Wages of Sin E-Book

Valerie Hansen

• Herausgeber: NYLA
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 473

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2012

Beschreibung

An extraordinary young woman in an impossible situation, Ruby McCay's faith is put to the ultimate test. Now responsible for her newly orphaned nephew, Ruby must turn her back on the life she once knew and loved…to protect the future of her young nephew. On the run from an evil man who is intent on destroying her and her nephew, Ruby has to stand up to powers beyond her control and flee to one of the most terrifying places for a single woman…the Wild American West of the 1800's! A journey of courage requires determination, honor, love and, most importantly, faith. But no matter how dark the future seems or how lost Ruby feels, she never loses her faith in God. And in searching for safety for her innocent nephew, Ruby finds much more than she could have ever anticipated…peace, love and the home that's she's always desired…

Leseprobe

Wages of Sin

Valerie Hansen

This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Wages of Sin

Copyright © 2000 by Valerie Hansen

ISBN: 9781617509049

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

NYLA Publishing

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http://www.nyliterary.com

Contents

Author Disclaimer

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Also by Valerie Hansen

About the Author

Author Disclaimer

If you're a regular reader of my work for Love Inspired, you will find that Wages of Sin is much more gritty in tone and language than what you're used to seeing from Valerie Hansen. I had a strong reason for writing the story this way: I wanted to show that just because a person may be able to quote scripture like an orator, that does not mean that he is holy – or even a true believer. In my view, one of the most heinous crimes possible is using the Bible for anything but good. Yet it happens. And, as in this story, "the wages of sin is death". (Sometimes it just takes longer than we think it should.)

Don't worry, readers; remember, the rougher the road, the sweeter the arrival!

Prologue

Kansas - 1878

Ruby McKay cast a furtive glance at the icy, rutted road in front of her brother-in-law's empty, gray frame house. Remnants of the blizzard lingered in the afternoon sky. Sparse slivers of light illuminated the barren fields and what was left of the neglected fruit orchard.

She couldn't help trembling as she climbed back into her spring wagon and wrapped her skirts and cloak tightly about her legs. What she'd just done had been wrong, but she'd had to do it. For the sake of Emma and the baby.

Heart pounding, she kicked the strongbox further beneath the wagon seat so she wouldn't have to look at the evidence of her transgression. If pious Judge Caleb Stone ever learned she was the one who'd stolen the proof of Emma's infidelity, his self-righteous wrath would indeed rain down on her...on them all.

"I'm not a thief," Ruby insisted. "Please, God, I'm not a thief. Not really." Surely an omniscient Providence would see that she couldn't leave her sister's revealing diary in Caleb's hands. It was bad enough that he now suspected Emma’s three-week-old baby was not his. Allowing the damning confirmation of that fact to remain in his possession was unthinkable.

With a shudder, Ruby unwound the driving lines from the wagon brake and spoke reassuringly to her restless mules. "Easy Ben. Whoa, Jessie." The sooner she got back home to the McKay farm and saw for herself that her injured sister was all right, the happier she'd be.

She glanced at the cold, stiff leather of the reins in her hands. Where were her warm gloves? Her head snapped around. The house! She'd laid the gloves on Caleb's desk while she'd tried to pry open the small strongbox containing Emma's diary! Failing that, she'd chosen to steal the entire box. Such reprehensible behavior had obviously obliterated any other sane thoughts.

Did she dare delay long enough to go back inside and retrieve the evidence of her presence? Wide-eyed, she stared at the forbidding house. If Caleb came home and caught her in there...

Fate made her decision for her. The solitary figure of retribution had rounded a bend and was fast approaching, his horse at a gallop, the tails of his great, black coat flapping out behind him.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips, her heart in her throat. "Oh, dear Lord! No!"

Caleb reined to a halt in front of her wagon. His horse was blowing clouds of frozen vapor, its flanks lathered in spite of the weather. True to her expectations, her brother-in-law immediately confronted her with a glare more frigid than winter on the Kansas prairie.

"What are you doing here? I told you Emma and I don't need you anymore."

Ruby considered carefully. He might be easier to elude if he didn't know his unhappy wife had finally left him for good. She only hoped the stolen strongbox beneath her feet wasn't visible from his higher vantage point.

"I was just leaving." Ruby eyed the basket slung by its handle from the pommel of his saddle. "Surely, you don't have the baby in there?"

"Of course not." He dismounted slowly, cautiously, lifted down the basket and started toward the house.

"Then where is he?" Ruby demanded. "Emma said you took him with you."

"So, I did." She couldn't see his eyes very well in the shadow of the brim of his hat, but his smile clearly ridiculed her. "And I have him inside my coat for protection from the weather, as any good father would do."

There was something disquieting about the way he said, "good father." Ruby couldn't leave, even though she feared for her own safety. Not till she made certain little Moses was safe.

She tried the only ruse she thought might work on a man the likes of Caleb Stone - subservience. "Please, may I see the baby again before I go?"

"Come inside."

"No." She stepped closer and watched his face for a sign he suspected her of lying. “I...I really must be on my way. I just want a peek at him." That he obviously thought her daft was of no concern. The important thing was, he was moving to grant her request.

Striding to the rear of Ruby's wagon he placed the basket on the floorboards, opened his coat, and gently laid the sleeping infant in the basket, covering him with blankets up to his chin.

Ruby reached out a finger to tenderly stroke Moses' soft cheek. Caleb had done well; the baby was quite warm.

"Did you and my wife visit long?"

"Not very." And not here, Ruby added for the sake of her guilty conscience. This was the first time she had seen this man exhibit any sign of normal human kindness. It would behoove her to remember what he had done to Emma and what he might do to this innocent babe, given access to the damning information in Emma's diary.

Ruby knew Caleb was watching her, waiting for her to take her leave. She didn't know what to do next. He was bigger, faster, stronger. Escape would have to be by her wits.

"I couldn't get the damper on the stove to draw properly," Ruby said offhand. "It's awfully chilly in the house."

"Emma knows how."

"I'm afraid it's broken. Perhaps you should go check. I'll watch Moses."

"It's too cold for the child out here. Do what you please. I'm taking him to his mother." He started to reach for the basket, then paused.

Something in her eyes must have given away the fact that Emma wasn't in the two-storey house anymore. Caleb's gaze suddenly focused on her face. He scowled, then turned on his heel and sprinted up the steps to the porch. She saw him toss aside his broad-brimmed hat as he slammed the front door behind him. In seconds, light from a lone lamp was flickering through the frosty window panes.

Ruby knew he would search for Emma before returning to the wagon to demand an explanation. Still, it wasn't a large house. She saw the light fade, then reappear upstairs in Emma's empty bedroom.

Ruby acted swiftly. Caleb's sorrel was ground-hitched, its sides heaving, its nostrils blowing clouds of icy condensation. To leave the horse behind was to invite disaster. She snatched up the loose reins. "Come on, boy. Let's go."

It wasn't like she was stealing Caleb's horse any more than she'd stolen his strongbox. She merely needed to insure her safe departure. By the time the judge struggled through the drifts to his nearest neighbor's and borrowed another mount, she'd be miles away. And she's have Moses with her.

Tired, winded, the gelding refused to be hurried. Ruby tugged frantically on his bridle. Icy clumps of snow weighted the hem of her skirt, soaked her petticoats. She glanced up. The light from the lamp had returned to the ground floor!

Caleb appeared on the porch, his broad-shouldered form filling the doorway. "What the hell do you think you're doing? And where is my wife?"

Ignoring him, Ruby looped the horse's reins through the metal armrest on the side of the wagon seat. She moved the baby's basket forward where she could look after it while she drove. Her only hope was to bluff. Hopefully, Caleb would think her incapable of decisive action until it was too late.

She hoisted herself into the driver's seat. Snapping the lines, she yelled to her mules. They jumped, lunging against the traces.

Caleb flung his lamp into the snow and cursed. Before the team could summon speed, his long strides had carried him across the thirty-foot distance from the porch. He grasped the bridle of the nearest mule and halted it with a shout.

When he turned to face Ruby his eyes were blazing. "Get down."

"No! Let go of my team."

Working his way along the lines toward her, he took the reins from her icy fingers. "You came all this way with no driving gloves? My, my, how careless of you."

Her gloves! Panic filled her. Caleb had been in his study. He must have seen her gloves on his desk. Soon, he would know everything.

"Let me go, or all of Kansas will hear how you beat your wife." She managed to keep her tone even, her voice strong, in spite of the quaking in her bones.

Stone laughed. "You may as well understand what your position is, dear sister-in-law. I have friends in President Hayes's cabinet as well as the State Senate. Do you think anyone will take the word of a mere schoolteacher over mine? You and your simpering sister will never get away with vilifying me."

Ruby could see the satisfied gleam in his eyes. Worse than his threats was the realization that he was undoubtedly right. Her chances of having the truth believed were nil. Caleb glared up at her. "You, madam, are trying my patience. Hand me the baby and climb down." He rested one booted foot on the wagon step.

She held her ground. "Not until you swear no harm will come to him."

"And why would I harm him?" Caleb asked with a slow drawl. "Is there some reason? Something else you want to tell me, Miss McKay?"

"No."

He was smiling openly, now. "Oh? Then why the concern? Surely, you don't think a man would harm his own flesh and blood?" His hand shot out. His fingers closed painfully around her wrist.

Ruby's startled cry sliced through the air as he jumped back, jerking her from the wagon. She grasped his greatcoat to try to break her fall. He backhanded her across the face, sent her sprawling in the snow.

Ruby scrambled to regain her footing. He was reaching for the baby's basket! She came up behind him, pounding his back with her fists. "No! Leave him alone!"

Caleb wheeled, wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him. "All right, woman, have it your way. The infant can wait. I always thought I glimpsed a wanton beneath your Puritanical attitude. No one with such an appealing body and fiery temper can be cold to the core. Let's see how long it takes you to melt for me."

Suffocating in his tight embrace, Ruby gasped for breath, twisting and writhing to free herself. Caleb pushed back her hood. He buried his face in the soft flesh of her neck. His free hand groped under her coat, found her small, firm breast and kneaded it savagely.

No man had ever touched her that way! For Caleb Stone to do so was a horrid anathema. A despoiling she could not allow.

Caleb's overcoat had fallen open in the struggle. Ruby felt the hard butt of the revolver he always carried. Her fingers groped wildly. They closed around the pistol's grip. Jerked it free of his belt.

His eyes widened in disbelief. He released her. "Give me that."

"No." Ruby held the heavy Colt in both hands while pulling the hammer back with her thumbs. "Get away from my wagon."

"You won't get far."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Do you? I think not." Hands outstretched as if in supplication, Caleb edged closer, his back to the house.

In the dim light, Ruby didn't see his left hand make a sudden motion but she did feel it take hold of the pistol, try to twist it from her grasp.

The sharp crack of a shot echoed a moment ahead of her own shrill scream. Caleb's horse reared, pulled loose and ran off. Fortunately, her stalwart mules held their ground.

Afraid to move, Ruby watched the feverish menace leaving Caleb's eyes. Stunned, he slowly doubled over, then slumped to the ground. The bullet had penetrated his uplifted hand and gone on to hit him in the head. His arms and legs twitched spasmodically - like the wings of a freshly butchered chicken.

Bitter gorge rose in her throat. She crouched over Caleb's still body, pistol at the ready. Blood was spreading beneath his head, melting the snow and defiling the pure whiteness with its crimson stain. The skin was torn from the back of his left hand. Splinters of bone stuck out. The sickening odor of powder-burned flesh filled the air.

She waited, holding her breath. If he moved, breathed, she'd have to send for help. Her Christian upbringing would insist upon it.

Nothing stirred, save the icy prairie wind. Caleb was dead. All she’d wanted to do was help her sister and instead, she’d become a murderer! If only he hadn’t tried to wrest the gun from her! Then again, if he hadn’t grabbed her in the first place she wouldn’t have had to defend herself and none of this would have happened.

And if Emma hadn’t been so weak, so vulnerable…

Sobering, Ruby came to her senses. There was no use fussing about the past. What was done was done and couldn’t be changed, no matter how much a body prayed or wished it could. But now what?

She began to frown as she stared up at the darkening sky. Winter storms could kill as easily as a pistol. Once the weather closed in, unlucky travelers had been known to freeze to death just a few yards from the safety of a warm hearth. Clearly, it was time to start for home without delay. Caleb was beyond help. Therefore her responsibility was to the living.

Later, she’d worry about the consequences of what she’d done. Right now, her only concern was what was best for the baby.

Hell fires burned in Caleb Stone's temples. Tongues of pain streaked up his arm like flames.

Bitch. Whore. Harlot. He'd have Ruby McKay's head on a pike before he was finished with her.

He hunched over the blood-spattered saddle horn, his great, black overcoat flapping, and let his horse carry him blindly down the snow-covered road. No woman, least of all a McKay, was worth even one hair on the head of a righteously appointed lawgiver like himself. That was surely the reason her bullet had failed to do its worst.

Caleb raised his resonant, orator's voice to the heavens and began to quote, "'Hear me, O God: lighten mine eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death; lest mine enemy say, I have prevailed against him!'"

Deliverance was his due. God owed him that. Calling out, he fully expected a miracle. If not a direct bolt from Heaven, at least a suitable substitute to bring him through this life-threatening situation.

His sorrel made a sharp turn, slowed, and halted, nickering softly. Blood had caked Caleb's right eye closed. He was able to force open his left and peer through the darkness at the bobbing approach of a hurricane lamp.

There were at least two people besides the bearer of the lamp. It was clear he'd been rescued, just as he'd anticipated.

"Judge Stone? Oh, Lord-a-mercy, it is. Come here, Gideon, and give me a hand with him."

Recognizing Dan Tollefsen's voice and trusting his broad-shouldered, farmer's strength, Caleb let himself be helped to the ground. "The Lord is my deliverer," he boomed. "Is that you, Mr. Tollefsen?"

"It sure is, Judge. Now, you relax and let me and Gideon get you inside. Doc Powell is here, too. He's the one started us out lookin' for you."

"She shot me," Caleb said.

"Who shot you?" Dan's voice rose in disbelief.

"Ruby McKay, the schoolteacher. My poor wife's sister." Aware of the emotional impact his statements had to be making, Caleb paused for effect. Dramatically, he waited for the men's murmurs to die down.

"Doc said he'd heard you was hurt, Judge, but he didn't say it was Ruby what shot you!"

Caleb spotted the doctor's slim form silhouetted in the doorway of the Tollefsen house. Only Ruby knew what she'd done, so Powell must have spoken with her. Good. He'd also know where Emma was hiding. Chances were excellent that his dear wife had simply fled to her sister's. Emma never did have much imagination.

Doc Powell held open the front door while the brothers half carried the injured man through. "Put him in the parlor."

Dizzy, Caleb sank heavily into the closest chair, wincing as Powell immediately began to probe his head wound. "Ouch! Careful, you sot."

"I've not had a drink all evening," the doctor replied. "Tonight, I wanted my wits about me."

"To find me? Miss McKay told you what she'd done?"

"In a manner of speaking," Powell said, concentrating on his work. "Now, hold still while I clean this and then I'll see to your hand."

Between the cold and the shock, Caleb had nearly forgotten the bullet's damage to his left hand. He cautiously lifted the dangling member, supporting his forearm by the wrist. Entering his palm, the lead projectile had shattered the bones, destroyed everything in its path, and exited out the back, taking the flesh with it.

Caleb tried to move his fingers. They didn't respond. The bitch had crippled him! He'd spent four years dodging Confederate bullets in the War Between the States and come away with little more than a lingering case of dysentery. Now, a woman had done this to him!

Staring at the wound, he ignored Powell's ministrations. It was his left hand, so he'd still be able to write and sit a horse, but dammit, he'd be less than perfect. He knew the Good Book. His body was a temple and Ruby McKay had permanently scarred it. She would pay. That, he vowed.

Dan Tollefsen's wife, Martha, brought a basin, hot water and bandages. Her hands were trembling. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Put that down before you spill it," Dan told her.

Caleb could see that Martha was dazed. Worried for him.

It wouldn't do to have the foolish sow lose control. In her present condition she might reveal her true feelings. He had enough to worry about without adding Martha's weeping and wailing. Or, worse yet, having to try to explain away any ridiculous words of love from her.

"Go into another room, Martha," he ordered through clenched teeth. Thankfully, she obeyed.

The doctor lifted Caleb's hand, examined it and laid it in the bowl. From his expression, it was clear that Powell assessed the damage much as he had. It was bad.

"I'm sorry I didn't have more experience with such things in '64," Powell said. "But I spent most of my time in Washington, treating illness." He turned to Dan and asked for whiskey.

"And drinking, no doubt," Caleb said.

"The whiskey is to cleanse the wound," the doctor countered. Accepting the bottle he handed it first to Stone. "Perhaps you should drink some before I use it on your hand."

Caleb waved it off. "My strength is sufficient. The Lord will sustain me."

"So be it." Adam Powell put the bottle to his own lips, took a deep draught, then inverted it and dribbled its contents slowly into the gaping hole in the back of Caleb's hand. Golden liquid ran dirty brown into the basin.

The last thing Caleb remembered was the sound of his own scream.

Ruby rocked Moses in Mama's old oak rocker, cradling him gently. "It'll be all right, little one. You'll see. I'll not let any harm come to you."

The drowsy baby made no sound. Ruby's thoughts drifted. The events of the prior evening haunted her, spinning through her mind. Hardest to accept was the fact that her only sister had died in her absence. She’d been so young, so full of life. And she’d relied on Ruby the way an innocent child relies on its mother. Trouble was, Emma wasn’t so innocent.

Ruby’s jaw clenched. If only she hadn't gone to Stone's to fetch the journal. And yet, if she hadn't acted, the judge would still be alive, still have the damning diary. Emma's poor, motherless babe would be much worse off than he was now.

But why, oh why, had she shot? Her jaw clenched. Had it really been an accident or had she shot because Caleb Stone had left her no choice? Everything about his actions had convinced her he’d been going to have his way with her. Cruelly. Just the way he'd always treated Emma. And afterwards, he might very well have left her to freeze to death, there on the prairie.

Her conscience spasmed at the recollection. When the authorities came to arrest her she wouldn't even be able to claim she'd purposely sent Dr. Powell to see about Caleb, would she? Not honestly. He'd merely been present, tending to Emma... to Emma's body...when she'd returned home and blurted out her confession of what she'd done.

Ruby pushed her feet against the floor, set the rocker in motion again, and held the baby closer. She had killed a man, plain and simple. And God help her, she was glad.

She shivered. If she escaped the charge of murder for shooting Caleb, there was still a good chance the townspeople would reject her as their children's teacher on moral grounds. She didn't blame them. If it was necessary to sell the McKay farm and move on, she would. Her dreams had once included a trip west. Maybe it was time to act on that wish.

She smiled down at Moses. "Would you like that, darling? Would you like to see the wild west with me?"

Sighing, she kissed his warm, soft cheek. If she went away she'd be leaving all her closest friends, as well as the graves of everyone dear. To her, that would be a trial of the worst sort. All her roots were in Kansas.

Still, if self-imposed exile was the price she had to pay for ridding the world of Caleb Stone, then so be it. She was glad he was dead. Such a beast didn't deserve to live. Not when sweet Emma lay dead in the next room because of his cruelty.

If she had it to do over again, Ruby knew she would pull the trigger of the Army colt on purpose.

It would be easy.

In truth, almost a blessing.

Caleb awoke in the bed at Tollefsen's. A lamp cast a flickering shadow on the ceiling. Garish cabbage roses dotted the wallpaper. The strange yet slightly familiar surroundings baffled him momentarily. Then he felt the throbbing in his hand and everything came back to him. Adam Powell was the only other person present.

"You feeling better?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Alone with the doctor, Caleb felt free to speak as plainly as he wanted.

"Oh, I imagine you hurt like hell."

Powell seemed unimpressed by his rancor. That galled Caleb the more. "You're damn right. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you hurt me on purpose.

Adam shrugged. "Think what you will."

"Ruby McKay's been telling you tales about me, hasn't she?" Caleb asked, cradling his bandaged hand.

"Some."

"Did she tell you she shot me?"

Nodding again, the doctor leaned back. "She did. And with relish, if I may say so." He smiled slightly.

Though his wits were not as sharp and clear as usual, Caleb was still well equipped to play Powell's game. He managed to smile back. "My wife will uphold my version of the story, of course. Emma's sister simply became unhinged and tried to take our baby. I was shot trying to stop her. She's always been jealous. Old maids are like that. I'll bet she teaches school just so she can pretend all those children are hers."

Powell laughed. "Old maid? I don't know how old Ruby is, but I'd hardly class her as that." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped between them. "How long have you been beating your wife?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Emma is a child. Sometimes she needs to feel the hand of discipline. I'd hardly call that a beating."

"Oh, really? Well, I would."

Caleb shrugged. His head had begun to throb where the bullet had grazed him. It was obvious to him that Powell had taken up with Ruby McKay. Perhaps even bedded her. Someday, when the doctor was in one of his drunken states and likely to answer truthfully, he'd have to remember to ask if the woman was more tractable on her back than on her feet.

He stared at his accuser. "What's your point?"

"Nothing much," Powell said. "Simply that you'll soon be given the opportunity to speak to others about Ruby. At that time, you'll tell them the shooting was accidental."

Laughing aloud, Caleb shook his head in spite of the pain. "You must be joking."

"Not at all."

"And why should I agree to do that?"

Powell leaned closer, his eyes hard, his expression more serious than Caleb had ever seen it. "To keep me from accusing you of the murder of your wife."

"My..." Caleb began to gulp for breath, his pulse galloping like a team of runaway horses. "Emma? My Emma? What happened?"

"You beat her to death, Judge. I imagine your friends will find that a bit hard to forgive, don't you?"

Incredulous, Caleb was shaking his head. "No. That can't be. I didn't hit her hard." He raised tormented eyes to stare at the doctor. "You must be mistaken."

"No, I'm not. She was still weak from childbirth. Her body couldn't take the further damage you inflicted. She hemorrhaged to death."

Tears welled in the back of Caleb's eyes but he wouldn't give the doctor the satisfaction of seeing him show weakness. "How many people know about this?"

"Just you and I. That's as far as it will go if you agree to help Ruby."

"Your conscience doesn't demand retribution?" Caleb asked.

The doctor rose to leave. "No. Emma is beyond my help. It's Ruby who needs it, now." He walked to the door. "As you're fond of saying when you sentence a man to hang, vengeance belongs to the Lord. I trust Him to exact it."

Silently keeping his counsel, Caleb watched him leave. As soon as he was alone he threw himself to his knees on the floor beside the bed. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"Oh, God! Not Emma! Please, not Emma. I love her. I can make her repent. I know I can."

In his heart he knew it was too late for such prayers. He'd fully expected his sinful wife to be chastened. But not by death. And not before she'd begged his forgiveness.

This was all Ruby's fault, he decided. She and her preaching of disobedience. And she would pay. Dearly.

His weeping ceased. He took a deep, shuddering breath, his course decided. Vengeance might belong to God, but it took a man to carry it out. A man like him.

Caleb Stone would not fail his God.

Chapter 1

Although she hated to leave Emma all alone, even in death, Ruby's aching heart needed the wise counsel and comfort of a friend.

As soon as she'd fed Moses and seen to the livestock, she tossed a few of the baby's things into a carpetbag, hitched up her team and headed for town.

Kansas City was a bustling railhead, busy even on this wintry morning. It made Ruby nervous to venture so close to a seat of government. Locals knew her by sight and if word of Caleb's death had preceded her, she was sure to be arrested. That mustn't happen. Not until she was ready. Until she'd finished making provisions for Moses's care, now that he was an orphan. First, she must have him baptized. Nancy Hocker would make the perfect godmother.

The wagon bridge across the Kaw, near the Stock Exchange, wasn't finished, so Ruby couldn't use that circuitous route. She had to brave the middle of town and drive directly down Nebraska Avenue to Sixth. Thank goodness the icy weather gave her the excuse to bundle up, to pull her hood down till little of her face was visible.

Sixth Street was a narrow dirt track. It was bordered on both sides by properties smaller than the McKay farm, yet larger and more well-to-do than the row houses and tenements closer to the city center.

White, glistening drifts were still piled against the buildings and fence rows. Sun and wagon traffic had melted a lot of the snow in the streets though, leaving ugly gray slush behind.

Ruby drove slowly to keep her wheels from throwing mud. She halted the team near the small barn behind Hocker's place. As she stepped down, an old hound dog got stiffly to his feet and began to wag his tail, the greeting flinging soggy drops of slush left and right.

Shielding the baby with her body, Ruby waved him off. "Good boy, Brownie. Go on, now. Go on." To her relief the dog chose to obey and ambled off toward the barn.

She gathered up Moses and picked her way to the house, stepping carefully where the ground looked the least slippery.

Smoke was rising steadily from the chimney. Ruby rapped once on the kitchen door, then eased it open to peek inside. Wonderful, homey aromas filled her senses. Instantly comforted, she stepped through and set her cumbersome carpetbag on the braided rag rug lying just over the threshold.

Busy at the cookstove, Nancy stood with her back to the door. She was stirring an enormous black pot with a long- handled, wooden spoon and singing a hymn at the top of her lungs.

The welcome sight of her dearest friend warmed Ruby's heart to bursting. "Hello, Nancy."

The older woman whirled. "Ruby! Come in." She laughed. "Never mind, you are in." Wiping her hands on her apron she tucked stray wisps of hair into the graying mass pinned to the back of her head. "It's good to see you."

She crossed to Ruby, giving her a motherly hug that included the sleeping babe. "I see your nephew is still out and about. The Judge brought him to town, yesterday. I swear, that little man will have traveled more than Rice's Great Circus by the time he's two."

Ruby gently uncovered the baby's head. "I certainly wish I had your experience in caring for him."

"My experience was gleaned the hard way," Nancy said, smiling down at Moses. "I don't wish that on anyone." She giggled behind her hand. "Except maybe on my husband." She patted her abdomen. "Then, maybe Mr. Hocker'd be more careful."

"Oh, Nancy, not again." Joy and concern mixed in Ruby's thoughts. Her friend had already borne eight children, with six still living.

"What's done is done. A man has needs." Nancy took Moses from Ruby and placed a light kiss on his forehead. She laid him in a cradle between the stove and the table, then motioned for her visitor to sit down.

"Don't talk to me about men." Ruby chose a chair closest to the baby.

"They do have their place, dear."

"Not in my life, they don't." Tears filled her eyes. "Emma's gone to Glory, Nancy. Moses has no mother."

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry." The older woman lay a callused hand on Ruby's arm. "I should have known something dreadful had happened when I saw you wearing black. I know how you hate that color."

"I want you to be the baby's godmother." Her voice cracked.

"I'd be proud to. Real proud."

Ruby could only nod. She had stood alone against man and the elements for so long that just being in the presence of a kindred spirit gave her overwhelming peace.

Leaning over, Nancy kissed Ruby's cheek. "We'll talk more about that later. I'll wager you haven't eaten."

"I'm not hungry."

"Nonsense. You have to eat. If not for yourself, for the sake of the little one. You can't take proper care of him if you lose your strength, grieving." She bustled to the stove, opened the door to the firebox, stirred the coals and set a kettle of water on to boil. "Have you notified Undertaker Hollingsworth?"

"No. I came straight here. I was hoping you'd go and make the arrangements for me. I want a pretty coffin, just like Mama had. With the gray coach and team, not the black one. And I'll have to find a suitable preacher."

Nancy frowned at her. "Judge Stone will expect to make those arrangements."

"No, he won't." Ruby felt herself stiffening, her body readying for flight.

"Of course, he will." Nancy took Ruby's hands. "You and I know he's a scoundrel, but he is - was - Emma's husband. He has that right."

"He has no rights," Ruby said clearly. "Caleb is dead. I shot him."

"You what?"

"Shot him. He's dead."

She saw her friend swallow the information, think about it for a moment, then nod in acceptance.

"I see." Slowly, Nancy walked back to the stove, added tea leaves and hot water to a bone china pot. She brought it to the table, then went back for matching cups. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only you, Adam Powell and the good Lord."

"Me and the Lord, I trust. Can we rely on the doctor to keep his counsel?"

"I'll not try to hide it," Ruby told her. "Caleb and I struggled. The gun went off accidentally. I did nothing wrong."

"You have a witness?"

"God is my witness."

Nancy shook her head. "That's all well and good if you shoot a robber. I'm not sure how well it will set for killing a judge."

"He was evil, Nancy." Ruby paused while her friend filled both cups. The amber liquid swirled, eddied, then was still. She confessed, "I find myself wondering if perhaps I was the instrument of the Lord."

"Seems to me you'd best stick to being just a simple, helpless woman until this is all over."

Ruby sipped the tea. Her hands were trembling.

Nancy patted them. "You know I'll do whatever I can. So will my Nellie and the Webber girls."

"That's not what worries me," Ruby countered. "Caleb Stone had everyone fooled. They all thought he was a saint. And I've killed him."

"Not everyone thought so." Nancy rose and brought a pan of cornbread to the table. She cut a square for Ruby and urged her to take a bite before she continued. "I was against him marrying Emma and I said so. But Mr. Hocker refused to talk to your Pa about it."

She leaned her elbows on the checkered tablecloth and wrapped both callused hands around her teacup. "Now, dear heart, I want you to tell me everything. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out. We have to be ready for whatever happens next."

Tollefsen's farm felt like a prison to Caleb. He had to get out of there, away from the solicitous brothers and their wives. The sooner the better. He had a score to settle. Gritting his teeth, he rose from the rope-slung feather bed and began to dress.

"I don't know if you should be up and about, yet, Judge," the doctor said. "That wound of yours is bad."

Caleb winced. He'd managed his pants and boots but he was having a devil of a time trying to push his bulky bandage through the sleeve of his coat. "I must go and see my wife. Give me a hand, will you?"

Powell complied, guiding him gently. Shrugging the coat the rest of the way over his shoulders, Caleb cradled his painful hand. Perspiration had broken out on his forehead but he couldn't allow himself to give in to weakness. He glanced past Powell to the window. "I see Dan has our horses ready. I'd be obliged if you'd ride along with me to Ruby's."

"I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China."

"You still don't trust me, do you?"

"Not much. I'll feel better when you've told everyone straight out that Ruby is innocent. Cleared the air."

Caleb nodded as if he agreed. He'd noticed the man's hands were shaking. For all his bravado, the doctor lacked true courage. And he'd apparently not had much to drink in the past twenty-four hours, either. Both facts could be used to good advantage.

"I did speak to the Tollefsens in Ruby's behalf," he said. "You heard me."

"You told them not to blame her," Powell countered. "I had something a bit more specific in mind. Like sending Dan to town to assure the sheriff that the entire incident was totally accidental."

"Surely, he inferred as much."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. When I tried to explain further, you were no help at all."

"I was still in terrible pain at the time," Caleb argued. "Confused. Suffering greatly. I can't be expected to wax eloquent under those circumstances."

Dan Tollefsen's wife, Martha, swept into the room uninvited, her skirts trailing behind her, her hands clasped to her breast over a lace-edged handkerchief. Her swollen eyes were rimmed in red. "Oh, my dear, Judge." She halted a few feet from Caleb's broad chest. "Must you leave so soon?"

"Alas, yes," he said. "Poor Emma lies at her sister's and it is my duty to see to the arrangements. Such things won't wait."

"What about the baby? Have you made any plans for a nurse? I'd be most happy to take over his care. Mr. Tollefsen has already promised I can spend my days at your place for as long as need be."

Caleb found her hopeful look amusing. Care for the baby, indeed! He wondered how he could stand the adulterous Martha's constant demands on his manhood if she did come to stay with him.

He managed to look suitably distraught. "I can't bring myself to make such a serious decision now. I do thank you and your husband for your concern." Brushing by her, he lingered just long enough to give her plump hand a cursory pat. "Bless you both."

Martha dabbed at her eyes and stood in the doorway, watching him go. Caleb felt her admiring glance. He squared his shoulders, determined to show no weakness.

Dan was holding the bridle of Stone's horse. "I fed him good and brother Gideon gave him a rubdown," he said, steadying the animal till Caleb could mount one-handed.

"The Lord will bless you." Stone raised his orator's voice. "'For inasmuch as ye have done it onto one of the least of these, ye have done it onto me.'"

"I'll remember that. You take care, Judge. Gideon and me'll send the womenfolk over anytime you need 'em. You just ask."

"Thank you," Caleb said. "As soon as I have seen to Emma and reclaimed my son, I'll look into hiring a wet-nurse for him."

The man removed his hat in deference. "We're all sorry about what's happened, Judge. Good luck to you."

Caleb's horse was shifting its weight, eager to be off. "Luck has nothing to do with it, Daniel. The Lord will watch over me as He always has. Thank you for your hospitality."

As Dan nodded and replaced his hat, Caleb addressed the doctor. "Ready?"

Powell hauled his thin, stoop-shouldered frame into the saddle. "Ready."

Without further hesitation, Caleb dug his heels into the horse's side. His hand throbbed with every beat of his heart, every step the animal took, yet the bracing cold seemed to ease the worst of the pain.

Frowning, he stared down at the bandages, his fury building. Ruby would pay, and pay dearly.

It occurred to Caleb that he was getting hungry by the time he and Powell finally reached the McKay farm near Splitlog's Hill. Pain had dulled his appetite when Mary had

offered breakfast. Now, he wished he'd tried to eat.

He slowed his horse and peered at the house, frowning. No smoke came from the chimney. "I would have expected some sign of life by this time of the morning."

"Maybe Miss Ruby's left," the doctor ventured. "With Emma abed in her room, she may have gone to stay with friends."

"I suppose so." In Ruby's absence, Caleb knew he'd have to change his plans. No matter. Perhaps seeing her hang for her sins was best, after all. The vision gave him pleasure.

He turned to the doctor. "That’s Emma’s buggy out by the barn. Would you mind hitching it up for me? I seem to be temporarily unable to do much for myself."

Powell nodded. "As soon as I check the house." Dismounting, he tied his horse's reins to a low-hanging branch of a bare apple tree and walked quickly to the door. In a few minutes, he returned.

Caleb had managed to dismount, unaided. His boots crunched in the snow. "I take it you're satisfied we're alone?"

"I am. I'll hitch the buggy for you. Miss Ruby's already dressed your wife real pretty, so you'll have no problem with anyone seeing the damage you inflicted."

Talk on, Caleb mused. Make this easy for me. "I had no intention of letting C.W. embalm her, anyway. The Lord's temple should not be defiled."

"Defiled? Oh, spare me the rhetoric, judge." He hesitated. "Well, are you coming?"

"I want to go see my wife, first."

"I'll go with you."

"No, please. I need to be alone." For once, Caleb didn't have to try to sound humble. The show of genuine weakness troubled him greatly.

"I guess even you deserve that. Join me in the barn when you're ready to leave."

Nodding, Caleb cradled his injured hand and made his way to Ruby's front door. To the left of the porch he saw a window standing ajar, admitting the biting cold. That would be the room where Emma lay. It was all he could do to force himself to step inside.

He stomped the snow off his boots on the rug just inside the door. The last time he'd seen the McKay parlor was when old Asa had died. Emma had been too distraught to travel, so he'd come alone to call on Ruby, to comfort her in her sorrow, and she'd all but thrown him out. Little did she know he would one day own everything that was hers. As her nearest living relative and Moses's father, once Ruby was hanged, it would all come to him.

He looked around the room. He'd keep the pump organ, the Persian rug and perhaps the etagere. The rest of the furniture was far inferior to the pieces he'd had shipped from New York to impress Emma.

Emma. Slowly, Caleb walked to the bedroom door. His head throbbed, his heart aching beyond any pain he'd ever known.

The door swung open at his touch. There, dressed in fine wool, silk and velvet lay his dearest love. Of all the women he'd ever lain with, only Emma McKay had captured his heart. Consequently, only she was capable of breaking it. And so she had.

Caleb stared for a long time before he finally approached the bed where his wife lay. She looked so cold, so fragile, like fine china. Clouds of her cornsilk-colored hair billowed about her head. Flowing ringlets had been lovingly combed over the pillow. It was a pose of sleep, not of waking, that Ruby had created. Caleb approved. He'd not have anyone pulling Emma's hair back into the severe style she usually wore.

Tears flowed silently down his cheeks as he bent over his once-eager bride. She'd shamed him, but in his heart he'd always treasure the naive maiden she'd been when they'd exchanged their sacred vows.

His lips brushed her cheek. So cold. Like alabaster ice. "I would have loved you forever," he whispered. "But the Lord could not permit me to be joined to such an unrepentant sinner."

A noisy cough behind him caused Caleb to start. Hiding his tears he straightened but refused to turn around. "What is it, doctor?"

"The buggy's ready. I'll ride into town with you to look for Ruby and the baby."

“So you can tell everyone your ridiculous story about how I beat my wife? That won't be necessary. I'll go alone."

"Like hell, you will."

Caleb took a quick swipe at his cheeks with his bandaged hand, wiping away the signs of his weeping. When he turned to face the doctor, a sardonic smile had replaced his sorrow. "I see. Did you leave the buggy in the barn?"

"Yes."

"Good. Walk me out there."

Backing away, Powell cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. "I think not."

"Oh, I think you will." Caleb's voice was as cold as the frozen body of the girl who had once pledged him her troth. He pulled a derringer from his pocket and pointed it at the center of Powell's chest. "Let's go.”

Ruby took Nancy's hands. "I wish I didn't have to ask anything more of you, but word of Caleb's death may have reached the bank. I mustn't be found until I've taken care of the business that brought me to town. After that, I'll fetch Dr. Powell as my witness and go to the sheriff to turn myself in."

"I understand," Nancy said.

"Most of all, I want to arrange for the McKay farm to pass to the baby if anything should happen to me. What's his is his. Someday he may thank me." She swiped angrily at a stray tear. "I'm sorry. This has been a terrible trial."

"This, too, shall pass."

Ruby sighed. "I hope so. I need to get back to the schoolhouse. I've neglected my duties long enough."

"Don't you worry about that. Remember Lucy, the oldest Bates girl? She's been teaching in your place. My Phillip likes her. She's not as knowledgeable as you are but she'll do till you're able to work, again."

"If I ever am."

"Of course, you will be." Nancy buttoned her coat and pulled on a pair of gloves. "No one will blame you for defending yourself against a lecherous madman."

Ruby tried to smile and succeeded. Being around Nancy Hocker always made her feel uplifted, as if the sky had cleared and spring flowers were about to burst into bloom. What a blessing it was to have such a friend! Her smile grew naturally. "Thank you for believing in me, Nancy. Are you certain Mr. Hocker will let you make the withdrawal from Papa's account?"

Nancy chuckled. "There are certain advantages to being the banker's wife. If not him, then Pearce can handle it for me. He'll be so sorry to hear about Emma. They were such good friends."

"I know." Ruby lowered her gaze quickly, afraid Nancy would read too much in her eyes. "It's truly sad."

The older woman patted her hand. "Never you fear. This will all work out for the best."

"Hurry back?" Ruby hated to see her go.

"As fast as those poor old mules of yours will carry me. Is there anything else you need besides some money, the deed, and Mr. Hollingsworth's services?"

"No. I've milk aplenty for Moses at home and I was making a layette as a surprise for Emma, so he won't lack for clothing, either." She gestured toward her carpet bag. "I brought some of the things with me."

"Good. Keep the fire going and don't forget to stir the stew every so often while I'm gone. Mr. Hocker gets very short-tempered if his supper's burned."

Impulsively, Ruby gave Nancy a hug. "You are the best and dearest friend I've ever had."

"As you are to me," Nancy replied. "Now, go and rest while you can. Put your feet up. Close your eyes for a bit. Everything will be all right. You'll see."

Ruby smiled and nodded, shutting the door behind Nancy and latching it. Weariness flowed through her. She walked to the side window to watch her wagon pull out of the yard.

Nancy was right. Soon, all this agony would be past. All the misunderstandings would end. And she would raise her nephew as her own.

She would forever miss her dear little Emma, of course. But the peace of mind which seemed so elusive at the moment would return. Life would go on as before. There was no earthly reason to doubt it.

Pearce Hocker saw his mother arrive at the bank. Her bonnet askew, her cloak flying, she burst through the tall double front doors, hurried across the polished wood floor of the lobby, and went immediately into his father's private office.

Straining to listen, Pearce couldn't hear much, even though Parkerson's office door had a fancy etched glass top. He was able to gather from his parents' raised voices, however, that some terrible event must have occurred.

He tried to finish his transaction with the widow Carmichael while still half-concentrating on the heated conversation between his parents. He was already uneasy because angry, rough-looking men had been coming in response to his father's summons ever since the bank had opened that morning. Each had insisted that only bank president Parkerson Hocker could help him.

And now, Mother was in there. Pearce stared at the closed office door. His thoughts were yanked back to his immediate task by the sharp rap of a cane handle on the inlaid marble counter.

"See here, young man. You've cheated me."

"I - I'm very sorry, Mrs. Carmichael." Pearce counted again and added a dollar. "There. Thank you for banking with us."

The voices were growing louder. His father had started shouting. Slamming the grate of his teller cage, Pearce closed the window behind it and headed for Parkerson's office. It was one thing for the man to yell at him or at other employees. It was quite another to raise his voice to Mother.

Pearce rapped once, then opened the door and stepped inside. Both his parents stopped their conversation, stared at him.

"Mother. Father," Pearce said. "I thought you should know. The bank's customers are beginning to notice the commotion in here."

Nancy managed a weak smile. "Thank you, Pearce." He saw she was trembling.

No one moved. Parkerson's face was red, his cigar bitten nearly in two. He faced his son. "Well? Was there something else?"

Pearce cleared his throat. The older man's forceful presence had always intimidated him. It still did, no matter how much taller and stronger he'd grown, of late. "No, sir. I just thought perhaps I could be of some assistance to Mother."

"Your mother and I were having a private discussion when you burst in," the older man said. "Leave us."

Bowing slightly, Pearce started to back away.

Nancy took a step, laid her gloved hand gently on his arm. "Wait. I think you should hear this from me, not from a stranger."

"What is it, Mother?" He saw tears filling her eyes. If his father had harmed her the way some men hurt their wives, he'd... Placing his hand over her smaller one, he looked lovingly down at her.

She cupped his cheek with her other hand. "It's Emma Stone, darling. She's passed on."

Pearce felt as if an abyss had opened beneath his feet. He was plummeted straight to hell. Only a few weeks before, when Judge Stone had announced that Emma had given birth, he'd had to fight every instinct in his body to keep from going to her. Now it was too late.

"Oh, God." The sound of his own voice was foreign to him, its echo hollow in the confines of the small room. He felt Nancy's hand tighten on his arm, heard her murmur something. He couldn't take it in. A scream of despair was building inside him, growing harder to control. He had to get away. To be alone.

He shook free of his mother's grasp. Emma. Oh, God, no. Please, not Emma. Please, let it be a mistake.

"Leave the boy alone," Parkerson ordered when Nancy reached toward her son. "He'll be a man yet, if you give him half a chance."

A man? Pearce thought. What kind of man abandons the woman he loves to a merciless sadist? He should have acted. Should have spirited Emma off to some faraway country where Stone could never find her. But he'd been too concerned with propriety, with protecting her reputation, and he'd failed her.

His breath caught. When she'd begged him to go away, to leave her alone, he'd bowed to her demands instead of seeking out the truth he knew was hidden in her heart. She'd loved him, well and truly! And he'd been too much of a coward to save her.

Bursting out the office door he darted into the street. Thoughts of escape filled his wounded mind. Pushing people aside, he ran down the board walk.

Everyone seemed to crowd in on him. A man he barely recognized grabbed at his arm. Shouts followed. Pearce jumped to the muddy street and crossed it. Saddle horses were tied in a ragged line in front of the mercantile. The largest, a bay, seemed the answer to his prayers.

Not caring where he went or whose horse he was taking, Pearce swung aboard. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing. Without Emma, there was no sun. No moon. No world for him at all. His life had ended with hers.

Grasping the reins tightly, he kicked the bay again and again. The malodorous stockyards and outskirts of Kansas City went by in a blur. His mother had not said what Emma had died of and in his initial shock, he'd assumed that complications of childbirth had been the cause. Oh, God! What if that was not the case?

His hands tightened on the reins, his knuckles whitening. What if Stone had beaten her again? She'd promised to come to him for help if that happened, but suppose she'd been unable to escape?

The horse slowed in response to his tightened grip. Pearce squeezed his eyes closed, his mind spinning with possibilities. If Stone were responsible for Emma's death, he'd find out and make him pay.

And if not? Pearce was inconsolable. What if she'd died of a broken heart because he neglected to show her how much he loved her?

If that was so, he decided easily, then his course was decided. He'd join her in heaven and confess his love to her there.

The thought of death comforted him but he knew he must not act rashly. Only alive could he exact any necessary vengeance on Caleb Stone. That done, there would be plenty of time to choose how to go to be with his beloved for eternity.

Resigned, Pearce turned the horse and started slowly back toward town.

The man in the dusty leather coat removed his hat as he was ushered into the bank president's office. He extended his hand. "Braxton Rutledge. Up from The Territories."

"Parkerson Hocker."

Hocker shook the taller man's hand, ignored his full beard, long hair and unkempt appearance, and offered him a chair. Brax liked that. He'd be able to do business with this man.

"How can I help you?"

Handing over a stack of vouchers, Brax waited while the banker seated himself behind his desk and examined them.

"This is quite a large sum," Hocker said.

"It was a big herd. I'm glad to get them to market."

"Surely you don't intend to carry this much cash on your person."