The Drifter

by Lisa Plumley

  They shook hands, and parted on good terms.

  Avalanche’s sheriff stepped forward next, flanked by Mayor Westley. He inclined his head toward Graham, and gave him a no-nonsense look.

  “You reconsider that deputy offer, you hear?” he commanded. “I could use a man like you, ’specially for posses and such. We might not get whole passels of desperadoes riding through Avalanche on a regular basis, but we do take care of our own.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Graham told him, putting forward his hand. The sheriff took it in his crushing grasp, and they shook. “All the same, I’ve stayed here too long.”

  The gathered men shuffled their feet and nodded. A few muttered agreement. None of their eyes met his, though, and Graham knew why.

  He hadn’t explained about Julia.

  They were understandably curious, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to speak of her. What could he say? That Julia had decided he wasn’t good enough to wed her, even temporarily? That she’d released him with a letter before she embarrassed herself with a drifting man who had no notion of family, and wasn’t likely to get one?

  Hell, no. With confessions like that, a man didn’t need a rogue bullet to lay him down. He took care of the shooting himself.

  “Ride safe,” Jonas Farmer said from his place beside the unlighted potbellied stove. He raised his callused hand. “We’ll welcome you, if you come back.”

  Graham nodded, keeping his expression stern. With luck, no one would detect the dull ache that had dogged him since entering the livery stable this morning, to find word of his leaving had already spread through town, and every man he knew had stopped work to gather there for a goodbye. ’Twas uncommonly good of these men, men he had known but a month and would likely never see again. He would miss them, too.

  “I’ll not be coming back,” Graham said gruffly. He dragged on his hat and, followed in twos and threes by the men of Avalanche, led his horse into the livery stable yard. “A bounty hunter can’t afford to return to the same town twice.”

  They all nodded, making Graham feel twice as low-down for the falsehood he’d just delivered. It wasn’t bad enough that he’d deceived everyone here with his courtship of Julia Bennett. Now he had to leave this place on a lie, as well.

  With a disgusted frown, Graham swung into his saddle.

  Amidst the well-wishes surrounding him, he gazed into the distance. Despite his sorriest hopes, no yellow-clad woman with a bonnet big enough to topple her over hurried down Main Street. No feminine voice called for him to stay, in the same husky tones he remembered from last night.

  ’Twas true then.

  He was free.

  He should have been glad, Graham told himself as his horse shifted beneath him, impatient to be gone. He should have been relieved, not to be expected to deliver on a staying kind of promise, even for so short a time. If he’d been right about himself all along, he wouldn’t have been capable of settling down with Julia even for a day, anyway.

  For the last time, Graham pushed back the niggling curiosity that had plagued him…could he have done it? Could he, a foundling child and lifelong wanderer, have found the strength inside himself to commit to a whole new life?

  Well, now he would never know. Savagely, Graham turned his mind to other things, and made himself stop looking for Julia. He’d lost her. For all he knew, he’d never had her to begin with. Not truly.

  He raised his hand in a solemn salute to the men who’d befriended him. He took one final look around the only town where he’d ever felt the beginnings of peace. And then, with a muttered curse and a mighty scowl, Graham Corley rode away from Avalanche and toward a future he didn’t really want.

  His last thought, as he struck the winding trail leading outside of town, was a self-mocking one: As he’d blown out his first-ever birthday candles, Graham had wished for Julia, he recalled. Now, he knew better.

  He’d wished for Julia, and had gotten her—for one long, magical night. He should have wished, Graham realized now…for Julia to want him, in return.

  Julia had scarcely finished explaining the whole awful truth of her misbegotten plan to wed Mr. Corley, annul her marriage to the bounty hunter, and then travel to New York alone, before her papa interrupted her.

  “And you thought this scheme of yours was a sound one?” With obvious astonishment, Asa Bennett lowered his cigar and gaped at Julia over its smoldering tip. “Whatever possessed you, child?”

  “I—I wanted to please you,” Julia said. “You wanted me to be happy. You wanted me to have a husband, and I…well, I’m afraid none of the men in town would oblige me. I…asked.”

  There. The embarrassing, awful truth was said. None of the men in Avalanche had been willing to take odd-ball Julia Bennett to their hearts. Not even for money. And now, the two people whom Julia most wanted to think well of her knew it. Papa and Aunt Geneva knew exactly how undesirable she was to everyone in town.

  No doubt they soundly pitied her.

  Or would, once they recovered from their anger.

  Her voice barely echoed from the papered parlor walls, so low and miserable was it. She cast her papa a pleading look, twisting her hands on the handkerchief she’d pulled from her reticule. It was one of Mr. Corley’s, tucked there after he’d comforted her last night. She felt like never letting it go.

  “And I wanted to be away from here,” Julia continued, still hoping to make her family understand. “Far away. I’m happiest in the East, Papa. Where no one knows me.”

  Where no one dislikes me for being a person I cannot help being.

  “Being unknown is preferable to being with your family?” Aunt Geneva asked. Her wounded look cut deeply. “We knew you would be stimulated by attending Vassar, and a higher education was what your mother wanted for you, too. But this…I never expected you to turn away from us completely.”

  “It’s not that!” Julia cried. “Please, you must understand. I would have missed you both. Terribly. And of course I’d have come back for visits. But you and Papa…you have your own lives, Aunt Geneva. You cannot be responsible for mine.”

  Aunt Geneva twisted her lips, seeming to begrudgingly accept the truth of that. They talked further, at length, about Julia’s plans, her thwarted desires to be accepted in Avalanche, her finding Mr. Corley in the municipal park, and striking her bargain with him. By the time Alice had brought them all tea and sandwiches, and every crumb had been consumed, Julia and her family had reached a tentative accord.

  “I have to confess,” Aunt Geneva said finally, brushing a sprinkle of sugar from her skirts, “that Mr. Corley did not seem to be fulfilling a bargain when he was with you. He seemed to be falling in love with you.”

  And you, with him, her expression added.

  Julia’s heart softened. She wanted to weep with despair.

  “Of course it seemed that way to you, Aunt Geneva,” she said quietly. “We were still amidst our bargain then. Graham—Mr. Corley—can be profoundly persuasive, when he wishes to be.”

  My, could he be persuasive!

  “Nevertheless, I have my doubts.” Aunt Geneva gave a resigned shrug, and sipped her tea. “I may be a spinster, but I’ve known a love affair, or two, in my time.”

  Beside her on the parlor love seat, Asa Bennett didn’t raise so much as an eyebrow at his sister-in-law’s blithe admission. In fact, he seemed utterly unsurprised by it. As Julia watched, her papa lit another cigar. He tipped the ashes into the nearby dish, and regarded Julia thoughtfully.

  “Judging by what you’ve told me,” he said slowly, “your scheme with the bounty hunter ended this morning.”

  Julia nodded, fighting the heated blush that rose to her cheeks. She’d mentioned only to her papa and Aunt Geneva that she’d gone walking for most of the day to think things through, and that she’d left a goodbye note for Graham early this morning, breaking their engagement. The circumstances preceding that, she’d chosen to omit. She wasn’t ready to share the private hours she’d spent wit
h Graham…and even if she had been, Julia would have thought it unwise to confide such intimacies as that.

  Her father cleared his throat, ending her musings.

  “Then Mr. Corley was not fulfilling his end of your bargain,” Asa Bennett continued, “when he came here to speak with me an hour ago. Nor when he left this, for you.”

  Her papa withdrew a roughly folded envelope from his suit coat pocket. He tapped it thoughtfully against his palm for a moment, then slid it across the parlor table toward Julia.

  She stared at it, mesmerized by the sight of the familiar, masculine scrawl that labeled it with her name.

  Graham, here? But why?

  “Mr. Corley was here? Only an hour ago?”

  Asa nodded.

  Then it had been him she’d seen walking away! A new regret seized her. She could have followed him, could have made certain for herself that he was all right…no, Julia told herself. Doubtless Graham was fine without her. Happier, perhaps.

  With trembling fingers she picked up the envelope. Curiously reluctant to open it, she turned it over in her hands as her papa and Aunt Geneva watched.

  “Did he say what this is?” she asked.

  Her papa blew out a stream of richly scented cigar smoke, and shook his head. “Only that he wanted you to have it. I thought it was merely a bridegroom’s note…although it’s a bit bulky for that.”

  Julia rubbed her thumb over the envelope. It was bulky, as though filled with something more than a single sheet of paper. It would serve her right if it was a happy note, requiring reams of paper to describe Graham’s relief accurately. But there was something about the sharp slash of her name as he’d written it on the front…something decidedly unhappy.

  Decisively, Julia slit the seal with her fingertip and opened it. Drawing in a deep breath, she reached inside and withdrew the contents.

  A pile of bank notes filled her hand.

  She stared at them in confusion. “Money?”

  Aunt Geneva leaned forward to retrieve a piece of currency that had fallen to the rug. She returned it to Julia. “Several inches of money,” she clarified with a bemused expression. “More than I’ve seen in quite a while.”

  “More than used to be contained in your trust, I’ll wager,” Asa commented.

  “Used to be contained?” Julia snapped her head up, her gaze swerving from the befuddling pile of money to her father. “What do you mean, used to be contained?”

  Her papa and Aunt Geneva shared a fretful look. He breathed deeply, then stared at the glowing tip of his cigar for a long moment.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Julia,” he said. “But your trust money is gone—”

  “Gone?”

  “—spent to finance your education in the East.” His shoulders sagged a bit as he squinted at her through a tendril of smoke. “It simply didn’t extend as far as your mother had hoped, and there was only so much I could contribute. My pharmacy is doing well. Especially with the new soda fountain. But not that well.”

  “What?” Utterly at a loss, Julia gawped at him. “But—but you were planning to release the rest of the money to me when I married. You said you—”

  He waved a hand. “I’d hoped you would forget about that. And I wish I could have. Why do you think I insisted on your finding yourself a good husband?”

  “It was because we were worried about you, that’s true,” Aunt Geneva said. “But also because your trust money had already been spent. We needed to make sure you would be taken care of.”

  Taken care of. That’s what Julia had intended to do for herself, with her plan to return East and secure a position at Beadle’s Magazine. Now, suddenly, she saw things in an entirely new light.

  “I hope you can forgive me,” Asa continued, gazing at her fondly. “For misleading you this way. I didn’t want you to worry, and that’s why I—”

  “Oh, Papa! Of course I forgive you!” Still clutching the thick wad of money, Julia leapt from her chair and went to her father. She lowered herself beside the love seat and hugged him close, savoring the security of his familiar embrace. “How could I not?”

  “Perhaps because I’m an impossible, meddling schemer who thinks he knows what’s right for everyone around him?”

  She laughed, as did Aunt Geneva. Smiling, Julia leaned away and regarded her papa affectionately. “At least now I know I come by such traits naturally,” she teased.

  Aunt Geneva laughed louder.

  “Except in my case,” Julia added, “I also always think I’m right about things, too.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Geneva asked, raising a brow.

  “Guilty,” Asa said, grinning. “Except I am right.”

  A loving feeling filled the room, turning the parlor cozy and welcoming where it had at first been dark and stifling. With a great sense of relief, Julia returned to her chair to ponder Mr. Corley’s unexpected offering.

  She ran her thumb over the edge of the currency stack, watching as the high-denomination bills fluttered past. Truly, this was a great deal of money. More than she’d ever seen, all in one place. But why?

  As she examined it, a scrap of folded paper fell out. Frowning, Julia bent to retrieve it.

  “A note?” Aunt Geneva asked.

  “I think so.” Julia unfolded it, her heart pounding. “We’d been practicing handwriting so that Mr. Corley could correspond with his friend Frankie, and…”

  Her voice faded as she glimpsed the brief message.

  “What does it say?” her papa asked.

  “Asa, really!” Geneva scolded. “I’m sure it’s private.”

  “It’s…” Julia gazed at it, then ran her fingertips tenderly over the harshly angled writing. Already she missed Graham, and he’d scarcely left. “He means for me to have this money,” she said slowly. “To head East as I’d planned. He wants…he wants me to be happy.”

  Geneva sighed. Her papa grunted and smoked his cigar. Julia closed her eyes, the note’s message already a part of her memory forever.

  Follow your dream. I believe in you.

  Graham had left her this money as proof of that belief, knowing that once she’d ended their engagement, her trust funds would not be released to her. He’d met her sacrifice with one of his own. The realization of it humbled Julia…and made her understand something more, as well.

  Her dream was not going away, or leaving Avalanche. It was not living in New York, or writing an etiquette column for Beadle’s Magazine—her books kept her quite happily occupied, now that Julia considered it, and she didn’t really require anything more. Her dream was being accepted, being loved. And she’d already found that.

  Found it, and set it free.

  “I think I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Julia said suddenly, rising from her chair. Currency floated to the floor at her movement, but she paid it no mind. “A terrible, terrible mistake.”

  Aunt Geneva raised an eyebrow. “Exactly what did you do to earn those greenbacks, child?”

  “Oh, Aunt Geneva! It’s nothing like that.” Stifling a chuckle at her aunt’s ribald-sounding suggestion, Julia began stuffing the money back into the envelope. “But I was wrong, all the same. I can see it so clearly now.”

  You can’t admit you’re wrong, she remembered Graham telling her. So long as you close your eyes to it, it will continue to be true.

  He’d been right, Julia saw now. But today, her eyes had been opened. She would not go back and repeat her mistakes of the past. Because of her time with Graham, she’d learned a great deal about herself…and she’d grown, too. Grown into a woman who gave love, accepted love—and understood when drastic action was called for.

  “What are you going to do?” her papa asked.

  Geneva leaned forward. “Yes, what?”

  “I’m going to follow my dream,” Julia announced. “My true dream. And I’m going to need some help to do it.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Nestled into the side of a mountain range as it was, Landsli
de, Arizona Territory was not quite as picturesque as its neighboring town of Avalanche. Where Avalanche was pine-and-oak-studded and almost entirely painted, Landslide’s ramshackle buildings were dug halfway into the steep rock face or perched partway on stilt supports. And instead of farmers and merchants, its streets and houses were filled with miners who worked Matt Chance’s famously productive copper mine, along with a few renegade souls who’d chosen to mine alone.

  Its saloons and gambling houses sported a far greater number of miscreants and desperadoes, though. And its freight wagons were dogged by a much larger contingent of thieves, all hoping to secure a piece of the Chance family wealth for themselves. Those were the things that had drawn Graham Corley to town, and they were the things, he pondered now, that just might convince him to stay.

  He’d have near-steady work, he told himself as he strode away from the bank where he’d just collected his latest fugitive capture reward. None other than Matt Chance himself had offered Graham a position protecting payroll shipments and safeguarding the transportation of mining officials to and from town. And chances of running short of female company were slim, thanks to the four brothels doing brisk business here.

  Whiskey, women and work. Yep, in a town like Landslide a rough-and-tumble drifting man like himself could have everything he wanted, Graham figured. He pocketed his money and continued onward, pulling his hat down to avoid being drawn into unwelcome conversation. Everything except what he truly needed.

  Julia.

  He’d thought of her often, over campfires during too many lonely nights, and in the empty spaces between one town and the next. She was never far from his thoughts…nor were the things she’d taught him. Not reading, or writing, important as those skills were. But other things. Things about himself.

  He could settle down, Graham knew now. Not in spite of his past, but maybe because of it. His wandering days had fulfilled something he’d needed, and in the end they’d shown him something more. They’d taken him to Avalanche, where he’d dared to stand still for the space of many days’ worth of riding. He’d survived it. He’d thrived on it. And Graham had changed beneath its influence.