Joline's Redemption (16 page)

She wished she could say no, but Jamie had always been a congenial child. The ladies at the bordello had passed him around so much it was a miracle he knew who his mama was. She hadn't expected him to be so friendly with Gabe, but he had been. With a sigh, she nodded. “Probably.”

Grinning, Baron scooted to the end of his chair. “Hey, little guy. You want to sit with me?”

“You'll have to pick him up. I doubt he'll just come to you.”

Baron rose, hovering over her. Then he surprised her and bent to his knees. From his pocket, he pulled a leather strap with several keys attached and jingled them in front of Jamie. The boy's gaze lifted, and he babbled something then reached for the keys, taking them from Baron. He shook them, making them clink together, then lifted his gaze to Jo, grinning.

Baron reached out and patted Jamie's knee. “That makes a fun noise, doesn't it?”

Jamie's excited chatter warmed Jo's heart, but having Baron so close did little to soothe her taut nerves.

Baron clapped his hands together. “You want to come to me, huh, Jamie?”

The boy shook the keys again, and they flew from his hand, landing on the floor. Baron reached down and picked them up, jiggling them. Jamie squealed and lunged for them. Jo started to grab him, but Baron beat her to it and picked up her son. He stood, shaking the keys, and Jamie claimed them.

“He closely resembles you, but I see Mark in him, too.” His brow furrowed and his gaze shot to hers. “He doesn't know about Jamie, does he?”

Jo stood. “No, and I hope you won't tell him.”

“Why not? He has a right to know, don't you think?”

Evidently, he thought her marriage was a legitimate one. Jo lifted her chin. “No, I don't. I told him I was carrying his child, and do you know what your brother did?”

Baron shook his head, his interest obvious.

“He boarded up the store and left town—without me.”

His mouth dropped open for a moment, and his eyes widened. Then he pursed his lips and blew a loud breath from his nose. “I'm so sorry. I wish I'd known. I would have helped you.”

Jo hadn't expected his sympathy. If anything, she thought he'd side with Mark. “It wasn't your responsibility.”

He ran his hand over Jamie's head. Her son had leaned back against him, his eyes drooping, the keys lying in one hand in his lap.

Baron looked toward the window. “I've been cleaning up Mark's messes all of my life.”

Jo stiffened. “Jamie is not one of your brother's messes. He's my
son
.”

His apologetic gaze shot back to hers. “I was thinking of the store, not Jamie. Please forgive me for not making that clear.”

Jo felt as if her emotions were churning at the speed of a runaway train. “All right. I understand.”

“What happened after Mark left? Did you return here?”

Jo tensed. This was the part she didn't want to talk about. “Um … no, I didn't.”

“But where did you go?”

“Oklahoma City.” Jo winced. Maybe she shouldn't have told him the truth in case Badger or one of his cronies came to the store, asking about her. Jo reached for the hand Baron held across Jamie's stomach, touching the back of it. “Please, you can't tell anyone we're here—if someone should ask. Sarah's life could be in danger if you do.” Not to mention her own.

His eyes widened, and he obviously wanted to ask another question, but he was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “I don't see as it's anyone's business.”

Relief washed through her. He
was
different from Mark. If Mark thought he could earn a coin, he would tell people anything they wanted to hear, no matter the cost to others. He'd use a person and then toss that person out, just like he'd done with her.

Baron glanced down at Jamie then lifted his head, a look of wonder on his face. “He fell asleep.”

“I guess he feels safe with you.”

Baron caught her gaze. “He
is
safe with me—and so are you. I'm not the man my brother is.”

Jo nodded. “I can tell, even though I don't know you well.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Was Mark always the way he is?”

“As far back as I can remember. I was my father's favorite, I suppose because I was the oldest. He groomed me to help in his business. Mother latched onto Mark, spoiling and babying him. He always had a quick smile with big dimples and learned at a young age to wield them like weapons.”

Jo remembered the first time she met Mark, and that description fit him perfectly. If only she'd known then what she did now about him, but knowing her stubbornness and her desire to find a wealthy man, it wouldn't have mattered at the time.

“I want to do whatever I can to help you, Joline.”

“You can call me Jo, like everyone else, but I don't want your help. I'm not one of Mark's messes, either.” In truth, she was, but she didn't want his help because he felt obligated. She wouldn't let herself get indebted to another man. They only wanted one thing from a woman, and she was done paying their price.

“Then let me help Jamie. He'll need clothes as he grows, shoes, all kinds of things. It would please me to provide for him.”

“It's my place to take care of my son, not yours. If you really want to help, you can give me a job.”

Sarah stuck a bite of eggs in her mouth as she glanced around the table, still amazed at how the Coulter family had welcomed her into their home. She almost felt as though she were a member of the family. Even Luke, Gabe's foreman, always sought her out whenever he came into the room and flashed his warm smile at her. He always joined the family for breakfast so that he and Gabe could plan their day. He ate with the ranch hands at the other meals, although Sarah rather wished he could join the family for lunch and supper.

As she reached for a biscuit, the ruffle on her sleeve nearly touched the butter. She lifted her arm higher, not wanting to soil the pretty calico dress that Lara had sewn for her, as well as an apron to wear over it when she did her chores. It still amazed her that Lara hadn't demanded anything in return for the dress. In fact, it seemed to have pleased her to make the dress. She said it was a gift—and she was working on a second one, a gold-and-brown-striped fabric that Jo had said would look good with her eyes. Not since she lived with her mother had she felt cared for—maybe even loved.

When they'd first left Oklahoma City, she'd figured Jo would dump her somewhere, but she had more than kept her word. That wasn't something she expected white people to do, especially for her. But Jo and the Coulter family weren't most people. Her Indian blood did not matter to them.

Luke cleared his throat. “I reckon y'all heard there's talk that the government will be opening the Cherokee Strip for settlers, probably by another land run.”

Sarah glanced at Luke then ducked her head. She enjoyed the way the handsome cowboy's blue eyes twinkled. He was always happy and friendly.

Gabe nodded. “I read about that in the
Guthrie Ledger.
There may be more land than was available in the rush of '89.”

“How much more?” Luke shoved in his last bite of food.

“Don't know yet.”

Luke pushed his plate back. “I'm hoping to take a shot at some of that land.”

Gabe frowned. “You're my right-hand man. I'd sure hate to lose you, but you know I won't hold you back from gettin' your own place. If things don't work out, you'll always have a home here.”

“I appreciate that more'n I can say.”

“Can I go with you, Luke?” Michael, his blue-green eyes dancing, rose up to sit on one leg.

Lara shook her head. “Of course not. You're much too young.”

“There was kids in the other land runs.”

“Only because their parents had no place to leave them during the race.” Gabe pointed to Michael's plate. “Eat your breakfast, son. There are chores to be done.”

“Aww …”

“Michael?” Lara lifted one brow.

Her son ducked his head. “Yes, sir. Sorry, Pa.”

Jamie squealed and tossed a gummy biscuit halfway across the table, eliciting a snicker from Luke. Jo turned toward her son. “No. No. We don't throw food.”

Jamie puckered up, but before he could start crying, Jo grabbed her spoon and slid a bite of apple butter into his mouth. His expression instantly softened, and his eyes lit up as he smacked his lips.

Sarah smiled and focused on finishing her own meal. She enjoyed the antics that occurred with a baby at the table. Meals at Badger's house had been so different. The women mostly talked about the guests they'd entertained the night before. Sarah preferred to eat in the kitchen with the cook or out on the back porch alone. She'd hated that place and had even started praying to Lara's God that He would let her stay here and not have to return. But if Badger found her … she shuddered to think what he would do.

She wanted to keep learning to read. Already she could sound out easy words, and the thrill of that achievement was more than anything she'd ever done. She might never have learned to read if she'd stayed with her mother. Although many Indian children were attending schools these days,
Etsi
hadn't wanted her to suffer the insults she would face for being a half-breed. So Etsi had kept her home … until the day Badger arrived. Her mother had called him Pete, but she was the only one.

She stirred her eggs with her fork, not really hungry anymore. Thoughts of how Badger had taken her from her dying mother always ruined her appetite. She hadn't wanted to leave Etsi with no one to care for her, but even Etsi had agreed she should go. What would have happened to her if she had stayed once Etsi was gone?

Maybe she should be more grateful to Badger, but she found it difficult. Her mother said he was her father, but Sarah had never seen him before. She wouldn't have known him if she had passed him on the street. If he cared for her, why hadn't he been there when she was small? Why hadn't he helped Etsi? And what purpose could he have for her now that she was nearly an adolescent? She shuddered to think he'd make her do what the other women did.

No, she would never go back. No matter what.

J
ack stood outside Comstock's General Store, listening to Mildred Yates rattle off a list of her ailments. Her grandson, Seth, sat on the nearby steps next to Lee, tossing clods of dirt into the street. Jack looked for Nick but didn't see the boy.

Mrs. Yates rubbed the small of her back. “These cloudy days make my rheumatism worse. I tell you, Parson, it's gonna rain before the day's over.”

He suspected as much just from looking at the pewter sky, and there was a bit of chill to the air but not enough to don a duster.

“And my Henry, why, you should see the size of the boil on his … um … you know.” She swatted her hand in the direction of her backside, her cheeks turning bright red. She snapped her fingers. “Seth, it's time we was gettin' home. C'mon, now.”

“Yes'm.” The child, who looked to be a year or so older than Lee, rose and gazed down at the boy. “Nice throwin' dirt with ya.”

Lee grinned and waved but didn't say anything. Jack's heart warmed at seeing Lee smile. The boy had been quiet and withdrawn for nearly the whole week he'd stayed with Jack. He looked for Nick again. Where had that boy gotten to?

A shout and then rapid footsteps made him turn around. Nick ran smack into him. Jack lifted his arms, catching the boy, and took a step back for balance. Nick squirmed, trying to get loose, but Jack held on to him.

Abel Comstock rushed out the door, his gaze harried. “Hang on to him. He stole something from my store. I turned to see him snatch something from the glass display. He stuck it in his pocket.”

Jack pushed Nick back to where he could see the boy's face, but Nick hung his head. “Look at me, son.”

Nick's head jerked up. “I told you before—I ain't your son.”

The anger in his gaze slashed Jack, but he shook off the pain. He'd been Nick at one time and had made bad choices, too. “What did you take?”

The starch left Nick's shoulders, and he tucked his chin to his chest and shrugged.

“Show me.”

With a loud sigh, Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. Jack ground his back teeth together. He couldn't fault Nick for wanting a knife, especially that one with its shiny silver and inlaid bone. But stealing was wrong. He'd learned that the hard way. “Nick, give the knife back to Mr. Comstock and apologize.”

Nick scowled and shot Jack an angry glance then turned and shuffled toward the store owner. He passed the knife to Mr. Comstock, but not before running his thumb across the bone. “Sorry.”

“I accept your apology, but I think it's best you don't come in my store again.” Abel glanced at Jack, gave a curt nod, and strode back inside.