A Time to Love (30 page)

A wan and weary Linda finished dressing her hair in front of the mirror, then left the guest bedroom. She was thinking of her first task—going to the railroad station—as she descended the stairs. The tantalizing aroma of ham and eggs, biscuits, and coffee met her nostrils. Not until then had she realized just how hungry she was.

She found Sadie at the stove, scooping scrambled eggs from a skillet onto a plate.

“Good morning,” Sadie said, catching sight of Linda from the corner of her eye.

“And a good morning to you, Sadie dear,” Linda replied. “Sure smells good in here.” She went to the stout little woman and gave her a hug. “I love you, Sadie.”

“I love you, too, sweetie,” Sadie replied. “How’d you sleep?”

“All right once I got there. Took a while. Lots on my mind.”

The two women sat down at the shiny clean table, and Sadie offered thanks to the Lord for the food.

As they ate, Linda told Sadie about the Lord giving her peace before she went to sleep last night. When she was on her second cup of coffee, Linda said, “Sadie, there’s something I have to do.”

“What’s that, honey?”

“I must go to the Ukiah prison and see Blake. It may be a while before he gets out, since they have to convict Haman of the crime before Blake can be released. I know Blake may not be terribly thrilled to see me, but I feel I have to meet him face to face and tell him the whole story.”

“I agree, honey, but what makes you think he won’t be thrilled to see you?

There was a long pause, then Linda said, “What he and I could have had is gone, Sadie. He had his heart set on my being his mail order bride. Now I’m just what’s left of what might have been.”

There was a loud knock at the front door.

Linda jumped up. “This time I’ll do the running,” she said. “You finish your breakfast.”

She opened the door to the familiar face of Sheriff Bob Coffield, accompanied by a man she didn’t know.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, hearing Sadie’s short steps in the hall behind her.

“Good morning, Mrs. B—ah … Mrs. Warner,” said Coffield. “This is Edgar White, a prominent attorney here in town. He worked with Haman in handling the legal details of the sale of the bank.”

Linda smiled. “Good morning, Mr. White.”

“We need to talk to you, ma’am,” said Coffield. “It’s very important. May we come in?”

“Certainly.” Linda stepped back to allow them inside.

Sadie drew up, curiosity on her plump face, and Linda introduced her to Edgar White, explaining that he was Haman’s attorney, and that he and the sheriff needed to talk to her.

When Sadie realized it was private business, she excused herself.

Linda took them to the parlor, and when they were seated, the sheriff said, “Mrs. Warner—”

“Sheriff, you can call me Linda,” she interrupted. “I really don’t like being called Mrs. Warner. You understand.”

“Of course. Linda, I have something to tell you, and then, because of my news, Mr. White has some things to explain to you.”

“All right.”

“Linda, when my deputies went into the cell block to take Haman his breakfast this morning, they found him dead.”

“Dead! What happened?”

“He made a rope out of his sheet and hanged himself from a rafter in the cell.”

It took a few seconds for Linda to recover from this stunning news. “He didn’t seem like the type to commit suicide …” she said, her voice trailing off.

“I don’t know if there is a type, ma’am. Most people who do that surprise everybody who knows them.”

Linda thought of the time when the police officer in Boston thought she was about to end it all in the harbor.

Coffield reached into his coat pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper. “Haman left a suicide note, ma’am. It’s addressed to you.”

Linda’s hand trembled as she took the paper from the sheriff.

“I can’t say I feel sorry for him, Linda,” he said. “He was a pretty bad man. While we were driving over here in Mr. White’s carriage, I commented to him that there was a wicked man in the Bible named Haman. In the book of Esther, I believe.”

“Yes,” Linda said.

“Well, this wicked Haman who framed Blake Barrett and tricked you into marrying him ended up the same way as Haman in the Bible, with his neck in a noose. I call that poetic justice in both cases.”

L
INDA UNFOLDED THE PIECE OF PAPER
and read its hastily scribbled message:

Tears welled up in Linda’s eyes and began spilling down her cheeks. She realized that last night, even as she was asking God for guidance in her life and for Blake’s freedom, He had already answered. Haman could have hanged himself without leaving his signed confession. Now that the authorities had it, Blake would no doubt be freed quite soon.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” said the sheriff, “are you actually weeping for that low-down skunk?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m weeping because the Lord has answered my
prayers for Blake Barrett. Now that you have the confession of Haman’s guilt in your hands, Blake can go free, can’t he?”

“Of course. The investigation in Sacramento will come to a halt when I wire the news to Sheriff Perkins. However, I’ll have to send him the note with an affidavit signed by me that it, in fact, was written and signed by Haman Warner.”

“Tell you what,” she said, wiping tears from her cheeks, “I can deliver it to Sheriff Perkins for you. As soon as I can purchase railroad tickets, I’m going to California to see Blake. I’m pretty sure I’ll have to change trains in Sacramento to go to Ukiah. I’ll see Sheriff Perkins and give him the papers.”

“All right. I’ll make up the affidavit right away. Now, Mr. White has something to discuss with you.”

Linda put her attention on the lawyer as he said, “I’ll have to address you correctly, ma’am. Legally you are Mrs. Warner. I came along because I felt it was important that you know your financial status now that you’re Haman’s widow.”

Linda blinked in confusion. “Yes, sir?”

“Ordinarily, in a case like this, if there hadn’t been a will you would have ended up with your husband’s estate, but not until it had gone through the courts with a whole lot of fees going to a whole lot of people, including me. Were you aware that just after you married the man who called himself Blake Barrett that he came to me and made out his will?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. Well, he left his entire estate to you. Even though he was operating under an assumed name, it won’t make any difference. You now own the Great Plains Bank, this house, and the money your husband carried in his personal account. Of course, the money you have in the joint account is yours. You’re a very wealthy woman, ma’am.”

It took a moment for Linda to absorb the news. Finally, she said, “Mr. White, this is all so sudden. You’re saying the bank, the money in the accounts, and this house are mine as of this minute?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I know we’ve kept about twenty thousand dollars in our joint
account. Do you know how much is in Haman’s personal account?”

“About a quarter of a million. Probably more.”

Linda paused, letting the figure sink in. “So if I should decide to sell the bank, I can do it.”

“You sure can. And I know what you’re thinking. You’ll want to sell it and give the money to the real Blake Barrett because, in essence, his bank was stolen from him.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, when you get ready to sell it, please let me know. I’ll handle the legal procedures for you.”

“I will, Mr. White. Thank you.”

“Linda,” said the sheriff, “when you get your train ticket and know the time of your arrival in Sacramento, please let me know. I’ll wait till then to send the wire to Sheriff Perkins. That way he can meet you at the depot.”

“I’ll let you know today,” she assured him.

Linda stood at the window and watched the two men climb into White’s buggy and drive away.

“Oh, Lord,” she said aloud, “thank You! Blake’s life can at least be partly put back together. He’ll have enough money to buy a bank somewhere, or even set up a new one. He can go on with his life and put all his pain and sorrow behind him.”

Two days later, a hired carriage pulled up in front of the house. As the driver stepped to the ground, Sadie opened the door and said, “The missus is almost ready, sir. She’ll be right with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Her overnight bag is here, if you’d like to put it in the carriage.”

“Sure,” said the driver, dashing up to the porch.

Linda descended the staircase dressed in a dark blue travel suit with a crisp white blouse and a perky hat that matched the blue in her suit. In her handbag was Haman Warner’s suicide note and the affidavit from Laramie County Sheriff Robert Coffield, confirming that the note was genuine.

She paused at the door to embrace Sadie and said, “When I come back, I’ll put the house up for sale. As I told you last night, you’ll be welcome to stay on until I actually leave Cheyenne City. But you’ll get a year’s salary to give you plenty of time to find another job.”

Tears tumbled down Sadie’s round cheeks. “I hate the thought of you leaving, sweetie, but you have to do what you believe the Lord wants you to do. I don’t know how to thank you for being so generous to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Linda said, planting a kiss on Sadie’s cheek. “All you have to do is promise to write me once a week after I’m gone.”

“You’ve got that promise already.”

“See you in a few days, Sadie.”

“All right. Tell Blake I’m glad things turned out so well for him.”

“I will”

As the westbound train rolled toward the majestic Rocky Mountains, Linda eased back on the seat and looked out the window. She let her gaze stray across the rolling hills of Wyoming. There were large patches of snow, with brown grass showing in between. Green pine trees dotted the hills amid leafless clumps of wild brush.

Linda smiled as she saw a mother black bear and two cubs moving alongside a half-frozen creek. Her attention was suddenly drawn to a huge bald eagle riding the wind currents high above the hills.

Though she was physically and emotionally tired, she felt a sense of joy and expectancy in her heart. “Lord,” she whispered, “I want to thank You again that You’re in control of my life. ‘All things work together for good to them that love God,’ You said. I don’t know what You have ahead for me, but I know it will be all right. Thank You for letting things in Blake’s life work out for good, too. Help him not to be bitter toward me for anything. I want us to at least be friends.”

She scooted a little farther down on the seat and closed her eyes. Soon she was lulled to sleep by the steady rocking of the coach and the perfect rhythm of the clicking wheels beneath her.

Night was falling by the time the train pulled out of Salt Lake City. Linda made her way to the dining car and enjoyed a well-cooked meal, then returned to her seat and read her Bible for a while.

Soon she grew sleepy again and eased back on the seat. There was a baby crying somewhere behind her. Maybe someday the Lord would let her be a mother. Of course, first she had to have a husband.
Somewhere,
she thought,
the Lord has someone who will be willing to marry a widow.

She thought again of the pain and shame she had suffered from the despicable deed of Lewis and Janet. But after everything else she had been through, it was only a dim regret now. She had thanked the Lord many times that He’d spared her from marrying Lewis, who was weak and irresponsible. Sooner or later he would have hurt her, anyhow.

Because the pain of Lewis and Janet’s betrayal had receded, there was room to love again. She had never felt anything like love in her heart for Haman Warner, even though she had thought he was Blake Barrett.

Blake.
She hadn’t thought of it until this moment, but with Haman dead, this could put a new light on the situation if Blake still felt anything for her. But even if he did, would he want her?

Once again she recalled Joline’s words of comfort and encouragement: “You will have your time to love. The Lord has the man, the time, and the place. Let Him work it out.”

She was looking out the window at the stars that twinkled like diamonds against a black velvet sky. “Lord,” she said in a low voice, “could it be that Blake is the man you have for me, after all? I mean, if You worked in his heart, You could fix it so he would want me in spite of my having been married to Haman You are God. You can do anything. Anything but fail, that is.