Under a Falling Star

by Caroline Fyffe

  A woman on Albert’s end of the congregation, with a small boy in tow, began edging closer to where Albert and Reverend Wilbrand stood. Albert slid the top of the coffin to the side, and leaned over to look inside.

  Floria’s once-flawless white skin was chalk-like and dull. She looked peaceful—and for that, Albert was glad. Grief he hadn’t known he could feel for her swamped him. He hoped she hadn’t suffered. She was still, even after five years and all that had transpired between them, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

  “Reverend? Sheriff?”

  The middle-aged woman who’d called out to them stood just a few feet away. She held the hand of a small boy about four or five years old.

  “Albert,” Reverend Wilbrand said softly, as if he already knew the outcome. “Is she . . . was she—”

  He wiped a hand across his face. “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Floria Brooks,” the unknown woman said softly, gesturing to the coffin. “Is she kin of yours? She was seated one row ahead of me on the train, and this is her son. Since they were traveling alone, the porter asked if I’d look after him for the time being until they figured out what to do.”

  Her son! A tidal wave of sensations crashed through Albert’s mind. The boy looked to be the correct age if he’d been conceived before he and Floria had separated. She’d been spiteful in all aspects of her life, so why wouldn’t she keep such an important fact from him?

  His heart swelled as he took in the lad’s stoic expression that said he’d been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for far too long. His oval-shaped face and light-chestnut hair were two giveaways, but his wide, intelligent eyes, the same sandalwood color, dark brown with slivers of amber, just like his and Win’s, removed any doubt. Above those were the distinctive Preston eyebrows.

  His son. His and Floria’s.

  The woman straightened her shoulders. “Sheriff?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

  Albert nodded. “Yes, ma’am, it’s the Floria Brooks I know. I’m her next of kin.”

  A tentative smile appeared. “I’m so relieved to hear that. I’m traveling to California and wasn’t sure what I should do with the child. He must have a father or other relatives back wherever they’re from. Now you can see that he gets safely home. These clothes are all he has, until you retrieve his belonging off the train.” She leaned in close so only he could hear. “He’s been crying for his mother every night, saying she’s lost in the train. I explained the best I could that she was dead, but he keeps saying we need to help her.”

  She led the child forward, intent on handing him over then and there. Bending, she kissed his forehead. “Here you go, Nate. Didn’t I tell you everything would work out?” She tenderly placed her hand on his cheek. “You be a good boy for the sheriff and mind your manners.” Just as she was about to retreat, she stopped. “How did you say you’re related? An uncle or cousin?”

  Albert couldn’t stop himself from hunkering down to the boy’s level to look him in the eyes. He wished he could soothe away his grief-stricken expression. “No, not an uncle.” Albert smiled to put the boy at ease. “Is it Nate or Nathaniel?” he asked quietly. The redness of his eyes tore at Albert’s heart.

  “Nate,” the child responded.

  “Sheriff?” the woman asked. She wasn’t handing Nate over to just anyone, not even a lawman. Her protectiveness touched him deeply.

  Albert looked up at her with a nod. “I’m the boy’s father. You needn’t worry over him any longer.”

  Even though Albert knew Susanna was too far away to hear any of the conversation, the people next to them could. It wasn’t more than half a second before a surprised murmur rippled through the ranks. Well, he’d found out what he needed to know, and so much more. He put out his hand and his son placed his small, warm one inside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  It’s the sheriff’s son!” the man standing in front of Susanna said to his companion. “Don’t that just beat all. Thank goodness they found him or the boy could’a ended up in an orphanage.” Another murmured word caught her attention several times. Wife, wife . . . wife?

  Susanna blinked. What? She stared at the scene playing out before her eyes. Hannah reached over and took her arm, pulling her close. “Wait until you hear all the facts, Susanna,” Hannah said softly. “Maybe they overheard it wrong. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.”

  Susanna turned to face her friends. “Did you know Albert had been married?” She searched their faces. “Did you know, Thom? You work with him every day.”

  “No, this is the first I’ve heard,” he said. Hannah, Brenna, and Greg shook their heads no.

  Reverend Wilbrand took up his place, and said a few words Susanna didn’t hear. He gave the signal, and Win and the men took up the rope and began lowering the coffins into their graves.

  It was impossible not to watch Albert and the boy. He was darling, an exact replica of the larger man. Her heart ached with want, which only confused her more. After all this time, Albert had never said a thing about a wife, or a child! Why? She felt duped and embarrassed. So deep in thought she almost forgot about the flowers she held, and the promise she’d made to Julia.

  Rattled, Susanna hurried forward just as Win and the other men slipped the ropes beneath Miss Biddy Lafont’s coffin. Susanna glanced at Reverend Wilbrand. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  She laid the blooms atop the pinewood box at the exact moment the breeze caught one blossom, dropping it into Miss Biddy’s grave. Susanna watched it go. How strange. How strange life is. Here today and gone tomorrow. And Albert? What about him? He has a son—and a wife? What else about him don’t I know?

  With a pounding heart, and head held high, she turned and met the pitying gazes of her friends. She kept her eyes trained far away from where Albert and the boy stood. Walking back, she glanced down the hill to the bank on Main Street where Dalton stood guard. A swell of melancholy rocked her. In shock, she took up a new spot on the fringe of the gathering and ignored Mrs. Hollyhock’s sympathetic gaze.

  The service continued. The men worked steadily, lowering each coffin. The cloudless sky looked the same as it did five minutes ago, but everything else had changed.

  Finished with their arduous chore, and amid the wailing of the people, Reverend Wilbrand began a prayer. “Go forth, Christian souls, from this world in the name of God the almighty Father, who created you, in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who suffered for you, in the name of the Holy Spirit, who was poured out upon you. May you live in peace this day, and may your home be with God in Zion from this day hence.”

  He began the first notes of “Amazing Grace” and soon other voices joined his deep baritone and others began to disperse to the graves. Women hid their faces in the shirts of their men, or cradled their children close, their grief a living, breathing entity. Susanna hadn’t lost a loved one to death, but felt as if she’d lost Albert in another way. He appeared out of the crowd with the boy in his arms, the child’s small face turned against his neck.

  “Susanna?” His gaze searched hers.

  Whatever she was feeling at the moment, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and placing a comforting hand on the boy’s back. “What’s his name?”

  “Nate.”

  “And the woman?” She hadn’t been able to stop the question. Maybe she was an aunt, or guardian.

  “His mother.”

  “Walk with me—us,” Albert said, wanting to keep Susanna close. Who knew what the next hour would bring? Her clouded expression as she struggled to hold back tears sliced him to the quick, knowing he’d put it there. “I know I have some explaining to do, but I hope you’ll agree to wait until we have a little privacy.”

  Her gaze flicked over to where their friends watched. She nodded.

  “Thank you.” He turned and ushered her toward the trail that led down the hill. Nate trembled, and Albert thought he must be terrified in the arms of a stranger, his mot
her dead, far from their hometown. They began their descent on the path to town, the rich, dark soil beneath their feet sprouting with new growth. Signs of spring were everywhere. A dark contrast to what so many were feeling after burying their loved ones.

  “What will you do with him? Where will you live?” Susanna asked softly.

  “I’ve been thinking about that since the moment he took my hand.” He rubbed his son’s small back, needing to comfort him. “I guess Nate and I’ll just have to talk about that.”

  Susanna gave him a sideways glance. “Above the sheriff’s office is no place for a child being it’s next door to the saloon.”

  He shrugged. “I agree, but what else can I do?”

  They were almost to the bottom of the hill, approaching the bakery, the small clapboard building on Main where the path to the church came out. Dr. Thorn’s office was opposite. Lettie must be frying donuts today because a delicious aroma filled the air.

  “Now that Greg has moved in with Brenna, why don’t you see if Maude has plans for her small rental,” Susanna said. “It would be perfect for the two of you.”

  But I want it for the three of us, Albert thought, aware she was avoiding the obvious topic of discussion. The last time they’d talked, she’d said she had something she wanted to tell him. She’d gazed at his lips. Had all that changed? “That’s a good idea.”

  The smile she gave wasn’t real. She was hurting, and needed answers, but he couldn’t go into it with Nate huddled in his arms. He veered for the front door of the bakery. “Come on, I think we all could use some cheering up.”

  “I should get back. Julia will want to know that the service is over and how it went.”

  He couldn’t let her go when they were on such unsteady footing. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Please.”

  When she nodded, he pushed open the door and then stood back, letting Susanna lead the way. Inside, the air heavily scented with sugar and cinnamon made moisture spring into his mouth. He removed his hat.

  Nate picked up his head and looked around.

  Albert smiled. “Smell good?”

  The boy nodded, but kept his eyes trained far away from his own. Nate must wonder why his father had never come to see him. How could Albert explain without damaging his mother’s memory? What kind of lies might Floria have told him? He set him on his feet.

  Lettie, with her usual friendly smile and flour-covered apron, hustled around behind the counter, gathering up several donuts for the woman in front of them. The baker wrapped her creations in paper and tied them up with a string. The transaction was completed and the woman left.

  “Hello, Sheriff, Susanna, sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve hardly had a chance to breathe since opening today. There was a lull in business for the funeral, but we’re picking back up again. This is the first time there hasn’t been a line halfway to the door.” When her gaze dropped to Nate, her smile ebbed. “An orphan from the train?” she mouthed to Albert.

  “No, this is my son, Nate Preston.”

  Lettie’s eyes popped open. “Your son?”

  A hundred questions flashed across Lettie’s face but Albert wasn’t about to go into great detail until he had a chance to explain things to Susanna.

  Nate looked up at Albert for a few seconds, then through the glass case at Lettie. “Nate Brooks.”

  Seemed the boy didn’t say much, but he wasn’t hard of hearing.

  “I see,” Albert said. “Fine then, we’ll get to that later. For now, we need three donuts please.” He gazed into the case. “It’s looking pretty sparse.”

  Nate stepped forward and put his hands on the glass. “Slim pickings at best.”

  Albert exchanged an amused look with Susanna as Lettie sputtered, “I’m sorry, but these are all I have until I fry some more.” There were eight donuts to choose from. “I’ve been running nonstop all day. The mercantile is almost out of everything I need.”

  “There should be a buckboard coming in soon with supplies from New Meringue,” Albert said. “That should help.”

  Relief moved Lettie’s face. “That’s good to hear, Sheriff. Now, which one would you like, Nate?” she asked, directing her question to the child. Albert could only see the back of Nate’s head as he tried to make a decision.

  He had a son! It was still so hard to believe. He regretted that he’d missed his early life, and just hoped they could forge a strong bond henceforth. Had Floria loved him, been kind to him?

  Nate pointed to a dark-chocolate donut drizzled with a white glaze.

  “A fine choice, young man,” Lettie said with a smile. She took it out and put it on a plate. “Susanna?”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  “Me too,” Albert agreed. Amazement washed though him as he realized he was smiling. It was impossible not to as Nate’s gaze followed Lettie around like a bird watching a bug. Both tables were vacant, so they settled at the clean one. Before he knew it, Nate’s donut was gone and his cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel gathering nuts for the winter.

  “Susanna, I’m sorry about missing our walk Sunday night. It totally slipped my mind.”

  “I understand. Everyone has had more than his share of things dumped in their lap. Especially you.”

  “Will you come by when you’re off your shift today, so we can talk?” he asked. If she said no, he didn’t know what he would do.

  “I’m more interested in seeing that this little man is settled in properly. Everything else can wait.”

  So, she was playing it safe. He couldn’t blame her in the least. “I agree. But our talking is important too. I promise, I won’t keep you long.”

  He didn’t want to beg, but their relationship was at a critical turning point. The image of her with Babcock was still fresh in his mind. Could her reluctance to talk stem more from that than her shock over the recent revelations?

  “Susanna?”

  She watched Nate lick his finger, then dab at the crumbs on his plate. She lifted her gaze to his. “Yes, I’ll come by.”

  “What time?”

  “Six o’clock.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Tired after standing guard since nine this morning, Dalton watched Albert come down the path that led from the cemetery with Susanna by his side and a child in his arms. The three went into the bakery across the street from the bank. He settled his shoulder against the porch post, his gaze on the bakery door, recalling the way Susanna had felt wrapped in his embrace after the incident with the Chinese launderer.

  Had she sensed the connection between them, or had she been too rattled by the rough encounter? For him, the years since he’d seen her melted away like magic. She’d stirred his blood, and his thoughts for the remainder of the day had been about her.

  A man exited the saloon, crossed the narrow alley and turned, intending to enter the bank.

  “Hold up,” Dalton said.

  The man turned to him. “What?”

  “You’ll have to leave your sidearm out here with me.”

  The cowboy’s eyes narrowed. “What’re you talking about?”

  Dalton pointed to a sign Albert had written and posted next to the door.

  NO GUNS IN THE BANK BY ORDER OF THE SHERIFF.

  Dalton held out his hand. The cowboy was lean and a bit windblown. Dalton hadn’t seen him in town before today. “You’ll have to hand it over.”

  The man’s hand dropped possessively to the handle of his .45 Colt. “I’m not giving you my gun.”

  Dalton clenched his jaw. He’d been nice and polite, just as Frank had asked. No one else had taken offense at the request, knowing the sheriff was only looking out for the large amount of money locked up in the vault, as well as everyone’s safety. Why should this fella be different? “Then you won’t be banking today.” Dalton took a small step forward. “Period.”

  “Thanks again, Mr. Lloyd.” A gravelly voice from inside wafted out followed by an older gentleman.

  “My pleasure. Taking out a loan is as e
asy as that. I look forward to seeing you each month.” The farmer-type secured his dented hat on his head, then smiled politely at Dalton. Frank Lloyd stepped out after him.

  Frank shuffled to a stop when he saw the fellow Dalton had stopped. A big grin split his face and he clapped the man on the shoulder. “Seth Cotton, it’s good to see you. How’re things out at the ranch?”

  The angry tilt to Seth Cotton’s face morphed into a knowing satisfaction. He thought he was about to have his way. “Just fine, Frank. I’ve been busy, so this was my first opportunity to get to town in two weeks. A shame about the train, and all those people dying.” His gaze darted to Dalton, then back to Frank.

  “And your cough?”

  “Seems to be easing up some. Doc has had me drinking an awful-tasting elixir for the past few months. Nell’s plenty happy about it.”

  “Ivy, too?”

  Seth chuckled. “You bet.”

  Dalton relaxed, listening to the conversation, absolutely sure Mr. Cotton was just going to try and amble his way in on the shirttails of his friend. That wasn’t going to happen on Dalton’s watch.

  Frank glanced his way. “Have the two of you met?”

  Dalton smiled. “Not officially.”

  “Well, let me do the honors. Seth, this is Dalton Babcock. Came in on the train and is guardian over the money I’m sure you’ve heard all about. Dalton, Seth Cotton is Charlie Axelrose’s brother-in-law. You know Charlie.”

  So, he was almost family. “Sure I do. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cotton.”

  The fella smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wasn’t finished yet either.

  Frank turned on his heel and began to enter. “Have you come to make a payment?”

  “That’s right.”

  Frank didn’t notice the tension in the man’s voice, but Dalton caught it.

  As he stepped forward to follow Frank, Dalton reached out an arm. “Your gun?” He couldn’t keep the irritation from his tone.

  Frank turned. “Dalton, Seth’s a trusted friend.”