But For Grace (HEARTSONG PRESENTS - HISTORICAL) Read online

  Excited by the new game, Cannonball let out a high-pitched bark and jumped up again, knocking against Star’s ankle. “Ow! That’s the worst dog I’ve ever seen in my life. Can’t you make him stay off me?”

  “Bad dog,” Michael said, lowering his tone. “You’re hurting Star. Now you stay down.”

  Miraculously, the animal obeyed.

  “You know,” Michael said. “If he scared you, you should have run to the barn instead of heading off down the road. You could have gotten lost if you’d run into the woods.”

  “I didn’t think,” Star muttered, unwilling to admit she had been running away from the man and not the beast, to begin with. A quiver rippled through her stomach. What would she find when they got inside?

  ❧

  This girl was nothing but trouble. Bad enough he had to explain her presence to his mother. Now he also had to try to explain why she was caked in mud from head to toe.

  He knew better than to question God again. For some reason, this waif had been led to him. All he could do was try to find a way to help her.

  Michael stepped onto the porch. Star sighed, her breath against his neck sending a rush of emotions through him.

  Turning, he looked into her heart-shaped face. The lamp hanging over the awning cast a glow over them, making her hair shimmer in the light. Even with her face smeared with mud, her beauty shone through.

  He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. His breath caught in his throat at the fear widening her eyes. She was afraid of him? All he had done since he’d found her was try to help her. How could she even imagine he’d do anything to harm her?

  He would have demanded an answer, but the door swung open. His mother stood at the threshold, wearing a relieved smile. “Michael, you’re home! I was beginning to worry. My word, who have you got there?” She moved back.

  “This is Star Campbell,” he said, stepping inside.

  “Y–you really have a ma?” Star squeaked out.

  “Of course I have a—”

  “What did you do to the poor child? She’s covered in mud.”

  “It was that mutt. He—”

  “Daddy! What took you so long?” Aimee stood in the center of the room, looking very much like a doll in her nightgown and lacy nightcap.

  “Hi, Sweetheart—”

  “And a daughter?” Star began to sob.

  Ma jammed her fists onto her round hips. “Now look. You’ve gone and made the sweet thing cry.”

  Michael’s head whirled from all the questions flung at him. Star thought he had been lying to her? That explained her fear.

  “Shh, Star. Everything’s all right now,” he said, wishing the wailing in his ear would stop.

  “Come,” his mother said. “Let’s lay her down on my bed.”

  “She’s filthy. How about the cot in the lean-to?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted. “It’s dusty and cold out there.”

  Michael sighed heavily. “She can take your room, and you can use the loft. I’ll sleep in the lean-to for tonight.”

  Star let out another loud sob. “I can’t take your bedroom, Ma’am!”

  “Nonsense. You’ll just use Aimee’s bed, and she’ll hop in my bed with me. We gals can all share that one room, and Michael can keep to his loft.”

  “You can stop arguing over where to put me,” Star gulped, “because I’m not staying.”

  “Of course you’re staying,” Ma said firmly, gentleness softening her voice.

  “I don’t want to be any trouble, Ma’am. I’ve already caused your son more than his share.”

  Ma patted her arm gently. “Don’t you worry yourself about any of that. Michael can take it.” She cast her gaze upward. “Now, go set her down in a chair by the table, and I’ll warm some water for a nice bath.”

  Star swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her dress, smearing more mud on the perky tip.

  Fearful of sending her into another tizzy, Michael fought the urge to laugh aloud at the sight.

  Ma turned her attention toward Aimee, who scampered around the room, trying to assess the situation. “Aimee, Honey, you can sleep with me tonight, and we’ll let our lovely guest sleep in your bed. How does that sound?”

  “Okay.”

  Michael’s mother scurried to the kitchen.

  Aimee cast a shy glance up at Star. “Don’t you wish sometimes you could just keep the mud on for awhile? Grammy always wants me to wash it off right away.”

  Star sniffed and giggled. The sound captured Michael’s heart. It was the first time he’d heard her laugh. The spontaneity was every bit as heartwarming as a child’s.

  “I’ve never been covered in mud until now,” she admitted.

  The little girl gave her a serious look. “How do you like it?”

  Star’s lips twitched, and Michael could tell that she was trying to keep her expression grave to match Aimee’s. “Well, it’s not too bad,” she said. “But I think I prefer to be clean.”

  Aimee sighed. “I suppose it’s because you’re grown up.” Her face lit with a grin. “I like being muddy better.”

  “Run along and do as you were told, Sweetheart,” Michael instructed. “Crawl into Grammy’s bed. I’ll be in to hear your prayers soon.”

  “Yes, Pa.” Aimee bobbed her little head, wrapped a quick hug around Michael’s leg, and set off to do as she was told.

  “Sorry about that,” Michael said.

  “About what?”

  “She’s rather outspoken.”

  Star’s lips curved into a soft smile. “I think she’s sweet.” She cleared her throat, her eyes downcast. “Mr. Riley, I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  Michael started toward the table. “You don’t know me well enough to trust me yet. Let’s forget about it for now, okay?”

  Star winced when he set her down. Sliding a chair up close, he gently lifted her leg and propped her foot. “May I take a look at it?”

  A blush crept to her pale cheeks. She nodded her assent. Quickly, she averted her gaze, which was just as well. His attraction for her was growing, and he didn’t need the complication of being captured by her luminous eyes. He could either have a beautiful woman or a proper mother for his daughter. They just didn’t come in the same package. For Aimee’s sake, he had to be practical. If he had to throw on a blindfold every time he walked into the same room with Star, so be it. He wouldn’t be hornswoggled again.

  Grabbing her dress with both hands, Star inched the skirt upward, revealing tattered slippers. Michael could only wonder why she would wear such impractical footwear, but in this case, it was a mercy. Michael would never have gotten a boot off her foot without causing her undue amounts of pain.

  Gingerly, he lifted her heel. Star drew a sharp breath. Michael glanced up. Her lip was captured between her teeth, and fresh tears of pain shimmered in her eyes.

  “I know it hurts, but I have to get the shoe off.”

  She nodded. “It’s all right.”

  Michael slipped it off as gently as he could, but knew from her furrowed brow and deathly white face, the pain was excruciating.

  She let out a long, slow breath once he set her foot back on the chair.

  Ma bustled to the table, carrying two heaping plates. “You both must be starving.” She glanced at Star’s foot. “What happened?”

  “She twisted her um. . .limb outside.” Michael scowled. “Why did you think I was carrying her?”

  Ma shrugged. “Well, how was I to know? I thought maybe you’d gone and found yourself a wife.”

  Feeling the heat scorch his ears, Michael cleared his throat. “No, Ma. Cannonball scared the daylights out of her, and she hurt her foot running away from the dumb mutt.”

  Ma scowled and set the plates down on the wooden table. “That animal. He’s going to be the death of someone one of these days. I should’ve sent him packing long ago.”

  Michael couldn’t help the grin playing at the corners of his lips. Ma had found the dog as a pup and insisted t
hey take him in. She spoiled him more than any of them. Of course, he couldn’t very well remind her of the fact, or he was liable to get a thwap on the head.

  “Please don’t send Cannonball away,” Star pleaded. “It was really my own fault, anyway. H–he thought it was a game.”

  Ma’s face softened, and she reached out a plump hand to pat Star’s arm. “All right. He can stay.” She turned her gaze to Michael and sharpened her tone. “But teach him some manners.”

  “Yes, Ma.”

  “Now, you two eat before your supper gets cold,” she ordered. “I’ll sit here and drink my coffee, and you can tell me all about how you came to find each other.”

  Star jerked her head up, sending Michael a silent plea.

  Michael wanted to respect her obvious wish to keep secret the fact that someone was after her, but he knew he couldn’t keep the truth from his ma. Not only was it the wrong thing to do, it wasn’t possible. Ma could smell a lie from ten miles away.

  He gave Star a reassuring smile and launched the tale.

  “What were you running from, Honey?” Ma asked when he finished.

  Star kept her gaze on her plate.

  Ma reached over and took the girl’s hand. “It’s all right, Star,” she said gently. “You’ll tell us when you’re good and ready. Until then, don’t you worry. You’re safe with us.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “You must call me Miss Hannah. Everyone does.” She stood and headed for the stove. “Now, that water should be just about ready. Son, can you go and get one of Sarah’s old night shifts so Star can have a bath and get to bed? She looks exhausted.”

  Michael stiffened at the suggestion. He hadn’t touched Sarah’s clothing since he’d packed them away after her death. The thought of Star wearing any of Sarah’s frilly things irritated him and brought back his suspicions. Were these two women cut from the same cloth?

  Star glanced quickly at Michael. “I. . .really don’t bother,” she said. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble because of me.”

  Ma waved away the protest. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all. Those clothes are just packed away in an old trunk up in Michael’s loft. Anything I own would wrap around your little body three times.” She looked pointedly at Michael. “There’s no choice.”

  She was right. The poor girl had to have something to wear. But he made a mental note. First thing in the morning, he would go to the mercantile in Hobbs and buy material for her to make some things of her own. As soon as she did, he would burn every last stitch of clothing Sarah had owned.

  “Will you be all right in here alone for a few minutes?” Ma asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Star whispered, without looking up. Ma fixed her gaze back on Michael. She raised her brow, and he braced himself for the kind of tongue-lashing only Ma could give.

  “Come onto the porch and help me carry in the washtub, Son,” she said pointedly, allowing for no objections.

  Michael followed her outside. As soon as the door shut behind them, she whipped about, hands resting on ample hips.

  “How could you make that child feel so unwelcome?”

  Michael blinked in surprise at the attack. “Unwelcome?”

  “You nearly refused to allow her to wear Sarah’s things. Your wife has been gone for five years. It’s high time you start living again. That sweet thing in there needs us, and I intend to make sure she feels just as welcome as if she were the president’s wife. And so will you, or so help me I’ll. . .” Her eyes widened, and she reached out to touch his bruised jaw. “Michael! What happened to your face?”

  Still reeling from the onslaught, Michael laughed outright. Bending way down, he kissed her plump cheek with a resounding smack. “That sweet, helpless thing in there knocked me flat on my back. That’s what. And you ought to see the bruise on my leg from the kick she gave me.”

  He couldn’t help but enjoy the effect his words caused. Ma gaped at him, her eyes round as saucers. “She did that to you?”

  “ ’Fraid so.” He grew serious. “Ma, the man who was chasing her told me she stole a load of cash from her guardian. I know God sent her to us, but we need to use wisdom so we don’t get ourselves robbed.”

  Ma’s eyes clouded with worry for a moment. She recovered quickly and gave a short, decisive nod. “If God sent her to us, He has His reasons. Thief or no, Star has a good heart. I can see it in her eyes. And we’ll do all we can for her. Let’s start by getting her all snuggled in for the night. Oh, no.” She clapped her hand to her cheek. “I forgot all about Aimee. Finish pouring the water and go tuck her in. She’s missed you something awful.”

  Michael grinned as they went back inside. He’d missed her too. Steam rose up, clouding his vision as he poured the hot water into the tub. He only hoped God, and not a pretty face, had drawn him to Star. What if he had made a mistake bringing her into his home?

  Four

  Star snuggled down between soft sheets and a quilt. Feeling remarkably cozy and warm, she closed her eyes and smiled. Michael’s mother was wonderful, she decided. The woman had provided her with a hot bath, helped her dress, then tucked her into bed as though she were a child.

  The memory of her own mama tucking her in for the night came back as a faraway image in the recesses of Star’s mind, but it quickly became as vivid as though she were reliving the past. She could almost feel the gentle hands smoothing her hair back from her face, could almost hear Mama’s whispered dreams of someday leaving Luke and buying a small home of their own. A place where Star could go to school and play with other children. Tears formed at the corners of Star’s eyes.

  Oh, Mama, I never cared where I lived or whether I had other children to play with. All I ever cared about was you. But you don’t need to worry about me anymore. I got away from Luke. He’ll never find me—not until I’m ready to face him for what he did to you.

  A wrenching sob rose and became a groan as it left her lips. Her stomach tightened, and her body shook violently as the anguish she’d suppressed throughout the day now came pouring out. She pounded at the soft bed with her fists. Why did he have to kill my mama?

  He wouldn’t get away with it. Somehow, she would make Luke pay for what he’d done. When the time was right, she’d go back to Oregon City; and if Luke had already moved on, she’d track him down like the animal he was. He’d get what was coming to him. If it was the last thing she ever did on this earth, she’d make him pay.

  A floorboard creaked, pulling Star from her vengeful thoughts. She stiffened. Suspicion clouded every sense. She knew it! Michael Riley was a snake if she’d ever seen one—and she’d seen plenty—enough to know what he was after. What sort of a man entered a woman’s room when his own mother and daughter were in the next bed?

  She balled up her fist and waited. If he so much as laid a fingernail on her, she’d scream and blacken his eye.

  The muffled sounds of bare feet moved closer on the wooden planks. Star’s heart hammered against her chest. Slowly, the covers on the opposite side of the bed lifted, letting in the cold. Star frowned as the bed moved a little. But not much. Even if he were particularly careful, Michael’s weight would have made more of a dent in the mattress.

  Opening one eye, Star ventured a peek. Recognizing the little intruder, she let out a relieved laugh. Aimee lay so close, they were practically nose to nose. Her wide brown eyes—so like her father’s—stared curiously back at Star.

  “What are you doing?” Star asked the little girl.

  “Grammy’s snoring real loud,” Aimee whispered. “Can I sleep with you?”

  “Well, what if I snore too?” Star teased.

  The little girl seemed to consider the question. “Then I guess I’ll go sleep in the barn with Cannonball.” She let out a giggle. Star laughed at the joke, enchanted with the little pixie next to her. The child’s face suddenly grew serious. “Miss Star?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you come here to be my new mama?”

  Star gaspe
d. “Did your pa tell you that?”

  “No.”

  A curious disappointment fluttered across Star’s stomach. “No. I’m not going to be your new mama. Why do you ask?”

  The little girl’s face fell. “Because I don’t got one. Most children do, you know. Only not me. Never had one. I keep praying and praying for God to send me a ma. I just thought maybe you were the one I prayed for.”

  Star knew she was no one’s answer to prayer. She searched for comforting words to say, but could think of nothing suitable. She understood the pain of losing a mother, but at least she’d had seventeen years with hers. The poor child had never known a mother’s love. “Well, if I was going to have a little girl, I couldn’t think of a nicer one than you.”

  “I have an idea.” Aimee’s round eyes shone with the wonder of her brilliant plan.

  “Tell me,” Star said. But the child’s next words nearly broke her heart.

  “Let’s pretend you’re my mama. Just for tonight.”

  Star’s breath left her lungs with a whoosh. “Oh, Aimee. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” What would Michael think? He’d hit the roof if he thought she’d even entertained such a request.

  Aimee’s face clouded with disappointment. “Just until I fall asleep?”

  “I’ve never been a mother, Sweetie. I wouldn’t even know what to do. How about if we pretend I’m your aunt or your big sister, maybe?”

  A scowl darkened the moonlit face. “Never mind.” The frown lifted as soon as it had appeared and her expression brightened. “Could you tell me a story?”

  Star’s heart sank to her toes. She only knew a couple of stories, and they weren’t even close to suitable for Michael’s little girl, though she’d heard them when she was a child.

  “I don’t know any,” she admitted.

  “Not even one?”

  Star shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

  “But didn’t your ma and pa ever tell you any stories?”

  “I didn’t have a pa,” she replied, hoping Aimee wouldn’t press that particular subject.

  The little girl’s eyes sobered with understanding. “Like I don’t have a ma.”