Spirit of the Valley (29 page)

Chapter Forty-Eight

Lizzie woke in the pitch dark, mentally and emotionally dulled from the beating, wine, and the headache powder she'd consumed. She'd been in so much pain earlier, she hadn't expected to sleep, but she had. Now, disoriented and laden with fear, she began to rise until a wave of nausea engulfed her and she had to wait for it to pass. When it did, she lit the lamp and got up. One hand outstretched, pausing often to catch her breath, she made her way to the children's room, but they weren't there.
Because they are with Cessie and April May
, she remembered. They were safe. Unless Ethan was still lurking somewhere.

She noticed the light from the kitchen. Her heart began beating harder as she made her way there. Just as she'd hoped and prayed, Jeremy was sitting in his place with his back to her. A piece of paper and pencil were in front of him, as if he was prepared to write a letter. “You're here,” she uttered.

“I killed him,” he stated in a flat voice without turning to look at her.

She exhaled with relief and continued to the table. She pulled back a chair and sat, but Jeremy wasn't looking at her. He was staring straight ahead, glassy eyed and expressionless. She felt shaken in a different way, and certainly not because Ethan was dead. Perhaps she'd be damned to hell for it, but it was a great relief. If he weren't dead, she would be. It was only a question of when. The fear she felt was because of the way Jeremy looked. Somehow she'd lost him. He'd saved her, but was lost because of it. “I'm sorry,” she said in a shaky whisper. “It was my fault.”

He looked at her and cringed to see her face, but then his expression grew angry. “Why do you say that? None of it was your fault. Men . . . stinking, rotten, violent men. It's
their
fault! A man hurt you, so he's to blame. I just killed the son of a bitch, so I'm to blame.
You
are not to blame. And Jenny wasn't to blame, although I was angry at her for a long time.” He bowed his head. “Oh God, Lizzie, I have to go.”

She gripped the table and yet she still reeled. “What do you mean,
go
?” she asked breathlessly. “Go where?”

“Doesn't matter,” he muttered.

She shook her head, even though it hurt, and she clutched his hand. “No! I won't let you go.”

He looked at her with remorse. “It'll be better for everyone.”

“That's not true. Please. I'm sorry for what happened. I thought . . . I'd have some warning. I bought a gun. I was going to protect myself and the children, but . . . I didn't know he was there until—”

He withdrew his hand from her grip. “You're going to be fine now. He can't hurt you anymore.”

Panic clawed her insides. “I won't be fine if you leave!”

“I don't belong here.”

His calmness made her feel like screaming. “Yes, you do. We were happy.”

“The truth is, I'm a murderer. You want a murderer around your children?”

“You are not a murderer, and I want
you
. I love you!” Pain filled his eyes, but it was better than emptiness. Better than his determination to leave. “Please, love me enough to stay.”

“Don't you get it? It's because I love you that I have to go. I don't want you or the kids to have to live with seeing me hanged. I know you. You'll blame yourself.”

“You won't be hanged,” she pleaded. “It was self-defense. April May saw it.”

He shook his head. “Everyone knows she'd say or do anything to protect you. I can't put you or the kids through it.”

She was getting nowhere. His mind was made up. She was going to lose him. “I'll follow you,” she declared. “We'll follow you wherever you go.”

“Stop it, Lizzie. Just stop it.”

“I will,” she swore. “I won't let you go.”

“Your face,” he said, grieving.

She knew she looked atrocious. She'd seen herself in the mirror earlier.

“C'mon,” he said, rising. “You need to go lie down.”

“No.” If she went back to sleep now, he'd be gone when she awoke. The only man she'd ever loved or ever would love would be gone. “You want to convince me you're not a good man, but you're the man who showed up on a rainy evening offering to help me.”

“Because I couldn't get you out of my mind, not from the first time I saw you. I wanted to make love to you. More than anything. It's all I thought about. Don't go thinking I'm noble for showing up here.”

He was slipping away. “You're the man who got Jake back to sleep after his nightmare. The man he felt safe enough to talk to.”

Jeremy flinched. “Don't do that.”

“The man who found Lucky for the kids. And who was so patient with Rebecca, even when she was unspeakably rude.”

“She had reason.”

“Yes, but
you
weren't the reason. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” She reached for his hand and kissed it.

“Lizzie, stop.”

“I love you,” she said, looking up at him.

“You shouldn't.”

There was so much pain in his face. “I know how you see yourself, but it's not how I see you. I see a man with honor and strength and passion, a man who'd give his life to protect his family. To protect us. I want that protection. I want it for me, for Rebecca, Jake, and for all the children we will have.”

He bowed his head and a shaky breath escaped him.

“Don't you want me? Don't you want our children?”

“Lizzie,” he breathed.

She placed her hands on the sides of his face, loving him so much it hurt. “Look at me. Please. I want you to see what I feel.”

He looked at her. “Just think about what it would do to the kids if—”

She cut off his words by pressing a kiss to his lips. Pulling back, she said, “We are going to be fine. We're going to have a life together.”

He pulled her into his arms and they clung to one another with all their might. “It's all I want,” he murmured. “It's all I want.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

Jeremy walked to the Blues' the next morning with a sense of peace he hadn't known in years. The decision was made; he was marrying Lizzie, and together they would make their way. It was possible he would be arrested and tried, but he had shot Ray in self-defense. For now, he'd have faith. Faith in the love he'd found and faith in the truth. He'd lived without hope for a lot of years, but hope and faith felt good. The bakery, as it turned out, wanted Lizzie's baked goods and her expertise, and she was glad about it. She had to heal first, but she was ready for the venture.

As for him, his old life was gone. In fact, his old lives were gone. The men at the mine, some of them good friends, were gone. Even Marie was going, getting married to Walt Davis. He was glad for that. In the end, she'd tried to do the right thing, but the fact that she'd known Ethan Ray had been told of Lizzie's whereabouts and had not warned him was hard to forgive. What if he hadn't made the afternoon train? What if he hadn't reached Lizzie in time? Had he known Ray had been alerted, he never would have left her in the first place. He didn't wish Marie ill, but he was glad she was leaving.

Once Lizzie was better, he'd find a job. Anything out of doors would suit. He also wanted to try his hand at wine making.

The morning was cold, with a pale sky that promised snow. The light wind that whistled through the barren trees smelled like snow, and he was ready for it. He retrieved his satchel from the place he'd dropped it and continued on to get the children. He heard a horse approaching just before Emmett came into view, riding toward him. The older man lifted his hand in greeting. “I think I got a good solution,” Emmett said as he came close.

“What's that?”

Emmett reached him and dismounted. “Landreth wants to sell the Six.”

Jeremy was stunned by the implied suggestion.

“Howerton offered to buy it, but Landreth said he'd rot in hell first. He hates Smythe just about as much. Truth is, he'll let it go for a lot less to anyone other than his former competitors.”

“What are you saying?”

“The mine is going to be bought and restarted. There's just too much money in coal for that not to happen. And Six was a productive mine. What if—”

Jeremy shook his head. “Oh no.”

“Now, just hear me out. Someone could buy the mine and run it right. Build it safer, not that a mine can ever be completely safe. We both know better. But he could treat the miners fairly. Pay them better. Pay them in cash. Have medical care available. Better housing.”

Jeremy's expression slowly changed as he considered what Emmett was saying.

“Not only that, but the man who did that could make sure children didn't work. That they went to school. I've got this theory that workers who are treated better will be better workers.” He paused, but Jeremy didn't say anything. “I can try to broker a deal. Keep your name out of it, if you want.”

“The families that lost someone should be helped,” Jeremy said.

Emmett nodded. “Why don't you let me see what I can arrange? About buying the place. Rebuilding. Compensating the families of the lost miners.”

Jeremy didn't know what to say. Emmett was still acting as if this was Jeremy's money. “I think it's a good plan, but it's not my money. I trust you to do what's right. I like the plan.”

“Okay, then. I'll see what I can find out and report back,” Emmett said with a smile that made his face seem even rounder than usual. He mounted again. “You know, sometimes folks are given a second chance for a reason.”

A second chance? Jeremy shifted on his feet. “Did you hear about Ethan Ray?” he asked.

“In a town this size? What do you think?”

“You think they'll arrest me?”

“For what? He drew on you and you had to shoot him. That's what I heard. That's not a crime.”

“You're sure?”

“The law is my business. I'm sure.”

Jeremy felt himself deflate with relief.

“How's Lizzie?” Emmett asked.

“She'll be fine.”

“With a man like you to look out for her? You bet she will. Give her my best?”

“I will. Thank you, Emmett. For everything.”

“You bet.” Ethan tipped his hat to Jeremy and rode back toward town.

Jeremy walked in the side door to the kitchen of the farmhouse and heard group singing from the parlor.
“Do Lord, oh, do Lord, oh, do remember me.”
He set his bag down and walked on. Before he reached the parlor, the song had morphed into
“It's me, it's me, it's me, oh Lord, standing in the need of prayer.”

Rebecca was seated next to April May, who had her arm wrapped around the girl, and Cessie held Jake, who was dressed in an old-fashioned nightshirt that was too big for him. A blanket was draped over their laps. April May's hair was bound loosely and Cessie, still wearing a dressing robe, wore her hair loose. A fire was burning in the hearth and all three dogs were stretched out in front of it.

The singing stopped and they all looked at him expectantly, half fearful. He smiled to relieve their anxiety and he felt the collective sigh of relief. “Ready to go home?” he asked the children. “Your Mama's anxious to see you.”

Jake started crying and buried his face against Cessie's shoulder. Cessie held him tighter and kissed his head.

“I told you she was fine,” April May said tenderly. “A little banged up is all, but she'll be good as new before you know it. Isn't that right?” she said, directing the question to Jeremy.

“It is,” he said as he walked in and sat in an overstuffed chair. “She's going to be just fine. Did you know the bakery wants to buy her stuff?”

Rebecca smiled, although tears shone in her eyes. She was fighting hard to keep them in check. “They do?”

He nodded and saw Jake peek out at him. “You ready to go home?” he asked the boy. “You ready, Lucky?” he said to the dog, who stood up at once.

“You know,” April May said, “that's a pretty sharp dog.”

“He barked,” Jake said to Jeremy.

“I know,” Jeremy said. “I was glad to hear it.”

“He went to protect Mama.”

Jeremy nodded. It was hard to know exactly what to say. Everything he thought of to say seemed wrong, since the “bad man” had been their father. Maybe it was best not to say anything. “Let's go home.”

“Jake—” Rebecca started with a sheepish look on her face.

She was about to say he'd wet the bed and had no clothes to wear. “Jake's fine as he is,” Jeremy said, rising. He picked the boy up and Cessie made sure the blanket went as well. “He can get dressed when he's home. I don't want to wait.” As Jeremy turned, he didn't miss the pleased expression on April May's face.

“I'll get our coats,” Rebecca said, popping up.

He turned back to the ladies, who were rising. “Saying thank you isn't enough,” he said quietly.

Cessie patted his arm. “It isn't necessary at all.”

 

 

Lizzie was dressed and sitting in the kitchen, which smelled like cookies and freshly made coffee. Half a dozen gingerbread men were laid out to cool on the table. Jeremy set Jake down, and Rebecca and her brother stood frozen momentarily, taking in the black eye, cut lip, and bruised face of their mother.

“I'm not the prettiest thing,” Lizzie said, “but I'm all right.”

The children rushed forward and she opened her arms to embrace them, kissing one and then the other. Lucky tagged along, wagging his tail.

Jeremy got a cup of coffee and went to sit at the table. Rebecca was wiping away the tears that embarrassed her. Lizzie had pulled Jake into her lap. “Who wants to decorate gingerbread men?” she asked.

“I do,” Jake said.

Lizzie kissed him again. “After you get dressed.”

He nodded, got down, and ran off.

“He wet the bed again,” Rebecca said quietly. “And he had a nightmare and woke up screaming.”

“It'll go away,” Jeremy said. “It got better before and it will again.”

Rebecca looked at him. “What happened to my father?” she asked guardedly.

“He's gone,” Jeremy said solemnly.

“Is he dead?”

Lizzie stiffened.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied calmly.

“Did you kill him?”

“Rebecca,” Lizzie admonished.

“I did,” Jeremy said. “We fought. He drew on me, but I drew faster.”

Rebecca had locked her gaze with Jeremy's. “I think I'll call you Papa,” she said.

He swallowed, surprised by the statement. “That'd make me proud.”

“I'll check on Jake.” With great dignity, Rebecca started for the door.

Lizzie watched in amazement. It felt as if her child had aged years overnight.

At the door, the girl turned back. “You're wrong about one thing, though,” she said to her mother.

“What?”

“You are the prettiest thing ever.”

Touched by the words, Lizzie smiled and Rebecca returned it. In fact, she glowed with it.