The Sister and the Sinner (9 page)

"You just left her there? In the middle of that God-forsaken territory? On her own!"

J.D. closed his eyes and said it for the fourth time, at least. "Father, I had to take care of the other situation -"

"Yes, the claim jumpers, or so you told me. And how is it that you let them get the jump on you? I thought you were better than that. But after you settled them, why didn't you return for the girl?"

"Things were... complicated," J.D. tried to explain. How could he confess to bedding a nun? His father would hate him... maybe even as much as he hated himself.

"You have to go and get her." His father stood over him, towering above him only because J.D. was seated. When they were toe to toe, neither one could claim the advantage.

Going to her was exactly what he wanted to do... but he had to stop thinking of himself first, and consider what was best for her. Maybe she had been able to put the pieces of her life back together. Maybe it was better if she thought of him as an outlaw, and not an honest man... maybe she no longer dreamed dreams that included him.

He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. His father was going to hound him until he all the facts. Then the older man tried a different tactic, one J.D. had not even considered.

"What if she is carrying my grandchild, son? You have to go to her, to see if she is all right, and bring her back."

Fear struck him mute, terror for what might happen to his Mary Francis. Then hope sprang up to fill the endless void. What if she were with child? His child!

"Yes, Papa, I'll go to her. But I might be a while. Her beloved - the woman who raised her - is gravely ill. I don't think she'll want to leave her side."

"Bring her here, my boy. And the nurse, too. She can have round the clock care from the finest physicians. This is the first woman I've ever seen you moon over. I want to meet her within the week. No excuses."

Well, J.D. had one excuse his father couldn't argue with. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a migraine building behind his eyes. "She's a nun," J.D. confessed quietly.

His father had no better relationship with the Almighty than he did, but the senior Cartwright looked thunderstruck. Complete silence filled the handsome office, until the distant ringing of a church bell broke the spell. His father went to the desk and uncorked the cut glass decanter, pouring a shot of fine Irish whiskey for each of them.

"Well, then," he said. "I guess neither of us will be seeing your mother in Heaven."

* * *

When J.D. finally made it back to Dakota Territory, to the little convent outside of Deadwood, he would have hardly recognized it. Even though he'd paid the local population to come work for the convent, they had gone so far above and beyond the call of duty that it humbled him. The exterior of the convent sported a new coat of white wash, the window sashes had been painted a handsome shade of green. The grounds were immaculate and tastefully landscaped, with a trim little brick wall enclosure and a wrought iron gate. J.D. paused a moment to take it all in, wandering around to the back to see her vegetable patch, where it had all begun, then practically ran up the path to the back door, only to be stopped short.

The door was locked now. He took a step back and knocked impatiently.

The door was answered by someone he didn't know, and he was a bit taken aback by that fact.

"Yes?"

"I'm here to see Sister Mary Francis and Mother Agnes."

The austere woman, who was wearing a nun's habit, allowed him in but said coolly, "And your name is?"

He smiled broadly. "Tell her that J.D. Holt is here to see her."

"Wait here."

He wasn't much for taking orders, and so as soon as the unfamiliar nun turned her back, he vaulted up the stairs and opened the door to the room he had once shared with Mary Francis. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that it wasn't really her room. Now someone else occupied it, and she was sent into a squealing fit at his intrusion.

He backed out, slamming the door, and bolted into Mother Agnes's room.

And that's where he found her.

She was sitting in a chair beside the bed, reading to the Reverend Mother from the Bible. She looked the same, and yet... different. Something, he couldn't quite put his finger on... her hair was longer, perhaps. Her hair! It was uncovered! It had grown a little, for now it nearly touched her shoulders, although it would have looked longer if it hadn't been so curly. Gone were all the robes and garments of a nun, for instead she wore a simple blue calico dress and a black apron. Her face was serene, possessing a calmness and joy of spirit he had not noticed before. He felt strangely bereft, as though his Mary Francis had disappeared and left a stranger in her place.

He fudged for something to say, and coming up empty, he crossed to the other side of Mother Agnes's bed and enfolded one of her hands in his. "How is she doing?" he asked Mary Francis.

"She is dying. It won't be long now," Mary Francis said. Although he knew she loved the woman with all her heart, there were no tears on her eyelashes. Mary Francis had done her grieving and now had come to terms with her reverend mother's passing.

"I'm sorry." He knew it sounded lame and ineffectual, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. And then, because it was true, he added, "Everything seems different."

"Yes. A great benefactor - or benefactress - has been very kind. At first I thought it was you, trying to assuage your guilt. But the gifts continued, well beyond your means. I have no idea who might have sent them.

He shook his head. His Mary Francis seemed too controlled, too mature. He never should have left! Maybe, he should not have returned. He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway. "It was me. Maybe I was trying to "assuage a guilty conscience". But I did it for you, to show you what I couldn't say with words. I loved you, Mary Francis.

She'd long since convinced herself that it couldn't possibly have been him. She chuckled softly. "Surely you don't mean that? You were covered in grime and the clothes you were wearing were barely rags - how could you possibly have afforded to do all of this?"

"Because I'm not who you think I am; I meant to tell you that before I left. J.D. Holt is just the name I use when I work on a case for the Pinkertons."

"You're a detective?"

"Sometimes, but I don't really have to work."

Mary Francis was confused. Didn't everyone have to work?

J.D. could see he was muddling this up royally, just like he had before he'd left. "I told you my father was a gold miner all his life, remember? Well, what I left out was that he struck it rich when I was in my late teens. My real last name is Cartwright."

For the first time since he'd returned, Mary Francis looked unnerved. She even chewed her lower lip in that fashion that had come to be so familiar. She rose and went to stare out of the window. Everyone knew of the Cartwright gold strike! Surely it meant something even to one who had been as sheltered as she had!

"Why did you return?" she asked, although it sounded like there were tears in her voice. He wished she'd turn around and face him. He studied her slight form, recognizing the familiar curves through her calico dress, and wondering if she might be carrying his child.

"Why aren't you a nun anymore?"

Her head drooped. He dreaded what he expected her to say, that she'd been expelled. That because of his actions, she would never fulfill her dreams. Instead, she uttered a confession that completely bowled him over. "I never was a nun."

He took a step into the room, then stopped himself. He was furious! Angry enough to flay her bottom even worse than he had before! But... if she wasn't a nun, then she was free to marry! But did she love him? Why was she hiding from him?

Maybe he could make her love him.

"Are you carrying my child?"

"What if I am? You left. You had no intention to settling down. You should not have returned."

"I left, because I thought you were a nun! And, because I had to catch Higgens and his gang so they could stand trial. But I would have returned sooner, if I'd thought there was a chance. But you lied to me! What else did you lie about?"

She whirled around, her face ashen and tear-stained. "How dare you talk to me about lying?" she whispered. "You, who let me think you were the worst sort of man, an outlaw!"

"Jake?"

It was a thin, high voice that rose from the bed. Their argument halted as they turned their attention on the dying woman.

"I'm here, Mother," J.D. soothed, not feeling in the least hypocritical for leaving off the "Agnes". If it made her happy to think he was her son, then he was going to feel damned blessed by it.

"Came back. Came back." A tear leaked out of the old woman's eye. She beckoned him to lean over her, but Katie could hear what she said with her dying breath just as clearly as J.D. did.

"Take Mary Francis. Take my darling Mary Francis. She's been like a daughter to me."

J.D. clasped the old woman's hand in his, answering fervently, "I intend to, Mother. I intend to."

And with that, she breathed her last, and Mary Francis collapsed atop the woman who had been her surrogate mother in a dead faint.

* * *

J.D. insisted on making all of the arrangements, taking over everything from Mary Francis that he could. It surprised him to no end that, as ignored as the plight of the little convent had been during Mother Agnes' life, in her death everyone and their brother came out of the woodwork to pay their respects - most especially when they learned who it was that knew her, namely him. All of the town dignitaries attended both her wake and her funeral, even though it was a very long, Roman Catholic ceremony.

As she was no longer a novice - for J.D. had been enlightened on that matter - Mary Francis could not sit with the sisters for the funeral. He didn't mind, for he kept his arm about her shoulders protectively, warding off any would-be suitors by his glower alone.

He stood with her at the gravesite, and waited as Mary Francis laid a bouquet of roses and a rosary atop the simple pine wood coffin. Then he escorted her back to the convent.

"It's time," he said. "Gather your things. You're coming back with me."

"You don't own me," she said stiffly. "You have no right to order me around."

"I do so. The baby is mine, and you know it!"

"Hush!" Mary Francis glanced at the shocked expressions on the nuns' faces. "I don't even know for certain that I'm pregnant," she whispered.

"But you might be... and it's been over two months... which means you haven't... you didn't... you must be," he stammered awkwardly, not sure how to discuss a woman's monthly - or lack thereof - with a group of nuns listening in.

"We don't have anything to build a life together," Mary Francis insisted. "I lied, you lied... what we had wasn't real."

"It was more real than anything I've ever felt before or since. And I'd stake my life on it, that it was just as real for you."

She trembled, chewing that poor lower lip again, and he knew he'd won. He took two steps to close the gap between them and enfolded her in his embrace. He kissed her, full on the mouth, and chuckled at the scurry of wool as the nuns hustled to leave the room. Then he deepened the kiss, just in case Mary Francis forgot what they had once shared.

Her lips parted on a sigh and she melted into him. Suddenly, it was as if he had never left. She was his, completely, body and soul, and he was humbled. No one could have given him a greater gift. If it took the rest of his life, he would try to make himself worthy of her.

Mary Francis stopped him, placing her delicate fingers upon his lips. "I'd like to ask you a favor, sir," she said.

"Anything. If it is in my power to grant it, it is yours."

"My full name is Katherine Mary Francis Geraud. 'Mary Francis' would have been my Catholic name, had I chosen the religious life. I'd like to ask you to call me by my first name, shortened, of course. When I was a little girl, Mother Agnes called me 'Katie'."

"Katie it is," he agreed, sealing it with a kiss.

"Perhaps we should take a room in the hotel? I don't think you'd be welcome to stay here," she said.

J.D. helped her to gather up her things - Mother Agnes's Bible, her own rosary and crucifix, and a quilt that she had made by her own hand. She hugged each of the new sisters farewell, laughing and weeping tears of joy. They embraced her, and prayed with her, wishing all of God's blessings upon her.

And with that, she allowed J.D. Cartwright, bachelor extraordinaire, heir to the gigantic, multi-million dollar Cartwright fortune to escort her out of the convent where she had grown up, where she had learned to say her prayers and scrimp and save and be thankful for what little she had, into a very new, very, very different life.

Chapter Eight

A few days later, Katie was sitting quietly in her potential father-in-law's office. The red velvet and mahogany opulence was intimidating, but Katie simply perched there, with J.D. next to her, grinning like a fool. She had not let him buy her an extravagant wardrobe as he had repeatedly offered. She had gone into a no-name mercantile in downtown Bismarck, without him, and had chosen an alarmingly modestly priced dress off the rack that was probably the most dowdy thing he had ever seen on a woman in his life, including her robes and the outfit she had worn leaving the convent.

But she would not be dissuaded. And he knew his father. Although John Cartwright Senior had come to enjoy the finer things in life in his latter years, he certainly did still appreciate a bargain - and his son appreciated the startled look in his father's eyes when he got a look at his gorgeous prospective bride in that cheap outfit.

Despite the fact that he was a bit taken aback by her presentation, he knew a gem in the rough when he saw it at least as well as J.D. did. And he certainly liked the fact that she had absolutely no compunction to fill every silence with chitter chatter, like so many women - young and old - did. Yes, he was going to enjoy having her for a daughter-in-law, he could tell, if he could just get his son to get a move on in that direction!