Julia and Nancy exchanged looks.
If what Marjorie said was true, Rose had been right about Charlie all along. Her friend had said Charlie was more like Angus
than Julia realized. Still, he’d been her brother-in-law for many years. The only family she’d had left after Angus died.
“And you are generous to him to a fault,”
Rose’s voice whispered in her memory.
“Mrs. Humphrey,” Julia said, “I will be back in a little while to speak to you.”
She didn’t wait for a response but turned, hurried out of the mercantile, and walked toward the sheriff’s office. There was a group of men standing on the boardwalk not far from the jail’s entrance, talking and speculating. Probably as they’d done when Sheriff Noonan had questioned Hugh on Sunday. When they saw her, they parted to let her pass.
She opened the door, half expecting to see Charlie sitting before the sheriff’s desk, preparing to be sent home. But he wasn’t there. He was in one of the cells, sitting on a cot, elbows braced on knees, holding his head in his hands.
Lance Noonan rose from his desk chair. “Mrs. Grace.”
Charlie looked up.
“I was going to ride out to see you,” the sheriff continued.
“I was at the mercantile and heard about the arrest.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He opened the drawer and withdrew something. “I believe this is yours.” He held up his hand. Clasped between thumb and index finger was Angus’s mother’s missing ring.
“Where did you find it?” But she knew the answer before he could speak it.
“Mr. Prescott had it.”
Julia turned and walked to the cell.
Charlie glowered at her as he stood.
“You
broke into my house and stole my money?
You
took the ring?”
He didn’t answer.
“I know you wanted Sage-hen, but was it worth going to jail?”
“I won’t be in here long. My lawyers will get the charges thrown out.” He sent an angry look in the direction of the sheriff. “He won’t be able to hold me.”
“I pity you, Charlie,” she said softly.
“Pity me?” His eyes narrowed as his gaze returned to her.
“Your brother’s ranch wouldn’t satisfy you if you got it. You’d want more after that and more after that. Others were right about you. You’re a man without love and without God. You’re more like Angus than I thought you were.”
He called her a vile name as he grabbed the bars of the cell. “You have no right to that ranch or that ring or anything else that belonged to my brother. Angus never loved you. He regretted the day he married you and brought you here to live. You were worthless to him. You couldn’t even give him a child.”
She waited to feel the familiar pain, but it didn’t come. Memories of Angus could no longer hurt her. Charlie’s words could no longer hurt her. She was free of them. The last time she’d seen her brother-in-law, she’d been a woman bereft of hope, but that was no longer true of her. Now she was a woman who was loved and wanted and valued as she’d never been before. Not just by Hugh. Not just by her friends. But by God. She was a woman who had opened her hands to receive from the Lord, and He was filling them to overflowing.
“Perhaps that’s all true, Charlie, but I am worth something to others.” She took a step backward. “I’m worth something to God. I will endeavor to pray for you from time to time, that God may have His way with you.” She turned and walked back to the sheriff’s desk.
He said, “I can’t let you have the ring yet, Mrs. Grace. It’s evidence. But it will be returned eventually.”
“Can you tell me, is it true that the increase in taxes will be rescinded?”
“I imagine so since the vote was illegal.”
Her thoughts churned. Wait until she could tell Hugh what happened in his absence. Perhaps they could stay at Sage-hen. Perhaps they wouldn’t have to sell the last of the cattle. Perhaps they —
The words swirling in her head quieted, and she knew that they wouldn’t be staying on the ranch or in Wyoming. God had another place and another purpose for them. She knew it with every fiber of her being. And she was content.
Late on Friday morning, Hugh stood in the parlor of Julia’s house, waiting for his bride to appear in the doorway of her bedroom. With him were Reverend Peabody, Peter, and the entire Collins brood, save for Rose. She was in the bedroom with Julia.
“Breathe, my friend,” Peter whispered, laughter in his voice.
Hugh glanced to his right. “I thought I
was
breathing.”
“Didn’t look like it.” Peter’s grin widened. “I was nervous on my wedding day too. It’s normal.”
Peter was wrong about the nervous part. Hugh wasn’t nervous. Not about marrying Julia. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that God had brought him to Sage-hen for this purpose. He’d been pondering that realization all week. Here on this ranch, with Julia, the Lord had completed a work begun on the plains of eastern Colorado. He’d set Hugh free from the sins of his past. He’d opened up a new and better future for him than he could have imagined for himself when he left Illinois. That’s what had him unconsciously holding his breath — amazement over what Christ had done for him when he learned to trust Him completely and submit to Him totally. And He’d done the same for Julia.
The bedroom door opened at last. Rose came out first, but
Hugh scarcely noticed her once his bride stepped into view. She wore a blue dress the exact same color as her eyes. Except for a broach near her collar, the gown was unadorned. Her hair had been swept upward and decorated with tiny blue flowers.
He’d never seen anything or anyone more beautiful in all his life.
She came toward him, a small smile on her lips.
Another reason for amazement. Considering the kind of life she’d endured with Angus, no one could have blamed her if she’d chosen never to marry again. But she
had
chosen to marry again … and she’d chosen to marry Hugh. A miracle if ever there was one.
He held out his hand and drew her to his side, returning her smile.
“Very good,” the reverend said. “Shall we begin?”
For the briefest of moments, Julia remembered her first wedding, the bride seventeen and shy and uncertain and hopeful and frightened. But looking into Hugh’s eyes cast out the memory.
“Dearly beloved …”
In a short while she would be married to Hugh Brennan. In a matter of weeks, they would ride away from Sage-hen for good to begin a new life elsewhere. Where once such a thought would have filled her with fear, now she felt a peace and comfort. Perhaps even some excitement.
The locust ate so many years, Lord, but look at Your restoration
.
She smiled again, and her groom smiled at her in return. A flutter of anticipation erupted in her midsection. It seemed as if she had been awaiting this day her entire life. That every other experience in her life had been leading her to this one. The joy she felt was indescribable.
When the minister asked them to repeat their vows, she gladly did so in her turn. When he pronounced them man and wife, she gladly kissed her new husband in front of their witnesses. When Peter toasted their happiness, she gladly sipped the punch Rose had made. And when their guests and the Reverend Peabody bid them farewell, she gladly stood on the porch, Hugh at her side with his arm around her waist, and waved goodbye to them all.
And then they were alone, just the two of them.
Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Brennan.
Silence fell around them, and with it came a sense of the sacred, a new understanding of the beauty of marriage in the eyes of God. Hugh turned her toward him and held her close as he kissed her, explored her mouth with his own, unhurried, tender, loving.
And she was not afraid.
Julia was alone in the bed when she awakened. From the light filtering through the window curtains, she saw that afternoon had drifted into evening while she napped. Her stomach growled, reminding her how long it had been since she’d eaten anything. Not since breakfast, and that had been slight because of her wedding preparations. Perhaps if she waited here in bed, her husband would return to the bedroom with a tray of food.
My husband
.
Even loving Hugh as she did, she hadn’t expected to feel this way, knowing he was hers and she was his. She hadn’t expected to delight in the little ways he understood her. She loved how he could tease her with a smile. She loved the passion of his kisses. She loved the tenderness in his touch.
She stretched, arms above her head, and was tempted to purr like a cat. Was it possible to be this happy?
“Oh, I am being silly,” she said to herself as she reached for her robe.
Out of bed, she walked barefoot to the parlor. Hugh wasn’t there nor was he in the kitchen. She went to the front door and looked outside in time to see him walking toward the house, milk pail in hand, Bandit following at his side.
She smiled, remembering the way the dog used to warily observe Hugh, even growl at him. “Bandit,” she called, “have you forgotten he called you mangy?”
Hugh looked up with a grin. “You’re awake at last.”
A flush of pleasure rose to burn her cheeks.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of hoofbeats interrupted him. They both looked toward the road leading to the house. It was Rose, alone in the surrey, which she seldom used because she usually had the children with her.
If it had been anyone else, Julia would have slipped back into the house to put on something more appropriate for this hour of the day. She would have done something with her hair too. But this was Rose, and she wouldn’t have returned to Sage-hen today — Julia’s wedding day — if something urgent hadn’t sent her.
Could it have to do with Charlie? Was he out of jail as he’d promised he would be?
Julia stepped to the edge of the porch, tightening the tie around her waist as she did so.
“Julia!” Rose waved something in her hand. “Julia, you got a letter from your mother.”
She reached for the nearby post to steady her suddenly weak legs.
Rose climbed out of the surrey and hurried to the porch steps. “Peter went into town, and Mrs. O’Donnell asked if he would deliver this to you. She knew you’d be anxious to receive it.”
Anxious hardly described Julia’s feelings. She hadn’t expected an answer, after all. Her mother had sent back her letters for so long without reading them. Why had she read this one? Why had she taken the time to respond? Perhaps Julia’s silence of the past three years had made her mother curious.
She took the letter from Rose’s outstretched hand, then lifted her gaze to meet Hugh’s. She read the concern in his eyes.
“Go inside and read it,” Rose said. “You don’t need an audience.”
Not having words to respond, she could only do as her friend instructed. She went into the house and sank onto a chair in the parlor. Holding the envelope between both hands, she stared at the return address:
Madeline Crane, Grand Coeur, Idaho
. She ran her right index finger over the writing. Finally, she turned the envelope over, broke the seal, and removed the stationery inside.
Dearest Julia
,
There is no way I could explain my feelings when I saw your name on the envelope carrying your letter. I thought I would never hear from you again. I thought your anger toward me was final and that you were ignoring the letters I sent to you
.
My dear daughter, I never returned any letters to you unopened. I promise you, that is true. I would not think of doing so, not when I have been so hungry for word from you
.
I cannot say that I am sorry for Angus Grace’s death, knowing how he hurt you. Nor can I forgive myself for the part I played in putting you in that situation. Though I acted out of love, I made a horrid mistake. How foolish I was. How careless with the one person in my life I held so dear
.
You asked if I am still with Madame Rousseau. No, I no longer work for her. I have a little business of my own. It was left to me, several years ago, in the will of a man who wished to marry me. I cannot claim that I am accepted by the more respectable folks in Grand Coeur, but I am no longer looked at the way I once was. You will be surprised to know that I even attend church services on occasion
.
Please write to me again soon. I long to know more of your life
.
With love
,
Your devoted Mother
The final words on the page swam before Julia’s tear-filled eyes.
With love …
Letters sent and never received.
Letters never returned unopened.
How could this be?
She rose from the chair and walked into the bedroom. Once again, she retrieved her box of keepsakes from the wardrobe and took it with her to the bed where she sat. Opening the lid, she stared at the two bundles of letters. It was the bundle addressed to her mother that she withdrew. She untied the yellow ribbon and fanned the envelopes across her lap. “ R
ETURNED TO
W
RITER
” had been written across the front of each one, big and bold.
Angus’s handwriting. Why hadn’t she realized it before? Angus had never mailed her letters. He had wanted Julia to be cut off for good from her mother. Had he known what was in that last letter her mother received?
“Julia?”
She looked toward the sound of Hugh’s voice. He stood in the bedroom doorway, clearly uncertain whether he should enter or not.
“Come in,” she said softly, touching the mattress beside her.
He joined her there.
“Angus never mailed the letters. He made me believe my mother returned them to me instead. He must have intercepted the letters she sent to me too.” She looked into his eyes. “How could anyone be that cruel?”
Hugh shook his head.
A tiny sob of joy escaped her. “She never stopped loving me.”
He gathered her close, pressing his face into her hair, murmuring indistinct words of comfort. The keepsake box slid off the bed and hit the floor, but neither of them paid it any mind.