Page 92 of Montana Lawman Rescuer
“I’ve forgiven my mother.” He told Gram of his experience.
She hugged him. “Good for you.”
“I wanted to tell Emily, but she wouldn’t let me.”
Gram chuckled. “All I can say is that actions speak louder than words.”
He squinted at her. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll let you figure it out. Now, leave me to do my work.” She looked past him. “I do wish Emily would take over my business. I’m getting too old for this.”
Her remark took him aback. For some reason, he saw her as timeless, always the same, always there. Of course, it wasn’t so. He patted her shoulder. “You don’t need to keep doing this. I can support us.”
“I know. But I hate to leave my customers without an alternative.”
“I hope something works out for you.” He left the house, swung to Rocky’s back, and trotted down the street to see who was moving into the empty house.
The front door stood open, allowing him a glimpse of a woman sweeping the floor. He slowed and stared. Emily?
She was staying in town?
He sat back in the saddle and chuckled, knowing he’d been given a second chance. One he didn’t intend to waste.
Gram had said actions spoke louder than words. Starting today, his actions would show how much he cared for and respected her.
He went back home, collected some tools, and returned to Emily’s house, where he went to the backyard and began to cut down the overgrown weeds. An hour later, he was hot, dusty, and sweaty. He straightened and looked around. It would take several afternoons to achieve his goal of turning the overgrown yard into the beautiful garden it had once been.
After stretching his back and rubbing his neck, he returned to the task. Several times, he glanced toward the house, hoping for a glimpse of Emily, but not once did he see her.
It was almost suppertime when he left the yard. He’d come back tomorrow.
He returned early the next morning before the day grew too hot. By noon, he’d not seen her at the house, and with other things to tend to, he had to leave, disappointed. But he wasn’t about to give up.
Saturday morning, he again returned. He’d been there an hour when he heard doors slamming, and he jerked around to watch the house. The back door flew open, and Mikey ran to him, yelling, “Yesse,” at the top of his lungs.
Jesse caught the boy and swung him overhead, then hugged him tight. “I missed you, little cowboy.”
Mikey hugged Jesse’s neck so hard he could hardly breathe.
Emily came to the door and watched them cautiously. Then she saw the garden. He’d cleaned out one corner. Her eyes widened, and she rushed to the bushes, touching the half-dozen red roses.
“You did this?”
He nodded.
“Did Grandfather Marshall ask you to?”
“No one asked me.” He shifted Mikey to one side so he could watch her more closely.
“Then why?”
“Because I saw you moving into the house and knew how much you would enjoy the flowers.”
“But why?”
He understood that she meant more than the work he had done. He lowered Mikey to the ground and took a step closer to Emily. “Because actions speak louder than words.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
