Glorious Montana Sky (The Montana Sky Series) (29 page)

I’ll have to find somewhere to hide for the night.
He glanced around the inside of the train station. The benches were too obvious. He looked out the window and saw a barrel.

Micah snuck back outside, taking care to not be seen by the stationmaster or the old man on the bench. He hurried over to the barrel and lifted off the top to see inside. To his relief, the interior was empty, with only some straw at the bottom.

He tipped the barrel on its side and rolled it to the corner, then arranged the straw on the bottom, spread out his quilt, and crawled inside. The interior smelled of coffee, and he figured it had contained bags of the beans.

When he dragged his valise inside, the fit was tight. He pulled the lid of the barrel to lean against the opening. Curling on his side, he used the valise as a pillow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

F
illed with shame, Delia watched Caleb and Edith leave the room, their stiff backs betraying their anger with the Bellaires. The pair’s coldness hurt.
But we have only ourselves to blame.

Andre sagged against her. “Leaving here will be hard,” he murmured.

Delia couldn’t show how much the truth of his words hurt. She took his hand. “Come, Papa. You need to rest.” She pulled Andre to his feet. “Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Once they reached his bedroom and shut the door, Andre sank down on the bed. “I’m so sorry, Delia. This is all my fault.”

“I was the one who wrote to Maman. She sold the
cretin
the information.”

He inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, daughter. Your mother’s betrayal must deeply hurt you.”

With a sad sigh, she sat beside him. “She is no longer my mother. Mothers don’t cause harm to their children. You are my only parent.”

He reached for her hand. “I am blessed to have you. But tell me, daughter. Are you brokenhearted by Caleb Livingston’s reaction? I had thought better of the man.”

“No, Papa. I’ve told you all along that I wasn’t interested in him.”

“I only wished to see you happily wed.”

“I know.” Delia thought of Joshua and had to hold back tears. If her father knew of her feelings for the minister, he’d only feel worse about leaving Sweetwater Springs.

Andre sighed. “I will rest as you suggested. Once we find out what the sheriff has done with Dupuy, and we know it’s safe, will you go find Micah? I hate to leave the boy in such as way.”

“I’d already planned to.” She stooped to kiss him, grateful the horrible situation hadn’t caused him worse distress than the need of a nap. “I love you, Papa. We still have each other.”

“Yes, we do. Something I thank God for every day.”

“All will be well,” Delia lied, wishing she could believe her own words. “You’ll see.”

He lay back on the bed, and she left him to nap.

Delia had never removed her hat and gloves, so she didn’t bother to return to her room. Instead, she went downstairs, hoping not to run into Edith or Caleb. In the entry, she appropriated Edith’s parasol.
A formidable weapon.
If Marcel Dupuy came anywhere near her, she would scream and beat him with it. The idea gave her satisfaction.

As she walked briskly down the street, Delia stayed alert. She wouldn’t allow Dupuy to take her by surprise. Far ahead near the train station, she saw a boy carrying a valise. He climbed the steps to the platform.
Micah? No, it couldn’t be.
She squinted at him, a bad feeling in her stomach.
Well, if he’s running away, he can’t get too far. No trains
depart until tomorrow.

With her free hand, Delia lifted her skirt and picked up the pace.

Micah tipped over the barrel and crawled inside.

That little imp of mischief! Good thing I saw him, we might never have found him until too late.

Delia climbed up to the depot, smiled at an old man sitting on the bench, then walked over to Micah. She crouched and shoved the top of the barrel to the side. “I don’t suppose there’s any room in there for me?”

Micah looked up at her, rolled his eyes, and ducked his head. “Go away.”

The boy was the very picture of intractability. “I see you have your valise. Where are you off to?”

Micah remained silent.

“Perhaps you’re traveling with Papa and me to the coast?”

“No,” he mumbled.

Ah, he’s talking. That’s good
. “To your grandparents in Cambridge?”

“No!”

“It must be Africa, then.”

Silence.

“That’s a long way to go, Micah. I hate to think of you taking such a dangerous journey by yourself.”

“Why do you care?”

The hurt tone in his voice struck at her heart. “Because I love you, silly boy.”

“You’re leaving.”

“I don’t want to.”

He looked up, mouth drawn into a flat line, a skeptical look in his eyes. “But you’re a grownup. You can do whatever you want.”

“Oh, Micah,” Delia said with a sigh. “I wish life were that easy. I’ve rarely been able to do what I want, and because of that, I was unhappy for most of my life. It’s different now that I live with my father, but I still want to please him.”

Micah shifted until he was on his stomach, his face propped in his hands. “Why were you unhappy?”

How much should I tell him?
She decided on some of the truth. “Because my mother didn’t love me.”

“My mother didn’t love me, either.”

“She didn’t?” At first, Delia felt shocked by Micah’s blunt statement but remembered some of the things Joshua had said about his wife. “Maybe she just wasn’t good at showing her love. But you had your father. You know he cares for you, don’t you?” she prodded.

Micah didn’t respond.

“I would have given anything to live with Papa when I was growing up. Won’t you miss your father when you leave? What about your grandparents? They’re such good people, and I know they love you, too.”

His eyes looked downcast. “I guess so. But I don’t want to stay. Not if you and Mr. Bellaire aren’t here.”

“I’ll tell you what. If you come out of the barrel and agree to return home, I’ll talk to my father about remaining longer in Sweetwater Springs.”

Micah scrunched his face and shook his head.

Delia decided on a blunt statement of truth. “I love you, Micah Norton, and I won’t let you be alone. If you won’t come out, you’d better move over and let me in.”

“There’s no room.” He pushed his valise out of the barrel and to the side. Then he crawled to her and threw himself into her arms.

Delia held the boy to her, wishing with all her heart he was hers to keep and to raise. She sniffed to hold back tears. “Come on, darling Micah. Let’s get you home.”

Feeling anxious and weary, Joshua headed toward the Livingston mansion. He needed to reassure Delia and Andre that Marcel Dupuy was safely behind bars
, and he wanted to ask her for some private time to talk. He knocked on the door.

Edith answered. “Oh, Reverend Joshua, such a day this has been. Why, I fear for myself with that madman on the loose.”

“Marcel Dupuy’s behind bars, Mrs. Grayson. Sheriff Granger will escort him to the train tomorrow and make sure he leaves town.”

Edith made a dramatic sound of relief and put her hand on her chest. “I’ll be sure to pass the news on to Mr. Bellaire with he wakes up from his nap and
Delia
—” her voice hardened “—when she returns from her walk. We’ve decided not to say anything about her background.”

“That is charitable of you.”

“Of course, we don’t want to be involved in any gossip or scandal.”

Not so charitable.
“Is my son still here?”

“No, Micah became upset when he heard the Bellaires were leaving tomorrow. They’re resuming their journey West. He ran out of the house.”

Leaving!
The news hit Joshua like a blow. His chest tightened with fear.
What will this do to Micah?
“I’d better go track him down. Good day, Mrs. Grayson.”

“Good-bye, Reverend Joshua,” the widow said in a flirtatious tone, giving him a coy look and a flutter of her eyelashes.

With Andre out of the running, it appeared she’d set her sights on Joshua. He didn’t relish the idea of hinting to her they were unsuited.

Shaking his head at the idea, Joshua hurried down the street, hoping he’d find his son at home. Just as he was about to make the turn for the parsonage, he glanced
toward the train station and saw Delia crouched down in front of a barrel.

What in tarnation?

The answer came as quickly as the question.
Micah!
He veered toward the depot. Delia appeared to be talking into the barrel. His son must be inside.

Joshua’s throat closed, so touched was he by her care of the boy. Esther had never possessed Delia’s warmth toward Micah or her acceptance for the boy’s energy, his penchant for getting into trouble. Instead, she would have been yelling for him to come out
at once.

Esther’s in heaven. Perhaps now she understands Micah. Perhaps she even helped guide us all together.
He liked the fanciful thought.

Micah pushed a valise from the barrel, crawled out, and flung himself into Delia’s arms.

The sight of the valise made him realize Micah was running away. For the second time that day, he felt kicked in the stomach.

Dear Lord, please help me mend our relationship.

As Joshua saw the two embrace, his heart came to life, thumping like an African drum.
I thought I loved Delia before, but I didn’t know how much more I could feel for her.
He broke into a run, dashing
up the steps and over to them. Just as Micah and Delia rose, he caught them in an embrace. “My dears.”

Micah stiffened.

Discouraged by Micah’s response, Joshua released them. “Come.” He took Delia’s hand and dropped his arm across Micah’s shoulders, steering them both into the train station to take a seat on a bench.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence as Joshua grappled with what to say to Micah—a scold, punishment? He sensed doing so would make the situation worse, driving a bigger wedge between him and his son.

From the mailroom, Jack Waite leaned over the counter. “You all aren’t here to buy tickets, are you?”

Joshua glanced at Delia and his son. “Absolutely not.”

“I have a letter for you, Reverend Joshua.” He disappeared, then reappeared holding up a letter.

Joshua stood and crossed over to take it. “Thank you, Jack.”

“You all have a nice evening.” The stationmaster gave him a small wave and hobbled out of the building.

Joshua glanced at the envelope to see Abner’s familiar handwriting. He frowned, thinking to read the letter later.

“Who’s it from, Father.”

“Your grandfather.”

Delia fluttered her hand at the letter. “Go ahead and read it.”

Reluctantly, Joshua opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. Abner wrote in a firm hand, the letters forceful. He skimmed the contents. “He wants us to return to Cambridge. Says the time has come for me to prepare to teach the next term and for Micah to attend a school that has a fine educational standard.”

Delia gave a quick intake of breath.

Joshua glanced at Micah and saw the sullen expression on his face.
How can I reach him?
He settled on a simple admission of truth, hoping to build a bridge to the boy. “I miss our Baganda people, too. Miss living in Uganda.” He held his breath.
Will Micah reject me as he had so many times before?
He couldn’t bear it. Not now. Not when he was so open. . .so vulnerable. Not when he was about to attempt a relationship with Delia.

Micah stared at him, wide-eyed, mouth forming an O. “You do? You never said so,” he accused.

“I know.” Joshua let out a long breath. “I think my mind was stuck on this past year, how much I struggled when your mother was dying. How I felt I’d failed her. . .In so doing, I forgot. . .the joy, the love we shared with our people. I needed to forgive myself for her death before I could remember all the good things about Uganda.”

“Remember how they’d sing and dance and wave their arms in church?” Micah swayed a bit on the seat as he spoke.

“Yes,” Joshua said, his voice thick.

“Mother hated that.”

His arm tightened around Micah’s shoulders. “Yes, she did. But she didn’t hate
them
.”

“Seemed like it sometimes,” Micah muttered.

“Your mother was a good woman, but she didn’t understand the natives, and she didn’t understand you and me.”

“Are you
sure
we aren’t going to live in Cambridge?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“I heard Grandfather Abner and Grandmother Ruth talking about it. They sounded very certain.”

So many weeks to hold this secret trouble.
“I wish you would have told me. I could have relieved your mind.”

Micah leaned against him.

The relief of his son’s surrender almost made him weep.

“We can’t return to Uganda, son,” Joshua said gently. “Although you may chose to do so when you’re grown up.”

“ ’Til then, I wanna stay here in Sweetwater Springs.”

Joshua gave his son a hug and dropped a kiss on his head. “Then this is where we will live.”

Micah straightened. For the first time, excitement sparked in his eyes. He glanced over at Delia. “Will you stay in Sweetwater Springs, too, Miss Delia? I don’t want you and Mr. Bellaire to leave.”

“Oh, you darling.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and she cupped Micah’s cheeks and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I’d love nothing better. But I don’t know what will happen now.”

“Micah, I need to speak privately with Miss Delia,” Joshua said. “Can I trust you to go straight home to your grandparents? Grandfather’s home, by the way.”

Turning to face her, Micah touched Delia’s knee. “You won’t leave without saying good-bye, will you?”