Daughter of Joy (25 page)

“Stop it!” Abby shoved her way between the two men. “Stop it at once.”

Devlin froze. “Get out of the way,” he growled. “You brought this on, you know. Now stand aside and deal with the consequences.”

“Yeah,” Evan cried from behind her. “Get out of the way, Abby. Devlin needs a lesson in manners.”

“And you think you’re just the man to do it, are you?” Devlin glared at him over Abby’s shoulder. “Well, maybe you didn’t learn as much as you thought you did this past year.”

“Oh, stop it, I say,” Abby cried in exasperation. “Both of you are acting like two school boys. And neither of you have thought past the ends of your noses. What about the pain you’ll cause Conor,
and
Ella for that matter, if word gets out you two were fighting? I beg of you, don’t force them to take sides.”

“They’d never have had to take sides to begin with,” Devlin muttered, scowling down at her, “if this woman hadn’t come to Culdee Creek.”

“Why can’t you just let it be?” Abby demanded. “Just let it be before you cause her even more pain.”

She knew Ella had talked with him, and that he now realized his wife was aware of his infidelity. It didn’t appear, however, that she’d also been informed of the intimate connection between Devlin and Hannah. Perhaps
that
was the burr that yet chafed beneath his saddle.

At her words, something flickered in Devlin’s eyes. He had guessed, Abby realized, that she spoke now of Ella, rather than of Hannah. His gaze narrowed. His jaw hardened.

“Easy for you to say.” His voice went low, husky, and so very anguished. “Easy for you, after you’ve gone and made everything worse.”

Beneath his anger, Devlin’s fear was almost a palpable thing. Abby knew he feared losing Ella. He also feared the long-term consequences of his actions with Hannah, that her presence now at Culdee Creek represented.

But he also feared an even deeper abandonment and was consumed with self-loathing—a personal abhorrence that Abby now realized permeated his entire life. Whatever horrors he had endured as a child, it would take more than just Ella’s love and understanding to heal.

“There’s nothing that can’t be set aright with love and forgiveness,” Abby whispered, meeting his burning gaze. “Give it to the Lord, Devlin.
Give it to the Lord.
”

He staggered backward, looking as if someone had struck him. Then, with one final searing look, Devlin turned on his heel and stalked away.

“What in the blazes was all that about?” Evan demanded, thoroughly bewildered.

Abby turned. Fleetingly, she locked gazes with Hannah. Though there was no rancor or judgment in her heart against the girl, Abby knew the young woman had guessed the reason for her and Devlin’s hushed interchange.

“It’s nothing, Evan,” Hannah mumbled from the porch, cuddling baby Jackson more tightly to her. “Devlin just doesn’t think I am a good influence to have around, what with the children and ranch hands and all.”

Evan shot her a shy, admiring look. “But you’ve given up those fancy lady ways. Devlin needs to take you at your word, like Abby says. You deserve a second chance like anyone else.”

“Yes, she does,” Abby interjected. “You, though, Evan, need to steer clear of Devlin for the next few days. He’ll get over his animosity toward Hannah in time, if you don’t fan the flames any further.”

“He started it,” he grumbled, shuffling his feet and looking down, “when he started talking to Hannah as mean as he did.”

“And you came to my aid like a knight in shining armor.” Hannah rendered him her brightest smile. “For that, I’m eternally grateful. But Abby’s right. I’m used to unkind words. What matters most is that my presence here doesn’t cause further problems. That, far more than Devlin’s occasional rudeness, could endanger my remaining at Culdee Creek.”

Evan’s eyes widened. “I reckon I hadn’t thought about that. It just goes against my grain, though, to have a man talk disrespectfully to a lady.”

“But you will try your best, won’t you?” Hannah persisted, her voice softening to dulcet, pleading tones, “Please try not to stir up any more trouble with Devlin.”

Few men, Abby realized, watching the pair, could resist Hannah when she turned on the full force of her charm. And Evan was far from mature.

He managed a cocky grin. “For you, ma’am, I’d do anything.”

“Well, I don’t think Hannah will require quite that much of you, Evan.” Abby walked over and took Hannah by the arm. “All she wants is some peace and quiet in which to raise her son. A son,” she added, delicately sniffing the air, “who seems in dire need of a changing.”

Evan’s expression suddenly assumed that darting, eager-to-escape look typical of a man in close vicinity to a baby with a dirty diaper. “Oh, yeah … yeah. Reckon I’d better get back to my chores then.”

“Reckon you’d better,” Abby agreed dryly. She watched him hightail it down to the barn, then turned to Hannah. “Why don’t we take care of Jackson,” she said, motioning toward the baby, “and then have a cup of tea while we talk?”

“Talk?” Hannah’s dark blond brows arched in puzzlement.

“Yes.” Abby gave a firm nod of her head. “Talk.”

“Have you noticed Evan’s decided interest in Hannah of late?” Ella asked three weeks later as she and Abby drove into the outskirts of Grand View. “I hate to stir up a hornet’s nest, but I think he’s falling for her.”

Abby glanced at her friend as she urged the buggy down the dirt street. “So, it’s become apparent to you, too.” She sighed. “Conor apparently hasn’t noticed yet. How about Devlin?”

Ella gave a noncommittal shrug. “Oh, he mutters and grumbles about Evan’s attraction to her, but I think he fears an illicit, physical interest rather than any real affection. What do you think Conor will do once he realizes his son is falling in love with a former prostitute?”

“I don’t think he’ll be pleased,” Abby replied after a moment’s consideration. “It may be the perfect excuse he’s been looking for to run her off.”

“And risk running off Evan, too?” The red-haired woman paused to grab at her bonnet as a passing gust of wind threatened to rip it, ties and all, from her head. “If it should come to that, warn Conor to go slowly. His relationship with his son isn’t totally mended, and Evan’s as fiercely proud and independent a Scotsman as his father.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Abby halted the horse before Gate’s Mercantile. Jumping down, she tied the buggy reins to the hitching post outside the store, then came around to help Ella. “I just hope we can put Evan and Hannah off, if it comes to that. They’re both only eighteen.”

Ella chuckled. “Young love is about as hard to control as a herd of cattle in a thunderstorm. Considering what they’ve been through in their young lives, this almost seems inevitable. They’re both good youngsters at heart. And Evan’s good looks are enough to melt any girl’s resistance, even one as pretty as Hannah.”

She pulled the shopping list from her purse. “Now, no more problems,” Ella ordered, grinning in mischief to soften her words. “Let’s get on with our purchases. We’ve got so much to buy, and only a few hours to do it.”

Abby nodded. “I can’t believe it’s already time to start on my wedding dress. The time surely has flown.”

“You’ve got just over two weeks until the wedding, Abby. Barely enough time to make you a fitting dress.”

“Oh, it doesn’t have to be anything elaborate.” Abby pushed open the mercantile door and walked inside. “It’s not like I’m getting married for the first time, you know.”

Ella followed. “Nonetheless, you’re marrying one of the wealthiest ranchers in the area. Everyone is sure to turn out for the ceremony and reception at church. Conor will want you to look your best.” She took Abby by the arm and pulled her toward the fabric table. Behind them, the front door opened then closed again.

“How about this pale green moiré here?” Ella picked up a bolt of fabric and began to unfurl it. “This color is appropriate for summer, and it would set off your hair and eyes to perfection. We could add a false train that could be removed for later wear, trim the gown with creamy white point Venise lace and matching moiré ribbons, add full sleeves ending in deep elbow frills, then—”

“Ella? Is that y-you?”

At the sound of the unsteady, raspy voice, the slick, shiny fabric dropped from Ella’s hands. The color drained from her face, and her mouth, poised in mid-sentence, slowly closed.

“What is it, Ella?” Abby asked.

Instead of replying to Abby’s query, the red-haired woman slowly, reluctantly turned. She stared at the railthin, gaunt-faced woman who had come up to stand behind them.

A vague unease settled over Abby. The woman looked to be in her early forties and was dressed in a plain brown dress. In her hand, she clutched an equally plain, brown carpetbag. Her lackluster, golden blond hair was pinned up haphazardly, and several locks cascaded down her neck. Her skin was sallow, circles smudged beneath her brown eyes. She appeared haggard and ill.

The expression on Ella’s face belied the fact that this woman was a stranger. The woman smiled in apparent recognition.

“You act as if you’ve seen a ghost, Ella. It’s really me.”

“You … You’re supposed to be dead!” Ella forced the words out. “They told us you’d died.”

The woman gave a wry, self-deprecating laugh. “I may be soon. In the meantime, though, I’m still very much alive. Alive enough to come back and try to set things right.”

Ella shot Abby an uncertain look. Abby stared back, her brow arched in patient inquiry. When no further explanation was forthcoming, Abby decided to take the initiative.

She stepped forward and extended her hand toward the woman. “My name’s Abigail Stanton. I’m Ella’s friend and the housekeeper at Culdee Creek Ranch.”

For a fleeting instant, Abby could’ve sworn shock registered in the woman’s eyes. Then she managed a tight little smile, and accepted her hand in greeting.

“My name’s Sally,” the woman said. “Sally MacKay, the wife of Conor MacKay, Culdee Creek’s owner.”

19

My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the L
ORD
.

Isaiah 55:8

With horror and dismay Abby stared at Sally MacKay, Conor’s first and only wife. Sally … come back from the dead. Sally … still legally wed to Conor, for he’d never divorced her, believing she’d died in that boardinghouse fire.

She swallowed hard, fighting the sudden surge of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. It was over then. All their plans. All her hopes and dreams. She closed her eyes.
Oh, Conor. Conor, my love.

Sally withdrew her hand. “Is … is there something wrong, Abigail? You look as if you might faint any moment.”

Ever so reluctantly, Abby opened her eyes.

Ella rushed to her side. Clasping Abby’s waist, she offered a quick, supportive hug. “Abby’s no more shocked than I am, Sally,” the red-haired woman briskly replied. “We all heard the story of your untimely death. And, if you’ll excuse my bluntness, your sudden and unannounced appearance after all these years would be enough to unsettle anyone.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.” Sally paused to glance around the mercantile. “Did Conor come with you? I’d like to explain to him first. After all these years, I owe him that at least.”

“You owe him a whole passel more than that!” Ella retorted. “He didn’t come with us, though. I suppose you’ll be wanting to ride back with us to the ranch?”

“If that would be all right. I just now arrived on the train and had planned on hiring someone to drive me out. But I’d much prefer riding there with you.” Sally gestured to her carpetbag. “That’s all the belongings I possess, so it shouldn’t add too much to any parcels you might have.”

Ella glanced at Abby. “Well, we had planned on being in town a while.”

“What we had planned,” Abby quickly interjected as freshened pain stabbed through her, “isn’t important now. What matters, Sally, is getting you back to Culdee Creek.”

“How kind of you to say that, Abigail.” Sally smiled. “Conor must be very pleased to have such a thoughtful woman as housekeeper.” She turned to Ella. “That brings to mind one important question. I assume Conor has long ago remarried. Could you tell me his wife’s name, and something about her?”

“Conor hasn’t remarried,” Ella all but snapped in reply. This time, she didn’t even look at Abby.

“Really?” Sally cocked her head.

“Why don’t you bring that up with him?” Ella began to pull a still benumbed Abby behind her. “Let’s just head on back to Culdee Creek. There’s no sense prolonging the suspense of your reunion.”

“No, I suppose not,” the blond-haired woman replied. She walked to her carpetbag and picked it up. “Lead on, then, if you will.”

The ride back to Culdee Creek was one of few words. It was for the best that they didn’t say much, Abby decided as they drove along. What with the chaotic way her own emotions were churning, it would not take much of any well-meant but nervous chatter to set her off.

She tried, as best she could to still her wildly racing thoughts, to quiet her heart and mind and place her trust in the Lord, but it was so hard. The woman crammed into the two-person buggy seat on the other side of Ella was a living symbol of all her dashed dreams, flung onto the sharp, brutal rocks of reality.

Why now? Abby asked herself. If Sally had come back just a month later, she and Conor would have been wed. Yet, even as she lifted the anguished question heavenward, Abby knew the answer.

While Sally lived, in the eyes of God, Conor and she were still bound as man and wife. Abby’s marriage vows, though made in love and full sincerity, would have been invalid. However unintended, she and Conor would have committed adultery.

God forgive her, but she almost wished that they had.

As they pulled up before the main house, Conor, drying his hands on a dish towel, walked onto the front porch. Abby steeled herself for the confrontation to come.

They climbed down from the buggy and Sally approached him. His puzzled expression turned to one of shocked disbelief. Conor halted at the head of the steps. The dish towel dropped from his hands.

At the sight of his expression, Sally’s footsteps faltered. She paused at the foot of the stairs.

His gaze, however, was fixed behind her to Abby, who had remained with Ella at the buggy. As their glances met, a loving entreaty darkened his eyes.

A desire to run to Conor and throw herself into his arms almost overwhelmed her. Run and claim him as hers, no matter the consequences! But she didn’t. With the last shred of willpower she possessed, Abby remained at the buggy.

“C-Conor?” Sally finally said, her voice ragged, her tone uncertain. “Conor, I’ve come home … to make amends, to beg your forgiveness.”

Conor jerked his gaze from Abby. He glared down at Sally. “You’re about thirteen years too late,” he stated coldly. “Now, why did you really come back? Did you hear rumors of Culdee Creek’s wealth, and think to cash in on it? If so, you’re a year too late. Evan managed to cut the worth of this ranch in half when he robbed me and ran away.”

“Evan?” Sally’s thin face brightened. “Is Evan all right?” Her expression fell. “But you wouldn’t know, would you? You just said he ran away.”

“Well, he’s back now,” Conor growled. “Seems like this is a year for the return of all the prodigals in my life, isn’t it?”

“He’s here? Evan’s here?”

A look of annoyance darkened Conor’s face. “Didn’t I just say that? But no matter. Just as soon as I find a spare hand, I want you off Culdee Creek.”

Sally reached out a hand to him. “But Conor, I—”

“I want you gone. Do you hear me?” All the anger and anguish of the past thirteen years welled up to engulf him. “You’re nothing to me. Haven’t been for years now. And I don’t owe you a thing. No court in this land would grant you any claim to this ranch or any of its assets, after what you did.”

“I didn’t come back for money.” She gave a choking laugh. “I’ve got consumption, Conor. I may not last out the year. I came for your forgiveness, and Evan’s, and in the hope that I might spend my last moments on earth making it up to you and our son.”

“Get out of here!” Conor made a sharp, stabbing motion out beyond her in the direction of the main gate. “It sickens me even to have to look at you.”

“Conor. Please!” Sally sank to her knees and lifted her arms. “Please don’t send me away. Let me explain. Give me a chance—”

“Mother?”

Evan and Beth, a basket of wildflowers in her hand, had just walked around the corner of the house. At the sight of Sally on bended knee before his father, the young man paled. He looked to Conor, then back to Sally again.

“Are you my mother?”

With a heart-wrenching cry, Sally shoved awkwardly to her feet. She ran to Evan, and threw her arms about him. “Y-yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, I am!”

Conor cursed. “Blast it all, Sally! Don’t drag him into this. This is between you and me.”

“He’s my son, Conor,” Sally said, clinging to Evan as if her life depended on it. “At least give me a few moments with him before you send me away. Allow me that much.”

Evan, a decidedly uncomfortable expression on his face, looked up from his mother. “What does she mean, Pa? You don’t really mean to send her away, do you?”

“She walked out on us thirteen years ago, Evan, and in all that time has never seen fit even to let us know she was still alive. She’s nothing to us, Evan. Nothing!”

“For all her failings, she’s still your wife, and my mother.” Evan dragged in an unsteady breath, and wrapped his arms around Sally. “You could at least let her stay a few days, so we could talk to her.”

“If you’re so all-fired eager to talk to her,” Conor snarled, his frustration growing, “you’re free to do so in town. In fact, you’re more than welcome to be the one to drive her back to Grand View right now.”

“Maybe I’ll just do that,” Evan countered, a defiant gleam now in his eyes. “And maybe I’ll just keep on going after that, too. Any man who’d turn away his own wife—”

“No, no!” Sally jerked free of Evan’s clasp. She staggered backward, shaking her head. “I didn’t come here to cause division. I just wanted to make peace.”

She began to cough, deep, gut-wrenching spasms that shook her whole body. She doubled over, wrapping her arms about her middle, and nearly fell. Evan grabbed her. She fumbled at the pocket of her dress, pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it to her mouth.

Still the coughing went on, until Conor thought she’d choke to death right there in front of them. Finally the attack abated. Ashen-faced and perspiring, Sally wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, then lowered it from her face. Blood smeared her chin.

The blood caught Evan’s attention. He grabbed at Sally’s hand and, twisting it, looked down at her handkerchief. “Blood! She’s bleeding, Pa!”

Abby and Ella rushed forward. Sally pulled free of her son’s hold. “It’s nothing. Nothing new, anyway,” she hurried to explain. “It’s just the consumption. I cough up a lot of blood at times.”

Abby looked to Conor. “You can’t send her away like this.”

His jaw hardened. “Oh, yes I can. It’s not my fault she’s sick.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Conor.” Abby climbed the steps to confront him. “That doesn’t justify sending a sick woman, your wife, away when she’s ill.”

Frustration filled him anew. Now, above all, must he fight Abby, too? “I don’t need to be reminded of what she is to me, Abby.” Conor shoved a hand raggedly through his hair. “But having her here”—his voice dropped for her ears only—“threatens everything we’ve worked so long to build between us.”

She gazed up at him. In the luminous depths of her eyes, Conor saw her pain—and regret. The sense of the jaws of a trap closing encompassed Conor. His heart sank. Not now.
Not now!

“Sending her away won’t change the fact that she’s still your wife, Conor,” Abby whispered.

“Then I’ll divorce her,” he rasped, refusing to give up, to lose what mattered now more than anything or one had ever before. “Blast it all. I’ll divorce her!”

“Take her in.” She touched him on the arm. “This isn’t the time or place to make such decisions.”

Despair settled about him like a dark, heavy shroud. He twisted his arm until his hand clasped her wrist, squeezing it tightly. “Don’t close your heart to me, Abby,” Conor said, his voice gone raw with entreaty. “We’ll work this out in time. I swear it. Just don’t turn from me.”

Eyes glistening, Abby managed a tremulous little smile. “I’ll never close my heart to you, Conor,” she said in reply. “No matter what happens, I’ll always, always, love you.”

“There, now that you’re finally all settled in,” Abby said as she finished tucking Sally into Evan’s upstairs bed, “why don’t you take a nice long nap? After your long journey and all the stress and excitement of your return to Culdee Creek, I’d imagine you’re exhausted.”

Sally, dressed in one of Abby’s extra nightgowns, smiled wanly. “I must say I am.” She pulled the cotton sheets and blanket up to her chin. “I just feel guilty taking Evan’s room from him and causing you all this extra work.”

“Evan doesn’t mind one wit bunking in with the other hands. In fact, if I miss my guess, he’ll actually enjoy his time there, with several men more his own age to talk with.” Abby walked to the wardrobe, opened the door, and placed Sally’s carpetbag inside. Then she picked up the worn brown dress, petticoats, undergarments, and stockings. “I’ll get these washed while you nap and hopefully have them ironed before you awake. It’s a nice warm, windy day, so everything should dry pretty quickly.”

“You’re very kind, Abigail.” Sally paused, opened her mouth to speak, then clamped it shut again. “I’m so glad Conor and Evan and”—as if struggling for the name, she faltered briefly—“and little Beth have you to take care of them. How long have you been here?”

“Since last October.” At mention of her arrival at Culdee Creek, now eight months past, a pang of sadness struck Abby. So much had happened since then. So many obstacles had been overcome, so many doors opened. Yet now the most formidable obstacle of all loomed before her, and the door of finality and parting threatened to slam shut in her face.

Sally eyed her closely. “Eight months. Not all that long then. Not long at all, to have drawn them so close to you.”