Ballad Beauty (23 page)

“It’ll give you time to get to know one another. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can. You know that?”

Jenny stared at his chest. “I know.”

He lifted her chin until their eyes met. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m a Ranger. The best there is.”

He kissed her, tenderly at first, not wanting to hurt her, but her mouth sparked feelings of fierce possessiveness within him. He wanted to leave her with something to remember him by.

Noah deepened the kiss, his tongue branding her, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she was his, for all time. He ran his hands up and down her arms, finally cupping them around her face.

“I’ll be back, sweetheart. I promise.” And with that, he left Prairie Dell with his prisoner in tow.

Jenny couldn’t shake the sudden chill that ran through her as Riley Withers smiled back at her.

CHAPTER 29

Jenny missed Noah, but she was grateful to have the time to get to know Mo. Her aunt was witty, irreverent, intelligent, and simply fun to be around. In the week that had passed, Jenny had grown very fond of her, as well as the people of Prairie Dell.

She’d never had a group welcome her with such open arms as did the denizens of this tiny town. All her life she wanted to be accepted for who she was. The town did just that, and she was quickly caught up in its daily affairs.

Mo was a voracious reader who collected newspapers from everyone who’d ever come in contact with Prairie Dell. Traders, travelers, customers—all shared their newspapers with her aunt. She had fun going back through the stacks, seeing America through the eyes of reporters twenty years ago.

At night, the two women carried on long conversations. She told Mo all about life at The Thompson School and working at the clinic for Dr. Randolph. In return, Mo regaled her with tales about life in County Cork and the various scams she and Sam pulled throughout the West in their heyday. Some of the stories were incredibly outlandish, but Mo swore they were all true.

As they sat in front of the fire after dinner one night, she expressed her longings.

“I feel I’m just beginning to know my father through your eyes.”

Mo smiled. “And he was a fine one indeed, love. Full of vim and vigor, with his sweet baritone and love for life. A scoundrel? Perhaps. But a happy one, nonetheless.”

Suddenly, Mo flashed a smile—a brilliant smile that gave Jenny a glimpse into the young woman she once had been before age and a hard life painted the deep wrinkles about her mouth and brow.

“I have a delicious idea, Niece.” She took Jenny’s hands in hers. “I know the best way of all for you to know yer da.” Mo squeezed her hands in delight. “His letters!”

Mo released her hands and went to her storage chest. She rooted around in it until she came up with a thick bundle of letters tied with a faded ribbon. She held them up triumphantly. 

“Sammy done wrote these to me over the years. I know he wouldn’t mind me sharin’ them with his gel.”

Mo offered her the packet of letters. Jenny reached out tentatively and took them. She placed them in her lap and stared at them, wondering if she should read them.

“Go ahead. You’ll see yer da in a way few children can.”

Probably forty or fifty letters total stared back at her. She carefully opened the first one. Soon she was engrossed in her father’s life.

The first few were written after he’d gone back East. He’d met Suzannah almost immediately after he arrived in New York. They fell hopelessly in love. When Suzannah’s father denied his only daughter marriage with a penniless stranger, the couple defied him and eloped. Later, they married in the Church, but Suzannah’s parents were unforgiving souls.

Sam’s love for his wife poured off each page he’d written and was only surpassed when he wrote his sister of his daughter’s birth.

Mo –

You won’t believe her beauty. I’ve never seen anything so tiny and so incredibly wonderful. She has Suzannah’s looks, the bright green eyes, and she already has a head full of hair. The sweetest disposition of any babe born on earth.

She is a McShanahan, though, mark my words. She is long for a babe—at least that’s what they tell me—so I know she’ll have our family’s height. Her fingers and toes are long and elegant. I could go on about her for days. I don’t know how we’ll manage, but you’ve got to meet her someday.

He went on to write about how ill Suzannah became. How each breath was a labored one. At her death, his emptiness made Jenny’s heart ache. Not one letter went by after that where he did not mention his beloved wife and all she meant to him.

Sam’s pride in his only child took up the majority of the letters that came afterward. He wrote verbatim what her teachers reported to him, how fast her progress was, what a good student she’d become. He rarely told Mo where he was or what he’d been up to, but every letter raved about Jenny and her accomplishments at school.

The candle burned low by the time she finished. She knew she’d re-read them again before she left Prairie Dell. When she did leave, however, she’d take a piece of her father in her heart. It still hurt that he’d left her, but she’d been truly blessed to have a parent who cared so for her. It was bittersweet, though, knowing she’d never be able to place her arms about his neck and tell him in person—just once—how much she loved him.

Mo was already fast asleep, snoring lightly, when she blew out the candle and went to bed. Jenny said a quick prayer for Noah’s safe return and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

At breakfast the next day, Jenny thanked Mo for sharing the letters with her. “I saw things I would never have been able to see, thanks to you.” She placed her hand over her aunt’s and gave it a quick squeeze. “It was like traveling back in time. I could picture Sam at different places in his life. That was a very special thing for you to do, Mo.” She brushed a quick kiss on her aunt’s cheek.

Mo sighed. “I take them out every now and then and read them myself. It does take a person back.” She brightened. “I read Noah’s letters, too.”

“Noah wrote you?”

“Oh, many times. Maybe you’d like to read those, too?”

She hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s not like with Papa’s.” She thought on it. “I do wish I knew him better.”

Mo slapped her hand on the table. “Then that settles it.” She returned to her chest and shifted items around. This time she brought up two separate packets.

“Noah was a much steadier writer than your da.” She smiled fondly at the stacks. “Before you read them . . . I just want you to realize what a special boy he was. He was growin’ up as he wrote these letters, Jenny. He’s grown into a wonderful man. I’m sure you’ll agree with that.”

She beamed at her aunt. “I can attest to that.”

“Well, I’m needin’ to get ready for my poker game. Why don’t you help fix me up? You’ll have the place all to yourself then.”

She helped Mo choose a gown, along with a matching bonnet and eye patch. It amused her how Mo wore a serviceable black patch on a daily basis, yet on poker day, she needed to be outfitted in one that matched her attire.

After Mo left, Jenny settled in with another cup of coffee, stealing one of Buffy’s sugar lumps to sweeten the strong, steaming liquid. She opened the first of well over a hundred letters Noah wrote to Mo over the years. The neat, schoolboy hand had given in to a heavy scrawl over time, but she heard his voice as she read. She knew from the previous night that Mo had all the notes in chronological order, and she was careful to keep them arranged that way.

Much of his correspondence made her hurt. He was a lonely boy, guilt-ridden because he couldn’t change his father from being a career criminal and his mother from being bitter over her marriage to such a man. She’d lost her family with her hasty elopement, just as Suzannah had, and it was something Sarah Webster never got over.

She drove Noah hard. Maybe because he was the oldest, but he shared a heavy burden as the man of the house at a tender age. Noah never seemed to blame his mother for her feelings, but she subconsciously instilled in him notions of worthlessness, simply because his father was Pistol Pete Webber.

Mrs. Webster also drove her son to pursue education as much as possible. They never were in a place long enough for him to attend school for any length of time, but she was a well-educated woman in her own right, and she passed along her learning to her eldest child.

He’d been very close with his brother and sister, but it seemed he’d never made any friends. He wanted so much to help support his family—to keep them in one place—that he was willing to do anything to achieve that, even if it meant giving up his own stability by pushing cattle to market.

He wrote from the cattle drives, late at night, around the dying campfire. While the other cowboys slept, Noah wrote to Mo and dreamed of another life, one that would curb his wanderlust and prove that he could be a decent man.

Then the tone of the letters changed. An excitement filled them. He’d met a Texas Ranger.

Mo –

I can’t really explain it yet. The words haven’t even formed in my own mind, else I could get them down better on paper for you. But this Ranger seemed a giant of a man, though he’s not much taller than I am. Yet he commanded a respect beyond measure. I wish I could pursue something like that. To be on the right side of law. To do good for others. I know I would be a better man for it.

Finally, the letter came that told Mo he had signed on as a Ranger.

I am convinced that I’ve found my life’s work, Mo. They weren’t just impressed by my shooting skills or my book knowledge (which I have to thank Mama for), but by me! I have finally found something I excel at. Something that makes me feel alive. Something I can take pride in. I promise you that nothing—nothing—will ever take me away from this life of Rangering. I’d be miserable otherwise.

This thought echoed time and again in the letters Noah sent after joining up with the Rangers. He wrote of cases he handled, of men he’d brought to justice. Of the happiness he experienced as he helped others. No vanity or conceit was involved, just a deep, abiding respect for his office and what he accomplished every day.

And he was giving it all up. Because of her.

Her throat was thick with unshed tears when Mo returned, earlier than usual, a dusting of snowflakes in her hair. Jenny had re-bundled the letters and placed them back in Mo’s trunk.

“What’s wrong, gel?”

“What do you think being a Ranger means to Noah?”

Mo grew thoughtful. “I’d say it means more to him that anything on this earth. He’s made for it. It’s a hard life, but the one for him.” She paused. “He’s always thought he needed to prove something to the world because he sprang from Pete’s bad blood. Rangering lets him lend people a hand. Gives him self-respect. I can’t see him doing anything else.”

Jenny pondered on Mo’s words the remainder of the day. She continued to turn it over in her mind long after they bedded down and her aunt’s snores began. She wrestled all night with the quick decision Noah had made by choosing her over being a Texas Ranger. She understood why he believed he must give it up. Rangers dealt with dangerous criminals and savage Indian tribes as they tried to protect the citizens of their state. If he remained a Ranger, he would be gone more often than he was at home and in peril at every turn. By sacrificing his career, he thought he was doing what was right for their relationship.

She couldn’t live with that.

Jenny made the only choice she could as the sun rose. She refused to take Noah away from the only life he loved, one that gave him value and worth in his eyes. She wouldn’t selfishly keep him from doing what made him happy. If they married, he’d never forgive her for having to abandon what he was meant to do. He would repeatedly tell her it didn’t matter, but she knew his love for her would turn bitter as the years passed. He’d long to return to what he loved best—serving the law—despite being shackled to her side. And she wanted the best for him.

So much that she would give him up.

CHAPTER 30

A sudden rap at the door startled her. Her emotions raw at the moment, she tossed off her blanket and walked reluctantly to the door. She’d just made the biggest decision of her life, one that already brought a twisting agony to her insides. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for entertaining company before breakfast.

She opened the door and was hit with an arctic blast of cold. A stranger stood there—clean-shaven, wavy blond hair, his hat in his hand.

“Miss McShanahan?”

She was taken aback that he knew her name, then realized he might be referring to Mo.

“Yes, I’m one of them. Please come in.” She stood aside and let the man enter and quickly shut the door to block out the frigid temperature. The fire flickered slightly from the sudden draft.

“I have a check for Miss Jenny McShanahan.” The man reached into his inside pocket and extracted an envelope. She saw the bold handwriting and instantly recognized it as Noah’s.

“Ma’am, this is from—” 

“I know who it is from, sir.” She took it from his outstretched hand and held it in front of her. She was curious that Noah would write so soon. Only a week had passed. He would have had to write the missive almost immediately after departing. She wondered, too, about the hand delivery. She was afraid to open it.

“Won’t you come warm yerself by the fire, young man?” Mo motioned him over. “I bet a good cuppa coffee would hit the spot.”

He smiled eagerly. “Yes, ma’am, it would. I’m Ted. Ted Simmons.”

“Well, pull on up, Ted Simmons, and give us the latest gossip. Word doesn’t always reach Prairie Dell in a timely manner.” Her aunt gazed at the newcomer greedily. “You wouldn’t happen to have a newspaper on you?”

Ted nodded. “In my saddle bags, ma’am. Mr. Webster warned me to come prepared. Let me fetch it while you get that coffee.” He pulled his coat about him and left to retrieve the paper.

Jenny went over to the cot for a little privacy and sat as Mo prepared the coffee. Her hand moved over the envelope in her lap. It was so like all the ones she had read yesterday. Before she could embarrass herself by bursting into tears, she tore open the envelope and removed the contents inside.

She pulled out a check, the finder’s fee for the return of the money and bonds that Sam had stolen. Made out to her. She was surprised at the generous amount. Even when split equally between her and Mo, it was a generous sum.

Noah had enclosed a brief note to her.

Jenny –

Wanted you and Mo to have this reward money as soon as possible. I know it’s not exactly what Sam planned for either of you, but at least the money’s honestly gained. Can’t say how long I’ll be. Withers is a pain in the rear. Nothing I can’t handle, though.

I plan to stay for his trial. I think I owe that much to Pete. As soon as it’s finished, I’ll make my way back to Prairie Dell.

I miss you, Jenny. You’re in my every waking thought.

With all my love,

Noah

She kept to herself while Mo conversed with their visitor. Ted finally begged off having breakfast with them and left three fairly recent newspapers in Mo’s proud possession. She flipped through them excitedly as they ate, pointing out first one item and then another.

When Mo realized her responses were half-hearted at best, she bellowed, “Shake it off, gel. You knew you weren’t goin’ to see Noah for weeks. I don’t know why yer mopin’ around so. Quit pickin’ at your food like a love-struck fool.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow, Mo.”

Her aunt snorted. “What the blazes are you talking about? Noah told you to stay put, and stay put is what you’ll do.”

“I’ve decided not to wait for Noah.”

Mo was dumbstruck. “I don’t understand.”

Jenny shrugged. “I’m not quite sure I do either, but it’s something I have to do.”

Calmly, she explained how Noah told her he would give up being a Ranger for her. Mo’s jaw fell open, the shock plain on her face.

“See what I mean? I’ve only known Noah a short while. You’ve known him half his life. You recognize what being a Texas Ranger means to him. I do, too—now that I’ve read his letters.”

“But he loves you.”

“Yes, I think in his way he does. But he loves Rangering more. Those letters made it clear to me.”

Mo frowned. “I should never have suggested you read them.”

Jenny placed a hand on Mo’s arm. “No. I’m glad you did. You saved us both time and heartache. Noah would’ve grown tired of a stagnant life. I see that now. He would have withdrawn from me, and I would never have known the reason he was dying inside.”

She wiped away a tear. “I’ll always love him, Mo, but I can’t see that love destroy the only thing he’s meant to do. It’s
because
I love him that I have to let him go. Can you understand that?”

Mo put down her fork and slid her chair next to Jenny, drawing her into a warm embrace. “Go ahead. Cry it out.”

Jenny buried her face against Mo’s shoulder. The tears flowed for a long time.

Finally, she got hold of herself. “I want you to come with me, Mo. We have the reward money the bank sent us. We can start a new life.”

Mo’s look of alarm almost caused her to laugh. “I ain’t goin’ back East, Jenny. It’s not for me. Give me the wide open spaces of the West. I’m like Sammy in that respect.”

“I don’t want to return to Boston.”

Mo looked surprised. “But that’s the only life you’ve ever known. Where do you think you’ll live?”

“I want to go to San Francisco.” Jenny paused. “I’ve fallen in love with the West, Mo. The spirit of the people. The room for opportunity. There’s nothing left for me back in Boston. I’d like to make my life here. From everything I’ve read, San Francisco’s the place to be.”

Mo patted her hand. “I’ll come visit you, gel, but I intend to live in Prairie Dell till my dying day.”

They argued for a while, but Jenny knew how entrenched her aunt was in this cabin. In the long run, she convinced Mo to promise to make a yearly visit to see her.

“What’ll you do there? In Frisco.”

Jenny shrugged. “I have a few ideas. It’s the biggest city west of the Rockies, so there’s bound to be room for a McShanahan. What’s the fastest way to travel there?”

“If yer heart’s really set on leavin’, I guess you could go up to Carson City. Get a train or stage from there.” Mo thought a moment. “Sid’ll take you. He gets itchy feet every now and then and likes to take off. If’n you leave after our regular Saturday night date, he can get you there and be back in time without missing out on any action.”

She grinned. “Ever the businesswoman, Mo?”

Mo returned her grin sheepishly. “Wouldn’t stay in business otherwise, dear.” She hugged Jenny tightly. “Oh, how I will miss you.”

Noah gazed out at the landscape that rushed by the window. He closed his eyes. They were tired and gritty from lack of sleep. He rubbed at them and turned his head away, pushing it into the cushioned upholstery.

“Bah-stahn. Next stop in ten minutes.” The conductor passed by him as he sat forward and placed his head in his hands. What had happened to his well-ordered world? The one where he was in charge. The one where he knew who he was and where he was going and why he did what he did.

Jenny McShanahan had happened. That’s what. Her image danced before him. He’d turned his life upside down for her. He’d quit his job as a Ranger after Withers had been found guilty, not even staying to see him hang. He rode like hell back to Prairie Dell, only to find Jenny gone.

The scene with Mo had been an ugly one. He ranted and raved, but Mo wouldn’t budge an inch. She’d only say that Jenny had decided they shouldn’t marry. No, she didn’t know exactly where she’d gone, only that once she settled in, Jenny promised to write.

He knew of only once place she’d go. Back to Boston. So he’d hopped on an eastbound train to a place he didn’t want to go to seek out the one thing he couldn’t live without.

Jenny.

He ached at the thought of her, but he’d realized he couldn’t live without her. He needed her like birds needed to fly and fish had to swim. He needed her because when the sun came up in the morning, he didn’t feel he could live through another day without her. He would find her and convince her he loved her. He had to. He couldn’t stand the pain anymore. He’d live anywhere she wanted and do whatever she wanted him to do, but they had to be together.

The train rolled to a halt. Noah gathered his lone bag and disembarked. He knew the best way to trace her would be through the person who’d meant the most to her—Dr. Randolph. The only way he knew how to find the man was at The Thompson School.

Three-quarters of an hour later he stood at its gates. The stone edifice rose four stories high. He wondered how it had looked to a young Jenny when Sam first brought her here all those years ago. She’d probably been scared to death.

He walked through the gate and up the stairs to knock at a massive oak door. A gray-haired servant in a starched white pinafore answered the door.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m needing to get in touch with Dr. Randolph. My name is Noah Webster.” He watched her brows raise in typical fashion as he introduced himself in his western drawl. “I’m an old friend of his family and in town for a day or two. I would really like to call on the Randolphs and let my mama know how they are,” he finished politely.

“This way, sir.” The retainer motioned him into the imposing hall and closed the heavy door. “Wait here, please.”

She indicated a seat, which he took, and placed his bag next to it. He watched her ascend the main staircase and then looked around at his surroundings. He stood to look more closely at a sketch on the wall, which looked like a Winslow Homer. A voice interrupted his inspection.

“May I help you?”

He turned and saw a forbidding woman behind him, glasses perched on the edge of her rather prominent nose. Her white hair was caught in a severe bun and emphasized her homely face. In that face, though, lay a great strength and cruelty.

As she sized him up he said, “Miss Thompson, I presume?” She was everything he’d imagined the old dragon to be.

The headmistress looked startled. “Why, yes. And you would be?”

“Noah Daniel Webster, ma’am.” He enunciated each name slowly and for once took delight in the reaction it caused.

“Mr. Webster?”

He turned to see a man in his mid-forties descending the stairs at a rapid rate. He was impeccably turned out in a gray pinstriped suit and starched white shirt that looked as if it could stand on its own.

“I believe you’ve met Miss Thompson.” The physician nodded curtly at his employer.

“I see you are taken care of, Mr. Webster.” The woman’s frosty stare lingered on him a moment before she turned and retreated behind a nearby door.

Noah held out his hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Randolph.” He judged a man by his handshake, and the doctor lived up to what Jenny had shared about him.

The older man looked him in the eye. “Now what’s this about, us being old friends?”

“A small untruth that I hoped would guarantee me an audience with you, sir. I need to speak to you about Jenny.”

Dr. Randolph’s eyebrows raised a notch. “Hmmm. Why don’t we adjourn into the parlor?” He led Noah to a sitting room off the main hallway and indicated a seat. The physician sat opposite him.

“So where is she, young man? I know you were her guide at one point.”

He blanched. “You mean . . . she isn’t here in Boston with you and your family?”

“No. Frankly, I’m puzzled by the whole business. I had word from her as she traveled to Nevada to meet up with her father.” A withering glance crossed his face. “I certainly didn’t approve of her taking off across the open countryside with a stranger as her guide.”

“She can be headstrong, sir.”

Randolph grunted. “I see your point, son.” He frowned. “She wrote me again weeks later from Carson City of her father’s sudden death from illness. Pity, her going all that way. Said she’d write me in more detail when she was settled, but that’s been awhile.” He looked into Noah’s eyes. “Are you telling me you don’t know where she is either?”

A sick feeling churned in his gut. “No, sir. I left her with her aunt in Prairie Dell. When I returned for her, she was gone.”

He looked pleadingly at Randolph. “Her aunt wouldn’t tell me where she’d gone. I’ve got to find her, sir. It’s very important.”

The physician studied him carefully. “From her brief correspondence earlier, I gathered Jenny was having the time of her life out West. Said she felt like she’d come home.” He squinted as if trying to remember something. “She said,
‘The confines of the East no longer hold any appeal to me.’
That’s the phrase she used.”

He sighed and resumed his inspection of Noah. “You came an awfully long way to track her down, Mr. Webster, for purely a social call.”

“Yes, sir, I did. When I find her—if I don’t strangle her first—I’ll tell her I love her and that I want to marry her. I thought she’d understood that before I left.”

Randolph burst out laughing. “Got under your skin, did she?” He slapped Noah on the back. “Might as well come home with me for supper, Mr. Webster. You can catch a train first thing in the morning. I bet we can entertain you with some stories about Jenny in the meantime.”