Joline's Redemption (19 page)

Mr. McGrady pulled an envelope from his inside coat pocket. “Here's a letter from our pastor, Reverend Joseph Gilmore, explaining to you what kind of people we are. He's known us both since we were little'uns.”

“Please, Pastor.” Mrs. McGrady reached out and touched Jack's arm. “Could you at least tell me if the boys are spoken for? Did we waste our time and get our hopes up for nothing?”

Jack smiled. “You're the first to ask for them.”

She gasped and turned to her husband. “Did you hear that? I just knew it was meant to be. Are they already in bed? Could we see them? I know it's late, but we only arrived in town a short while ago. We've been traveling most of the day—even through that storm.”

“Emily …” Her husband shook his head.

It was late, but Jack didn't have the heart to turn the couple away. “We just sat down to eat some cake before the boys head to bed. Why don't you join us for a short while and meet them, but let's not mention why you're here. If things go well, we'll tell them tomorrow.”

Mrs. McGrady quietly clapped her hands and bounced on her toes.

Mr. McGrady eyed him. “You're sure we won't be imposing?”

“I wouldn't have asked if you were. Come in. Afterward, I'll point you to the boardinghouse since we're filled up here.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Pastor. I've been so worried that we'd be too late.”

Just in the nick of time was more like it. Jack led them into the kitchen, and both boys' eyes widened.

“This here is Mr. and Mrs. McGrady, and they just arrived in town. I offered them some cake for refreshment. You two don't mind, do you?”

He read the caution in Nick's eye, but the boy shook his head.

“Have a seat, and I'll dish up the cake. There's coffee, but it's just a little warm, or we have milk.”

“Milk—or water—is fine for both of us,” Mr. McGrady said. “Thank you.”

Jack turned toward the cake and cut two more slices, his hopes higher than they'd been in a long while. It seemed God had seen fit to answer his prayer.

Jo kissed Jamie's cheek and handed him to Sarah. He puckered up, making her heart ache, and he broke out into a loud wail as Sarah carried him up the stairs. She wished she could stay and comfort her son, but she had a job to do, and she knew, too, that once Sarah distracted him with a toy or something else, Jamie would be fine. She put her straw hat on and tied the ribbons as Sarah reached the top and disappeared from view. Grandpa ambled out of the kitchen, holding his coffee cup and looking a bit pale after suffering with a malaria attack for several days.

“Don't you have time for a of cup coffee or a little breakfast?”

Jo shook her head. “I'm running late and need to get to town.”

Lara jogged out of the kitchen with a cloth napkin and held it out to her. “There's a biscuit with an egg in here. At least take this and eat it on your way to town.”

Jo accepted the gift. “Thanks.” She turned to leave.

“Be careful.” Grandpa nodded at her and returned to the kitchen, not waiting for a response.

Jo opened the door.

“Jo, wait.” Lara touched her shoulder.

Closing her eyes, she held on to the door latch. “I need to go.”

“I know, but can't you find a time that we can talk? I missed you while you were gone and worried about you every day. I'd like to hear where you've been and what you were doing all this time. How you got by without Mark.”

Jo stiffened. The last thing her kindhearted sister needed to know was Jo's recent past. It would devastate her. But she had to say something to pacify her. “Um … sure. Soon.”

She rushed outside, grateful that Gabe had saddled a horse for her as he'd promised when she'd first come downstairs to feed Jamie his breakfast.

The door opened as she reached the ground, and she sighed. Was Lara going to fuss at her again?

“You forgot your cloak.”

Jo glanced down. She'd been so focused on getting out the door and avoiding Lara that she'd forgotten her outer garment. Now she noticed the chilliness of the morning. She hurried up the stairs and took the cloak from her sister. “Thank you.”

“Be careful.” Lara smiled. “I love you, sis.”

Jo flashed her a tighter smile than her sister deserved for her kindness. She donned her cloak and stuffed the napkin and biscuit into her pocket. She untied the horse and led him beside the stairs; then she stepped onto the lowest one, helping her to mount. Giving Lara a brief wave, she nudged the horse to a trot and then into a gallop.

The cool breeze chilled her, and she tugged her cloak around her and tucked the edge under her legs as best as she could with one hand.

As she rode for town, she thought of her talk with Lara. What could she tell her that would satisfy her? She couldn't admit that she'd lived at a brothel. Her sister was a good Christian woman in all ways. And it wasn't something Jo could voice, for it was far too embarrassing to admit. It shamed her. She was nothing like her pious sister. She was tainted—filthy. No decent woman would associate with her if they knew about her past. If not for Jamie, she'd still be in that dreadful place and might never have had the courage to escape. She shuddered at the horrid memories of smelly, demanding men.

At a big bend in the road, she slowed the horse to a trot. She passed section after section of land that had been won in the land rush. Most only had sod houses or ones made of stacked stones. None were as nice as Gabe's. The first time she saw him in Caldwell, Kansas, she thought he must have money. He wore fine clothes and was handsome, but at the time, she'd only been sixteen and thought him too old for her. Who would have thought Lara would end up marrying him?

She was happy for her sister, and glad Lara was free of the lout she first married. Jo shuddered as she remembered the times Tom had tried to charm her—and had even stolen a kiss. She'd slapped him, of course, but the fact that she had secretly enjoyed it had proved that she was a bad girl—far different from her sister.

Why couldn't she have been more like Lara?

The sun had risen over halfway in the sky by the time she reached town. People were milling around everywhere, tending to business or chatting. The streets were lined with horses, buggies, and buckboards. There was something about the busyness of town that she loved.

At Baron's barn, she dismounted, tended to her horse, and then washed her hands at the pump behind the store. She dried them on her cloak and hurried inside, eager to begin working. Three people were already shopping. Baron talked with a man in the corner by the tack. Two women stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the rolls of fabric. Jo quickly donned her apron and rushed over. “May I be of assistance?”

Baron must have heard her, because he glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Her stomach flipped a somersault, and she pressed her hand to it, forcing herself not to react to the unwanted feelings of attraction.

For the next half hour, she busied herself helping the women pick out fabric, thread, ribbon, and lace for two evening dresses they were planning to make. Baron finished up with the man he sold a bridle to and was straightening the tack when the women left the store. Jo scurried back to the fabric area and tidied it as well.

“How was your ride this morning?”

“A bit chilly, but nice. The sun kept me warm enough.”

Baron crossed the store, his boots thudding on the wood floor. “And how is little Jamie today?”

“He's figuring out that I'm leaving after he eats breakfast, and he got a bit fussy today when Sarah took him upstairs.”

“I can see that bothers you.”

Jo shrugged. “Nothing to be done about it. I'm sure he's forgotten about me by now.”

Baron took hold of her shoulders and gazed down at her. “Don't say such a thing. A child could never forget his mother.”

Her mouth went dry at his nearness and the intensity of his dark blue gaze. But memories of her own parents, whom she barely remembered, overwhelmed her, and she turned back to the thread case. Everything was perfectly straight, but she rearranged several colors anyway. “I can't remember what my mother's face looked like.”

“What happened to her?” Baron's warm breath brushed her neck.

“Both she and my pa died in a fire when our house burned down.”

He returned his hands to her shoulders, gently tightening his grip, anchoring her to him. “I'm so sorry. How did you and your sister manage to escape?”

“We were away on an errand. And there are three of us. Lara and I have an older brother named Jack.”

“I didn't know about him.”

“We don't talk much about Jack. He rode out of our lives about a year after we went to live with our grandparents—and right after my grandma died. We haven't seen him since.”

“You've faced so much loss in your life. No wonder you're tough.”

She turned to face him. “You think I'm tough?”

“Maybe
tenacious
better illustrates what I mean. And you're a hard worker.”

She warmed under his compliment. She caught his gaze, holding it for a long moment. Her heartbeat stampeded. How could this gentle, considerate man be related to Mark? She suddenly realized she was still gawking at him and turned away, searching for some other task.

The doorbell dinged, and Jo started toward the woman, who glanced up at her and suddenly halted, halfway in.

“I remember you. Didn't your husband own this store?”

Jo wanted to run but held her ground and nodded. “Yes, ma'am, he did. My brother-in-law is now overseeing the operations of Hillborne's.”

Mrs. Scott's gaze shot to Baron and back to Jo. “I see.” She closed the door and looked around. “I was so delighted to see that the store had reopened. I wanted to come sooner, but a bout of rheumatism kept me close to my bed. So where's that handsome husband of yours?”

Jo ducked her head and shook it. “I'm sad to say he's gone.”

“Oh my heavens. I'm so sorry. But you're young enough to find another man.”

Jo looked up, stiffening as if a steel rod were running down her spine. “I don't need another man, Mrs. Scott. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by that. Perhaps it's best that I be on my way.”

She spun around and raced from the store before Jo could say a thing. Baron would probably be furious with her for chasing away a customer. She mentally prepared herself for a lashing, but from behind her came a chuckle. Jo turned to see Baron struggling to hold back his amusement.

“You thought that was funny? You do realize I just chased away a potential customer.”

“It was worth it to see her expression.”

“Even if she never comes back?” She turned to face him.

“I don't want her business if she's going to question you and make you uncomfortable. You don't owe anyone an explanation about your past.”

She stiffened but then realized that he was referring to his brother, not the bordello. “Thank you.”

“I mean it, Jo.”

The door opened again, and they both looked in that direction. A thin man with an odd hat slipped in and looked around. When his gaze found Baron, he moved toward him. “You Baron Hillborne?”

“Yes, I am.”

The man pulled something from his pocket. “You've got a telegram.”

Jo sucked in a breath. Telegrams generally brought bad news. Had something happened to one of Baron's parents or the family business?

He collected the paper and handed the man a coin. “Thank you.”

Jo could read the tension in his expression and the way he held his body stiff. The telegraph man closed the door and briskly walked past the store window.

The paper rattled as Baron opened it and scanned the brief missive. muscle in his jaw ticked, and he lifted a worried gaze to her.

She stepped forward and placed one hand on his arm. “What's wrong?”

She saw him swallow. Several emotions crossed his face; then he handed her the telegram.

H
EARD YOU REOPENED STORE.
A
M RETURNING TO
G
UTHRIE ON THE 14TH.
M
ARK.

N
o!” The paper fell from Jo's hand as she felt the blood drain from her face. She touched her fingertips to her forehead. “What am I going to do? I can't face him again. He can't know that I'm in town.” She reached for Baron's arm. “Please. You can't tell him.”

Baron laid his hand over Jo's. “You have my word. You must not come to the store again until I manage to get rid of him.”

“But I need the work.”

“You can work after he's gone. I know Mark. He's only coming back to taunt me.”

“Why would he do that?”

Baron's jaw tightened, and he turned toward the window, staring out. “Because he enjoys the fact that I'm tasked with cleaning up his messes. In a way, he thinks he's controlling me—if that makes sense. He thinks of me as my father's lackey. Mark believes that the reason I want to please Father is so that he'll leave his fortune to me, but that's not what motivates me. I'm a Christian, and as such, I believe that I should do my best no matter what the task is. It pains me to say it, but Mark has no idea how satisfying it feels to do a good job and serve others.”