The Renegade's Redemption. Stacy Henrie
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If she could fulfill Grandfather’s wishes in these last plans he’d made before his death, then perhaps she could finally feel she had done enough to atone for nearly turning her back on him and the farm all those years ago.
Wiping the back of her hand at the useless moisture in her eyes, she shifted her gaze beyond the barn to the unfinished structure that sat there. Her grandfather, a skilled craftsman as well as farmer, had framed the outer walls of the ground floor. But his death had robbed the incomplete edifice of its talented creator, leaving the posts to look like leafless trees eyeing the distant sky.
How was she to provide a home for four more children without a bigger house? How could she feed and clothe the children she already had if a large portion of her money went to hiring workers? And that was if she could find someone to hire who’d be willing to stay until the plowing and planting were done. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.
Even with the help of thirteen-year-old Jacob, the oldest of the orphans currently living at the farm, the two of them couldn’t finish the plowing and planting on time. She needed an able-bodied man willing to work for little wages. One skilled in house building as well as farming would be even better. It was a rather tall order.
Movement by the barn drew her attention. Nine-year-old Mark and his seven-year-old brother, Luke, peered around the corner. No doubt they were the owners of the offending snake Mr. Grady had been complaining about. “Mark, Luke, come here, please.”
The towheaded boys walked toward her, their chins dipped low to their chests. Sure enough, Mark carried a snake in his hand.
Though two years separated their ages, they looked as if they could be twins with their matching blond hair and brown eyes. They reminded her of a set of twins she’d known growing up—Tex and Tate Beckett. Even just the memory of the Beckett brothers caused a physical ache to lodge in her chest, especially any thought connected to Tex. He was the man she’d loved fully and agreed to elope with eight years earlier. Only Tex never came for her.
Which was good, she reminded herself. He’d saved her from making the two biggest mistakes of her life—leaving her grandfather behind and trusting Tex with her heart.
Pushing aside the painful recollections, she waited for the boys to shuffle to a stop in front of her. A shiver passed through her at seeing their reptile up close. She feared snakes every bit as much as the horses did. “Do you remember what I’ve told you, boys, about bringing snakes around the horses?”
Mark shot her a sad look. “We ain’t supposed to do that.”
“Aren’t supposed to do that,” she gently corrected. It was her duty to raise these children up right, and she would do it. A visit to their teacher might be in order to stress the importance of grammar and proper speech now that school was in session again.
“But it’s a real beaut, Miss Ravena.” Mark grinned, his sorrow forgotten, as he held the snake aloft.
Ravena scooted back against the porch column, eager to put distance between herself and the slithering creature. “Be that as it may, the rule still stands. As does the consequence. You, boys, will need to take over mucking the stalls for Jacob this week.”
Mark and Luke exchanged pained glances.
“And,” Ravena added, “if Mr. Grady were still here, you would need to apologize to him.”
“Mr. Grady left?” Luke asked, his tone a mixture of regret and curiosity.
“Yes, he’s left. Now please take that thing and release it somewhere beyond the fields.”
Mark frowned and eyed the snake dangling from his fingers. “Do we have to?”
Standing, Ravena fought an audible groan. “Yes,” she intoned firmly.
They started to walk away, their heads low with dejection once more, then Mark turned around. Luke did the same. “If Mr. Grady’s gone then how are we gonna...” Mark smiled sheepishly. “I mean going to do spring planting without any help? Can we still get those new brothers you told us about?”
Fresh apprehension washed through Ravena at hearing her own unanswered questions posed back to her. “We’ll figure it out, Mark. All of it. About the planting and bringing those new brothers to the farm.”
Satisfied, the boys scampered off. Thankfully they didn’t see the droop to her shoulders or hear the heavy sigh that escaped her lips as she picked up her dish towel from off the rocker.
“Let my words be true, Lord,” she prayed as she entered the house. “Please let them be true.”
* * *
He might die. Right here on the front step of his childhood home. Gripping his side, Tex managed to haul himself off the new horse he’d bought from a livery in Boise that morning. How he’d survived his escape from Casper, the train journey west to Idaho, and the thirty-mile horse ride north from Boise to his hometown was beyond him. Some might say he’d had help from above, but Tex scoffed at the idea. He and God were as distant as he and his brother.
Or at least as distant as he and his brother had been. That was about to change when he came face-to-face with Tate again today.
Apprehension battled with the pain in Tex’s gut as he stumbled toward the door. Would Tate take one look at him and throw him out? Tex couldn’t say he’d blame Tate if he did. He’d probably do the same if their roles were reversed, given the way things had ended between them. His excessively serious brother, older by five minutes, might say Tex had gotten what he deserved. Tate might even call the law on him.
The thought sent a shudder of dread through Tex and had him tugging the brim of his hat lower. He nearly turned around...but he didn’t know where else to go. If there was any chance of shelter to be found here, he had to try.
“Can I help you?” a man asked as he exited the nearby barn. He had a few years on Tex’s twenty-nine.
“I’m looking for...” Tex swallowed. It was a struggle to say his brother’s name for the first time in years. “Is Tate Beckett around?” Perhaps this man was a hired hand.
But the man shook his head. “Sorry. Beckett doesn’t live here anymore. He sold me the place eight years ago. Said he was leaving the area for good.”
Tate wasn’t here? Tex sagged against the porch railing in disbelief. This was a possibility he’d never even considered. His brother had loved this land. While Tex had tolerated farm work, Tate had loved it, even when they were young. Why would he up and leave a place and an occupation he’d prized? And where had he gone?
“You all right?” The man peered hard at Tex. “You a relative of Beckett’s?”
He didn’t need anyone recognizing him—not as Tate’s twin and certainly not as the Texas Titan. “Much obliged for the information, mister.”
Mounting his horse left him sweating, despite the pleasant afternoon, and aggravated his wound even more. The makeshift bandage beneath his new set of clothes would likely be bloodied again. With great effort, he kept himself in the saddle and turned his horse.
Where should he go now? The question had barely entered his head when he found himself guiding the horse away from the road toward the shortcut between his old home and the next farm over.
He’d go to Ravena’s; she’d likely still be there. If anyone loved this place more than his twin brother, it was Ravena Reid.
A feeling of dread and anticipation pushed through Tex’s cloud of pain at the thought of seeing her again. It was quickly followed by a surge of memories, most prominent being the afternoon, eight years ago, when he’d last seen and spoken with her. They’d planned to run away together that night—had arranged for him to come and fetch her. But his brother had caught Tex as he was leaving. After that horrible fight, with Tate accusing him of ruining Ravena’s life, Tex had run off alone, without a word to the girl he’d planned to marry.
He’d thought he’d never see her again, had