Lacy's Legacy Read online

  Mrs. Crenshaw’s brows drew together, obviously confused.

  “It’s quite dangerous out here in the wilderness.”

  An understanding smile crossed Mrs. Crenshaw’s face. “I shall certainly take that into consideration, my dear, and rest assured, I, too, will be praying that I may find you the mate God would have for you.”

  God had already given her the perfect mate and then taken him.

  No—not God. Malcolm Dye had taken him, and somehow, someway, she’d make him pay.

  Chapter 3

  Ethan Wilkes left the barber shop and brushed the hair clippings still clinging to his best shirt. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have worn his Sunday best just to get a haircut, but he’d gotten a telegram from Aunt Milly to meet him at the Marshallville Café at noon. No further explanation.

  It wasn’t unusual for Aunt Milly to pass through town on her many travels, but she usually came out to the farm for a visit with Ma. That she wanted to meet him in town meant she didn’t have time for a lengthy visit. But why would she want to see him? Aunt Milly was fastidious but sweet as could be.

  He was more than a little curious.

  A blast of noise met him at the café. It was a popular eatery and always crowded at mealtimes. He hoped Aunt Milly was watching for him because he didn’t know how he’d find her.

  Rosie, one of the waitresses who knew him, beckoned him before he’d managed a survey of the dining room. “Mrs. Crenshaw is waiting for you, Mr. Wilkes. This way.”

  He should have known Aunt Milly would take care of all possible difficulties. She was that type of woman. How she stayed so busy should amaze him, but she wasn’t really all that old. Maybe forty-two in years, but much younger in spirit.

  Ethan spotted her from across the room, and she rose before he reached her corner table. He topped Aunt Milly by a foot, but she squeezed him around the middle hard enough to make him grunt.

  He bent to kiss her on her upturned cheek. “This is a surprise, but a pleasant one,” he said.

  Double smile lines creased around Aunt Milly’s mouth. “And made you a little curious, too.”

  He held her chair for her. “Yes, for sure. Ma was disappointed you couldn’t come out to the farm.” He settled in the chair across from her.

  “I would have loved to, but I’m behind schedule as it is. I have a hundred clients waiting for me back home.”

  Ethan shook his head. The mail-order brides business was exploding. He’d thought enough years had passed since the War Between the States ended to replace the marriageable male population, but women were still forced to find mates through the mail.

  He remembered how Ma and Pa had laughed when Aunt Milly announced opening a matrimonial agency in Boston when Uncle Max had passed away. They’d expected her to sell her home and move out here near Marshallville.

  But Aunt Milly surprised them all. Her agency was a great success, resulting in hundreds of happy marriages, mostly matching lonely spinsters to settlers who’d moved west to claim land under the Homestead Act.

  While he and Aunt Milly were exchanging family news, Rosie came up with a tray. “I brought your regular, Mr. Wilkes.” She set a bowl of beef stew and cornbread before him.

  Aunt Milly had chosen an egg salad sandwich and pickle. Rosie poured coffee for both of them and left.

  “Would you bless the food, Ethan?” Aunt Milly took both his hands across the table, and Ethan spoke a simple grace.

  They ate for a few minutes then Aunt Milly sipped her coffee and met his gaze. “Are you still interested in going west to start a horse farm?”

  She’d caught him with his mouth full. He swallowed, nodding at the same time. “Sure am. You know Jason got married last year, and he and Kitty want to start a family soon, so I need to give them space.”

  It was always understood Jason, his brother, would take over the family farm and take care of Ma, and he had when Pa passed away. “I’ve been saving up because even with the land free, it’ll cost a great deal to get started. Horse stock isn’t cheap.”

  “I expect it will cost a bit, but you don’t want to wait until all the good land is taken.”

  “I know there are a lot of immigrants coming in to stake claims, but I read there’s still good farm land left further west.” He blew on his coffee and tasted it. “And I’ve been able to save a good bit of cash and was thinking I might find a failing farm for cheap.”

  A lot of settlers went out west with unreasonable expectations. Funny how the lure of free land made people forget nothing was ever free. Forgot how harsh the conditions were. How long it would take to produce an income to support a man, much less a family.

  “That you might.” Aunt Milly set her cup on the table and clasped her hands together as though she was finished with the meal. “I just came from the Montana Territory, and land is going fast, but I might have found you an existing farm. Didn’t you tell me Montana had about the most beautiful land anywhere in the country?”

  His army regiment had been posted to the territory for his last two years of service, so he knew the land well. “Is this farm abandoned, or do you mean I’d have to buy someone out?” There were all sorts of possibilities. It took years just to get the soil ready for planting, and farmers had to go into debt. Most of the abandoned farms were owned by the bank but, depending on the condition of the property, it could be a bargain.”

  “When we last talked, you told me you’d want me to find you a mail-order bride after you got settled. Does that still hold?”

  Ethan dropped his spoon. He should have realized Aunt Milly would be talking brides. According to her every single man needed a wife, and if he couldn’t get one on their own, she’d get him one. That went double for relatives.

  He’d been joshing when he’d mentioned she could find him a bride, but the more he’d thought about it, the more sense it made. Aunt Milly had connections with more suitable women than he’d ever have.

  “I might need you to find me a mail-order bride when I go out west, claim my land, and get my farm producing enough to support a wife.”

  She grinned in that sly way she had when hatching a plot. “Oh, good. I thought maybe you had an understanding with Violet.”

  He gave her an eye-popping stare. “Aunt Milly, I only took Violet to the circus that one time.”

  “Yes, but you knew her all through school.”

  “We were nothing but friends.”

  “Your mother thought it was more serious, but I’m glad to hear she was wrong about that. I always thought Violet too delicate for the frontier life.”

  “Yes, Violet is definitely too delicate.”

  “Good, because I’ve found a lovely, strong farm woman I think would suit you much better.”

  Here it came. He’d better put brakes to her plan. “I appreciate that, Auntie, but it’ll be a long time before I’ll be needing a wife—strong or not. Even if I went in search of my land tomorrow, it would take two or three years before I could think of marrying.”

  “You don’t understand what you need a wife for, Ethan. A wife is a man’s help mate to build your life together. From the beginning. A man needs a wife beside him to help plow—or take care of the horses.”

  It’d be useless to argue the reasons for a wife with Aunt Milly. “I’ll give that some thought.” He lifted his cup for a long swig, wishing it were stronger.

  “The young woman I have in mind already has a farm in Montana, a lovely spread with only six months until it’s proved.”

  Ethan almost choked on his coffee. As soon as he caught his breath, he said in a croaking voice. “You found an unmarried woman with a farm? Of her own?”

  Sadness clouded Aunt Milly’s features. “Yes, dear. Lacy Avant. Her husband died recently, leaving her the farm and his elderly grandparents to care for. She’s a hard working woman, but needs a husband quickly, as you can imagine. Of course she wouldn’t have any problem getting prospects. What man wouldn’t jump at the chance to gain his own land with only a few m
onths before it’s free and clear and a good wife to boot? But she doesn’t have the time to search for someone who’ll treat her well. Her situation is quite desperate, really.”

  “That sounds desperate all right, but why did you think of me?”

  She reached over to squeeze his hand. “Because I know you would treat her well, and as I was traveling to Marshallville, I felt the Lord bringing your situation to my attention. I admit I don’t know Lacy well, but I have keen discernment, and I believe she would grow to love you as you deserve to be loved.”

  Ethan scratched his ear where some loose hair clippings were trapped. “I appreciate you thinking of me, Auntie, but the truth is, I never imagined marrying a widow, especially so soon after her husband died. That would be…awkward at best.”

  “I won’t lie to you. Of course Lacy is still grieving, but time will heal that ache she has now. In the meantime, her circumstances demand a living husband now.”

  “What does she look like?” Not that it mattered, since he couldn’t just pull up roots and leave on the next train to marry a desperate widow to save her farm.

  “I’d say she’s a couple of inches taller than I am with hair the color of ripe corn and beautiful amber eyes. Her hands are red and calloused, as you might expect a hard-working farm woman’s to be.”

  “She sounds pretty, but honestly, Aunt Milly, I’d feel bad to move into a home that another man worked for, take his wife. His farm. As sad as it is, it would be better for this woman to sell out and move to town.”

  “You won’t be taking her deceased husband’s land, dear. If Lacy agrees to marry you, you’ll be sharing the farm with her. Remember, she worked as hard for the land as her husband did. It belongs to her now, and she naturally wants to keep it.”

  The urge to argue was still strong. “I’m intrigued, but you know I have to help Jason with harvesting this time of year.”

  Aunt Milly’s lips pressed together in a stubborn line before she spoke. “Jason wouldn’t want you to give up an opportunity for happiness. Besides, he can hire help. Which brings me to the most intriguing part of Lacy’s proposal. She doesn’t want to marry right away, rather she suggests the prospective groom work for her, and if they decide not to marry, she’ll give him a quarter section for six months of labor or a half section for a year. I didn’t see her home, but the land surrounding Buffalo Run is lovely.”

  “I know. I’ve been through that town a couple of times. It’s not far from the mountain range.”

  She fiddled with her napkin, folding it into a neat square. “But if you should marry, as I hope you might, you’d share the full section. Lacy promised to have a contract prepared to cover those details.” She tapped the table between them. “Oh, and her grandparents live with her, so there will be no problem with you taking a room in the house while you work the farm.”

  Aunt Milly and Lacy had certainly covered all possible objections. The proposition sounded too good to be true, and he’d have to see the property first—as well as Lacy.

  And think about it. He needed time to think.

  Silence fell between them as he finished his stew.

  Aunt Milly examined her watch. “I must go. My train will be leaving within a few minutes. Will you think about my proposition, Ethan, and send me a telegram by Friday if you decide to at least go out to meet Lacy?”

  “Sure, I’ll let you know, and I truly do appreciate you stopping by to see me.” His chair tipped back in his haste to stand. He righted it, then pulled her chair out and walked her to the train depot, which was next door to the café.

  The train was already boarding. Ethan followed her to the depot’s platform. Something didn’t feel right, and he was strangely reluctant to see her depart.

  She turned to face him. “You were a sharp-shooter in the Calvary, weren’t you, dear?”

  “You know I was. Ma fussed about it enough.”

  “I suppose I worried about the danger you were in, too, and the west is still a dangerous place. In fact, I thought of you when Lacy mentioned wanting a man who could handle a gun.”

  He wanted to ask her more about that, but she pulled him into a sideways hug, and he knew there wasn’t enough time.

  “Give my regards to Jason and Kitty and your dear mother.”

  “I will.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Safe travels, and I hope you can stay longer next time.”

  She smiled and pivoted to the gesturing porter. Ethan turned on his heel and had covered several steps when Aunt Milly’s voice jerked him around. “Ethan, I forgot one detail.” She crooked a finger for him to return.

  He retraced his steps. Aunt Milly lifted a hand to shield her words.

  “She’s with child.”

  He stood stock still, glued to the platform. He couldn’t force himself to turn away, even as she disappeared into the train.

  Oddly, a memory of his father flashed through his mind. Ethan had been nine years old, just questioning his purpose in life, a little afraid of things he’d learned at Church about his eternal soul. “Pa, I’ve done all the preacher said, confessed and believe, but how will I know if I’m a Christian?” he’d asked.

  Pa had chewed on a sprig of hay for several moments before answering. “You remember the parable of the Good Samaritan?”

  “Yes sir, he was the one who stopped to help that fellow who was in a pickle when everyone else walked by.”

  Pa had patted him on the shoulder. “That’s right, son, you remember good.” He’d walked away, leaving Ethan confused.

  What kind of answer was that? Ethan ran after him. “How does that tell me anything? How will I know if I’m a Christian?”

  Pa had squatted to get at eye-level and took him by the shoulders. “’Cause you’ll be the one who stops. You’ll be the one who reaches out to help that fellow in a pickle.”

  Simple words from a simple man, but so profound they’d clung to Ethan and shaped his understanding of Christian duty better than anything since. His pa was a wise man, and now that he was gone, Ethan was beginning to realize just how wise.

  Lacy’s child wouldn’t have a father.

  Who would need help more than a woman carrying a baby and trying to run a farm by herself? Was it possible that God wanted him to help this widow? And if so, how could he refuse?

  Then Aunt Milly appeared in a window, a dozen back. She smiled and waved. The doors closed. The train’s engine chugged as steam billowed, momentarily obscuring his vision.

  He ran along the side until he was level with Aunt Milly’s window. Holding his hand to his mouth, much as she’d done earlier—not to prevent anyone from hearing but to be heard above the noise. “Aunt Milly,” he shouted, “go ahead and send Lacy a telegram. Tell her I’ll come within a week, and if she wants me, I’ll marry her.”

  That earned him a lot of curious stares, but who cared. These people were just traveling through. And even if one of the locals who knew him had heard, it didn’t matter.

  He’d be in Montana. With Lacy and her child.

  Chapter 4

  If anyone asked Lacy what day it was she wouldn’t have been able to answer. One grueling day blurred into another.

  Work became her saving grace. From the moment she awoke until she dropped into bed at night, she went from task to task, unable to finish one before another demanded attention. But she liked it that way. No time to think. To feel the pain.

  A brisk early autumn wind blew her hair from her forehead, making the job of boiling the wash tolerable. She could no longer leave this to Granny. The dear lady had singed her hand at the stove last week.

  Granny could still cook—better than Lacy—but she had to be supervised around fire or anything more dangerous than a sewing needle.

  Poor Gramps worried over his wife’s failing health, and with reason. He took care of the stock and helped out with the crops when he could, but his arthritis made progress painfully slow.

  Lacy had to depend on Jim and Henry to take care of most of the field work,
but harvest was near, and she knew they couldn’t possibly work their own land and hers. She and Gramps would have to do what they could and hope it was enough to get them through the winter.

  And like a vulture, Malcolm Dye waited.

  She’d just gotten the last pair of Gramps’s overalls into the rinse pot when Sol, her white and tan sheepdog raised on his haunches, a low growl emitting from his throat. Wiping her hands on her apron, Lacy sprinted to the front yard, Sol at her side.

  Nothing disturbed the horizon, but she heard the thunder of horses’ hooves. More than one and coming at a fast gallop. It couldn’t be Jim and Henry. She backtracked to the side of the barn where her rifle was propped against the wall, always loaded, in good working order, and not far from reach.

  She hefted it to her shoulder. The baby kicked her in the ribs, reminding her of how high the stakes were.

  Three horsemen crested the hill coming from Dye’s ranch. She could tell, even from this distance, he rode in the middle. Dye wasn’t much taller than she was, and his hulking thugs always flanked him. On the left, Mack, a burly Irishman, his red head always showing above a crowd of ordinary men. His bulking muscles making most men back away. Steel on the right, a tall, lanky man with drooping, black moustache and mean features. His reputation as a gunslinger followed him all the way from the Southwest.

  Her heart raced as she lifted the rifle into position. Be with me, Lord Jesus.

  They rode to within a hundred yards and halted. Keeping his glare on Lacy, Dye slashed his hand to order his men to stay put. He threw his reins to Steel and slid from the saddle. With hands raised, he walked towards her.

  She kept her finger on the trigger.

  Dye couldn’t keep the swagger out of his step. Dust clung to his black, long-tail coat and derby hat, and she suspected he itched to brush it off. “That’s not a very friendly greeting for a neighbor, Mrs. Avant.”

  “I don’t mean it to be. Throw your gun down and state your business.”

  Sol snarled, making it clear Dye had come close enough. The man stopped a dozen feet in front of her and slowly removed his Colt, then tossed it in the grass. His other hand gripped the derby, sweeping it in front. All the while, Dye’s beady eyes bored into her as he bent into a mock bow.