With a roll of her eyes, Sally stood up. “I’ll lend a hand, Mavis. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”
“Now, now, don’t feel obligated,” Mavis said, even as she turned about and handed Sally the bag she’d carried in with her. She glanced toward the others. “As to your needing a team, the horse trader came in for a late supper. Said something about a whole string of horses up at the livery.” She paused. “Real nice fellow. Kind eyes.” She glanced at Caroline. “So I expect if a body really wanted to go ahead with homesteading and really wanted a good team, they’d hightail it back to the livery, even if it is raining to beat the band.”
Thanking her, Caroline stood up and excused herself. Retrieving a shawl she headed out the front door. The rain had let up, leaving a swirling mist in its wake that threatened to thicken into an honest-to-goodness fog. But she was hardy. A little mud, a little fog…no problem. In spite of her best efforts at holding her skirts up and skipping over the worst of the puddles, the hem of her dress was much the worse for the journey from one end of Main to the other.
Mr. Ermisch had pulled the double doors closed as a guard against the rain. Caroline went in the side door and made her way through the gloom and to the back, where after opening another single door, she peered out at the corral. Mavis was right. At least a dozen horses had joined Matthew’s mule in the corral. For the next few minutes Caroline watched them, finally deciding to look more closely at two bay geldings and, if they didn’t prove sound, then the gray mares—by daylight.
Piano music sounded behind her from the direction of the saloon. The noise emphasized the quiet in the barn. Jackson was likely back at the Immigrant House by now. As for Mr. Ermisch, Caroline didn’t know where he spent his hours away from the livery. It didn’t really matter, she supposed. Contented snuffles and soft grunts and the sounds of chewing filled the air now. Time to get back to the meeting with the good news.
As she turned to go, a shrill screech sounded from a stall. Then a kick to a board. Another kick. Another snort. “Hey, boys,” Caroline said. “What’s wrong back here?” She made her way toward the stall where Matthew’s Patch was causing a ruckus, snorting and tossing his head. As Caroline approached, the horse whinnied and whirled about.
“Hey, now. Whoa, there.” Apparently Patch wasn’t accustomed to stalls and stables. Hopefully Mr. Ermisch had realized the horse wasn’t really all that gentle before Jackson got kicked. The horse stomped its feet and, stretching its neck out, bared its teeth. “Oh, now, stop that. You don’t want to be that way. Just settle dow—” A gloved hand covered her mouth. An arm encircled her waist and she was lifted from the earth and carried backward. Patch whinnied again. Caroline kicked and squirmed, but whoever it was only held her tighter as he dragged her toward the back corner of the stable. The harder she thrashed, the harder he held on until it felt like he might break every rib and her jaw at the same time.
He smelled of whiskey. Sweat. And…as he whispered into her ear, his hot breath carried a hint of…peppermint. “I been thinkin’ about you since I first saw you. I like a woman with a little spunk. You gave old Lucas Gray a run for his money on the train, didn’t ya?” He nuzzled her ear. “You coulda been a little more sociable at the dance, you know. But you southern gals, you always got to put that little nose of yours in the air. Like you smell something bad when regular folks come around. That’s how you made me feel at the mercantile the other day.” A guttural chuckle. “Don’t mind telling you I couldn’t believe my good luck when I come out of the saloon and saw you comin’ in here all by yourself.”
The man’s hand left her waist and groped higher, but he still managed to keep her arms clamped to her sides. “Now, you and I are gonna get to know one another real well this evenin’. And when I’m done—”
A faint click. And then the sound of Sally Grant’s voice. “You are done, you low-down—” She strung an impressive series of descriptive words together before continuing. “Now, here is what you are going to do so that I don’t have to pull this trigger. In just a minute, you are going to let my friend go. And you are gonna move real slow when you do it because this here gun of yours has a hair trigger and it would be a shame if it went off. Now, Caroline, the minute he lets go, I want you to jump clear. But don’t run off. Just wait for me to tell you what to do next. All right?”
Caroline managed muffled agreement.
“All right, then,” Sally said. “You turn Mrs. Jamison loose, now—and be sure your hands go up in the air the minute you do.”
Day loosened his grip and Caroline leaped away. When she spun around she saw his hands in the air, his eyes glittering with rage.
Sally never took her eyes off him as she said, “Now, Caroline. Real slow-like, you take that other gun out of his holster and then back yourself as far into the corner there as you can get. Of course, if you feel inclined to point the gun at him once you’re over there, that’d be just fine, too—as long as you can keep from shooting me.”
Caroline stared at Day’s empty holster. How had Sally done that? How had she managed to take the gun without him reacting…without him slapping her away? She hesitated.
“It’s all right. This here gun is a military issue Remington—.44 caliber if I’m not mistaken. It’s a marvel. And this here varmint likely knows that if he moves at all, nervous woman that I am, the darned thing just might go off. And since the barrel is pressed to the back of his head, that wouldn’t be too good for him.”
Caroline looked past Day and into Sally’s eyes. She didn’t look nervous. She looked deadly. Sally nodded. “You can trust me. Just get the other gun.” Caroline snatched the pistol out of its holster and backed away. She had no stomach for pointing it at anyone.
“Now,” Sally said to Day, “I’m gonna take a step back. Please do not do anything foolish like trying to run off, because as sure as I know what kind of gun this is in my hand, I know how to use it. And as sure as I don’t want to use it, I will if I have to. So we’re gonna walk out that back door and around to the saloon, and you’re gonna mount up and ride away. And you will keep riding, because if you don’t, it will be bad for you. That boss of yours has taken a shine to my friend here, and I don’t think he’d like knowing what you tried just now. So let’s go. Caroline, you might want to follow. It’s up to you.”
Her knees quaking, Caroline followed. Day did exactly what he’d been told. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t try anything, and he didn’t look back as he rode west into the swirling mists. Sally looked down at the gun. “I always wanted me one of these.”
“Here,” Caroline said, and held out its mate. “Now you have two.” She shuddered. “Do you think he’s really gone?”
“Well, I don’t imagine he wants to face a Lucas Gray who knows what he almost done here tonight.”
Caroline wobbled to the watering trough by the corral and perched on the edge, her head in her hands.
“Hey—” Sally sat down beside her, laid the guns down, and put a hand on her shoulder. “You ain’t gonna faint on me, are ya?” She patted Caroline on the back. “Breathe. Come on, girl. Just take in some fresh air.”
Caroline tried, but she couldn’t keep her voice from trembling as she asked, “H-how did you do that? H-how did you get that gun without him even knowing you were there?”
Sally cleared her throat. “Well, I…uh…I got some talents I don’t use no more. Now that I’m starting fresh.”
“As what—a gunslinger?”
Sally nudged her with an elbow. “’Course not.” She scratched her nose. “It weren’t all that different from gettin’ a money clip out of a pocket.” She was quiet for a moment, then murmured, “You won’t tell nobody—will ya?”
Caroline shook her head. She shivered and drew her shawl around her. “It was stupid of me to walk down here alone in the dark like that. I never would have done something like that in St. Louis. I just thought—I guess I’ve thought of Plum Grove as a sleepy little town where nothing bad would happen.”
“Yeah, well…I shoulda known better than to let you do it. But I figured it was only a little ways and Jackson would walk you back.” Sally sighed. “But then Jackson popped in the back door after you left, chattering about Linney’s pa and how he’s moved into town and—” She broke off. Shrugged. “It dawned on me just how close the livery is to the saloon and—I don’t know, I just run with my instincts, I guess.”
“Thank God for your instincts,” Caroline said. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”
Sally chuckled. “You did say I could keep the guns, right?”
“Checkmate,” Ermisch said, slapping his knee and laughing.
Matthew leaned back and stared at the board. It was just him and Otto tonight, playing chess in the back corner of the mercantile, and Matthew was glad. He didn’t need witnesses to the wholesale defeat Otto had handed him three times now. He shook his head.
“You’re just rusty,” Ermisch said, chuckling. “Give yourself a week or so, and it’ll be you hollering checkmate and me wondering how it happened.” He stretched, then pointed to the board. “Go again?”
Matthew nodded. “Set it up. I’ll be right back.” He headed out back, pausing in the clear night air, inhaling the scent of clean grass, wishing for the silence of the landscape outside the dugout. Tilting his head, he listened. He could hear Patch all the way at this end of Main.
Otto had followed him outside. He lit a cigar. “Old Patch hasn’t been in a barn in a long time. There’s bound to be some noise while he finds his place in the pecking order. He’ll settle in before long. I’ll check in on him before I turn in tonight.”
“It’s all right,” Matthew said. “You set up the board. I’ll go see if I can’t calm him down. Be right back.”
“Take a gander at the corral, too. They’re probably milling around—could be what’s got Patch all riled up.”
Matthew was halfway to the livery and behind Lux’s implement shop when he thought he heard a woman’s voice from the direction of the street. Plum Grove might be mostly good people, but a woman shouldn’t be out alone. A little yelp sounded just as he stepped out of the shadows and onto the boardwalk in front of the implement store. As he turned toward the yelp something flashed, and without thinking he crouched down and snatched the bowie knife from where he kept it tucked into the top of one boot.
“Mr. Ransom? Is that you?”
The voice and the gun didn’t match. Matthew blinked. It made no sense, but there was Sally Grant. Lowering a gun. And Caroline beside her.
“I heard…something,” he said as he stood up and put the knife away. They were coming from the direction of the livery. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is just dandy,” Sally replied. She ignored the gun, and for some reason Matthew felt compelled to follow her example.
“Can I…walk you somewhere?”
“Well, now, that’d be just dandy. Wouldn’t it, Caroline? We’re headed back to the Immigrant House.” Without waiting for an answer, Sally took his arm. Caroline took the other. She said nothing.
Matthew could feel Caroline trembling as they walked along. He had the ridiculous idea that the hand hidden in the folds of her dress held another gun.
“I like me a clear night after it’s been rainin’,” Sally said, inhaling deeply. “This is just dandy.”
Matthew could almost sense the demons gathering to laugh. This wasn’t going to work. Martha had put the note saying he was waiting downstairs just outside Linney’s bedroom door and then let him in the back door of the mercantile just before dawn. It felt as if he’d been sitting here in the dark for half the night. In fact, the sun was up now.
He probably wouldn’t get three words into his apology. He’d hunkered in that dugout too long. He’d lost her. One well-planted right fist into Luke’s jaw and everything imploded. He’d never forget the horror in Linney’s eyes at the sight of it. She’d want an explanation, too. And he couldn’t give it.
If only Luke had stayed away. Leave it to him to follow the prettiest girl in town like some tail-wagging pup. Not that Matthew could blame him for that. Caroline Jamison was a beautiful woman. Hers was a more exotic beauty than Katie’s had ever been, but still…a beautiful woman. No, Matthew didn’t suppose he could blame Luke for being attracted to Caroline. He couldn’t even blame Luke for talking to Linney. After all, what did Matthew expect him to do? Pretend she didn’t exist? She did, and she was a living, breathing monument to the best thing that had ever happened to either one of them.
She chose you. That’s what Martha had said. More than once. And it was finally sinking in. A little glimmer of hope had begun to shine through the shadows of the past few years. Now, if he could just get Linney to listen. Please, God. Make her listen.
He had so much to make up for. So much darkness to conquer. He still wasn’t sure he could do it. But if he didn’t, he was going to lose the best part of life once and for all. He had to get past the mile-high stack of regrets and do something right for a change.
He heard footsteps above. Looking up, he followed them across the ceiling to the second-story door. Down the outside steps. He stood to face the door. And there she was, her blue eyes looking so sorrowful Matthew thought his heart just might shatter and fall into pieces on the floor between them.
“Will you…will you hear me out, sweetheart?” His voice cracked.
She put her hands behind her. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Matthew nodded. Suddenly the speech just vanished from his mind. He looked at his daughter and the pain in her eyes, and knowing he was the reason it was there brought tears and he couldn’t hold them back. He didn’t even want to. He took a deep, wavering breath. “Those nightmares,” he began. “They aren’t about the war. They’re about the day your ma died.” He paused. Could he really do this? I have to.
“Lucas Gray is my cousin. He was the cadet your ma was dancing with when I first saw her. And even though she chose me and married me, I was always jealous of Luke. There wasn’t any reason for it. But I chose to see it another way. I picked a fight with your ma that day and then I lost control of myself and the team. And your ma died. That’s why I don’t drive wagons anymore. It’s why I have nightmares. It’s why…everything.” He swallowed. “I’ve been running from the truth for so long that I don’t really know how to stop. Except I know that if I don’t, I’m going to miss out on my last chance to be a real father. So I decided I’d sell the homestead and maybe that would help. It didn’t stop the nightmares, but it did get me moved to town. And then, in the middle of all of it, I saw Luke smiling at you and—”
Linney held up her hand. “Wait.”
Matthew stopped midsentence.
“You said…just now you said…moving…to town.”
Matthew nodded. “Barney’s in the corral over at the livery. He packed in everything I need from the dugout just last night. I’m all set up in that back room at Lux’s. He’s already got me promised to build three wagons and cut shingles for the ladies out at the cottonwood spring. Will seems to think a good carpenter—”
“—you…moved. Already. Into town.”
Matthew nodded again. “Just last evening. And I want to take you out to the homestead tomorrow. I want you to get to know Jeb Cooper and see what he’s done. He’s a good man, Linney. You should see the fence—”
He never finished the sentence. He couldn’t because his arms were full of a redheaded little gal clutching his neck and crying. “Oh, Pa,” she said, her words muffled against his shoulder. “I love you, Pa. I love you so much.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
But thou, O Lord, art a God full of compassion, and gracious, longsuffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth.
PSALM 86:15
It was nearly over for Hettie. She’d stood here four times a day for the last three weeks watching people get off that train, but tomorrow that would end. The others might decide to come back into Plum Grove to stay until the house w
as finished, but Hettie would not. She’d camp on the land and be happy to never hear another train whistle. At least until she had things figured out. For now, she needed distance from the past. A blank canvas for a future. And time. Four Corners would give her all those things, and the only cost was a narrow cot, perhaps in a tent for a week or so, and then in the loft of a soddy. To Hettie’s mind, that wasn’t a trial. It was a blessing. The word came without warning and when she pondered it, it made her smile a bit. Blessing.
She’d used religious words so easily for years and years. But they’d slipped away, one by one, until here she stood beside the front door of a hastily constructed building in a fledgling town she’d never heard of only weeks ago. The religious words had started filtering back lately, mostly, Hettie knew, because of Zita Romano. The way she slipped in little phrases just as naturally as can be. The way she prayed over every meal. And, oddly enough, the way the older woman could laugh at things—as if she and the Creator of the universe had a special relationship that allowed Zita to observe human frailty from a place of knowledge and hope that Hettie had lost. If she ever had it.
God was a thorny topic these days—for each of the six women in different ways. Perhaps, Hettie thought, God was a thorny topic for everyone when life didn’t give what they’d come to expect from love. The other day Caroline had said something about people in the West having different meanings for some words. Maybe that was it, Hettie thought. Maybe God had different meanings for words.
At least for now, Hettie liked the idea of God staying where he was, which seemed to be along the fringes of things that pertained to her. She hoped he refrained from stepping into her personal life, at least until she was safe at Four Corners. Safe. Now, there was a word. Would she ever feel safe again? She’d ponder that another time.
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