Joline's Redemption (11 page)

The night she escaped the bordello flashed back in her mind. She'd been so desperate that she'd prayed that night—twice.

She glanced up at the sky. Maybe she did believe in God, but she still had never seen Him do anything for her. Maybe God had brought Lara and Gabe together, but what possible reason could there be for her and Baron Hillborne to know one another? She couldn't think of a single positive purpose. No, he was a threat to her. And he could tell Mark where she was. Not that Mark cared, but if he knew he had a son … how could he not want to know him?

Mark hadn't cared to have a child in the past, so why should it matter now? He'd even beaten her the first two times she'd been with child, causing her to miscarry. But people changed, and she couldn't take a chance that Mark had. Jo kissed the top of her son's fuzzy head. Jamie was the most important thing in her life, and she wasn't going to lose him.

Feeling a bit guilty for ignoring Sarah after Baron's confrontation, she glanced over her shoulder. “What did you think about the church service?”

A warm glow filled Sarah's black eyes. “It was wonderful, especially the music.”

“That Maude Potter sure is a good piano player,” Gabe said.

Jo remembered seeing Sarah sitting at the bawdy house piano a time or two, plunking keys. The piano was reserved for entertaining the guests early in the evening while they spent their money on Badger's booze. She shuddered at the memory of what followed after that time.

Badger had forced her to entertain some special clients after she got over Jamie's birth, but more times than not, he wanted her for himself. That's why she feared he'd never let her go. What would he do if he caught her? Kill her or take her back? Beat her, for sure.

At least Jamie would be safe with family if something happened to her. She knew Gabe and Lara would raise him with Michael and their new baby, just as if he were their son. But oh, how she would miss seeing him grow up. She hugged him closer.

“Looks like someone's coming this way and fast.” Gabe nudged his chin toward a cloud of dust on the horizon. Soon a rider crested the hill and headed for them in full gallop. As he drew closer the man slowed the horse.

“That's Barney.”

Jo gasped. “Maybe Lara's in labor.”

Gabe reined in the horses, and the buggy slowed. “How could she start so fast? She was fine when we left, other than mentioning some back pain.”

“That's how my labor with Jamie started.”

Gabe shot her a quick worried glance and stopped the buggy. Barney rode up to them.

“Your wife … uh … she sent me for the doctor. The, uh … baby's comin'.” A bright red blush shot up the cowboy's neck, engulfing his ears and jaw at the mention of the delicate subject. “You'd best get on home, boss. Daniel's taken sick, too.”

Gabe nodded, tension lines showing around his lips. “Go on and get the doc.”

“Yes, sir.” Barney flicked a look at Jo, touched the end of his hat, and then clucked to his horse and trotted off.

“Hold on, y'all.” Gabe slapped the reins against the horse's back. “He-yah!”

The buggy bolted forward. Jo held on to the side with one hand and Jamie with the other as the buggy careened down the rutted road as fast as possible. She hoped Lara was all right and that her delivery would go well. She'd never before thought of her sister dying, but it happened to women every day in childbirth. Lara had always seemed so strong that it was hard to imagine something going wrong. The sooner they got home and she could see that her sister was all right, the better she'd feel.

Jack sat on the bench outside the store, still numb over all that had happened. The town doc stooped over Mr. Beatty's body, but Jack knew there was no hope for the man now. Doc Vance stood. “Nothing I can do for that fellow.” He turned his gaze on Jack. “That gash doesn't look too bad, Parson. Did you black out?”

He shook his head, instantly sorry. He got woozy for a bit, but he wasn't going to mention that, not with so many of the townsfolk listening. “No.”

Doc tugged Jack's bloody hand away from the gash on his forehead and swabbed it with a white cloth. Jack grimaced as pain shot through his head but refused to cry out, even though it hurt worse than the kick he received while branding cattle a few years back. He glanced down at the scar on the back of his hand, remembering his cowboy days. What he wouldn't give to be back there now and to have avoided today's events.

But God had set him on another path—one on which he still was finding his way.

“Looks like you'll live, Pastor. But I want to get you back to my office before I stitch up this wound.”

Jack didn't argue with the man. He was ready to get away from the crowd he was still angry with. How was he supposed to teach these folks about loving God and their neighbors when they were so quick to judge a hungry man and pull a trigger?

He pushed to his feet, wobbling, but regained his balance as he held on to the post he'd banged into.

“Let me pass. Please. I need to get through.”

Jack closed his eyes. Not now.

Cora Sommers rushed to Jack's side and gasped. “What in the world happened? Did you get into a fight, Jack?”

He narrowed his eyes. Did she have such little faith in him? “Of course not.”

Doc looked around. “This man can't walk on his own, and I need to get him over to my office.” He snapped his fingers then pointed at two men. “You and you, help me with the parson.”

Jack wanted to argue that he could walk by himself, but he wasn't sure that was true. At least with a man pulling on each of his arms, Cora had to step back. While they were friends, he didn't want the townsfolk suspecting anything more in their relationship. He'd told her several times that he wasn't sure he'd be staying in Glen Haven very long, and he didn't want her getting her hopes up that he would.

He placed one foot in front of the other, trying to keep from losing his breakfast as the ground swirled. He needed to regain his faculties and then go find those boys. They had no one but him now.

As they stepped inside the doc's office, the man turned to Cora. “You'll have to wait out here, Miss Sommers.”

“Are you sure you don't need me to assist?”

“I'm sure,” Doc grumbled.

Jack suspected Cora wasn't too happy about that, but she didn't protest and he didn't look at her. Cora liked to have her hand in everything happening in the town. It was one thing he both admired and disliked about her. She was always helpful, but she bordered on being a busybody. The men assisted Jack onto the doc's table then shuffled out. The antiseptic odors in the room threatened to make Jack's belly erupt. He pressed his hand against it.

“I'll need to give you something for the pain, but it'll make you sleep for a while.”

“No.” Jack gently shook his head. “Just sew it up.”

“It'll hurt like heck.”

He shrugged and flexed his hand. “It's not the first time I've been injured.”

“Have it your way.”

Jack focused on Mr. Beatty's boys. He couldn't recall that the man ever stated their names. How was he going to get them to come with him? Chances were, they wouldn't believe him if he told them about their pa. In fact, the youngest one was probably too small to even understand it all.
God, what do I do with two orphans?

Jack hissed as the needle pierced his skin, burning like fire.

“Won't take long. Just hang in there.”

Boys—focus on them.
Where could he take them? There wasn't an orphanage nearby, not that he was aware of. Even so, the idea of placing them in a home knotted his belly. Was there a family who might want to take them in?

Most of the married couples in his church had a whole slew of young'uns. And he wanted to find a family who really wanted children to love and care for, not just some extra hands to work their farm or business.

The doc wrapped his head and handed him a bottle with six pills in it. “Take one of these every four or five hours if the pain gets too bad, although I suspect you won't need them.”

Jack nodded and paid the man for his services then steeled himself to face Cora. She was looking out the window as he slipped from the back room. Her dark green–striped dress looked pretty with her auburn hair, which was pulled back from her face and hanging in tight coils down her shoulders. The dress's color almost matched her pine-green eyes. She must have sensed him because she turned, and he noticed she was holding his hat.

“Jack!” She rushed to his side. “How are you? Does it hurt badly?”

He shrugged. “I'm all right, so don't worry.”

“Let's get you home and off your feet. You need to rest and let that wound heal. I'll bring you some chicken soup later on.” She reached out and touched his shirt, which was stained with his blood. “I nearly fainted when I saw your head so bloody.”

“I can't go home. There's something I have to do.”

Her eyes widened. “You can't be serious. You were just badly injured. You could have died.”

He would've rolled his eyes if he wasn't afraid that it would cause more pain to his head. “Cora, it's not the first time I've been hurt and won't be the last. Don't coddle me.”

She ducked her head, rolling the brim of his hat. “Someone needs to. You sure don't take care of yourself.”

He wasn't sure if she referred to the fact that he only knew how to cook beans and ate them most nights, except for when he was invited to someone's home. Or if it was because he slept outside on hot nights as he'd done so often during his days as a circuit-riding preacher.

She blew out a breath. “You need to go home and rest, Jack.”

“I can't. I told you, I have something important to do.”

She pursed her lips, drawing his gaze. “And just what is so important?”

He reckoned he'd need her help with the boys when he got them back to town, and he could use another person's opinion. He waved toward a chair. Since the doc's office was empty, he didn't figure the man would care if they talked there.

Cora tucked down her brow but took a seat. Jack took the one next to her, turned to face her, and told her about Mr. Beatty. The closer he got to the end of the tale, the more her eyes widened. Her skin paled so that the small smattering of freckles that spread across the top of her nose and spilled onto her cheeks stood out.

“Those poor children. We've got to find them.”

“There's no
we
in this. I'm going alone.”

“But what if those boys are scared of you? You're a big man, Jack—and a stranger to them. Don't you think you'd have better luck if I went with you? I think a woman's touch is needed in this situation. And you'll need a buggy anyway to bring the boys back to town.”

He hadn't thought about that, although he reckoned he could borrow a horse from the livery for the boys to ride. But if they had much gear …

And maybe a woman's touch wasn't such a bad idea. Though used to doing things himself, he wasn't good with children. He'd pretty much avoided them since riding off and leaving his two kid sisters with their grandpa. He clenched his teeth, preferring not to think of those troubling days. He had more immediate issues.

“I don't know what I'm facing there, but I don't see how it could be dangerous. I guess it would be all right for you to go along.”

Cora straightened and beamed; then she hopped to her feet. “I'll go pack some food for the boys while you see to the buggy. Just go around back of the house and hitch Dolly to it.” She turned to go then paused. “Are you sure you're feeling up to going?”

“I
have
to go. I feel partly responsible that those boys no longer have a father.”

Cora's expression hardened. “I'll not listen to such words, Jack Jensen. You tried to help that man—Abel Comstock stopped by and told me what happened and said he'd keep your sack of food until you could pick it up. It's not your fault some of the men in this town resorted to vigilante justice.”

She was right. But he still couldn't forget Mr. Beatty's horrified expression when he realized he'd been shot and was dying. Jack had promised to see to the man's children, and he meant to do so.