Chapter One
Alder Gulch 1867
Josiah McClintock read the letter once again. His mother’s flowing handwritten words reminded him of his staunch aristocratic upbringing. Precise, clear and to the point.
Charles,
It is imperative you return home immediately. A year is long enough for mourning and you need to reevaluate your circumstances. The time has come to assume your place within the family that is your birthright. Your father, ever patient, insists on waiting. I disagree.
Traditionally families in our situation would have the option of passing the title that is rightfully yours to the second son, in this case your brother Anthony. Which will not do at all. You know your brother’s penchant for unmentionable activities. Unfortunately he has not matured.
Upon your return your engagement to Beatrice Livingston will be announced. I am sure you have received correspondence from her. Respond to her letters and assure her of your expedient return and acceptance to marry.
Your father sends his regards.
Your mother,
Lady Clarice Cavendish
He folded the thick paper and slid it back into the heavy parchment envelope. It was easy to picture his mother’s pinched brow and pursed lips when writing the letter. Interesting how English his family remained even after moving to America. Absently he scratched at his unshaven jaw and looked toward the shelf where the letters from Beatrice Livingston remained unopened.
Paper and ink waited next to his forearm and he toyed with the idea of not responding. However he knew his mother. If he did not write her, she’d send someone to fetch him and that would not do. Of course, if anyone came asking for Charles Cavendish, they would be unsuccessful in finding him right away. He’d taken his middle name and mother’s Irish last name upon moving west. In an effort to forget the pain of the past, he figured it was best to withdraw from his true identity.
The rustic cabin he’d been given to live in by the rancher Hank Cole, who he worked for, felt more like home than the large estate his parents owned ever did.
How different his lifestyle was now than just a year earlier. Instead of soft tailor made shoes, he wore heavy sturdy well-made boots. Instead of foxhunts filled with pomp and circumstance, he chased after cattle with a couple of ranching dogs.
The fire crackled and Josiah stood and added another log to feed it. In actuality he no longer needed to maintain the cabin. His employer provided a suitable space in the bunkhouse during the week. But for Josiah who liked to spend time alone, the cabin was the one place he could think and make decisions. Like at the present when he had to send a suitable reply to his mother.
The option to purchase the land where the cabin stood in Montana or returning to Massachusetts and assuming his role as the heir to the family fortune and title of Lord Cavendish, Earl of Southam, wore heavily on his mind.
The second of the choices meant that once again his life would change, he would return to a totally different world where choices were dictated by polite society. Then there was the added element of facing the stark truth that his Hannah was gone forever.
Remaining in Montana meant he would continue to live as Josiah McClintock where only an occasional totally different reminder of Hannah would cross his path.
Laura Foster, the woman whose uncanny resemblance to his dead fiancée had caught him by surprise. Her wavy auburn tresses and large green eyes were the same as Hannah’s. There were major differences of course, Laura had a small upturned nose with a sprinkling of freckles and her mouth, the bottom lip fuller than the top giving the appearance of a permanent pout. She was also taller than Hannah, her body just as pleasant...well he wouldn’t think of that.
He began to write a response. Somehow, he would put off his mother for now; ask for a few months to ponder his final decision. His father was still young and in good health, no reason to hurry to bring home his heir.
Besides at twenty-eight, Josiah could wait several more years before forced to marry and conceive a son to carry the title.
Josiah chuckled. No one cared about such nonsense out here. If his friends, the Cole twins, Grayson and Bronson, found out his true identity, he’d not hear the end of it for a long time. They’d find ways to rib him about it.
One thing he did agree on with his mother was his younger brother Anthony. The younger Cavendish would make bad decisions regarding the family’s money. He’d already squandered large amounts on gambling debts and other pursuits. There had to be a better solution, one that would spare the family’s money and keep him from marrying for society’s sake.
No matter how much he considered it, the answer didn’t come. Hopefully in the next few months it would. Else he’d find himself on the train headed east and back into cravats and silk shirts. Josiah rubbed his throat at the thought. Somehow he could not picture himself once again dressed like an overstuffed male version of a porcelain doll.
Chapter Two
The days were long, the nights longer. Laura Foster tossed and once again turned to lay on her left side in an attempt to get comfortable. She stilled and listened to the soft breathing of her young son. Unlike her, little Gabe slept soundly.
It was no use to remain in the little bed, allowing fear to keep her awake. Her thoughts relentlessly floated back to Wyoming. Was Frank really dead? If he was, then why was it so difficult for her to stop worrying? Constantly she looked over her shoulder, kept a vigil on her son and wondered when Frank would turn up and follow through on his promise. “First I’ll kill him and then you.”
On the other hand, if Frank was alive, he would have surely come by now. It was almost summertime and over six months since she’d moved in with her sister and family.
The heat in the small room, once used for storing dry goods, became oppressive. It would be more comfortable if Laura could bring herself to open the tiny window. But that would leave her vulnerable if she fell asleep.
Beads of sweat formed on Gabe’s forehead. Finally she gave in and cracked the window open. Seconds later fresh air rushed in and cooled her overheated face. She let out a sigh and scanned the horizon. The night was clear. Thankfully with the full moon she had a good view. There was no one out as far as she could see.
Moments later something rushed past the window and she could barely stop the scream from escaping. Her heart pounded against her breastbone and Laura fought to catch her breath. In that moment, her only thought was to keep her baby from waking, to keep him from crying in fright and alerting whatever it was to his presence. A hand grabbed her throat.
“Augh!” Laura jerked and sat upright. She was in her bed, the window was open, but everything was quiet and unperturbed. It was a dream.
“You didn’t sleep well,” Amelia her sister stated when Laura entered the kitchen the following morning. “Honestly, Laura, what is it that frightens you so? Frank is dead. He has to be. Too much time has passed. No one will harm you or Gabriel.” It was in her sister’s nature to be blunt. It was also in Amelia’s nature to be caring and supportive. She noticed everything, always kept a keen eye on her and Gabe.
How could she make her sister understand and not lay additional burdens on her? “I know, please don’t fret over me. I’m sure it’s something I will get over eventually. Now let me make a quick breakfast. There is much to do today.” Although her sister regarded her a bit longer, she didn’t say anything else about it. Instead changed the subject. “You do too much. Wyatt will expect me to keep the house as tidy if you ever leave and I will have to admit to him I’m not the housekeeper you are.”
“Well then I won’t ever leave you.” Laura neared and kissed her sister’s cheek. “You are so kind to take me and the baby in. I know it’s crowded with all the children, yet you all make us to feel so welcome--”
“Say nothing else on the subject,” Amelia interrupted. “You are the only family I have, of course you will live
here. It’s the least I can do. After all I left you behind with our parents. I should have insisted you come with Wyatt and I.” Her eyes welled and she turn away continuing to speak. “We’ll see about building on to make more room. Soon Gabe will be too old to sleep with his mama.”
Tears sprung to Laura’s eyes and she wiped at them with her arm. “You don’t owe me anything. Thank you.”
After breakfast Laura went outside. Her eyes flew to her bedroom window, a shiver working its way down her spine. Fear gripped her by the shoulders and Laura shook her head. “Moving forward,” she whispered. “Nothing to be scared of.”
In the distance a horseman stood alone, his presence reassuring.
Josiah, almost a total stranger, cared enough to keep watch.
Laura lifted her hand in greeting and he returned her gesture by lifting his. Then as he did every time she saw him, Josiah McClintock turned his horse and rode away.
Ever since the day she’d broken down and told him she feared for her and her son’s life, he’d kept his promise to keep vigil when possible. Although at times she wondered about his motivation, as he never asked for anything in exchange. Actually never came close enough to speak to her. Something about the man touched her. She’d seen something in his eyes, a deep sadness as if he too had lost much in the past. She would not look a gift horse in the mouth. On the days she spotted him, Laura was more at ease.
Just then the sound of hooves got her attention, her heart seized and she grabbed for the stick they kept beside the washbasin. A wagon neared, a slight man drove it and perched beside him, a robust woman.
Amelia came outside just as the people neared, her eyes narrowed toward the approaching wagon. “Who could that be?”
“I don’t recognize them from town,” Laura replied also attempting to focus. “It looks like the woman is waving a handkerchief.”
The couple finally neared. The thin bearded man with silver hair that sprung from under the brim tipped his hat at them. The woman, who was easily twice the size of the man, wore an oversized drooping bonnet over her salt and pepper bun. Her cheeks were flushed and she held the handkerchief over her mouth and nose. She removed it and puffed out her cheeks. “Oh goodness. I’m so glad to find you ladies home. I told Milford on the way here. What will we do if they are not there?”
Somehow the man managed to help his companion down from the cart, she wobbled forward and he held both hands up as if to stop her from falling. The woman waved him away. “Honestly, Milford move aside. I’m fine, just a bit road weary is all.”
Laura and Amelia exchanged looks, but remained quiet watching the woman waddle toward them. She smiled as if waiting for them to say something. Her hands flew up and she covered her cheeks. “Goodness, please forgive my horrible manners. I am Darlene Watts and this this is my husband Milford. We’re new to Alder Gulch, Milford accepted a job as the banker.” She waited, her eyes pinned to them.
“Oh.” Was all Laura could think to say. “Welcome. But I’m afraid you are a ways from town. It’s a little over an hour down the road.” She pointed past them.
“Yes, of course, we know that. That’s where we came from. I’m making little sense aren’t I?”
Thankfully Amelia seemed to come out of the confusion first. “I’m Amelia Davis, this is my sister Laura. Please, Mr. and Mrs. Watts, come inside for some refreshment. You must be thirsty.”
The Watts refused to impose, instead agreeing only to sit on the porch. Amelia’s two children came outside, Gabe perched on Laura’s eldest daughter’s hip. Eyes wide they stared with interest at the visitors, only to become bored quickly and scamper out to play, leaving Gabe with Laura.
Mrs. Watts fluttered from one subject to the other, her lively conversation making time pass easily. Finally her husband cleared his throat and retrieved a pocket watch, his eyes trained on it. “Darling, why don’t you tell the ladies why you are here? It’s getting late.”
“Of course, of course.” Darlene Watts managed a sheepish look, her eyes moving to the side and her lips pressed together before pinning Laura. “I came to ask if you’d be interested in helping me with an unfortunate matter. I asked around if anyone knew of a single woman who would be interested in helping me. And your name came up Miss Foster.”
“What kind of help, Mrs. Watts?”
“Milford and I have a child. She was a surprise as I was already in my late forties, you see. Now my Meredith is fourteen and in need of caring. You see she has the mentality of a five year old.”
“You’d have to live with us for at least a couple days a week. I could use the help.”
Chapter Three
The whistle of the train drowned the man’s words, not that it mattered. Josiah had stopped listening. The man’s account of his unsuccessful search for little Emily went on too long. Hannah’s little sister was lost forever. He’d failed Hannah. Her dying wish was not to be. He’d not keep the little girl safe from harm. Little Emily was dead.
His companion scanned the surroundings, his face scrunching at finding the location less than acceptable. “I’m certainly glad to be leaving when this train departs. Have never seen the allure of moving to such a place.”
Josiah followed his line of sight to the open land before them, the lush fields framed by large snow capped mountains jetting high to the bright blue sky. “It grows on a man.”
“Hmph,” the man replied and brushed an invisible speck from his shoulder. “If you’d be so kind as to pay my wages, I’ll be on my way.”
The solicitor took the wad of money Josiah proffered and walked toward the station. Over his shoulder he gave Josiah a long look, for the first time, emotion shined in the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. I do wish things were different. A child’s death is always a tragedy.”
Tragedy yes, but worse was the loss of two sisters. One in her early twenties amidst preparations for an elaborate wedding, the second a young child taken by the grief-crazed father who claimed to keep her from catching the contagious disease from her sister. He’d been too late.
Josiah mounted his horse and studied the mountains again, the green of the hills reminded him of Hannah’s eyes. Even on the brink of death, they’d been beautiful and clear. “Find her Josiah, protect her and care for her. Papa is not well and she’s all I have left.”
Once he mounted, Josiah’s shoulders slumped and he turned his horse north toward Alder Gulch. He’d inform his boss Hank Cole that he no longer needed the cabin he’d been given to live in. A young girl would not be joining him. He’d remain in the bunkhouse and live there with the other ranch hands until he made his decision.
Now he wasn’t sure if to remain in Montana, build a home and raise cattle, as once was his plan. He could always return home and get married, back to his old life. Josiah became still, the surroundings vanishing. He wasn’t sure he had any aspirations other than making it from one day to the next at this point. The one person he’d loved more than life was dead. He’d not kept his promise on her deathbed. What did it matter what he did?
A flock of birds caught his attention. The small creatures flew in a perfect V formation heading to a cusp of trees. They landed and began the business of settling for the evening with noisy chirps. His lips curved at the sight. Everything continued and in each day there was something good.
Josiah entered the big house as the Cole’s were sitting down for dinner. At the table were the patriarch Hank Cole, and his wife Elizabeth. One of the twins Grayson and his wife Nora visited. Their young son toddled about being chased by a maid.
Nora’s honey brown eyes softened at meeting his. “Josiah, I was just asking about you? Did things go well in Virginia City?”
“No. I found out the girl died of the same affliction as my Hannah.”
The women at the table gasped and Elizabeth reached for his hand covering it with hers. “I’m so sorry.” She blinked away te
ars and attempted to smile. “Just remember, you have us, Josiah. You are not alone.”
They thought him a widower, and he hated not to be honest with them. Now he maintained the lie, didn’t want to see the change in the way they’d regard him, their reaction to the son of a rich aristocrat. Nora reached across the table and put her hand over Elizabeth’s. “We care for you as one of our own. With time all will get better.”
It was his turn to blink and swallow past the lump in his throat. As grateful as he was, it did not feel the same. By now he should have been married, perhaps starting a family. It was all torn from him. In a matter of weeks, his wife-to-be was dead. The younger sister who they’d planned to raise was gone too.
His parents attempted to talk him out of leaving, but he went west following the trail of Hannah’s father who was infirmed with opium addiction when he took little Emily. And now, he couldn’t bare the thought of returning east to Virginia, to the life he once knew, a life that had always included Hannah, his childhood friend and later first love.
“Josiah, would you like to take some time and visit your family?” Nora asked, concern obvious in her solemn eyes and lowered brows.
“No, I will go to town and send a telegram to my parents to inform them. But that can wait. I’m sure they expected it to be the case.”
Grayson reached for a piece of bread his bright blue eyes meeting his. “We need to go to town tomorrow anyway. Mitch should have our shipment of grain in. Plus Nora’s given me a long list of things we need to get. If you want you can send a telegram then.”
The full moon gave enough light when he made his way to the bunkhouse. He pondered whether to take time to do his usual patrol of the land near the Davis’s home. He didn’t have to do it. Surely Laura Foster’s brother-in-law would protect them if anyone threatened. Yet he’d never seen such raw fear as the day he’d visited to tell Laura about the fire at her home back in Wyoming. She’d practically begged him to remain until her sister and husband returned from town.
Blue Horizon (Shades of Blue, Book 4) Page 2