Diantha

by Zina Abbott

  “Surprise!”

  Hilaina’s jaw dropped, and she felt at loss for words as the chorus of congratulations and welcome greeted her and Buck. In spite of the cold weather, it looked like most of Wildcat Ridge had turned out. She turned to see Diantha, a wide smile on her face, approach with her arms outstretched.

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  Chapter 26

  ~o0o~

  D iantha experienced great delight in having completely surprised Hilaina by organizing this wedding reception so quickly. As soon as she heard about the wedding plans from Hank, she had closed her hotel long enough to visit the Crystal Café, the marshal’s office and Sweet & Spicy Bakery where she told everyone her plans and asked them to spread the word. She also visited Susannah at the bakery and bought a large two-layer confection to serve as a wedding cake.

  That evening, even after spending a full day working with Buck finish up the home for the Dowds, Hank—dear man—helped her move the tables in his store, restack his inventory in the back where they covered it with tablecloths. He helped her bring out her china dishes for refreshments. She found some decorations from her own rooms to add color to the room.

  As people began to arrive after the dinner hour, they had not disappointed her. Many brought additional refreshments to add to the food table. Garnet promised that after she closed her café, she would come over help with the food. She’ll add her coffee pot and teapots to those Diantha kept in her kitchen. While they waited for the wedding party to return, everyone milled around, visited, and speculated on how soon the storm would hit. Once they heard Buck’s team pull into the side yard next to the new home built next to the laundry building, they gathered in the lobby, with several of the children taking seats on the stairs, in order to greet the newlyweds when they entered.

  Seeing the surprise and joy on Hilaina’s and Buck’s faces as they entered and realized the town had turned out to celebrate with them lifted Diantha’s spirits like nothing she had experienced since Hank asked to court her. She stepped forward to welcome the pair.

  “We have all come to spend a little time to celebrate this special day with you. We have a wedding cake for you to cut and other refreshments. Of course, with this being the Sabbath, we won’t have any dancing. However, please mingle with your friends and enjoy this time.”

  After the newlyweds cut the first slice of cake and fed a bite to each other, Diantha watched as Elmira wordlessly stepped around to the back of the table to take over cutting the wedding cake and the other pies and cakes into slices for the guests. Soon, most of those who attended filled their plates. Diantha turned to Elmira, who wore a wistful expression on her face.

  “Would’ve liked to have baked Hilaina’s cake myself, only there weren’t no time. I’m mighty obliged to you doing this for them.”

  “I was happy to do it. Your family has become very dear to me.”

  “When you and Hank marry up, you best let me help, or I ain’t going to take it kindly.”

  Diantha laughed. “I will, Elmira.”

  Diantha walked away to join her guests but could not ignore the disquiet Elmira’s comment prompted in her. She spoke as if it was a sure thing that she and Hank would eventually marry. Yet, they had only agreed to court. If Hank grew too discouraged with his situation here in Wildcat Ridge, there was nothing to keep him from breaking off the courtship and moving away. If that were to happen, Diantha knew her heart would shatter. Her sorrow and disappointment would exceed even that she felt when she first learned Eugene had died, and later when she learned he kept a mistress who bore him a son. All she knew to do was to hope that all would eventually work out the best for both of them.

  Absorbed in her musings, Diantha felt completely caught off guard when Hank slid his hand under her elbow and guided her towards a relatively quiet corner of the lobby. She smiled as he leaned over and spoke softly in her ear.

  “You have done a wonderful job, Diantha. I cannot believe you put together this grand affair in such a short amount of time.”

  “I’m pleased with the reception. If not for your help last night and the rest of the town coming together, the reception would not have turned out as well as it did.” As Hank sighed and wrapped his arm behind her back, pulling her towards him, she melded the side of her body to his. No words described the comfort and joy she felt being next to him like this.

  “I must admit, as I watched those two say their wedding vows, I wished it would have been us up there getting married. I look forward to the day when I can view myself in the mirror and not see a failure, but someone who is worthy of you.”

  “Oh, Hank. I’m so sorry you feel that way.” Diantha could not decide if it was joy or sorrow she felt as Hank confessed he wished it was the two of them who married that day. She settled on disappointment. She also desired to join her life with his. “You are not a failure, Hank. You are already worthy of any woman, and I am honored if I am the woman you wish to eventually marry.”

  Hank sighed with regret and shook his head. “You have more faith in me, Diantha, than I have in myself.”

  She wondered what would have to take place, and how long Hank thought he needed to wait, until he felt ready to commit himself fully to her. “Hank, you said yourself your father expects an answer by the end of the year regarding you returning to Salt Lake City to take over the family business and marry your sister-in-law. Even if it turns out to be impossible for you to get out if the snow is too deep, he will want an answer. You will need to confront him about the business. If you truly want no part of it, perhaps you can suggest he put it in trust for your nephew so your sister-in-law’s family does not try to take it away. As for her, if you are already married by then, the subject of you marrying her will be out of the question.”

  Unable to hide her longing, all the others in the building disappeared for her as her gaze met Hank’s. “I don’t want to pressure you, Hank, but it is something to consider.” They continued to stare at each over in silence for several seconds. Diantha could tell Hank considered her words. What she did not know was what thought about them.

  “Diantha, I am so unprepared for this and so undeserving. I cannot even offer you a ring, but I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me? Will you make our engagement official? If you say yes, and then you later wish to be released, you need only say…”

  Diantha reached up her hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. “The answer is yes, I will marry you, Hank. I will not be the one who wishes to be released.” Joy soared within Diantha’s entire being when Hank grabbed her hand and first kissed the back of it and then her palm.

  Startled by the gasp she heard not two feet behind her, she spun around to see an excited Hilaina with her hands covering her mouth. She quickly congratulated them before she ran over to Buck. She tugged on his arm to get his attention. As Diantha watched Hilaina whisper to her new husband, she smiled as she felt Hank’s breath against her ear.

  “I have a feeling the cat will soon be out of the bag. I hope you truly are agreeable to being engaged to me.”

  “Hey, can I have everyone’s attention?”

  Diantha watched as Buck, in vain, called out to people to stop talking and listen. Next thing she knew, he put his two pinkie fingers to his lips and blew out an ear-piercing whistle. Once everyone settled down and turned towards him, he waved her and Hank over to join them. Diantha grabbed Hank’s hand and next to the newlyweds

  “Want everyone here to know Hilaina’s and my day just got doubly better. We just found out Diantha, who owns this hotel, and Hank, our postmaster, are now officially engaged. Let’s give them a hand.”

  Diantha could not help but blush at the attention and expressions of congratulations her friends and neighbors in Wildcat Ridge offered her and Hank. She could not believe the darkness that had descended upon her and so many others at the time of the mine disaster had lifted somewhat. With her engagement to Hank, she now faced a brighter future.
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br />   “When you figure on tying the knot?”

  Diantha looked down to Elmira at her side. “We haven’t decided.”

  “Church wedding is best, but be a mite chancy going to Curdy’s Crossing over winter. Might have to wait until spring melt.”

  Diantha glanced at Hank, and then back. “A church wedding would be nice, but due to some other considerations, we might decide to marry sooner. If so, we’ll ask Owen Vaile to marry us. We are fortunate that, as a state judge, he has the authority to do that.” Diantha smiled as Elmira turned in the direction of the refreshment table she had been overseeing.

  “Best give me a week’s notice. Figure on seeing you get a right smart shindig like you done for my Hilaina.”

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  Chapter 27

  ~o0o~

  Wildcat Ridge, Utah –late-November, 1884

  H ank clutched the telegram in his fist as he stared out the front window of his store. He shivered and wished he had donned his coat before leaving the warmth of the coal heater to watch the road leading to the Wells Fargo station. Growing up in Salt Lake City, snow did not bother Hank. However, he knew the snow here in the mountains surrounding Wildcat Ridge tended to start earlier, pile higher, and stay longer than in the valley. The locals had told him in passing as they came to check to see if the mail got through that it was worse this year than they recalled in recent years. The storm that had threatened the day Buck and Hilaina married started in earnest that night. However, it was Tuesday before people realized it was stronger than the usual snowstorms they expected in November. One storm followed another for almost two weeks before the sun came out and began to melt things. Only then could men start digging out and getting life back to normal.

  Hank laughed to himself. Buck had worried about not enough work over the winter. Although he would never get rich shoveling snow and clearing roofs, he received job offers right and left. Recalling Diantha’s safety concerns for removing snow on the hotel roof, Hank had helped hold a safety line for Buck on most of his roof jobs. Instead of taking a part of the pay, he worked a deal where Buck would build him a bookshelf unit when the work eased up and they could get to Curdy’s Crossing for Hank to buy the right kind of wood.

  The telegraph now served as their only communication—as long as the lines stayed up. There had been a few days when the lines went down and the telegraph operator, Mr. Briggs, had waited impatiently for his equipment to resume its clacking.

  The telegram in Hank’s hand which, to his relief had not come from his father, told him the Wells Fargo stagecoach was on its way, even though it was a day late, and it left its last stop two hours past the usual time. If it ran into no additional delays—which with the road clogged with snow it might—it meant the earliest he expected the stage to pull in was two o’clock. That time had passed a half hour ago, and he now worried the driver and his conductor riding shotgun might have run into serious trouble.

  Hank squinted his eyes against the glare reflecting off the snow once he realized the movement of a red blotch he saw in the distance was the stagecoach. He turned to don his cold weather gear to go to the Wells Fargo office.

  Hank stood on the boardwalk outside the Wells Fargo office door as the stage with two obviously exhausted men on top pulled to a halt. He caught the first of two mail satchels the driver tossed to him. “I have over two weeks of outgoing mail. Are you going to be able to travel on to the next stop?” He caught the second one. They both felt heavier than usual. He hoped that meant someone had consolidated the mail in the satchels, not that there was mail stuck somewhere else due to the weather, perhaps lost until spring, if not indefinitely.

  “We’ll make it to Curdy’s Crossing. Not sure we’ll go beyond there today. Got a parcel inside one of them satchels for you.”

  “They sent it through the mail instead of Wells Fargo?” Hank waited as the man slowly eased his almost-frozen limbs off the coach and onto the ground. “Yup. Heard-tell it’s addressed to you. Also hear congratulations are in order. Mrs. Ames must have got over you taking her job away from her.”

  Hank smiled. “Thank you. Yes, we worked out our differences and, gratefully, she is a forgiving lady. I’ll have my outgoing mail bundled by destination and in the satchel waiting for you when you head back from the café. I know they’ve been holding your dinner and keeping it hot.”

  Back in his store, Hank greeted the two women who were waiting for him, obviously excited about the prospect of receiving mail after more than two weeks of doing without. He dumped the mail on the sorting counter. His fingers quivered with anticipation as he fought back the desire to open the string-tied parcel addressed to him that felt like it held a bundle of paper inside. He guessed it was his manuscript he sent the same day he received word Louis died. Did this publisher reject it like the first one had? Forcing himself to focus on his responsibilities, he broke the bundles of mail apart and quickly sorted them into the case. Before he knew it, Diantha joined him to help process the larger-than-usual volume.

  As word spread through town the mail arrived, customers flooded into his store. Knowing it would soon be time for him to hand off the two satchels, he turned over handing out the mail to Diantha while he accepted and prepared the outgoing. He barely made it to the doorway when the driver, who looked somewhat revived after a hot meal and a half hour of rest at a table placed next to a coal heater, walked by and collected the satchels. He wished the driver well on the next leg of his trip to Curdy’s Crossing. He stepped over to his mail case once more and dealt with customers who had come for the opportunity to visit as well as check on their mail. The entire time, his thoughts never left the parcel with his name on it waiting to be opened.

  After the last person left, Hank closed the double doors to his store. Keeping his back to the windows, he used his pen knife to cut the string and carefully unwrapped the bundle. On top, he found a letter written using a typing machine. He flipped the pages. Immediately, his heart sank as he recognized his handwriting on the other pages. His manuscript had been returned. Heaving a sigh of resignation, he placed the papers on the table he used for a desk and sat down in his chair to read the letter. Even if his book had been rejected, perhaps the publisher wrote something to help him improve his writing so next time he might meet with success.

  The letter started with a standard response thanking Hank for considering their company for publishing his book. However, as the letter progressed, he leaned forward and carefully read what was said. He reread the meat of the letter. At the bottom, he found a signature but realized the publisher sent a second page. He pulled it out and scanned it then read it again carefully.

  Hank rose from his chair and stuck his head into the hotel lobby. He saw Diantha at her registration counter with her half-full plate of cookies off to the side. Barely able to maintain his composure, he hurried over to her side. “Diantha, are you able to leave the registration area for a few minutes? I have something in the store I wish to show you.”

  Once they passed through the doors and Hank closed them, he clutched Diantha by the shoulders. “I heard from the publisher I sent my book to. There are a few changes he wants made. If I agree to them, he will publish my book. He even sent a contract for me to look over.” Full of anticipation, he studied Diantha’s reaction.

  “Why, that is wonderful, Hank. You found someone who is interested in your work and is willing to publish it. Are you willing to make the changes he wants?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t looked through it yet for the changes. His letter said he wrote some notes on the pertinent pages. But, if I agree, and return the manuscript with the changes plus a signed contract, he’ll publish my book.” Hank pulled Diantha into his arms. “I’m so excited about this, but I keep telling myself I must make sure the changes he expects won’t compromise my story—essentially turn it into something different than what I intended.”

  “I agree. You must be true to yourself.”


  As if by mutual agreement, Hank leaned towards Diantha as she lifted her lips to meet his. They kissed gently, not with the passion he desired to share with her once they married. Then the realization struck Hank the same as if a pallet of bricks from his father’s business landed on his head. He did want to marry Diantha—and soon. This letter gave him hope that publishers—if not this one, then another—were interested in his work. He had enough of a future in writing that, combined with his postmaster position and sales of books and stationary supplies, he could support not only himself, but also Diantha, if need be. He reached down and spoke softly into her ear. “My love, did you ever talk to your attorney about writing up an agreement that will allow you to keep possession of the hotel in your own name when we marry?”

  With a teasing smile, he watched her lean away from him, a question in her expression.

  “Why, no. I only arranged for that restraining order against Mr. Crane. Regarding this other matter, I did not feel the urgency.”

  “The matter is now urgent, Diantha. I feel confident in my ability to succeed, even if my success ends up looking different than what I originally envisioned. If you are not opposed, I wish to marry you at your earliest convenience.” Hank held his breath as he watched her look away and blink while she thought over his words. When she responded, her words came slowly.

  “I have decided my earliest convenience would be the Saturday after Thanksgiving, assuming Mr. Vaile is available to do the honors. I know it is a mail day, but perhaps after our friends come to check for their mail, they might wish to stay to witness a two o’clock wedding with a reception afterwards. Will that satisfy your sense of urgency, Mr. Cauley?”