Isabelle had been with Jess whenever she was allowed, and he found that he didn’t mind her presence. She was good company and instinctively knew when he needed to be alone. Several times he’d awakened in the night to find her sleeping in the chair by his bed. He was sure the nuns didn’t know she did that, and she was always gone by morning. Nothing was ever said between them.
The Reverend Mother had sat with him and read to him. He sensed that she wanted to tell him something, but she always hesitated and changed the subject. Finally, one day he asked her flat out. It was like a dam had burst. She let all of her fears spill out. She was a proud woman, and was not one to admit fear, but he could see it in her face. She was devout and was convinced that God had sent Jess to them to help them.
She told him that a man named Elizondo had tried unsuccessfully through the courts to take their land from them. The church did not own the land or the orphanage. A man named Lancer who leased it to them for one dollar a year owned it. He was a good man and helped them with expenses and encouraged his well-to-do friends to do the same. With those resources, and their own resourcefulness, the orphanage had survived for going on seventeen years.
The Mother had a long distance business relationship with Mister Lancer. He had not visited in many years, and all of their correspondence was handled in letters. She had never told any of the order about their arrangement. Only the Bishop knew and he left all of the business to her.
Mother Agnes had not known until recently that Elizondo had supposedly found a loophole in Murdoch Lancer’s ownership of the land. It had to do with the main building that housed the orphanage. It was an old, a very old Spanish estate and one of the outbuildings had been an ancient mission. The deed to the land had left open the possibility that the Spanish government still owned the buildings, if not the land itself. It was a right of domain that had to do with the historical significance of the building, and the Spanish royal family. She did not pretend to understand it.
All she understood, was that Elizondo was trying all legal means, and some probably illegal ones to take the land and the buildings that stood on it. He had somehow convinced an unscrupulous Spanish official to sign over the buildings to Elizondo’s “preservation society”, the defender of Spanish heritage in the San Joaquin valley. He would see that the buildings were preserved and used to further the Spanish presence and culture in the valley. The Spanish official had envisioned California as a Spanish colony. Little did he know that his partner, Elizondo, had plans of his own.
The Reverend Mother wasn’t naďve enough to think for one minute that Elizondo had any such lofty intentions. He wanted the land so he could move in and start his long sought-after cattle empire. His ambitions far exceeded that of Lancer and any other large ranch in the north of California. She knew he would not stop until he owned the bulk of the land in the state.
She had learned two very disturbing facts in the past week. The obscure Spanish official who had been partnered with Elizondo had died in an unfortunate accident. The second thing was that Elizondo had started amassing an army. He was hiring guns. It seemed that subtlety was now a thing of the past.
Mother Agnes would not, could not ask Jess to help. She didn’t need to. He was staying he told her. Whatever happened, he would be here and would do whatever he could to protect her nuns and the children. The only other men on the place were two very old gentlemen, Aloyisius and Atticus. They were brothers who had lived in the area all their lives and who tended the stock, the gardens and did repairs. They were both in their seventies and would be of little help if trouble presented itself.
Mother Agnes smiled through tears of gratitude. There was a price, he told her. Her smile faded, but she quickly recovered. Whatever it was, she would somehow find it.
“What is it, my son?”
“A place to sleep and a place at your table.” Jess smiled broadly at her.
“A price I will gladly pay. Thank you, Mister Harper.”
She had already included Jess in her nightly prayers, and would now add his future children and his grandchildren as well.
The last two days Jess had been allowed to sit at the table with the nuns in the dining room off the kitchen. The children ate in the larger hall supervised by a few of the nuns who took turns, but the majority of the nuns ate in a private dining room. He had been apprehensive at first, but after awhile realized that they liked him to be there and were interested in conversation with their patient.
He would have expected that nuns ate in silence, or prayed while they ate, or something. He didn’t know if this group was typical, but they were far from quiet, or staid, or even pious at mealtime. The dinner conversation was frequently rowdy, even uproarious. Politics was a frequent topic, as was the war. Several of the nuns had come west after the war.
Even the Reverend Mother contributed her quick wit and devilish sense of humor to the mix. Jess found himself looking forward to meals with them.
On days when he over-did and was relegated back to bed, he missed their dinner table conversation, but one or more of them always made it a point to sit with him while he ate his meal from a tray on his lap.
On Saturday afternoon, Jess had gone outside to visit with Traveler. A number of the children had followed him and kept up a running, chattering dialogue. He had enjoyed the excursion, and it was good to see Traveler who looked a few pounds heavier and seemed very content, but, the “outing” as Mother Agnes called it, had cost him dearly. It had set him back several days.
He cursed his weakness as he was helped to bed by Sister Michael. She had gone to town and procured an elixir from the doctor to give him. He suspected it was vitamins and a generous amount of alcohol, but either that, or his exertions had served to knock him out for hours. A deep dreamless sleep overtook him as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Chapter 23
Slim was shown into the Reverend Mother’s study by a tall nun who stood ramrod straight, her hands clasped piously before her and her mouth set in a severe straight line. She had been polite, but formal and had refused to answer any of his questions, instead insisting that he speak with the Reverend Mother.
He had been shown to a small anteroom where he waited and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair for what seemed like an eternity. Was Jess here? Was he still alive? No one seemed in a hurry to assuage his fears.
He was contemplating an invasion when the inner door to the Reverend Mother’s study opened and out filed a man and woman. The woman dabbed tears from her eyes as the man had an arm firmly around her waist. The Reverend Mother, a short stout woman but with twinkling blue eyes watched them fondly until they had left, and then turned to Slim.
“You must be Mister Sherman! Please, come in.” She turned and led the way into her study. “I’m so sorry I had to keep you waiting. They were here about an adoption and I had to…well, you understand.”
Slim nodded and glanced worriedly to the door through which the couple had just vanished.
“Oh, don’t you worry about her, Mister Sherman. Those were tears of happiness, not heartbreak, I assure you.”
Relieved, Slim took the chair that the Mother indicated and sat down. She moved behind the very large desk and sat as well.
“Sister Naomi tells me that you are here looking for your friend.”
“Yes ma’am. Jess Harper. I got your letter in Laramie. He’s here isn’t he?”
She nodded. “Yes, Mister Sherman, he certainly is.”
The relief on Slim’s face and in the set of his shoulders was palpable. “How is he? You’re letter said he was very ill.”
“Oh yes, he certainly was; gravely ill, but he is making a recovery although he’s still very weak. How do you know Mister Harper?”
“He’s my…uh…he worked for me.” He hesitated and then added, “We’re friends.”
“Of course, you must be Slim from the Relay station. I hadn’t put the name Slim together with Sherman before. Jess told me about the place he worked. He spoke very fondly of the place.” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling, “The people too.”
“He did?”
“Yes, Mister Sherman. He was very fond of Laramie and working at your ranch. He told me about Andy and Mister Jonesy and yourself. Just between you and me, I think his heart was broken when he left.”
Slim looked down at his hands. “It was my fault.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said matter-of-factly. The abruptness of the statement softened by her crinkled, smiling blue eyes.
Slim’s eyes met hers over the desktop.
“I think that what happened was the result of two very proud, very stubborn men who are very fond of one another but unable to bend.” She continued confidently. “I think that what happened needed to happen. God had three things in mind when he allowed it. He wanted Jess to find out just how much he needed a family and a place to put down roots. He wanted you to find out just how good a friend you had and how much your life would be different without him. “
Slim sat for a minute, then said, “You said there were three things.”
“Yes. Well, the third thing is a bit selfish on my part, but I do believe that Jess was sent to us. We need him and Jess needed us. Now that he is recovering, I’ve asked him to stay on for awhile to help out with a problem that we are having. He has agreed. I hope that does not distress you unduly.”
Slim smiled. “No, ma’am. I’m just glad he’s all right. I wanted to come and ask him to come home, but I have no intention of begging him or forcing him. If he’s needed here…well, I know Jess well enough to know that he ain’t goin’ nowhere until the job is done.”
“I can assure you Mister Sherman, Jess needs you as well, and he wants to come home.”
“He told you that?”
“No, he didn’t have to. It’s as obvious as the nose on your face that he belongs in Laramie. It’s where his heart is. Whether he knows it or not, it’s where his destiny is as well.”
Slim smiled. “You’re a very astute woman, ma’am.”
“Yes I am, Mister Sherman,” her smile was warm, “and don’t you ever forget it.”
“Can I see him?”
Mother rose and bustled around the desk and through the door before Slim had stood and retrieved his hat from the floor.
“Follow me!”
Slim’s long stride easily caught up with the petite woman as she led him through the big building, around children, through galleries and corridors and down a wide set of ancient stone steps.
The lower level was dark and cooler than the floor above. The stone walls looked heavy and thick. There were lamps placed on tables and in nooks along the way, but no amount of lamplight could dispel the innate subterranean feel of the place.
“This was the only space we had for him away from the children. Mind you when we found him, we didn’t know what was wrong and we were afraid he may be contagious.”
“I understand.”
They emerged from the corridor into an expansive kitchen with a large open rotisserie pit in the center and several brick ovens along one wall. It was a kitchen fit for a castle.
Passing through, the Reverend Mother spoke to several nuns and other workers, introducing Slim to a few, but quickly continuing through and out the other side. She stopped by a large door just off the kitchen that was slightly ajar. She peaked around the corner and saw that Jess was sleeping, his back to the door.
“He’s asleep I’m afraid, Mister Sherman. Sister Michael told me earlier that he had over-exerted himself this morning.”
“That’s okay, I’ll sit with him and wait until he wakes up. Thank you very much, ma’am.”
“You’re quite welcome, Mister Sherman and I will expect both you and Jess at our dinner table this evening.” She turned and bustled off down the hall. “We eat at seven!” she threw back over her shoulder as she disappeared into the cavernous kitchen.
When Jess woke in the late afternoon, his head pounded and his vision was blurry. It took a minute to get a fix on his surroundings, but he was immediately aware of someone in the room. He turned over and saw a figure sitting in the chair beside the bed. He blinked several times to get his eyes to cooperate.
“Slim!” He pulled himself up on his elbows.
“Howdy, pard. Thought you were gonna sleep all day.”
Jess lowered himself back down, too weak to stay propped on his elbows.
“How’d you find me?”
“It wasn’t easy. You disappear pretty good,” Slim said with a smile so genuine it made Jess’ breath catch.
Jess lay back and stared at the ceiling, emotions in a turmoil, stomach in a knot. The painful memories were suddenly back like an old wound that opened and began bleeding again.
Leaving Laramie had left an aching black void that nothing so far had come close to filling. His new surroundings; Isabelle and the nuns had distracted him. He had even had days when he only thought of Slim and Andy and Jonesy a few times before someone or something pulled his attention away, but the ache had never left. For the first time in his life, he had felt like home was drawing him back.
One night when he was very sick and feverish, he had dreamed of the little ranch house at the base of the hill. It had been deserted. Jess had walked through the empty rooms that, in his dream looked like the occupants had just stepped away. The oppressive loneliness shook him. He remembered waking up with a jolt and with tears running down his face. He had not slept again that night until the sun was over the horizon.
Jess finally spoke. “Is Andy okay?”
“He misses you,” Slim stated flatly. “We all do, Jess. We want you…”
“I’m sorry, Slim,” Jess interrupted. “I’m really sorry about what happened. I was stubborn and I never should have let it get…”
“Me too, pard. It was all my fault. I was going to tell you that morning, but you’d already gone.”
“I shoulda stayed and talked it out.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
Slim dropped his eyes and sighed. “I know. I was pretty rotten to you. I don’t blame you for wantin’ to go.” He looked up and smiled. “Andy was pretty rough on me. Wouldn’t speak to me for days. Believe me, pard, I paid for that.”
Jess smiled and looked over at his friend. “Good!”
After an instant of shock, the laugh finally burst through. When he spoke again, Slim thought it best to change the subject. “I talked to the Reverend Mother. She said you’re getting’ better.”
Jess shook his head. “Slim, I can’t leave. I’m staying. These people need my help and I owe them.”
“I thought you might say that,” Slim said, without a hint of reproach.
“Did the Reverend Mother tell you the trouble they’re in here?”
“No, not specifically. I’m sure one of you will tell me eventually,” he said ruefully.
Jess had taken on underdog causes before, but none where he felt so exposed and outnumbered. Himself, two old men, twelve nuns and fifty-eight children against a potential army of hired guns. He couldn’t think of a single person he’d rather have at his side than Slim Sherman.
He began telling Slim about Elizondo, and the men who sought to displace a group of nuns and children.
As if reading his thoughts, Slim said, “Don’t worry, pard. We’re not gonna let anything happen to these kids.”
Chapter 24
Scott and Johnny had been able to get out of town without being seen. At least that’s what Scott had hoped. Pearl had helped them with some borrowed horses and back entrances, and she had not even asked any questions. She was proving to be a very valuable ally indeed.
Scott had told Johnny about Pearl’s husband number four. Scott never would have suspected that his brother was capable of blushing, much less that if he could, it would be seen on his tanned face, but he had been wrong.
Johnny kept looking behind him as they rode slowly the seven miles out to the orphanage. Scott was looking around every tree and bush as well. They had decided to leave early, and take a circuitous route just in case Brubaker’s or McCoy’s suspicions were aroused. Johnny was the new guy and as such, had not proved himself yet.
Brubaker and Elizondo had been impressed when McCoy brought Johnny to meet them. They had heard of the legendary Johnny Madrid, of course. Neither had ever met him, though. The first few minutes were awkward. Elizondo had said, “I heard you were dead, senor.”
Johnny had replied with a flippant, “I get that a lot,” but Elizondo did not seem convinced at first. McCoy reassured him that they were acquaintances and he vouched for Johnny’s veracity. Johnny had noticed McCoy’s pointed avoidance of the word “friends”. They were acquaintances. Both worked in the same field of endeavor, and both were very good at their jobs.
Johnny had garnered the more high profile reputation and he was sure that McCoy was not unmoved.
Brubaker had remained silent throughout most of the interview. Johnny had Elizondo pegged as the money-man, the ruthless manipulator and puppet master. Brubaker was the muscle. Whatever needed doing, he would do it using whatever means at his disposal, and from what Johnny could tell, he had plenty at his disposal. He had appraised Johnny silently and thoroughly. Johnny had felt like a prized bull on the block.
What Johnny had failed to mention to his brother was that as he was getting their horses ready to leave for the orphanage, McCoy had cornered him in the livery stable. He had started his evening drinking early and seemed to be having some drunken second thoughts about recommending Johnny to Brubaker.
McCoy’s ego allowed little room for a second rooster in the barnyard. Johnny was the closest thing to a threat to him of all the men hired so far. McCoy seemed to have just realized his own folly at inviting a rival to join the pack. He apparently decided to assert his dominance early and often.
Johnny had not been surprised by him, and in McCoy’s condition could easily have ended the ploy with a well-placed knee, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Letting McCoy have his head for the moment may prove useful later on. McCoy can consider himself the alpha-male all he wanted as long Johnny was able to stick around for the grand finale.
A little name-calling, a little shoving and Johnny was allowed to go on his way, firmly established as the second-banana-and-don’t-you-forget-it.
Scott had to speak to him twice before Johnny shook off his daydreaming and responded. “Huh?”
“I said, penny for your thoughts.”
Johnny took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, then wiped the sweat on his brow with his sleeve. “I was just thinkin’ about Brubaker,” he lied. “He’s one tough hombre and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”
“Then we will endeavor to prevent a circumstance where you would ever be called upon to throw him,” Scott said gravely, with smirk. Johnny had gotten the man’s name right.
Johnny glanced over at him, eyes narrowed. “Smart ass.”
