Angel's Embrace Read online

  “Who’d’ve b’lieved that!”

  “—and has twins named Rachel and Rebecca, and a third one on the way. But—but it’s Billy I’d like to talk to you about!” she confessed. “I just have to have one of your pies, Beulah Mae, because—”

  “Because you’s sweet on him. Like you always was.”

  Eve blinked.

  The old cook’s bosom shook as her laughter filled the fragrant bakery. “Oh, you and Wesley traded insults, and you always knew how to get ’im riled up over some little thing,” she said with a fond shake of her head. “But ole Beulah Mae seen the way you and Mister Billy set in the porch swing together, and told each other your troubles. Cain’t do that with just any man, no matter how old—or young—he is.”

  Eve nipped her lip. This woman’s assessment of their childhood times together rang true, even after all that had happened to the three of them these past few years. Yes, it was Wesley she’d enjoyed setting off—just as it was Billy she’d gone to when her kitten died—

  And when Olivia was born.

  —because Billy understood how to console her, and how to steer her clear of bad choices, and—

  “So he’s back in town, too, is he? If you be needin’ a pie, he cain’t be far away.”

  Eve saw tears in the old cook’s eyes as she nuzzled Olivia’s cheek. “He’s moved back into the Bristol place, Beulah Mae. I’m not supposed to know that, but—”

  “But a pie’ll be your surprise to make him forget you’s walkin’ in on his.” She handed Olivia back with a fond swat on her bottom. Then the creases around her eyes deepened. “You’s too late for a pie today, missy, but tomorrow I’ll make you up—”

  “But there’s a pie right there in your case!”

  “—a punkin pie, ’cause that was always the fastest way to Mr. Billy’s heart,” Beulah Mae continued. She raised an eyebrow, assessing Eve. “And I won’t charge you nothin’ for it, if I can go out there with you, so’s I can see that boy again. I’s heard some terrible stories ’bout what his brother done to that house. Just so happens I’s got lots of time to help him there . . . if he wants me to.”

  Eve glanced around the little shop, confused. “You’d leave your shop to—it’s going to be a long, hard job—”

  “Come Saturday, I won’t be here, Miss Eve. Owner of this buildin’s got him a tenant a-wantin’ this little place. A white woman he’s been lookin’ after, if you see what I’s sayin’.”

  “But you seem to be doing so well, I never dreamed—” “Well, I mighta dreamed,” Beulah Mae said with a heavy sigh, “but I shoulda knowed it could come to a screechin’ halt when the landlord caught a whiff of a different kinda sugar.”

  The old woman had lost her sparkle now. She looked so disappointed, Eve couldn’t possibly turn her down. “Of course you can go!” she said softly. “Come by the Crystal Inn when you’ve closed up for the day, and we’ll head out there. Billy’ll be so excited to see you!”

  The old cook’s chuckle followed her to the door. “You do carry on so, child. It’s you he’ll be excited to see. And that sweet little Olivia, of course.”

  “Dammit, call off your dogs, Bristol! When’d you get these mangy mutts, anyway?”

  Billy took his time dropping an armload of rotted fence boards beside the lane, trying to recall who that reedy voice belonged to. Since his barking border collies were excellent judges of character—and since this visitor thought he was Wesley—it might pay to get his thoughts together before he replied. He was exhausted after another morning of mending fences; alone and easy prey, if one of his brother’s outlaw cohorts had come here to cause trouble.

  Slowly, he rose to his full height, taking in horse and rider from beneath his hat brim. “Snowy! Spot! Sit down, pups.”

  “Snowy? What kind of sissy-butt name is—”

  “If you want to find out what kind of sissy that dog is, keep insultin’ her,” Billy said in a coiled voice. “Otherwise, just state your business. I’ve got work to do.”

  The fellow’s eyes widened. Then they narrowed into a weasely expression Billy remembered quite well. “You ain’t Wesley—”

  “Nope. But you’re Jared Mayhew. One of his associates, I take it.”

  “Wanna make somethin’ of it, little Billy? I came by for what your brother owes me, but I can just as well beat it outta you!”

  Billy didn’t let his gaze waver, but he was wishing he’d worn his pistol today, just for show. “Can’t help you with that—and neither can Wes,” he said in the most confident voice he could call up. “He’s right over there, inside that iron fence now. Beside our daddy.”

  Mayhew’s nostrils flared. He glanced to where Billy pointed, but looked back fast—as though the smoothed-over rectangle of bare dirt spooked him. “Don’t think for a minute you’ll worm outta this!” he jeered. “Wesley got this place in trade for a job we pulled for Leland Massena, and the rest of us has a right to our shares! He said he was gonna pay us, dammit!”

  Sensing those others might be watching from the hedgerow, or laying low behind the house, Billy considered his next steps carefully. He would not lose his life over his brother’s criminal career, or because of his own stupidity.

  “You should’ve thought of that a while back, I guess. What with Massena and my brother both gone now—”

  “You never were the brightest candle in the pack, Billy. Maybe I’ll just have to—”

  When the thug went for his pistol, Spot let out a menacing bark and Snowy lunged for Mayhew’s leg. A wild shot rang out as the horse skittered backwards, wide-eyed, while the dogs circled and barked, nipping at its knees.

  “Helloooo there, Mr. Bristol! Hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient time!” somebody called from farther down the lane.

  He’d never been happier to see anybody in his life: Carlton Harte’s top hat and fine frock coat smacked of a covert strategy Billy knew not to betray. The detective slowed his mount to a walk, poised to draw and shoot even though he was dressed like a professional gentleman.

  Billy cleared his throat. “No, sir, I just came up from fixin’ fence—”

  “Brought the deed to your place. Paid in full—signed, sealed, and delivered.” Harte leveled his purposeful gaze on Billy as he reached into his inside jacket pocket. “The new bank president was glad to have this matter settled properly, considering the way your brother came into the property.”

  “Lemme see that!” Mayhew grabbed for the document in Harte’s hand, but the detective deftly dodged his move—and caught him by the wrist. “I don’t believe we’ve met, sir.”

  “This is Jared Mayhew,” Billy put in. With a pointed look, he shushed the barking dogs. “Says he came to collect on one of Wesley’s debts—”

  A flash of gleaming metal caught the sunlight, and then two quick clicks had the outlaw cussing. “You’ve got no call to—”

  “I’m placing you under arrest, Mr. Mayhew!” Carlton announced, brandishing the arm that was now handcuffed to his. “No sense in fighting me, or doing anything stupid, because the two men who were hiding in the house and down the lane are already on their way to jail.”

  “You can’t tell me—”

  “No?” Harte challenged. “Well, maybe if you tell me the whereabouts of the Younger boys, or Frank and Jesse James, things’ll go a little easier with the judge. Now drop the gun.”

  Harte’s folded paper had fluttered to the ground, and Billy picked it up cautiously. There was still a chance Jared would shoot him instead of following orders.

  “This is the biggest—falsified—you’ve got nothin’ on me!”

  Billy unfolded the document, his heart pounding with excitement now. “Looks pretty official to me, Jared,” he said, holding it up. “Says I’m now the legal owner of this spread. Since you can’t collect from a dead man—and I don’t owe you anything—I’m gonna let this fella escort you off my property.”

  “He’s just some high-and-mighty guard you’ve hired!” Mayhew protested. He was t
rying to slip free of the metal cuffs, but the agitated movements of his horse kept him off-balance. “You always had to hide behind somebody.”

  “And this time it’s the law,” Harte replied smartly. “We’ve been waiting for you boys to make a stupid move, and today’s our day! Let’s go, Mayhew. Billy has enough cleaning up to do here, without having your sorry carcass in his way.”

  Billy stood in the shade of the huge old maple trees, removing his straw hat to scratch his sweaty head. Jared Mayhew was cussing Carlton every step of the way. He grinned at how his dogs were herding them off the property: Snowy and Spot already knew this was their new domain.

  When the black-and-white dogs loped back toward him, he crouched with his arms open wide. Spot licked his face, letting out little woofs, while Snowy leaned against him, insisting he scratch her backside.

  “You saved my neck, ya know it?” he crooned to his collies. “And no matter what Wesley’s old buddies wanna believe, the place is ours! I’ve got my land back, pups!”

  His heart pounded as the reality of that hit him. After ten years away, and being abandoned, and then nearly getting shot down by his brother, he—Billy Bristol—had finally come home!

  A feeling of inexplicable peace settled over him, as though invisible angels hovered in the trees, flapping their gauzy wings to cool and comfort him—standing guard, like that fiery-sworded sentinel at the gate to the Garden of Eden, to preserve him from further harm. He felt as if he’d passed some sort of test, and had just received the keys to the kingdom.

  He lifted his face to the sun, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Lord, for bringin’ me through this time of trial,” he murmured, “and for bringin’ me home again, like I’ve always dreamed about. And thank you for givin’ me the faith to see it all through.

  “But I could really use some help with that poor old house,” he added tiredly. “Mendin’ fences and raisin’ horses is what I’m cut out to do, Lord, but when it comes to—”

  The thunder of hooves roused him from his prayer, and when the two dogs took off toward the road, Billy’s jaw dropped.

  If he hadn’t recognized those sturdy brown Morgans, he would’ve thought he was being stampeded. But no! That was Reuben Gates on one side of the herd’s dust cloud, whistling and funneling them down the driveway! Boots and Hattie were nipping at them, running along the other side to keep them moving.

  And that was Mike Malloy’s hat on the other side—

  And if that wasn’t Mr. Lincoln—with Solace—

  “Hope you’ve got your fences fixed, Billy Bristol,” she hollered, “’cause here we come!”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  He ran ahead of them to throw open the white plank pasture gate he’d repaired and painted only yesterday. How was it that everything was falling into place for him now, happening at just the right time?

  It’s the answer to your prayers, Billy. It’s the good seeds you’ve sown, bearing fruit.

  Billy shook his head, wondering if he’d been out in the sun too much. That voice in his mind seemed more insistent these days, sometimes sounding like Judd Monroe and sometimes more like Michael. But he’d learned to welcome it—and to believe in it. Some folks might call it intuition, but he knew it as Divine Wisdom.

  And as he stood to the side holding the gate, counting off a full dozen yearlings plus three mares and a stallion he’d raised and trained himself, Billy felt ready to burst. These sturdy horses didn’t look as fancy as the thoroughbreds his daddy had raised, but they were solid. Dependable.

  Just like the man who rode up beside him to watch the horses explore the pasture.

  “Good to see you, Billy! I figured you’d have this place shaped up for your horses, so here they are!”

  “And they already act like they b’long here, too,” Reuben Gates joined in. He looked the place over from the top of his tall mount, then smiled. “Mr. Billy, I can sure understand why you was called back to this fine ranch. Look there! They’s already found the stream, down by them walnut trees, ’cause the dogs knows their scent—and knows their job!”

  Billy grinned, shaking his head: the four border collies were frolicking in the pasture now, while Solace was giving Mr. Lincoln his head. The sight of them racing hellbent-for-leather over the rolling green hills brought back many a fond memory—more than his heart could hold.

  “Michael, you shouldn’t have—I never intended for you to bring me—”

  “Oh, but I figured on it all along, son.” Malloy’s mustache twitched with his grin. “Call it an early birthday present if it makes you feel better, but you earned every one of those Morgans.”

  “But what about your ranch?” he protested. “This has to be a third of your herd!”

  The slender man swung down from his mount to shut the gate, looking it over closely. “Fine job on this repair, Billy—like I knew it would be. You never do anything halfway.”

  His hazel eyes shone with pride as he clapped Billy on the back. “Reuben and I talked about how things’ll be, now that you’ve got a place of your own, and we’ve moved the horses from Mercy’s homestead into our stables. We’re going to take down those outbuildings, and the ones on the Clark place, and plow that into crop land. I’ve been thinking that’s the way to go for a long while now. Less upkeep—with less help. More to send to market.”

  Billy blinked. “There’s no way I can repay, or thank you enough for—”

  “Well, here comes the rest of ’em, finally!” Solace cried, pointing toward the lane. “Took ’em long enough!”

  Billy turned, and took off at a trot. Asa was driving a new buckboard, which was loaded with building materials and supplies, and behind him came the carriage. Mercy and Sedalia Gates were in that driver’s seat, with Lily and Grace hanging out the windows, waving wildly at him.

  “Surprise, Billy!” the blonde’s melodious voice rang out. “We brought you a whole housewarming party!”

  “And lunch! From uptown!” Gracie crowed.

  “Yessir, you’s got yer work cut out for ya now,” Asa teased. He halted his horse and sat there for a moment, grinning down at Billy. “After the funeral, when Mercy and me seen what your house was like, we knew exactly what we wanted to do for ya. We’s brought paint, and cleanin’ supplies—”

  “And lots of little hands to help!”

  Gracie ran at him. Billy caught her up in a hug before raising her above his head to make her shriek. Then he grabbed Lily—who wore calico today, but it was pink calico!—and grinned at Temple.

  “You all are a sight for sore, tired eyes!” he rasped. “I’ve gotten a lot done outside, but that poor house—”

  “Mama made lists for each of us,” the little blonde informed him. “She says it’s good practice for when we have homes and husbands of our own.”

  For just a moment, he gazed at these dear little girls—and Solace, who was running toward him in her dusty pants and plaid shirt—and imagined what fine young women they would become someday. Each had different gifts and talents, but they’d been raised by parents who’d shown them the same love and devotion every day of their lives.

  “You’d better believe I’m gonna check those fellas over before I let you marry ’em!” he teased.

  “Marry ’em?” Solace threw herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “I thought you and me—”

  “You and I,” Lily corrected primly.

  “—were gonna be a team, Billy! So’s I won’t have to get married and wear one of those sissy white dresses!”

  Mercy laughed as she came up to him. She kissed his cheek loudly, swatting his backside. “Heaven forbid that Solace Monroe would wear lace or pull her hair up and curl it! I have to warn you, Billy, she’s been threatening to stay here at your place—”

  “Because she thinks you won’t make her do any school work!” Gracie flashed him an impish grin. “I’ve learned all the books of the Bible now, Billy. Wanna hear them? Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy—” />
  As he gazed around him, at Sedalia and Temple laughing as they handed boxes down to the men—at the wide smiles this family wore because they enjoyed bringing him this surprise—at the little girls who adored him with all their hearts—at the sheer amount of food and supplies the Malloys had brought him—Billy felt speechless. Oh, he’d labored well enough alone, and he’d had the dogs for company, and he’d resigned himself to several weeks of work before things would look good enough for Mama and Eve to see.

  But this. This happy family gathering—to help him!

  And to think he would’ve missed it—the Malloys’ boundless love—if he’d never had to leave this place as a boy of ten.

  He’d come so far. He’d gained so much. It came over him in a big rush, how God had taken all those hard, sorry parts of his boyhood after his daddy died, and worked them into a fine life that had now come full circle.

  To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.

  The words Lily had read over his brother’s grave came back to him now, with more strength and power—more meaning—than those verses had held for him before. It was more than he’d dared to ask for, this display of love from the Malloys. And certainly more than he deserved.

  “All right, girls, you know our plan!” Mercy sang out. “We’ll put down the quilts under these trees, and enjoy our picnic lunch. And then it’s work, work, work!”

  A picnic lunch, too? Billy’s stomach rumbled as familiar hampers came out of the carriage. It boggled his mind, all the planning Mercy had done, to travel from Abilene with supplies and food and then buy the rest of the meal in town, after they’d arrived. And it had taken plenty of organization on Michael’s part, too: getting the Morgans and the loaded wagons on the train, and herding those horses here from the Lexington station.

  But then, the Malloys had always been pretty good at miracles. The everyday kind of miracles that were woven into God’s magnificent plan over the years.

  He grabbed a crockery water pot—the one Asa always used for lemonade—and carried it to where the ladies were arranging their dinner. Sedalia was unwrapping a package of sliced ham, and her husband was hoisting a crate that held dishes and silverware.