Mary Connealy (12 page)

“I’m not asking about believing in God.” Sally tugged on his hand as she half walked, half skipped along beside him. “Everyone does that. I just don’t know why we have to go to church.”

“Well, you’re wrong about everyone believing in God, Sally. When I was younger, I went through a spell when I was too big for my britches. I wrangled with my pa something fierce.” Clay wondered at how comfortable he was talking to the cheerful little girl. He’d never done much talking when it was just him and pa sitting around a campfire.

Sally’s eyes opened wide with fear. “You fought with your pa?”

Clay wondered why that scared her. He shrugged and went on jabbering. “There were lots of little fights when I got to thinking I was too much of a man to take orders from anybody. After my first real big blow-up with pa, I struck out on my own. That’s when I learned there were folks who didn’t believe in God.”

“Those poor people.”

Clay almost grinned. “The truth is I felt kinda sorry for them myself. Anyway, I was fourteen when I took off that first time. I was nearly six feet tall, and I’d been working a man’s job since I was eight, so I didn’t see anything wrong with making my own way.”

“When you were fourteen?” Sally gasped.

“Yep.”

“Mandy is ten; that’s only four years from now.”

Clay almost stumbled when he thought about his little girl going off and leaving him so soon. Then he shook his head to clear it. “Girls are different. Mandy isn’t going anywhere for a long time.”

“So what did you do after you left your pa?” Sally stood aside as Clay began slapping leather on his Appaloosa.

“I hunted grub and worked for a meal time to time. By the time I reached Cheyenne, I’d calmed down and went home.” The truth was he’d been so homesick for Pa and the mountains, he’d signed on with a cattle drive heading into Montana and meandered home.

“I lived in unsettled places where there wasn’t any church, and now that I have a chance to go worship with people, I’m looking forward to it.” Clay talked with Sally as he saw to the meager chores and made note of some sagging fence posts and a couple of barn doors hanging from one hinge.

“We don’t like Mosqueros much,” Sally said.

“Why not?” Clay barely listened to her as he looked at the neglected ranch. It would have to wait until he got a handle on the cattle and ranch land. There were several spots he wanted to dam up on the creek before the spring rains quit, and then he had to get to the fence. He stretched his battered muscles and felt the strength of his back. He loved the life he’d gotten himself into.

Sally said, “I reckon it’s ’cuz we’re Yankees.”

Clay suppressed a smile. He knew of the lingering hatred some people were capable of, and it sobered him to think of some of the cruelty his wife and daughters had no doubt been subjected to while Cliff was gone fighting. But everyone in town had been very friendly to him yesterday. His new family just hadn’t been to town in a while.

He couldn’t think of what to say to reassure her. Then he thought of those girls alternately crying and giggling at him at the same time, he already loved them. They scared him to death! So he thought he ought to head off another bout of tears. All he could think of to say was, “Don’t you worry yourself about it. I’ll take care of you.”

Sally smiled uncertainly, and they both turned back to the chores. She was eager to do any little task for him, and although she actually slowed him down, he enjoyed being with her. When he was nearly done he said, “You better run on back to the house and get on your Sunday dress.”

With wide, solemn eyes, Sally said, “But this is the only dress I have.”

Clay looked at the bedraggled little dress, neatly patched but worn as thin as parchment paper. His family needed to do some shopping. “Well, go on and clean up anyway. Your ma will want to find the pretty face under all that dirt.”

Sally giggled and gave him a big hug. Her soft, little arms were a wonder to him as he hoisted her up in the air to hug her tight. She ran off to the house, giggling some more. As he headed back in to gather his women, he slowed a bit as he thought of the house full of their giggling and the sudden way they had of bursting into tears. He wondered ruefully if he’d ever get used to them. Then he remembered their beautiful blue eyes and all that long, golden hair and Sally’s soft, generous hugs and how they all seemed to adore him. And he remembered Sophie’s warmth and hurried his step.

He was looking forward to going to town.

The thought of going to town made her sick.

Sophie thought of the evil eyes of the man who had come to her house in the thicket last night and wondered if she would run into him in Mosqueros. She thought of that arrogant sheriff and the greasy banker, and she dreaded town so much, she felt goose bumps break out on her body.

Clay hadn’t even asked her if she wanted to go. The Edwards family had never attended church! Cliff hadn’t cared for Parson Roscoe when they’d first moved here, Cliff being a staunch Episcopalian and Parson Roscoe coming from a Methodist persuasion. The small town she’d lived near in Pennsylvania had one church building and a circuit rider, like so many other small towns. Sophie’s family had worshiped with everyone else in town, paying little heed to the denomination of the parson.

She’d tried to go to church in Mosqueros for a while, after Cliff had left for the war. But by then there’d been such hostility toward her and the girls, Sophie couldn’t bear it. She’d found a firm champion in Parson Roscoe though.

They didn’t announce it around town, but he and his wife had made their parsonage in South Carolina available as a stopover for the Underground Railroad, before they felt God call them to a frontier ministry. They’d been here five years before the Edwardses. But Sophie firmly believed that God had put the Roscoes in Mosqueros as a direct answer to prayers she wouldn’t begin praying until many years later.

She wiped dry the last of the breakfast dishes, then with apprehension churning in her belly, she turned her attention toward preparing for church. Getting ready herself was easy. She owned one decent dress. She had it on. There were two others, but they were out of the question. She’d butchered a deer in one last night. Even though she covered it with an apron, that one was so awful she wouldn’t think of wearing it out in public. And her other dress was the huge one she wore for her disguise. There was enough fabric in it to make dresses for all three older girls, providing she could get the Hector stink out of it.

She let her hair out of the braid she’d slept in, combed it smooth, then rebraided it and coiled it into a neat bun at the base of her neck. She went from one girl to the other, fixing the hair of each, although Laura didn’t need much fixing with her little cap of white blond curls. Mandy had tried to braid Sally’s hair. The braid was a little lopsided, and too many hairs had escaped for it to be suitable for church, so Sophie quickly tidied it, complimenting Mandy on her efforts and giving pointers at the same time. Mandy was learning. With a sigh of contentment, Sophie knew Mandy would be doing more of these little chores every day.

Sophie had put each girl’s hair into a braid with nimble fingers and began tying a pink ribbon into Beth’s hair.

Mandy shouted, “It’s
my
turn to wear the pink ribbon!”

Beth gasped so loud it was almost a screech. She whirled around so fast she whipped Sally in the eye with her braid. “It is not your turn! It’s mine!”

“My eye!” Sally squealed. She grabbed for her eye and wailed at the top of her lungs, “You hurt my eye!”

Beth ignored Sally and kept at Mandy, “You got to wear it for Christmas! That’s the last time we got dressed up, and you wore the pink ribbon!”

Laura, up until now sitting on the floor contentedly watching her sisters, started crying in sympathy with Sally.

Mandy balled up her fists at her sides. “It was not Christmas! It was that night Parson Roscoe came out to visit. We got all dressed up, and Sally wore that ribbon. She’s the youngest. We go oldest to youngest, so your turn must have been before that. It’s my turn!”

Mandy reached for Beth’s hair, and Beth slapped her hand.

“Sally, let me see your eye.” Sophie added sharply, “Girls, don’t fight! Mandy, it’s Eliz…” Sally backed up, sobbing and wiping at her eye. Mandy and Beth were wrestling with each other and screaming to raise the dead. Sally knocked into Sophie, and Sophie staggered backward and would have fallen, except strong hands were there to catch her. She looked behind her as she was set back on her feet. Clay.

Mandy got her hands on the pink ribbon and, not purely coincidentally, one of Beth’s braids. The screaming reached the point where it could make ears bleed.

Clay roared into the chaos, “Quiet! Every one of you girls, be—quiet—right—now!”

Dead silence fell on the room. The girls all looked at Clay, and after a few seconds of shock, Sally started crying. “Don’t you love us anymore, Pa?”

Elizabeth started crying next. “I didn’t mean to be so naughty!” She buried her face in her hands and wept. After a few seconds she reached back and dragged the pink ribbon out of her hair and tossed it at Mandy. “Here—” she said brokenly, “take the stupid—ugly ribbon—if you want it—so bad!”

The ribbon hit Mandy in the chest, but she didn’t even try and catch it. Instead tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Pa. I didn’t mean to make you stop loving us. Don’t leave us. Please!” Mandy’s voice cracked. With a sudden burst of grief that almost sounded like a scream, she whirled away from all of them and dashed out the door, crying.

Laura tottered toward Sophie, who was studying the drama calmly. Sophie curled up one corner of her mouth, shook her head, then she picked Laura up.

“Enough, girls,” she snapped. “We’re going to be late for church!”

“Don’t yell at them!” Clay grabbed her arm and spun her around.

She wanted to snarl at him for grabbing at her like that, but she held her tongue when she saw the stricken look on his face, as he looked from her to each of the sobbing girls and, with complete panic, looked to the door.

“I’d better go after her! She could get hurt running around so upset.” Clay hurried out the door, looking backward fearfully.

Once he got out, Sophie turned back to the girls. Beth was still sniffing a bit, but she was already tying the pink ribbon in her hair with a faintly satisfied air.

Sophie said, “Next time is Mandy’s turn, and don’t any of you forget it! Now Sally, it’s your turn for the blue ribbon. Come over here.”

Sophie had them all ready in just a few minutes. She found Clay in a near panic, searching for Mandy. Sophie told him to ready the horses. He seemed eager to obey her. Sophie rousted Mandy out of the barn hayloft, a favorite hidey-hole since she was little. She tied the yellow ribbon in Mandy’s hair and plunked her on the horse. The six of them rode double on the two horses and Hector and headed for town.

Clay carried Sally in front of him. Mandy rode double with Beth in complete harmony. Sophie carried Laura like a papoose on her back.

Sophie rode beside Clay. Companionably she nodded at Beth and Mandy, riding slightly ahead on Hector’s broad back. “It’s certainly easier to get the girls ready for church since they got older. Going to town used to be a real struggle.”

“It used to be harder than this?” Clay asked in a horrified whisper.

Sophie arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, of course. I had three girls under five years of age at one time. My goodness, it was a battle getting them all dressed and keeping them clean until we’d get to town.”

Clay gave Sophie a wild-eyed look. She had no idea what he was so upset about. He shuddered slightly and spurred his horse into a trot. Sophie shrugged and increased her own speed to keep up with him. Clay treated them all like they were part sidewinder and part crystal, afraid they’d bite or break if he made a single wrong move.

Go figure men.

T
he trail to Mosqueros passed the thicket where they’d lived. Sophie looked at the familiar little path. A shiver of fear ran up her spine. She jerked back on the reins so suddenly her horse reared. So much had happened since the night she’d seen Judd, Eli, and the other man, she’d forgotten to tell Clay that the men who had killed Cliff had been chasing him. They’d called him a horse thief. They’d spoken of hangings. She wheeled her horse around to where Clay lagged behind them. He was immediately alert.

Mandy and Beth were ahead of them, but there sat Sally, enjoying the ride she was getting from her new pa. Sophie hesitated. Clay said, “What?”

She shook her head sharply at him, just as Sally looked up from petting the horse. Sophie couldn’t baldly announce, in front of her little girl, that men were looking for Clay to kill him.

Sophie immediately wiped the concern from her expression. “I was just thinking about the old place.”

Clay caught her hint that what she wanted to say was best said away from the children. His eyes had that narrow, dangerous look about them, and his already cautious way of watching a trail became even more careful.

Sophie dropped back beside him. “I should tell you about life in that place sometime, Clay.”