Dark Journey Home

by Cherie Shaw

  Thankfully there was a hanging roof over the board walk in front of the mercantile, and Olivia was able to close the umbrella she had shared with Maria, then after shaking the water off of it, she followed Maria into the store, as Ricardo who was now soaked to the skin, held open the door.

  Several men lounging in front of the store on the boardwalk, but under the overhang, watching the rain come down, also watched Olivia and Maria as they entered the store, even after a scowl from Ricardo. They still looked. It wasn’t often they saw ladies so attractive as these. Even though Maria was in her forties, she still held her youthful beauty well, keeping Ricardo ever alert to other men’s glances in his wife’s direction.

  Logan was back in his hotel room, when there was a light tap on his door, and when he opened it he was handed a wire by the desk clerk, who told him that he had received the reply to a wire Logan had sent, and he figured he’d want to see it right away.

  Logan thanked the clerk, handed him a two-bit piece, and after closing the door, sat down to read the message:

  SON,

  GLAD TO HEAR FROM YOU. WE WORRY BUT TRY NOT TO. MA SAYS SHE’LL EXPECT YOU WHEN YOU GET HERE, NOT UNTIL. SURE IS TAKING YOU A LONG TIME TO COME HOME. YOUR THREE FRIENDS ARE HERE WORKING FOR ME. GOOD MEN. THEY NEEDED A BIT OF FATTENING UP THOUGH. WE’RE WORKING ON THAT.

  LOVE,

  PA

  Logan held onto the wire and re-read it several times before putting it in his shirt pocket, suddenly missing his parents and home, more than he had allowed himself to in several years. Somehow his thoughts again turned to Olivia, and he wondered how she would like the vast broken hills of Wyoming, the sunsets, the windswept prairie, and the glistening wet coats of wild mustangs after a sudden rain. He then shook his head to rid himself of mindless dreams. She was not for him, and once again he tried to make himself believe that fact, and wondered what he had done, leaving a rose on her door.

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  Clara Wilkens, owner of the Coyote Springs mercantile, and Lulu’s sister, having sufficiently recovered from her recent illness, now stood behind the counter, though Lulu was nowhere in sight, as Maria made her way to the cluttered counter, which was laden with varieties of merchandise: jars of peppermint sticks, small bags of tobacco, corncob pipes on a display rack, several baskets of fresh fruit, and other last minute needs, along with medicinal remedies for stomach ailments.

  “Señora,” Maria began, in her well-practiced accent, of which she could assume at will, “Could I believe you to be Señora Lulu Haskell’s sister, and owner of this wonderful establishment?”

  The petite Mrs. Wilkins, with the streaks of gray enhancing her drab hair color, and the large flashing brown eyes, answered, “Why of course, and you would be the Señora Maria Cortez. My sister has spoken often of you, and of your lovely friend, Olivia Worthington.

  “Lulu tells me you have shared many colorful stories of your cooking experiences from around the continents, especially prize recipes from south of the border.”

  “Si, Señora,” Maria answered, “but please do not tell me that Lulu is ill now also, although I am so pleased to meet you, her sister.”

  “Thank you, pleased to meet you also, but no, my sister is not ill, quite the opposite,” she answered, “she is visiting with a guest, a gentleman caller, in the small parlor in the back of the store. Someone she has recently met and I felt that since she has been such a help to me that she deserves some time off now that I am back on my feet.” She continued, “By the way, my name is Clara Wilkins and I would be honored if you would just call me Clara.”

  “Si, Señora Clara. I will finish my shopping now, and you may tell your sister that I inquired about her. And when next I see her, I shall give her yet another favorite recipe of mine, of which there are endless supplies.” Maria stated.

  Clara answered, “Of course Maria, and I am sure Lulu will be most pleased to hear that. I only hope that Lulu’s guest will take the time to better acquaint himself with my sister though. I wouldn’t want her to make another mistake in a hasty marriage. She always weds in haste, and repents in leisure, as the old saying goes. But then I shouldn’t be quick to judge, her happiness is always the most important thing to me.”

  She thought a moment, and then continued, “Not a day goes by that I don’t miss my late husband, but then we had a wonderful marriage. My sister, on the other hand, has had such bad luck with husbands, and I constantly advise her not to be so impulsive…….but then I am keeping you from your shopping.”

  Maria walked over to where Olivia was examining a pair of woolen gloves on display with a matching scarf. Olivia spoke quietly to Maria, “I’m not sure, but I think I caught a glimpse of Henry Adams visiting with Lulu in a room in back of the store, then Lulu walked over and closed the door quickly. I may have been mistaken, but it looked like his profile.”

  Maria whispered, “It would be like her to strike up a friendship with such a person. Let us believe you were mistaken though, Señorita Olivia. However, we will keep the fact in mind.” Olivia nodded, then continued with her perusal of the merchandise.

  Ricardo loitered near the doorway, watching the rain outside, which was creating puddles in the muddy road, also giving the lawns and flowers, along with the spreading shade trees a good soaking.

  Maria purchased a colorful lacy shawl for her trip to Mexico, and Olivia settled for the heavy gloves and scarf, telling Maria that her uncle had advised her to dress warmly for the trip to Wyoming, which he had decided they would surely take soon, and that the climate there was considerably cooler, as the fall season was near.

  As Ricardo approached the counter to pay for Maria’s purchases, Clara whispered to Maria, “My, that must be your husband. I have heard of him, quite a handsome caballero, that one.”

  Maria snickered, and whispered back, “Do not let him hear you, Señora, his head, it is too big for his fat sombrero as it is.”

  Both women were laughing as Ricardo paid for Maria’s purchases. He dared not ask why. He knew that she would never divulge the secret of their whispering and laughter.

  Olivia graciously met Clara, then paid for her own purchases, “Thank you so much, Clara.” She said, then she followed Maria and Ricardo to the door and after exiting the establishment, her umbrella went hurriedly up, causing several loiterers to politely step out of the way for the two ladies.

  Ricardo escorted them through the steady drizzle, across the muddy road, back to the hotel, water dripping from his hat onto his wide muscular shoulders. He was already soaked to the skin anyway, so what was a bit more moisture on his clothing. He had wrapped up all of the purchases in his new slicker to at least keep those items dry, and was sure Maria and Olivia would appreciate that fact at least, no matter of his own discomfort.

  Olivia’s uncle, Claude Beckford, was standing on the porch of the hotel, under the overhang, watching down the road, when they approached, and Olivia asked, “Uncle, are you still watching for the stage? I don’t know what it is that you are waiting for, as you have asked everyone in sight when the stage is due, and always they say that the weather has probably held it up. Just what is it that you are expecting, or is it that the arrival of the stage is now an exciting event to you?”

  “You’ll see, my dear.” He answered. “I’ve told you that I have ordered something to be delivered here on the stage, and it is overdue. That’s all.”

  “Well, it won’t be here any sooner just because you insist on watching for it, why don’t you come in and rest for a while? I’m sure you will be notified of its arrival.” Olivia smiled, and took her uncle’s arm, attempting to lead him back inside where it was dry.

  He patted Olivia’s arm, and said, “My dear niece, I’ll see you later for lunch. I shall just wait out here a bit longer.”

  Olivia dropped her hand from his arm, and looking puzzled followed Maria and Ricardo into the hotel lobby, and out of the blowing wet weather. She said to no one in particular, “When my uncle sets his mind to something, wild h
orses couldn’t drag him away. Let him catch a chill then, and it won’t be any of my doing.” And she marched into the hotel lobby, nodded farewell to Maria and Ricardo, then walking ahead of them, and lifting her heavy skirts, quickly ascended the stairway to the upper hallway of the hotel, then to her room. As she reached for the door handle, she paused, staring at the bright red rose, tied with a bit of rawhide to that object.

  Maria had caught up with her just then, and said, “Señorita Olivia, you have an admirer. How romantic. I wonder who it could be.” And she smiled to herself, just as Ricardo had reached the two women.

  “I……….I……..don’t know.” Olivia stuttered, “Maybe, someone has mistaken my room for someone else’s.” She slowly untied the strip of rawhide, and carefully took the flower in her hand, sniffing the delicate aroma, her face slightly flushed.

  “No mistake.” Ricardo acknowledged. “A lovely flower for a lovely señorita, and we can almost guess from whom the gesture was made.” He laughed, as he and Maria walked away, leaving Olivia to then quickly enter her room, as she puzzled over the fragrant ‘gift’. Once inside her room, she took a deep breath, and leaned back against the door, holding the flower petals in the palm of her hand, studying their softness.

  CHAPTER 14

  In spite of the heavy downpour which transformed the small picturesque town into a muddy haven, its inhabitants into a bedraggled lot, the parlor to the rear of the mercantile was a cozy nest, complete with blazing logs in the large stone fireplace.

  The parlor, though sparsely furnished, was tastefully decorated, and the picture of comfort. While Henry Adams, known as Henry Birch, sat fidgeting nervously on the lavender flowered wingback chair, Lulu Haskell sat comfortably upon a heavily upholstered, green velvet divan, her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, and she was using a white lace handkerchief to pat her tear-filled eyes.

  Lulu’s sister, Clara, was tending customers in her store, unaware of the emotional confrontation going on in her parlor, between Lulu and her visitor. Clara had thought the visitor could possibly be a potential suitor of Lulu’s, though she herself had not much use for the man, as he had been a customer of hers for several days now, and tended to be a rude, obnoxious sort. She did not trust him in the least, but then, she thought, ‘to each his own’. She couldn’t choose her sister’s friends for her.

  In the parlor, Lulu was near to shouting, as she tried to hold on to her rising temper towards her guest. “I can’t believe what you have just told me about Mr. Claude Beckford, Mr. Birch. It’s not as if I’ve known the gent awhile, having just met him, and all. He seemed to be a rancher, dresses like one, even rides a horse. He bein’ a titled gentleman, I feel like such a fool, then to make matters worse, you come here flatterin’ me, with all kinds of interest and compliments, and come to find out, all you’re after is that Englishmen’s young niece! Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Henry Birch,” she sniffed indignantly, daintily patting her tearful eyes again, then smoothing her red curls.

  Henry broke in, “My dear,” he reached over and caressed and patted her hand, his heavy jowls bouncing as he spoke, “I have told you the truth, and now that you and I understand each other,” his voice wavered here, and he lowered his tone, “perhaps if this ‘Lord’s’ niece, my dear betrothed Olivia, were not so protected by her uncle,” he hesitated there before continuing, then with a deep sigh, “such a lovely lady as yourself could assist me…..”

  Lulu broke in, “Cut the flattery, Mr. Birch, and just get to the point, what is it you’re getting at? What devious plan are you attempting to involve me in?” She sputtered, with tear-filled eyes, gazing thoughtfully at this new acquaintance of hers, beginning to view him in a new light. Her distrust of this man was building.

  Henry tried again, as if talking to a small child who didn’t understand a lesson, “Now that you and I understand each other, we can work together in our pursuits, yourself wreaking vengeance, and at the same time, I will be able to reclaim my Olivia.”

  “I’m not sure we do understand each other.” Lulu spoke slowly as her tears were fast drying up, though her anger was steadily rising. “Who said I wanted to wreak vengeance?”

  “Dear Lulu, of course you do, and I can well understand your feelings. This titled uncle of Olivia’s has broken us up for the last time. It’s time I did some form of retaliation myself. If you will be sensible and assist me in ridding the world of his bothersome presence, I’m sure even Olivia would thank you. Don’t you see she is under his protection at all times?” He smirked, satisfied that his scheme was finally working, surely Lulu understood the situation now, and would help him. He sat back resting comfortably in the soft chair now, sure of his success.

  His meaning finally hit Lulu Haskell like a ton of bricks. “Are you insane?” She jumped up off the divan, shouting loud enough to be heard in the next town. “Why I’ve never heard of such a devious scheme.”

  “But my dear…,” Henry began.

  “Don’t you ‘My dear’ me, you half-baked, saggy-faced old Casanova. I wouldn’t be a party to any scheme of yours for all the tea in China, now get outta’ here, before I call the town Marshal, and tell him what you’re up to.”

  Henry arose from the chair backing towards the doorway in disbelief. He had planned so carefully, once he’d met this woman, sure she would cooperate. Was he slipping in his judge of characters? Was his charm losing its appeal?

  Across the wet and muddy road, in front of the hotel, stood the object of their heated discussion. Lord Claude Beckford stood tall, his silver hair gleaming of the damp weather. He anxiously awaited the overdue stagecoach, standing under the low-hanging roof of the hotel, on the boardwalk, along with several other townsfolk, though he was deep in thought, wishing the stage would appear.

  The quiet of the afternoon was disrupted by the hasty, yet noisy departure of Henry Adams from the Mercantile. Lulu, his hostess of the last two hours, was in the process of shoving him bodily out the doorway, her lusty voice screeching loudly at him during the procedure. Lulu had had a chance meeting with Henry just that morning, at the local Doctor’s small clinic down the road, when she had stopped by to pick up a headache powder she had requested, and had met Mr. Birch there.

  They seemed to hit it off at first, and after a few soft spoken words from the middle-aged opportunist, Lulu had invited him for early afternoon tea in her sister’s parlor. They could discuss his injury, and compare their own problems. Lulu, always open for flattery, could see nothing wrong in having a gentleman caller, again sympathizing with Henry for his injury received from some ill-bred cowhand, who had shot at him while out target shooting.

  The visit had not gone at all smoothly, and now the pair were in the midst of a heated discussion on the walkway in front of the mercantile. While Henry was attempting to raise a borrowed umbrella, so he could head down to his room at the boarding house, Lulu screeched, “Mr. Birch, I can well understand why that young cowhand chose you for target shooting. Furthermore, if I had a gun right now, I’d shoot you myself.” Henry tried one more time, “My dear, it pains me greatly that you misunderstood my intentions, and what I told you was in strictest confidence, and here you are crudely airing my private affairs to this entire ill-bred community.

  “Maybe the whole town would like to know just what kind of a scoundrel you really are. Need I say more?” She shouted, as Henry then turned to go. A few snickers were heard from bystanders, as Lulu used both hands to raise her heavy skirts, then lifted one button-down shoe, planting it carefully onto Mr. Birch’s flabby backside, and giving a hearty shove, to almost send him sprawling, as he stepped quickly down into the muddy road. Not even bothering to raise the umbrella over his head, he took off running through the mud.

  Lulu screamed after his departing figure, “And as for your plans, Mr. Birch, I would never have a part in anything so devious, and you, sir,” with this she screeched all the louder for the whole town to hear, “you are aimin’ a bit high in your pursuit of that gent’s niece
. You need to look into a mirror. I ain’t much, but even I wouldn’t give you the time of day, and mister, I ain’t never, ever goin’ to be that desperate. Now you run, and you keep on arunnin’.”

  Lulu turned to look at a bewhiskered man who appeared to be a miner, standing under the roof, and shook her forefinger under his nose, saying, “I sure have a tendency to misjudge men’s characters.” Then she looked at some of the other men who were snickering, and said, “As for the rest of you idiots, mind your own damned business.” Then she stomped back into the store, not realizing that the town had not had this much entertainment since the last circus had come through two years before. Now she would be the topic of discussion for many years to come. Henry better leave town now, if he knew what was good for him, the town hadn’t had a good hanging in awhile either.

  Inside the store, Lulu approached the counter, where Clara was working. “”The nerve of that man.” She said to her sister. Clara looked at her questioningly, as Lulu continued, “I have just decided, sister dear, that working here with you in this store isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me after all. It’s a respectable position, and better than listening to some middle-aged, over-the-hill Casanova moaning over some young beauty who wouldn’t even wipe her dainty little feet on him.”