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  “I reckon you’re right. I can’t take Mama out there, though. And the girls…When it comes time for gentlemen to call on them, I want them to have good men to choose from, not those yahoos we saw in Woody Draw who spend their Saturday nights dallying with the ladies who live above the saloon.”

  “I know. It was just a thought.”

  Fortunately, Mama came out just then. Papa helped her into the hansom cab, then got in himself. George climbed into the driver’s box and snapped the reins on Outlaw’s rump. The gelding turned his head and gave him an affronted look, and George grinned, although he regretted his irritability.

  “Git up, Outlaw.”

  Outlaw set off at a brisk trot.

  He was being foolish. Bart would find someone and get married, and George would find a way to get back to the valley. When Papa returned from the War, they wouldn’t really need George.

  And he could always come back to visit.

  Chapter 25

  George was sitting cross-legged on the parlor floor, helping Charlie stack the blocks he’d given her for her first birthday. It had been pretty much a coin toss back then whether she would try to eat them or throw them at someone’s head, but now she actually did a good job building houses.

  Noelle was in the kitchen with Mrs. Hall. She’d be five in a few weeks, but already she was learning how to cook, which was a good thing, because as much as he loved Mama, the only thing she could do—as she said herself—was burn water.

  The front door opened, and Mama and Papa came into the house.

  They both looked giddy and starry-eyed, and George ducked his head and grinned. He figured a honeymoon was a good thing he might enjoy himself one day. His thoughts drifted to Bart, and he shook his head. Then again, no.

  Mama took off her coat and bonnet and hung them up while Papa brought the valise to their bedroom. He returned to the parlor after a few minutes.

  “I think I’ll take a nap.” Mama blushed a little when Papa smiled at her.

  In spite of that smile, George could tell something was bothering him.

  But then Papa took her hand, turned it over, and kissed her wrist, and George was lost in the sweet magic of that moment. Mama held her hand to her breast, her blush even deeper, and leaned against him for a moment, then straightened and went to the bedroom, smiling at Papa over her shoulder.

  George would have to remember that. If he caressed Bart’s wrist like that, would Bart react in the same way?

  Papa glanced at George.

  Oh, no. Had he been able to read George’s mind? Lately he found himself thinking more and more about Bart in that manner.

  He sighed. He’d have to stop it—no honeymoons, no kisses for him. He knew Bart wouldn’t knock him down if he did something like that, but he didn’t want to chance losing Bart’s friendship.

  “Do you need to go to work, George?” Papa asked.

  “No. Mr. Hudson told me to take the next few days off.”

  “Good. Let’s go for a ride.”

  “Okay.” George figured Papa wanted to see how Bella and Salida were coming along under his care and tutelage. He rose to his feet.

  “Want to come with us, Charlotte?” Papa asked the little girl.

  Charlie was still sitting on the floor. She looked up at Papa, then folded herself in two and began to wail.

  Mama came out of the bedroom, brushing hair out of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I reckon Charlotte doesn’t want to come with us.”

  The wailing continued until Mama picked her up, and then it dissolved into a series of hiccups. “It’s all right, pequeña. She’s probably just tired. I’ll take her to bed with me.”

  Papa nodded, but he looked unhappy.

  “Mama’s right, Papa. Charlie hasn’t had her nap.”

  Papa didn’t look reassured, but he hadn’t lived with the baby of the family for the past three years. It would take a while for her to get used to him, time they really didn’t have now.

  George rubbed his arm, then put on his coat and hat and led the way through the kitchen and out the door.

  “She doesn’t know me. Even Noelle doesn’t remember me very much.”

  “This damned war.” He bit his lip, waiting for Papa to scold him for swearing, but Papa just strode into the stable. George knew Papa was upset when he didn’t chide George for his language. “The war will be over soon, won’t it?”

  “I hope so. Both sides are war weary, but the South can’t go on for much longer. They just don’t have the supplies.”

  Damned war.

  And it might be time to change the subject. “How’s Sunrise, Papa?” he asked as they saddled the horses.

  “She’s getting on in years, son. I’ve been on the lookout for another horse, although I haven’t been able to find one who matches her. I don’t want to take a chance she won’t make it through this war. I left her in the care of a friend. I should have brought her home.” Papa looked worn down.

  George felt cold. Sunrise was over twenty years old now. She’d been Papa’s horse since she’d been foaled—Uncle Guillermo had given her to Papa. Being ridden into one battle after another had to be hard on her.

  “Will you take Bella when you go back?” Even though the mare was Mama’s horse, she was capable of carrying Papa’s weight.

  “No. She’s too high-strung to make a good mount to ride into battle.”

  Papa took Bella’s reins and stepped into the saddle, while George mounted Salida, and they rode out of the stable.

  “All right, son. Let me see what you’ve done with Salida.”

  George put her through her paces, and Papa nodded in approval.

  “Good work,” he said when George was finished, and George had never felt so proud. He’d worked hard with Salida, and he was pleased it had paid off.

  He swallowed. “Will you take Salida with you when you rejoin your regiment?”

  “What?” That seemed to have surprised him. “No, I wouldn’t do that. But…if you need to sell her, you’ll get a pretty penny, more than you’d get for Bella.”

  “S-sell her?” George gripped Salida’s mane.

  Papa headed out into the street, and George nudged Salida’s sides with his heels and followed.

  “I wanted to have this talk away from your mama.”

  He bit his upper lip. “Yes?”

  “When she and I were at the Bonheur, I noticed she wasn’t wearing the string of pearls her mama had given her. She told me she’d left it at home, since she didn’t usually wear it.”

  “She…she doesn’t. Why would she, when she’s not a rich man’s daughter anymore.” George’s mouth went dry. “I’m sorry.” That hadn’t come out the way he’d intended.

  “No.” Papa looked over at him, his lips in a grim line. “She’s a poor man’s wife.”

  “Papa—”

  “It’s the truth. I don’t blame you, son. I looked in her trinket box earlier. None of her jewels were in it.” Papa pulled Bella to a halt. “She told me you’re working for Hudson. What I want to know is, why? And what happened to her jewels, George?”

  He opened his mouth, then shut it when Papa frowned at him.

  “The truth, George.”

  “I took them to a pawnbroker. Mr. Abbott sold the cottage. The new owner raised the rent and insisted we pay each quarter.”

  “And the money I send isn’t enough.”

  “It helps, but the new landlord keeps raising the rent.”

  “Your mother’s brooch?”

  George knew he meant the ruby Papa had given his birth mother when he was born. He looked away before he shook his head. “Mama wanted me to hold onto it, but…I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You did what you had to do. What about the locket?”

  George closed his hand over where it rested beneath his shirt. “I would have, but Mr. Feinstein would only take the gold chain. He said he’d get more for it than for the locket.”

  When Bart had learned of what George
had done, he’d scolded him and then bought a simple silver chain to replace it.

  “Papa. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay here.” He was glad to finally have someone he could talk to about this. He hadn’t wanted to tell Mama, and even if Bart or Frank wanted to help, what could they do?

  “I’m sorry, son. You’re right. This damned war.” He looked off in the distance. “With luck it won’t last much longer.”

  “And you’ll finally be home.”

  “Yes. I’ll finally be home.”

  * * * *

  Four days later, Papa’s time with them had drawn to a close, and George harnessed Outlaw to a buggy. The whole family was going to accompany Papa to the train depot.

  When they arrived, Papa swung Noelle in his arms, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. “So pretty, my little Christmas angel.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered something in his ear. He kissed her again and set her down.

  Charlie had grown used to him, and she let him pick her up. “Papa go bye-bye?”

  “Papa go bye-bye, pequeña,” he agreed. “George.”

  “Stay safe, Papa.” He handed him a sugar cube. “For Sunrise.” He felt a burning behind his eyes as he thrust out his hand.

  Papa took it, then pulled him into a one-armed hug. “I love you, son.”

  George knew he was going to start crying, so he gave a jerky nod and took Charlie so Papa could say a proper goodbye to Mama.

  And then Papa was on the train, leaning out the window, waving his hat in farewell.

  Chapter 26

  Two months later, on George’s seventeenth birthday, Mama told him she was expecting a baby, and he danced her around the room.

  “I’m getting better at being able to tell,” she said, grinning happily “I wrote Papa this morning.”

  “When will he arrive?”

  “Who?”

  “The baby.”

  “You don’t think this baby will be another girl?”

  George shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed right.”

  “Sometime in August, I should think.”

  “Maybe Papa can get another furlough, if the war hasn’t ended by then.”

  “Yes.” Mama smiled at him, and suddenly he thought of his first mother. He couldn’t remember much about her, and he wondered if she had ever smiled at him like that.

  Not that it mattered. This woman who Papa had married six years before was the mother he’d always longed for.

  * * * *

  “Let’s go for a ride, shall we?” Mama suggested one day. “The weather is beautiful today.”

  The weather had been chilly and damp for the past few weeks, but now it seemed that March was indeed going out like a lamb.

  “Do you feel well enough?” It had been a couple of months since she’d stopped being sick in the mornings, but he knew some women could lose the babies they carried under their hearts. He remembered Mora, the little sister who was buried on the rancho.

  “I do.”

  “All right then. I’ll saddle the horses.”

  “May we come too?” Noelle asked. She was the spitting image of Mama except for the small star-shaped birthmark on her wrist.

  “Of course,” Mama said. Mrs. Hall came to visit for a little while most days, but she hadn’t that day. “Get your coat and hat and boots. I’ll make sure your sister is warmly dressed.”

  Charlie bounced up and down and clapped her hands, while Noelle waited patiently. She acted the perfect little lady, but when Mama wasn’t looking, George taught her how to fight dirty, just in case.

  He handed Noelle her coat and hat and pulled his own coat off its hook.

  “Wait for Mama and Charlie, okay?” He thrust his arms into the sleeves and hurried out the kitchen door.

  It didn’t take him long to have the horses saddled, and he brought them around to the front door. Mama and the girls were just coming out of the house.

  Under Papa’s careful training, and in spite of being so high-strung, Bella had proved to be an excellent mount. Still, with Mama expecting a baby, George had put the side saddle on Salida.

  He helped Mama into the saddle carefully, waited while she hooked her knee over the pommel, then gave her the reins. “Who wants to ride with Mama?”

  “Me, me!” Charlie bounced up and down.

  “Okay, pequeña.” He caught her under the arms and eased her onto the saddle before Mama. Once they were settled, he turned to Noelle. “It looks like you’re riding with me, Christmas angel.”

  “Do I get to hold the reins?”

  “Of course!” He pretended to be shocked that she’d even ask such a question, and she giggled and jumped into his arms. “Don’t tug on them, though. You don’t want to hurt Bella’s mouth.”

  “I won’t, I promise.”

  George swung her so she sat sideways on Bella’s back, then mounted behind her.

  “I’d like to visit Mrs. Thompson, George.”

  “Okay.” He headed Bella in that direction, and Salida walked along sedately beside her.

  They were a few streets from home when Mama cried out. “Lewis?”

  A man riding a bay looked over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised, disdain in his glance.

  “Mama?”

  “It’s my brother.”

  The man’s haughty expression abruptly changed to surprise. “Olivia? Is it really you?”

  “Yes! Oh, I’m so pleased to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Livy.”

  “Livy. No one has called me that in ages.”

  “You’ll always be my little sister.” He examined her, sitting on Salida with Charlie on her lap, and though he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve learned to ride, in spite of Father’s objections.”

  “My husband taught me.”

  “Papa had no objection,” George said in a cool tone. He did not like this man.

  “And you don’t carry riding crops?”

  “No.” George knew his voice was frigid now. Their horses were so well-behaved they had no need for them.

  Mama reached over and tugged his sleeve. “It’s all right.” Her words were so quiet he didn’t think her brother could hear them. She smiled at her brother. “How are you, Lewis?”

  “I’m well enough. Married now, with another brat on the way.”

  “Congratulations. Another child, you say? How many will that be?”

  “Four. All girls. With any luck my wife will finally give me a son.”

  “I see. Do I know your wife?”

  “That’s hardly likely. Her status is slightly higher than ours.”

  Mama raised an eyebrow, and her brother gave a reluctant laugh.

  “She used to be Eloise Moreland.”

  Mama raised both eyebrows. “I’d say her status is more than slightly higher than ours. She was an heiress.”

  “Yes, but it was a love match.”

  “Father must have been overjoyed. And speaking of Father…How is he?”

  “As stubborn as ever, but…He’s getting on, you know.”

  “No. How would I know when I haven’t been home in six years?”

  He shrugged. “You could have—”

  “I read about Aunt Hester passing,” she interrupted, and a brief flash of irritation darkened his washed-out blue eyes. Mama continued blandly. “I was sorry not to go to the service, but I didn’t think Father would approve of me being there.”

  He didn’t respond to that. Instead he glanced at the girls and asked, “And who are these lovely little ladies?”

  “My daughters, Noelle and Charlotte.” Mama gave them a fond smile, which she then directed at George. “And this is my son, George.”

  He blushed with pleasure.

  “This is your Uncle Lewis, children.”

  “How do you do, Uncle Lewis,” Noelle said. Charlie stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at him over her folded fingers.

  George nudged Bella’s sides with his
heels, about to extend his hand. He knew how to be polite, even if Mama’s brother didn’t.

  “Your son? Really, Olivia. Remember, I know when you were born.” His smile was arch, but his gaze seemed hungry when he raked it over George.

  Without meaning to, George tightened his grip on the reins, bringing Bella to a halt. For the first time in his life, he felt besmirched.

  “He’s the son of my heart,” Mama murmured, obviously unaware of how her brother was regarding George.

  “Indeed.” St. Claire’s horse shifted and stamped a restless hoof.

  St. Claire made no effort to conceal the hard yank he gave the reins, but even if the horse hadn’t made a distressed sound, George would have noticed it anyway. The horse reacted nervously, dancing in place and shaking his head, to St. Claire’s obvious displeasure. He hit the gelding over the head with his crop.

  “Stupid horse.”

  “Hit him again, and I’ll take that crop to you,” George said.

  St. Claire glowered at him. “This is nothing but a rented hack.”

  “He still deserves better treatment than you’re giving him.”

  The look in St. Claire’s eyes was furious, but he quickly masked it. He turned back to Mama. “Where did you rent such fine-looking animals? I’ll have to patronize your stable.”

  “They’re ours.”

  “Indeed,” he said again. “Perhaps you’d care to sell them. It’s very expensive keeping one horse, much less two.”

  “No,” George said flatly.

  St. Claire opened his mouth, but Mama said, “The horses aren’t for sale, Lewis.”

  “Humph.” He dismissed the horses and turned his gaze on Noelle. “She looks familiar.”

  “She should, since she’s my daughter.” Mama’s voice had become as cool as her brother’s.

  George had his arm around his sister’s waist, holding her in place before him, and he could feel her trembling. “I’m sorry, Mama. We can’t keep the horses standing. We have to go.” George smiled apologetically at the man. In his heart, there wasn’t an ounce of apology in his expression, but George was certain Lewis St. Claire wasn’t aware of it.

  St. Claire raised a mocking eyebrow, but Mama spoke before he could.

  “Yes, Georgie. It was nice seeing you again, Lewis.”