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“It’s too late already,” Sterling said. “There are half a dozen curious gossips milling outside the door right now. I’m surprised there isn’t a nose pressed against the window.”
Heather winced. How many times in the past had she let her own curiosity get the better of her? Not even an hour ago she’d been on the other side of the rumor mill. She’d been part of the crowd. How quickly circumstances had changed.
She peered out the window and immediately jerked back. Sure enough, a half dozen people were milling about. Gracie reached for one of her earbobs, and Heather ducked out of reach. She’d done plenty of things over the years without the benefit of training. Young children were no different. Just as with her students, they didn’t come with instructions. The trick was never showing fear.
If she didn’t take responsibility for the child, who would?
“I’ll watch her,” Heather conceded.
“Thank the Lord for your kindness.” The reverend clasped his hands as though in prayer. “The poor child deserves care. I’ll do my best to stem the talk,” he added. “But I can’t make any promises.”
Heather’s heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. There had to be a logical reason for the turn of events. By this time next week, her life would be back to normal.
Except there were moments in life that changed a person. There were moments that changed the course of events, whether a person was ready for the upheaval or not. She had the uneasy sensation this was one of those moments.
Sterling fastened his coat. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
Heather breathed a sigh of relief. By this time next week, this whole incident would be nothing more than a funny story the folks of Valentine whispered about over coffee in the morning. She merely had to care for the child for a few days. Her cousins had only been a year or two older, and she’d cared for them quite often. How much difference did a year or two make in the life of child?
If only there was someone she could lean on for help and advice. During her time in Valentine, she hadn’t made a single close friend beyond Helen, and Helen was too far away to help.
As the schoolteacher, she was in an odd position. She’d been young enough when she arrived that she was only a few years older than her students, but much younger than their parents. Now, women her age were busy with husbands and younger children. She had acquaintances, but no one in whom to confide.
Sterling sidled nearer. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the truth.”
“I know you will.”
A disturbing sense of intimacy left her light-headed. In the blink of an eye her painstakingly cultivated air of practicality fled. Then he turned his smile on the babe, and the moment was broken.
She set her lips in a grim line. His deference was practiced and meant nothing. She must always be on guard around Sterling Blackwell. She must always remember that she was no more special to him than the woman who typed out his telegrams.
He treated everyone with the same indolent consideration, and yet she’d always been susceptible to his charm.
She smoothed her hand over Grace’s wild curls. They were both alone, but now they had each other.
At least for the time being.
* * *
A week after Grace’s unexpected arrival, Sterling adjusted his collar and straightened his string tie in the mirror on the way out the door Sunday morning. He snatched his hat from the peg and loped down the front stairs.
He’d sent a terse telegram to Dillon instructing him to return home immediately. His brother hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, and they’d planned a memorial ceremony upon his return. That was two months ago. From what Dillon wrote in his letters, you’d think the entire West would descend into lawless mayhem without his oversight. No man was irreplaceable. It was time for Dillon to come home and assume responsibility for his half of the ranch.
Sterling had been given a second chance to set things right. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew where to start.
Otto had the wagon hitched, and the ranch hands were already seated in the back. Five men in all, including the foreman, and they each called a greeting. Only Otto had been around during his father’s time. The bunkhouse had been deserted when Sterling returned two months ago. The ranch had fallen into disrepair during his absence. They were only half staffed currently, which meant there was plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him if his brother moved into the house with his new family.
His step hitched. Could he stay and see them every day? He slammed his hat on his head and strode forward. The right thing and the easy thing were rarely the same.
Otto wore a frown on his normally placid face. “You got in late last night. What happened in Butte?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Sterling climbed into the driver’s seat and gathered the reins. “No one knows anything. The employee who gave the child to the porter is missing. To tell the truth, I don’t think he even worked for Wells Fargo.”
“The whole event was a hoax?”
“Appears to be.”
“Sure got everyone’s attention.”
“I’m guessing that was the point. Someone wanted to make sure Heather and I were publicly named.”
Otto scrambled in beside him. “What are you doing to do?”
“I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning.”
The late start nipped at Sterling’s heels. At this rate, he’d have to speak with Heather after the services. A curious anticipation curled along his spine. He didn’t know why their names had been thrown together on that piece of paper, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d had a lot of time for thinking on the way to Butte and back, and some things had become obvious.
The ranch hands talked and laughed in their usual places in the back of the wagon. Rumors abounded in the bunkhouse, but Sterling wasn’t ready to address the speculation just yet. In the absence of an explanation, hushed conversations grew silent when he passed.
The reverend’s words had rung in his ears the entire time he was searching for Grace’s true parents. Someone had treated the child with a reckless disregard for her safety. Anyone who did something that callous wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Since no one was looking for the child, he’d ruled out any other explanation.
As the spire of the church appeared above the horizon, his stomach churned. The ride into town had seemed to take forever.
The boys clambered out of the wagon and filed by in silence. The reverend was at his usual post—shaking hands in the doorway as people filed into the church. A number of wagons were already hitched beneath the trees. Overhead, slender branches held a few sparse, clinging leaves.
One of the Forester children rang the church bell, his feet coming off the ground in his enthusiasm.
Reverend Morris clasped Sterling on the shoulder and pulled him aside. “What did you discover?”
“Nothing.” Sterling glanced around to ensure they had privacy. “No one knows anything about a missing child. The porter is gone. There’s no matching record for a Return of Birth on file in Silver Bow County. Nobody has reported a child missing, and I had the sheriff send telegrams as far as California.” The search had cost him a pretty penny. Money he didn’t have to spare. “I did everything I could.”
“This is extremely troubling.”
“Have you spoken with Heather?” Sterling peered around the reverend, hoping for a glimpse of her. “How is the child?”
He wanted to give her a sign, something to let her know he’d come up with a plan to put her mind at ease. His arrival the previous evening had been too late for a respectable visit, and he couldn’t risk any more gossip.
“Miss O’Connor arrived with the Foresters. She and the child are inside.” The reverend tugged on his collar. “People are extremely curious about the circumstances. I’m afraid your absence has only worsened the matter.”
“Heather is with the Foresters?”
“Yes. Apparently Mrs. Forester has been assisting her with the care of the child.”
Irene Forester was a year or two older than Sterling, and had two young children. Dillon and her husband had been friends as children, which meant they’d be an ally as they weathered the worst of the storm. Knowing the family had already offered Heather their assistance eased his mind.
Sterling doffed his hat and raked his hands through his hair. “Good. They can help.”
“With what?”
“With stemming the gossip.”
“Then you claim no responsibility for the child?”
“This isn’t about me anymore.”
“I see.” The reverend yanked on his lapels. “I’m needed inside.”
“Wait—”
The reverend was swallowed by the tide of people entering the church, leaving the balance of Sterling’s explanation hanging in the air. He sucked in a breath and counted to ten. What did it matter whether he explained about Dillon now or after the service? Yet he’d been struck with a sense of urgency since making the decision. He was afraid if he thought about it for too long, he’d lose his nerve.
He had a choice, and he chose to consider the child as a blessing. God had given him a second chance, and second chances didn’t come along too often.
As he stepped inside, the eyes of the congregation swiveled toward him. His string tie was strangling him this morning, and he stuck a finger in his collar, then slid into a seat along the back row beside Otto.
His height gave him an advantage, and he soon spotted Heather and Grace. She glanced over her shoulder and their gazes clashed. Her expression remained inscrutable, and his heart beat a rapid tattoo against his chest. He’d be seeing a lot of her in the future considering they were both going to be living on the same ranch, and he’d best get control of his feelings.
The reverend assumed his place at the lectern, distracting her, and the moment was broken.
Sterling spent the first half of the sermon rehearsing his confession to Heather. When he finally had the words just right in his head, the hairs on the back of his neck stirred.
The folks in church were unusually restless, even for one of the reverend’s sermons. Several people in the congregation flicked glances over their shoulders in his direction, then quickly turned back toward the front.
Sterling’s attention sharpened, and he focused on the man’s words. The reverend finished reading a letter from Corinthians that seemed awfully heavy on warnings against the immoral and admonishments against those who consorted with immoral people. A bead of sweat formed on the back of Sterling’s neck.
The reverend set down his Bible, braced his hands on either side of the lectern, and stared down the congregation. “I am a deeply troubled man. I believe in a God who believes in love and compassion, and I believe in a God who believes in forgiveness.” He heaved a great sigh. “But I also believe in a set of moral codes. As a man of God, I find solace in a righteous path.”
Several people shifted in their seats. Otto and Sterling exchanged a glance. Was it just his imagination, or had the sermon taken on a decidedly personal note?
“A child has come into our community under extraordinary circumstances.”
Sterling’s face burned. Nope. It wasn’t his imagination.
“I have listened to the concerns of my community.” The volume of the reverend’s voice rose to a crescendo, reverberating directly into Sterling’s ears. “And I have answered your questions to the best of my ability. After much soul-searching, I have come to the conclusion that you cannot choose to live a life of sin and also join with us in worship, Mr. Blackwell and Miss O’Connor. You are no longer welcome among our congregation.”
A collective gasp erupted. Sterling shot to his feet, along with Otto. Heather propped Grace on her hip as she scooted out of the pew. The brim of her hat covered her face, preventing him from reading her expression.
As she rushed down the aisle, he caught her by the wrist before she reached the door. Her pulse beat rapidly beneath his fingertips. “Wait. We can explain. I can fix this.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”
Otto hitched his pants and threw back his shoulder. “Hold up on the fire and brimstone, Reverend. These two plan on getting hitched. Right now, if you like.”
Chapter Three (#uda505f9a-5508-556d-92e9-366148cfa2dc)
Heather froze in place. A smattering of applause sounded, and the congregation descended into excited chatter.
“What are you doing, Otto?” Sterling whispered harshly.
The foreman shrugged. “Ain’t that what you told me on the way over? That you two was getting hitched?”
Judging by the look on Sterling’s face, that wasn’t what he’d said at all. The commotion was agitating Grace, and Heather bounced the child on her hip. While events weren’t exactly going to plan, at least they were moving in the right direction.
The reverend banged his hand on the lectern. “A little decorum, if you please. Is this true, Miss O’Connor, Mr. Blackwell?”
Heather turned toward Sterling and lifted her shoulder in a helpless shrug. The reverend took the vague gesture as a sign of agreement.
“Hallelujah.” Using his gnarled fingers, he pinched the loose end of his robe sleeves against his wrist and dabbed at his brow. “The wedding of Miss O’Connor and Mr. Blackwell will take place in exactly two hours.”
Appearing exhausted by the sudden turn of events, the reverend tucked his Bible beneath his arm and strode down the aisle.
He paused before Heather and Sterling. “I’ll fetch the witness book. Two hours.”
Her breath caught. Events weren’t just moving in the right direction, they were racing ahead and leaving her behind.
Confused by the abrupt end of the service, the townspeople stood and milled about, their voices droning.
Otto placed two fingers in his mouth and blew out a whistle. “Don’t just stand around. Go on home and have supper.”
His words spurred the crowd into action. People gathered their belongings, shrugging into coats, and men donned their hats.
Heather cast a surreptitious glance at Sterling to gauge his response, then quickly looked away. He wasn’t taking this well. At least she had two hours to convince him of her plan. Keeping him in her peripheral vision, she fielded murmured congratulations and perfunctory handshakes as the church emptied.
Otto was the last person to leave. He tipped his hat. “See you after supper.”
Alone with Sterling, her courage faltered. All her careful words muddled together in her head.
Seemingly in a similar place, Sterling paced the center aisle with the restless energy of a caged bear. “I telegraphed Dillon.”
Her hold on Grace slipped. “You did what?”
“I’m trying to make this right.” He flipped back the edges of his jacket and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his gray wool trousers. “It’s my fault Dillon broke things off with you.”
Her panic must have registered with Grace. The child’s lower lip trembled, and she tugged on Heather’s earbobs.
“Ma!”
“No. Not yours. Mine,” Heather corrected the child. She flashed an apologetic look at Sterling. “I think that’s what she was trying to say at the train depot. I think ma means mine. She’s very taken with shiny things.”
“You have to listen to me, Heather.” Sterling grasped her shoulder and steered her toward a pew in the last row, then knelt before her. “I’m the reason you’re not with Dillon.”
Gracie had already been forced to sit still for too long, and her patience lapsed. She flipped onto her stomach and let her feet dangle off the edge of the pew.
“Da.”
