A Home in Drayton Valley Read Online Free Page A

more the next week. But next Friday, his time was up. He owed Lanker. He owed the tenement owner. And Mary would need money to buy food. Could he sell something? The only thing left of value was the mantel clock Mary’s grandfather had brought over from England. Mary wouldn’t part with it—and even if she did, no pawnshop owner would give him what he needed to pay his debt to Lanker.
    Mary’d done her best over the years to convince Joss that God would meet their needs. But no God—not even if He was as loving and giving as his wife proclaimed—would help a man who’d done as many wrongs as Joss Brubacher.
    With a strangled moan, Joss kicked at a clump of papers lying along the filthy boardwalk. He expected them to separate and scatter in the wind, but instead the entire clump rolled over twice and then settled with a stained, worn, brown cover facing up. Joss sucked in a breath—Mary’s book about Kansas.
    He bent over and yanked it up. His cold fingers trembled as he clung to the book. Maybe there was an answer to his problem.

 3 
    T he pain that never left Mary’s side stabbed as she bent over the children’s sleeping mats and tucked a soft quilt beneath their chins. Strength, Father , her heart begged as she forced a smile to her lips. “Sleep well now.”
    Emmy and Nathaniel murmured a sleepy response, and their eyes slipped closed, thick lashes casting shadows on their rounded cheeks. Mary’s heart swelled as a lump filled her throat. Such beautiful children. Such blessings.
    Mary struggled upright. The pain intensified with the movement. She ground her teeth together to hold back a moan. Each day the burden of pain, which had begun in her right breast more than a year ago and trailed beneath her arm and into her ribs over the ensuing months, became harder to bear. Having watched her own mother travel this pathway—although the pain had found Mary years earlier than it had gripped Mama—she knew what awaited.
    Strength, Father .
    Clutching her threadbare robe around her shoulders, she scuffed to the main room of the apartment and sank down at the trestle table. She rested her elbows on the scrubbed, scarred surface and let her face drop into her hands. How much time did she have? Weeks? Months, maybe? She hadn’t yet told Tarsie about the pain that held her captive. Her friendwould try her best to cure her, but Mary knew far too well there was no cure for this illness. It would take her soon enough. No need to leave Tarsie feeling guilty for something over which she had no control.
    Tarsie had called Kansas the place where happiness dwelled. Mary’s gaze drifted to the doorway of the sleeping room. She envisioned Emmy and Nathaniel, snuggled together on their mat, blond, curly heads tipped close. The children deserved a place of joy. Somehow, she had to get them out of this tenement before her time to leave the earth came. Her head low, she began to pray, asking God to protect her children, to move in her husband’s heart, to make it possible for the ones she loved more than life itself to find joy together when she could no longer be with them.
    Lost in her prayer, she gave a start when someone viciously wrenched the doorknob. Then a voice called, “Mary? Unlock the door.” Joss. Releasing an involuntary groan, she pushed herself off the bench and shuffled to open the door. She searched Joss’s face as he entered the apartment, seeking signs that he’d been imbibing liquor. Seeing none, she nearly sagged in relief.
    â€œYou missed your supper. Sit down. I’ll get you a plate.”
    Joss’s heels dragged on the floor as he crossed to the table and eased himself onto the waiting bench. She sensed his eyes following her as she scooped beans seasoned with pork fat onto a speckled plate. One biscuit from yesterday’s baking remained in the tin, so she tucked it next to the beans. Such a sad offering for a man