by Annie Boone
“She’s not like that.”
“You barely know the girl.”
“That’s not true.” Heat flared in him, as he clenched his fists at his side. “You have no idea how close we have become through our letters. We pour our hearts out.”
“Max...” A cough exploded from his mentor, making the flash of anger drain from him. Mr. Hightower bent over, as his body convulsed. Max rushed to him, gripping his shoulder and pounding his back.
The coughs died away, and Paul fell back against the headboard, closing his eyes. “I just don’t want you hurt. A love lost can hurt so much.”
He said the words with such disdain, as if he had experienced such a loss. But Max had never heard him speak of such. As far as Max knew, Paul Hightower had lived his life as a contented bachelor. Had there been something he missed? An event that had happened when he was too young to understand it? He’d probably never know. Max pulled the large woolen blanket over Mr. Hightower’s frail body and guided him down in the bed until his head rested on the pillows.
“You need to rest.”
“Promise me,” he said, his voice sounding so weak.
“Promise you what?”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will.”
Mr. Hightower nodded and closed his eyes. He tried to stifle a yawn, but he was unsuccessful as his mouth opened wide. He tried to cover it with his hand, but he couldn’t get it out from the covers in time.
Max sat with his mentor until sleep overtook him. Then he left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He spotted Miss Markson leaning against the wall. In her hand, she held a small lantern, the gold light casting shadows all around her.
“He’s resting,” he said and turned walking down the hall. Lighter steps followed him.
She caught up with him, and the scent of rosewater surrounded him. He didn't realize nurses ever wore such a scent. Usually they smelled medicinal.
“Did you speak to him about Colorado?” she asked.
Max shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to his room, stopping outside the large oak door. “There’s no use; he won’t go.”
“Perhaps it’s best. He needs to live his last days content in familiar and comfortable surroundings.”
He didn’t respond but opened his door, and briskly walked in, shutting it in her face. He knew he just acted like a cad, but he didn’t care. He had no care for manners at the moment.
He walked to his desk and lit his small lamp. Sitting down, he gripped his pencil and a piece of paper. Laying the pencil to his letter, he made one stroke and then stopped. Tears rushed to his eyes and then began racing down his cheeks. A sob slipped from his lips as his world crumbled around him.
The end was near for Paul Hightower. He knew it. And there was nothing he could do about it. He cradled his head in his arms. Letting his tears soak through the fabric of his clothes, a pair of light-blue eyes filled his mind. The longing for her attacked him, cutting right through his heart.
He knew exactly what he’d do if he lost his dear friend. He’d race to Cutter’s Creek and make Lana his wife.
Mr. Hightower’s warning raced across his mind. Could she? Could she just be after money? But she had no idea if he had any. In fact, he had never mentioned he stood to inherit Mr. Hightower’s fortune. All she knew was, he worked for him.
He dismissed that fear, and sat up, looking at the now soaked paper laying on the table. He needed her. So much. He should send her some money—her and her brother—and suggest they come visit. But how could he entertain guests, when his dear friend knocked at death’s door?
No, he couldn’t invite them. He would just continue writing of his love, and the situation. She’d understand. A kind soul rested in her.
Chapter 6
Lana ruffled the plain wool dress she wore, pressing as many wrinkles as she could into the fabric. Letting the skirt drop, she gathered all her rich blonde tresses and tied them tightly in a knot at the back of her neck, making her squint as the unusual pain spread across her forehead.
She looked at herself in the mirror, turning side-to-side. She looked like a disgruntled schoolmarm. Perfect. A smile broke across her face, revealing the blackened tooth. Hopefully, ink wasn’t poisonous. Or permanent.
One might consider her actions childish, but if that fool hadn’t gotten the idea she wasn’t interested after her constant rebuffs, then she had to make herself plainly obvious. Men. She planted a hand on her hip. The men she knew couldn’t tell a woman’s true interests if they slapped him in the face.
A slight knock sounded on the door and Felicity pushed it open without waiting for a response. As she walked in, she looked up and stopped in her tracks. A loud laugh gushed from her, as she bent slapping her knees. Her friend stood up shaking her head. “Have mercy. You look like a mad woman.”
Lana tipped her nose in the air. “Well, that’s rude. I think I look quite astonishing.” A full smile leaped to her lips, just before she started giggling.
“You even colored your teeth. Or is it just one? Well, never mind how many. Your smile is just horrible.” Her friend walked closer to her, and then took a step back, waving her hands in front of her face. “Goodness, you stink.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “That sweaty horse blanket scent is all the rage in Paris.”
Felicity shook her head. “Josh underestimated you. But I guess we all have.”
Felicity’s gaze traveled to her bed, and Lana stiffened. Why did she look to the very spot she had hidden her writing? She couldn’t possibly know about it, could she? Lana was so careful to keep it stowed away. She only wrote at night. She mailed the manuscripts to the publishers when everyone else was occupied. And though everyone in the house knew she loved Austen novels, they had no idea she wished to create such stories on her own. No, she was just being paranoid like always.
“We’d best get down there. I hate to keep Josh waiting. I know how he loves your cooking,” Lana said.
Felicity nodded and followed her, staying back a few feet from her. She made her way down the stairs following the talking and polite laughter. A deep voice speaking in single syllables floated to her. Matthew had arrived. Had that man ever spoken more than two words in once sentence?
She came around the corner of the stairs and stopped, bending her head to the side, letting a full smile cross her face. Josh’s eyes widened, her mother’s hand flew to her chest, her father chuckled and Matthew said nothing. He just stood there nodding his head. She straightened. Shouldn't he be rushing out the door?
She walked down the stairs, and stood in front of him, taking in his large stature, dirty blond hair and lifeless brown eyes. He didn’t even twitch at the foul smell that flowed from her.
“It’s so nice of you to join us for dinner.”
A blush crossed his face, as he nodded again. “Thank you,” he said.
She huffed, shaking her head and strolling towards the dining room table, not even waiting for her mother to invite everyone to sit. She pulled out her own chair and flopped down ignoring the platter of pan-fried steak, biscuits, and roasted potatoes set out before them. Not even the rich smells could entice her.
She stiffened as a chair scraped next to her, and Matthew sat, his eyes locked on her like she was some lost jewel. Couldn’t he see, she had purposely made herself look like a messy disaster of a woman? Did he not care? No, he looked at her with admiration in his eyes. She shook her head in dismay. Grabbing a biscuit in each fist, she chomped each one, mouth overflowing with bread, but still barely tasting it.
Josh sat across from her, glaring at her so harshly she worried she might melt. Felicity sat next to him, biting on her bottom lip. Lana knew her friend just wanted to burst out laughing. Perhaps she should and then explain to her husband how absurd all this was. But would he even understand? No, like all men, he couldn’t comprehend subtle hints, though this one may not be so subtle.
After grace, Felicity and her mother be
gan dishing out the food, but Lana just continued to eat her biscuits, letting the crumbs fall onto her chest and flashing her blackened tooth at every opportunity. Each second Josh’s face took on a darker shade of red as he clenched his hands into fists. Part of her wanted to stick her tongue out at the fool, but she imagined that would make him explode.
“Miss Garrett,” said Matthew next to her. She turned, catching sight of the large mound of pan steak and mashed potatoes he had piled on his plate. Figures he’d take a lot. The man did have a large frame to keep fed.
“I bought a new wagon today.”
“Fascinating.” She turned to Felicity. “Little Colton must be sound asleep. I’ve haven’t heard his wails for at least an hour.”
Felicity set her fork down, her eyes wavering. From her look, Lana wondered if she was offended at her remark about Colton’s crying or just tired of this farce.
“Tell us about your wagon, Matthew,” Josh jumped in. He raised a large spoonful of mashed potatoes covered in gravy to his face and scooped them into his mouth. A look of pure pleasure crossed his face. She still couldn’t believe Felicity had figured out how to cook. Even more of a surprise is that her brother still didn’t know she had had to learn to cook so quickly.
“Well, it’s quite nice. It’s got this nice padded seat I had added on it. I thought it might be nice to take for a drive.” Matthew turned to look at her. “If you like, Miss Garrett.”
Lana had been busy yawning when she stopped at this last comment. Heat traveled up her spine as she clenched her fork. She could feel Mathew’s and everyone's stares drilling into her. This was ridiculous. How much clearer could she make her disinterest known? But no one wanted to listen to her. She jumped to her feet and clenched the sides of her skirt. “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well. May I please be excused.”
She rushed out the door, making it slam behind her. She had made it to the stairs when her brother called out her name.
She spun around and focused on him as he marched towards her, a deep glare in his eyes. “How could you be so rude?”
“Me? How could I be so rude? I’ve made my feelings known and you all are forcing me into things I want no part of.” She pointed her finger like a dagger to the dining room where everyone else sat. “You’ve all ignored what I said.”
“You could at least not treat our guest with such scorn.”
“Maybe you shouldn't have set him up for it.”
She spun on her heels flying up the stairs leaving her brother just to stare at her back. She rushed to her room, slamming the door behind her. She fell onto her bed and the tears started flowing. Tears of pain and longing.
She clenched the blankets in her hands, wishing she could just rip them apart. She was so angry she wanted to do some big damage to something.
How could they do this to her? They knew her heart belonged to another, and yet they tried to foist another man on her. She couldn't give up on Max. Not even if Max gave up on her. The door to her room opened, and heavy steps announced her brother's presence. The bed creaked as he sat next to her.
“Lana, I’m sorry. I just want what’s best for you,” he said, his voice much calmer.
“Then leave me alone, Josh.”
“I just don’t want you pinning all your hopes on someone so far away. Have you thought of why he didn’t come when he said he would?”
She wiped her wet face with the bedding and then closed her eyes in sadness. Once again, pain sliced through her. He had said something had come up, but he never said what. Was she being an easy mark, hoping he still held at least some affection for her?
Even if she wasn’t waiting on Max, that didn’t mean she should let a man she had no interest in pursue her.
The bed creaked as her brother stood. “Just think about it, please, Felicity. That’s all I ask.”
Her brother’s footsteps filled the room, as he walked to the door, opening and closing it. He didn’t have to worry. All she ever did was think about it. The problem was she just couldn’t figure out why things had gone so wrong.
Chapter 7
Days later, Lana walked into her room and closed the door. She stilled, listening for the soft patter of Felicity's feet or Josh’s heavy thumps. But nothing disturbed the silence outside her room. She walked to her bed, pushed up the old faded quilt, and slipped the box out, picking up her most recent journal, manuscript, and a bell.
Running her thumb over the smooth brown leather, she walked back to the door and placed the bell on it. This bell would let her know if anyone tried to intrude on her time. She walked to her desk, dipped a pen in the inkwell, and bit on her bottom lip as she opened the book. She had just a few more pages to copy, and then she would head out to town to mail off her latest manuscript. She should have finished it by now, but Felicity was always needing help with Colton or cooking, constantly pushing open her door, and making her fictional worlds disappear.
But earlier Felicity had said she wanted to lie down before driving into town and Josh was seeing to the cattle, so Lana should finally have the peace and quiet she craved.
Lana began to write, letting the story unfold. She wove the details of how Miss Lily Abbott realized that her previous opinion of Mr. Parker Allen had been unfounded. He wasn’t rude, just shy. She realized this as he helped to save a young girl’s reputation from a cruel outlaw. This outlaw had started the most unladylike rumor about the girl.
She finished the last scene detailing how Miss Lily admitted her love for the lonely rancher and became his wife. On their wedding day, Lily threw herself into his arms, and ran her hands through his dark hair, knocking off his hat. Soon she was lost in his dark blue eyes.
She laid her pen down, just as a ring sounded. Lana slammed her manuscript over and spun around as Felicity pushed open the door. Her heart sped up when Felicity’s gazed locked onto the manuscript. She’d tried to hide it under her journal and the quilt, glancing at her friend with an almost guilty look on her face.
Felicity glanced down at her son and began rocking a well-bundled up Colton while the little fellow gnawed on her shoulder. “Are you ready? I’ve been waiting downstairs for about twenty minutes.”
Had it been two hours already? But it must have been, for why else would Felicity had come looking for her? Lana looked down at her desk, hoping Felicity couldn’t see the words she had written. “Just give me a second. I need to get my next letter to Max ready.”
Felicity bent her head to the side. “That’s a mighty large letter.”
Lana’s gaze snapped up, her heart rate increasing again. A smirked crossed her friend’s face before she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
She knew something was going on. Did she suspect her friend wasted her time writing romance stories? Lana fumbled with the edge of her manuscript, loving the feel of the crisp brown paper and pen-scratched words. To her, this scent was as lovely as rose water. What would she do if her family found out? If they did, she would have to make them see the value of her work.
Did it really have value, though? She hadn’t had anyone from the few publishers she’d sent it to tell her it was good. Three had refused it. Two others hadn’t even bothered to reply. So far, nobody was even agreeing to read it. She was trying not to lose her self-confidence, but it was getting more difficult.
How she wanted to share her imagination and have others read about true love. Maybe writing more would help her in some way. She hoped her family would be more willing to let her go to New York and try to find a publisher. She did have money saved up from teaching voice lessons to some of the young ladies of Cutter’s Creek. That should be enough to get her to New York. Then she could stay with Mr. Hightower. Surely, he’d let her. He had to have female servants so it wouldn’t be completely improper. Things were a little different in New York, anyway.
She picked up her manuscript and placed it in a small box, sealing it. She wrote the name of the publisher she was sending it to, a publisher she had found in a New Yo
rk literary journal. Once sealed, she slipped the box under her arm and grabbed her coat and mittens, making her way down the stairs.
As she made her way to the foyer, she spotted her brother and Felicity standing so close together one couldn’t see any space in between them. Josh ran a hand down Felicity’s cheek, making a smile come to her friend's face. A glow seemed to cover his face as he whispered to her words of love.
A pang of jealousy filled Lana. Would she ever experience that kind of sweet intimacy with Max? Have him look at her with such love again?
It had now been two months since she last received a letter. She had sent him two in the in-between time, and now she had another to send him. If there wasn’t one today, then what would she do? Give up? That thought alone sent pain slicing through her. How could she give up on him? But she couldn’t just wither away while she waited on a man who may never come back to her. Later, after they settled in the wagon, Lana tried to ignore the happy couple who snuggled up to each other with baby Colton firmly in Josh’s arms as Felicity drove. But each giggle and touch made her jealousy fester.
Once in town, she hopped from the wagon, ignoring Felicity’s calls. She wanted to get as far away from them as she could. She gripped her package tightly and rushed towards the post office. She weaved in and out between the people in her way, all dressed in warm winter coats and hats. Several greeted her, but she just rushed by, ignoring them.
Matthew walked down the street on his way back to work, a smudge of black soot on his face. He called out after her, but she raced into the post office without looking back.
The building she noticed had just received a new coat of whitewash but that didn’t matter at the moment. She was in a hurry. She raced to the long counter and slammed her package down. Oliver Johnston came from around the other side of the room with a full smile on his face. His gaze latched onto her. “Miss Garrett. It’s a pleasure to see you today. How might I help you?”
“Is there a letter for me?”