Page 64 of Taming Lady Temperance

James glared at the sorry excuse for a human. “You beat your little girl nearly to death, Claude.”

The man’s face paled before he hardened his expression. “Liar!”

“Am I?” James prowled forward, the fire of justice burning in his gut. “Then why are your knuckles raw and swollen? You’re wearing her blood.” He gestured to the man’s filthy clothes. “Took a couple swings at your wife, too, when she tried to stop you. Thank God your girl got away. Dragged herself as far as the schoolhouse before she collapsed. You could have killed her, Claude. Killed your own kin.”

His grip on the rifle loosened, and James snatched it from his hands.

The man made no protest, just stared at his hands as if he’d never seen them before. He curled one into a fist, winced at the pain the movement brought, then let his fingers unfurl. “I . . . I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just . . .”

“Just what, Claude? Wanted to teach her a lesson? With your fists?” James tossed the rifle aside and got up in Claude’s face. “That girl loves you. Even lying on the schoolroom floor, broken and bleeding from the beating you gave her, she believed in you. Believed that you would change. That you would want to change. Your wife wasn’t so sure. When I got here, she was packing up her things so she could take her child somewhere safe. Somewhere away from you.”

“Trudy wouldn’t leave me.”

“You gave her no choice.”

Claude stumbled over to the wagon and leaned his back against it for support. His hand shook as he combed back his unruly hair. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dented silver flask.

James lunged forward and knocked the flask from his hand.

“I need that!”

James grabbed him by his filthy shirt and pinned him against the wagon bed. “What you need is to sober up and become the man your daughter believes you can be. A man who protects his family instead of destroying it.”

James released him with a final shove and walked away. He might not have been able to make an arrest, but maybe he’d made an impression. Hopefully, one that would spawn change. Not that it would be easy. Once liquor got its claws into a man, it was hard to break free. Hard, but not impossible. Especially if you weren’t alone.

After swinging up into his saddle, James nudged his horse up to where Claude sat huddled against the wagon wheel. At least the man hadn’t crawled after his flask.

“I’ll stop by a few times this week to check on you.”

Claude made no response, just stared into the air.

“Anything you want me to convey to your wife or daughter?”

The big man hung his head. “Tell ’em . . . I’m s-sorry.” Tears choked his words as the reality of what he’d done finally started to seep into his brain.

“I will, but it’ll be up to you to show them how much you mean it.”

Chapter

30

Noreen had never realized how slowly time could crawl until she found herself incarcerated. By Thursday evening, she’d read through three of Jane’s novels, mended every tear or missing button from James’s wardrobe, and had even written a letter of apology to Milton Taggert. Thank the Lord for good friends, or boredom might have stolen her sanity. Jane stopped by every morning with breakfast, fresh reading material, and cheerful conversation. Martha came by after school let out each afternoon and chatted while she graded the day’s assignments. James checked on her every few hours during the middle of the day and again at night before he turned in.

Trudy Templeton brought Luella by to see her yesterday before they left town. Luella’s bruises had turned a deep purple, but her smile carried a beauty lit with hope. She had reached through the bars, clasped Noreen’s hand, and promised to pray for her. Dear, sweet girl. Noreen had vowed to return the favor, an easy promise to make since she’d already been praying for Luella with great fervency. She’d been praying for her father, too, ever since James had told her about the conversation he’d had with Claude Templeton. Praying that the man would finally find the motivation and strength to break free of liquor’s hold.

Strange how forgiveness changed a person. A few days ago, her heart would have been too crusted with anger to allow her to pray for Claude Templeton. But after confessing the truth of her past to James and receiving his grace-filled response, the scabs on her soul finally fell away. The morning after he’d held her with such tender acceptance, she’d awakened refreshed and, in some ways, reborn. The weight of the guilt she’d carried since childhood had been replaced with a buoyant gratitude. The Lord had set her free from the chains she’d stubbornly clung to despite his forgiveness and mercy. And with their constriction released, her heart stretched wide, gaining the space necessary to extend grace to others. Even her enemies.

“Miss O’Sullivan? You have visitors.” James’s call from the stairwell scattered her musings. “May we come up?”

Miss O’Sullivan? Her visitors must be someone other than Jane or Martha for him to use such a formal address. Perhaps the parson had decided to pay a call.

Noreen rose from her chair and smoothed her skirt. “You may.”

Martha emerged first, but her expression wilted Noreen’s smile of welcome. Apologies gleamed in her eyes. Exactly who was climbing the stairs behind her?

“Martha, dear. Give me a hand, would you?”

“Of course, Miss Lockwood.” Martha hurried back to the stairwell to assist the spinster society’s founder.