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After the newly married couple and the guests had departed, Thorn sat on the swing by the kitchen door. The last rays of light were fading and the night breeze had picked up. He had asked Rose to join him after she put Emma to bed. He grunted as he stretched his arm along the back of the swing. Some muscles still weren’t like they should be, and by tomorrow night, they would probably be screaming for rest.
But his time was getting short, and he didn’t like leaving Rose here with Drew moving to the rooms above the bakery. Not that he faulted the man one bit. If Rose were his wife in more than name only, he’d want to take her to the ranch and keep her for himself.
He couldn’t stop the sound that burst through his lips, not a laugh exactly, but not a grunt either. There was no way he would have Rose just for himself. There were four girls, his three and Emma, that would be around, at least for the next twenty years or so. Besides any children he and his Rose might have.
He pounded his fist on his good leg. He had to stop thinking like that. First he had to find Hank while keeping Rose safe. With Stanley’s visit, worry sat upon him even heavier.
The door opened and Rose stepped out. “Sorry it took so long but Emma’s finally asleep. I think all the people and excitement got to her today.”
Thorn stood and held out his hand. “Join me?”
The chains rattled and the wooden swing creaked as they sat. Thorn used the heel of his boot to set the swing to moving. “Rose, would you be agreeable to having a couple men around your place? Cousins—part of the eighty-one?”
“Why?”
“Protection.”
“You could stay and that would be protection enough.”
“Ah, Rose. I can’t stop freighting right now. Maybe soon, I hope. But not right now.”
“If you gave it up, you could start another business in Central City. The town’s growing so fast. And that way you could stay at home.”
How could he explain? Maybe he could give her something, a little bit for her to hold onto. But not the full story. With the way her grandfather and husband treated her, if she ever found out that his first wife was found hanging in his barn, he would lose the little trust he’d built. “Rose, there’s a man I have to find. That’s why I haul freight to the different mining areas. That way I can build trust and ask questions. I can’t settle down anywhere until I find him.”
“Is he an outlaw? Can’t someone else go after him?”
Mac shook his head. “No, nothing like that. He has answers I need.” Mac shook his head. “I’m probably the only man he’ll talk to, if only I could find him.”
A still, uncomfortable silence filled the air.
Mac wanted to ask Rose what she was thinking but knew better. He felt rather than saw Rose shift and turn toward him.
She looked boldly at his face. “What do you want out of this marriage?”
He wanted to love her, take her to his family ranch, live with her the rest of their days, but until he knew the role he’d played in Lizzie's death, he could say none of that.
After a moment, she asked, “Do you want to end our marriage?”
That was one answer he did have. “No.”
She stood. “You don’t want to end it, but you don’t know what you want out of it?”
His gut twisted, but he still couldn’t give her the answers she wanted.
“You have a good heart. I’ve seen you with Emma and the Nelson children, and even Drew. I know you aren’t cruel. When you discover the answers to my questions, please share them with me.” She stood and walked away. Each snap of her heels against the wooden porch shouted out her anger. She entered the house and closed the door with a hard shove.
***
Early the next morning, Thorn brought his wagon out of the barn. It had been a little over a week since he’d returned home bloody and beaten. But it was time to get back to his mission. And that meant leaving those he loved. If he couldn’t admit it to Rose, he could be honest and admit it to himself. Somehow he had to work harder, dig deeper. Somehow he had to find Hank. His life and his family, here and at the ranch, depended on it.
He waved to cousins, Kerr and Dougal, as they walked to the barn. Each carried a rifle. The nice thing about his family, and one thing he missed most—besides his girls—was the way they stood by each other, no questions asked.
“Be off with you, cousin. We’ll look after your lady and the wee babe.” Kerr grasped Mac forearm to forearm.
Mac returned the pressure. He liked the feeling better than a handshake. He greeted Dougal the same way.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“Ah, ’tis what family’s for.” Kerr looked around the back of the house. “Nice place.”
“Rose hasn’t exactly agreed to your staying here. If she kicks you out, stay nearby so you can keep an eye on her, especially if Snodgrass shows his face.” Mac glanced back at the house, hoping to see a glimpse of Rose.
“Be gone with you, so we can begin looking after the fair maiden.” Kerr swatted Mac on the shoulder and grinned.
Mac took one more look at the house. Did the curtain in the kitchen move? Was she watching him leave? He stared at it a moment, then shook his head, climbed up on the wagon, and snapped the reins, leaving the woman he loved behind.
***
Sarah had watched Thorn stop by the barn and talk to two young men, each carrying a rifle. She recognized them as two of the cowboys who’d been with Adair at the picnic.
She gripped the curtain. Why had she run away in anger last night? Mac wasn’t like Alfred or Grandfather, or even Stanley. Too many years of not trusting men, of hating them, had poisoned her. Now she wasn’t sure how to trust the man she loved. Somehow, she and Thorn had to come to an understanding about what they wanted, where they stood with each other, what kind of future they would have. But she didn’t know how.
Mac was long out of sight. She dropped the curtain. At least she could welcome the men he’d left to protect her. She set a pot of coffee to boil, then laid some bacon in a skillet. Judith didn’t come in this early, but Sarah could prepare breakfast for those two young men. Maybe they would tell her more than childhood stories about Thorn like they had at the picnic, now that he wasn’t here to glare at them.
Two hours after the men had eaten, Judith arrived. While Dougal took the Nelson children to the bakery, Sarah sat at the desk in the parlor, planning to deal with the household accounts.
Someone knocked at the front door, a slow steady knocking. A chill ran down Sarah’s spine. She moved to see who was calling so early in the day. It wasn’t Stanley. His knock was sharp, rapid, as if he were too busy to wait for someone to answer his summons.
She opened the door. Mr. Carlyle stood on the other side.
“Please come in.” She stepped aside and closed the door behind him. She had not seen the lawyer since she’d summoned him after Petey Waller made his demands about Emma. She took his hat and set it on the small table in the foyer, then directed him to the parlor.
Judith barreled down the hall.
Sarah turned to the woman. “Would you bring us some coffee, please?”
The housekeeper nodded and hurried to the kitchen.
Mr. Carlyle waited until Sarah seated herself on the sofa before he sat on a nearby chair. They exchanged a few pleasantries. He looked somber as he settled his leather case on his lap, then folded his hands on top of it.
Puffing slightly, Judith rushed back into the room carrying a tray with the coffee. She set it on the table in front of Sarah, then stood nearby.
“Thank you, Judith. Would you see if Kerr and Dougal need anything?” Sarah lifted the coffee pot and filled the cups. Judith moved slowly out of the room—slowly compared to the way she had rushed to get the coffee. Sarah waited to hear the tapping of her shoes on the wood floor, but never heard it.
Sarah shrugged. She wasn’t going to worry about a nosy cook. “If you had let me know, I could have come to your office and saved you this trip.”
“Considering the situation, I didn’t want to wait for that.” He pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper. “I have some sad and potentially disturbing news. Just this morning, I received word from my partner in Denver, Mr. Williams.” He paused for a moment.
She braced herself for whatever was to come, then waved him to continue.
He cleared his throat. “I hate to be this abrupt, but there is no other way. Mr. Williams asked me to inform you that your grandfather has passed away.”
Sarah’s hands trembled. She set her cup down and wrapped her arms around her middle. Grandfather’s death was a shock. She had thought he was so full of meanness he would live for many more years just to spite everyone. “What happened to him?”
“Apparently, he’d been declining, which was why, when the brother of one of the maids you retained to look after him asked to visit him, your grandfather agreed. The brother was a minister at a small congregation, one your family had not attended.”
“My family didn’t attend any congregation in Boston.” Hurt and anger built in Sarah’s chest as memories of the past flooded her mind. “Grandfather hated anything to do with religion.”
“Be that as it may, the young man visited with your grandfather on several occasions.” He looked down at one of the pieces of paper he held. “After one such visit, according to the minister, your grandfather repented of the cruel and sinful life he had lived and asked God to forgive him and accept him back into his fold.”
Sarah choked as she swallowed a sob. “Accept him back? Grandfather never was in the fold.”
“Your lawyer in Boston believed the same thing, so he did some checking for you. It seems your grandfather had been very active in the church while growing up, and had, in fact, married the daughter of a small village preacher. But as he started to rise in the financial world, he turned his back on his earlier faith, and money became his master.”
“I don’t believe this.” Sarah shook her head. “It’s impossible.”
“According to this report, the morning after that final visit with the minister, the maid found your grandfather dead. He was holding a small portrait of your grandmother. Your Boston lawyer passed on the information that your grandfather wished to be buried next to his wife. He carried out that request.” Mr. Carlyle drew another envelope from his pocket. “I have one more thing for you.” He held out the envelope. Her name was written in jagged letters, like a child’s early scrawl. Or a sick man’s trembling hand.
She didn’t want to take it. It was too much like taking poison into her hands, poison that could seep out of the envelope and soak into her skin.
“Please take it.” Mr. Carlyle moved it a little closer. “The minister said it couldn’t hurt you.”
She took the envelope and shoved it into her pocket, then stood. “Thank you for delivering the news. Will that be all?”
Sarah hoped so. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take before she fell apart. A few minutes. That’s all she needed. A few minutes to absorb the news about Grandfather, and then a few minutes holding Emma to remember all the goodness in the world.
Mr. Carlyle rose and cleared his throat. “Everything except a warning. Be extra careful of Stanley Snodgrass. He has nothing to lose now.”
“All support to Stanley stopped with Grandfather’s stroke. His death won’t change anything.”
“Mr. Snodgrass has been using your grandfather’s name and former reputation to try and gain support with businessmen in Boston.” The lawyer shook his head. “But with Mr. Hollingsworth’s passing, Mr. Snodgrass will have to rely completely on himself. And he has built a reputation here in Central City as a bit of an unsavory character, especially with some of his associates.”
After he left, she leaned against the wall. Why did Thorn have to leave this morning? She needed him. His arms. His words. Gripping her hands tightly together, she walked up the stairs, the letter rustling in her pocket.
***
With Kerr guarding the house and Sally taking care of Emma, Sarah had Dougal take her to the bakery, the unopened letter still in her pocket. As usual, Monday at the bakery was a very busy day. Linda and Nancy were restocking the shelves while Jack and Carl cleaned the tables and took the dirty cups and plates to the kitchen.
When Sarah entered the kitchen, Helen pulled herself from Drew’s arms and blushed, then shrugged. Drew laughed but let his wife go.
Helen rushed to Sarah’s side and gave her a hug. “And how are you doing today, sister of mine?”
“Did you know you have a streak of flour on your cheek and nose?” Sarah handed Helen a tea towel.
Helen wiped her face with the fabric. “Of course, I knew. Your brother just dusted me with it and proclaimed me the queen of the flour fairies.” She giggled. Drew turned red and shrugged.
Sarah tried to laugh. It sounded false.
Drew stepped closer to her. “What’s the matter, sis?”
“I don’t want to spoil your honeymoon.” Sarah gripped her hands together.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. We plan for our honeymoon to last us the rest of our lives, don’t we, husband of mine?” Helen flashed a smile at Drew, then tugged on Sarah’s hands. “I think it’s time for a break. Linda and Nancy can handle the bakery for a few minutes. Let’s grab us some coffee and go upstairs.”
Drew motioned for Linda and Nancy to help with the customers.
As she and Helen started for the stairs, Sarah looked over her shoulder. “Drew, please come too.”
Once they were upstairs, Helen led them to the small dining table, and they all sat. “Now tell us what put that look in your eye.”
“I hate to bring bad news the day after your wedding.” Sarah wrapped her fingers around the cup filled from the pot Drew had brought upstairs, welcoming the warmth to her cold hands.
“Unless you are going to tell me Drew already has a wife, we can handle it.”
Drew shook his head and rolled his eyes. He turned his attention to Sarah. “What’s wrong?”
Sarah took a deep breath, then let it out in big puff. “Mr. Carlyle came by this morning to tell me that Grandfather passed away. He was buried next to Grandmother.” She went on to tell them everything else the lawyer said, except the part about the envelope in her pocket.
“It’s over then.” Drew took a large swallow of his coffee. “I hope he’s at peace now.”
Sarah’s fingers gripped the cup so tightly she was afraid it would shatter in her hands. How could Drew talk like that? He had suffered at the hands of that man like she had. Grandfather had tried to take the joy and happiness from Drew’s life, had tried to make her sweet brother into a monster, like the great Andrew Elijah Hollingsworth.
Drew touched her hand. “Sis, you’ve got to let it go.”
Nancy stood by the door they had left open. “Drew, Mrs. Thompson from the hotel insists she must speak to you right now.”
“I’ll be right there.” He stood and touched Sarah’s shoulder. “If you don’t let it go, it’ll destroy you.”
He walked out the door.
Sarah felt like the walls were caving in on her. And Drew acted as if nothing had changed. “It doesn’t bother him, Grandfather’s dying.”
Helen leaned a little closer to Sarah. “No, it doesn’t. He’s made peace with his grandfather.”
“How? When? He never told me he had communicated with Grandfather.”
“He didn’t. He talked to God.” Helen smiled a glorious smile. “He turned it over, and now he’s at peace.”
Sarah’s heart felt leaden, cold and hard. She stretched out her hands, palms up, wishing the answers, the path to that peace, would fall into them. “How did he do that?”
“It wasn’t easy. Forgiveness doesn’t happen in an instant.”
“Or ever.”
Helen ran her finger over her scar, then took one of Sarah’s hands and held it with both of hers. “No, it’s not easy, and it’s not only for the person who did the wrong. Forgiveness is also for the person who forgives. Drew forgave, but his grandfather never knew. Drew’s free from the burden of anger and hatred.”
She took a deep breath. “After I was attacked, I had a hard time forgiving Jim Grayson. My heart was hard, becoming as ugly as my face.” Sarah started to say Helen never was ugly, even with the scar, but Helen held up her hand. “Let me finish. The anger in my heart kept sucking the forgiveness from my mind and kicking it away. Finally, I understood. Forgiveness is a commitment you make in your mind, you bind in your heart, and you live out in your life.”
Sarah tapped her fingers on the table as she tried to follow what Helen was saying. Some of what Helen said made sense, but she was still having a hard time seeing how she could forgive Grandfather and Alfred. But because Helen had forgiven her attacker, and through Helen, Drew had forgiven Grandfather, Sarah knew she needed to understand. “I’m not sure I can follow your example.”
“Once I committed—truly committed, to forgiving Jim Grayson, I had to forgive him every day in my mind until my heart took over the job. During that time, I hurt a lot and cried many tears. It wasn’t his heart I was trying to change. It was mine. And now I don’t carry that load of anger.”
Sarah pulled the envelope out of her pocket and handed it to Helen. “Mr. Carlyle brought this. I can’t open it. You do it.”
When Helen unsealed the envelope, a broken silver chain with a silver cross fell out. She looked up at Sarah.
Sarah studied the jewelry as it lay on the table between them. She hadn’t seen it in so many years. She couldn't believe Grandfather had kept it.
Helen nodded and withdrew a single sheet of paper. It didn’t take long to read. Like Sarah’s name on the envelope, the words on the letter were scrawled and there were only two of them written there. “Sorry. Forgive.”
Sarah balled her hands into fists. “I can’t do it. I can’t forgive him just like that. Like nothing ever happened.”
Helen rested a hand on Sarah’s fist. “If nothing ever happened, you wouldn’t need to forgive him. But please, think about it. Think of the joy of not carrying that anger in your heart. Think of how you can teach Emma what forgiveness is when she does something wrong or a wrong is done to her.”
Sarah grabbed the paper, the necklace, and the envelope. She shoved them in her pocket. “I’ll think about it.”
She stood and left, the two words pounding in her head. Sorry. Forgive.