Everett

by Christine Sterling

  When Annamae didn’t answer immediately, he moved closer. Polly saw the young woman shrink in front of her father.

  “No, Pa,” she whispered just loud enough to hear.

  Randall moved closer and lifted his hand, slapping Annamae across the cheek. Annamae let forth a cry and Polly could see the imprint of her father’s hand on her pale skin. He moved his arm up to strike again when Sawyer grabbed it and pushed the man away from Annamae.

  “You do that again,” he growled, “and you’ll have to answer to me and every man in the barn.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do with my kin. They were only here to see the devil’s spawn.” Randall ripped his hand from Sawyer. “Where is the boy?” His eyes moved quickly around the room until he spied Hart clinging to Alice’s leg. “Well, I’ll be. He looks just like his mother. She didn’t deserve to live, and neither does this boy. I won’t get no rest until Evangeline and her children are eradicated from the Earth.”

  Randall pumped the shotgun and aimed at Alice and Hart. Polly heard Marmee and Mrs. Hartman yell at the same time.

  Suddenly a shot echoed in the barn. Randall looked stunned as a red stain appeared in the middle of his shirt.

  “I couldn’t let you do that, Pa,” Chat said. “You can beat us all you want, but I ain’t gonna have you shoot a child.”

  Randall collapsed to the floor and a gargled sound came from his mouth. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he spat his final words towards Chat. “You ain’t my boy,” he growled before closing his eyes.

  Marshall Briggs moved forward. “I’m going to need that gun, Chat.”

  Chat spun the gun on his finger and handed it to the Marshal. “I was preventing him from shooting Alice and Hart.”

  “I know,” the Marshal said. “And you have all these witnesses to say so. It’s just a formality. Stop by the jail tomorrow so we can file a report and send it off to the judge.”

  A murmur went through the crowd. The Marshal walked over to Mrs. Hartman. “I’m sorry, Verna. I’ll get the wagon and we can bury him in the morning.”

  “Don’t mean nothing if you do. He had a heart so black, no light could get through.”

  Polly tried to process everything she had seen. It was too much. Just too much. She stole a glance at Everett and then turned on her heel and ran towards the house.

  Chapter 10

  Polly couldn't believe that her best friend was getting married. All the ranch hands, apart from the few that were in the field, were gathered in the large barn closest to the house. The dirt floor was covered with fresh, clean straw, and the remnants of the terrible incident the night before had been cleaned up.

  The wedding had been postponed by one day to allow everyone to recover and for Randall Hartman to be buried. The only Chapmans attending his funeral were Mr. and Mrs. Chapman and Alice.

  Polly held a bouquet of brightly colored leaves tied in a ribbon, which she would give to Ellie as soon as her friend emerged from the house. Lydia, Hart and Annamae collected the leaves from down by the creek. Hart was extremely proud of his contribution to the wedding.

  Polly hopped from one foot to the other. It was cold, and her wrap was at the far end of the barn where Owen and the preacher stood.

  She peeked inside the barn. The straw bales had been arranged into rows and the men were scattered between them. At the front she could see Marmee sitting on one of the bales. Alice, Marianne, and Penny were sitting next to her. On the other side sat Owen's brothers and their wives.

  Annamae sat in the row behind the Chapman brothers. Polly watched as Annamae leaned forward to whisper something in Everett’s ear. Everett laughed and Polly closed her eyes, counting to five. Taking a deep breath, she gently exhaled and opened her eyes, continuing to scan the faces.

  Verna Hartman sat with Tot towards the door. The cook hadn't taken his eyes from her since he saw her at the dance. He must have said something to her, as Verna brought a handkerchief to her face and nodded her head.

  Polly glanced back to the front row. As she looked back at the brothers, she noticed Everett staring at her. His deep eyes didn't give away anything he was thinking.

  He hadn't said anything about her leaving. It had always been her plan to leave after the wedding, and now it appeared there wasn't any reason for her to stay. She broke eye contact, unable to gaze upon the man that had broken her heart.

  Finally!

  The slam of the front door could be heard, and Ellie appeared, escorted by Weston. Polly gave a little gasp. She had seen Ellie in her dress already. In fact, she helped her get ready for the wedding. But to see Ellie, the girl she had known since childhood, coming down the steps towards the barn made Polly want to break down and sob.

  Ellie's dress fit perfectly, and her hair was in ringlets that took Polly several hours with a hot rod to take shape. On Ellie's head she wore a small silver tiara holding her veil in place. That was the something borrowed, as Polly's mother had sent it for Ellie to use. Polly would return it when she arrived back home.

  Marmee gave Ellie a sixpence to put in her left shoe to bring luck to the newly married couple. It was the same coin Marmee's mother gave to Marmee when she got married. Polly had never heard of such a custom, but it was popular in Ireland, where Marmee's family was from.

  Weston was dressed in his finest suit with a ribbon tied at the neck. He held onto Ellie's arm as they walked across the yard to the large building. When they arrived at the large door, Polly pulled Ellie into a hug.

  "I can't believe you are actually getting married. What took you so long to get out here?"

  "Oh Polly," Ellie said, taking the leaf bouquet from her. "I am feeling so sick."

  "Good sick, or bad sick?"

  "Good sick, I think. I'm so nervous," Ellie whispered.

  "All thoughts will leave once you start walking towards Owen."

  "How does he look?"

  "Very handsome, indeed," Polly assured her friend.

  "Oh my," Ellie fretted. "I'm afraid I might faint."

  "Don't you dare, Elenore Elizabeth." Polly adjusted Ellie's veil. "You'll be fine. Start walking and just smile."

  "No one can see me under this veil."

  Polly gave a little giggle. "Owen will know if you are smiling. Just walk down there to your beloved."

  Ellie nodded. Weston had stepped inside the barn to signal the preacher they were about to enter.

  "It's time, Ellie Beth," Weston said softly.

  Ellie nodded. She gave Polly's hand a squeeze as they entered the barn. Polly slipped in behind them and walked down the far side of the rows, sliding next to Penny at the front. As everyone watched Ellie, Polly's eyes were on Owen.

  His jaw was tight, and she could see the glistening of tears in his eyes.

  Polly felt relief as she knew her friend was marrying the best of men. Looking at Owen, there was no doubt of his feelings towards Ellie. Pulling out her handkerchief, Polly dabbed her eyes.

  She heard Marmee sniffle and Polly tried not to laugh. The moment was broken for her. She turned to watch Ellie walk down the last few steps and she saw Everett glancing her way, his lips pressed into a thin line. Where Owen appeared to be clenching his jaw not to show emotion, Polly could see annoyance written on Everett’s face. Instead of being angered, Polly felt desire pool in her belly. She tried to push it aside as Ellie took her place next to Owen.

  Everyone sat down as the preacher began the ceremony. Polly tried to concentrate on the words instead of the man watching her from the other side of the barn.

  The dark sky matched her mood. The air had turned, and the temperature was dropping. A light cold drizzle fell from the sky and Polly thought it would become snow by nightfall. She pulled her wrap tighter around her trying to block some of the wind whipping through town. Occasionally, the wind would sneak under her skirt causing the fabric to balloon and Polly to gasp as the cold air hit her legs.

  She was grateful that Ellie insisted she wear the flannel pantaloons home. Wiping th
e tears with a gloved hand, she waited for the boarding call to climb into the stagecoach. Although she didn’t know why. There was no one waiting but her. She would take the stagecoach to Grand Platte and then leave on the evening train headed back east.

  She hopped from foot to foot, willing some warmth into her legs. They would need to leave soon if she were to make the train leaving later that night. Otherwise she’d have to wait until the following morning. She had paid for a sleeping berth. She would rather sleep on the train, than at a hotel in a town she didn’t know.

  The stagecoach driver was trying to secure her trunks to the roof of the cabin and Oliver was helping him from the ground. Rain dropped from their coats and the brim of their hats.

  Polly didn’t know why the driver just didn’t put the trunks inside the coach. It wasn’t as if anyone was riding with her. No one, it seemed, made the ride to Flat River.

  Ellie wanted to travel into town to see Polly off, but Polly insisted she stay at home. It was too cold for her friend to travel. She watched as the drizzle turned into light rain. She hoped the stage wouldn’t get stuck on the way to Grand Platte.

  She had hoped Everett would drive her to town, but he disappeared that morning without so much as saying goodbye. Polly wasn’t surprised. He didn’t speak to her at the wedding reception.

  Polly knew that she would soon get a letter from Ellie telling her that Everett had married Annamae and that they were going on to build a family. Polly couldn’t bear the thought, so she asked Oliver to take her town.

  Hart was disappointed that he couldn’t go along for the ride, but Lydia didn’t want him to risk a fever as the cold rain was threatening to fall. Polly promised the young lad that she would send a letter specifically for him when she posted one to Ellie.

  “All done,” the driver said, tugging once more on the ropes.

  Oliver stepped from the side of the stage and opened the door. Polly took a quick breath and stepped from the mercantile platform onto the hard ground. She skipped through the drizzle and placed a basket on the seat.

  Marmee had packed the basket for her, filling it with sandwiches, apples, some hard cheese, a loaf of bread, and even a jar of apple butter for the trip. She wanted to make sure Polly wouldn’t go hungry on the five-day journey.

  She tried to tell Marmee it wasn’t necessary, that she could buy her own meals, but Marmee insisted she take the basket. Marmee even wrapped Polly in a hug, kissing her cheek and inviting her back to visit. She heard Marmee give a little sob as she released Polly to say her goodbyes to the rest of the women.

  Polly knew right then how much she was going to miss the Chapmans.

  They had taken her into their home and treated her like one of their own. She realized the exact feeling that Ellie tried to describe in her letters. For a little over three weeks, she was one of them. She was a beloved daughter, a friend, a sister.

  Ellie promised to write and made Polly promise to send a letter as soon as she arrived home. Polly made the promise, and she would start her letter on the train ride East.

  Turning to Oliver, she wiped her hair from her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  “It was my pleasure, Polly.” He leaned forward and gave Polly a slight hug. Not too tight, more like what a brother would give. Polly’s heart lurched. She was headed back to be an only child, and she didn’t have any siblings to comfort her.

  “Tell everyone I said goodbye and I’ll be sure to send a telegram as soon as I arrive home.” Oliver nodded. “And thank Marmee again for the basket. I know my mother will love the apple butter.” She bit her lip, trying not to say the words that were on her tongue. Holding back the question that had been on her mind all morning – why was Everett avoiding her?

  Oliver must have read her mind. “He’s a fool, you know.” There was no doubt who Oliver was referring to.

  “Well, I can’t do anything about that.”

  Oliver stared at her. He had the same dark eyes as his brothers. “Promise you’ll come back and visit?”

  Polly shook her head. “It is a long trip, and I don’t think I can be away from my parents for that long.”

  Oliver took her hand and assisted her into the coach. “I’m glad you were able to visit,” he said, shutting the door.

  Polly put her hand on the small window in the door. “Me too. I’ll never forget this trip.”

  He looked as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. Instead he gave a nod and hit the side of the stage twice. The stagecoach lurched forward and then built up speed heading away from town.

  She rocked on the seat as she looked out the window. The driver seemed to deliberately hit every rut or hole in the ground. Polly knew she should lower the covering to keep the rain out, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the landscape as the stagecoach raced forward.

  They eventually passed the bridge covering the creek. Polly recognized the spot as being just outside the Chapman ranch.

  She could still feel the warmth of Everett’s arms around her. When he jumped off Shadow and insisted he would walk her to town, she knew that he wasn’t as unaffected as he seemed. She played every interaction through her mind, seeking some clue of what Everett was feeling.

  She realized by the end of her stay that she was in love with the broody cowboy. Maybe she should have just told him? Maybe he wouldn’t marry Annamae and would ask her to stay. But he did none of those things. As all the maybes raced through her mind, the stage raced past pastures filled with cows.

  As she saw the longhorns, she knew they were at the end of the Chapman property. Several cowboys stood in their saddle and waved as the coach went past. Polly put her hand up, waving goodbye. As the ranch disappeared in the distance, Polly lowered the window covering, putting her head in her hands, and cried.

  Two weeks later, Atlanta, Georgia

  “Pollyanna, you should be glad you are home.”

  Polly turned from her seat by the window. She had been trying to read the latest Beadle novel, but the words held no interest for her. Instead, she looked out the window at the people racing back and forth in the rain.

  November was such a bleak month. The day after she arrived home, she went to see Mrs. Bailey to return the cookbook with all of Polly’s notes in the margin. The kind woman told Polly to keep it. Polly was so touched, she couldn’t speak. She simply hugged Mrs. Bailey and ran from the store.

  “I am glad, Momma. I was just missing Ellie.” She uncurled her legs from beneath her. Giving one last glance to the dreary weather outside, she moved to a chair across from her mother.

  “Have some tea, dear. I have leftover biscuits from breakfast, and I put a little bit of the apple butter in a dish.” Mrs. Phillips looked worried as she poured tea in a cup. She added a sugar cube and a splash of milk before handing the cup to Polly.

  Polly stirred the tea and then poured a bit on her saucer. Swirling it in the saucer until it cooled, she drank it down and then replaced the cup. It was a habit she had grown up with. Her father did it with coffee, her mother did it with tea.

  She never saw the Chapmans do it though. They didn’t have china cups. Everything was enamelware or cast iron. What she would give to have a cup of coffee that had been brewing on the stove all day. By the time everyone came in for supper, it could be as thick as tar. They just thinned it out with a little water and added some hard sugar if necessary.

  Mrs. Phillips picked up a biscuit and cut it open. She slathered both sides with apple butter and handed one half of the biscuit to Polly. Polly noticed her hands were shaking as she took the treat from her mother.

  Mrs. Phillips bit into her biscuit with relish. “Oh, this is wonderful. It is incredibly good if you can get past the appearance. It almost looks like mud. I don’t think I’ll share it with your father, though.” She took another bite. “No thank you, this will be my private jar. Pollyanna?” Polly looked at her mother. “What’s wrong, dearest?”

  Polly put her cup down. She tried to bite into the biscui
t, but as she looked at the apple butter, memories of paring and cleaning the apples flooded her mind. Images of Everett laughing filled her thoughts and a fat tear fell into the sweet spread.

  “Oh, Momma,” she cried. She put the biscuit next to her tea and put her face in her hands. The tears were coming faster now, and she was having difficulty breathing. She felt her mother’s hands tugging her to a standing position.

  “Come to the sofa, child,” she said, assisting Polly to the large cushion. Mrs. Phillips sat next to her daughter and pulled Polly to her chest. “Let it out, Polly,” she said softly, rocking Polly back and forth.

  Polly was comforted, as this was the way her mother cared for her anytime Polly was upset growing up. Not much affected her, but this was like a bubble burst forth. When her crying subsided into sniffles, Polly just sat, taking comfort in her mother’s arms.

  “Why couldn’t he love me, Momma?”

  “You mean your cowboy?” Polly nodded against her mother’s neck. Mrs. Phillips leaned Polly back. “Maybe he wasn’t ready for you, my darling.” Moving Polly’s hair to the side she planted a kiss against her forehead. “Perhaps you are just too strong for him.”

  “I didn’t try to be.”

  “Phillips women can be intimidating.” She rose from the sofa and lifted Polly’s feet. “Lie down for a bit and I’ll get a cool rag for your head.” Polly nodded and she heard her mother leave the room. Polly closed her eyes and listened for her mother to return.

  She heard a knock on the door and two voices talking softly, before the door closed again. Footsteps came into the room and Polly felt the cool rag against her head.

  “I think your mother would be appalled if I sat on her beautiful sofa in my wet coat,” a deep voice said over her.

  Polly’s eyes jumped open. Was she dreaming? She leaned up a bit and reached out to see if he was real. He was. Like a dream, he was standing in front of her. His dark eyes lingering over her. He had a scruff of a beard and his hair was plastered to his head from the rain.