Heart Shelf
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The woman’s heart beat a little faster as she looked back to see the door closing. “I’ve got to go,” she told him. He nodded but didn’t move right away and for some reason that bothered her. It seemed like he was waiting on something—maybe for her to make another excuse or apologize about yesterday. What had made it so hard for her to say goodbye?
He finally reached into his pocket and withdrew two small pieces of paper. “These are for you.” They were letters from John and Jane. The thought of reading them made her throat feel tight again, but she wanted to know what they said, so she accepted them.
She held them in one hand as she watched him walk toward the front entrance. He paused long enough to glance over his shoulder at her before walking out the door. As soon as he left, her fingers went numb around the papers.
How could she possibly read these letters with such emotion? But she did anyway; slowly and methodically until the last word was gone. When she’d finished, she dropped the letters on the desk and turned to look around her room once more.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she would be staying there. If the housekeeper had known who she was when she first arrived, would this all have happened differently? Would she have been welcomed with open arms instead of having the run of the place?
A few moments later, she heard a horse whinny outside. There was no mistaking that sound—that deep voice that sounded like nothing else on earth. Her heart jumped into her throat as she raced down the stairs, through the front hall, and out onto the front porch. A black bay waited patiently under the portico for her.
“Goodbye, Mr. Harper,” she whispered softly as she ran her hands along his neck. Then she stepped down off the porch and mounted up. The black mare trotted quickly across the grass, then stopped to graze. The man behind the wheel of the big rig followed her.
For a moment she considered calling him back. No matter how she felt about him, he wasn’t the only person she loved, and she owed it to those people to stay alive and free to visit. But when he pulled to a stop, he didn’t ask if she wanted a ride, and it suddenly occurred to her that she would never see him again.
She leaned down to pat the horse’s nose and whispered, “Thank you.”
The bay nickered softly as he moved closer to her and nudged her gently with his nose. She hugged him tightly to herself and rode away.
When the truck pulled into town, Susanne took a moment to let the tears fall freely. Now it was time to face reality. For the moment she was safe. But she knew that wouldn’t always be true, and she had to prepare for life after the Harper home. After all, she hadn’t come here to hide forever.
She came to take down the evil men who’d ruined so many lives. With Harper’s name now attached to hers, she would be protected by some. And she would work harder than ever to find evidence against the men who abused their power. She’d done it before, and she’d do it again.
Just remember this feeling, Susanne. You’ll need it when you’re in prison or even death. Don’t forget your friends, either; don’t forget how they helped you. But most important: Do not forget to protect yourself. Always know where the exit is and what’s going to happen when you get there.
As she walked into town, she realized just how much had changed since she first arrived. Most of the buildings had been repainted, and almost every shop seemed new and different. But there were still plenty of colors around; red and pink and green—all bright shades of spring.
In fact, the entire area smelled like flowers. Even the people of the town wore brighter colors, and she saw several women with long dresses and parasols walking down the street.
The sight reminded her of how much better things could be if it weren’t for people who used religion as an excuse to hate others, but then that was why God gave us free will. Some would choose good; some would choose badly. That was a simple truth.
Susanne’s eyes fell on a sign for a new bakery. As the door opened and she passed inside, her nose was assaulted by sweet aromas. She smiled as she ordered a cinnamon roll and a glass of lemonade.
It might be her first meal of the day, but it would also be her last—at least for a while. She paid cash and took both to a table in the corner of the shop near a window that overlooked the streets. The morning sun cast golden light on the sidewalks, and a group of children played tag along the street.
They looked so carefree and happy, she had to wonder if they were really aware of everything that was going on in the world.
“You can eat in peace now,” she said aloud as she picked up the silver fork and tasted the cake. She took another bite and found the sweetness so delicious, she didn’t bother asking why it was forbidden. Instead, she thought about what she had planned for the day, and she smiled.
Everything was falling into place. The letter from Harper had confirmed what she suspected all along: He wasn’t interested in marrying her. His reasons made sense, given what happened between them the night before. But the fact remained that he was still in love with her.
Maybe someday he would realize that. If God had meant for her to marry Harper, she would have met him at the train station when she left Philadelphia. And if there was any justice in the world, she would find out soon enough if fate was finally moving her toward marriage to a certain handsome rancher named John Harper.
***
Susanne sat on a wooden bench in the middle of a small grove of trees that grew in the field next to the ranch house. The morning sun cast its golden glow over the land and filled the air with a sweet, spicy scent. A soft breeze ruffled her hair, which hung down over her shoulders and covered her bare legs.
Her white dress clung closely to her body and left nothing to her imagination. But the thin material offered no protection against the sharp blades of grass poking through it. The day promised to be warm, and the wind was already starting to feel like sandpaper on her skin.
After riding for hours yesterday, she slept well until late morning, and she had spent much of the time since then searching for clues among the piles of papers scattered across the front room. At one point she heard a noise that sounded like a man’s laugh coming from outside.
Then a voice that wasn’t John’s called for Mary. The two voices faded quickly, and she assumed someone was out working on the barn or something else on the property. By noon she found a note pinned to the door saying that John would meet her in the library after lunch. So far, no one had mentioned any plans to visit with family or friends.
She’d spent the afternoon going through stacks of books, newspapers, and other documents that had piled up over the years. It was hard work, but she did get a little relief from the constant ache in her leg. When the pain became too intense, she tried to focus on the task at hand, rather than think about how miserable her life was becoming.
But thinking about John and his relationship with God made her angry. She wanted nothing more than to tell him what he believed wasn’t true. Why couldn’t he see that God could use anyone; that it was foolish not to trust in Him?
What good was it to say you loved Him if you chose to live your life apart from His will? And what kind of a god would demand that His people remain silent when they witnessed injustices being committed in the world? She thought back to her own journey, the way God had guided her steps all the way to Denver.
If she hadn’t met Reverend Roper and followed his advice, she wouldn’t be here right now. And although the preacher preached about speaking up against wrong, he was just as guilty as everyone else who kept their mouths shut.
“I need an answer,” she whispered. “What am I supposed to do?”
The sun continued to beat down, and Susanne stood up and stretched. Time was running out. In only a few days, the sheriff would arrive at the ranch, and once again her life would turn upside down. All because of her stubborn refusal to give up on the man she loved. How much longer did God want to test her faith? Would things go differently if she married John instead of Harper?
A movement near the fence caught her attention, and she stepped closer to the edge of the yard. A woman dressed in a long-sleeved, black dress and a wide-brimmed hat was walking toward the barn, and Susanne watched her stop and pick up a handful of grass.
The wind blew her hair behind her, and she looked like an angel sent by God. Was this the same person who came to John’s church in Philadelphia last month? The one he refused to invite to dinner after she challenged him on his faith? Susanne waited patiently as the woman walked away from the barn, and then hurried inside, determined to find out who the mysterious stranger was.
When she returned with a plate of food, the woman was gone. There were no footprints around the yard and no sign of any horse, which was strange since there usually was one nearby. As she ate the sandwich and chips, Susanne studied every detail of the place, trying to remember everything about it for future reference.
No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t make sense of what happened that afternoon. Where did the woman go? Had she seen something that would help her case? Or was it a coincidence that a visitor appeared so soon after she arrived?
By supper time, her leg hurt more than ever, and even though John was waiting for her, Susanne couldn’t stand to face him. Instead, she went to her room, took off her shoes, and tried to stretch out her cramped muscles. She didn’t know how much longer she could continue working on her own. Maybe it was best to accept John’s proposal before she gave up. That way they’d have peace for a while.
Susanne lay on the bed, listening to the sounds of men working outside, hoping the woman would return tonight. After several hours of restless sleep, she woke up to find darkness had fallen, and she was still alone. The next night was no different.
But when she finally fell asleep at daybreak, she dreamed that God had visited her in her dreams. He told her that he was watching over her and that if she followed His guidance, she would eventually achieve her goal. When she awoke, she found herself crying in her bed.
It was late morning, and it was hard to believe that just three short weeks ago, she was in Philadelphia visiting with John. The dream she’d had that awful night haunted her. Did it mean God was guiding her in some way? Or was it simply wishful thinking? Either way, she knew she must keep moving forward.
“Where’s John?” she asked Mrs. Davis.
“In the barn, milking.”
Susanne went to the kitchen where she helped cook the meal before returning to the barn to watch John milk the cow. She’d done enough chores for a lifetime, but there was always something new she had to learn, and she did her best to pay attention while John talked about how he got his start in the dairy business.
He seemed proud of his accomplishments and happy that he’d been able to buy the ranch. At first, Susanne thought he might be lonely living all by himself, and when she mentioned this to him, his expression grew sad.
“You think I’m a loner?” he said with a smile. “Hardly. Just look around. My cows are happier than most people’s children.”
As he finished feeding the animals and returned to the house, Susanne went back to her room to study the map and make another list of places she would visit. Her leg hurt worse than ever, and her shoulder ached as well.
The next morning, she went out to the barn, expecting to find a fresh supply of painkillers in the medicine chest. To her dismay, the bottle was missing, and there wasn’t a single pill left in the box. What was going on? Why would John take them without telling her?
She made herself walk over to the barn and stopped in front of the large wooden door. If the medicine wasn’t there, perhaps John wouldn’t mind if she borrowed some from his doctor. It was possible his family hadn’t yet heard the news about their son’s death, and she needed to tell them before they read about it in the newspapers.
But why didn’t anyone answer when she called his name? As she listened for voices, someone pounded on the outside wall, and Susanne hurried away from the barn.
When she got to the house, she opened the door and stepped inside. The smell of wood smoke and cooking filled the air. As usual, there was no sign of life anywhere, and she stood there for a moment trying to figure out what to do next.
Then the sound of horses’ hooves pounding against the ground brought her back to reality. She ran to the front porch and watched as the riders galloped past. They weren’t headed toward the ranch; they were riding in the opposite direction. Susanne looked down at her watch and realized she was standing on the porch long enough to lose track of time.
The sun shone brightly overhead when she left the ranch again. With the map tucked under her arm, she set out for the nearest town, not sure how long it would be before John returned home. She walked slowly and kept an eye out for anyone else who might show up unexpectedly.
When she reached the edge of town, she found a saloon and went inside, taking a seat at the bar where she ordered coffee, a plate of bacon and eggs, and a piece of the pie.
The bartender glanced up, and his eyes met hers in surprise. “What happened to you?”
She shrugged and tried to smile. “I don’t look any different,” she said, wishing her words sounded more convincing.
He leaned close to her ear so she could hear him better. “You know what happened?” he whispered. “John’s dead.”
“Dead!” She couldn’t believe it. How could John have died in such a horrible accident? He’d barely begun to live his own life, and now he was gone forever. Susanne felt a lump rising in her throat as she stared across the bar. A woman sitting beside a man wore a worried expression.
The man placed his hand on his companion’s knee and nodded toward the door. Susanne watched the woman leave and wondered why John’s family hadn’t come to town or made other arrangements to bury him.
She waited until the bartender poured her coffee, then paid for everything on the counter. As soon as she left, she went out to the stable, hoping to find a horse to ride into town.
No one rode through the gate except her, and she had to walk all the way to the end of the driveway where she found a bay mare that had a few old battle scars, including a scarred right ear and a missing foreleg. She brushed the animal off, saddled it with help from another rider who came to give her directions and mounted up.
As soon as she was back in the saddle, she pulled away from the ranch. On impulse, she veered off the main road and headed straight for the cemetery instead of stopping to see if John’s family wanted any of his possessions. There was something unsettling about the place, especially since the graves seemed out of place in this peaceful area.
The headstone that marked John’s grave was simple, with only a short inscription, but it gave Susanne pause to read: “John Wightman, beloved son and brother, taken far too young.” She remembered that he hadn’t been much older than his brother. And even though John’s mother had never mentioned any brothers, it was obvious there had been at least two.
A gust of wind stirred the grass around the grave as she stood looking down at the stone marker. It reminded her of the day she’d lost her father. Even though her parents had lived in a city and didn’t own cattle or sheep, every cowman knew exactly where to find her.
That was probably why John had given his family such trouble growing up. He had been used to being treated like a king; maybe he resented his brother for being born first and receiving so many privileges. Now he was gone, leaving no one to remember him except for people like her.
Susanne sat on the grass beside his grave for a while and stared at the sky, wondering what life was really meant to be about. Was it worth living without her father anymore? Had her mother truly loved him after his death? Did any parent love their child forever? What about love between a man and a woman? If it was only supposed to be temporary, then why did so many couples marry?
There was a sudden commotion outside and a group of men and women rushed to the entrance. One of them called out, “Susanne!”
It took her a moment to realize it wasn’t John’s wife, but his mother. Her shoulders slumped when she saw Susanne and hurried over to her. Susanne rose from the grass and followed her. She stopped just short of the woman and studied her for a minute.
“How did you get here?” she asked in a voice that sounded strained. “And how could you do something like that to John?”
“I’m not sorry for doing it,” Susanne said, keeping her voice firm and trying not to feel defensive. “He should have told me how he felt before he married my friend.”
“I think you’re mistaken about that,” the woman said in a hard tone. “He married her because he loved her.”
Susanne frowned. Why would John have wed someone like Margaret when he obviously liked being single? “Did you know they were going to divorce?” she asked.
“Of course, I knew.”
Susanne stared at her and wondered how much information John had shared with anyone else.
The woman walked away, leaving Susanne standing by the gate alone. The wind suddenly picked up again, bringing a chill that seemed to settle over her heart. After a minute she mounted up and rode toward the gate to return to the ranch. As she drove past the cemetery, she saw that a large crowd of people was gathering, talking loudly.
Susanne turned her horse back toward the cemetery, and it brought memories of the night John had died flooding back into her mind. He’d come in late after riding to another ranch. When he entered the house, the smell of whiskey drifted over the kitchen table.
Susanne hadn’t known it then, but he’d been drunk. He must have thought her asleep in her room since he went into the next room and closed the door behind him.
When he came out, he was still in his cowboy clothes and was carrying his six-shooter. His gaze met hers and held her in place for a long moment before she realized something was wrong. Then she ran down the hallway to find him lying in an untidy heap in a corner.
She knelt beside him and touched his body, hoping against hope that he was still alive, but his eyes were closed and there was no movement. Susanne leaned closer to hear if he had a heart attack or something like that, but all she heard was the sound of her own breathing and the rush of blood in her ears. She couldn’t believe how cold it had become in the space of a few minutes.
“Why are you staring at me?” he demanded.
“You…fell?” she answered, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Yes, I fell. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t seem hurt enough to kill himself. But then she realized he wasn’t wearing a coat and was barefoot under the bedcovers. How had he even managed to pull it off? He was probably too drunk to tell where the floor ended and his head started.
Susanne got up to look for some of his clothes to cover him, but when she opened his dresser drawer, his gun was lying inside. She looked at it and then pulled open the bureau drawers, searching for any other weapons he might have carried, but found nothing else.
She went back to the bedroom and gently lifted John’s arm, then moved his fingers. They felt cold and stiff; it was obvious he was dead.
Susanne wanted to call the sheriff and have him send the undertaker to pick up the body right away, but John’s mother wouldn’t allow that. Susanne waited until she finally convinced her husband’s mother to allow her to go upstairs with John’s body and put him in the bedroom closet.
She was surprised by the amount of blood covering the floor and walls, and she hoped that somehow John’s father wouldn’t notice.
A few hours later the family returned from town, bringing with them a stranger who said he was the brother-in-law of John’s mother.
They all crowded around the closet, asking questions and looking confused. Susanne stood in the doorway and watched them, wondering what kind of man this new arrival was. She noticed that he was watching her as well and wondered what made him so interested in John’s death.
Had John known anything about him? Or did he simply think his brother-in-law was curious about Susanne?
Finally, the group dispersed, leaving Susanne to clean the blood off the walls. The undertaker arrived early in the morning with his assistant and carted off John’s remains. Susanne took a quick glance at the corpse and was glad to see there was no sign of a bullet wound or broken bones. It appeared that he’d suffered a massive stroke while he slept.
It was almost five months before Susanne finally decided she needed help in dealing with the situation. She was feeling isolated and lonely, especially since she never really fit in anywhere, and was sure that no one would understand why John had shot himself.
So, once again she went to her sister for advice. Her older sibling had just been released from jail for a minor offense. She’d gone to prison for three years for not paying taxes on the money she’d earned playing poker in Texas, and Susanne had visited her often, taking care of her during the entire time.
Now that her sentence was finished, her sister had returned to San Antonio and asked Susanne to accompany her back home since she was worried that she might get mixed up with someone in town.
Susanne was glad to do so, and spent several weeks visiting with her family before they left for Texas. There was plenty of food in the house since they kept two or more horses in the stable. Susanne was amazed at how many things had changed since the last time she’d seen her family, especially since her parents had retired from ranching and sold their herd and land to a cattle baron from Oklahoma.
Her brother-in-law also owned a large cattle operation and was busy making improvements and buying up smaller ranches to expand his business. He seemed pleased with the changes he’d brought to the area and told her it now rivaled Kansas City in both population and prosperity.
After returning home, Susanne continued to work at the bank but spent most of her time with her sister, helping her to settle into her new life. The only thing that bothered Susanne was the thought that her sister was becoming like their father; she was drinking every night instead of eating properly and rarely slept.
When they’d first arrived at the ranch, her sister had asked about Susanne’s plans for the future and suggested that she come and work for her.
At the time Susanne didn’t want to leave San Francisco, but then she remembered how hard it had been for her to deal with the ranch hands alone, and if her older sister were willing to hire her to work on the ranch, then it might make it easier for her to stay there.
She’d talked it over with her family, who supported the idea, so Susanne began working for her sister in late September. It was a good opportunity for her because her older brother-in-law was still recovering from his injuries after being stabbed by one of the ranch hands last year. And it was nice having a place to live that wasn’t a shack or an old hotel room.
The day before Thanksgiving Susanne received a letter from her boss informing her that she could return to San Francisco anytime and that she should keep in touch with him, even if she found another job.
Susanne packed some clothes and rode to the railroad station where she boarded a train bound for San Francisco.
She knew that John’s mother hadn’t hired anyone else to replace her, so there probably wouldn’t be any problem leaving. If she stayed longer, John’s wife would eventually discover that Susanne had helped John commit suicide, but she didn’t know if his mother would tell his wife that much of what happened.
Susanne had a lot of time to think during the train trip, thinking about everything she’d learned over the past few months: that John had indeed been married at one point, that he hadn’t liked living out west and wanted to go back east, that his wife had divorced him and remarried a rich man, and that his parents weren’t happy about any of his decisions.
John’s father was furious when he discovered that Susanne was trying to learn more about his son and the circumstances surrounding his death, and she was certain that he would have done something terrible to her if he’d ever known who she was. But the more she learned, the more curious she became until she felt compelled to follow up on every clue.
But it wasn’t until Susanne reached San Francisco that she decided to contact her employer again and ask him for information about Thomas’s murder. He’d been murdered in May of 1881, which made it almost six months since the killing. She assumed the trail had grown cold because of the distance, so she figured it was worth a try.
Susanne wrote the banker a letter and gave it to a telegraph operator to send while she waited in the hotel lobby. When the message arrived at the bank, Mr. Rainsford called her into his office and handed her the note, saying she should meet him at the bank at nine o’clock the following morning.
He looked at her curiously as he handed the note to her but didn’t say anything, and Susanne wondered if her employer already knew she’d sent the message. But no matter how long she’d worked for him, she couldn’t read him well enough to figure out why he was suddenly interested in this case. She hoped he just needed confirmation that she really did have a copy of the will.
“I’m surprised you’re not waiting outside,” Mr. Rainsford said as he stood next to the window looking out at the city. “Didn’t your employer tell you to stay away from me?”
“Yes, sir. But I was told to give you this.” She held up the envelope in front of her face as though it were something disgusting and handed it to him.
Mr. Rainsford frowned. “That is odd. We never mentioned such a thing to each other. But I’m not going to argue with you; I’ve heard rumors that my son has become quite friendly with a woman in town. That’s all we need around here. So I suggest you return home to your husband and stay away from me, or I’ll fire you.”
Susanne stared at him. “You mean my husband? What makes you think I have a husband? Or are you just upset because someone broke up with you before you even got to bed him?”
Her words seemed to shock Mr. Rainsford because he turned around to stare at her before turning back to watch the busy street below. He must have seen the way she moved or heard her voice, and she guessed that he recognized her because she’d gone into the bank to retrieve the will weeks before.
Susanne took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She’d only said those things because she was angry. The truth was that she was attracted to men but hadn’t yet met someone who could hold her attention, let alone attract her emotions.
She’d thought she’d found a man like that once, but she quickly discovered that John wasn’t the one, and now she doubted she’d ever find anyone who appealed to her.
She’d been so close to finding Tom, too. If she’d known he was alive and that they’d been reunited, Susanne would have gone to him instead of following Tom’s trail, but she didn’t want to admit that it was an error. She also knew that if she hadn’t followed his tracks, there was a chance that she would never have learned about Thomas’s murder.
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t work for me anymore,” Mr. Rainsford said coldly after another moment of silence passed. His tone reminded her of his son’s, and she realized he’d probably always been this unfriendly toward her.
Susanne looked down at her dress and then back up at Mr. Rainsford. “Why are you saying this? Do you know something that proves I’m not Thomas’s daughter?”
He shook his head, and she sensed his answer was no. “No, I don’t suspect that’s true. It’s just that I don’t need any trouble. And I don’t trust you.”
His response surprised her. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she guessed that it was related to her working for him and Tom’s death, or maybe it had something to do with her meeting his son. Susanne knew the banker’s wife was dead, and he’d been left with three young daughters, one of whom was a widow.
Susanne remembered Mr. Rainsford had said he had a wife once. Maybe he felt guilty that he’d married someone else when he should have stayed with his first wife.
Susanne nodded her understanding. “Thank you for letting me know this, sir.” She started walking toward the door and paused. “One last thing: Did you know that my sister-in-law died two years ago?”
The banker stopped pacing and turned back to look at her again. “What?”
Susanne continued to walk out of the bank without answering. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said as she made her way back to the telegraph office to call Mr. Stetson and ask him if he wanted to come over to the bank later in the day to help her decipher a few more pages of the will.
The End