Rudolph Nester

What a sorry excuse for a man! Was marrying Jacob the answer to Lucille’s dilemma? Had she entrapped him on purpose? He opened her diary to find out.

The truth cut worse than Jacob had imagined. Despite the ill way Rudolph had used her, she remained deeply in love with the man.

She wrote of how she couldn’t stand Jacob’s touch, and tears came to Jacob’s eyes as he read. Her father had picked Jacob as being naïve but honorable and easy to snare. Lucille had agreed because at least she’d liked his looks, and she played her part in the masquerade to the best of her ability.

She told how she’d had a hard time pretending to be enthralled with Jacob during their engagement. She tried to convince herself, since she couldn’t have Rudy, Jacob was as good as anyone. She didn’t want to be an old maid, and she did want a good father for her child.

If she told Jacob she was expecting too early, she’d been afraid he’d become suspicious, so she didn’t use the baby to get him to stay in St. Louis where doctors might tell him the truth about how far along she was. According to the diary, she’d posted another letter to Rudolph from St. Louis as soon as they’d arrived, but he never answered her.

She had never given Jacob a chance. Their marriage had been doomed from the very beginning. Lucille would have never tried to make the best of things, and Jacob didn’t think time would have helped things at all. In all likelihood, things would’ve only gotten worse.

The betrayal and deception felt worse than the grief ever had. Rudy hadn’t even been his son, but, of course, none of this had been the poor baby’s fault. He still felt a loss there. He would have treated him as a son regardless. This mess had not been of God, it had been of the devil. But, couldn’t God have protected him? Why him? God, I still don’t understand.

What a fool he’d been! Looking back, the village idiot would have known Lucille’s baby wasn’t his. Her father must have been right. Jacob had been naïve enough to be fooled. He’d just never considered such an upstanding family like the Statens would be so dishonest.

By the time he’d read the letters and the diary and sorted through some of his own thoughts and feelings, his pocket watch read three o’clock. The call to rise would come at four. It seemed useless to go back to bed. Besides, he did need to stay away from Faith. That would be the only way to be sure he didn’t get her with child. He knew he didn’t have the strength to be with her at night again and not make love to her. She affected him way too much. He had probably already fallen deeply in love with her, but he didn’t want to examine those feelings too closely. Better to save that for a later time.

Thoughts buzzed and stung like angry hornets. Some of them were wild and irrational. Were all women as conniving as Lucille? Could Faith really be trusted? Was she the thief who had stolen Iris’ pin? He really didn’t know her deepest thoughts and motivations. Why had she agreed to marry him? He really couldn’t see a single good reason from her point of view.

Everything that had happened overwhelmed him—first Lucille’s coldness, then her death, next Rudy died, and now Lucille’s deception and betrayal uncovered. He felt numb inside and hurting all at the same time. How could that be possible?

He stood and built up the fire with the intention of burning the diary and letters, but he decided to hide them in his trunk instead.

He got out pen and paper and wrote a letter to Lucille’s parents. He wanted to tell them he knew everything and rant at them for their part in this, but he knew that wouldn’t help anything. He wouldn’t feel right about doing it either. Losing their daughter and grandchild would hurt enough. In the end, he wrote a short note informing them their daughter had died in childbirth and the baby several weeks later.

He would mail the letter at Fort Laramie. The fort had no regular mail service, but someone headed east would pick up the mail and post it at the first post office, if he left the money to do so. He should write his parents, also.

Faith came out and joined him at four. “What are you doing?”

“I wrote a letter to Lucille’s parents and mine to let them know of hers and the baby’s deaths. I also told my parents about you.”

“I should probably write my cousin about his parents, too.”

Faith went about making breakfast, but Jacob could tell she grieved. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t want to get too close. He needed to pull back for a while. He should have followed his original plan and then their intimacy would have never happened yet.

“Just make some coffee for me. I don’t feel like eating,” he told her.

“I don’t either,” she said.

They held Rudy’s quick funeral right before the wagons pulled out. Jacob stood beside Faith without touching her. Tears ran silently down her cheeks, but she didn’t sob, although she did glance at him with questions in her watery eyes.

They started off, and for once he was glad they had separate wagons. He’d keep it that way for as long as hers would go.