by Caroline Lee
“I know.”
“And that first Christmas, that was like a new beginning.”
“Yeah.”
Another long silence, during which they could hear Molly walking around upstairs, murmuring to the boys. Then Nate cleared his throat. “Remember how Wendy read that poem? What was its name…?” As if he couldn’t recall. As if he didn’t remember every aspect of that first holiday with her.
“About St. Nicholas visiting? I remember that you half wanted to believe it.”
“Yeah.” That Christmas Eve, sitting around this fireplace, Molly and Wendy had introduced the Barker brothers to traditions and history they’d never known. The house had been beautifully decorated, and was finally a home. It was filled with laughter and teasing and love, the way a home should be. And the next Christmas had been even more meaningful, because they’d grown to love each other. And the ones after that, and all the holidays until Wendy had left. Since then, the holidays—especially Christmas—seemed empty.
“So what are you going to do about her?”
Nate turned to Ash, but the older man was still staring at the fire. Sometimes it was nice having a brother who understood what he was thinking, without having to talk about it. Other times it was plain creepy.
“What makes you think…?”
Ash snorted and gave Nate a look that said he shouldn’t have to ask. “Because you’ve been sulking worse than usual today. Because I saw Cam talking to you on the porch. Because you always get like this around holidays… since Wendy left.”
“Cam says I’ve gotta figure out what I want from life, and then figure out how to get it.”
“He’s right.”
“And he says that if I don’t want her to be part of my life, I’ve gotta let her go, and get on with my future.”
“Yep.” His brother’s slow drawl was usually a comfort, but tonight it just irritated Nate. He wanted Ash to tell him what to do, like a big brother should. “So what do you want?”
“I don’t know!”
“Shhhh!” Both brothers’ heads turned at Molly’s warning, to see her coming down the back stairs. “Don’t you dare wake those two up!” She glared, but Nate knew it was just for show.
Nate and Ash had enclosed the loft the winter after the Murray sisters joined their family. The two younger girls had moved up there, but when Nate moved to his own house, Wendy took his old room. Now Annie and Rose stayed in his room, and the boys were in the loft. So much had changed in the last eight years—had it really been only eight years?—that it was sometimes hard to remember what it had been like when it was just the two brothers.
Molly crossed to the hearth, and rumpled Nate’s hair in passing, like she used to do when he was younger. She perched on the arm of Ash’s chair, and then gave a squeal when he pulled her onto his lap. Molly wasn’t small, but Ash was the biggest man Nate had ever seen, so they were well-matched.
“What are you two down here arguing about?”
“Not arguing, wife. Just saying what a fine dinner that was that you fixed today.”
“Yeah, Molly.” Nate dipped his chin in tribute. “You out-did yourself. Thanks for your hard work.”
His sister-in-law was blushing slightly when she smacked Ash’s chest with a smile. “Oh stop it, you two.”
“You don’t believe us?” Nate’s brother tried to look innocent, but that just made his wife smile more.
“Well, thank you, then.” She turned another mock-glare on Nate. “But don’t lie to me. I’m a confirmed matron, you know, and that gives me the chance to meddle. And I’m a good meddler, when it comes to making sure my loved ones get the Happily Ever Afters that they deserve.”
Ash grinned then, another quick flash of white amid the dark beard. “Nate’s trying to decide what he wants to do about your sister.”
Nate winced and dropped his forehead into one hand, smothering a groan. Why did his brother have to be so forthright?
But Molly’s smile was sincere and full of affection. “Good! It’s about time!” Peeking out at her, Nate saw her expression soften. “Oh, Nate. You know that I love her, but she made her choice when she went off. I love you just as much, and you’re here, being miserable. You deserve the chance to make a choice about your future, your happiness. Like she made hers. I want you to be happy too.”
Almost four years ago, Wendy had surprised them all by announcing that she wanted to move back east, back to a city like the one she’d grown up in. Only Nate knew that she wanted to write books that might be considered scandalous, especially by a female author. She hadn’t even told Serena that. So in the spring, three years before, the entire family had ridden to Cheyenne to put her on a train heading to St. Louis, where she’d obtained a job as a literature teacher for a high school. Nate could have told her that despite her strength and determination, it was a mistake to take on an entire classroom of boys. She didn’t have the patience to tangle with a whole passel of kids, and soon quit to become a tutor for a family with one deaf child.
And for those first two years, she’d written to him every week. Nate—or Ash, or one of the hands—traveled into town once a week to pick up the mail, and drop off their letters to Wendy. He’d never been a real reader until he’d met her, but Wendy taught him to love adventure stories as much as she did. And he’d never been a writer until she left, but he quickly learned to pour out everything—the happenings, the gossip, his past, his feelings—onto paper for her. They had a special bond, and even though he hadn’t seen her since the spring of ’80, he’d felt that they were closer than ever.
If he hadn’t been in love with her when she’d left, he’d sure as hell realized it after a year of writing to her.
And he also realized that he would never be what she deserved. She needed city life to stimulate her, and to make a difference in the wider world. She needed someplace where she could really experience life… and what could he offer her? The same damn ranch where she’d spent years, and a half-breed bastard who loved her. Nothing near to what she deserved, but he couldn’t make himself give her up. Even knowing that he couldn’t have her, he kept writing.
But then, last year, she’d stopped sending him letters. She still wrote to her sister and Serena, but even those letters were stilted and awkward, like she was hiding something. Hiding something big. But she’d stopped writing to him altogether, no matter how many letters he sent to her. He’d figured that she’d met a beau who could offer her more than Nate ever could. Who would give her the excitement and experiences that she deserved. But she hadn’t mentioned any beau to Molly or Annie or even Serena, and that oversight, that hedging, was what had tormented him for the last year. Why wouldn’t she have at least explained her attitude to her sisters?
What was tearing him up inside was the knowledge that she didn’t even care enough about him anymore to explain why she’d cut him off.
“What’s going to make you happy, Nate?”
Ash and Molly were still watching him, patiently. He ran a hand through his hair, and then rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about her question and trying to decide. Finally, he sighed. “I hate not knowing. I’ve always wanted Wendy in my future, but…” He took a deep breath, weighing the possibilities. “If she doesn’t want to be a part of it, if she’s found someone to make her happy in St. Louis, then I need to let her go. To quit sniffing around her skirts like a lost puppy. To cut her out of my life like she cut me out of hers, so I can move on and figure out how to be happy without her. But…”
“But you need to know for sure.” There was pity in his sister-in-law’s eyes, but Nate didn’t care.
“Yeah, Molls.” He sighed again. “Yeah, I need to know for sure. But as long as she’s ignoring my letters, and any reference you make to me in your letters, I don’t know. I can’t know.”
Ash’s low rumble interrupted. “So go to her.”
“What?”
“Go to St. Louis. Find her. Talk to her.”
Molly squirmed excited
ly. “Yes! Nate, go find her! Face-to-face, she’ll have to tell you the truth, what she’s feeling. She couldn’t hide then. You’d have your answer!”
He just stared at them, knowing that the look on his face was part disbelief, part hope. Molly’s expression softened. “It would work, Nate. You could do it. Now, while there’s less to do on the ranch.”
The objections burst out of him, like he was trying to convince himself. “Go to St. Louis? In December? Miss Christmas with all of you? Do you have any idea how much that would cost? And I’d show up there just for what? So she can reject me to my face? Tell me that I’m just some… some nobody, not worth her time?”
“You don’t know that.” Molly had never liked hearing him talk about himself that way, but he scoffed at her objections. Until his brother spoke up.
“Yeah,” Ash said, “And you’ve moped through the last few Christmases. We covered that already. Go talk to her. Maybe next Christmas you won’t have to mope.”
Molly pushed herself off of Ash’s lap, and crossed to Nate’s side. Taking one of his hands in both of hers, she squeezed. “Last Thanksgiving, I promised you that she’d be here for this year, do you remember?” Numbly, Nate nodded, still dazed at their suggestion. “I thought I could convince her to come home, but I was wrong. Maybe she doesn’t think of this as her home anymore. But without her telling us that, we don’t know. As heartsick as you are over her being gone, so am I. I miss her too.” She squeezed again. “Please go talk to her. Tell her that we miss her. Find out what she’s not telling us.”
Nate’s gaze moved from her to his brother. Ash’s expression was unreadable, as always, but Nate saw the approval in those dark eyes. “Do it, kid. I’ll pay for the train ticket, if it’ll convince you to go. Think of it as a Christmas present.” Nate swallowed, not sure what to say to that. “Hell, I should’ve gone myself, but couldn’t leave the ranch and the kids.”
“And me!” Molly gave him a good glare, and there was another flash of a smile deep in Ash’s beard.
“And you, sweetheart. I just couldn’t face that city again, not after the life I’ve found—made—out here.” A lifetime ago, Ash had lived in an orphanage in St. Louis. Turning back to Nate, he continued, “But you’re free for now. You not only can do this for us, you need to do this, for yourself. You’re the one who has to go.”
And suddenly, Nate knew that they were right. He’d always trusted his brother’s advice, and Ash was dead-on this time too. The only way Nate was going to figure out what was going on in Wendy’s head was to talk to her face-to-face. It was the only way any of them would know.
Looking up at Molly again, he squeezed her hand. “Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll go to St. Louis and find her.”
His sister-in-law’s smile was pleased. “Thank you, Nate.”
He snorted. “I should be thanking you for talking me into it.”
“True.” She squeezed his hand one more time, and then pulled free to rumble his hair again. Like he was a kid. “But you’ll be bringing me peace of mind by doing it. And maybe you’ll even be bringing her home!”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Molls. She must be happy there. I’m sure she wants to stay. And me…” He looked at Ash. “This is my home. I can’t imagine giving it up.”
Molly sighed, and dropped a kiss to his forehead. “I know, Nate. I know.”
His decision made, Nate took a deep breath. “So, when should I leave?”
As they got down to the business of planning his trip, he couldn’t figure out if he was excited or nervous about the prospect. One way or another, in a few weeks he’d have answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for well over a year.
CHAPTER THREE
May 7th, 1882
Nate,
I am sure that you have read my missive to Molly, so I will not elaborate on the Easter season. As last year and the one before, I missed my loved ones, but am pleased to be here. The city is truly bustling, and I have learned so much. As I spoke of upon first journeying here, I have found my place. I am making a difference, and know that this is where I belong. My books are selling, I have all the time I need to write, and my new position with the Blakely family is ideal. I feel like I could stay here forever. This has become my home, and I am pleased for it.
I am not without friends here, so do not fret for my well-being. Little Jeremy’s oldest siblings are close to my age, and I have high hopes that I can become close with one of his sisters. Likewise, the oldest brother Steven is a debonair gentleman about my years. From the time I have spent with him, I know that we can be friends.
I am happy here, Nate. Please be happy for me.
Your friend,
Wendy
December 11, 1883
How many times had he re-read that letter? Too many to count. The damn thing had been folded and re-folded so many times that it was in danger of falling apart. It was a goodbye if Nate had ever heard one. “I’m happy here… please be happy for me?” Yep, that was “goodbye”.
What bothered Nate about it, what had always bothered him, was that casual reference to “Steven”. It didn’t take much to imagine a slick city-boy, all duded out in the latest fashions, with oily hair and manners. Of course someone like that would “be friends” with someone as beautiful as Wendy. Hell, maybe this Steven was the reason she’d stopped writing him, had been ignoring her family for so long. If he was, Nate looked forward to meeting the man… and taking his anger out on him.
Sighing, Nate folded the letter once more and shoved it into the breast pocket of his duster. Despite the anger and sadness, he’d never been able to make himself throw out Wendy’s last letter to him.
He was standing on the platform of Cheyenne’s train depot, his bag beside him, staring down the track. There was a storm brewing, which is why he’d said his goodbyes to Ash, Molly, Annie and the kids already, and sent them on their way to the Carderocks’ house. They didn’t need to be caught in a snowstorm, not for him.
He was remembering one other time that he’d stood here, trying to board a train. He’d been heading west then, or anywhere he could go to get away from Cheyenne. And he would have, if there’d been a stockcar for his horse that day. As it was, he met Molly in the station—almost exactly eight years ago. And then Ash had found them both. She’d tried to protect him from Ash’s anger, but didn’t realize his brother had been angry for him, not at him. Hell, not even Nate had understood that at the time. All he’d known was that he was furious with his brother for never listening to his suggestions and ideas, and had decided to take himself off somewhere where someone would listen to him. Ash had come after him, terrified of what might have happened to a kid like him. And then, a few weeks later, had given him a full share in the ranch, proving that he did listen and care about Nate’s plans for the future.
His life—all of their lives—had changed for the better that day on this platform, when he’d met Molly. And now, he was fixing to change his life again. He didn’t know what waited for him in St. Louis, but figured one way or the other, he’d get his answers. He’d know if Wendy was in trouble, or if she’d fallen in love with someone else, or if she’d finally figured out that he wasn’t good enough for her, and had moved on. He’d know, and then could come back home and tell the rest of the family, and try to get on with his life.
The train whistle shook him from his thoughts, and he stepped back from the edge as the great locomotive chugged by. Then, hefting his small pack and handing his ticket to the conductor, he stepped on board and found a seat. As the train steamed out of the city, it struck Nate as a little ironic that this was his first time on one.
He’d been born in a rail camp, the son of a half-Indian whore and God knows what father. It was just bad luck that he looked so much like an Indian, when he had three white grandparents. He’d spent his early years traveling west with his mother, following the railroad workers, until he was old enough to do small jobs for small money. When his mother died, he was only about six, a
nd had no one else. So he kept on with Union Pacific, doing whatever work they’d give him. The men pushing the rails west were big men, tough men, and didn’t have much use for a scrawny Indian kid.
One spring evening, in Cheyenne—which was the middle of nowhere then—he was getting clobbered pretty bad by a drunk. A lot of that time was a hazy blur now, but Nate clearly remembered Ash’s roar as he pulled the man off of Nate. The next day, seven-year-old Nate had quit the railroad, figuring he’d rather take his chances with the only man who’d ever stood up for him. He’d walked for two days, following Ash’s trail, until he’d collapsed. When Ash found him and took him home, Nate forced himself to be as useful as possible. By the time Ash had found the time—and the inclination—to take him back to Cheyenne, Nate had made himself part of life on the ranch. Once he’d realized that Ash was going to let him stay, he’d made himself at home.
Nate couldn’t remember when he’d first called Ash “big brother”, but by the following summer, that’s who they were: the Barker brothers. He’d spent eight years thinking of himself as a charity case, knowing that Ash had only taken him in and fed him out of pity. And after he’d turned fifteen or so, he’d fought so much with his brother that he considered leaving Cheyenne altogether. But then Ash gave him—gave him—half the ranch, and started the horse breeding program Nate had been pushing. That, more than anything else in his short life, had proved to Nate how much Ash valued him. They’d been full partners for the last eight years, and trusted each other beyond a shadow of a doubt. And though they rarely said it, they loved each other. They were brothers.
Nate might have been born lower than dirt—a half-breed whore’s bastard—but he’d built himself a life he’d be proud to share with some woman. The problem was that the only woman he’d ever wanted to share it with apparently had no interest in sharing it with him.