Chapter 23

“He’s sick, Mom,” Carolyn said.

Hungover, more likely, Sierra thought, but she didn’t say it aloud. Her own head was aching from lack of sleep.

“He didn’t answer the doorbell, so I let myself in,” Carolyn reported. “He’s still in bed, Mom. Daddy’s never in bed this late.”

Clanton collaborated. “Couldn’t you go check on him?”

“He was up late babysitting last night, remember? He just needs to sleep in.”

“You’re up,” Clanton said.

“Couldn’t you go see if he’s all right, Mom?” Carolyn pleaded, worried.

“And do what?”

“Call a doctor or something,” Clanton chimed in.

She’d like to something all right, but after last night, she was afraid to get within twenty feet of him.

“Please,” Carolyn said.

She looked between her two children and realized if she didn’t do something, they’d think she was a coldhearted, uncaring hypocrite of a Christian. Weren’t you supposed to love your enemy? “I’ll take him some chicken soup,” she said and took a Tupperware container out of the refrigerator. Frances had given her a batch, swearing it could cure just about anything.

Maybe she should drink some and pray to be cured of Alejandro Luís Madrid.

Clanton gave her the key to Alex’s condo. Her heart was in her throat as she unlocked the door and went inside. It was exactly the same layout as hers, but the decor was vastly different. The living room had a big black leather couch and glass coffee table. Modern lamps stood on each side of the room. The wall was solid with electronic equipment: a big-screen television, video player, radio, CD player, game systems, and a quartet of small, but undoubtedly powerful, mounted speakers. The kitchen was spartan, except for the coffeemaker near the sink and the rats in their cage on the end of the breakfast bar. There wasn’t much in Alex’s cabinets, and only a few pots and pans in the cupboards below. The stove and microwave were both so clean, Sierra knew Alex had never used them. Opening the Tupperware container of soup, she poured a portion of the contents into a big mug, added a little water, and put it in the microwave. Curious, she looked under the sink. The garbage bucket below was full of empty Mexican take-out food containers.

I am not going to feel sorry for him!

She went down the hall to the master bedroom and found Alex sprawled on his back, only partially covered by the vibrant Aztec-design comforter. All she saw was muscle, bronze skin, and dark hair. Heart flip-flopping, she looked away and spotted the pullover shirt he’d worn the night before. It was inside out on the floor. Nearby were his Levi’s, also inside out, the belt still in the loops. His shoes were on the far side of the room, two dents in the wall above them.

Setting the mug of hot soup down on his side table, she picked up an empty pint of whiskey. In all the years she’d known Alex, she’d never seen him have more than one drink of anything intoxicating. He liked to be in control. She went into the bathroom and tossed the bottle into the trash basket.

When she came back out, she picked up his shirt and pulled it right side out, folded it, and put it on his chair. She did the same with his pants, removing the belt and curling it on the top of his dresser.

Steeling herself, she turned and looked at him. Her stomach tightened as she came over to the bed and looked down at him. He was so beautiful, so perfectly made. He was wearing the gold crucifix his mother had given him. Her heart squeezed tight with pity and tenderness. Frowning slightly, she noticed he’d added something to the gold chain, something she’d returned to him with the divorce papers he’d wanted her to sign.

Why was he wearing her wedding ring around his neck?

“Alex?”

He groaned. Shifting his body, he muttered something in Spanish and opened his bloodshot eyes. He stared up at her as though he couldn’t believe she was really there.

“The children think you’re dying,” she said dryly, crushing the urge to brush the dark hair back from his forehead.

Wincing, he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I feel like it,” he said in a raspy voice. He looked at her again.

She avoided the intensity she saw in his eyes. “I brought you some chicken soup,” she said, nodding toward his side table as she moved away from his bed.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you last night, Sierra. I swear—”

“I know. Let’s just forget about it.” He didn’t need to do anything to hurt her. She hurt every time she looked at him. It came with loving someone, even after they’d betrayed you.

As she headed for the door, Alex shoved the comforter back. “Don’t go.” He groaned in pain as he sat up. Holding his head in his hands, he muttered softly in Spanish. “I’ve got to talk to you. Just give me a few minutes to take a shower.”

“We can talk another time.” She smiled faintly. “When you’re feeling better.”

Dropping his hands, he looked at her bleakly. “I’m not going to feel better, not until I talk things out with you.”

She had thought she was finished with crying, but tears sprang to her eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”

“Maybe you don’t,” he said, “but I’m asking you to listen anyway. Por favor.”

When he stood up, her stomach dropped. She’d forgotten he slept in his briefs. She’d forgotten a lot of things that came back with a rush. “All right.” She would have agreed to anything at that moment just to get out of the bedroom and away from him and the feelings he could still arouse in her without even trying.

“Wait here.”

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.”

She searched his cupboards until she found coffee. Her hands were shaking as she made it. She expected to have more time, but he came out a few minutes later, wearing sweats and raking his hand back through his wet hair. He looked handsome even with a hangover. Looking at him, she felt depressed. She was never going to get over him. Never.

“Gracias,” he said when she slid a mug of hot coffee across the breakfast bar to him. She had to have something between them, something to fill his hands, something to fill hers. He took a sip. She had the feeling he was bracing himself. He finished the whole cup of coffee before he looked at her. “You’re still my wife.”

She felt the blood drain out of her face as she stared into his dark eyes. Panic set in. “No, I’m not. I did what you asked. I signed the papers. I gave them to you so your attorney could—”

“We’re still married, Sierra.”

“Maybe. For a few more months, until the divorce is final.”

“Nothing’s final, and it won’t be. There’s not going to be a divorce unless you file against me.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, confused. Hadn’t he told her over and over how much he wanted a divorce? “I did what you asked.”

“Yeah, but I changed my mind. I didn’t give the divorce papers to my attorney. I put them through the shredder at the office.”

“You what?” she said faintly.

“I shredded the divorce papers.”

“I heard you the first time, but why? Just so we’d have to go through all this misery again?”

“I don’t know why I did it at the time, but it turned out to be a good idea.”

“A—a good idea?” Did he think he could waltz back into her life and pick up where he left off? Or leave her dangling while he enjoyed himself? She wanted to throw the hot coffee at him. Instead, she slammed her cup on the counter and headed for the front door.

Alex caught hold of her halfway across the living room and swung her around. “I never loved Elizabeth the way I love you, Sierra. I knew it’d lead to disaster the first time I touched her.”

She hit him, a hard right hook square to his jaw, knocking him back two feet. Rage and hurt filled her. She lost control completely and attacked him again. Lunging at him, she pounded at his chest until she realized he was standing and taking it. With a sob, she gave him a hard shove over the back of his leather couch. Grabbing the back of her sweater, he dragged her along with him. They bounced, arms and legs tangling, and rolled onto the floor.

“You jerk!” She clambered to her feet, trying to get to the front door again. Alex was faster. He swung himself over the couch and planted himself in her path.

Spreading his hands, he presented himself. “Go ahead. Hit me again. I deserve it.”

“Get out of my way!”

“I’m not finished.”

“I am!”

“You’re still in love with me, Sierra.”

“I’ll get over it!”

“No, you won’t. And neither will I. Not ever.”

She drew in another ragged sob. “Do you think it makes me feel better to have you say you didn’t even love her? Do you think it helps to know you threw our marriage away for a fling?”

“It wasn’t a fling.”

“I don’t want to hear about it, Alex. Don’t give me the gruesome details. Just get out of my way!”

“Sierra—”

“Let me out!”

He caught hold of her shoulders. “My affair with Elizabeth had a lot to do with what you said. I wanted to feel I’d made it. Education hadn’t done it for me. Neither had money. Daughter of the American Revolution, you said. Remember? A trophy I could hold up to the world to show them Alejandro Luís Madrid was more than a wetback’s son!” His eyes were wet, tormented. “You knew me better than I knew myself, Sierra. Until Connecticut. I got a good look at myself there, and I wanted to vomit.”

“Don’t you dare call your father a wetback!”

His face softened. “Te amo.” He cupped her face. “Te amo muchísimo.”

She used her knee this time and caught him low and hard. Shoving him back, she made it to the door. “I’m not going to love you anymore, Alex,” she said, sobbing. “It hurts too much!”

Yanking open the front door, she fled.

My lying in time is drawing near.

The weight of the baby presses down. I have made what preparations I can and have explained to Beth what she must do to help me. She is younger than I was when Joshua was born, but she is a calm and willing girl and a great comfort to me. I hope she will be strong for whatever happens.

Lord, I am afraid for all my children. Please bring this baby into the world without taking me from it.

I know you sent Kavanaugh to me, Lord, and I thank You that he was obedient and arrived in time. I am sure I would have died otherwise. Joshua had gone off to find Koxoenis and ask if his wife could help me. I was praying for deliverance when someone opened the tule mat cover over our doorway. I have never been so glad to see anyone as I was to see Kavanaugh. He put his knife in the fire and then cut me. When that was done, he pulled me up so I was squatting. The baby came quick and easy after that. By the time Koxoenis, his wife, and Joshua arrived, my new daughter and I were asleep.

Kavanaugh told me today he will not leave again unless I tell him to go. He did not say more than that, but his meaning was clear. I think I have known he wanted me since the day he looked at me in the mercantile back in Independence.

I have named my baby daughter America Farr. Beth is taken with her and a great help to me. I am slow in mending and still weak. Kavanaugh is tender with me and firm in organizing the children. They do not mind. They have always held Kavanaugh in awe. Especially Joshua, though I sense tension between them now.

Kavanaugh is building us a cabin. He has set the boys to gathering stones for the foundation while he cuts timber. Joshua has not had much to say about anything lately. Something is eating at him and he will not say what. Hank and Matthew and Beth do all the talking.

The rains have been coming down steady for a week, but Kavanaugh and the boys continue to work. The rock foundation is complete and the sills set. Kavanaugh and Joshua work on notching the logs to build the walls.

This evening, we are all sitting around the pit fire. Hank, Matthew, and Beth are about their lessons while Kavanaugh whittles. He will teach the boys when they finish their reading and exercises. I am glad my boys do not fight learning like my brothers did. They must take after Mama. They can all read and write better than my father and brothers ever could, but they are far from Educated by Aunt Martha’s standards. I wish I had not been so foolish as to say I did not want to have a Bible in my possession.

Kavanaugh and Joshua have had a Falling Out. Joshua was swinging at Kavanaugh with all his might, but Kavanaugh blocked aside each blow. I kept screaming at them to stop, but Joshua would not listen. Kavanaugh unbalanced Joshua and took him down on the ground and held him there while trying to talk reason to him. Joshua was in no mood to be reasonable. When Kavanaugh released him, Joshua jumped up and spit on him. I could not believe he did such a thing and thought Kavanaugh would kill him sure. He did not have a chance to do anything because Joshua got on his horse and rode off. I ran after him and asked what had happened, but he would not say. He was crying and said he would not come back until Kavanaugh left.

Joshua has been gone for three days. My heart aches so I can not even eat. It did not take five minutes for me to find out what set Joshua on such a rampage. Kavanaugh wants to marry me. He asked Joshua for permission since he thought he was the firstborn son. Joshua said he saw the way of things and accused him of using him to get close to me.

Kavanaugh and I have had much time to talk about many things. I thought I would be with James all my life. I did not expect to lose him. Yet I know I can not manage on my own out here. A woman with small children can not build a homeplace and plant crops all by herself. And going back home to Illinois is impossible.

I know too that Joshua will not stay with us for long. His leaving us will have little to do with Kavanaugh and all to do with his own nature, though he may be contrary and stiff-necked enough to use Kavanaugh as an excuse. Each time Joshua goes away, he stays away a little longer. He has the same hunger to see the world that James had. I am afraid it is the kind of hunger that will drive him before the wind all his life unless he faces the Almighty and comes to himself. I grieve knowing James never did. It must be in the Farr and McMurray blood to contend with God and everything else. We either see the light or die looking for it.

I have peace now I never thought to have and wonder often why I fought so hard in receiving it. Coming to the light does not mean it is easy watching Joshua wandering in darkness. But telling him about You does not seem to get his Attention. I guess I can not expect words to do it. Mama and Aunt Martha talked to me plenty and I never saw the Truth in what they were saying.

I have learned a little more about Kavanaugh over the past days. His full name is Hamlet Bogan Kavanaugh. He is twenty-eight years old and can read and write. He was born in Boston to a blueblood father and an actress mother who thought naming him after a Shakespearean character might lend him some dignity. He did not think much of the name she gave him. Despite the fact his mother never married, she made sure his father paid for an Education. His father agreed to pay for tutors if she promised to leave him alone. She kept her part of the bargain. Kavanaugh is his mother’s name. She died when he was thirteen. He went to his father then, was given fifty dollars and told to leave Boston and never darken his father’s threshold again. He did and has never been back.

I told Kavanaugh he did not have to tell me such Personal Business, but he said I should know he was born on the wrong side of the sheets before we get married and start bearing children together. I became Flustered when he said that. He seems to have things all worked out in his mind about the way things will go between us. I asked him what he would have done had James not died of a Thursday. He said he would have waited however long it took. I asked him how many children he expects to have and he laughed and said one at a time, Mary Kathryn, and gave me such a look I felt it down to my toes.

He is gone now and I can breathe freely without the wild drumming of my heart to get in the way of my head. I sent him away so I could think things through. I was surprised he did not try to talk me out of my solitude. He is a strong man, stronger than James in many ways. But there is not the hardness in him I expected. James ran roughshod over my heart. There was a wildness in him that could never be tamed. It seems so odd now I think about it. James, the farmer, the wild one, and Kavanaugh, the mountain man, so settled inside himself. For all his buckskins and long hair, Kavanaugh is a gentleman who will not take advantage.

I do not want him here when Joshua comes home. My son and I have things to settle between us before I say yes to Kavanaugh.

You do not make things easy, do You, Lord?

Joshua is gone and I sit here wondering if I will ever see him again. My heart aches so, and yet I knew this would come. I have been fighting against it for two thousand miles and it is no use fighting it anymore. He thinks he is a man and he has made up his mind to go his own way. At least he no longer believes Kavanaugh used him to get close to me. Kavanaugh likes Joshua for himself and understands the restlessness in him. Maybe knowing that will bring him back again someday. He made no promises.

He said he is going to ride back to Sutter’s Fort and then head north to see what Oregon is like. After that, he does not know where he will go or what he will do.

I wept when he rode away. I kept thinking about those Israelites wandering forty years in the wilderness and dying within sight of the Promised Land because they were so Contentious. If only they had trusted the Lord, they would have lived out their lives in a land of milk and honey.

I hope it will not take Joshua as long as it took me to find his way through the wilderness to You.

I have been thinking about Aunt Martha so much lately. Sometimes I wonder if our thoughts touch one another across the miles. I wrote her a long letter yesterday, but I do not know when I will have the opportunity to send it.

I think Kavanaugh has changed his mind about marrying a widow with four children. He has been gone twenty-three days.

I have begun the plowing. Hank and Matthew are helping me while Beth minds America. Together we will get a small crop in.

It is Terrible Hard Work, but I think I can manage with the children. We have enough to eat. We have a cabin to keep us safe and dry. We have good land and seed to plant. And we have You, Jesus. Aunt Martha told me anything is possible with God. So I am asking You to help us in this Great Enterprise. We are stuck here, Lord. Help us make the best of it.