Under a Falling Star

by Caroline Fyffe

  “I’m just following the sheriff’s orders. Besides, you want to set an example for everyone else to argue? It’s not a good idea.”

  A staring match ensued.

  “He has a point, Seth.”

  Five minutes later, Seth Cotton stepped out of the bank, followed by Frank. Dalton handed the man his gun and he strode away—without a word being said.

  Frank cleared his throat. “So, how’s the watch going?”

  “Besides Seth Cotton, haven’t heard a peep. I’m starting to think we don’t have a thing to worry about. That said, I’ll be a happy man when the soldiers finally show up.”

  Frank looked up and down the street. “Agreed. And the representative from Denver. I’ve always dreamed of what it would feel like to have a million dollars in my bank, and now I know. I’d just as soon be a small bank again.”

  Dalton nodded, still a bit put off by how Frank had tried to get around the new ordinance for a friend. He decided to shift his thinking to a more pleasant subject. “Can I ask you a nonbusiness question, Frank?”

  Frank snapped his gaze from the hill where men worked filling in the graves, and a few mourners still lingered in the cemetery. “Of course. What is it?”

  “I’d like to know more about Susanna Robinson. We grew up together. I’ll admit, I liked her back then, and seeing her again has made me realize I’ve never stopped. Running into her now, out of the blue, almost feels like a sign.”

  “A sign?”

  Two doors down, Beth Fairington came out of the mercantile, and smiled at him, something she’d been doing for most of the day. Frank chuckled.

  Dalton ignored the amusement at his expense. “Sure. A sign that maybe I was supposed to meet up with her after all these years. Is she seeing anyone seriously?”

  “I’m surprised you don’t know,” Frank said. “She and Albert have been a couple for some time.” His brow scrunched thoughtfully. “Well, not officially a couple, I guess. But it’s a known fact around town that they’re sweet on each other.”

  Albert? Susanna and Albert?

  Strange he’d not picked up on that at all. Since he’d arrived, he hadn’t seen the two together until today, and her name had never passed Albert’s lips. Or vice versa.

  “A word of caution—Susanna isn’t up for grabs. If I were you and looking to settle, I’d set my sights on someone else, someone attainable.” Frank glanced down at Beth who’d just reappeared. “Albert and Susanna are as solid as they come.”

  That almost sounded like a challenge. Dalton was surprised the news didn’t bother him more. Maybe because he couldn’t picture the two together.

  When Frank turned to leave, Dalton stopped him. “Something else. Around noon, the strangest thing happened. I turned around and found a little cloth bag tied off with a ribbon sitting on my chair. It was like it appeared out of nowhere.”

  “Let me guess . . . cookies?”

  Dalton laughed. “How’d you know?”

  “Logan Meadows has a secret do-gooder. Consider yourself christened.”

  “It’s not . . .” He let his gaze move left to Beth strolling up and down on the mercantile porch, fingers threaded together behind her back, as if she didn’t have a care, or chore to do, in the world.

  “No,” Frank said emphatically. “The incidents began before Miss Fairington came to town. That one wouldn’t know how to do a kind deed if she tried.”

  A rush of relief flashed through Dalton. Perhaps the do-gooder was Susanna. He could easily see that of her. Maybe, just maybe, she was trying to get his attention, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Astounded over the events of the last hour, Albert walked down the boardwalk with Nate by his side. The fact that he was no longer married kept beating the drum of his heart. Still, poor Floria. He allowed himself to think kindly of her since she was dead. For Nate’s sake, he’d do his best to forget all she’d put him through, how she purposely set out to wreck his life with no thought to his feelings. But now, there were more pressing matters. Somehow, he had to convince Susanna he had never purposely lied to her, and that they should marry right away. That would be tough. He’d seen her expression. Her hurt. She didn’t understand at all.

  He smiled when he felt Nate’s wary gaze on him. Most of all, he needed time to become better acquainted with his son—that word still brought a flutter of wonder whenever he said it, even to himself—and make sure the boy didn’t feel frightened, as Albert was sure he must.

  Albert opened the door to the sheriff’s office and held it wide. “There’s someone in here I want you to meet,” Albert said, gesturing for his boy to enter.

  Nate didn’t see the dog lying by the stove because his gaze went straight to the two jail cells. He shuffled inside and stopped by Albert’s desk. “Who?”

  “You missed him. He’s over there.”

  With a brow scrunched up in bewilderment, Nate looked around. He spotted the dog watching him through interested eyes, his chin resting on his outstretched legs.

  “A dog!” He hurried forward and went down on his knees in front of Ivan, but kept his hands to himself.

  “That’s Ivan. He’s nice. Go ahead and pet him.”

  Nate regarded Albert over his shoulder for more than a few seconds, as if he didn’t believe him. “I’ll get in trouble when my mama comes back. He might bite me.”

  Shocked, Albert wondered if he should correct Nate’s thinking, or let it go for now since he’d been through so much today. The funeral and then meeting a father he didn’t know he had. He decided on the latter. “That’s good advice about strange dogs, but I know Ivan. He loves children.”

  Albert came over and sat down on the floor next to the two. He scratched Ivan behind his ears, making the dog’s tongue flop out the side of his mouth in pleasure.

  Nate watched him stoically.

  “He’s just being polite and waiting for you to make the first move,” Albert said. “If you do, from now on he’ll be the first to greet you when you come in.”

  Still Nate held back.

  Maybe it was best to show by example. Albert leaned over and put his cheek to the dog’s back, his fur tickling his nose. “Come on, I wouldn’t lead you wrong. His coat is soft. I’ll bet you’ll like it.”

  Nate placed his palm on Ivan’s head and gave a little scratch. Albert sat up, pleased Nate was beginning to trust him. Ivan crawled forward, and lowered his head into Nate’s lap.

  Thank you, Ivan. You’re just what he needs right now in a strange town, with strange people.

  Thom came through the door, stopping when he caught sight of the three of them sitting on the floor. Albert climbed to his feet.

  “I see ya met my dog,” Thom said jovially, a wide smile stretching across his face.

  Nate whipped around and snatched back his hand as if he’d been caught doing something naughty.

  “No, go on,” Thom encouraged. “Ivan loves attention. He never thinks he gets enough.”

  When the boy turned back to Ivan, Thom sent a censorious look Albert’s way.

  Well, now it had started. His friends felt duped. He’d have a lot of explaining to do, but not before he spoke with Susanna. She deserved to get the facts first.

  “I’m Thom, by the way. Thom Donovan, your pa’s deputy.” He strode over and hunkered down, putting out a hand to Nate, who understood and shook his hand like a man. His boy had nice manners.

  “I’m Nate Brooks. My ma is trapped in the train wreck and we need to get her out. She’s scared. Will you go with me?”

  How did one make a grieving five-year-old face the reality that his ma was dead and buried, and she wasn’t coming back? Albert’s chest squeezed painfully. He’d take his boy’s hurt on himself if he could.

  Thom cut his gaze away, surprised. “I, ah . . .”

  Albert ran his hand down Nate’s hair, Ivan still resting his heavy head in the boy’s lap. “He knows about your ma, Nate. Things are going to be fine.”

  Nate kept his
gaze on the dog.

  Albert stepped away, challenging Thom with a direct gaze, who tipped up his chin. “Nate and I were just on our way upstairs. He’s tired. I think he’d like to settle in and maybe take a nap.”

  The child quickly looked up, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t take naps.”

  Albert glanced at the clock, then back to the pair on the floor. “Or not. Let’s go upstairs anyway. I’d like to show you around and get better acquainted. I have a guest staying for a couple of days, so it’s going to be a bit tight, but we’ll manage.”

  Reluctantly, Nate climbed to his feet. When he did, Ivan followed suit.

  “Mr. Springer came and collected his things about fifteen minutes ago,” Thom said. “He was lucky enough to get a room that had opened up at the hotel. He told me to thank you for your hospitality.”

  Albert nodded. “Well, that’s one problem taken care of. I was wondering how we’d all fit.” He went to the door. “The stairs are outside around back. Follow me.”

  “It’s my shift to stand guard in a half hour, so I’ll be heading out soon,” Thom said stiffly.

  Albert felt a bit awkward under Thom’s unwavering gaze. He hadn’t been around children much, being neither of his brothers had taken a wife. His experience lay with the children of the townsfolk here in Logan Meadows. He held the door for Nate, then took his hand, which the boy allowed. The child’s palm in his own conjured up a nice, homey feeling, reminding him of his own pa on the farm. He and Nate went around the building to the staircase leading to the apartment. Ivan’s nails clicked on the wooden steps as he followed behind.

  Inside, Albert moved a handful of papers off the chair by the front window where Nate would have a view of the comings and goings on Main Street. “Have a seat here while I pick this place up.”

  In ten minutes, most of the clutter was stuffed away, and he had a nice glass of cool water to offer his son. He took the seat opposite, feeling uneasy, and studied the child’s profile as Nate kept his attention trained outside. Ivan lay beside the boy’s boots, which hung halfway to the floor.

  Where to begin. “So, Nate, I’m happy to meet you. I’m your pa.”

  Nate glanced over, blinked, looked back out the window.

  “How old are you? I’d guess around five.”

  Nate nodded. “Yes, Pa,” he replied dutifully, never taking his gaze from outside where he seemed to feel most comfortable looking.

  Was it too soon to ask if he knew why they were coming to Wyoming? Or, maybe, they weren’t coming to Logan Meadows at all, and this was just a peculiar coincidence that the train had crashed here and they’d met. He wondered if his brother Corey had any information that could help him sort this out. He’d send a telegram just as soon as he was able.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t gotten the chance to meet you before now,” Albert went on, the strain of the silence hanging over their heads. “What do you like to do for fun?”

  Nate fussed in his chair, getting comfortable, then turned to Albert. “I like to make puzzles, shoot my slingshot, or draw my letters.” Releasing a deep breath, his shoulders slumped and his eyelids shuttered to half-mast. Albert wished he would lie down. “But mostly I like to hunt for frogs in the creek.” He made a face. “Nana doesn’t like it if I get my pants wet.”

  Nana? Albert wondered if Nate was referring to Floria’s mother, a true force to be reckoned with. To the best of his recollection, Floria’s father had died long before they’d ever met. But, he couldn’t trust anything he thought he knew. “Women usually don’t like boys to get wet or muddy,” he agreed. “I used to like to go frogging myself when I was a boy. I’d dip the frog legs in egg and then roll ’em in corn batter. They fried up mighty tasty. You ever have them that way?”

  Nate shook his head.

  “Your uncle Win enjoys ’em, too. Did you like seeing the livery after eating your donut?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you know if you have some trunks on the train? Can you remember?”

  He nodded again, and opened his mouth in a wide yawn. His lids dipped, and momentarily stayed closed. He rallied. “We had three.”

  Three trunks? That was a lot. Was Floria coming to stay? He had so many questions he’d like to ask Nate, but not if it brought up bad memories, or got him thinking about his ma and that she was dead. He’d have to watch what he said. “Men are retrieving the trunks off the train today. We should have some of your things here by tonight, and if not then, tomorrow.”

  Ivan let out a loud whine and stood up, again laying his head in Nate’s lap. That brought a small smile to the boy’s face, a smile that resembled Floria’s.

  Albert’s heart lurched. So much had gone wrong, more than he even knew. Shame for abandoning the son he didn’t know existed warred with his fury at Floria for keeping him in the dark. But even that emotion was placated by the astonishment and love he felt when he looked into Nate’s eyes. And what about Susanna? His heart skipped a beat when he thought of their upcoming talk. Would she, could she understand his silence on the whole matter? Would he forgive her if the tables were turned? He didn’t like to think it, but bad news might be on the horizon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Hannah Donovan hurried through the doors of the Silky Hen, her thoughts crashing around like a handful of marbles in a tin can. She passed several occupied tables, and several that needed cleaning. So much for sneaking out for the funeral; her absence had put them all behind. Besides serving the multitude of hungry customers, she and Daisy were responsible for preparing food to deliver to some of the homes housing other folks. It was no easy task feeding so many people for such an extended period of time.

  How could Albert have kept such information from Susanna? From all of them? She felt hurt, and even angry. She had advised Susanna to wait until she’d heard the whole story, but that didn’t do anything to stop her own wayward thoughts from conjuring up all sorts of reasons for Albert’s wife, ex-wife, whoever she was, coming to town with a son in tow. At the thought of the child, Hannah softened. He looked around Markus’s age. He was a cute little dickens, with serious, dark eyes that reminded her all too much of Albert’s.

  She pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen to find her mother huddled close in conversation with her best friend, Mrs. Brinkley. Every time Hannah saw the woman she was reminded of the time her mother had planned to buy an expensive bolt of fabric out from under Mrs. Brinkley’s nose. Thankfully her mother had changed a lot since then. Roberta’s apron was spotted with gravy, and it seemed she hadn’t looked in the mirror for some time, since she had a streak of flour across her forehead.

  The two women snapped up straight when Hannah entered the room. Daisy glanced over from whatever she was mixing, a relieved smile playing at her lips, and Markus, seated at the round break table in the corner, was too engrossed in what he was doing to even look up.

  “Hannah, you’re back.” Her mother’s guilty expression stirred her anger. Thinking about Albert was one thing, gossiping quite another.

  Hannah crossed the room and kissed Markus on the top of his head. “Yes, I am. Looks like you’ve been busy out there.”

  Mrs. Brinkley patted Roberta’s hand and hurried toward the door.

  “Don’t leave on my account,” Hannah called.

  “I just stopped in for a second,” she said. “I have supper to see to myself.” The matronly woman waved and was out the door, but popped her head back in a moment later. “You have a new table out here.”

  “Thank you,” Roberta said. She turned to Hannah. “I just heard the news!” The excitement that tinged her mother’s voice set Hannah’s teeth on edge. “I can’t believe my ears. Albert has a son! And what about the boy’s mother? Why was she on the train coming to Logan Meadows? It’s such a mystery.”

  “And none of our business, Mother. Out of respect for Susanna and Albert, I hope you won’t speak of this to anyone. It’s going to be difficult enough for Susanna without wondering what everyone is think
ing—and saying.”

  Roberta cocked her brow and darted a look at Daisy’s back, as if embarrassed to be scolded in front of her. Lifting her chin, she started for the door.

  “I’ll see to the new table,” Hannah said, feeling a bit contrite for her actions. “You’ve worn yourself out again today. Sit with Markus and have a cup of tea.”

  Her mother reached out and ran a hand down Hannah’s arm. “I commend you for your loyalty to your friends. I promise I’ll be more careful with my words.” She winked. “All that said, I do think I’ll have that cup of tea now that you’re here. I haven’t had a break since early morning.”

  “Good, you do that.” Hannah plucked her apron from the wall pegs and tied it around her waist as she proceeded into the dining room. She took a moment to scan the room, spotting a lone man at the table by the window who hadn’t been there a minute ago. Albert’s table, she thought with a wry smile. The one he took every day to eat his lunch and talk with Susanna.

  As she approached, she recognized Mr. Babcock as the man she’d met when she brought biscuits and coffee to the train. “Welcome to the Silky Hen,” she said, trying not to notice his broad shoulders and rugged good looks. “I’m glad you decided to stop in.”

  “Good day, Mrs. Donovan. I just got off my shift at the bank—as a matter of fact, your husband took over for me.”

  At his engaging smile, she felt her face heat up.

  “Gabe Garrison spoke so highly of your fried chicken with all the fixin’s, I just had to come give it a try. I hope you haven’t run out.”

  “Of fried chicken? Never. Would you like a cup of coffee with that?”

  “Please.”

  Hannah practically twirled in her shoes and hurried off. Strange he’d come in today and sit at that particular table. She’d heard the talk around town, how Mr. Babcock came from Susanna’s hometown and how he’d helped Dr. Thorn set that poor girl’s arm. Seemed he and Susanna got along very well indeed. Ashamed for the direction her thoughts had strayed, Hannah went straight to the china cabinet without looking at her mother. She was doing the same thing her mother had been doing when she arrived. Speculating on things that weren’t her business.