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Home by Jennifer Tiszai Prologue “Watch out!” Thomas Wilson hauled the man back within a blink of being walloped by the back end of a whipsaw. Thomas released him with a hard look. The man’s gaze drifted to the two-handled saw. A near miss. It was the second one of the day. Thomas shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. This new man had been particularly careless. Maybe he should fire him before he got himself killed. Raised voices carried through the air. He jerked his head up. Commotion brewed between his men. What was it now? “This has conk rot,” a logger yelled from the top of a tree. “It’s no good. Check the others.” Thomas groaned. This day was souring fast, like left-out milk. At this rate, they’d never get the north section cut. “Look out!” He spun to see a log break free of its chains and barrel downhill. Scanning the area, he saw the new man dead center in the path of the runaway log, his back turned to it. Springing into a full sprint, Thomas plowed his shoulder into the man, pain ricocheting through his own body. The man tumbled away from him. Thomas hit the ground hard, his hands hitting the ground a scant second before his chest. He braced his hands and tried to scramble to his feet. Something grabbed him. Panic shot through him as he looked down to see his leg tangled in tree branches the men hadn’t yet cleared. Blood roaring in his ears, he kicked to free himself, but in his gut he knew it was too late. Dear God, Becca . . . was his last thought before all went black. Chapter One Reedsville,
Oregon, 1881 Becca Wilson risked a peek out the stagecoach window. Mere inches, it seemed, of rocky dirt road kept them from plunging into the gorge. Rocks kicked up by the horses’ hooves ricocheted down the precipice and banged into the brush and few scraggly trees that clung to the cliffs. Her heart pounded at the sight. Holding her breath, she squeezed her eyes shut, certain they would plummet from the road. If only they would slow down! The driver, Josh Benson—a family friend for years—seemed determined to descend the mountain at breakneck speed. Swallowing to push her heart back down her throat, Becca opened her eyes and sat back. Another jostle and she gasped, certain that jolt would send them over the edge. Her whitened knuckles gripped the edge of the seat to avoid being tossed against her seatmate. She sent up half-formed prayers and promises to a God she was not sure listened anymore. Maybe I should pray for a quick death. Then I could see Thomas again. And I wouldn’t have to face Seth. A moment later, when they remained on the road, she released her breath. Possibly, they’d make it to Reedsville alive. “This is the worst part,” the woman next to her said, startling Becca out of her thoughts. “It’ll get better in a few minutes and then we’re there. Ever been to Reedsville?” “Yes. It’s my hometown.” The woman studied her more closely. Her pale gray eyes seemed to search Becca’s face. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. I come often to visit my daughter and grandchildren.” Becca resisted the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. “I’ve been away at school for some time.” For a moment, she forgot their perilous journey down the mountain. What would it be like to return to her hometown after four years, with her brother gone? Why hadn’t she come back earlier when he’d asked? Why’d she have to wait until he was dead? She glanced out the window again. Thomas. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him in four years. When his logging business slowed in the winter, he’d often come to spend several weeks with her. But she hadn’t come home once. A picture flashed before her of Thomas tending her scraped knee. They were in the kitchen and she could feel the sting of the wet cloth against the wounded skin. Tears pricked her eyes. She was ten, too old to need Thomas to tend to her scrapes. Too old to be getting scrapes. But Ma wasn’t around anymore to remind her to be a lady. The tears had started that day and wouldn’t stop. Thomas didn’t scold her or tell her she was too old to cry. He just held her until the tears were gone. Becca blinked away the moisture in her eyes. The jarring ride smoothed out and she eased her death grip on the leather. The blood returned to her fingers and her breathing eased. The stage was slowing as it emerged from its downward plunge to a flat road. “What’d I tell you?” Becca turned to look at the woman next to her. “Excuse me?” What had she missed while woolgathering? Smiling, the lady reached over and patted Becca’s knee. “See? We’re nearly there.” She extended her hand to Becca. “I’m Margaret Poole. Thought I ought to introduce myself. “Rebecca Wilson.” She shook Mrs. Poole’s hand, then looked past her. She didn’t want to be rude, but she was anxious to see her town. They had rounded a bend, and the town of Reedsville, Oregon came into view. A quick dash through Main Street and the stagecoach pulled up in front of a white, two-story, clapboard building. Leather and wood groaned as the stagecoach strained to stop. The sensation she was still moving kept Becca pressed into her seat. She watched the dust settle around them. And on them. The skirt of her pale blue traveling suit wore a layer of dust. She brushed at it, but only succeeded in dirtying her gloves. Her first trip home in four years and heaven only knew how she looked. She’d hoped to make a better impression. The university should have given her an air of culture and refinement, but she didn’t feel much different than the girl who’d left here. Sighing, she leaned forward and looked outside. Most way stations were run-down shacks, but Becca knew Maggie Kincaid prided herself on keeping her boarding house and way station looking like a home. While it had never been Becca’s home, it was the closest thing to home she had left. It hadn’t changed much, and the relief at that surprised her. A porch, with a painted swing at one end, wrapped itself around the front of the house. Riotous wildflowers, in every shade of pink from the palest to bright fuchsia, bloomed in stark contrast to the whitewashed building. For a moment, the past overlaid the present, and Becca saw herself standing on those very steps, leaving instead of arriving. Her cheeks burned even now with the memory of what she had done. She could only hope Seth had long forgotten her foolishness, chalking it up to childishness. She leaned forward in her seat to see who waited for the stage, her stomach roiling. She hoped Seth wasn’t there. Mrs. Poole pulled on Becca’s shoulder. “That’s my Sue Ann with the two little ones.” She followed Mrs. Poole’s gaze to a young woman about Becca’s age, one tow-headed baby on her hip and one held by the hand. She idly wondered if that would have been her lot had she stayed in Reedsville. Not regretting her education for one minute, nevertheless, a melancholy seeped in. It would be nice to have a family again. Next to Mrs. Poole’s Sue Ann stood Maggie. Warmth burst through Becca’s heart. She was home. Maggie’s coppery hair was as contrasting as the wildflowers besieging the house. Her kind smile, open and sweet like the little Johnny jump-ups along the walkway, enhanced her motherly appearance. Of course Maggie would be here to meet her. She was the closest thing Becca had to a mother. Becca blinked back tears. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Maggie. The stagecoach door opened. Becca restrained her eagerness as Josh helped the other passengers disembark then reached for Becca’s arm. As she half-stood to take his arm, her stiff muscles almost pulled her back in her seat. Hiding her grimace, she forced herself to climb down. Josh held her steady for a moment until she balanced herself, giving her hand a quick squeeze before releasing her. Mrs. Poole said something about coming to call and hurried over to her daughter. Before Becca could climb the porch steps, Maggie flew down them and pulled her into her arms. “Oh, my girl! We’ve missed you so much!” Becca let the breath be squeezed out of her. She didn’t mind. Maggie held Becca back from her, inspecting her from head to toe. “Well you’re not a girl anymore, that’s certain. Such a stylish young lady!” She put her arm around Becca’s shoulders and led her up the porch steps. “I’m truly glad you’re back, although I wish it were under better circumstances. How long can you stay? Are you back for good?” Becca listened to the questions pummeling her like the dust on the stage. She just wanted to enjoy being home for the moment, and to not think about the future. She looked up as she climbed the last step, her mind focused on the doorway. Was Maggie the only member of her welcoming party? There, coming out the front door, was Seth. His face, bronzed by the sun, had more prominent cheekbones and a stronger jaw line than she remembered. But he still had his bright blue eyes and dark brown hair that fell boyishly across his forehead. As if he could read her thoughts, he pushed the hair back from his brow. “Uh, I’m—” What had Maggie asked? She stood frozen, not wanting to take one step closer to Seth. She should have know he would be here, and yet, she didn’t feel prepared to see him again. Maggie glanced up. “Oh, Seth, you made it.” “I got away from the logging camp for awhile. Becca, it’s good to see you again. How are you?” His deep voice washed over her, unburying old memories. Pain squeezed her chest and she almost gasped with the intensity. She closed her eyes for a moment, then pushed the thoughts away. She forced herself to look at Seth, willing away the uncomfortable warmth flooding her cheeks. His gaze remained fixed on her face, but sadness clouded his eyes. He smiled at her, with some effort, it seemed. She gave him a half-smile in return and took a breath. “I’m well. It’s good to be back.” As she said the words, she realized it was true. The dread she felt at returning to her hometown still remained, but it wasn’t quite as bad as she had expected. And it did feel like, well, home. She felt some comfort in that. “You’re staying for supper, Seth.” Maggie clearly made a statement, not a request. She shot a look over her shoulder to where Josh had just finished unloading the luggage. “You, too, Josh.” “Soon as I get the horses and stage put away,” he replied, climbing back in the driver’s seat. Seth backed through the door, holding it open as Maggie ushered Becca in. Please say no, she pleaded. She’d forgotten how blue his eyes were. She couldn’t imagine sitting across the supper table from him. Not with the way she’d left him. “I’d love to. Never miss a chance to have one of your meals, Maggie.” She stifled a sigh. This day was going to be longer than she thought. ***
Seth splashed water on his face,
hoping to wake up. He must be dreaming. The beautiful young woman
Maggie
brought into her house bore very little resemblance to the awkward,
gangly girl
who left here. Becca had stepped off the stage, clothes dusty and wrinkled, and no light in her green eyes. But then the sunlight hit her hair, making it gleam like polished gold, and he found himself fascinated by her smooth skin and full lips. He hadn’t even recognized her! The old daguerreotype photograph on Thomas’s desk at the logging camp didn’t do her justice. Stunned, he wondered what happened to the girl he’d once called his Lil Sis. She had been such a sweet girl, even if a pain sometimes. She’d beg to go on adventures with Thomas and him, and usually he was the one to give in. Since he’d been an only child, and without a mother, Becca was little more than a nuisance when he wanted to play with Thomas. Yet he still longed to have a little sister like her, to look after and annoy him. She had braids, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, and was all elbows and knees, determined to keep up with the boys. Running the linen cloth over his face, he grinned as he remembered Becca throwing herself in his arms, whispering she loved him. She’d spun around and jumped on the stage without hearing his reply, “I love you, too, Lil Sis.” He’d repeated that scene several times in his mind since she left, touched she’d thought of him as another big brother. Too bad she’d gone off to the university. He’d have liked the opportunity to play big brother, glaring at boys too interested in her. Now he was all she had left. Her real brother was dead, a fact Seth still couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around. He shook his head as if to clear the thought. He had to look after her; Thomas would have expected it. He tossed the towel on the hook and headed into the dining room—to a woman he didn’t know and a responsibility he didn’t know how to fulfill. |