Out of the Ashes

by ShiningStar

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.

This is Part 1 of a trilogy of stories.

Chapter 1

Nick found Jarrod at the refreshment table and leaned in close. “Who is that man?”

“What man, Brother Nick?”

“The one dancing with our mother.”

Jarrod’s eyes sought the brightly-lit floor where fifty couples kept time to the music. “Why, I do believe it’s our brother Heath.”

Nick snorted. “It wasn’t him a few minutes ago! Or the dance before that—or the one before that one either!”

“Mother’s a grown woman. She can dance with whomever she pleases. If I were you, I’d keep an eye on Audra—who’s danced with every available man in the Valley tonight—and some who aren’t!”

“I’m not worried about Audra!” Nick stalked off leaving his older brother chuckling.

When the party broke up at eleven o’clock, the family—minus Victoria—gathered on the porch of the town hall. “I’ll get the buggy and the horses,” Heath offered, winking at the girl who passed with her parents. “Thanks, Polly,” he called softly.

“Thanks?” Nick asked bluntly. “Thanks for what?”

Heath surveyed him coolly. “For a nice evening, what else? I brought her, remember? She offered to go home with her parents since it’s so late.”

“Oh.” Nick looked around. “Where’s Mother?”

Heath rolled his eyes. “I’ll get the buggy.”

Audra put her hand on her brother’s arm. “She’s probably talking to some of the ladies getting their wraps, Nick. I’ll find her. Are you in that much of a hurry to leave?”

“No—I guess not—but she. . .”

Victoria materialized from the hall on the arm of a tall, well-dressed gentleman whose silver hair matched her own. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed an evening more,” Nick heard her say.

“I echo your sentiments, Victoria. Then you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow evening?”

“Of course.”

The man bent over her hand and kissed it. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Royce.”

Audra giggled. “He kissed her hand,” she murmured to Jarrod.

“He kissed her hand!” Nick echoed so loudly that Victoria startled.

“Nicholas, your voice!”

“Who was that man?” he demanded.

Victoria drew her shawl around her. “His name is Royce Wardell. He’s from New Orleans.”

“Louisiana?”

“Yes, Nicholas, I believe that’s where New Orleans is located.”

Audra took her mother’s arm. “He’s very good-looking, Mother. I danced with him once. It felt like my feet hardly touched the ground.”

Victoria smiled. “I haven’t enjoyed dancing as much in years.”

“You danced enough,” Nick mumbled sulkily.

Victoria’s eyebrows went up sharply. “Do you have a problem with that, Nicholas?”

“Here’s Heath with the buggy,” Jarrod interrupted. “Ladies. . .”

Breakfast was late, the one exception to the strict mealtime schedule that Victoria allowed on a Saturday morning after a social event. She, however, was down early, and Silas heard her humming as she set the table. “Have a good time last night, Mrs. Barkley?” he asked as she returned to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

“I did, Silas. It was the best evening I’ve spent in years—since—well, since Tom died.”

“You’re still a young woman, Mrs. Barkley. You should get out and enjoy yourself.”

“I suppose I’ve focused too much on the children since their father died.”

“They’re not children anymore.”

“No, you’re right. I haven’t been a recluse, Silas, but it’s just that I feel very alone in a crowd—without Tom.”

“Yes, m’am, I can understand that.”

She rose quickly. “I hear someone in the dining room. You can bring breakfast in as soon as it’s ready.”

“Mother!” Nick’s bellow reached her before she got through the short passageway that connected the kitchen and the dining room.

“Nicholas, must you be so loud this early in the morning?”

“It’s after nine.”

“We were out very late last night. Would you like some coffee?”

“Black.”

Her eyes swept him speculatively. “I know that only fruit punch was served. Did you have something stronger outside?”

“No, I didn’t, Mother,” he said impatiently.

She sighed. “I’ll get your coffee.”

Audra hurried in after the rest were seated. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, pausing to kiss her mother before slipping into her chair. “I’m starved!”

“Worked up quite an appetite last night, did you?” Nick asked irritably.

Audra’s eyes widened. “What’s the matter with you this morning? The punch wasn’t.. .”

“I’m not hung over!” Nick yelled.

“Nicholas,” Victoria said, closing her eyes.

Jarrod and Heath seemed amused. “Well, you’re not your usual sunny self, Brother Nick,” Jarrod observed, winking at Heath.

Nick grabbed his fork and plunged it into the stack of wheatcakes on the platter in the middle of the table.

“Mother, are you going into town tonight to have dinner with Mr. Wardell?” Audra asked.

“Yes, I am.”

The syrup Nick was pouring splashed onto the white tablecloth.

“Nick, what’s gotten into you this morning?” Victoria asked.

“Nothing.” He set the pitcher down so hard that the silverware rattled slightly.

Audra shook her head. “I’ll ride in with you, if you don’t mind. I told Polly I’d stay the night and help her with the jacket her father brought back from San Francisco. It doesn’t fit exactly right.”

“That’s fine, Audra. I’m to meet him at the hotel around six.”

“I’ll be ready.” She buttered her wheatcakes. “What are you going to wear?”

“If we’re riding, the choice is limited.”

“You could change at Polly’s.”

“I could—yes, I could. What a good idea, Audra!”

“I think you should wear the blue dress—the new one with the braid on the skirt. It looks lovely on you.”

“Is Mr. Wardell seeing you home?” Nick emphasized the man’s name harshly.

“Of course.”

“And then ride all the way back to town alone? Looks like a city dude to me.”

Victoria tried not to smile as she realized the reason for Nick’s pique. “You mean he looks like a gentleman?”

Nick didn’t reply.

“Don’t let appearances fool you, Nicholas. Royce grew up on the Tennessee frontier and commanded troops during the war.”

“Theirs or ours?”

Victoria sighed. “The war has been over for a long time.”

“Sounds like he gets around,” Heath said. “What’s he doing in New Orleans?”

“He has a shipping firm—cotton, cattle.”

“Is he buying cattle in Stockton? We’ve got some ready for market.”

“Actually, he was just passing through on his way to San Francisco when the desk clerk at the hotel mentioned the dance, and he decided to stay. He said he hadn’t been out in society for years—since his wife died during the war, as a matter of fact.”

“And he’s staying over again,” Jarrod said slyly. “I wonder why.”

Victoria laughed. “You don’t wonder at all!”

* * * * * * * *

At the secluded table in the corner of the hotel dining room, Victoria and Royce Wardell lingered over dinner and coffee afterwards. “I hate for the evening to end,” she said reluctantly, “but it’s a long way to the ranch.”

“I’ve hired a buggy at the livery stable.” He rose and pulled out her chair.

“It seems a shame for you to have to make the trip both ways. I could drive out and bring the buggy back when we come in to church tomorrow.”

“You could, but I’d like the pleasure of your company for just a little longer, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Victoria leaned back in the buggy and closed her eyes. “It’s been a lovely evening, Royce. Thank you.”

“I thank you, Victoria.”

“Will you miss anything important in San Francisco because you stayed over?”

“I wired instructions to my agent. It’s a simple business contract with a small shipping company that makes short runs north from there. Actually, I didn’t have to come at all, but I hadn’t been out of New Orleans in two years. I suppose I was restless.”

“I should think that New Orleans offers all kinds of entertainment.”

He laughed. “Most of it the wrong kind. I’m rather set in my ways, you see. My father was an itinerant Methodist preacher—the fire and brimstone kind. He put the fear into me early on.”

“I grew up in a mining camp. There was fire and brimstone, all right—the men raised hell regularly!”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Is that where you met your husband?”

“No, I’d gone back East to live with an aunt and attend school. I met Tom at a party.”

“I met Catherine at a party, too. I was a second-year cadet at West Point, and she was the belle of the county.”

“And you fell in love at first sight.”

“She was engaged to another fellow, actually. It took me awhile to show her the error of her ways.”

“You never had children?”

“One. A little girl who died at birth.”

“I lost a child at birth. It’s very difficult.”

“They’re unfulfilled promises, aren’t they?” There was a wistfulness in his voice.

“Yes, they are.”

“Catherine followed me wherever I was posted, but when the war began, of course I had to resign my commission in order to fight for the South. It wasn’t that I believed in what it stood for so much as the fact that it was my home. My brothers were in the Confederate Army—my uncles, my cousins—how could I chance meeting them in combat—maybe killing one of them?

“You couldn’t.”

“I knew we couldn’t win, of course, but I put on the uniform. Because of my experience, I was made an officer and given a commission.” He sighed. “It was a bloody four years.”

“My sons were there.”

“I’m thankful you got them back in one piece.”

“Heath was a prisoner at Carterson. . .”

“Carterson!”

“You know of it?”

“Who doesn’t? I had nothing to do with it, you understand. Never came near it. Matt Bentell was the commandant. I knew him. He wasn’t a bad person, but he didn’t have much to work with. I suppose he did the best he could.”

“Heath doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“I can imagine he doesn’t. How does he feel about his mother having dinner with a Rebel?”

“The war’s been over a long time, Royce. It’s past time to move on.”

He helped her out of the buggy and walked with her to the door. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Are you still a church-going man?” She smiled into the darkness.

“Not like my Papa taught me, but. . .”

“Services are at eleven o’clock—the building at the end of the main street. There’s a church picnic tomorrow. Shall I bring enough for an extra person?”

“Of course. Why not?” He bent over her hand again. “Goodnight, Victoria. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Goodnight, Royce.” She stood in the door and watched him drive away.

Nick rose from the second-to-bottom stair as his mother approached. “You’re home.”

“Where else would I be?”

Nick shrugged.

“Isn’t this a little odd—you waiting up for me?”

“The whole thing’s a little odd if you ask me.”

“What’s odd about it, Nick?”

“You—going out—with a man.”

She blew out her breath tiredly. “Oh, Nicholas, you’re so transparent! You’re jealous!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Since your father died, I’ve given you and your brothers and Audra all of my attention—and now when I do something for myself, you don’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t have to.” She paused to kiss his cheek as she swept past him up the stairs.

Nick, looking after her, felt a slight gnawing of guilt, but he pushed it away. Tomorrow he’d have a talk with Mr. Royce Wardell if he was still in town. A long talk. He punched the palm of one hand with his fist and then the newel post as he started up the stairs.

Chapter2

Nick observed that, to his credit, Royce Wardell didn’t attempt to sit in the Barkley pew but rather took a seat in the back. He turned around to get a good look at him. He was good-looking all right, his clean-shaven face almost unlined, no sagging jowls that might indicate a loose lifestyle, blue eyes clear and unrimmed. His shoulders were broad, his posture reminiscent of his military experience.

“Turn around, Nick!” Audra hissed at him, pinching his sleeve. “You’re embarrassing!”

Nick scowled and slouched in the pew.

“Sit up!” Audra said, tightlipped.

He straightened grudgingly. Beyond Audra, Heath stifled a smile, but Nick knew he thought the whole thing was funny. Well, why shouldn’t he? Only three years ago, he’d ridden in here from nowhere, and Mother had accepted him completely, totally ignoring his—Nick’s—feelings. Now there was this Royce Wardell. . . He felt Audra’s elbows in his ribs as the congregation rose to sing.

“Holy, holy, holy!” he boomed, slightly off-key.

This time Heath not only smiled but laughed softly. Victoria frowned. Beside her, Jarrod shook his head almost imperceptibly and reflected that, if his mother had invited Royce Wardell to the picnic afterward—and he expected she had-- it was going to be an interesting afternoon.

* * * * * * * *

Audra and Heath spread the red-and-white checked cloth on the grass in the grove of trees back of the church. “Look for ants, Heath,” she instructed.

“Don’t have to look for them. They’ll find us.”

“You’re impossible!”

“Not me. Now, Nick…”

“Hush! Here comes Mother with Mr. Wardell.”

Heath put out his hand. “I’m Heath,” he said. “I believe you’ve met my sister Audra.”

Royce Wardell’s handshake was firm. “Hello, Heath. Yes, I had the pleasure of dancing with Miss Audra last night—but only once. She was spoken for the rest of the time.”

“That’s my little sister—the belle of the ball.”

Audra punched his arm lightly. “You’re having lunch with us today, I hope, Mr. Wardell.”

“Your mother most kindly invited me. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“There’re two more baskets in the wagon,” Heath said. “I’m on my way to get them.”

The two men walked off together. “Oh, Mother, he’s such a nice man!” Audra enthused.

“He’s very nice, dear. Where are your brothers?”

“I think Jarrod’s having a talk with Nick.”

“I certainly hope so. If the floor had opened and swallowed me up in church, I wouldn’t have minded. Nick can be so—so tactless!”

Audra giggled. “He’s just Nick.”

Inside the empty church, Jarrod had Nick backed into a corner. “Look, Mother invited him. He’s her guest. You were taught the same manners as the rest of us—not that you use them as often!”

Nick glared at him. “She didn’t get home until almost eleven!”

“What did you expect? It’s an hour’s ride from town!”

“What were they doing so long?”

“What do you do when you take a young lady to dinner?”

“Eat. Talk. And Mother’s not a young lady!”

“I expect that’s what they were doing, too, and I’ll ignore the last part of your statement. Nick, for pity’s sake, be nice or keep quiet!”

Nick kept quiet, but it was obvious to everyone that he wasn’t enjoying himself. The conversation, as it always did, turned to Audra’s work with the orphanage. “The dance last night was to raise money for a new building, you know,” she told Mr. Wardell. “The old one is in bad shape.”

“I spent the whole day making repairs just last week,” Nick growled.

“Yes, and everyone appreciated your volunteering to help, Nick,” his sister said sweetly. “But we have to have a new building sooner or later.”

“How many children do you have?” Royce asked.

“Sixteen at the moment. Most of them are old enough to look after themselves pretty well, but there are three not in school yet.”

“How many employees?”

“Four—Mr. and Mrs. Gordon are missionaries from the East—Rhode Island—then Hattie Proctor does the cooking. Willie Putnam cleans and helps keep things up. Willie’s a little slow, but he’s good-hearted and dependable, and it’s the perfect job for him. The children adore him. And several of the girls in town volunteer as I do.”

“Do the children go to school in town?”

“Yes, but some of the parents don’t like it. I can’t understand their thinking.”

“Well, people are often afraid that tragedy is contagious, you know. I expect the parents look at the children from the orphanage and think how terrible it would be if their own children were left—and since they would rather not think about that, they don’t want the children from the orphanage around to remind them.”

“I never thought of it that way! I believe you may be right, Mr. Wardell!”

“California is prosperous country. People expect to thrive here. Most just want to forget the hard times they left behind.”

“Mother said you were from the South,” Heath said.

“I was born in Tennessee—though not on a plantation and not to wealthy parents. My father was a traveling preacher, so there was never much money. But my mother took in laundry and earned enough to pay for me to attend a school that a neighbor ran in her home, and eventually I won an appointment to West Point. The military was a good career.”

At the mention of the mother taking in laundry, Heath warmed to the man. “So you were in the Union Army.”

Royce Wardell shook his head. “I resigned my commission and fought for the South, Heath. Perhaps it was foolish, but I couldn’t turn my back on my family. I couldn’t risk putting a bullet though one of them.” He shook his head, remembering. “Of course, your next thought is that I didn’t mind putting a bullet though someone else’s brother or son or husband. Of course, I did.”

“War is a dirty business all the way around,” Jarrod said slowly. “Both sides suffered—and perhaps the South most of all since the majority of the fighting was there.”

Royce nodded. “Sherman didn’t leave much behind.”

“I never understood that in principle,” Jarrod said. “I understood the strategy, but to wage war on helpless women and children. . .”

“Their husbands and sons were the enemy, after all, but I know what you’re saying, Jarrod.”

Heath leaned on one elbow and regarded the man thoughtfully. “I spent eight months in Carterson.”

“Oh?” Royce considered it prudent not to divulge that he had prior knowledge of Heath’s experience.

“You know Matt Bentell?”

“I’m acquainted with him.”

“I swore I’d kill him if I ever caught up with him again.”

“I expect there are many young men who share your desire to spill his blood. Carterson was a travesty—but Matt Bentell was caught in a situation not of his own making. I’m not excusing what you and thousands of others suffered, Heath. Not at all. Maybe Bentell could’ve done more—then again, maybe he couldn’t. I suppose only he knows the truth.”

Heath looked at the man with growing respect. “I guess you’re right. Anyway, the war’s over.”

“The war’s over, but its effects will be felt in this country for a hundred years or more,” Royce said slowly. “Your great-grandchildren will hate and distrust mine—that is, if I had any—and the question of slavery isn’t really settled.”

“Why do you say that?” Jarrod asked.

“Slavery is outlawed, of course, but there’s a wide gulf between black and white in the United States and its territories. It will enlarge in the years to come—it can’t help it. I foresee more bloodshed—not another all-out war, perhaps, but violence just the same—before it’s settled.”

“Silas was a slave, wasn’t he, Mother?” Audra asked.

“He was born into slavery in Virginia.”

“He doesn’t hate us.”

“Silas has been part of our family for years—he and your father worked side by side when we first came out here. You don’t hate your family.” Victoria shook out the cuptowel that had protected her skirt from lunch. “Someone needs to rinse the plates at the pump before we put them back in the basket.”

“I’ll do it.” Audra got up. “And Nick will help—won’t you, Nick?”

Royce Wardell stayed in Stockton for three weeks and saw Victoria everyday. Sometimes he visited the ranch where they rode for hours, often spreading a picnic lunch beside a stream. Often they lost track of the time as they talked. He found her sharp mind challenging, and open to new ideas, but he tried not to spend too much time looking at her slender body. He thought he’d put all that behind him long ago, but now sometimes he wondered.

For her part, Victoria felt the years fall away. She wasn’t old—only just past fifty—but widowhood had to some extent stripped her of feeling so alive as she did now. Royce was well-educated, fascinating to talk to, and, unfortunately, the perfect gentleman. Sometimes she wished he’d do more than just take her arm as they walked or boost her impersonally onto her horse. Some nights she found sleep elusive as she stared into the darkness and saw his face. Some nights she enfolded the empty pillow in her arms and wondered what it would be like to lie next to the warm body of a man again.

The family—except for Nick—were welcoming when Royce came for dinner, but at least Nick sulked quietly. Once as they were sitting on the creek bank, Royce observed that Nick seemed to dislike him.

“Nick doesn’t like change,” Victoria said. “The ranch is his kingdom, the house his castle—and we—Jarrod, Heath, Audra, Gene, and I—his devoted subjects.”

“I’d say that all of you are an unusually loyal and loving family.”

“Yes, we are. I’m very fortunate.”

“You like California then?”

“It’s been my home for most of my life. I only have one aunt left back East, and she’s almost ninety. I try to go back and see her every year. I suppose she won’t be there much longer.”

Royce stretched his long legs toward the water and lay back in the grass. “My mother died only last year. She didn’t want to live in New Orleans, so I built her a new house in Tennessee and hired someone to help her. Papa didn’t leave anything, of course—well, except his good name.”

“That’s important.”

“Yes. But my brothers and I have done well. I had three and lost the oldest at Gettysburg. Edmund and Jacob acquired some land together and built up a nice farm. They were near enough to Mamma to look in on her more than I could.”

“Do they have families?”

“Large ones. I have ten nieces and nephews—some of whom are married with families of their own. I suppose at one time I might have considered joining them when I left the military, but…" He stopped abruptly. “My fortunes lay elsewhere.”

“Where do you live in New Orleans?”

“In the French Quarter. It’s a small place compared with many others, but I’m hardly ever there. I have an office near the docks where I spend most of my time.” He smiled at her. “You know, Victoria, I’ve told you more about myself than I’ve ever shared with any of my business associates and most of my friends. I’m not usually so forthcoming.”

“Most men aren’t.”

“That’s another thing—you always understand me. Why is that?”

“Didn’t your wife?”

He seemed surprised. “Yes—yes, she did.”

“I think it’s a quality that women acquire when they’ve been married awhile. Companionship becomes a necessary part of passion and romance—otherwise there would be a perpetual courtship and not much of a marriage.”

“I believe you’re right.” He sat up and felt for a pebble in the grass beside him and tossed it neatly into the water. Circles spread out from where it disappeared. “I think life is very much like that pebble. It’s gone now—I only had one chance to toss it, and I didn’t know exactly where it would land. But those ripples are evidence that it was there. I’d like to think that someone will remember I’ve been here.”

She didn’t reply, but when he glanced in her direction, he knew she had understood him completely.

Only an urgent message saying that his presence was required in New Orleans spurred Royce Wardell to reluctantly pack his bags. He asked Victoria to have dinner with him on the night before he left.

“I hate to go,” he said as they waited for dessert.

“I hate to see you go,” she replied.

“I can come back, of course, and you—you might like to visit New

Orleans.”

“I’m sure I would.”

“I’m fifty-five years old, Victoria. I’ve been alone a long time, and I thought I was content—but I realize now that I’m not.”

She waited.

“I was very much in love with my wife. We had almost twenty good years. After she died. . .”

“How did she die, Royce? I’ve told you about Tom.”

He took a deep breath. “I sent her home to her family in New York when I took command of my brigade. Then in sixty-three I was wounded. When she got word, she insisted on making the trip to Virginia to care for me. You either lived or died on your own in a field hospital, and she was determined that I would live. She brought food and supplies with her and nursed me for three months until I was fit to rejoin my men.” He toyed with the spoon beside his untouched ice cream.

“I arranged an escort for her—an old friend from West Point agreed to take her as far as Washington, D.C.”

“A Union man?”

“Yes. I’d managed to get word to him privately, and he agreed to do me the favor in spite of the circumstances. I put her in the wagon that morning—kissed her goodbye—and she drove off to meet him at the place we’d arranged. I never saw her again.” He took a deep breath. “After the war I managed to track down the information that he’d been there—hanging from a tree. She had no choice but to continue on alone. She was a strong woman, but she was no match for the band of deserters she encountered. They . . .”

Victoria put her hand on his arm. “You needn’t go on.”

“I need to say it. I need to tell you.” His voice was tight with pain. “They raped her, Victoria—all four of them. They—they used her repeatedly, and then they shot her, took the horse and wagon and left her there on the road—left her naked. . .and bleeding. . .” His voice broke.

“I’m so sorry, Royce. So very sorry.”

“Like Heath, I swore I’d kill the men—those animals—if I ever found them.”

“Did you?”

“Find them? Yes. It took me five years, but I found them—and I’d have certainly killed them if they hadn’t already been in prison for other offenses. Two of them were hanged later. The others—I suppose they’re still there. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see them again.”

Victoria’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

Their ice cream melted as they sat in silent reflection. Finally he folded his napkin. “I’ll see you home now. My train leaves quite early.”

After awhile, Royce stopped the buggy. “I’ve done my grieving, Victoria. Have you?”

“I think so.”

“I need for you to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“I didn’t expect to fall in love again.”

“No.”

“At my age, I don’t have time to play the courting game.”

“No.”

“Will you marry me, Victoria?”

Her reply was instantaneous. “I’ll marry you, Royce.”

When he put his arms around her, she didn’t think of Tom. When his lips touched hers, gently at first, then more urgently, she didn’t think of anything at all.

Chapter 3

Royce asked her not to see him off at the railroad station the next morning. “I have to go—and I’m not sure I can if you’re there. But I’ll write, and you’ll let me know when I can come back for you.” He held her and stroked her hair. “Oh, my love.”

She was thankful that Nick wasn’t waiting up for her that night. There would have been too many questions about the tears that blinded her as she ran up the stairs and shut herself in her room.

She told Audra first. “Oh, Mother, I’m so happy for you!” She wrapped her arms around Victoria. “So very happy! I’ve known for a long time that he was falling in love with you, but I wasn’t sure you returned his feelings.”

“Do you feel I’m being disloyal to your father, Audra?”

“Father’s been dead for four years. I loved him, and I know you did, too, but he’s not coming back. You have a right to marry again.”

“You understand that it means I’ll be living in New Orleans since that’s where Royce’s business is.”

Audra dimpled. “I’ve always wanted to see New Orleans! I’ll adore visiting there—after the honeymoon, of course!”

Victoria busied herself at the dressing table to hide the color in her cheeks. “Of course, you’ll visit, and I’ll come back here, too.”

“When are you going to tell the boys?”

“Soon—but one at a time—and very carefully.”

“Jarrod and Heath will be glad about it, and I’ve written to Eugene that you were seeing someone.”

“You’ve—Audra, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not? Isn’t it better he had a little forewarning?”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Do tell the boys soon, Mother. I’m not very good at keeping secrets, you know.”

Victoria sighed. It wouldn’t be difficult to tell Jarrod—or Heath—or even Eugene. But Nick was a different matter. Nick was always a different matter.

She wrote to Eugene first, and his reply came by telegraph. "Congratulations! Wardell one lucky man! Home for wedding. When? All love, Gene.”

She went to Jarrod next, choosing his office rather than the house so that they wouldn’t be interrupted. “I’ve known for weeks, Mother,” he said.

“How?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, Lovely Lady? And Audra looks like the cat that swallowed the proverbial canary.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“If you’re happy—and you obviously are—then so am I.”

“You’re being honest with me, Jarrod?”

“Completely.”

“I suppose Heath knows also.”

“Yes, but I’d have one of these mother-son talks with him, too, as soon as possible.”

“And Nick?”

Jarrod frowned. “Nick never knows what he doesn’t want to.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. No, I have to do that, Jarrod.” She rose and started for the door, then stopped and turned around. “But I wouldn’t mind if you were on hand when I do.”

She ran into Heath coming out of the general store. He threw up his hands in mock surprise. “What? No packages? How did you manage to spend a whole morning in town without buying anything?”

“That’s Audra, not her mother.”

He grinned. “She got it from somewhere.”

“Heath, I need to talk to you.”

“Privately?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s walk down to the church. That’s the quietest place in town on a weekday.”

He dusted the step for her with his handkerchief, and they sat down. “Does this have anything to do with Royce Wardell?”

“Jarrod said that you knew.”

“It’s written all over your face, Mother. I’m happy for you. There aren’t many men I’d think were good enough for you, but he is—or seems to be—and I’m not a bad judge of character.”

“Thank you, Heath.”

“When are you going to tell Nick?”

“I don’t know. Soon. Tonight.”

“And you dread it, don’t you?”

“I understand how he feels. Nick isn’t complicated.”

“Just mule-headed. But he accepted me, you know. I was a bitter pill for him to swallow, but now he’s just about the best friend I ever had.”

She nodded. “I know. I know.”

Heath leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Want to wait until I’m finished in town and let me drive you home?”

“No, I’ll ride on out. I need some time to think.”

“About what you’re going to say to Nick—or Mr. Wardell?” He helped her up from the low step.

She smiled and took his hand, and they walked slowly down the street to her waiting horse.

* * * * * * * *

She picked at her dinner nervously, and finally, when everyone had finished, she asked Nick if he’d walk out on the terrace with her. “I’ve got some papers for Jarrod to go over before tomorrow,” he said brusquely.

“This will only take a moment.”

He offered her his arm, and they left the dining room. Jarrod, Heath, and Audra waited a few seconds before following them. “Poor Mother,” Audra whispered. “This isn’t going to be pleasant for her.”

Jarrod put his finger to his lips, and they gathered at the partially-opened veranda door to listen.

“What I have to say is this, Nicholas. Royce Wardell has asked me to marry him, and I’ve accepted.”

Nick stepped away from her. “You’ve made up your mind then.”

“I believe I just said so.”

“Is the subject open for discussion?”

“No.”

She didn’t miss the hurt look that he tried to hide by clenching his teeth angrily. “Then there isn’t anything to talk about, is there?”

“I’d like to think that you’re happy for me.”

“Of course, Mother. I want you to be happy,” he said stiffly.

“Royce is a good man.”

“What do you really know about him?”

“All that I need to—and that I’m in love with him.”

Nick shrugged. “All right then.”

“Nick. . .”

He walked away.

* * * * * * * *

“If you don’t have him investigated, I will!” Nick stormed to Jarrod later that night when the others had gone upstairs.

“I’m a step ahead of you, Brother Nick.”

“And?”

“Pinkerton found nothing. From all accounts, he’s a man given to clean living and ethical business practices. Everything he told us checks out, including what he didn’t tell us—that his first wife was brutally raped and murdered by Union deserters.”

Nick shook his head. “All right, I’m sorry about that. What about money?”

“He’s not after the Barkley money, Nick. He makes plenty of his own. Are you really suspicious of him, or is it the idea of Mother getting married that bothers you?”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Nick hurled himself across the room and leaned on the mantle, glancing up at the portrait of his father. “What do you think he’d say?”

“I think he’d say that love is a scarce commodity and should be valued wherever it’s found.”

“Do you now?”

“I do.”

“You really want a step-daddy?”

Jarrod laughed. “At this point in our lives, Brother Nick, Royce will simply be a good friend—our mother’s husband. We’re adults. And by the terms of father’s will—which I know intimately, by the way—everything passed to mother for her lifetime and immediately passes on to the five of us—you, me, Audra, and Eugene.”

“That’s four.”

“Father didn’t know about Heath when he made his will, of course. Didn’t we agree that each of us would put a quarter of our inheritance in Heath’s name when the time comes?”

“Yeah, we did. He knows about it?”

“I made him aware of our decision.”

“What’d he say?”

“You know Heath.”

“He agreed to it?”

“He said it was up to us—that he wasn’t thinking about trying to break a will in court or anywhere else.” Jarrod put his feet up on the desk and leaned back. “Mother’s remarriage won’t affect anything.”

“She won’t be here—he’ll take her to New Orleans!”

“Do you want her here—or happy?”

“That’s not a fair question!”

“Your attitude isn’t fair. All of us—except you—have given her our blessing.”

“I can’t do it!”

“You didn’t think you could accept Heath three years ago either, but you did.”

“That was different.”

“Was it? A new member of the family—Heath or Royce Wardell, it

makes no difference.”

“It does to me!” Nick straightened up, slapping the mantle angrily. “And I think it would make a difference to him, too.” He pointed meaningfully at his father’s picture.

“Why?”

Nick shrugged and walked out.

Chapter 4

Victoria sat at her desk writing the letter that Royce was waiting for. “I’ve told all the children—my grown-up children! As you might expect, the reaction was positive from everyone but Nick. It hurts, but I have to believe that he’ll come around as he did with Heath.”

She let her gaze drift to the family picture taken shortly after Heath came. It had meant so much to her to have it taken. Even Nick was smiling. She hadn’t seen him smile in a long time now.

“I’d like to come to New Orleans for a visit. It might be nice to see you in your own ‘territory’—as you saw me in mine. It might also give Nick time to accept things. Oh, not that it makes a difference, Royce! As you said, we haven’t time to play the courting game—and we’re not young and impetuous either. It will be a good time to plan for the future—a private time for the two of us.”

Royce’s reply was all that she’d hoped. “I want all of your children to wish you well, my darling Victoria, but I have to say quite honestly that I’ve been terrified that Nick’s disapproval would sway you. As soon as you know the date you will arrive, I’ll make reservations for you at the hotel nearest my house. Need I say that I’ll be counting the days?”

Jarrod put her on the morning train ten days later. “Now, Mother, you’ll wire us as soon as you arrive, won’t you? It’s a long trip.”

“I’ll wire from the station,” she promised. “Jarrod, you will. . .”

“Talk to Nick? I’ll try, Mother, but I’m making no promises. You know, unless you’re planning something big, it might be better for you and Royce to be married quietly in New Orleans.”

“You may be right, but I’d let you know before we took such a step.”

He embraced her tightly. “Mother, do what’s right for you. It’s your turn.”

“Thank you, Jarrod. I know you mean that.”

It was raining in New Orleans the morning she arrived. Royce hurried her into the waiting cab before he kissed her almost timidly. “Did you bring this wet weather with you?”

“No, but I’d like to send some of it back,” she laughed.

“How are you, Victoria? Tired? It was a long trip.”

“A little tired—but so glad to be here.” She slipped a gloved hand into his. “I don’t want to keep you from business. I’m perfectly capable of amusing myself at the hotel during the day, and Audra sent along several of the novels she’s been reading lately. I suspect they may be a little racy, but. . .”

“Right now my business is you.”

Once the man had deposited her bags in the sitting room of the hotel suite and departed with a generous tip from Royce, Victoria put her hands on Royce’s shoulders. “I should like a better welcome than I received in the cab,” she said softly.

He obliged her. “I suppose I’m rather clumsy at my age.”

“Of course, you aren’t.” She put her face against his coat and savored the scent of his cologne.

“I’m going to let you get settled while I check in at my office. Then I’ll come back and take you to lunch. Do you like lobster?”

“It’s not on the menu in Stockton, but I can taste it already.”

They shared several more soft kisses, each one more urgent than the one before, until finally Royce stepped back. “You’ll have time for a nap, Victoria. After we have lunch, I’ll show you my place.”

“I’d like that.”

He touched her cheek gently with one finger and left quickly.

In the evening they sat on the second-floor balcony of his house and watched the traffic in the street. “It’s certainly a busy place,” Victoria observed. “Even after dark.”

“You’re used to the quiet, aren’t you?”

“On the ranch but not in town. Stockton can be a wild place at times.”

“Would you prefer to live in the country? I’ve had my agent keeping an eye out for available property.”

“I’d prefer to live anywhere you choose, Royce.”

“You can always go back to the ranch for a visit if the city gets too much for you.” He kissed the palm of her hand that had been resting in his. “I do love you, Victoria.”

She smiled. “I do love hearing that.”

He hesitated. “Did you know that Jarrod had me investigated?” He watched covertly for her reaction.

“I didn’t know, but I would expect him to do something like that. I expect he’d investigate me if he thought it was necessary!”

“I’m not offended, you understand. I just wondered if you knew.”

“Jarrod keeps his own counsel. Apparently he was satisfied with what he found out. He even suggested to me that we might want to be married while I’m here.”

“Would you like that?”

“I thought about it during the trip.”

“Did you reach a decision?”

“Audra wants to orchestrate something rather elaborate, and I hate to deprive her, but—I think Jarrod’s right, Royce. We could be married here whenever we’re ready.”

His eyes lit up. “I was ready before I left you in Stockton!”

“That might have been rushing things a bit.”

“What do you think of the house? Will you be comfortable here? You can make any changes you want, of course. You met Isabel—she doesn’t live in, but she cooks and cleans satisfactorily. You might want. . .”

“Silas says I get in his way in the kitchen, but I like keep my hand in.”

“Isabel would turn the cooking over to you, I’m sure.” He refilled her glass with the lemony concoction that he’d told her was a specialty in the city. “So—when would you like to get married?”

“It seems a shame to pay for such an elaborate hotel suite when you have a bed here,” she said casually.

“A very big bed for only one person.” He took a deep breath. “And very empty.”

Two days later, Jarrod read the telegram aloud at dinner. “Being married on Friday. Letter follows. Much love to all, Mother.”

“Now before anyone says anything, I suggested to her that being married there might solve a multitude of problems. Audra, I know you had your heart set on…”

“They’ll come back to visit soon, and we’ll have a reception!” Her deep dimples seemed to cover her face as she smiled agreeably.

Jarrod nodded. “That’s fine, honey.”

Heath didn’t look at Nick across the table. “I didn’t think they should wait anyway. Life’s short.”

“Well, that’s just fine!” Nick yelled, knocking his chair over as he got up. “You’re all crazy! That’s our mother we’re talking about!”

“What do you have against the man, Nick?” Jarrod asked curiously.

“Nothing! I don’t have anything against him!”

“Except that he loves Mother.”

“I don’t see how all of you can treat this like some sort of fairy tale with a happy ending! Don’t you see how disloyal this is to Father?”

Heath cleared his throat. “I don’t think we can talk about disloyalty on her part, Nick. Not while I’m sitting here anyway.”

“Father wasn’t perfect,” Jarrod said. “We all know that. But he loved Mother, and they were suited to each other. They were married happily for thirty years.”

“And he’s only been gone four!” Nick shouted, righting his chair and sitting down again.

“Is there a timetable for this thing?” Jarrod asked. “Would you approve it in five years? Ten?”

Nick scowled. “I don’t know!”

Audra teared up. “I know Father would want her to be happy, Nick. I just know he would!”

“She was happy! She was just fine until. . .”

“Are you so sure of that, Nick?” Jarrod asked. “She actually told you she was perfectly content, perfectly satisfied to be the Widow Barkley for the rest of her life? She was barely eighteen when I was born! She’s spent her entire life working with Father, taking care of us. . .and I for one outgrew being taken care of a long time ago. Didn’t you?”

Nick took a swallow of water.

“Didn’t you?” Jarrod asked in a voice that demanded an answer.

“Sure.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She’s not just our mother, Nick,” Audra said softly. “She’s a woman, too.”

Nick’s face flushed darkly.

“So that’s it,” Jarrod said. “You can’t accept that she might need more than just being. . .”

Nick’s hand shook as he put his napkin on the table. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just don’t know.” Then he left the table.

They were married in a small chapel near the docks by a minister who had left an established church in Ohio and come south to bring the waterfront inhabitants of New Orleans into the fold. Victoria wore a silver-gray silk dress that reflected her hair and a sapphire pendant, Royce’s wedding gift to her.

Before she’d left Stockton, she’d taken off Tom Barkley’s ring and put it away in her jewel chest. The wide gold band was dull and scarred, even worn thin in places. She’d kissed it softly before it disappeared into the velvet-lined box. When Royce had offered her a choice of wedding rings, she’d chosen a slender platinum circle of tiny diamonds. It would still look new in thirty years—if she had thirty years. The working times were behind her.

Their wedding dinner was hosted by the Vandermeers, a Dutch couple who had befriended Royce when he first came to New Orleans, and attended by twenty or so of his business associates. Afterwards, they hailed a cab and drove home.

Victoria had moved most of her things to the house the day before. While Royce locked up—and, she suspected, had a quick drink for courage—she unpacked her remaining bag and put on her dressing gown. She wished she hadn’t eaten quite so much shrimp at dinner—her stomach felt unsettled, and she berated herself for the attack of nerves.

“You’re not seventeen, Victoria,” she told herself silently. “Heaven knows, you aren’t ignorant the way you were when you married the first time!” She heard Royce’s footsteps on the stairs and gripped the edge of the bureau.

Royce stepped quietly into the room. “Is everything all right?”

She turned to face him. “I suppose I’m having an attack of bridal jitters. At least, the shrimp I had for dinner says so!”

“If you were a man, I’d offer you a drink. I just had one.”

She hid her smile. “Did it help?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. For weeks I haven’t thought about anything but this night. And now—now I’m scared to death, Victoria!” His chagrin was appealingly real.

She felt suddenly calm then. “Of course you are. Your manly pride is at stake.”

“It’s just that it’s been so long.” The words almost died in his throat.

“Longer for you, I know.” She sighed. “I don’t know if it’s easier being young and ignorant or. . .” She crossed the room and stood in front of him. “When we’re young, we’re in such a hurry, aren’t we? And then at our age, we think we have to hurry before time runs out!”

He laughed a little. “When you stepped off the train last week, I wanted to take you straight to the hotel and—are you shocked?”

“Not really. I think, Royce, that what I’m trying to say is that our past was the future we were hurrying toward. It’s over. Now there’s just the present, and if we don’t savor that. . .maybe it’s time to stop thinking about next week or tomorrow or even the next hour. Maybe we just need to put our hands over the face of the clock and take this moment.”

He held out his arms, and she came to him, pressing her face against the cool, smooth fabric of his suit. The steady beating of his heart soothed and excited her.

He seemed to sway slightly. “I love you,” he murmured. “I want you—so desperately, achingly much.”

She wasn’t aware of how long they stood holding each other, but after awhile, when he untied the sash of her dressing gown and slipped his hands inside, she knew everything was right.

Chapter 5

It was a new experience for Victoria to see a husband off to the office every morning. Almost as soon as he had gone, she began anticipating his return for lunch. Isabel gave up the kitchen willingly. She spoke mostly French, so there wasn’t much conversation, but she immediately accepted Victoria as mistress of the house and was a pleasant presence in the house.

Victoria had decided that, as her wedding gift to Royce, she would make the house more habitable and inviting. The furniture was good, so she turned her attention to the drapes and linens. Isabel accompanied her to the market and bargained doggedly for watercolors by local artists. Framed, they added color and interest to the bare walls. Every night when Royce came home, he found something new to admire.

But it wasn’t the transformation of his dreary bachelor quarters that drew him to the house with such speed. It was Victoria’s welcoming arms, the smell of something more substantial than Creole cuisine, the stimulating conversation that replaced long evenings of silent reading or just staring into the fire.

Later they would go upstairs and sit on the balcony where he would smoke a cigar, but they never lingered long. The bed inside was too welcoming—held too many pleasures whether they made love or simply fell asleep snuggled together like two tired children, each made secure by the presence of the other.

His business associates noticed the change in him. “You’re always in such a hurry to get home in the evening,” the Vandemeer’s son Rand prodded him. “Of course, if I had waiting for me what you have waiting for you. . .”

Royce laughed good-naturedly. “When you’re finished sowing your wild oats, I’d heartily recommend married life.”

“I haven’t sown wild oats in years,” Rand protested. “But I haven’t found a woman with whom I want to spent the rest of my life either. Seriously, Royce, I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Rand, I know you are. I’m happy for myself!”

The men in the office, unable to pretend they weren’t listening, laughed with some degree of reluctance.

“New Orleans must be very different for her after living on a ranch in California for so long,” Rand observed.

“She claims to find it fascinating, actually. I expect she’ll go back for a visit soon though. She’s very close to her children, and there are some things she wants to bring back for the house here.”

“What did her family think about this whirlwind courtship?”

Royce smiled noncommittally. “Well, they didn’t send the troops to bring her back.”

“I guess they didn’t at that.” Rand slapped his employer on the back. “Well, I’ve got to get going, and I know you have better things to do than hang around talking to me!”

“Is there a young lady in the picture tonight?”

“If I say no, my mother will cut my throat. She’s very sensitive about her age. We’re having guests tonight—someone from Texas of all places!”

Royce reached for his hat. “That might be interesting. Goodnight, Rand. Best to the family.”

Victoria had had a letter from Audra that afternoon. “She wants to come for a visit—whether to see me or to break the hearts of every young man in New Orleans, I don’t know!”

“It’s been three months, Victoria. She’s missed you. By all means, write her to come ahead. I know how close you are.”

Victoria settled down beside him. “Does that mean that the honeymoon is over?”

He drew her head to his shoulder and kissed it. “Never. It will never be over. Everyday is a new beginning for me, Victoria, and every night. . .” He chuckled. “Ah, Victoria, what you have done to me!” His lips traveled to her throat.

“Dinner before dessert,” she said, slipping neatly out of his grasp.

Audra arrived two weeks later and promptly fell in love with New Orleans in the short trip from the station to the house. They took her to dinner at a French restaurant that evening and laughed as she tried to interpret the menu. “We don’t eat out much,” Victoria said, “but Royce has to order for me. He speaks fluent French, you know.”

Audra’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know! Oh, my, that will certainly make things more interesting!”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Victoria said.

“Oh, Mother, you knew there would be all kinds of talk when you left and didn’t come back. Most of it is harmless, and some is downright preposterous!”

Victoria’s eyebrows rose expressively. “Oh?”

Audra’s dimples deepened. “Well, Mr. Wardell has taken on all kinds of identities. She held up her hand and began to count on her fingers. “Let’s see, he was a double agent during the war and came to Stockton looking for the woman who betrayed him. He’s the last survivor of a wealthy Southern plantation owner in Georgia and went to Texas to seek his fortune when the Yankees destroyed his home. He’s. . .”

“This is getting better and better,” Royce laughed. “Go on, my dear. Do I get to choose my favorite at the end?”

Victoria shook her head. “Order dinner first, please, Royce. Knowing my daughter, she won’t miss a single detail, and her recital could be quite lengthy.”

Audra did go on as they waited for the meal to be served. “My personal favorite is that you were the pirate Jean Lafitte’s right-hand man and decided to settle in New Orleans and become respectable!”

Royce threw back his head and laughed so loudly that other diners looked at him curiously. “I think that’s it! I’ve always had a yen for the sea!”

“If you were with Lafitte, then you’re much older than you told me,” Victoria said. “Almost a hundred, wouldn’t you say?”

Royce took her hand and gazed soulfully into her eyes. “Alas, Victoria, you have found me out.”

At home Royce said he was going to smoke on the balcony. “Spend some time helping Audra get settled, Victoria. I know she’d like to be alone with you.” He disappeared quietly into their room.

Audra turned as her mother came into the room. “Oh, Mother, he’s wonderful! He’s made you so happy—you look like a girl!”

Victoria sat down on the bed. “I feel like a girl, Audra. Sometimes I don’t recognize myself.”

“Have you heard from Gene?”

“Two letters. He says he hopes we’ll come to the ranch for Christmas because his schedule is too full for a trip here.”

“It’s a long way all right.” She began to set bottles and jars on the dressing table.

“Audra—tell me about Nick.”

“There isn’t much to tell, Mother.”

“He hasn’t written me.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t make a choice between my husband and my children.”

“We don’t feel that way, Mother! I don’t think even Nick feels that way!”

“Then how does he feel? I thought I knew, and I’ve tried to understand, but I don’t.”

“At first we thought he felt you were being disloyal to Father by remarrying, but Jarrod shattered that idea. He asked Nick if he’d approve your getting married later, and Nick said he didn’t know. Then he said something. . .”

“What?”

“I think he—I think it bothers him that—he seems to feel. . .” Audra’s face flamed. “Well, I don’t think he sees you as anything except his mother.”

Victoria closed her eyes. “I think I understand.”

“He says I’m an incurable romantic and that I can’t possibly understand everything that marriage means.”

“And he can?”

“You know Nick—he thinks he knows everything!” Audra giggled.

“I loved your father, Audra. I was married to him for thirty years, and when he was killed, I thought I’d die, too, missing him. It never occurred to me that I’d fall in love again.”

“I’m glad you did, Mother. I like Mr. Wardell very much. He’s such a gentleman—and he obviously adores you!”

“We’re very content.” Victoria rose. “It’s late, and we’ll have all morning to talk after Royce leaves for the office.”

Audra put up her face for her mother’s kiss. “Goodnight, Mother.”

“Goodnight, darling. Sleep well.”

Royce was just coming in from the balcony as Victoria opened the door. “Is Audra all settled in?”

“It will take her awhile. Did you see how much luggage she had?”

“I suppose young ladies can’t do on a single valise.”

“Audra practically moves in anywhere she goes.” She turned around for Royce to help her with the buttons on her dress. “She likes you, Royce.”

“Did she mention Nick?”

“Oh, yes. She seems to have some insight into his problem.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Nick can’t deal with the fact that his mother is more than his mother—that she’s a woman, too.”

“I see. The question never arose, of course, but I wonder if I might have felt the same way about mine.”

“Jarrod, Heath, and Gene don’t seem to have a problem with our marriage.”

“Perhaps it will just take more time, Victoria. He loves you and wants you to be happy, I’m sure. When he sees that you are. . .”

She stepped out of her dress and took it to the armoire. “Audra says I look like a girl.”

He began to take off his clothes. “I was thinking tonight of how you looked as the gaslight in the restaurant fell over your face and lit your eyes. I thought how lovely you are—but you’re not a girl, Victoria. You’re a woman—a beautiful, passionate woman. What you said that first night—about how we’ve had the past—our boyhood and girlhood—is true. I don’t want to go back, and I don’t believe you do either. The present is infinitely satisfying.”

She turned from the armoire. “Infinitely,” she murmured. Then she crossed the room and unfastened his shirt for him.

As Victoria had expected, Audra tired of New Orleans in a few weeks. “After all, you’re a rancher’s daughter,” Royce observed as he helped her strap her trunks for traveling the next day.

“I like to travel,” she said half-apologetically, “but I’m always ready to get back to the ranch.”

“It’s just as well. You’ve charmed half the eligible young men of New Orleans society and broken more than a few hearts—Rand Vandemeer’s at the very least.”

“He’s very nice,” Audra said, “and he’s treated me like a princess.” She sighed. “But he isn’t a—a westerner. We don’t feel the same way about the important things. And anyway, I’m not ready to settle down.”

“How is the building fund for the new orphanage coming along?”

“Slowly, but we’ll get there.”

Royce opened a drawer in his desk. “I want to give you this, Audra. I wanted to make a contribution when I was in Stockton, but I was afraid it would seem too much like I was trying to buy myself into the family’s favor.” He held out a check.

“Royce, it’s for five thousand dollars!”

“My business has had a good year. I want to do it.”

Before he realized it, her arms were around his neck, and she was wetting his starched shirt front with her tears. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“I don’t suppose you remember hard times, Audra. I understand that your father had become very successful by the time you and Gene were born. And though I never went hungry, I grew up with only the bare necessities. I don’t want to forget that—or to shirk from helping where I can.” He patted her awkwardly. “I admire your dedication to the orphans’ cause.”

She left the next morning with their promise to come to the ranch for Christmas. As the train pulled away, she watched them from the window as they stood waving from the platform. Royce’s arm rested protectively on her mother’s shoulders. He looked very large, and her mother had never seemed so small. But never had she thought that they looked so right together as they did now. She sank back in her seat. “You’re wrong, Nick,” she murmured. “You’re so very wrong.”

Chapter 6

When they arrived in Stockton on the fifteenth of December, everyone was there to meet them—everyone but Nick. Victoria tried to hide her disappointment. It had been almost six months now, and she’d hoped that her second son. . .

“Nick went to a cattle sale in Coopersville,” Heath said. “Be back in a few days.”

“Gene is coming home at the end of the week,” Audra added. “He’s so anxious to meet you, Mr. Wardell—Royce.”

Silas was waiting dinner. “It sure is good to see you again, Mrs. Barkley.” He stopped abruptly. “Sorry, m’am.”

“Old habits die hard, Silas” she said, pressing his hand warmly.

After dinner, Jarrod and Heath whipped Royce soundly in two successive games of pool. “I surrender,” he said, sitting down beside his wife. “Did your father teach you, Jarrod, or was that a sideline in law school?”

The brothers exchanged glances. Royce Wardell spoke easily of their father, almost as if he’d known him. There had been some discussion about how to handle—or avoid—any mention of Tom Barkley. Audra had even wondered if they should take down the portrait of their father that hung in the library. Nick, overhearing her, had exploded. “It’s his house! He built it, and the picture stays! You’ll take it down over my dead body!” So it had remained, and they’d opted for the billiard room on this first evening.

“I think Father brought home the table when I was about twelve,” Jarrod said carefully.

“Actually, it was the summer before you turned twelve,” Victoria said. “We were living in a house down the hill from here, Royce—larger than the dugout but certainly not large enough for a billiard table!”

“I think I remember you telling Father that he had to put it in the barn,” Jarrod said.

“I think I did, too, but it ended up in the dining room instead. We didn’t have any dining room furniture, but it was the principle of the thing!”

Royce laughed. “What about you, Heath? That’s a wicked hook you’ve got!”

Heath grinned. “I used to hang around the pool hall in Strawberry some. ‘Course, if Mamma caught me, she tanned me good, so I had to be careful. Pappy here taught me most of what I know.”

Audra managed to get her mother into the hall while the men talked. “I didn’t know what to do about your room, Mother, so I put you and Royce in mine. I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable.”

“I hadn’t thought of it, Audra, but you did exactly right! Thank you, darling.”

She didn’t mention the change to Royce until they’d gone upstairs. Their luggage was lined up neatly against the wall, and all of Audra’s frilly accessories were gone. “Whose room is next door?” he asked.

“Nick’s.”

He shook his head. “I think it’s going to be a long month.”

When Nick didn’t come home the next day—or the day after that—Heath said he was going to ride up to Coopersville to see what was going on. Victoria could have told him what was going on, but she held her tongue.

Gene’s arrival that afternoon lightened her mood. “You did well for yourself, Mother,” he teased her at dinner. “I approve!”

Afterwards, he and Audra brought the decorations down from the attic and unwrapped them in the library. Each one had its own story, and Royce listened with real interest as they generously shared their memories. Christmas had been just another day when he was growing up. There hadn’t been any money for a celebration. If he got a new shirt to replace one that was almost ragged, he’d been grateful.

Later, Catherine had made the season special for him at whatever isolated outpost they called home. He thought for the first time in years of their few ornaments, mostly homemade, and wondered where they were.

“Royce?” Victoria touched his arm. “You’re far away.”

He smiled. “I suppose I was communing with the Spirit of Christmas Past, my love.”

“How did you spend Christmas when you were a boy?” Gene asked.

“I didn’t, Gene. My mother did well to feed us.” He reached for Victoria’s hand, turned it over, and dropped a kiss in the palm. “Catherine—my first wife—and I always did something special though. To tell the truth, I was thinking about our decorations and wondering where they were.”

“Don’t you suppose she took them with her when you sent her back to New York at the beginning of the war?” Victoria asked.

“I think probably she did, but when I went back afterwards—well, her brothers returned a few personal items to me when I insisted, but they considered me a traitor, you know—and they blamed me for her death. It was best not to ask for more.”

Jarrod had told his sister and brothers the story—or as much of it as he knew. Now Audra’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s not fair! They belong to you!”

“I have my memories just as you have yours. And what can’t be changed is best let go.”

“Well said!” Jarrod rose. “Cigar, Royce?”

“I believe I will.”

“Gene?”

“Haven’t got the habit yet, Pappy.”

“Which is just as well,” Victoria said briskly. “Now all we need is the tree.”

“We’ll go as soon as Heath and Nick get back,” Jarrod said. “Would you like to go with us, Royce?” It’s uphill all the way.”

“I might manage the trip,” Royce replied. “And I was pretty handy with an ax at one time.”

Gene and Audra stayed downstairs to organize the ornaments waiting to go on the tree. “What’s going on with Nick?” Gene asked his sister.

“He’s just being Nick. He’s making his point, I suppose.”

“What’s his point? He doesn’t like Royce?

“He doesn’t know him—and doesn’t want to. It’s embarrassing, Gene—especially for Mother.”

“I’ve never known Nick to show disrespect for her before.”

“He’s so angry, Gene.”

“At who? Royce? For marrying Mother?”

“No—at Mother.”

“Why, for pity’s sake? A woman has a right to remarry. . .”

“That’s just it, Gene. Nick sees Mother as Mother and not. . .”

“Oh, yes, I begin to see! Mother’s just Mother, not a flesh and blood woman! Well, where does he think we all came from—Silas’s garden?”

Audra blushed, then laughed. “Gene, you’re wicked.”

“You’ll get over it—and so will Nick if he’s got half the sense I know he has. I need a drink.”

“You don’t smoke, but you’ve taken up drinking?”

“Good grief, Audra, I’ve had a glass of sherry every evening since I was fifteen! You want one?”

“I suppose so.” He poured two glasses half full from the decanter on the sideboard and brought her one. “To Mother and Royce,” he said, raising his glass slightly.

Audra touched his glass with hers. “And to the family.”

Chapter 7

Heath and Nick rode in the next day. Heath was noncommittal, Nick surly. He barely spoke to his mother and didn’t acknowledge Royce at all. Victoria seethed but kept her temper in check. She knew it matched Nick’s and that a full-scale battle was only a word away.

Despite Nick’s attitude, Royce rode with the men to bring back the Christmas tree. He noticed that Gene stayed close to him—whether for his company or because the others doubted his ability to keep up, he couldn’t guess. But his years in the cavalry stood him in good stead, and he guided his horse skillfully up the narrow trail to the grove that had provided the Barkley family Christmas tree for over twenty-five years.

He noticed the seedlings and young trees among the mature ones and commented appreciatively. “Father always believed in taking care of the land,” Gene replied.

“A wise principle,” Royce said. “I saw too much of the slash-and-burn tactics of the people I was charged with protecting as they moved west. No wonder the Indians viewed us with such suspicion and fear. They knew how to protect nature’s bounty while we only knew how to destroy it.”

Gene nodded. “I’m going to study law like Jarrod, but I’ve always been interested in conservation. Washington is beginning to realize that there won’t be much left in this country if we don’t make some changes.”

“I’d think the law would give you an excellent opportunity to work for such change.”

“I’ve been thinking that, too. Say, Royce, how come you know so much about things?”

“Things?”

“I don’t know— about life, maybe.”

Royce chuckled. “Living, Gene. It’s the best education you’ll ever get.”

“Father used to say something like that.” The admiration in Gene’s eyes for the older man was obvious.

After agreeing on a tree and taking turns with the ax—Royce took a few swings, too—they tied the branches together and attached the tree to the travois behind the packhorse. Jarrod pulled out a flask. “I think we’ve earned this,” he said, passing it to Royce first.

Royce tasted the brandy and pronounced it superb. The flask went around twice before it was empty. Then they mounted up and started back. This time Heath rode with Royce. “You haven’t forgotten how to ride,” he commented.

“I’ve sat on enough horses in my lifetime to supply army.”

“Ever had a favorite?”

“A few. I don’t keep one in New Orleans, of course.”

“Mother seems pretty content there.”

“I thought she’d miss the ranch more, but Audra’s visit helped, and after that, she knew it wasn’t long until Christmas.”

“Mother’s worked long and hard in her time. I can see her enjoying her ease.”

“We’ve looked at a few places outside the city, but she’s busy fixing up the house the way she likes it. Looks like a different place since she came.”

“Flowers?”

“Always.”

“Yeah, she kept them in every room downstairs when she could get them. Silas says that someday somebody’s gonna invent flowers that don’t die. He’s the one who always ended up emptying the vases.” Heath chuckled.

“Think he’s a mite happier with Audra who’s never arranged a flower in her life and doesn’t intend to learn how!”

They left the tree on the front veranda. “Go on and get it inside,” Nick barked. “I’ll take care of the horses.”

Royce hesitated, then decided to follow Nick to the barn. Maybe there would be an opportunity to mention to Nick that his mother was on the verge of a small explosion—or maybe a large one.

“Ciego! Ciego, where the devil. . .”

The man came around the corner. “Working, Boss.”

“Okay, okay,” Nick growled. “I can take care of the horses myself!”

Ciego grinned. “Sure you can, Senor Nick.” Whistling, he went back to his interrupted chores.

Nick pretended to ignore Royce as the man deftly unstrapped the cinches from around his own horse and slung the heavy saddle easily over the edge of the stall. A flicker of grudging admiration showed momentarily in Nick’s eyes before being replaced by resentment. “I can do that,” he mumbled.

“Two of us can do it in half the time,” Royce said cheerfully.

Nick didn’t reply, but he watched everything the man did, hoping to find something to criticize. It galled him that he couldn’t.

“Buy any cattle at Coopersville?” Royce tried.

“No.”

“Not really the time of year, I guess, unless you’re just looking for a good bull.”

“We already got the best one in the state. Don’t use that brush on that horse!”

Royce paused with the brush in the air. “Sorry. This is the one I saw in his stall.”

Nick peered closer. “Oh. Well, it’s all right then.”

“It’s good to be particular about your animals.

“Yeah.”

“I’m an old cavalryman myself. I found out early that if I took care of my horse, he’d take care of me.”

Nick whirled. “Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda stayed in the cavalry instead of turning traitor and. . .”

“It was a question of loyalty to my home and family,” Royce said quietly. “I know you understand that.”

“Seems to me some around here have forgotten it!” Nick snarled.

“Nick, I. . .”

Without warning, Nick’s fist came up and connected hard with Royce’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the next stall. At the same time, Victoria appeared in the barn. “Royce! Nick! Dinner!” Then she saw her husband.

“Royce, what. . .”

He sat up and rubbed his face. “I’m all right, Victoria.”

Nick’s muscular arms dangled at his sides, his fists clinching and unclinching nervously.

“Royce. . .Nick, did you. . .” She knelt hastily beside her husband.

“Now, Victoria, you know a man’s discussion can sometimes be punctuated with a fist. No harm done.” He got to his feet and lifted her up with him. “That son of yours sure packs a wallop!” He felt gingerly along his jaw, hoping it wasn’t cracked.

Victoria turned on her son. “My god, Nick, what were you thinking of?”

Nick knew that to admit he hadn’t really been thinking at all wouldn’t satisfy his mother, and he realized, suddenly and with honest remorse that the attack had been vicious and unprovoked. “Mother, I. . .” The fury in her expression made him blanch.

“You listen to me, Nicholas Barkley! I worked with your father to build up this place—sweated in summer and froze in the winter! I had Jarrod on the dirt floor of a dugout with no doctor and only a neighbor woman to help, and I carried him tied to my back when I went out to help round up cattle a month later! I’ve branded cows and broken horses, plowed and planted, borne five children and buried one. I was married to your father for nearly thirty years, and I loved him! I was faithful to him! I forgave him when he was unfaithful to me, and we went on. But he’s dead, Nick! Dead and buried! Not many women get a second chance like I did! They marry to survive, but I didn’t have to do that! I was fortunate enough to be able to marry for love—and you’d better understand that I love my husband! If we have ten years or twenty, then I’ll consider myself lucky—and no one—no one, do you hear—not even the son that I love—is going to stand against me! I’m sorry you can’t accept it! I’m sorry you’ve chosen to separate yourself from your family because of it! I’m sorry for you—Royce has something to offer all of us, not just me—and you’ve rejected it! And most of all I’m sorry for you because your father would be ashamed of you!”

She turned to Royce who had been watching in shocked silence. He’d known there was fire under the softness, but he hadn’t known how hot it was. “Silas is waiting dinner,” she said in a voice that shook noticeably. But I want to have a look at your face first.” She took his arm, and they left the barn.

Nick tried to slink past Silas in the kitchen, but it was no use. “Mr. Nick, you had no call to do that. No reason a’tall.. Your daddy taught you better.”

Audra, who had seen Royce’s face as he and her mother went upstairs, met Nick in the hall. “Oh, Nick, how could you?” The fact that he looked ashamed of himself didn’t mitigate her disappointment in him.

Dinner was a strained, silent affair, though Royce—whose face on one side was quickly darkening from chin to hairline—tried to keep the conversation going. Jarrod and Gene were quietly furious, and Heath seemed resigned. Victoria was still seething.

No one mentioned decorating the tree after dinner. Royce and Victoria went up early. Silas had brought a warm salt pack for Royce’s face, and he sank gratefully into bed with it pressed against his face. Weary from the day’s excursion—and thankful that, though his first instinct had been to defend himself, he’d realized that he was no match for Nick—he drifted off to sleep with Victoria stroking his shoulder and murmuring how sorry she was.

He woke in the night and reached for her, but she wasn’t there. “Victoria?”

She turned from the window. “What is it, Royce? Do you need something?”

“Just you.”

She didn’t move. “I think you should see Dr. Merar tomorrow.”

He laughed and wished he hadn’t when pain sliced through his face. “What for? It’s not the first time I’ve taken a punch.”

“To make me feel better if nothing else.”

“Then for you, anything.” There was a long silence. “Don’t be too angry with Nick. He knows he shouldn’t have done it. He even knows he’s wrong about how he feels.”

“You’re sure of that, are you?”

“He looked like a whipped puppy at supper tonight.”

“Time was when I’d have snatched up the nearest strap and worn him out for less.”

“It’s Christmas, Victoria. Peace on earth—good will—and all that.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much good will in this house.”

“The others have been more than welcoming, and Nick will come around.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be defended—and by you, of all people.”

“In a way, I took something from him. Something very basic to human nature—the secure unchangeableness of his life—and his mother.”

“He’s a grown man!”

“We all need security, Victoria—a home, a mother, a wife—whatever makes us feel secure.” He threw back the covers. “Come back to bed, my love. It’s cold.”

She slid in beside him. “What I said this afternoon was true—I’m a lucky woman.”

He turned over and buried his aching face in the pillow beside her head. “Go to sleep,” he murmured.

In his room, Nick paced the floor restlessly. He’d always had a temper, but that was no excuse. The man had done nothing to deserve being hit. Royce Wardell had been more than polite in the face of rudeness. He’d recognized that Tom Barkley still lived in the hearts of his children and hadn’t even approached trying to be more than guest in the house. Silas was right—Father had taught him better.

He thought of the two of them sharing the next room—sharing the same bed. Jarrod had gone to the heart of the matter—that was the problem. It had seemed natural for his father to touch her, to caress her teasingly in front of them, to announce that he was going to bed early and take her hand and lead her up the stairs. As they grew older, all of them had known not to disturb their parents when the heavy bedroom door closed behind them. Maybe they hadn’t really considered anything more than that their parents wanted time together alone, but as an adult, he knew. What was it that made him so angry at the thought of his mother and Royce?

The pocket watch he’d tossed on the bureau said two o’clock in the morning, but he needed to talk. So who would it be? Not Audra and her teary reproaches. Certainly not Gene with his cocky college attitude. So that left Jarrod or Heath. Which one would be less likely to kill him if he woke them up? He thought for a moment, then went across the hall to Heath’s room and didn’t bother to knock.

Heath was dead asleep. He mumbled incoherently and pulled the pillow around his ears, then put it over his face. Finally he opened one eye. “What?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter—I need to talk to you.”

Heath rolled over. “Talk.”

“You gonna listen?”

“Uh-huh, I guess.”

“I shouldn’t have hit him this afternoon.”

“Uh-uh.”

“I haven’t seen Mother so mad since—since you and I got drunk and broke that vase fighting in the billiard room last summer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What am I going to do, Heath?”

“Say you’re sorry, I guess.”

“That’s all?”

“Unless you aren’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

Heath was waking up now. “He’s a nice guy, Nick. He makes Mother happy.”

“I know, I know.”

“He can make her all kinds of happy as long as he doesn’t touch her, is that it?”

“I guess.”

“That’s dumb, and you know it.”

“Okay, it’s dumb, I know. I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“You don’t have to agree with me!”

Heath shook his head. “I don’t have to do anything except go back to sleep. It’s you got the mess to clean up.”

“How?”

“You’ll think of something. Go away, Nick.”

“Yeah. Yeah—thanks, Heath.”

“Sure, anytime.”

Nick went back to his room and lay down across the bed. Heath was right—it was his mess—but damned if he knew how to clean it up!

Chapter 8

Royce Wardell surveyed his face in the mirror as he attempted to shave. It was swollen and tender, though the salt pack had taken away the worst of the pain. “I’ll just tell everyone that my wife didn’t like something I said.”

Victoria came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. “It’s not funny,” she said, laying her face against his bare back.

“I guess it’s not, but it’s done, so there’s no use dwelling on it.”

“I think we should leave as soon as Christmas is over.”

“We said we’d stay until the second week in January. Why send your poor old husband back to the salt mines sooner than necessary?” He wiped the shaving soap off carefully and turned around. “Have I told you good morning yet? He bent to kiss her and yelped. “The deuce! That hurts!”

“Oh, Royce!” She touched his face gently. “We’re going to see Dr. Merar right after breakfast!”

“Only because I told you last night I’d go. What’s he going to do except tell me it’ll get better?”

“I don’t know, but. . .”

At the knock on the door, Royce retreated behind the dressing screen. It was Audra. “Silas wants to know if Royce would like oatmeal for breakfast this morning.”

“I don’t think I’m up to steak,” he called from the private corner. “Good morning, Audra. Please tell Silas that I’m grateful for his consideration and accept the oatmeal with pleasure. Well, not really with pleasure, but. . .” He finished buttoning his shirt and stepped out.

Audra caught sight of his face. “Oh, Royce, you look awful!”

“Just what I need to hear to start my day off right,” he joked.

She giggled. “Sorry, but it’s true. I could murder Nick!”

“Wait until after Christmas, my dear. The jolly old elf who brings gifts frowns on little girls who commit murder.”

She giggled again. “Didn’t Mother tell you that we don’t exchange gifts in the family anymore?”

“Yes, she explained about the orphanage. I think that’s very appropriate.”

She frowned again at his bruised face. “Well, I’ll tell Silas to dish you up a bowl of oatmeal and put plenty of butter and cream on it.”

“And lots of sugar!” Royce called after her. “She’s a real sweet young lady, Victoria.”

“Sometimes I think I should have just given away the rest of them and kept her.”

He buckled his belt. “Now, now.” He offered her his arm as they descended the stairs.

Nick was waiting for them at the door of the library. “Uh—Mr. Wardell—uh—got a minute?” He winced inwardly at the sight of the damage he’d inflicted on the man.

Royce didn’t look at his wife. “Of course, Nick.”

“Nick. . .” Victoria began.

Royce squeezed her arm reassuringly. “I’ll join you in a moment, my love.” He followed Nick into the library.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Nick said. “Really sorry. I don’t know what—what got into me.”

“I thank you, Nick, and accept your apology. Perhaps we just got off on the wrong foot.”

“No.” Nick was squirming like a schoolboy now. “No, it was me—I just couldn’t—didn’t want to accept—well. . .”

“That your mother was sharing the same relationship she had with your father with another man.”

Nick looked away.

“Nick, I didn’t know your father, but I know he raised fine sons—and a lovely daughter. Not having had any of my own, I envy him. And I’m grateful to him, too.”

Nick’s head jerked up sharply. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean that he must have been an outstanding husband as well as a good father. Women who have had bad marriages—and have a choice about another—often don’t want it. Your parents were happy, so your mother had no doubts that she could be happy again.”

Nick nodded. “And I guess your. . .”

“Catherine was my first love,” Royce said softly. “I was twenty. We didn’t have as long as your parents, but it was good. So when I met your mother, I knew things could be good again—and they are. I love her very much, Nick. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. And remember that she’s still your mother. Nothing’s changed.”

“Yeah—yeah, I guess I know that. I do know that.”

Royce nodded with satisfaction. “Now perhaps we’d better go to breakfast and be charming. Your mother is reminding me a great deal of old Scrooge this morning—and it’s Christmas, after all.”

Nick grinned without meaning to. “Yeah, she can get like that sometimes.”

Royce put out his hand. “Nick.”

Nick shook it. “Royce.”

They were finishing breakfast when Audra announced that she’d put the word out in town for people to come by that evening to see Victoria and meet Royce. Victoria threw up her hands. “I take that back—I should have given you away, too!”

Audra frowned. “What do you mean?”

Victoria shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I told Silas I’d help with the refreshments and that I knew the boys would be glad to clean up.”

“Now wait a minute…” Nick began.

“Especially Nick,” Audra said sweetly.

He flushed. “Sure. Okay. Sure, I’ll clean up.”

Later Royce persuaded Victoria that a trip to town to see Dr. Merar was useless, and she gave in gracefully. Since breakfast had been late, they had a late lunch also and skipped dinner in order to take full advantage of the coming delicacies signaled by pleasant scents drifting from the kitchen.

In the late afternoon they gathered in the main room to decorate the tree. Later Royce helped Victoria unpack the silver punch bowl and cups and set them out on the dining room table. “These belonged to my aunt—the one I lived with in the East when I was attending school,” she told him. “She sent them to me when Gene was born.”

“Why did she wait so long?”

“Well, she said she assumed by now that I was here to stay!”

“I see her point.” He looked around for any prying eyes before he drew her under the mistletoe hanging in the door and kissed her.

“I wish I looked better,” he said as they dressed to receive guests.

“The point is, how do you feel?”

He laughed. “I looked and felt much worse when I made the mistake of leaning down to pick up a canteen behind the stubbornest army mule west of the Mississippi.”

The long line of friends and acquaintances began arriving just after five and continued to stream in until past ten o’clock. Most greeted Victoria effusively and looked at Royce curiously, but his affable manner charmed them all. He tossed off his appearance by saying that he’d had an accident in the barn while unsaddling his horse the day before. If Nick heard him, he gave no sign.

It was midnight before the house was quiet. “Nick apologized to me,” Victoria said as she got into bed.

“He apologized to me also. We shook hands.”

“I’m still angry with him for hitting you.”

“Let it go, Victoria. The important thing is that he’s becoming reconciled to our marriage.” He reached for her. “How thick are the walls here?”

“What?”

“You said Nick was next door.” He untied the neck of her nightdress.

“They’re thick enough,” she murmured.

He laughed softly. “I hope so,” he said as he began to work the gown upward.

Chapter 9

Audra and a bevy of girls who volunteered with her at the orphanage spent the morning of the twenty-fourth wrapping gifts for the children. Royce listened to their excited chatter through the open door of the library as he read the newspapers that Heath had brought from town earlier. Audra had a kind, generous spirit, and there was a core of steel in her—not yet quite refined but edging in that direction—that would rival her mother’s strength.

Then he thought, unwillingly and for the first time in years, of that tiny baby girl for whom he’d built a crude wooden coffin as snow drifted silently from a somber winter sky. He’d placed her in it himself and carried it to the post cemetery. Catherine had kept up the grave until they were transferred. He wondered if anyone kept it up now. Likely the wooden cross had long-since rotted. He wasn’t even sure he’d know where the grave was if he returned now, but why would he go back anyway? As he’d said, what one couldn’t change was best let go.

At four o’clock, Heath and Gene loaded a mountain of packages into the wagon, and Nick brought the buggy around. “You want to ride?” he asked Royce politely.

“I’ll go in the buggy with your mother and Audra. No need to saddle another horse.” He noticed that Jarrod, Nick, and Heath had their guns strapped under their coats. “Are those necessary?”

“Probably not, but it’s Christmas Eve. There’s always a crowd out doing a little too much celebrating. You want me to get you. . .”

Royce held up his hand. “The last time I unstrapped my gunbelt, I swore I’d never put one on again, and I never have.”

“When the war was over?” Nick asked off-handedly as he checked his cartridges.

“No, afterwards,” Royce answered. Nick looked at him oddly but didn’t ask any more questions.

“We’re going to break ground for the new orphanage in the spring,” Audra told him as they drove. “Someone matched your generous contribution, and now we have enough to build.”

“I’m glad it’s going to become a reality.”

“You’ll really be glad when you see what we have now. The men in the valley try to keep it in repair, but it’s in bad shape.”

She was right. The three-story wooden house with the peeling paint stood out stark and grim against the darkening December sky. But lamplight shone cheerfully from the windows, and there was a wreath on the door that Pastor Gordon threw open. “Welcome! Welcome! Merry Christmas, Victoria! Merry Christmas, all!”

The men took off their guns and hung them on hooks high on the wall. Then they began bringing in the gifts.

“We had an early gift this afternoon,” Pastor Gordon said, helping the ladies off with their wraps. “A brand-new baby girl!”

“Where did she come from?” Victoria asked.

“One of Dan Houghten’s hands was out looking for a stray when he thought he heard a baby crying in the line shack he passed. He went in and found the baby.” He lowered his voice. “Unfortunately, the mother was dead—had been for awhile from all appearances. He took the baby straight to town to Dr. Merar, and then he went back for the mother. She’ll be buried decently, of course.”

“Was she from around here?” Audra asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“Is the baby all right?” Victoria took off her gloves and put them in her pocket.

“Oh, yes. Dr. Merar said she was in good shape considering everything. She was plenty hungry, but she’s been catching up all afternoon. Amalia is tending to her now. Would you like to go back for a look?”

Royce didn’t realize that his “Yes” was the first one heard, but Victoria and Audra noticed.

In a back room, Amalia Gordon sat in a rocking chair near the fire. “You heard about our Christmas present, did you?”

“I hate to think what would have happened if the man hadn’t happened by.” Victoria pulled the faded pink blanket back from the baby’s face. “She’s beautiful.”

Royce looked over her shoulder. “She’s beautiful,” he echoed.

“Fred Madden said he’d have Bert from the newspaper make a sketch of the mother before she was buried. He’ll circulate it and try to find out who she was, but I doubt he’ll have any luck.” Amalia shook her head. “Poor girl.”

Royce was staring at the baby in complete fascination. “How old. . .”

“Three days give or take.”

“She’s very. . .small.”

“Babies are,” Victoria said with a smile and then regretted her words. He knew how small babies were—how fragile—how often transient.

“Would you like to hold her, Audra?” Amalia asked. “I need to go supervise the younger children and make sure they get all their clothes on in the right order before they come downstairs.” She laughed. “Mary insists on wearing her petticoat over her dress. She says it’s prettier than the dress!”

Audra held the baby for a few minutes before passing her into Victoria’s arms. Royce couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the tiny pink bundle. “Royce, would you like to hold her?” Victoria held the baby out to him, but he stepped back.

“Oh, no—no thank you, Victoria. I don’t know anything about babies.”

“You don’t have to know anything about them to hold them,” Audra laughed “Sit down if you’d feel more comfortable.”

Royce moved slowly toward the chair and sat down. Victoria placed the baby in his arms and signaled to Audra with her eyes. Both of them left the room.

“Mother, maybe we shouldn’t leave him alone with her for too long.”

“Give him a few minutes, Audra. He’s never held a baby before—not a live one anyway.”

Audra bit her lip. “It doesn’t seem fair, Mother.”

“It isn’t fair, darling, but it’s life, the only one we have. Why don’t you go help Mrs. Gordon? I’ll stay here with Royce and the baby.”

She kept watch through the partially-open door. Royce sat absolutely still, his eyes riveted on the sleeping child. A slight stirring of the blanket told her that the baby was awake, and she started in, then stopped. “You have blue eyes,” she heard Royce murmur. “And such pink cheeks.” A small arm appeared and watched the tiny fingers wrap themselves around the finger that Royce extended. She smiled, remembering the thrill of having her finger held captive in a baby’s surprisingly strong grasp.

Only the sound of the children coming downstairs to gather in the dining room for games and gifts and refreshments spurred her to enter the room. “It’s time for the party to begin.”

He looked up, startled. “She’s so small,” he said again. “But she’s perfect.”

He stroked the baby’s cheek with his finger. “Our baby wasn’t,” he said almost to himself. “The doctor said she’d never be right. He didn’t even want Catherine to see her—gave her something to make her sleep and told me to bury the baby right away.”

Victoria put her hand on his shoulder. “What was wrong with her?”

“Her mouth—her nose—split open. I’ve seen a few other people like that.”

“So have I.”

“She must have had other things wrong, too—things I couldn’t see. She never drew a breath.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He closed his eyes. “And here is this baby—perfect—with no one to love her.”

“Fred will try to find the girl’s family. If not, it’s very likely someone will take her. Babies are very appealing to people.”

“Like a puppy or kitten,” Royce said, an odd note of bitterness in his usually gentle voice. “She’ll be an extra pair of hands on a farm or ranch someday.”

Victoria knew he was right. Most families that adopted children did so for the sake of adding help on a place. Most often they were good to them and even loved them in a way, but these children would never have what her children had been given—total devotion and every opportunity to follow their dreams.

Throughout the evening, Victoria saw Royce stealing glances at the baby who was sleeping in a basket beside the stove. He would have been a good father, she reflected. He had so much love to give. She was in a better position than anyone to know that.

Everyone pronounced the party a success in every way, and the drive home was punctuated by singing and laughter. Though it was only nine o’clock when they arrived, everyone drifted off to their rooms, and within an hour, a peaceful stillness had descended over the house.

The next morning, Audra and Victoria helped Silas with the Christmas dinner which was served mid-afternoon. In the evening, Jarrod and Heath played checkers while Nick and Gene played pool and argued about a variety of subjects. Audra, with Victoria’s help, began work on a dress for the new baby. Only Royce was oddly silent and removed from the group.

He excused himself early and went upstairs. Victoria found him staring vacantly into the fire. “You’re thinking about that baby, aren’t you?”

“What? Oh, no—no, of course not!”

“Yes, you are. You want her.”

“At my age?”

“Yes.”

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was.”

“Perhaps the sheriff will find her family.” Royce leaned forward a little. “I hope so.”

“I very much doubt it. Girls don’t have their babies in deserted line shacks if they have family who would take them in.”

“Or accept a child of questionable parentage.”

“Exactly. I expect the mother was from somewhere around here—a saloon girl who got too friendly with one of the customers. It happens more often than we know.”

“That’s not the baby’s fault.”

“Of course not.”

He held out his arms, and she went to sit with him. “You’d have been a good father, Royce.”

“I would have tried,” he said. “I would have tried very hard.”

For the rest of the week, Audra and Gene stayed busy attending a round of parties. Most days Royce rode out with Nick and Heath. One morning he deliberately separated himself from them and went in the direction of the orphanage.

Amalia Gordon was doing laundry with the other girls. “Work doesn’t stop for the holiday season,” she said, pushing her damp hair off her face. “What brings you here, Mr. Wardell?”

“I was out riding,” he said.

“Just passing by?” Amalia hoped he couldn’t read her mind. She’d seen him paying attention to the baby on Christmas Eve and found it touching—if a little curious.

“That’s right.” He turned his hat in his hands. “How’s—how’s the new baby?”

“I believe she’s gaining. She certainly eats like a little piglet.”

“Does she now?”

“She’s a good baby—never cries as long as we keep her tummy full.”

“I see.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Yes.”

“Yes, well. . .” He turned to go.

“Would you like to see her, Mr. Wardell?”

“I don’t want to interfere.”

“Not at all. Lizzy, would you mind bringing the baby to the parlor? And be sure she’s dry.”

Royce rode home slowly, the baby’s face in front of his. She was so small, so helpless. What chance did she—a foundling of dubious origins—have in the world? Victoria was right—he wanted her—wanted her badly, but it was out of the question, of course. He was past middle age. So was Victoria, and besides, she’d raised her family. It was unthinkable to ask her to take on another child—an infant—at this stage of her life.

Victoria was waiting for him at the barn. “Heath and Nick said you got lost.”

“Did they?” He swung down expertly and put his arms around his wife.

“You went to the orphanage.” It wasn’t a question.

“I rode that direction.”

Victoria put her hands on his face and drew it down to hers. “There is so much love between us,” she said softly.

“Yes.”

“Enough to share.”

He stared at her. “It’s not a decision to be made lightly, you know.”

“But it has to be made—one way or the other. It’s not going to go away.”

“Victoria. . .”

“Shall we go upstairs and talk, Royce?”

He took her hand, and they started for the house.

Chapter 10

Victoria Wardell glanced back at the full five rows that it took to seat the entire Barkley family in the college auditorium, then touched her husband’s arm. “Wake up, Royce. It’s almost time.”

“I wasn’t asleep, Victoria. I was just resting my eyes.”

She smiled at him. “Of course, you were.”

“I was thinking about the letter.”

“It was so like her. I’ll treasure it always.” Victoria reached into her bag and touched the neatly-written pages she’d tucked there, loathe to be separated from them even for an afternoon. Already she’d devoured the words so many times that she knew them by heart.

Nashville, Tennessee

May 10, 1900

My dearest Mother and Papa—

I can’t begin this new, exciting chapter of my life without finishing the old one by telling you how much I love you and how blessed I am to have you for my parents. Tomorrow I graduate from Vanderbilt. Twenty years ago that would have been unthinkable in the circumstances in which you found me, yet here I am.

For the past few days I haven’t been able to get out of my mind the story that you used to tell me, Mother, as I sat safely wrapped in Papa’s arms. You remember it—Hans Christian Andersen’s Legend of the Phoenix. I’d close my eyes tightly and try to imagine the great fire with which it consumed itself—and then, as the story continued, I could actually see that astoundingly beautiful bird emerging from the ashes and soaring high into the heavens.

Remember how you told me that our lives—the three of us—were like the phoenix? How from our individual tragedies had come new life and new opportunity to live beyond our wildest dreams? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want to hear it over and over. When I was very little, I thought that surely Mr. Andersen had written it just for me!

You’ve loved and protected me, and yet you’ve set me free to dream and to fly away into realms even I can’t yet imagine. How can I express my feelings of thanks to you and thankfulness for you? I shall try never to disappoint you or to cause you pain or worry. Yet that promise doesn’t seem enough. I shall love you more each day of my life—and it will have to be a very long lifetime to encompass such great affection.

Whatever I do, wherever I go, it will be because of you, my wonderful Mother and Papa.

With all the love of my heart,

Your daughter

Victoria sat up straighter as the robed chancellor began speaking again. “From the College of Science, awarded a Bachelor’s Degree in biology, summa cum laude, and a letter of acceptance to the Vanderbilt Medical School Class of 1904—Miss Katherine Barkley Wardell.”

Victoria’s palms stung from applauding the lithe, lovely young woman who strode confidently across the wide stage to accept the rolled and beribboned diploma. Beside her, Royce wept unashamedly. Their daughter—born from the ashes of war and death and lonely betrayal. Their daughter, now become the magnificent phoenix poised on the brink of tomorrow, ready to spread her brilliant, beautiful wings and soar free.

THE END

(Continued in "Journey to Yesterday".)