Becky never said a word, not the entire trip back to the ranch. Jude sat next to her, one arm around her, as Mick drove the wagon home.
Finally, after Mick and the rest headed back inside, Jude turned to her. “Becky? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you I have feelings for Justice Wharton’s son? After what happened? I’d never do that. Not to you, not to my sisters.” But the blue eyes the girl turned on Jude told the full story.
She was so young. There was no way these feelings were real for her. They just couldn’t be. Then again, who was Jude to say what love really was for anyone other than herself? Becky always had been mature for her age, and had always known her own mind. “I would have listened.”
Would she have? When it had first happened, the name Wharton had been all it had taken to send Jude in a rage—or a fit of absolute terror. To know one of her nieces had feelings for a Wharton? Well, she didn’t know what she would have thought, felt.
Becky just nodded. “What does it matter, now, anyway? Everything is ruined.”
“I don’t know. But feelings should always matter. Never be discounted.” That was true for Becky, too, Jude guessed. Maybe she was not quite fifteen, but Becky was still having some awfully powerful feelings. It was written all over the face that Jude liked to think looked a great deal like Becky’s father.
Like Jude herself, too. “Tell me about him. I just remember him as that skinny boy whose britches fell down at the church picnic four years ago.”
“I remember.” Becky sent her a poignant grin. “I gave him a button off my dress from the hem. I had a needle in my bag. I told him how to sew it up. I wasn’t about to do it for him. Not on his britches. He didn’t like a little girl helping.”
“They never do.”
“We...sat beside each other at the school. He’s Janie’s age. But we were doing the same work. Not because he’s not smart or anything like that. It’s just that his daddy wouldn’t let him come to school as often as he wanted. So he was behind. He’s really good at working the ranch. Probably could run one of his own someday. At least, that’s what he wants to do. Dreams about. It would be a small one at first. With a house he wants to build with his own two hands. He just wants something of his own. Something of his. Not something his daddy made.”
And she heard the longing in the girl’s voice. The longing to be with the boy. To build that dream together. Oh, Becky.
Damn Justice Wharton for hurting her family in so many ways. He’d robbed Becky of the sweet flush of youthful love, too.
And his own son.
“I can understand that.”
“He loves to read books, Aunt Jude. And he wants to prove himself, I think. Prove he’s not like his daddy and the rest. But everything his daddy did...it ruined everything. For all of us. But especially him. He sent me a letter. Right before we left Louisiana. His daddy was keeping him from school. Making him do extra chores to make up for his brother’s loss. All the hands hate it out there, but Alex can’t do anything about it, and none of them can afford to leave, either. I just...what’s he doing here? If his daddy finds him, he’ll beat him again. Worse than before.”
“Again?”
“Like he’s done before. He says...Alex told me that his daddy blames him for killing his momma when Alex was born. Said if it wasn’t for him, she’d still be here. So whenever he gets mad, he goes after Alex and just beats him. That’s another reason he’d miss school. His dad wouldn’t let him go with all the bruises. I’m glad he got away from him, but if he’s found here—his father and brothers will probably kill him! I don’t know what to do. I’ve loved him since I was twelve. He’s loved me, too. We...I’ve missed him so much. And I want to help him, but I can’t!”
She threw herself into Jude’s arms, sobbing.
Jude just held her and rocked and whispered empty reassurances until Jacob came out to see what was wrong with his daughter.
Poor girl. She bawled like her heart was breaking.
Jude knew it was.