Blessing

by Deborah Bedford

  “Hello,” the woman said, in a light, melodic voice, tilting her head like a little bird at the group of men standing mesmerized in the mud. She was so pretty she even took Uley’s breath away. “My name is Elizabeth Calderwood. Could one of you gentlemen direct me to a lawyer’s office? I’ve come to hire someone to defend Mr. Aaron Brown.”

  Chapter Four

  So this was Elizabeth Calderwood—in the flesh! So this was the gal who’d gotten the blue, perfectly penned goodbye letter Mr. Aaron Brown had been so desperate to get out of Tin Cup!

  Uley stood right smack in the middle of the road, one hand clenched around her horses’ reins, watching the men of Tin Cup compete over the new arrival the way a hungry dog would over a bone. Charlie Hastings took it upon himself to step forward and direct Miss Calderwood up Washington Avenue toward the Pacific Hotel. There she went, her skirts dipping back and forth like a chiming school bell, her head held high, with all those yellow curls hanging down her back like bedsprings.

  If Elizabeth Calderwood knew she was leading a parade up the street, she took no notice of it. Every man there, every single one of them, followed her.

  Elizabeth Calderwood stepped into the Pacific Hotel and, as the little front room filled with awestruck men, made her way to the desk. Pacific Hotel, the handcarved sign read. Frank Emerson, Proprietor. First-Class in Every Respect.

  “I’d like to pay for a room for two weeks, Mr. Emerson,” she said, in a voice so light and high she might have been singing.

  She could have paid for a room for two years, so many men pulled gold pouches out of their pockets to help.

  “No, but thank you, gentlemen.” She waved them away, holding aloft one tiny gloved hand and acting as if she attracted this much attention each day of her life. “I’m perfectly able to pay my own expenses.”

  Five men volunteered to carry her one trunk up the stairs to the room Emerson assigned her. The remainder of the throng milled about in the tiny lobby, waiting for her to descend the stairs.

  When she did, she flounced out into the street again. Everyone else clomped right along behind her. She marched past the sign reading J. C. Theobald, The Cobbler, and into the building marked Otto Violet, Attorney-at-Law and Notary Public, Tin Cup, Colorado. Twenty minutes later, she emerged. She opened the lace parasol she carried and twirled it high over her head, striding purposefully toward the Grand Central Hotel. Mawherter’s eyes about popped out of his head when he saw what came prancing in through his front door. “Good day, sir,” she said. “I’m here to pay off Mr. Brown’s bill.”

  “The name’s Mawherter. D. J. Mawherter. At—at your service, ma’am.”

  “I’d like to have Mr. Brown’s belongings. May I send someone up to get them?”

  “Yes, certainly.” The way Mawherter leapt to assist her, you would have thought the Queen of England had entered his front lobby.

  She deposited a fair amount of money on his ink blotter, and he swept it away. This time, seven men accompanied her to bring down Aaron Brown’s one trunk and one satchel.

  Elizabeth Calderwood certainly had no qualms about going through his personal things, Uley thought, remembering with renewed consternation the bay rum…the Bible…the unmentionables that she should never have caught a glimpse of.

  Elizabeth directed the men toward the Pacific Hotel. “Place them in my room, please. I’m certain Mr. Brown will have need of these items later.”

  “You’re staying at the Pacific?” Mawherter asked her, goggle-eyed. He sucked in his breath and raised himself to his full height. Uley couldn’t help thinking he looked like a rooster about to flap his wings. “We cannot have a fine lady such as yourself staying anywhere else except right here. I’ll gladly give you a discount….”

  Elizabeth smiled graciously. “I’m already quite comfortable at the Pacific, Mr. Mawherter.”

  Her business clearly settled, Elizabeth Calderwood turned and asked directions to the jailhouse.

  Everybody answered at once.

  “It’s right over there….”

  “Go to the corner to the west….”

  “You’ll find it where Water Avenue comes into Grand….”

  “Take your second left….”

  “I’d be glad to show you the way….”

  Surprisingly enough, Elizabeth Calderwood seemed to have a fine head atop her shoulders. She sorted through all their mumbling and ended up going exactly the right way.

  “That gal’s about the prettiest gal I’ve ever seen,” Charlie Hastings whispered.

  “Seeing a woman like that is enough to make you clean up every once in a while, isn’t it?” Dave McNalley joined in.

  Uley had never dreamed grown men could act this way. As Elizabeth Calderwood proceeded toward the jailhouse, she hung back, wondering what it would feel like to get so much attention. The attention she’d gotten after she’d jumped on Aaron Brown and sent him flying was one thing. This was more than mere respect. This was awe. She figured it would be nice to have men—a man—look at her that way. She figured it would be nice to walk with petticoats swishing against her ankles like stream water. She figured it would be nice to have her hair bounce free at the nape of her neck and have curls encircled with ribbons.

  She wondered what it would feel like to peer into a store window at all the fineries that a genuine lady expected, and to admit to yourself and to everybody around you that you would enjoy having such things.

  It had been bad enough thinking of Aaron Brown inside that jail, knowing he was fully aware of her secret. Now, here came Elizabeth Calderwood prancing into town, making her think of any number of feminine practices! As Uley left behind the gaggle of men proceeding along the streets, she wondered what it might feel like to love a man who was going to die by hanging. Uley didn’t figure that was anything she’d ever have to know.

  “Just look at you, Aaron Brown,” Elizabeth said, her nose stuck between two iron bars, her hands reaching to a place on either side of his face. “I’ve never seen anybody who needed to see a bucket of bathwater so badly.”

  He grimaced. “It’s true. If I’d known you were coming out here, I’d have put on my best Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Best not touch me with your gloves, Beth. I’ll get them dirty.”

  “Who cares.” She laughed and encased his grimy cheeks with all her fingers. “I’ve come two hundred and fifty miles in a supply wagon and you’re worried about me getting my gloves dirty? I thought I might never see you alive again. Just let me keep looking at your face.”

  He sighed, a long, forlorn chuff of air. “Here I am, still waiting to hang. You’ve got at least one more day to look at my face all you want to.”

  “I might even have longer than that, Aaron. I’ve hired a lawyer for your defense.” She saw his horrified expression and went right on talking. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to holler at her for spending all that money. “I’ve also taken care of your charges down at the Grand Central Hotel.”

  “Please, Beth, I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

  “Of course you are,” she said emphatically, at last drawing her hands away from him. “That’s why you wrote me a letter to explain why you were already dead.”

  He opened his mouth here, then clamped it shut again. She did offer a good argument.

  “No,” she said, seeing his response. “We aren’t going to do it your way. You’re worth so much more to me than that.”

  “I didn’t want you coming here. That isn’t the reason I wrote.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. It was the first time in two weeks she’d let herself cry about this. She’d been afraid after she got his letter that she’d start bawling like a mama cow and she’d never be able to stop. “I never would have made it in time if not for that spring snowstorm.”

  “I figure,” he said quietly, “that storm was the answer to a prayer for some folks.”

  “An answer to a great many of them. How on earth did you get a letter posted so quickly?”


  Aaron smiled at her through the bars, once more thinking of Uley. “I found someone who would help me.”

  “So you said.”

  “A youngster. Uley.” It was all he was going to say to her. He’d promised Uley never to reveal her secret. With all she’d done, she’d earned his vow. And by the solid ground under his feet, he would keep it with Beth, too. He heard someone coming toward them. “That’ll be Olney,” he told Beth.

  He didn’t have time to say anything else. The marshal himself came in and gripped Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Harris,” she said.

  Eyes on eyes. Cold on cold. Like steel locked up against steel.

  “Beth,” Olney said. “I tried to keep you from getting involved in this.”

  “Aren’t you going to welcome me to Tin Cup, Harris?”

  “Don’t reckon I will. I’m not real glad to see you.”

  “Didn’t figure you would be.”

  “Why did you let him follow me all the way out here? You’re the one with the cool head on your shoulders.”

  “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do, Harris. It isn’t a woman’s place to stand in the way.” Remembering the matter at hand, Beth untied the strings of her reticule. “Now tell me the amount of his bail so we can get paid up.”

  Aaron stood behind her, looking at Olney over one of her delicate chintz-clad shoulders. Harris looked back and forth between the matching sets of eyes, both stubborn, both just as blue and clear as the water running down Willow Creek.

  “You’re a stubborn woman, Elizabeth.”

  “You did set bail, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did,” he said. “I just didn’t figure on anybody being around to meet it.”

  “You’d best give me the figure, Harris.”

  He stuck out his palm. “I just raised it to five hundred dollars.”

  “All right, then,” she said boldly, handing him the bills. “Here it is.”

  Aaron raked his fingers through his hair. “You shouldn’t be walking around with that much money. Anyone might have robbed you.” Fully half the people around here were no-good or bandits, come here to Tin Cup to chase the elusive promise of gold. They’d just as soon get money jumping someone in the streets as digging holes in the mountains.

  Elizabeth laughed at him. “There are thirty men out in front of the jailhouse waiting to escort me to my next destination. I don’t suppose it would be safe for any one of them to ‘jump on me,’ Aaron. There would be twenty-nine others waiting to bring the one to justice. Now, Harris, I suggest you bring the key and unlock Aaron so that we may be on our way.”

  Olney grudgingly obliged. “If it was up to me,” he grumbled, “I wouldn’t be letting you out, Brown.”

  Elizabeth held out one gloved palm. “I’d like a receipt for my bail money, Harris.”

  “We don’t have anything as fancy as receipts.”

  “I would like a guarantee on my money. When Aaron shows up for his trial, I want every cent of it back.”

  “Women! We don’t have any paper.” Elizabeth pulled two sheets of onionskin paper from her purse and handed them to Olney. The marshal hung the keys back on the peg, dipped his pen in the inkwell and began to scribble.

  I, Aaron—a blotch—Brown, do solemnly swear to be at the Tin Cup Town Hall for the trial—another blotch—murdering Marshal Harris Olney by shooting him in the back.

  “How can you write something about me murdering you? You’re standing right in front of me wording the thing.”

  “Well, I’ve got to make you sign something now that I’ve turned you loose. Got to make sure you’ll come back for the trial.”

  “Here.” Aaron reached for a second sheet of paper. “I’ll write it.”

  “You go right ahead.” Harris dipped the pen and handed it to him.

  I, Aaron Brown, do solemnly swear to appear at the Tin Cup Town Hall on the scheduled date at the scheduled hour to attend a trial in the court of law…

  “Confound it.” Harris spat a wad of tobacco into the brass spittoon in the corner. “That’s enough already. Sign your name to it and be done.”

  “Very well.” Aaron brandished the pen.

  “Don’t forget about my receipt,” Elizabeth reminded the marshal, handing him another sheet of paper.

  “I do hereby—blotch—acknowledge receipt of $500 for the bail of Aaron Brown. The money—blotch—be returned to Elizabeth Calderwood when Aaron Brown arrives to attend his trial. Signed on this day, April 25th, in the—blotch—year of 1882. Marshal Harris Olney.”

  “Thank you, Marshal,” Elizabeth said, retrieving it victoriously and waving it so that the ink would dry. “We’ll see you on the day of the trial.”

  “The trial is two days from now, Beth. We’ll expect Aaron there at nine on Thursday morning. I figure the hanging will be Friday.”

  “We’ll see, Harris. We’ll see.”

  “Beth.” Aaron touched her delicate, straight back with one of his grimy hands. “We’d best be leaving.”

  Together, they marched out into the street where Elizabeth’s thirty-some-odd admirers were still waiting with profound patience.

  “Show’s over, gentlemen.” Aaron kept his hand on the buttons at her waist. “The lady’s with me.”

  “She won’t be with you very long, Brown,” Lesser Levy shouted. “Better enjoy the lady’s company until Friday. After that, it’ll be somebody else’s turn.”

  “Ignore them,” Aaron whispered to her, pulling her closer.

  “I have been.”

  “Wish Olney had given me my gun back.”

  “I can certainly see why he didn’t.”

  “Where do you have us?”

  “I’ve moved you to the Pacific Hotel. Thought it might be quieter over there.”

  “I’m surprised Frank Emerson would let me stay there, being suspected of murder and all.”

  “He doesn’t know you’ll be there, Aaron. I booked my room first. The way everyone acted when I came into town, I figured it would be a fair trade for Mr. Emerson. Figured they’d do anything to house a lady. If he gives me a fight when you book your room, I’ll just tell him I’d just as soon stay down at the Grand Central.”

  Aaron had to smile at her. So Elizabeth wasn’t above concocting a bit of blackmail on her own.

  They walked up the street toward Otto Violet’s law office, their heads together as they whispered, the hem of Beth’s sky-blue skirt flipping in the breeze, Aaron’s hand planted firmly against the small of her back, his fingers splayed against the fabric.

  Uley rode behind them, astraddle one of the Gold Cup’s mules. She stopped Old Croppy dead in the middle of Washington Avenue. She felt something horrible down deep in her stomach, a grinding…like she hadn’t had enough to eat…like her belly wanted to consume itself. It wasn’t bad enough watching everyone following Elizabeth Calderwood all over Tin Cup. Now that Aaron Brown was out of jail, she’d have to watch the two of them sashaying along the streets, so happy to be together they might as well be at a barn dance instead of planning a defense at a trial.

  Well, she’d just pretend she didn’t care. She didn’t care that Elizabeth Calderwood was the prettiest thing on two legs. She didn’t care that Aaron Brown walked along with his hand on Elizabeth Calderwood’s back as if he owned the whole town.

  The problem was, she’d enjoyed having Aaron Brown all to herself, locked up behind bars, where she could talk to him.

  Uley figured she was jealous. Only problem was, she couldn’t figure out exactly what she was jealous about.

  She’d come to town to buy supplies for Carl Hord and Captain Hall up at the Gold Cup. They wouldn’t take kindly to her being gone this long. She knew she had to start up Old Croppy and ride him right by those two lovebirds on the street.

  She kicked the mule once, and he bolted forward. She sat as straight as a new nail on his back, her knees locked around his bloated stomach, her hat pulled low over eyes that didn’t look anywhere except strai
ght down her nose.

  The old mule walked right past Elizabeth and Aaron, his hooves sinking into the mud from the melted snow. Uley adjusted the seat of her britches in the saddle, knowing full well that she was covered with mud and mine dust. Would Aaron Brown stop her? Would he offer a kind word? Assuredly not. But still, for some absurd reason, her heart pounded as hard as a miner’s hammer.

  Old Croppy threw his head back, exposed most of his green teeth and brayed.

  She’d give anything if Hall and Hord hadn’t asked her to come back into town just now.

  Just as she expected, Aaron Brown gave her no sign of recognition. She stopped the mule in front of Campbell, Stahl & Company and climbed off. She didn’t have to worry about looping the reins over the hitching rail. There wasn’t much of anything that would make Old Croppy move. She knew he’d be standing in exactly the same position, right where she left him, when she came out of the supply store.

  Out of the corner of one eye, she saw Elizabeth Calderwood and Aaron Brown strolling toward her. She didn’t dare glance that way. She kept her eyes straight ahead, shooting in exactly the same direction as her hat brim.

  Men!

  She decided right then it was easier to just be one than it was to try to figure one out.

  The first thing Aaron wanted to do when he saw Uley riding by on that mule was holler at her and run to her out in the street. But he couldn’t very well say the things he wanted to say with Beth standing at his side. He’d made Uley Kirkland a promise, after all.

  He didn’t like keeping secrets.

  He made a vow, right then and there, that he’d go after Uley just as soon as he got time to himself. He needed to offer his thanks when they were alone and bars didn’t separate them. She’d posted the letter that had brought Elizabeth to his aid. He wanted her to know he didn’t take lightly the things she’d been willing to do. Doesn’t matter whether I blackmailed her or not, he thought.

  All the while Beth chattered to him, outlining the plans for his defense, Aaron kept his eyes on Uley, watching as she swung one leg over that dilapidated excuse for a mule and tramped into Campbell, Stahl & Company. Now that he knew that a young woman was hidden beneath those nubby breeches and that shapeless sweater and all that mud, he could easily see her womanly features. Uley wasn’t all blustery and big around the middle like the fellows in this camp. When he watched her walk away, she looked all small and round and full of punch—like a fawn that leapt out of nowhere, turned its tail and bounded off into the forest. A gal, no doubt about it.