House On Windridge

by Tracie Peterson

  Gus looked at the page and noted that Harriet had indeed outlined the cost for food, clothing, schooling, supplies, toys, furniture, and a nanny to assist Harriet. It all seemed perfectly reasonable, even if it was a pricey figure. Still, he thought, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be around to argue or protest Harriet’s judgment. He turned back to the first page of the letter and continued to read.

  If these things meet with your approval, then I will expect to receive the child whenever you deem yourself capable of delivering her.

  Gus breathed a sigh of relief. It was all falling into place.

  ❧

  Once he’d arrived at Windridge, Gus called Katie and Buck into the library and explained the situation.

  “I’m sending Jessica to her mother’s aunt in New York City,” he said flatly, without a hint of emotion in his voice. His emotions were dead. Dead and cold, just as she was.

  Katie spoke first. “What? How can you do this? I’m perfectly happy to bring her up for you, Mr. Gussop.”

  “Katie,” he replied, “you and Buck are about to begin your lives together. There’s no need to be saddling you with a ready-made family.”

  “But we don’t mind,” Katie insisted.

  “Honestly, Boss,” Buck added, and Gus would have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

  “This is how it’s going to be,” Gus stated, leaving no room for further protest. “The Flinthills is no place to raise a child. The desolation and isolation would be cruel. There’ll be no other children for her to grow up with, and the responsibilities of this ranch are enough to keep you both running from day to night. That is, unless you’d rather not stay on with me.” Gus watched their expressions of sorrow turned to disbelief.

  “Of course, we’ll stay on with you,” Katie replied.

  “Absolutely, Boss. We’re here to do our job, but more important, we’re here because we’re friends.”

  Gus nodded. He would leave them both a hefty chunk of money upon his death. They were faithful and loyal, and a man didn’t often find friends such as these.

  “I have a favor to ask,” he finally said. “I need Katie to take Jessica to New York. You can go along too, Buck. Act as her escort. Mrs. Nelson is expecting the child, and the sooner we get started on it, the better. I’ll go with you into town, and we’ll purchase train tickets. I’ll also draw out a substantial sum of money from the bank, and that will be your traveling money. I’ll wire another substantial amount directly to Mrs. Nelson’s bank account, so there will be no need for you to worry about carrying it with you. Will you do this for me?”

  Katie broke down and started to cry, and Buck put his arm around her. “Hardly seems like the kind of thing we could refuse,” he told Gus. “But I can’t leave Windridge right now. You know full well there’s too much work to be done. Those Texas steers will be coming our way in another month or two, and that last storm took out a whole section of fence. Not to mention the fact that we’re breaking six new stock horses. I can’t take the time away and stay on top of this as well.”

  “It’ll be here when you get back,” Gus assured him.

  “No, Sir,” Buck said emphatically. “Katie’s ma and brother can go along with her. If you’ll pay their ticket instead of mine, I’d be much obliged.”

  Gus didn’t like the idea but nodded in agreement. “If that’s the way you want it,” he told Buck.

  “It is.”

  ❧

  And so it was nearly a week later that Gus watched the carriage disappear down the long, winding Windridge drive. He felt strangely calm as he watched them go. He knew he’d done the right thing. The very best thing for all parties concerned. Jessica would grow up never knowing either parent, but she would be loved and cared for just as Naomi would have wanted.

  With a solemnity that matched the weight of the moment, Gus turned and stared at the house he’d created. Three stories of native limestone made a proud sentinel against the open prairie sky. It was her house—her home. She had loved it, and he had loved her. The memories were painful, and for the first time since she had died, Gus allowed himself to cry.

  At first, it was just a trickle of tears, and then a full rush of hot liquid poured from his eyes. He couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried, and so instead of trying, he simply made his way to the library and closed the door behind him. He thought for a moment to lock it but decided against it. Someone would have to come in and take care of the mess, and there was no sense in having them have to bust down the door and ruin the house in order to do so. The house would one day belong to Jessica, just as it had belonged to her mother. He wanted to keep it neat and orderly for her. He wanted to offer her at least this much of himself.

  He took a seat at his desk and pulled out his handkerchief. Wiping away the tears, Gus took out a piece of paper and began to pen a note of explanation for Buck. He’d already seen to his will when he’d gone into Cottonwood Falls for the train tickets. Everything would go to Jessica, with the exception of five thousand dollars, which was to be shared equally between Buck and Katie.

  But this letter was an apology. An apology for not having been stronger. An apology for the problems he would now heap on his dearest friend.

  I can’t go on without her. The pain of losing her is too much to bear alone. If you can see your way to staying on and keeping up the ranch on Jessica’s behalf, I would count it as my final earthly blessing. I have also arranged for you to be paid handsomely for the job. I just want you to know there was absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this. I did what I had to do.

  He signed the letter and left it to sit in the middle of his desk. He didn’t want Buck to have a bit of trouble locating it. Then with a final glance around the room, Gus reached into the desk drawer and pulled out his revolver.

  A knock on the library door caused him to quickly hide the gun back in its drawer. “Come in,” he called.

  Buck moseyed into the room as though nothing sorrowful had ever come to them. He held a pot of coffee in one hand and two cups in the other. “Thought you could use this just about now.”

  “I’m not thirsty,” Gus replied.

  “Well, then, use it to warm yourself.”

  “Ain’t cold, either.”

  Buck put the coffee down on top of the note Gus had just finished writing. He stared hard at Gus for a moment, then put the cups down and took a seat. “I can’t let you do it, Gus,” he said so softly that Gus had to strain to hear him. “I ain’t gonna let you die.”

  Gus stared at him in stunned surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know what you’re doing, and that’s why I didn’t go with Katie,” Buck said, quite frankly. “I know you’ve been putting your affairs in order, and I know why.”

  Gus said nothing. He couldn’t figure out how in the world Buck had known him well enough to expect this action.

  “See, I know what it is to lose someone you love. You probably don’t know this, but I was married a long time ago. I am, after all, thirteen years Katie’s senior. Anyway, my wife died. Died in childbirth, along with our son.”

  Gus shook his head. “I didn’t know that.”

  Buck nodded. “Well, it happened, and I would have followed her into the grave but for the ministerings of my ma. She knew how heartbroken I was. Sarah—that was my wife’s name—and I had been childhood sweethearts. We’d grown up side by side, and we’d always figured on marrying. My ma knew it would be like putting a part of myself in that grave, and she refused to leave me alone for even a moment’s time. And that’s what I intend to do for you.” He shifted back in the chair and crossed his leg to fumble with his boot for a moment.

  “See, I know you intend to kill yourself, Gus. But it isn’t the answer.”

  “I suppose you know what the answer is,” Gus replied sarcastically. He wanted Buc
k to storm out of the room and leave him be. He didn’t care if Buck hated him or called him names; he just wanted to forget everything and go to be with his Naomi.

  “I do know,” Buck replied. “God will give you the strength to get through this. You may not think so, but He will. I’m going to stay with you, pray with you, eat with you, and I’ll even sleep at the foot of your bed if it keeps you alive.”

  Gus gave up all pretense. “I don’t want to live. You should understand that.”

  “I do. But you’re needed here on earth. You have a little girl who needs you. You have friends who need you.”

  “I don’t want to be needed.”

  Again Buck nodded. “Neither did I, but I had no choice, and neither do you. Do you really want to leave that little girl with the guilt that she somehow caused her ma’s and pa’s deaths? It’s bad enough that she’ll have to live with the guilt of her mother dying, but hopefully, some kind person will teach her that it wasn’t her fault. But if you put a bullet through your head, she’ll be convinced it was her fault.”

  “That’s stupid. It wouldn’t have anything to do with her,” Gus answered.

  “You and I might know that, but she won’t. And, Gus, there won’t be a single person in this world who’ll be able to convince her otherwise.”

  Gus realized the truth in what Buck said. He felt his eyes grow warm with tears. “It hurts so bad to lose Naomi—to face a lifetime without her.”

  Buck nodded. “I know, and that’s why we aren’t going to face a lifetime. We’re just gonna take one day at a time. I’ll help you get through this, but you’ve got to be willing to try. For Jessica’s sake, if for no other.”

  Gus thought about it for a moment. He didn’t have the strength to do what Buck suggested, but neither did he want to burden his child—her child —with the idea that she was responsible for his death. “I just don’t know, Buck. When I think about the years to come—and I know that she won’t be there—it just isn’t something I want to deal with.”

  “I understand. But like I said, we don’t have to think about the years to come. We only have to get through today,” Buck replied. “And we’ll let tomorrow take care of itself.”

  In that moment Gus chose life over death. His heart was irreparably broken, but logic won over emotions. One day at a time, Buck said, was all he had to face. Just one day. If life proved to be too much today, he could always end it tomorrow.

  Chapter 1

  October 1890

  Jessica Albright wrapped her arms around her nine-month-old son and frowned at the dark-skinned porter. He held her small traveling bag and held out his arms to further assist her departure from the train.

  “If it pleases ya, Ma’am,” he said with a sincere smile, “I kin hold da baby and hand him down to ya.”

  “No,” Jessica replied emphatically. “No one is taking him.”

  The porter shrugged and then held up his hand. “I kin go ahead of ya. Then iffen you fall, ya’ll fall against me.” He smiled broadly and jumped down the steep steps ahead of her.

  Jessica had no choice but to follow. She gripped the baby firmly against her breast and made her way off the train. The nine month old howled at the injustice of being held so tightly, and Jessica could only jostle him around and try her best to cajole him back into a decent temperament.

  “Oh, Ryan, neither of us is happy with the arrangements,” she said, glancing from her son’s angry face to the crowd gathered around the depot platform.

  “Miss Jessica,” a voice sounded from behind her.

  Whirling around, Jessica met the smiling face of a snowy-haired man. “Hello, Buck. Thank you for coming after us. I’m sorry for having to put you out.”

  “Wasn’t any other way you were going to get there, short of hiring someone in town to bring you out. Besides, Katie would skin me alive if I refused. This your little guy?” he asked, nodding at the angry baby.

  Ryan continued to howl, and Jessica grew rather embarrassed from the stares. She felt so inadequate at being a mother. Where her friends in the city had spoken of natural feelings and abilities regarding their children, Jessica felt all thumbs and left feet. “Could we just be on our way, Buck?”

  Buck looked at her sympathetically. “Sure, sure. Let me claim your baggage, and we’ll be ready to head out.”

  “This here bag belongs to the missus,” the porter announced. Buck took up the bag, but Jessica quickly shifted the baby and reached out for it. “It has our personal things.” Buck nodded and let her take it without protest.

  “I’ll go for the rest.” He ambled off in the direction of the baggage car, and Jessica felt a sense of desertion. What if he forgot about her? What would she do then? She had very little money with her and even less ambition to figure out how to arrange transportation to her father’s Windridge Ranch. No, she thought, it was her ranch now. Her father had died, and there was nothing more to be said about the situation. Still, she’d only been here on three other occasions, and the last time was over five years ago. She’d never know which way to go if she had to figure a way home for herself.

  Ryan finally cried himself out and fell asleep, but not until his slobbers and tears had drenched the front of Jessica’s plum-colored traveling suit. She couldn’t do anything about it now, she realized. Aunt Harriet had always said that a lady was known by her appearance. Was her attire in order? Was her carriage and walk upright and graceful? Jessica felt neither properly ordered, nor upright and graceful. She felt hot and tired and dirty and discouraged.

  “Here we are. This all you brought?” Buck asked, one huge trunk hoisted on his back, a smaller trunk tucked under one arm, and a carpetbag dangling from his hand. He turned to include the young boy who followed after him with two additional suitcases.

  “Yes,” Jessica replied. “That’s everything.”

  Buck never condemned her for the multiple bags, never questioned why she’d needed to bring so much. Buck always seemed accepting of whatever came his way. Jessica didn’t know the man half as well as she would have liked to, but Buck was the kind of man she knew would have made a wonderful father.

  Buck stopped alongside a mammoth, stage-styled conveyance. Jessica watched, notably impressed, as Buck gently placed the trunk and bags up on the driver’s floor, then paused to hand her and Ryan up into the carriage. She arranged a pallet for Ryan by taking his blanket and one of the carriage blankets and spreading them out on the well-cushioned leather seats, while overhead Buck secured the baggage on top.

  The opulence and size of the carriage greatly impressed Jessica. No expense had been spared. In fact, it very much resembled an expensive stagecoach of sorts. The beautifully upholstered seats sported thick cushions, leaving Jessica with the desire to join Ryan in stretching out for her own nap. After four days on the most unaccommodating eastern trains, she found this a refreshing reprieve.

  Blankets were positioned on a rack overhead, as well as a lantern and metal box that she presumed held other supplies. Outside, she heard Buck instruct the boy to hand up his cases, then figured he must have tipped the boy for his actions when she heard the child let out a hearty, “Thanks, Mr. Buck.”

  “You all settled in there?” Buck called out, sliding a window open from where he was on the driver’s seat.

  Jessica thought the window ingenious and nodded enthusiastically. “I’m ready. The baby is already sleeping comfortably.”

  “All right, then. We’ll make for home. I know my Kate will be half beside herself for want of seeing you again.”

  Jessica smiled weakly and nodded. She could only wonder at what her reception might be when they learned she was coming to Windridge to stay.

  Since Buck had pulled shut the slide on the window, Jessica felt herself amply alone and reached inside her purse to pull out a letter. She’d only received the missive a week ago, but alre
ady it was wrinkled and worn. Kate had written to tell her of her father’s death. He’d suffered a heart attack, or so it was believed, and had fallen from his mount to his death. The doctor didn’t believe he suffered overmuch, and Jessica had been grateful for that.

  “We’d love to have you home, Jessie,” the letter read. Kate was the only one who had ever called her Jessie. “Windridge is never the same without you. Now with your father gone and what with the death of your own husband, we’d like to be a family to you. Please say you’ll come for a visit.”

  And she had come. She had telegraphed Kate before boarding the first available train, and now she was well on her way to Windridge.

  But what would she do after that?

  She stared out the window at the dead brown grass of the Flinthills. She had felt fascinated the first time she’d laid eyes on the place at the age of twelve. Her aunt Harriet had figured it was time for Jessica to make a visit to the place of her birth; and sent west with a most severe nanny, Jessica had had her first taste of the prairie and rolling hills where thousands of cattle grazed.

  And secretly, she had loved it. She loved the way she could stand atop Windridge when her nanny was otherwise preoccupied and let loose her hair ribbon and let the wind blow through her brown curls. She liked the feel of the warm Kansas sun on her face, even if it did bring her a heavy reprimand from her nanny. Freckled faces weren’t considered a thing of beauty, not even for a child.

  Now she looked across the vast openness and sighed. I’m like that prairie, she thought. Lonely and open, vulnerable to whatever may come. A hawk circled in the distance, and Jessica absently wondered what prey he might be seeking. It could possibly be a rabbit or a mouse, maybe even a wounded bird or some other sort of creature.

  “Poor things,” she whispered. Life on the prairie was hard. Often it came across as cruel and inhumane, but nevertheless, it continued. It went on and on whether people inhabited the land or died and were buried beneath its covering.