Oliver

by Christine Sterling

  That would include Willow.

  He knew nothing about her, but he was drawn to her in a way he didn’t understand.

  He saw the damage and recovery when Alice was rescued. It took months before Alice could even talk about small things. Being alone in the dark was a huge fear for his sister. He wanted to banish away all the hurt and anger he saw in his sister; and he wanted to do the same for Willow.

  Alice’s entire personality had changed recently. Where she was once lively and engaging, she now appeared to be constantly looking for an argument.

  Something would need to be done soon. Alice couldn’t keep alienating people with her waspish tongue.

  He wondered the type of torment Willow endured. It would take quite a bit of coaxing to get her to come out of her shell.

  Oliver smiled as he reflected on his pleasure at seeing Willow dressed in the green checkered dress. She was a completely different woman than the wildcat they encountered at the river. He would even say she was downright pretty.

  As he cleaned her feet, she didn’t say much. She simply looked at him with those doe eyes, and Oliver found himself sinking further into declaring himself her protector. He had never wanted to protect anyone that wasn’t family before.

  He wasn’t a fighter. He never was. He was the peacemaker of the family.

  Marshal Orrin Briggs was sitting on a rocker outside the jail and drinking coffee when Oliver rode up.

  “Morning,” Orrin said. “Got time for a cup?”

  “I’d be much obliged.”

  “Have a seat.” Orrin pointed to a bench along the wall. “I’ll be right back.”

  Oliver tied off Whiskey. As he stepped onto the porch, he heard yelling from inside the jail. Orrin returned just as Oliver was sitting down.

  “Everything alright?” he asked, putting his hat on the bench next to him.

  Orrin returned to his rocker. “Just a very unhappy guest.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Beat his wife while in a drunken rage.” Orrin sipped his coffee. “I’m going to keep him until he is completely sober.”

  The thought of Willow being married never entered his mind. What if she had a husband? Or even children? What if it was Willow’s husband in jail?

  “How long has he been in there?”

  “Brought him in last night. I figure three days should cure him.”

  Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. Willow had been at the cabin for nearly a week and she slept in Marianne’s room last night, so this was not her husband. Oliver sipped his coffee and watched as people started moving around the street.

  “What brings you to town? I know it wasn’t for my incredible coffee.”

  Oliver laughed. “I had to run an errand for Marmee, and I’m picking up some more nails for Owen.”

  “How’s your mother doing?”

  “Just fine. Misses Pa something fierce. I guess she does every time he is gone.”

  “When is he supposed to be back?”

  “We got the telegram from Caleb saying they ran into trouble on the way back. Pa took off with a few armed men to meet them in Colorado. My thought is within the next two weeks.”

  “You didn’t go?”

  “No. He took a few hands. Owen and I stayed home to watch over the operations.”

  “Hmmm.” Orrin appeared deep in thought. “What became of that girl Owen helped?”

  Oliver smiled. “He fell in love. They are going to be married soon. Don’t know when, but he confided they don’t want to wait.”

  “That’s great. I never thought he’d settle down. I guess that makes you and me the oldest bachelors in town now. I’m perfectly happy to keep it that way.”

  “I know what you mean. Say, I heard Bergman had a few head stolen from his property.”

  “Yeah, about a dozen. I think they simply wandered off. Part of his fence was torn down from that bad windstorm we had a few weeks ago. I just think they never got around to fixing it.”

  “I guess that could be an explanation. Didn’t you catch a rustler a few months ago?”

  “Yeah. He was just a kid. Couldn’t find anyone working with him though. I think he was just trying to make a name for himself. Speaking of names, I heard Brodie Richards is about to get out of prison.”

  Oliver’s ears perked up. “Brodie?”

  Brodie Richards was Duke Richards' younger brother. Duke was responsible for stealing several hundred head of cattle from the Chapman ranch and killing Michael. Duke also stole Sarah Hartman’s affections as she was to marry Owen.

  That was the beginning of the feud between the Hartman and Chapman families. Weston was convinced that the Hartmans had something to do with the rustling ring and used their daughter to glean information from Owen. The information which Sarah took to Duke Richards to help him avoid capture. Last he heard; several members of the Richards Gang were captured in Missouri. Duke never made it out of prison alive.

  Oliver didn’t think Owen would ever recover from the betrayal, but then he met Ellie. Oliver couldn’t ask for a better future sister-in-law. If his brother was happy, he was happy.

  “Yup. I got a wire from the warden, letting me know.”

  “Do you think he will come here?”

  “I don’t think so. He knows that there will be men gunning for him. He’d be a fool if he thought about revenge.”

  “Has it been quiet here in town?”

  Orrin looked at Oliver and lifted his eyebrow.

  “Quiet in what way?”

  Oliver finished his coffee and dumped the grounds at the bottom of the cup onto the street. “I dunno. Any fights? Gunfire? Murders?”

  “Murders? That’s a direct question. Something on your mind?”

  Oliver shrugged. He promised Willow he wouldn’t mention her to the Marshal. He intended on keeping that promise. “I was just wondering. I know it can get wild at night sometimes.”

  “Nope. No murders. Someone at Marcy’s did get beaten rather badly, though. Looks like it was a robbery gone wrong.”

  “I have another question for you.”

  “It’s early in the morning. Don’t know if I have my considering cap on but ask.”

  “If someone is in trouble. Let’s say running from something. Is there a way to protect that person from the person that wants to do them harm?”

  Orrin leaned forward in the rocker. “You in trouble?”

  Oliver shook his head. “Not me. A family friend.”

  Orrin scratched his cheek. “Well, seems there is a couple of ways to go about this. Is the person a man or a woman?”

  “A woman.”

  “If the man in question is a guardian or a husband, there isn’t much you can do. Women are viewed as property.”

  “What if this person isn’t married?”

  “Well, the woman in question would need to have someone step up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In most cases, if the woman is married to someone else then no other man has a right to touch her. She becomes the property of her husband.”

  “I can’t imagine thinking of a woman as property.”

  “It’s the way of things, though. Women don’t have rights. Just the way it is.”

  “Thanks, Briggs.” He handed the cup back to the marshal. “I appreciate the coffee.”

  “Anytime. Tell Marmee I’ll be by tomorrow. I promised Weston I’d check-in, but I just haven’t had the time.”

  “I will. Consider yourself invited for dinner.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate a good meal.”

  “I’ll let Marmee know.” Oliver put his hat back on his head and walked over to the mercantile.

  The sound of a bell announced his arrival.

  Dillon Arden, the shopkeeper was standing on a ladder dusting shelves. As he looked over his shoulder, Oliver raised his hand in greeting.

  “Oliver!” the man said, stepping down and coming around the counter. “How are you doing today? You know your brother was just
in here buying nails.”

  “Just fine, Mr. Arden. He needs some more to fix a fallen fence.”

  “A pound?”

  “Make it two. And throw in two lead bars. The small one pound ones.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’ll look around and let you know.”

  Oliver didn’t usually come to town. He tried to avoid it if possible. Everett would drive Marmee once a week in the wagon so she could make her purchases. Owen normally handled any purchases for the horse operations of the ranch.

  That arrangement suited Oliver. He didn’t like the feel of the town. Everyone is in such a confined space. Knowing each other’s business. He gave a sharp laugh. That described the ranch. Everyone in a close space and into each other’s business.

  Oliver preferred the wide-open space of the ranch and the prairie.

  He moved around the store taking in the displays. Flat River was relatively small, so the store wasn’t large, but it had a wide selection of dry goods, fabrics, toiletries, and food. There was also a small tools section and a post office/telegraph office tucked into the back.

  He came across bolts of calicos and ribbons and fingered them. There were many different colors. It would be nice if Willow had a dress of her own. He picked out a turquoise fabric with little yellow flowers surrounded by leaves.

  “How many yards to make a dress?” he asked Mr. Arden.

  Mr. Arden looked over his glasses. “Depends on how large the woman is. Rose!” he called to the back of the store. A curtain parted and a dark-haired woman a few years older than Owen appeared carrying a crate of peaches.

  “Oliver wants to know about the fabric.”

  Rose put the box of peaches down and walked over. “Hello, Oliver. You’re looking at fabric?”

  Oliver nodded. “Yes ma’am. I was just wondering how much would be needed for a dress.”

  “Is it for your mother?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “One of your sisters?”

  “You could say that.” Oliver fidgeted as the older lady looked at him.

  She realized Oliver wasn’t going to give her the information she was seeking, so she took the fabric in Oliver’s hand and walked behind the counter to a cutting board. “How tall is your … sister?”

  “About this tall,” Oliver said, placing his hand against his chest.

  “Does she have a dress pattern already?”

  “I don’t know.” Oliver rubbed his eyes. “I’m sure Marmee has a pattern. I don’t know anything about women’s clothing.”

  “Well, you can buy a premade dress if that is easier.”

  “Where are those?”

  “Right over here,” she said, leading him to a display of dresses on hangers. “Some of these came from as far away as New York. Check out that seam work.” She flipped the sleeve of the dress inside out so Oliver could see the stitching.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Oliver agreed with Rose, even though he had no idea if the stitching was good or not. Women knew about those kinds of things, not men. “Maybe a dress would be better,” he said thoughtfully and pulled out a dress to look at it.

  It was a pale yellow and wouldn’t flatter Willow’s coloring. He put that one back and pulled out a dark blue one with tiny roses embroidered on it. This would look lovely on her. But how could he tell what size dress to purchase?

  “Here, let me help,” Rose said. She took the dress from Oliver’s hand and held it up to her chin. The dress flowed from her shoulders, tightened at the hips and then flared out from the waist.

  “I’ll take that one,” he said. “I’ll need some hair ribbons. Blue and green.” Rose nodded her approval and took the items to the counter to wrap. As they walked by the bolts of fabric once more, Owen grabbed the chocolate brown calico. “I might as well take this one too.”

  “Here are your nails and two lead bars.” Mr. Arden said. He scribbled an amount down on a piece of paper where Rose listed out the dresses. While she was wrapping his purchases, he spied a wooden case with a glass top. Inside were the prettiest hair combs he had ever seen. They were all florals, some having birds on them, but when he spied ones with a kitten painted in enamel, he knew he needed to purchase them.

  “Add those as well,” he said, pointing to the case. She pulled out the hair combs and added them to the dress pile.

  “How much fabric would you like? This is a lovely color.”

  “I’ll just take the entire bolt. I’m sure Marmee can do something with it.”

  “You are a good son,” she cooed as she counted the pleats in the fabric and then wrapped it in some waxed paper with a string.

  “Anything else?”

  Oliver thought of Alice. Perhaps he could get her something as well. “I’ll take two pennies worth of licorice whips, a penny’s worth of gumdrops. Do you have any empty journals?”

  “We do.” Rose retrieved a box and placed it in front of Oliver. “We have leather journals. These are new,” she said pulling a few out and putting them on the counter. “They are covered in fabric and of course, there are some simple paper journals.”

  “I’ll take a leather one and six pencils.”

  Rose tallied everything up. “That will be twenty-three dollars and forty-cents.”

  Oliver counted out the money, pushing the paper bills and coins towards Rose. He gathered his purchases, excited to get home to give the dress to Willow. He left the store and stuffed the packages in his saddlebags.

  As he mounted his horse, he noticed a man he didn’t recognize was now sitting on the bench with Marshal Briggs. The man was average looking, but there was something off. He had a curly mustache and the scruff of someone who hadn’t shaved. His clothes were a bit disheveled and his hair was long, making it difficult to see his face.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Briggs,” Oliver said.

  Both Orrin and the man turned to look at Oliver. The man brushed the hair from his eyes and Oliver could see a bandage against the side of his head. The man’s hair hid most of it.

  The Marshal lifted his hand in greeting and Oliver turned Whiskey to ride out of town.

  He reflected on the man for a moment and then promptly put the man from his mind, instead choosing to reflect on how excited Willow might be about her new dress.

  Chapter Nine

  Oliver listened to the sound of the door slamming as Willow returned to her room.

  That did not go as well as he imagined it would.

  “What were you thinking, Ollie?” Alice asked, taking a gumdrop from the bag and popping it in her mouth. They were sitting on the sofa, the gifts laying on the small table in front of the settee.

  “I just thought she needed a new dress.”

  “You are so dense.”

  Oliver looked at his sister. Alice was thrilled with the journal and pencils. Marmee loved the dark fabric and insisted she would make skirts for everyone. Willow, however, wasn’t receptive to the dress. She looked at the fabric. Oliver thought she was going to cry as he could see her bottom lip quiver. Willow traced the enamel on the hair combs and then placed them on the table before running to her room.

  “What did I do?”

  “Something terrible happened to her. I bet she has never had a new dress before. Or beautiful combs like that.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “It means one of two things… either she was given gifts to ease her into an abusive situation, or she was living in borrowed clothing. That dress Owen found looked like it belonged to a working woman.”

  Oliver was thunderstruck. His mouth opened and closed a few times. This was the closest that Alice had ever been to describing what may have happened to her. “And you know this … because?”

  Alice stopped chewing her gumdrop and stood up abruptly. “I’ve said too much.” She scooped up the journal and pencils from the table. “Thank you for the paper, Ollie.”

  As she walked by him, Oliver grabbed her arm. He stood and brought her into his embrace, kissing her
on top of her head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, Pint Jar.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He pulled her closer. “I know, but I wish I could take all that pain away.”

  “You are the best big brother. But, Ollie?”

  “What is it?”

  “Can you let me go, I can’t breathe.”

  Oliver gave an awkward laugh and released her. Her big blue eyes lifted, and she gave a half-smile. “You might not have been able to protect me, but you might have a chance to do it for someone else. Whatever or whoever hurt her has been doing it for a long time.” She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Oliver’s cheek. “I know I don’t tell you enough, but I do love you.”

  Alice scurried down the hallway and he heard the door to her room close.

  He couldn’t protect Alice, but he could protect Willow.

  Protect Willow.

  Orrin Brigg’s words came back to him from earlier that morning.

  Women didn’t have rights. They were considered chattel, like a horse, a dog, or a gun. If whoever did this to Willow had a claim to her, there was only one way that a claim like that could be broken.

  Oliver would have to marry Willow.

  Willow didn’t go to dinner that evening. She feigned being ill. She didn’t want to see Oliver after running away from him when he showed her the dress.

  She rolled over as Ellie came into the room with a tray.

  “Broth, toast, and milky tea for the patient.” She put the tray at the side table and leaned over to feel Willow’s head. “You don’t have a fever,” she said. “I’ll check on you later.” She left the room and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving Willow in the dark.

  The next morning, Willow took the untouched tray to the kitchen and washed the dishes in the warm water left over from breakfast.

  “Oh, you’re up,” Marmee said coming around the corner. “Are you feeling better?”

  Willow finished drying the dishes and placed them in the cupboard. “I am.”

  “Do you want anything to eat?”

  Willow shook her head. She still wasn’t hungry. She looked around the room and found it empty.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Normally at least Alice and Ellie would be in the room, planning out their day.