“And now she is at the Hahns?” she asked, wanting to make sure she’d gotten everything right.
Steve nodded and took a bite of dinner.
Bonnie worriedly rubbed her palms together. “What if Mr. Hawkins goes there?”
Visions of the man showing up in the dead of night, angry and with a loaded rifle, bombarded Bonnie’s mind.
“Noah will take care of him if he is so foolish,” Steve answered. “Don’t worry. The Hahns will be on their guard.”
Bonnie relaxed in her chair, feeling slightly better. As Steve had replayed the run-in, she felt as though she watched it herself, the nerves rising in her had been that awful.
“And what of the next week? Or next month?” Bonnie asked. “Mrs. Hawkins cannot stay with the Hahns forever.”
“No,” Steve said, looking uncertain.
“From what I heard, Mrs. Hawkins does not have anything to return to back east,” Bonnie said.
Steve’s eyebrows pushed together. “You’re saying she would never leave him?”
Bonnie shrugged. “Perhaps so.”
Steve sighed and put his fork down. “It’s a complicated situation.”
“Yes,” Bonnie solemnly said.
They fell into more silence, a heaviness growing in Bonnie’s stomach.
“If he put his hand on her throat that close to the middle of town,” Steve said, “that means he’s capable of much more in the privacy of their home.”
Bonnie nodded. Her thoughts had mirrored his.
“She’ll need friends,” Steve said.
“We can give her friendship.”
“That’s right, darling, we can.” Steve reached across the table and took Bonnie’s hand, and a complex of emotions surged through her. With Steve to care for her, she was one of the luckiest women in the world. And yet, knowing that another woman in the area suffered so, prevented her from relaxing into complete happiness.
“You are a good man,” Bonnie said, tears filling her eyes. “An amazing man.”
Steve smiled sadly, his own face a mix of emotions. It seemed that the moment was quite a complicated one for him as well.
“Tell me about your day,” Steve said, drawing back his hand and resuming eating dinner.
Bonnie thought of the dress hidden away under the bed. It had taken hardly any time at all to put the lace on the collar and sleeves, and though she would have given it more embellishment if she had the option, the gown had turned out lovely. She was very proud of it, indeed.
“It was just a normal day,” she said.
“Nothing interesting happened?”
“No. Not really.”
“You’re not…” Steve avoided her gaze. “Growing restless out here, are you?”
Bonnie stared at him. “No. Why would you think that?”
Finally, he looked her way. “I can only imagine how different it is here from Baltimore. Especially since you went to college and all.”
“College was a while ago, and I did not even finish it.”
“Still.”
The one word made a strong statement, and Bonnie paused. Was she growing restless with Whiteridge? And perhaps just not letting herself acknowledge that?
“It is true that this is quite the change,” she said. “But I do love it here. And school…”
College. How she wished she had been able to finish it. Even staying in Baltimore, though, it would have been a difficult dream to make come true. She’d have to work for many years more in order to save up enough money to return.
Bonnie had made her choice. She’d left that life behind, and she was proud of herself for taking such a leap.
“I only hope there will be some opportunities to learn here,” she said. “Perhaps at some point, I can order some books.”
“Of course. You tell me what you want, and if we can get them, they’re yours. Plus, Mullins is ordering some magazines with stories. Those will be at the general store soon.”
“I heard. And thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. You’re my wife. It’s my job to make you happy. I mean, uh, you will be my wife.”
Steve ducked his face, and Bonnie laughed.
“I will be your wife for much longer than I will be your betrothed, so I suppose it only makes sense for you to go ahead and begin calling me that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes,” Bonnie said.
“I can go along with that,” Steve grinned. “By the way, I should mention this one expectation before we enter into this marriage.”
“What’s that?”
“You keep on making those delicious pies of yours.”
Bonnie warmed at the compliment. “Unfortunately, I can only do so when the fruit is in season. It appears Mrs. Briggs and I picked the last of the raspberries.”
“Too bad. There’ll be blueberries come spring, though.”
“My favorite.”
“Mine, too.” Steve winked.
12
12. Steve
Chapter twelve
The next day at the mine was tense. Steve kept expecting Hawkins to blow up, to attack him, or to attempt to embarrass or trick him somehow. The day passed like most others, though, and Steve only caught a couple brief glimpses of Hawkins. When the man stalked by, he kept his face down, avoiding eye contact with anyone else.
That was fine and well for Steve. If he never spoke to Hawkins again, he’d be happy. It was Margaret that he was worried about. He hoped she wouldn’t go back to her husband in order to not feel like a burden to her neighbors.
Steve’s cabin barely fit two people, but if she needed a place to stay, he would offer it to her. The sheet Bonnie had hung up to create separate sleeping areas worked well enough, and Margaret could always take the bed with Bonnie.
As the sun hung low in the sky, the mine closed for the day. Neil and Steve walked home side by side, waving goodbye in front of Neil’s house.
With each step toward home, Steve’s heart became lighter. No matter how long or hard the day, all memories of it vanished once he set sight on Bonnie’s beautiful face.
As he entered the house, she turned from the cook stove, already wearing a smile.
“Oh, hello,” she said, pretending to be surprised.
“Hello.” Steve stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. Bonnie touched the spot where his lips had made contact, and he liked to think she was cherishing the kiss.
“What are you baking?” He looked over her shoulder, finding two loaves of some kind of bread or cake.
“Pound cake,” Bonnie explained. “I was thinking I would take one to the Hahns.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Is that all right?” Bonnie raised her eyebrows. “Supper is ready, but we can eat before I go.”
Steve took her hand in his. “Why don’t you go on now? That way you can be back before dark.”
“Would you like to come with me?”
Steve glanced out the doorway. There was about an hour of daylight left. He could walk with Bonnie to the Hahns. After the run-in yesterday, he’d worried a bit about Hawkins retaliating by attacking Bonnie.
The only thing that made him lean toward allowing her to go was the alone time he needed. As cold weather continued to move in, Steve would become busier and busier with hunting and fishing for the winter. As it was, he already had little time to work on Bonnie’s rocking chair.
“I’ll walk you there,” Steve said. “I need to go to town anyway. So when I come back, I’ll fetch you.”
“What do you need in town?”
“Uh...” Steve licked his lips. “Mullins asked if I’d swing by the general store and help him fix the crooked door. It should take no time at all with two on it.”
Steve reminded himself to ask Mullins to go along with the lie and smiled at Bonnie.
“That is very nice of you.” Bonnie rested her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “But are you not hungry? Shouldn’t we eat supper first?”
/> “Don’t worry about me. I can’t wait another hour.”
“All right then.”
Bonnie took one of the pound cakes and wrapped it in a cloth, and together they set off down the road. Steve’s plan was to fetch some nails from the general store and then, while Bonnie was asleep that night, work some on the rocking chair. He’d have to take his supplies into the woods so she wouldn’t hear the sawing and hammering, but any extra effort would be worth it. Steve couldn’t wait to see his gal relaxing in her rocking chair in front of the stove.
Taking Bonnie to the Hahns meant making a detour away from town, but it was the right choice. At another time, Steve might have felt comfortable enough to let her go on her own, but things were too tense at the moment.
“I’ll see you soon,” he told her, giving her a quick kiss at the edge of the yard.
With a punch to his step, Steve walked back down the road and into town. The main area was relatively scarce, with no one in the street. Lights spilled from the hotel and saloon, though, and lively music wafted out of the latter. Noah had taken to having music nights at the saloon lately--festive get-togethers where miners brought in their guitars, banjos, and mandolins and played one long, improvised song that seemed to last for hours.
Breaking into a jog, Steve crossed the road, headed for the general store... and stopped mid-step.
“Closed,” he said out loud, reading the sign.
Mullins had pretty regular hours, but he had been known to shut down early every once in a while when business was slow.
Hands on his hips, Steve ran his tongue over his front teeth. All he needed that night were a few nails. Surely, he could borrow them from someone?
Turning around, he surveyed the area, his gaze landing on the tool shed behind the hotel. The spot’s owner, Wakefield, had allowed Steve to borrow supplies before, and Steve knew he wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to a few nails.
Satisfied, Steve headed across the grass. The music from the saloon, combined with drunken yelling and laughing, was so loud it made his temples pound. Turning away from the annoyance, Steve crossed behind the saloon and entered the hotel’s backyard.
The shed was dark, its door ajar. Steve reached inside, running his hand along the wall in a search for a lantern. Finding one, he carefully took it off its hook and began a hunt for matches.
After bumping his fingers against objects on several shelves, Steve gave up. He would just need to feel around for the nail box. If he remembered correctly, Wakefield kept it on one of the shelves along the back wall.
Carefully, so he wouldn’t trip over anything, Steve shuffled his way deeper into the shed. Suddenly, his boot toe bumped against something.
Steve tried to go around the object, but it was long.
He nudged it with his boot. It was softer than he’d expected. In fact, it felt like...
Steve sucked in a choking breath and dropped to his knees. His hand found what he was afraid it would: a leg. A man’s leg, judging by the pants it wore.
His fingers went higher, brushing up the man’s chest and coming into contact with what he was afraid they would. Sticky wetness. Blood.
“Hey there,” Steve said, his voice rough and shaky. “Hey there.”
There was no answer.
Jumping to his feet, Steve ran out of the shed and into the hotel. His legs shook, and he burst into the kitchen, where the cook stared at him open-mouthed.
“There’s someone in the shed,” Steve said. “A body.”
He loathed saying that last word, but there wasn’t much denying what he had found. Whoever lay in that shed wasn’t getting up ever again.
“What’s this?” someone asked.
It was Wakefield, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining area.
Steve lowered his voice, suddenly conscious of the guests in the hotel. “There’s a body in the shed.”
Wakefield’s eyes went wide, and he snatched a lantern from the wall, lighting it as he walked. Steve led the way back across the yard, hating that he had to go back to that shed. He’d never seen a dead body, except for at wakes, and wasn’t keen on having his first peek at one not in a coffin.
At the door, they both paused, and Wakefield cautiously lifted up the lantern. “Did you see who it was?”
“No, it’s too dark. But I think it’s a man. And there’s blood. I felt it on his chest.”
Steve looked down at his fingers in the dark and realized there was probably still blood on them. His stomach rolled, but he resisted the urge to vomit and stood his ground.
Holding the lantern out, Wakefield entered the shed, Steve right on his heel. The light flickered over the man’s legs.
“You’re right,” Wakefield said, as the light danced up the body and onto the face. “It is a man.”
Steve choked on air at the sight of the wide and emotionless eyes. He knew those eyes. Knew that face.
“It’s Russell Hawkins,” Wakefield announced. “Looks like someone shot him dead.”
13
13. Steve
Chapter thirteen
Steve stared into his coffee mug. Behind him, the birds sang in the early morning. Inside the cabin, the tone was… heavy.
That was the best word that could be put to it. It hadn’t been twelve hours since Steve had found Hawkins’ body in the shed. Wakefield had sent a rider to Shallow Springs right away, to fetch the doctor and the sheriff there, and the task of telling Margaret Hawkins her husband had been murdered rested on Steve’s shoulders.
He hadn’t known what kind of reaction to expect when he had walked up to the Hahns’ and asked for a word with her outside. Hawkins had been cruel to Margaret. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind about that. But how did she feel about it all?
Instead of despair or relief, the two emotions he’d expected to see on her face, there had been emptiness. Shock.
Best as Wakefield and Steve could tell, three bullets to the chest had done Hawkins in. The body had still been warm when Steve came upon it. Thinking about it, even as he sat at the table in his cabin with the morning sun on his back, made Steve shiver.
“How are you doing?” Bonnie asked quietly.
Steve cleared his throat. “It’s hard to say.”
She nodded in understanding.
“I don’t wish any man to be murdered in cold blood,” Steve said, “no matter who he is.”
Bonnie’s whole face pinched tight like she was in pain. “Who do you think did it?”
“Can’t say, but it would seem Hawkins had more enemies than I would have guessed.”
Bonnie lifted her mug to take a sip but ended up just putting it back down, her lips never touching the rim. It was Sunday morning. Church would be starting soon and the sheriff would be arriving sometime today. Steve figured the doctor would come as well, but only to officially declare Hawkins dead.
Another shiver ran through Steve, and he did his best to suppress it. He kept picturing Hawkins’ wide, lifeless eyes. Would that image ever leave him?
“I need to get to church,” Bonnie said, standing up. “I cannot sit around here.”
Steve nodded. Visiting with the Lord and praying would help her through this complicated morning. It didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.
Bonnie put on her shawl and hat, and they silently made their way to church. Bonnie glanced in the direction of the Hahns’, and Steve knew she was wondering the same things as him: how was Margaret doing? Would she show up to church that morning?
In the churchyard, the townsfolk had gathered in small groups as they always did. Today, though, there was a different feeling in the air. Steve didn’t need to overhear any of the conversations to know the news of Hawkins’ demise was flying across the yard faster than the wind.
At the edge of the yard, Steve stopped walking, his gut twisting. A few people had already stopped talking to stare at him, and the idea of running the gauntlet of the whole town’s stares was tortuous.
“Mr. Huebner.
”
Steve looked over and found Sheriff Ross headed his way, Wakefield close behind him.
“Sheriff.” Steve shook the man’s hand. They’d met a couple times before at social gatherings.
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