At the close of the service on Sunday, Tyson stood to one side and watched as the others moved out of the pew: first his wife, followed by his mother-in-law, and finally Ned.
It was the boy’s presence that had surprised him this morning. How was it Diana had persuaded Ned to come to church with the family and when exactly had she bought him that suit?
He offered his elbow to Diana and smiled to himself, realizing how easily she could prevail upon him to do something he hadn’t considered doing before. Ned had obviously fallen under the spell of her charms as Tyson had.
When they reached the sidewalk, they were greeted by a familiar voice.
“Mr. Applegate. Mrs. Applegate. How good to see you again.”
Tyson met Kendall Michaels’ gaze and offered a tight smile. He had yet to forgive the newspaperman for his behavior at the judge’s dinner party.
“Are you a member of this congregation?” Kendall asked.
“Not yet.” Tyson glanced at Diana. “But my wife and mother-in-law are. And you?”
“Just visiting.”
Why? Are you following me? Tyson swallowed the question.
Kendall turned his gaze on Ned. “And who is this young man? Your son?” His eyes held excitement—no doubt hoping for a scandal to report.
“I ain’t his son,” Ned answered, scowling.
Tyson wanted to ignore the newspaperman’s question and hurry his family toward the carriage, but instinct told him doing so would be a mistake. The best way was to be honest without saying too much. A tricky balance to manage, but he would try. “Ned is a guest in our home.”
“And if you’ll excuse us,” Diana said, her tone deceptively polite, “we have promised our young guest a picnic lunch on this beautiful Lord’s Day. We must hurry or our cook will not be happy with our tardiness. Good day, Mr. Michaels.”
Tyson wanted to kiss her.
Kendall tipped his hat. “Good day, Mrs. Applegate. Mr. Applegate.”
“Excellent job,” Tyson whispered as they moved toward the carriage awaiting them at the curb on Seventh Street.
“He’s an insufferable man,” she replied in an equally soft voice. She stopped, looked up at Tyson. “We need to have a better answer about Ned before someone else asks the same question.”
She was right, of course. They did need a better answer. At the very least, they should make certain Ned was an orphan, as he claimed. What if he’d run away from home instead? It wouldn’t do Tyson’s campaign any good if it was discovered Ned’s parents were alive and searching for him.
“You’re right. We need a better answer.”
Her hand tightened on his arm. “I don’t want Ned to leave us.”
She doesn’t want him to leave us …
Us.
The small word felt huge in his heart.
“I’ll do everything I can to see that he stays, Diana. I promise.”
Her smile seemed brighter than the sun.
“Are you two coming?” Gloria asked from inside the carriage. “It’s terribly stuffy in here.”
“Yes, Mother.” Diana released her hold on Tyson’s arm. “We’re coming.”
The spot beside the Boise River was ideal for a picnic. Tall cottonwoods provided ample shade where Diana and Tyson spread blankets on the ground. The water rushing past them cooled the midday air.
“Don’t get too close to the river,” Diana called to Ned as he and Trouble explored the area.
Tyson must have sensed her concern, for he walked toward where the boy and dog played, keeping himself between them and the river.
Liz and her sister Joan, the Applegate maids, had accompanied the family to the river, and they busied themselves now, setting out the bill of fare. Mrs. Cuddy had prepared a veritable feast: cold roast chicken, sandwiches of potted rabbit, bewitched veal, cold baked ham, egg salad, buttered rolls, hard-boiled eggs, pickles, orange marmalade, sugared strawberries, almond cake, and coconut jumbles. Lemonade and tea were their beverage choices, both of them iced.
Diana’s mother marveled aloud over the abundance of food. “I simply cannot help adding up the cost in my head.” She gave a small shrug. “Too many years of minding every penny, I suppose.”
Diana leaned over and touched her mother’s arm. “You won’t have to count pennies ever again.”
“Spoken with the assurance of the young.” Gloria stared toward the river, her expression wistful. “Your father provided well for us for many years. He never imagined a national financial crisis could wipe out our savings. He was a careful man with money. He believed in saving for a rainy day and did so religiously, but it all vanished in an instant.” Her gaze returned to Diana. “The rain falls on the just and unjust, my dear. We cannot know what tomorrow will bring.”
Diana had no reply.
“Mrs. Applegate,” Joan said into the ensuing silence. “We are ready to serve the meal.”
Grateful for the interruption, Diana looked toward the river. “Tyson. Ned. It’s time to eat.”
In short order, man, boy, and dog reached the picnic area. When commanded by Ned, Trouble lay in the grass a few feet away from one of the blankets, but his dark eyes remained locked on the platters and bowls.
Tyson chuckled. “That is one hopeful dog.”
“He can have something, can’t he?” Ned asked.
“Yes, when we’re done he can have some of the scraps. But you’ll need to make sure he doesn’t get any chicken bones or anything else he can choke on.”
“I know that.”
“Good.” Tyson sank onto the blanket next to Diana. “Let’s thank God for this food Mrs. Cuddy prepared.”
His prayer was brief, though earnest, and afterward they filled their plates. The family dined while seated on the blankets, and the maids and coachman had their own picnic not far removed.
Diana took a bite of chicken and thought, I’m going to wish my corset wasn’t laced so tight.
“Ned,” Tyson said, “do you remember who took you to the orphanage after your mother died?”
The question, so unexpected, caused Diana to stop chewing.
“I d’know.” The boy shrugged, failing to display his usual testiness when asked personal questions. “Maybe.”
“Do you suppose you could show me where you lived back then?”
Now the familiar scowl furrowed Ned’s forehead. “Why?”
Dread trickled down Diana’s spine. What if Tyson’s questions made the boy want to leave, as he’d threatened to do ever since the first day?
“That man outside of church this morning,” Tyson continued, his tone serious, his gaze unwavering on Ned. “He’s a reporter for the newspaper. He likes to ask questions and look into the affairs of people in the community. In fact, I believe he’s the kind of man who likes to make trouble for others whenever possible.”
Diana’s gaze moved back and forth between Tyson and Ned. Stop. Don’t say anymore. He’s too young to understand.
“You mean he’d like to make trouble for you and Miss Diana,” Ned said.
Obviously she was wrong. He wasn’t too young.
“Yes,” Tyson answered.
“Because of me.”
“Yes. If he can.”
“So you want to know more about me before he does.”
Tyson set aside his plate and leaned toward the boy. “Ned, Mrs. Applegate and I want you to continue to live with us. We hope that’s what you want too. But we cannot do so without going through proper channels. The more we know about you, the more likely it will be you can remain in our home and Mr. Michaels or his like can’t use it to cause trouble for any of us.”
Varying emotions flitted across the boy’s face—uncertainty, distrust, hope, fear, relief.
“Please help us,” Diana said.
Ned looked at her. “How long? How long do you want me to stay with you?”
A memory flashed in her head. A little girl on a stage, afraid, everything and everyone strangers to her, all that was familiar gone, feeling cut adrift, feeling unwanted. Tears welled but she fought them back.
“For as long as you want to stay,” she answered at last. Forever, her heart added.
To love a woman, Tyson was discovering, meant a man became more sensitive to her emotions. He felt Diana’s fear in his own heart, the fear that Ned might leave them. He was determined not to let it happen. If keeping the boy in their home was required to make her happy, then he would move heaven and earth to make certain Ned stayed.
But before Tyson could ask another question in an effort to bring about the right result, the boy spoke up.
“It was Mrs. Kennedy who took me to the orphanage after Ma died.”
“Mrs. Kennedy? Was she a friend of your mother’s?”
Ned shrugged. “I guess. She lived downstairs from us.”
“Do you remember where that was?”
“Yeah. I remember. I wasn’t a baby.”
“Will you show me sometime?”
“I suppose.”
Tyson decided this was a good time to let the matter drop. “Thanks.”
He picked up his plate and resumed eating. Ned watched him awhile before doing the same.
“Tyson.”
Thank you, she mouthed.
Something loosened inside Tyson, a fear that it would take weeks for things to be right between them again after the fiasco of Friday night. He’d apologized but he’d still been afraid. He’d hoped but he hadn’t been confident.
Lord, help me find out more about Ned. It’s important to Diana that he stay, so it’s important to me too.
Like a breeze through the leaves of a tree, words whispered in Tyson’s heart: And because it’s important to you, My son, it does not escape My notice.
He felt God’s pleasure wash over him. Not because he did everything right. Not because he’d made no mistakes. But because he listened for the Shepherd’s voice. Because he yearned to please the Father by his actions—including by loving his wife.
An easy thing to do, as it turned out.
Brook poured whiskey into two glasses. “And who did they say the boy is?” he asked as he handed one of them to Kendall Michaels.
“Applegate called him Ned. Said he was a guest. That’s all I know.”
“Interesting.”
Tyson Applegate had no siblings, and Diana had lost track of her own brother and sister while still a child. The boy couldn’t be a relative to either of them. Unless … unless he was Tyson’s by-blow. The possibility was delightful, to say the least.
“You should look into it further, Kendall.” Brook settled into his favorite chair. “How old do you suppose him to be?”
“Not sure. Nine, maybe ten. Could be another year either way.”
Nine or ten? Too old to have been born after Tyson wed Diana. Too bad. That would have been better. Still, an illegitimate child, even one conceived before Tyson took a wife, wouldn’t do a political candidate any favors. So, if the boy was his son, where was it Tyson had sown his wild oats? While at college? Or in one of the mining towns up north?
As if reading his mind, Kendall said, “Kid told me straight out he isn’t Applegate’s son. Made him kind of mad when I suggested it.”
“Perhaps the boy doesn’t know the truth. There must be some good reason he’s staying with them. People of good society don’t take in a child for no reason. I want to know who he is and why he’s with the Applegates.”
“I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Be quick about it. Time is running out.”
Panic roiled in his gut. If he didn’t find some way to get his hands on money—lots of money—he would be ruined. This boy could be the answer. If he was Tyson’s son out of wedlock, it could be worth a small fortune to keep the story quiet. And even if it wasn’t true, it might be worth just as much.
He would get his pound of flesh from Tyson one way or another. By heaven, he would!
Their picnic finished, Ned and Trouble went back to exploring the terrain while the adults—stomachs full and feeling sleepy—reclined on the blankets. Still, Diana kept a vigilant eye on the boy.
“You were about the same age as he was, weren’t you?” Tyson asked. “When you lost your family.”
She nodded. “I was six when Mum died.”
“You never talk about them.”
“No, I don’t. I suppose because I was given a new mother and father who loved me and provided well for me. It seemed ungrateful somehow. And I was so young. I can’t even recall their faces anymore. I think sometimes I can, but then—” She sat up. “In those first months after I arrived in Montana, I dreamed about Hugh coming to fetch me and take me home. I wasn’t unhappy with the Fishers, but I missed Hugh and Felicia so much. And our mum.”
“What was your last name? I don’t think I’ve ever asked that.”
You never cared enough to ask. She pushed the thought away. “Brennan. Diana Brennan. The youngest child of Sweeney and Elethea Brennan of Chicago, Illinois.”
Tyson was silent for a spell, before saying, “Maybe that’s why God brought Ned to our house. Because you can understand him in a way no one else could.”
Diana felt a flush of pleasure at his words.
“He’s lucky to have found you, Diana … and so am I.”
February 1897
Diana put an arm around her mother’s shoulders and together they walked away from the gravesite. Hard-packed snow covered the pathway between grave and carriage, and the two women moved slowly along the slick surface.
What are we to do now?
In the days after her father fell ill, Diana had been forced to acquaint herself with the family finances. Circumstances were much worse than she’d anticipated. After paying for the funeral, she and her mother would be left with little besides the small stipend she received because of Nora Applegate’s will. How could two women manage on that sum alone?
She thought of Tyson—traveling the globe, living in opulence, sparing never a thought for her—and for the first time, she hated him.