Daughters of the Heart (30 page)

“Haven’t discussed it with her yet, but I need to talk with Henry myself.”

“Why? Thought you already had his blessing.”

“I do, but Jethro and the Lord convinced me I need to tell the man about my past.”

Clay didn’t know how to answer.

The scripture Pa used on him every time he got suspected of misbehaving came to his mind. He could almost hear his voice. The truth will set you free, boy. That and the old man’s razor strap. He stared at the wick’s flame.

Hopefully the next day, he and his friend would hear the truth, and it’d give wings to their dreams.

With all within her, Gwendolyn wanted to hate Sofia, but how could she? The slave couldn’t be blamed for her situation. Nothing could be counted her fault. She’d done the right thing, coming here to warn them about Braxton and his father’s evil plans.

She could’ve run straight off to California without saying a word to anyone about anything.

How could the man do it? Gwen shuddered. Bubba indeed!. That name fit him way better than…. She didn’t even want to think his real name, much less give it voice. What a mess.

But bless the Lord, Clay came back for her. Everything would all work out, it had to. Except…what was she going to do about going to California?

If only CeCe would commit, but she still hoped Elijah would stay in Texas.

There might be a chance to get Clay to stay if Elijah did, but Gwen didn’t think he would.

Her door creaked open. Her sister’s face appeared in the slot. “Good, you’re up. Sofia’s crying.”

Gwen set her needlework into her lap. “About what?”

“I don’t know. Think we should go see?”

“Oh, mercy. Is she wailing or something?”

“No. It’s real soft sobbing, akin to a fresh weaned pup crying for its mama.”

Laying her mending on her side table, she stood then slipped on her housecoat that had been doubling as a lap wrap. She hated leaving her warm room, but lifted the oil lamp and headed for the door.

What else could she do?  She waved CeCe into the hall. “Come on, let’s go see.”

On the third tap, the door opened. Even in the dim lamplight, it was obvious the girl had been crying. Gwen looked past the slave. No one had bothered to kindle a fire. “My room is warmer, or we could build you a fire.”

Sofia ducked her head. “It isn’t that cold in here. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Want to talk?” CeCe stepped from behind Gwen. “I couldn’t help but hear you crying.”

Without raising her chin, the girl nodded, except she appeared older. “No, I’m alright. Wait. I suppose. If you want.”

Gwen slipped her free hand into Sofia’s and tugged. “Come on to my room. I hate being cold.”

Her sister sat the bed while Gwen arranged her chair and one for Sofia close to the hearth.

Once she had another slab of oak on the embers, she smiled at her late night visitor. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen, according to my mama, but Aunt Tess says she got it wrong, and I’m only fifteen. I’s born in September though.”

“Wow, I’m older than you then. I’ll turn eighteen in March.”

“And I’ve been nineteen since November. Miss Jewel doesn’t know for sure how old she is either. On a good day, she claims she’s only fifty, but if her feet get to swelling she thinks maybe closer to sixty.” Gwen resisted putting another chunk of wood on.

No telling how long either of her guests would stay, but she wanted enough oak to knock the chill off come morning.

“So why were you crying, Sofia?”

“On account of I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to stay either. I feel safe now, but I need to get to California, as far away as possible. Bull will send someone looking for me. I belong to him.

If bounty hunters find me here, your pa will have to turn me over to them.” Tears welled again and filled her eyes.

“Daddy would never let them. We’d hide you.”

“But traveling might be easier now than with a newborn, and I need to get as far away as I can while I can. And what if those Comancheros didn’t kill Bubba. He’ll be looking for me, too. He’d probably kill me for coming here.”

“No. He loves you, doesn’t he?”

“He owns me, Missy. I’m his property, and I didn’t just steal myself, I took his blood money, too, but I had to. Just like I had to come and tell your pa what the Glovers planned. Didn’t intend to stay, but I feel so safe here.”

Jumping off the bed, CeCe came over and took her hand. “You are, and you should stay.”

“That night in the hotel, I thought Mister Henry was going to shoot Bubba dead, maybe me, too, and…” She shook her head. “That look in his eyes that night, even in the dim light, I saw.…” She hugged herself like the north wind had just whipped a gust under the door.

Her sister laughed. “We call it the wolf. He doesn’t let it out much. Hardly ever.”

“Oh my, I was never so scared or relieved in my whole life that night.” Gwen looked between the young women, “Once I turned Braxton down, and you two started chasing me up those stairs.” Tears welled. “I don’t know how, but there Daddy was in the hall, and I knew—sweet Lord, did I ever know—I was safe.”

Sofia nodded. “Think he’ll really let me stay here until I birth this baby? His woman didn’t seem too happy about me being here at all.”

“We saw that, too. Didn’t we, sis?” CeCe turned back to the girl, “But that isn’t like her at all. I don’t know what was going on.”

“Yes, but Mama May wouldn’t turn you out.” Gwen mostly believed the words that came out of her mouth, but a part of her doubted it. For sure and certain, the beauty wouldn’t ever live under the same roof as her and Clay.   

Elijah had noticed the sparks flying
the evening before between Clay’s nephew and Bonnie, but at the boy’s leaving that morning, the way the two acted proved almost comical.

Even with the crowd gathered on the porch, the two still carried on. Him stealing glances over his shoulder as he drove away, her standing out in the yard watching until the wagon turned the corner.

But he couldn’t blame either. The good Lord put a hole in everyone’s heart that only a very special someone could fill. His stood so close, yet.…

Turning, he faced Henry, who stood in the doorway. “A word, sir?”

The man nodded then headed inside. Elijah slipped his hand into Cecelia’s and followed her father to the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Once the king of his fate sat behind his desk, with his own special someone on his right, Henry glanced from Cecelia to Elijah. “What’s on your mind, Son?”

A wry chuckle escaped, and he shook his head. “Running’s the truth, but the stakes are too high.”

The man returned the bit of mirth then his face turned hard. “What’s wrong?”

Trying to draw strength from her sheer beauty, he glanced at Cecelia, sitting the other wingback next to him then back to her father. “Well, sir, before we can even discuss any wedding plans….”

Oh, Lord, give me strength.

“I need to tell you both something. You and your daughter, sir.” In tipping his hat to Miss May, he remembered and took it plum off. “You, too, ma’am, of course.” The words about choked him, but somehow he had to get his past out in the open.

Cecelia squeezed his hand. “What is it, Elijah?”

“When my parents got the fever and run off, hunting the mother lode, well…I, uh…at first…well, I’d worked enough to.…” He filled his lungs then exhaled slow. “Well, whatever coin I made, I’d drink up. When my pockets went empty, I’d go back to smithing.”

“Well, my goodness, how old were you then? Sixteen or seventeen? Who could expect such a young boy to be perfect?” She offered him a reassuring smile then turned. “Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

“Let the man say his peace, darlin’.”

“One night, this miner I’d done some work for took me to…this…uh…den…in China Town where all the patrons smoked opium.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know it when I went, but didn’t know the Lord either then, and well…the first day Clay and I were in San Francisco, he noticed a rickshaw turning off Broadway going into China Town.”

“Oh, sweetheart!” Cecelia gasped and covered her mouth.

Couldn’t let her reaction keep him from his mission. “I guess my pride convinced me a little sake.” He faced his love. “Rice wine. Anyway, thought it couldn’t hurt. Next thing I knew, Clay and I were throwing punches right in the middle of a brawl. Praise God for Brother Paul. If he hadn’t come along when he did, then only the Lord knows where I’d be.”

“Who’s this Paul?”

“Pastor at the Methodist church there in San Francisco.”

“Did you and Clay smoke any opium?”

“No, sir. I’d never do that again. After the rice wine, we went down the street to the Dragon, that’s where we got into the fight.”

“How’d that come about? You a mean drunk?”

“No, sir. This miner started cursing a blue streak at this sporting lady. Clay took exception, and the man’s friend thought he should get involved. Next thing I know, I’m waking up bruised and battered in my room at Jethro and Mary Rachel’s house.”

The man leaned back and eyed him for a bit, glanced at May who only gave him a tiny lady-like one-shoulder shrug. If Elijah hadn’t been watching, he would have missed it. “Took guts to tell me about this.”

“I really didn’t have a choice, though. Between the Lord and Jethro Risen, I knew I had to.”

“What about you, baby? This change anything?”

Cecelia squeezed his hand then faced her father. “No, sir. I’m confident he’ll never do it again, but I’ll love him until the day I die, no matter what. That much is for sure and certain.”

Henry took turns looking at him then his daughter. The silence hung heavy.

“Sir, there’s one more issue.” Elijah made himself not look at his love. “Actually two.”

“What else?”

“I know you said we needed to wait until March, ’til after her birthday and all, and we agreed. I planned on not coming back until that time, but now…I really need to get on back –”

“No! You can’t, Elijah!” She obviously wanted confirmation from her father, and he understood, but.…

"See, I found this high pressure hose in New Orleans when Clay and I went west last fall, and it’s working true wonders, but Jethro wants me to modify the hammer mill. There’s so much we need to redo at the mine. And he’s got several ideas for the dairy. I’m needed there.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“Clay. He and I work so well together, and there’s so much to do there, and…” He shut his mouth. He hated prattling on. No one liked that, leastwise no man he knew. Didn’t want Henry to think he was sticking his nose in Clay’s business either. No easy job to read the man; if only he’d give him a ray of hope.

“Is there more?”

“No, sir.”

The San Francisco opium trade and how pervasive the drug wasn’t news to Henry, but he’d never known anyone personally who’d indulged. Knew plenty of drunks, even imbibed a taste now and again his own self.

May going sweet tea only on him when he got her pregnant with Crockett put his nightly toddy habit on hold.

“The opium, how long has it been?”

“Over four years.”

He looked at May who wore her poker face, but he’d bet she leaned toward him doing whatever he wanted. If only Sue…Cecelia was her daughter, too, and nothing existed she didn’t have a passionate opinion on.

Except if here…she wouldn’t be any help anyway. She’d be too preoccupied clawing May’s eyes out.

As bad as he wanted to grin thinking of it, he stayed the course. “What about you, Cecelia? Are you willing to go with Elijah?”

“Yes, sir. I mean I never planned on going to California. However, I’ve been thinking on it since you and Gwen got back from the Briggs. I’d hate leaving Texas, and I really don’t want to.” She faced her intended. “But I love you, Elijah Eversole. Though I hate the thought of not living here, there’s no way I could stand you leaving without me again.”

“I love you, too, Cecelia, so much it hurts.”

She looked back. “Can we, Daddy? Can we get married like…in say…uh…a week?”

“A week? Your mother can’t have everything ready in seven days.”

A May-sized fist punched his arm. “Don’t be silly, Henry. The Lord made the heavens and earth in six. You say the word, and we’ll be ready.” He loved the way she smiled at his girl. She really did love his daughters like they were hers.

And the young lady smiled back just as big. The love between the two shown as bright and plain as the sun at noonday.

“Can we then? Can we, Daddy?”

He held his hands up. “I haven’t decided anything yet.” He shook his head. “I need to think on this. What about your sister?”

“We can have another double wedding! Like you and Mama! That’ll be so much fun.” CeCe jumped to her feet. “I’ll be eighteen in a few days anyway.”

“More than two months.”

She glared at him. So much like her mother. Oh, Susannah, why did you have to die on me? “Like I said, a few days. So that’s no real reason to say no. And Mama said we could be ready, and please, Daddy, please! Say yes.”

He held his hands up higher. “You two get out of here and fetch Gwen and Clay. Your mother and I need to talk with them.”

For a second, CeCe held the glare then puckered her lips and sent May a thank-you kiss. To him she offered the saddest, poutiest please he’d ever seen. He waved her out, but what could he do? Break his baby’s heart?

Once the door closed, he faced May. “What do you think?”

“I like the whole idea of a double wedding.”

“What about the opium?”

“Seems to me, my darling, if he were a fool, he would have returned to his folly by now. Instead, he confessed.”

“I hate the thought of them running off to San Francisco. It’s bad enough Mary Rachel’s out there. It’d be so quiet. How…”

She leaned over, and kissed him. “Can’t keep them babies all their lives. We’ll still have Bonnie, and we can go visit in a year or so, after the baby –”

“Mercy. Did you see how Jasper Briggs was mooning over her?”

“Of course. A body would have to be blind not to, and she bounced it right back.”

“See? If I give in to CeCe, then Bonnie’s going to think she can get married at fifteen.”

“Oh, you. She will not. Two months short of eighteen is getting married right under the old-maid wire in some circles.”

“Not mine.”

She obviously stifled a grin, because her eyes smiled all the way to town and back. She seemed to be formulating a better retort, but a light tap on the door sounded, and she leaned back, a victorious smile plastered on her so kissable lips.

“Come in.”

Clay held the door for Gwendolyn then waited until she picked a wingback before he eased into the other one. Henry smiled at his baby then faced the young man she now claimed to love. “I heard just now about your and Elijah’s first day in San Francisco. Anything you need to get off your chest?”

He rubbed his chin like remembering getting hit. “Right off—we were barely off the ship—this rickshaw turns the corner ahead of us; well, I didn’t know what the thing was until Elijah told me.”

“An unusual sight if you’ve never seen one.”

Henry glanced at May then back to the boy. Why did a woman always have to help someone tell a tale? “Go on.”

“We decided to get us a bite in China Town, drank too much of that sake. Man, who’d think rice wine would pack such a punch? Real sneaky, nothing like hard liquor. Almost like drinking water. We decided on a beer to wash it down.”

He glanced at Gwen who didn’t seem too enthralled with the boy’s story or its telling, but she looked right back at him like she didn’t care for what he was seeing either.

“So we were minding our own business at the fancy saloon we’d stopped in, then this loud-mouthed miner took to berating this lady. No one was taking up for her. So I stepped up and told the guy to stop talking like that. Next thing I know, I’m getting beat worse than any whipping my brothers ever put on me. If not for Elijah, no telling what might have happened.”

“Elijah said the lady was a soiled dove.”

“What?” Gwen scooted to the edge of her chair and glared at Clay. “You were consorting with a sporting lady?”

“No, never.” He pressed back like he wanted to get as far away from her as possible. “I didn’t know nothing about her occupation, not until later when Elijah told me, but no man should ever say those things to any woman. No matter what.”

“Amen.”

Henry ignored his wife. Apparently, she added whatever came to mind. “Just now, you mentioned hard liquor. You drink much, Clay Briggs?”