by Vivi Holt
Her eyes flitted open and she smiled when she saw him. “Good morning, Ranger Sanchez,” she croaked.
He laughed. “Are you ready for a hot breakfast?”
Her eyes widened. “Ooh, can I have pancakes?”
“It is your silver, Mrs. Velden. Order what you like.” He chuckled and fastened his gun belt around his hips. He’d cleaned both pistols and his shotgun the previous evening, and all three weapons lay on a table against the wall. He holstered the pistols and reached for the shotgun.
“What will we do once this dollar is spent?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I will ask about work here in Mason and every place after. We will figure it out.”
She frowned, looking unconvinced.
He donned his brown Stetson over his sweat-stiff bandana. “I will check on Hans and Lars while you wash up and dress. I will meet you downstairs.” She nodded, and he headed out the door.
Downstairs, he went to the front desk where the manager stood, his gray hair combed over a bald patch on top of his head and his spectacles perched on the end of his nose. “Goot mornin’ zere, Seen-yore Sanchez. Everyzing all right for you?”
Antonio smiled. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Glebe. I was wondering if you could tell me where to find a good breakfast. I think I could eat a stack of pancakes as big as my head.”
Mr. Glebe laughed, a high-pitched chuckle. “Yes, sir. The cafeteria zree doors down serves a decent pancake.” He pointed toward the hotel’s front doors.
“And one more thing, por favor – is there a Catholic church in town?”
Mr. Glebe scratched his bald spot. “Zere is indeed. Take ze alley beside ze hotel, zen follow it until you reach an intersection. Turn left and follow it three blocks, and you’ll see ze steeple on your right. You should find it easily – Mason isn’t big enough to get lost in.” Another cackle.
“Gracias, señor.” Antonio doffed his hat and walked out.
Hans and Lars were happy as larks in the livery stable. He could see they’d spent the night on their sides in the fresh hay, since some of it was still attached to their coats. When he arrived with buckets of oats and fresh bales of hay for them to eat, they greeted him with soft nickers and snorts of delight, before nuzzling directly into the oats. He sighed, wishing he could be as untroubled as his steeds were.
When Lotte was dressed, she packed her things back into the saddlebags, then waited in the room for Antonio to return. When he did, they left their things at the front desk and he offered her his arm as they exited the hotel. She put her hand through the crook of his arm with a smile. It felt right to walk by his side. He was strong and good, and she knew he cared about her. It had been only two months since they met, but she felt like she’d known him her whole life. They walked in comfortable silence.
The streets of Mason were quiet now. She considered what she’d seen after they’d rented their room. She’d perched on the end of the bed and watched through the window as the rabble of farmers and cowboys made their way back into town, the two dead men carried behind them in a wagon. They’d left the bodies on the front steps of the courthouse and disbanded, their bloodlust finally sated.
“Here is the cafeteria Mr. Glebe mentioned. He said it serves pancakes.” Antonio pushed open the front door and a bell jingled above their heads. Locals stopped eating to glance in their direction, staring longer than they should.
Lotte swallowed hard and took a quick breath. “I could eat just about anything, but pancakes do sound good. I know they won’t be Oma's poffertjes, but hopefully they will be tasty enough for now.”
He grinned. “Perhaps you can make those for me sometime.”
“I would love to.” She felt almost giddy – they were in town, had eaten a hearty supper the previous night, slept in a real bed and now were having breakfast at a restaurant. She was reveling in the luxuriousness of it all. Too bad it couldn’t last, but she’d savor the moment for as long as she could.
After breakfast, she jingled the last of their money in her skirt pocket, a dime and a nickel. How long would that last? They’d already stocked up on beans, corned beef, jerky, soda crackers and flour. She grimaced at the thought of more beans for supper, but it couldn’t be helped. Once they made it to Montana Territory, she’d pass on the beans for a while. She climbed onto Lars’ back and settled into the small saddle, took up the reins and followed Antonio and Hans down the street. “Tell me again about Paradise Ranch.”
Antonio slowed Hans’ pace until he loped beside Lars. “What do you want to know?”
She smiled. “Tell me about the food.”
“Oh, the food is good. Cookie can cook up a storm if he decides to, and Genny is as good a cook as you’ll find. She was not so much at first, but she learned. She is a wonderful lady …” He trailed off.
Her mouth watered as she pictured the spread of food. “Mmmm … I can’t wait. How long do you think it will take us to get there?” She felt impatient to be at the end of their journey – one night sleeping on a mattress and eating good food and she could think of nothing else.
Antonio mumbled something beneath his breath and urged Hans ahead, down the alley beside the hotel.
“Hey, why did we turn down this way?” she asked. When he didn’t respond, she kicked Lars in the ribs. “Come on.” The donkey shook its ears and kept on plodding, and she sighed. “Antonio, where are we going?”
He didn’t reply for a few blocks, then pulled Hans to a stop and pointed to a stone building with a tall steeple. She arched an eyebrow. “Another Catholic church? Feeling like confessing some sins?”
He shrugged. “You can wait here if you like. I’ll just be in there a moment.”
“Fine, I will stay with Hans and Lars. You go and confess.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But please do not say anything about the teamster. Just in case.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
Lotte dismounted, took Hans’ reins and leaned back against Lars’ side as Antonio went inside. She whistled a tune while she waited, then frowned. Perhaps she should go inside as well. She wasn’t Catholic, but her pastors had always taught her that God was everywhere. She tied both animals to a hitching post and climbed the stairs to the church doors.
As she opened a door a crack, she heard Antonio’s voice – and stopped in her tracks. “… Her husband was killed, and her aunt and uncle. She is alone and has no one to care for her.”
Another, older voice replied, “We do have a boarding house on the edge of town that takes widows and orphans in needy situations. It sounds to me like she might need that kind of help.”
She gasped and covered her mouth.
“The priest back in Laredo told me you might take her. That is why we came to Mason.”
“Well, she’s lucky to have a friend like you, Mr. Sanchez. Now, if you wait a few moments, I’ll fetch the buggy and meet you out front. I can take you over there now and introduce the two of you to the house mother.”
Antonio’s voice was low when he spoke again. “Thank you, padre.”
“Of course, my son. Just wait out front – I won’t be long.”
Lotte turned and ran down the stairs, almost tripping on the last one. Her breathing was ragged and her heart raced. After everything they’d been through together, he was still trying to get rid of her. He didn’t want her with him. He wasn’t taking her to Paradise Valley. And he wouldn’t even say it to her face!
She tugged his provisions bag from her saddlebags, shared out a portion of the food, then stuffed the rest of her things into it and slung it over her shoulder. She ran down the street, ducking into the back door of an apothecary. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she went through the store, out the front door and down the main street. She saw Antonio riding by, and ducked into the dentist’s office until he was out of sight.
“Can I help you, Miss?” asked a man dressed in a black suit and tie.
“No, thank you.” She pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket, wiped the tears from he
r cheeks and blew her nose. She’d been naive to believe Antonio felt something for her and would take her home with him to Paradise Valley. There was no way she’d consider staying at a boarding house for widows, not after spending half her childhood in places like that. Not after having her dignity and innocence stripped away by someone who was supposed to protect her.
She sniffed and blinked the last of the tears away. Time she struck out on her own. Clearly she was the only person she could trust.
Antonio stood in the stirrups and scanned the horizon. Where could she have gotten to? He’d ridden all around Mason, searched every street and alley, returned to the church and the hotel, but she was nowhere to be seen. He cursed beneath his breath – she must have overheard his conversation with the priest and ran.
He thought she’d come around – she’d said she didn’t want to stay in an institution, but the place the priest described sounded more like a home, where people who needed help could find it. He’d just wanted to give her a chance to see it — so she could decide what she wanted to do.
He sighed and pulled his hat low over his eyes. He’d blown it. She was gone, and he had no way of knowing where. He tugged on the rope, and Lars trotted a few steps to catch up with the taller Hans. He wished she’d at least taken the donkey – she’d left him and almost everything else behind, taking only a few supplies and her own things.
Antonio peered at the road in front of him as Hans clip-clopped down the hard dirt track, and saw a set of small bootprints forming a straight line north. He’d spent hours in Mason trying to find her – but perhaps he’d been looking in the wrong place.
8
Paradise Valley
Dan’s heart lurched at the sight of the cottage in the juniper grove. The last time he’d visited, it had been home to a very sick woman and her baby. He wondered what he’d discover this time. He dismounted and left Goldy to graze in a clearing on the banks of the Yellowstone, then headed to the front door.
He’d barely rapped on the wooden frame when the door opened and he found himself staring into the dark brown eyes of a very pretty young woman. “Well … good mornin’,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow. “Good morning.”
“I just came to check on you. I’m the one what found you and the baby last week, and fetched the doc for you. You remember me?”
She shook her head, but her frown was replaced with a relieved smile. “Oh, then come on in. I’m so grateful to you, sir.” She spoke with a lilting English accent.
“Name’s Dan Graham. You can just call me Dan.” He stepped inside and took off his hat, twirling it nervously in his hands.
“I’m Dolly. And this here is Emily.” Dolly pointed to the child playing quietly on a rug in the center of the room. The baby’s face was full of healthy color, and one small hand fussed with a pinecone in front of her.
“You two are lookin’ mighty fine,” said Dan.
She smiled. “Thanks to you.”
“I just did what needed to be done. How’d you two happen to be out here all alone that way?”
She frowned and gestured toward the kitchen table. “Won’t you take a seat? I’ll make us some tea and tell you all about it.”
He nodded and sat, watching her stoke a fire in the small stove and set a teapot on it to boil.
She spoke while she worked. “I came here with my husband Paul. He wanted to mine up at Alder Gulch, and left me pretty much to my own devices. He was consumed by it – certain he’d strike it rich, then we could go back home to Derbyshire rich and successful. He wanted to show off to his folks. I didn’t have the same desire, but he called the shots, as he liked to remind me often.”
Dan’s face must have colored as he thought about what he’d like to do to a man who’d leave his family in that condition. But she smiled and said, “Oh, we loved each other, don’t think otherwise. He wasn’t always thoughtful, but he loved me and I him. We couldn’t rightly live without each other.”
Dan nodded, but inside his blood still boiled.
“Well, when he didn’t find gold in Alder Gulch, he had a mind to try here. He thought it would be the perfect place for gold, though there weren’t many panning in this area. So he built us this cottage. I fell pregnant and he was happy as a new colt.” She used a rag to pull the teapot from the stove top and poured the hot brew into two tin cups, handing one to Dan.
“Thank you kindly,” he said, taking it and setting it on the table to cool.
She sat beside him, her hands around her cup and her eyes fixed on something distant he couldn’t see. “But he fell ill soon after the baby came. When he died, he left us all alone out here – no money, not much in the way of food, only enough firewood to get us through the winter just …”
Dan’s throat tightened. He should’ve known no man would leave such a pretty wife and baby alone if he could help it.
“So there you have it. We were doing all right, but I wasn’t sure what to do once the money and the food were gone. Then I came down with that fever. I did all I could, but …” She ran a hand over her face, then looked at Dan. “As I said, I’m so grateful you came along when you did. I don’t know if Emily would’ve made it much longer.”
“Doc said she wouldn’t have lasted the night,” murmured Dan.
Her face blanched as she watched her daughter play. “Oh, I durst not think about it.”
He nodded. “All’s well now, though, I hope. And I brought food and supplies.”
She tipped her head to the side. “You mean more?”
“Sure. I thought you might need some things – I knew the groceries I brought when the doc was here wouldn’t last more than a week, so I rode into Bozeman and got some extra. It’s all outside in my saddlebags. Genny – she’s the owner’s wife over on the ranch where I’m head cowpuncher – she insisted on sending a few things as well. So you should be set for a while.”
She smiled and swallowed hard. “I can’t thank you enough, Dan Graham.”
He studied her face as he took a sip of tea. “Do you have family ‘round these parts?”
She shook her head. “No, they’re all back in England.”
He frowned. “Perhaps you should move into town.”
Her nostrils flared. “But what would we do there – beg? Steal? No, this is our home. It’s not much, but it’s ours.” She lifted her cup to her lips.
“I can understand that. But I hope you don’t mind if I keep checking in on you every so often.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She smiled and caught his gaze. Her brown eyes twinkled and took his breath away.
The dainty boot tracks seemed to stop and shuffle around. And there were other marks as well – larger boots, hoof-prints, wagon tracks. Antonio stared down at the road from atop Hans and frowned. It looked like a group of travelers had joined the road. He glanced northward and noticed a thin smoke cloud up ahead.
The sun had hidden itself behind a bank of clouds near the horizon and soon the countryside would be bathed in darkness. He’d hoped to find a creek to camp beside. But while he was in no mood to chat with strangers, he really should check on that group. No doubt they’d ask him to join them, the last thing he wanted – being alone suited him just fine for now.
But had Lotte joined them? He couldn’t say for sure that the boot tracks he’d been following were hers. And if she had joined them, she likely didn’t want to see him – she’d made that clear by running off the way she had without even talking to him first.
He dismounted and led Hans and Lars off the road behind a row of mesquite and a grove of oaks. He unsaddled them, brushed them down and picketed them in a small field. By the time he had a campfire lit, the sun had set, and he lay back against his saddle with his hands behind his head, staring into the leaping flames.
The campsite was quiet. Too quiet. He was a man who’d grown accustomed to his own company with his family so far away. Days and nights on the trail with a herd of longhorns had become a way of life for him. But L
otte had changed all that. He found he missed her conversation, her laughter, her bright smile.
He sighed and sat up, resting his arms on his knees, and pulled Maria’s chain from his pocket. The silver necklace gleamed in the firelight, and he ran the tip of one finger over the inscription. Mi Amor. It felt like so long since he’d given Maria the necklace, since he’d held her in his arms … it was as though she was a wisp of mist in the predawn light, the memory fading into nothing when the sun struck it …
He put the necklace back in his pocket, reached for a long stick and stoked the fire. When the flames died down, he set some beans to heat in the coals and mixed together flour and water with a dash of salt to make tortillas. He’d have to find work soon if he wanted to continue eating, maybe at the next town. It wouldn’t make sense to pass through Indian Territory without enough food, or money to buy more, when he made it to Kansas.
A shout reverberated over the plains, and he sat up with a start. The noise was followed by a faint holler and whoop, then another shout. He frowned. It sounded like a bunch of gringos in the group ahead of him had too much whiskey and were letting loose. He was glad he’d kept to himself.
He ate in silence, listening to the hoot of an owl, the rustle of a creature in the mesquite and the steady munching of grass as Hans and Lars enjoyed their supper. He took swig of water from his canteen, downing most of its contents in one go. He had two more canteens, and the animals needed a drink, so he carried them to Hans and Lars, filled his hat with water and let them drink their fill. Now he had only enough water to last through breakfast – he’d have to refill them all when he reached the next water supply.
He brushed his teeth, kicked dirt over the waning fire and turned in for the night. As he lay on his bedroll, he stared through the oak leaves above him to the stars beyond and thought about his family, gone all this time and he hadn’t known it. He pondered Lotte and her loss and how she’d come tumbling into his life by accident on the side of a Texas road. How together they had helped to heal each other. And how, thanks to his bumbling, she was gone.