Hannah’s Beau (6 page)

Molly giggled. “Me, too. Someday.”

Hannah joined in the child’s laughter, feeling the tension ease out of her with the gesture.

Just then, a clap of thunder sounded in the distance.

Molly looked to the heavens, scrunched her face into a frown and marched back to Pastor Beau. “Well?” Her fists returned to her hips and her foot started tapping on the ground. “Are you playing or not?”

“Molly, honey,” Marc said in a practical voice. “I think you’re going to get rained on very shortly.”

The little girl’s face fell. “But—”

“Not to worry.” Hannah rose to her feet and tapped
Molly on the shoulder to get her attention. “I know several games we can play inside.”

Molly’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

Hannah nodded, then looked at the approaching clouds. The breeze had grown still, and the sharp, pungent odor of rain pulsated in the air. “I’ll teach one of them to you later.”

“That sounds nice.”

But clearly, Molly Taylor Scott was made of very stern stuff. She wasn’t relenting without a fight. “Come on, Pastor Beau.” She grabbed his hand and tugged. “Before it rains.”

Beau lifted an eyebrow at Hannah as though seeking her permission. He looked so sweet standing there with the child’s hand gripped gently in his.

He’ll make a great father.

Now where did that thought come from?

“Go on,” she said, more than a little touched by the picture the two made. “We can talk to her father after the game.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know.” Her heart punched two solid thumps against her ribs. “Thank you for that.”

Opening his mouth to speak, the pastor shifted his weight toward Hannah, but Molly tugged on him again. “Let’s go.”

“I think I’ll join you,” Marc said. Pausing a moment, he angled his head toward Hannah. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Southerland.”

“You, too, Mr. Dupree.”

As Marc followed behind the other two, Laney let out
a loud sigh. “Five years of marriage, and I never get tired of looking at that man.”

“Sounds like love to me.”

“That it is.”

The other woman’s face glowed as she spoke, and Hannah felt her earlier sense of yearning grow more powerful. Home. Safety. Permanence. Until now, Hannah hadn’t realized how much she craved all three. The years of traveling from stage to stage were obviously taking their toll. Hopefully one day she would find her own place in the world.

“You’re very fortunate to have found such love,” Hannah said on a soft whisper choked with emotion.

“You have no idea. I’ll tell you the story someday.” She tilted her face toward the incoming clouds. “For now, let’s head inside. I’m sure some new drama is unfolding as we speak. Children.” Laney gave her an ironic grin. “I do so love their unpredictable ways.”

“Bless their impertinent souls,” Hannah said with a wink.

Laney burst out laughing. “My sentiments exactly.” Fastening their arms together, Laney steered them both toward the front steps. “Whatever your story is, Miss Hannah Southerland, I’ve decided to like you.”

Hannah smiled in mingled surprise and pleasure at the unexpected announcement. “Well, glory, because I’ve decided to like you right back.”

A
n hour later, Beau watched as dark, ominous clouds devoured the last patch of blue sky. Consecutive cracks of thunder traveled along the back end of a powerful wind. The earthy scent of rain filled the air. All of nature stood poised for the watery attack, while seventeen children and three grown men—Beau included—pretended nothing was amiss.

Another succession of thunder rumbled closer, the sound reverberating through the backyard ball game.

And still the contest continued. For three more seconds. Two. One…

The rain let loose.

Fat drops of icy water pummeled man and child alike. Feet pounded. Shouts lifted in the air. Childish giggles and adult commands wrapped inside one another. Orders to get out of the mud and into the house were barked in a masculine, authoritative tone. A flash of lightning highlighted the urgency.

When the bedlam continued, the order came again.
“Everybody inside the house,” Marc shouted. This time his tone brooked no argument.

A chorus of groans and complaints rose up.

“Now.”

One by one the children scrambled onto the back porch. Bringing up the rear, Beau hoisted one of the smaller boys into his arms and dashed up the stairs. By the time he commandeered the last step, he had to shuffle his way through a maze of arms and legs vying for space, as well.

Marc made quick work of gathering equipment in one pile and wet shoes in another before herding the motley group inside.

From his vantage point, Beau watched the giggling horde poke and pull and elbow one another en route to the house. The children managed to arouse his amusement and sympathy all at the same time. There was a reserved nature to their movements, something sad and self-preserving that kept the boys and girls from fully engaging in the fun. It was as if they were holding back a part of themselves.

Understandable. Given their histories.

There was a lot of God’s work to do at Charity House. The orphanage could use a full-time minister on staff. But it wouldn’t be Beau. Even if he didn’t have his own plans for the future, he was already committed to the church in Greeley. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Marc and Laney find a preacher who would fit in with the ministry already started here at the orphanage.

Despite his efforts to mentally organize a list of potential candidates, his mind shifted to another, more urgent subject. Beau owed it to Miss Southerland to get down to the business of finding her sister.

Shaking water out of his hair, he waited until the last
of the children banged inside the house behind Marc. Only then did he pull Trey aside. “I need a word with you, Marshal.”

Eyes never leaving Beau’s face, the lawman removed his hat and set it on a nearby rocking chair. “Trouble again?”

A cold ball of dread settled heavily in Beau’s belly. “You have no idea.”

Hitching his hip against the porch railing, Trey rubbed his jaw. The day-old stubble and grim twist of his lips made the man look as fierce as his reputation. With the nickname Beelzebub’s Cousin, it was no wonder Trey Scott was known as a ruthless lawman who hunted criminals with a vengeance.

However, when Beau looked into Trey’s eyes, he saw past the U.S. Marshal and found the loyalty and integrity that had won the heart of Charity House’s schoolteacher, Katherine Taylor, and her little sister, Molly.

“Another runaway husband?” Trey asked.

“Not precisely.” Beau shook his head. “This time, it’s personal.”

To his credit, Trey’s expression never changed. “I see. Tell me what I can do for you.”

The wind chose that moment to kick harder, pelting razor-sharp needles of rain straight into Beau’s eyes. He shifted slightly and set his shoulders against the storm. “I need you to help me find my brother.”

Frowning, Trey stared up at the ceiling. He stood in that contemplative pose so long that Beau looked up, as well. But then Trey shoved away from the railing and lowered his gaze back to Beau’s. “Let’s finish this conversation in Marc’s study.”

Beau nodded. “That’ll be fine.”

As he followed the marshal through the back of the house, Beau had to fight the urge to rush his steps. Even the homey scent of baking bread couldn’t pacify his impatience. Now that the initial shock of the situation was wearing off and the possible repercussions were settling in, he wanted Tyler found. Immediately.

As they strode through the house, the only sound in the hallway came from their heels pounding against the wood floor like hammers to nails. An uneasy feeling darted toward the surface before Beau tamped it down. So much time had passed. Tyler and Miss Southerland’s sister could be anywhere by now.

Lord,
Beau prayed,
I’m overwhelmed by this task You’ve brought before me. Please, give me strength, wisdom and clarity, so I may guide Miss Southerland in this search.

At the end of the hallway, they rounded the corner and came across Marc, who was exiting a room on their left.

“We’d like to borrow your study awhile,” Trey asked in explanation of their presence.

Marc looked from one man to the other, and then nodded. “Take your time.”

Remembering his original mission, Beau reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope with Marc’s name scrawled on the outside. “This is from Jane. For Megan’s care.”

“Set it on my desk,” Marc said, but then his gaze turned serious. “How is Jane?”

Beau’s chest pinched tight as he called to mind the unnatural pallor of the former actress’s skin and the lack of fight in her eyes. “Time’s running out for her.”

Marc released a resigned sigh. “I’ll prepare Megan.”

“At some point I’d like to speak with her, as well.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Marc turned to go. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Trey answered for them both. “Will do.”

While Marc disappeared in the opposite direction, Beau followed Trey into the empty office. Once inside, Beau’s mind circled back to Miss Southerland. He wondered how she was faring. She’d looked so fragile earlier, practically dropping from exhaustion.

Yet she hadn’t complained once. He told himself he appreciated that rare quality in her, but it wasn’t true. If only she would lean on him, just a little. But that would require trust. Something Beau had destroyed with an ill-timed, harshly worded snap judgment.

“Have a seat.” Trey waved his hand toward a matching pair of leather, wingback chairs facing a large mahogany desk.

Beau lowered himself into the one on his right and looked around. The dark furniture, with its bold, masculine lines, lacked all sign of feminine frills. A fire snapped in the hearth, giving the room a pleasant, smoky odor. One day Beau hoped to have a similar room, a place where he could write his sermons and conduct the business of his ministry.

A private refuge all his own. No women allowed.

It wasn’t that Beau didn’t like women. On the contrary. They fascinated him, intrigued him. He liked the way they took such care with their hair and clothing, liked how they found joy in silly things like a new bit of lace. But as a child he’d been unable to get away from the flounce and feminine scents that were commonplace backstage.

Even now, as an adult, his ministry brought him to places like Mattie’s, places that held many of the same female sounds and smells of the theater.

At least the women in the theater kept their dignity when they conducted the business of their trade.

Beau thought of Jane then. He needed to return to her bedside as soon as possible. Perhaps he could still convince her to move into the sanatorium. Perhaps there was still time to save her. Perhaps…

Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain made a hard hissing sound as it scraped against the windows in the back of the room.

Undaunted by the commotion building outside, Trey settled into the chair behind the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper from the top drawer. “Let’s start with the basics. Tell me about your brother.”

Where to begin?

In an attempt to gather his thoughts, Beau rose from his chair and walked over to the hearth. The fire cracked and popped, radiating a strong blast of heat. Rubbing his hands together, Beau cast a sideways glance at Trey. How did he go about revealing his dark family secret, one he had only learned of a few hours ago? For all intents and purposes, the man was a stranger to Beau.

And yet, without revealing the full truth of the matter, the marshal wouldn’t be able to help him. “Did you see the woman that came outside to watch part of the game with Laney?” Beau began.

Trey’s face went carefully blank. “Couldn’t avoid noticing her. Nor could most of the older boys.” He chuckled softly. “Thought I was going to have to
scrape a few of their chins off the ground so we could continue the game.”

Smiling at the reminder, Beau rolled his shoulders and dug his toe into the stone hearth at his feet. There was no denying the fact that Miss Southerland turned heads, stopped baseball games in midinning and literally dropped the jaws of men and boys alike.

Of course, it wasn’t the boys that bothered Beau. It was the men. What lengths would the less reputable go to in order to win Miss Southerland’s affection?

A dozen of the uglier possibilities came to mind, and a hot surge of uneasiness made Beau’s breath back up in his lungs. Unwilling to explore the new emotion too deeply, he tapped an angry rhythm against his thigh.

“Is she a friend of yours?” Trey asked at last.

“No.” Beau assumed a neutral expression and turned to face the other man head-on. “I met her this afternoon for the first time. She’s with the same acting company as my brother.”

A single eyebrow shot up. “Would that be the same brother you want me to locate?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, the situation is complicated. The short version is that after a two-day acquaintance, Miss Southerland’s sister and my brother ran off together.” Beau gnashed his teeth. “The girl in question is engaged to be married to another man. Her father, not to mention her unsuspecting fiancé, will find the situation unacceptable, perhaps even unforgivable. Miss Southerland wishes to locate her sister before anyone discovers she’s missing.”

As he retold the story, Beau realized the situation
was indeed as dire as Miss Southerland had indicated. What could have induced Tyler to do something so devious, so selfish?

Love, perhaps? Hardly. Love was patient. Love was kind. It was
not
self-seeking. No. What Tyler had done wasn’t about love. It was about Tyler.

“Am I to assume you want me to uncover the location of the fugitives?”

“Precisely.”

Beau went on to explain how Miss Southerland knew the two had come west. He then laid out the rest of the details in order of importance, ending with a description of Tyler—a younger, slicker version of Beau—and Rachel—an identical replica of Miss Southerland.

When Beau finished, Trey set the pen down. “I’ll start making inquiries at once.”

“We have less than a month before Rachel’s scheduled wedding. I can’t stress enough how desperate Miss Southerland is to find her sister.”
That was certainly an understatement.
“She won’t wait long for trickles of information.”

Trey pressed his lips into a flat line. “Nor can she go off without any clear direction.”

“Understood.” For a few painful seconds, the churning in Beau’s stomach became unbearable.

He didn’t envy the poor soul who had to tell Miss Southerland to sit tight and wait for concrete news about her sister. And since
he
was that poor soul, Beau had a mind to throttle his baby brother the moment he found him. Maybe then they would talk.

Or…maybe not.

Hannah finished drying her hands just as the sun peeked through a seam in the clouds. The rain had stopped, but if the black sky hovering above the distant mountains was any indication, the storm wasn’t over yet.

Setting the rag down, she pivoted to study her handiwork of the last hour. Five loaves of bread sat in a straight row atop the counter, waiting their turn for baking. It had been years since Hannah had dug her hands into dough. The sensation had felt nice, soothing.
Distracting.

Mrs. Smythe, the housekeeper and resident cook, beamed at her. “Such lovely work, Miss Southerland.” She motioned to the rising loaves. “Simply wonderful.”

A swift jolt of pleasure shot through Hannah at the compliment. “Thank you. I enjoyed helping.”

As if she’d timed her cue to perfection, Laney glided into the room and immediately honed in on Hannah’s efforts. “You’ve been busy.”

“Can’t stand idle hands.” Hannah waggled her fingers to punctuate her statement.

“I see that.”

“What’s our status with the children?” Mrs. Smythe asked.

With her face scrunched in concentration, Laney ticked off the specifics on her fingers. “The older children are getting cleaned up after their latest adventure in the mud. Trey and the pastor are shut in behind closed doors in Marc’s office.”

She shot a questioning look at Hannah but didn’t wait for an answer. Lifting a third finger, she continued with her inventory. “Katherine and Mavis are deep into
bath time with the little ones. And Marc is coordinating the rest. That means we have approximately twenty minutes before mayhem erupts again.”

Mrs. Smythe blew out a satisfied sigh and shuffled toward a side door in the corner of the kitchen. “Well, then, I think I’ll take a few moments to put my feet up before I start supper.”

“Sounds good. And you.” Laney pointed a finger at Hannah. “Why don’t you rest, as well? You look exhausted.”

Without waiting for a response, Laney placed a hand on her shoulder and gently guided Hannah into a nearby chair.

Officially too exhausted to fight, Hannah relaxed into the wooden seat. “I
have
been traveling for three days now.” She shook her head at the declaration. “I can’t believe it’s been that long since I left Chicago.”

Three days. And every moment spent at Charity House was time lost on the trail. Her entire body trembled with impatience. But what could she do? Hannah squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. There was no point in rushing off. Yet.