by Ginny Aiken
Would he still be in Bountiful when she arrived?
By the time the driver slowed his team and Emma noticed the outlying buildings from her window, she’d gnawed her fingernails down to the quick, not something she normally did. Then again, she’d never traveled to persuade a man to marry her after she’d first turned him down.
And she’d never had a friend behind bars.
The carriage drew to a stop. The door opened and the tall man in a worn leather vest and faded dungarees stuck his head inside. “Sure and you want me to leave ya here, miss?”
No! her innards cried. “Yes, sir. I know where I am, and I know where I’m going. Thank you very much for your safe driving and for your consideration.”
He shook his head, but then withdrew the wooden steps he kept under one of the two benches and set it up on the solid-packed dirt of Main Street. Emma’s stomach lurched with the anxiety, and she trembled. Hoping the driver didn’t notice the tremors in the hand he clasped to help her down, she placed one foot then the other on the steps, and found herself back where she belonged—well, almost there. She did have some matters to resolve before she could return to the camp.
With renewed resolve firmly in place, Pippa in her basket on her arm, and her steamer trunk precariously plunked on the rough boardwalk next to the jailhouse door, Emma strode in, her bravado leading the way. “Marshal Blair,” she said when she saw the lawman seated at his desk. “Are you still holding Colley behind bars?”
“Well, now,” the marshal said, looking up from his papers. “I reckoned we’d seen us the last of ya, Miss Crowell. Surprised to see ya, I must say.”
“How could you think I’d walk away from the woman who risked her life and her freedom for my sake?”
He stood, crossed his arms, and the faintest hint of a smile threatened the corners of his mouth. “You did strike me as the sort who’d shake off the dirt of our small town the minute you found yerself back among yer kind.”
Emma’s temper began a slow boil, but she made herself tamp it down. It was far more important to see to her friend’s well-being than to make a point with this dreadful brute. “Well, I’m not that sort, and I’d like to see your prisoner, please.”
His shoulders shook some with what Emma suspected was amusement, but she again kept her focus on the truly important. In the end, he gave a sharp nod. “Reckon it can’t hurt to let ya go on in and spend a while with her. Might do her some good and perk her up a mite. I hear the judge won’t make his circuit here until fall at the soonest. That didn’t sit right well with her.”
“Of course it didn’t!” Emma shook her head in disgust. “What kind of monsters are in charge of our laws and courts? Holding a brave woman like Colley like some wild, dangerous animal in a cage. You should be ashamed, sir.”
Again, the marshal seemed amused, but this time, he took a huge ring with a large collection of keys attached, and then gestured toward a door behind his desk. “Best leave that dog here. I’ll watch her. This way, please, Miss Crowell.”
They walked down the dreariest, most drab corridor Emma had ever seen, or hoped to see again. On either side, cages lined the way, the steel bars formidable indeed. The two men she saw contained within made her both shudder and pray for their condition. Finally, at the end of the grim hall, the lawman stopped and aimed a key into the lock in the cage’s door.
“Here ya go, Colley,” he said. “You’ve a visitor I reckon you’ll welcome. Can’t give you long to visit, but it should do ya good.”
Emma flew into the cell, dismay and grief flooding her heart at the sight before her. Strong, confident Colley had been reduced to a shadow of herself in only weeks. She’d clearly lost weight, lines on her face had deepened considerably, and the pewter-colored hair Emma had so admired now sported new streaks of white. On the other hand, the blue eyes shone with their usual vibrancy, and Colley’s embrace was as warm and welcoming as Emma remembered.
“You poor thing!” she cried. “So many things about all this are wrong. You should not be here, you know.”
Colley led Emma to a narrow cot outfitted with a thin blanket and dingy sheet. Although neat and smoothly spread, the bed looked as dreary as everything else Emma had seen since she walked into the jail.
“Don’t know I can rightly say I don’t belong here, Emma,” Colley said. “I did kill Sawyer, and the Good Lord is the one what has that right.”
“B-but he would have… have”—she gestured to fill in her lack of words—“gone ahead and done his dreadful deed. And then, who knows who else he would have harmed? You’re a hero. When we didn’t have a policeman or—or a marshal anywhere in sight, you did what had to be done. I doubt the high and mighty Marshal Blair would have done any differently in your position.”
“But that’s his job, and it ain’t mine. That’s the difference.”
“You shouldn’t be here, anyway. And I’m going to see you’re set free to go back home to the camp immediately.”
Colley’s blue eyes twinkled for the first time since Emma had walked into the jail cell. “And how’re ya thinkin’ to do that, missy?”
Emma went on to tell her friend of her plans and her father’s efforts on Colley’s behalf. She told of the lawyer she suspected would arrive soon to advocate for immediate release. “Understand, Colley, Papa will send the finest lawyer in the West to help you. You will be free again, and soon. We’re determined to see this happen. And I will make certain it does. Believe me. I’ll make sure you don’t spend a moment longer here than necessary.”
Although Colley’s expression revealed her skepticism, she thanked Emma for every effort she was making for her sake. Then she started in with questions of her own, about Emma’s trips, about Portland, about the father she was sure had been overjoyed to be reunited with the daughter he’d been sure he’d lost.
Emma answered it all. Well, almost. She did dodge the older woman’s questions about the reasons for her return, and in the process she learned Robby had made a quick and good recovery after he woke.
“He cain’t go playing all wild-like all over the mountain for a while yet,” Colley said, “but he’s fine, and Doc’s said many a time he’ll be finer’n frog’s teeth from this. Won’t ever be any more’n a memory—bad memory—for us all. Don’t think I’ve ever seen Peter so happy as when they came to see me ’fore they left for the camp.”
Aha! So now she knew where they were. She wouldn’t have to resume her vigil at Doc’s house, waiting for Robby to be ready to go back home.
Home… funny how that rough camp had become so appealing and welcoming to her, how it beckoned her more than Papa’s fine house, how it felt like home to her. She said her good-byes to Colley, who banged a navy-blue-and-white-speckled chamber pot against a bar on the cell’s door. The marshal showed up right away.
As Emma walked behind the lawman toward the front of the jail, it occurred to her to ask after Ned. “What have you done with him?”
He barked out a laugh. “Ain’t done a thing with the fella. You want to see ’im? He’s right here.”
To Emma’s horror, he stopped before the cell of one of the two prisoners she’d noticed before. The man inside appeared to awaken from a nap when he heard the sound of keys outside his cell. “Wha—what?” His eyes grew wide when he saw her. “Miss Emma! You’re here. Why… how can that be?”
“I’ve come to visit,” she said around the lump in her throat.
The marshal opened the cell and Emma stepped inside, again irked by the situation. Ned didn’t belong behind bars any more than Colley did. What future did the young man have there? Instead of being locked up, he should be up at the camp, working hard, helping Wade, learning from Colley and Peter how to make something of great worth of his life. She couldn’t wait until that lawyer fellow of Papa’s arrived in Bountiful. She’d told her father how the man might have more than one client who deserved to be set free.
After a quick farewell, she stepped outside the jail and came to a complete ha
lt on the boardwalk beside her enormous trunk and her smaller travel satchel, as well as her two hatboxes. She had no idea what to do next. She knew nobody in town. Nobody besides the marshal.
And the doctor…
A short while later, she was in the Chalmers’ parlor, recounting her experiences to the doctor’s wife. After a peaceful night in their extra room, they helped her find someone to take her to the camp, and before long, she was on her way.
Excitement and nerves tangled in her gut. Prayers kept her sane on the way there. Peter… Peter… Peter…, the wagon wheels seemed to say.
It was all in his hands now. She prayed he’d welcome her back.
“Lady Emma, Lady Emma, Lady Emma!” Robby cried when he saw her descend from the wagon in the shadowy dusk. Then the child burst into tears. “Are you really real? And you’re back again?”
Heedless of the dirt, Emma dropped down onto one knee and opened her arms wide. The boy threw himself against her, his sobs touching a deep corner of her heart. With tears soaking her face, she scanned the clearing in front of the cabin, looked toward the barn, out to the meadow, but saw no sign of the man she sought.
She patted Robby’s back. “Hush, now, honey. I’m real—see? You’re hugging me, and I’m hugging you right back.”
“But you left!” he cried, his words a painful reproach. “I thought… well, you were gone.” He looked up, and Emma saw her worst fears drawn in the agony he revealed. “I thought you’d left me like… like my mama did.”
Her heart squeezed painfully tight. “Oh, Robby…” She wished there was more she could say, but she had to content herself with a weak, “I’m here now.”
And if I have anything to do with it, I’m never leaving you again.
For long moments, as the burnt-orange sun in the far western horizon crept lower down the sky, she held the child close and satisfied her maternal hunger with the sturdy reality of his presence at her side. Clearly, he’d recovered, as both Colley and the Chalmers had told her. But it was one thing to hear about it. It was quite another to see it, touch it for herself. She ran shaky fingers across his forehead, over the still-red scar where he’d bled so much.
“Miss Emma!” Wade called out, approaching from the meadow. “What brings you here?”
She stood, but kept Robby’s hand tightly tucked into her own. “I… well, I had to come back. There is… there were things I needed to do here.” She looked down at the still-teary child beside her. “I just couldn’t stay away.”
“How long will you be staying with us?” the young man asked, his eyes bright with appreciation as he stared at her. “Do you have your things with you?”
She avoided his first question, since she had no idea how to answer. “My trunk and travel bags are in the wagon.” She indicated them with a quick wave. “Could you please see to the driver and that my things are brought inside? Pippa’s in her basket, as well.” She hoped he’d hurry off to find Peter before unloading the wagon.
Her stomach, however, leaped with misgiving at the upcoming encounter. She sent up a silent prayer for God’s blessing. The thought of Peter’s rejection made her queasy. Would he reject her? Or was there hope yet? Her breath caught in her throat, and she grew lightheaded.
“Fellas!” Wade cried out in the direction of the barn. “I’m needing your help out here.” He faced her again. “Won’t be but a minute, miss.”
Then he looked down at Robby, who’d begun to scuff the dirt beneath his feet. “And I thought you’d agreed to stay inside and rest this afternoon. Remember? Doc said you can’t go tiring yourself too often. Go on inside. Miss Emma will likely want to rest a bit, so you’ll have her for company.”
Fellas. And she’d be the one to keep the child company inside. Something was off.
“What is…?” She stopped, unsure how to word her question. Aside from needing to see Peter, what exactly did she want to know? “Who…?”
But no one paid her weak attempts any mind. Emma tamped down her curiosity and worry long enough to guide Robby back inside. The condition of the cabin took her aback. A stack of dishes sat on the shelf near the back door. A variety of items covered the top of the table, not the least of which was a saddle and three unidentifiable—to her—tools. The bunks dripped bedding down the side, and Mrs. Lowery’s rocker still sat before the hearth.
“What is this, pray tell?” she asked Wade when he walked in.
The ranch hand blushed. “I’m sorry, Miss Emma. I’m not much for housekeeping an’ all that. Been busy out with the flock these past few days.” He dropped her satchel and hatboxes as though they were embers searing his hands—unlike the evidently cold hearth—and backed toward the door. “The Moore boys’ll bring in yer trunk in a minute. Driver said he’d be heading back now. Honored to see ya again.”
With a tap to his brow, he grasped the door latch behind him and scurried away. Two young men trooped in then. “Where’d you want us to leave this?” the taller of the two asked.
“Over there.” She indicated the corner where the spinning wheel and Mrs. Lowery’s trunk still sat. Where she’d dredged up the gumption to order these two, she’d never know, but something was certainly wrong. It would appear no one was minding the cabin.
“There you are, ma’am,” the shorter ranch hand said. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Emma, but we have to hurry. Wade’ll be after us to finish out in the barn before suppertime.”
She glanced at the hearth. “Supper?”
The young man shrugged. “Bread, leftover mutton roast, and a can or two from the shed.” And then he left.
Before she could catch her breath, Robby tugged at her hand. “See? We need you here, Lady Emma. Please don’t ever, never leave us again. Promise?”
At his words, she released his hand and stumbled to the table. She drew out a chair, and shoved an implement out of her way. She plunked an elbow on the space she’d opened and pressed her forehead against her palm. This was not the welcome she’d expected.
But she couldn’t sit there, feeling sorry for herself. She’d come back to take her rightful place in this camp, and she evidently had done so not one minute too soon.
“I came back, Robby, because I want to be here. I didn’t want to leave, but I had to let my papa know I was fine after getting lost in the woods. As soon as I did that, I returned.” Dear Lord, give me the words to do this right. “I do want to stay and never leave without you again. But I don’t know if I can promise that. It’s not up to me this time. It’s up to your father, and I don’t know what he wants.”
The boy gave a tiny giggle, then covered his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Emma’s nerves stretched to the breaking point. While Robby might think her plight humorous, she surely did not. What did Peter want? Did he still want her? And what would she do if he didn’t?
There was at least one question the child surely could answer for her. “Where is your father, Robby? I expected to see him the moment I arrived. Surely this… this mess in the cabin tells me he’s gone.”
Another giggle, followed by a rapid series of nods. “He’s gone.”
Now she knew she’d truly fallen through that fictional Alice’s rabbit hole without a doubt. Peter had insisted he’d never leave the camp before the fall. He’d left when his son’s life hung in the balance, but now? No. He’d never willingly leave again.
Fear slammed into her. “Is he well? Did he hurt himself? Has he caught an illness of some sort?”
Robby danced from foot to foot, his eyes bright with hidden knowledge. Emma wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him still until he gave her the answers she wanted. But she couldn’t make herself stop his enjoyment. Even if it came at her expense.
“Nope,” he said, then giggled some more.
She searched her mind for any plausible possibility, landing on the only one left. “Did he go to town to help Colley?”
The boy’s chortles of laughter rang in the room. “Nuh-uh-uh!” He spun and swirled
his arm through the air, and then, in the grandest gesture a child of his size could manage, he dropped into a deep, deep bow. When he stood again, the grin lit up his face with the purest of joy. “King Peter,” he declared, “has gone to fetch us his queen!”
Emma’s knees went weak. Her throat tightened. “Queen? What queen?”
He let out a resounding cheer. “You! Papa went to find you!”
While a part of Emma wanted to believe what Robby said, another, more sensible part feared his imagination had gotten the best of him.
After she’d donned a simple cotton blouse and calico skirt, she went to work on the mess in the home. She scrubbed the dishes and pans, and she put Robby to separate the random objects on the table into distinct piles while Pippa sat at his feet. On the one pile, he placed everything that belonged outside, and on the other the tools that never should have landed on the table in the first place. She opened tins of vegetables to go with the mutton and bread, put a pot of coffee to brew, and set the table for the three men, Robby, and herself.
Everywhere she turned, every time she looked at the child who refused to leave her side, all that filled her mind were thoughts of Peter. He surely would return soon, since she wasn’t anywhere he might think to search for her. The thought of his arrival at the camp set off a flurry of flutters and feelings of nervousness utterly unfamiliar to her. She wanted him there, at the camp, with her and the others, but she didn’t know what would happen once he saw her running the home on her own.
She knew what Robby had said, but what if the child had persuaded himself that was where Peter had gone because he’d wanted her back so badly? Worse yet, what if Peter had gone after her to bring her to the cabin as a housekeeper and a mother to his son? What if he didn’t love her as she loved him?
No. That couldn’t be. There had been that kiss…