This time it was Casey’s turn to frown. “What do you mean, Mister—” The boy managed to stop himself in mid-sentence, and then he smiled. “Sorry about that.” Then he shook his head and made a forced effort.
“Owen,” he said instead, grimacing slightly as he uttered the mayor’s name.
“Much better,” Owen said, giving the boy a sly smile. Casey had done so well since taking the job in the town office that it was difficult for Owen to express how satisfied with him he was.
Casey gave him a questioning look, making it obvious he was still worried about the report. Owen shook his head.
“You’ve taken care of everything, right?” he asked.
“I have,” Casey replied, shaking his head vigorously. “That’s why I was just checking over this last minute stuff. Wanted to make sure I have it all right.”
The mayor smiled. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he said, keeping his tone soothing. Then Owen paused. “You have a young wife at home, do you not? A new wife, in fact.”
“Yes sir,” Casey replied. “I imagine she’s home waiting for me by now.”
“Indeed,” Owen replied, nodding. “That’s why I mentioned her.”
The boy frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Owen cocked his head. “And how are things going between the two of you?” he asked.
Casey blinked, and once again he looked slightly anxious. “Why, fine, at least as far as I know,” he said. “Why do you ask?’
The mayor shrugged. “No particular reason,” he replied, and then Owen realized that wasn’t quite the case at all. “Actually, I’m concerned about the people who work for me. That they spend enough time together.”
“Oh!” Casey blinked again, and he nodded, finally starting to understand what the mayor was up to. “So . . . are you saying you want me to go home to her?”
Owen nodded and smiled. “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.
Then he nodded at the papers on Casey’s desk. The pile wasn’t quite as big as Owen’s but it was serious enough.
“All of this will still be here in the morning,” he added.
Casey nodded, and then he blushed. “Yeah,” he said, and his blush deepened at his casual tone. “I guess it will. Certainly can’t argue with you there.”
“Nor would I want you to,” Owen replied, grinning. “At least not on that particular matter.”
Casey nodded again, knowing how much the mayor liked feedback from everyone who worked for him on all his projects.
It was one of the things he’d enjoyed most about working for the Town of Last Chance so far, and he knew his future there was very promising as long as he continued to work hard.
Which was why he’d been working so late. Still, though, Casey was happy the mayor had stopped by.
He did feel guilty about not being home for Bonnie, and he was eager to see how her day had gone with the work she’d been doing for the quilting bee, for they’d discussed it extensively over supper the night before.
Casey looked up at the mayor, who nodded over at his jacket, which he’d hung on a stand in the corner of the room.
“I guess it’s time, then,” the boy said with a smile, glancing at his coat and then back at Owen.
“Definitely,” the mayor said with a nod. “You have a wife at home, and I expect the two of you are eager to start a family as well.”
Casey blushed again, and Owen grinned at the boy’s discomfort.
It was one of the things he enjoyed most about bringing mail order brides to Last Chance, seeing them pass through the awkward initial stages of marriage, then have their first child.
“We are,” Casey replied, slowly standing. His cheeks were still bright red, and he looked at Owen expectantly, having the feeling the mayor was going to say something about that.
“And how is that part of it going?” the mayor asked, getting the sense the boy was eager to talk about some part of it.
“Pretty good, mostly,” the boy said, and Owen could see Casey’s neck turn red as he turned to get his coat. When he turned back to face him, though, Owen realized there was something else about this that was troubling Casey.
“We’re a little frustrated, though,” he admitted, looking down at the floor so he wouldn’t have to meet the mayor’s gaze.
“How so?” Owen asked, motioning to Casey to blow out the lone candle he’d been using to light his efforts.
Thank goodness he’s calling it a day, the mayor thought. I must remember to get new lanterns for evening work, and soon at that.
Casey shrugged as they walked out together. “I don’t know, really,” he said, suppressing the urge to add yet another “Mister mayor” to his admission of indecision. “I guess we just expected everything to happen right away.”
Owen nodded as he opened the door for him. “Everything happens in its own due time,” he replied. “Especially being in a family way.”
“I know, I guess,” Casey said, and Owen could see him grimace in the light of the fast-rising moon. “I suppose I’m just not being patient enough.”
The mayor nodded again, thinking of his own experience with Dottie and their lone son. They’d been lucky to have the boy; Dottie had nearly died in childbirth, and it had taken near-constant care from Doctor Jessup to keep the baby boy alive.
“It can be a test, and a trial,” Owen said. “But you’ll be fine.”
Suddenly Casey frowned, and he turned emotional. “But how do you know that?” he asked. “None of us can know anything like that for sure, can we?”
“You’re right,” Owen admitted, nodding. “But I know more about these kinds of matters than you think.”
“What do you mean?” the boy asked, confused.
Owen sighed. Should I tell him? he asked himself. Perhaps he’ll just dismiss me as an old man telling stories that have nothing to do with him.
In his heart, however, the mayor knew that wasn’t the case at all. Everyone in Last Chance respected him, and evidence of the town’s growth and prosperity were all around, serving as proof of that respect.
His moments of doubt were few and far between, and for the most part Owen knew he was justified in the pride he felt.
They left Town Hall and walked down Main Street together in the near darkness, watching the specter of the rising moon. Then Owen noticed that Casey was still looking expectantly at him, waiting for an answer to his question.
With that, Owen made a decision. Slowly, he began to tell Casey of his and Dottie’s great ordeal. The mayor said little about how much that test changed him, for much of that was intrinsic in the story itself, or so he believed.
When the story was over, the boy was quite speechless. Clearly he had no idea what to say, until finally Casey gave forth with a single utterance.
“Wow,” he said softly. “I didn’t know about any of this.”
Owen nodded slightly. “Very few people do,” he said softly. “I don’t tell this story often.”
Casey returned his nod, growing slightly emotional as he did. He wondered what had prompted the mayor to share something this intimate with him, but clearly this was not the time to ask.
“Well, I appreciate your sharing it with me,” he said softly. “It means a lot to me. And it makes our struggles, if you can even call them that, look very small indeed.”
The mayor shrugged. “Our struggles are our struggles,” he replied. “Large or small, we do not get to choose them, mostly. Many are simply brought on to test us.”
Casey took a step as if to leave, but then Owen spoke again.
“I told you this story for a reason, you know,” he said.
The boy frowned. “Mister Mayor?” he said, unable to keep himself from using Owen’s title.
Owen just smiled. “I believe your presence here is very important,” he explained. “As is Bonnie’s. The two of you have accomplished a great deal in a short period of time, and I believe you have much more to do in that regard.”
&nbs
p; “Thank you,” Casey replied, this time resisting the urge to use Owen’s title. “We sure have worked as hard as we can.”
The mayor nodded. “I know,” he said. “And that’s why I think you should do the opposite this time.”
Once again Casey frowned. “What do you mean, sir?” he asked.
“Sometimes it’s important to let go of the urge to work so hard when it comes to starting a family,” he said, managing a small, sly smile as he spoke. “If you know what I mean.”
With that, Casey broke out in a broad grin. “I believe I do, sir,” he said, resisting the urge to add the title one final time. “I’ll make sure I go home and have a nice quiet dinner with the missus tonight.”
Owen’s smile grew as well. “You do that,” he said, nodding. “It sounds like a fine start. And I do believe it will get you pointed in the right direction. If you know what I mean.”
Casey sighed when he reached his street and saw the lights on in the window. The candles were lit at the dining room table, and he looked forward to having a wonderful dinner with Bonnie.
As he strode up the walkway, though, there were no familiar smells. Bonnie usually cooked steaks for him, and on a near-nightly basis at that.
Casey had gotten used to the wonderful odor of his impending dinner, but now, as he sniffed the air he couldn’t smell much of anything.
He reached the porch, frowning as he climbed the steps. Casey wasn’t even inside yet, and already he could tell there was something off in the atmosphere in and around the house.
Call it a sixth sense if you will, he said to himself. But something isn’t right.
Sure enough, Bonnie wasn’t at the door to greet him when he opened it. He peered into the living room, and she wasn’t on the sofa that was one of their few pieces of furniture either.
Casey made his way quietly into the dining room, growing more worried as he did. Still no food smells, he thought. I wonder what’s happened.
Backtracking into the living room, Casey slowly hung up his coat. Then he walked slowly up the stairs to the bedroom, wondering where Bonnie had gotten off to.
“Bonnie?” he said, softly and speculatively. “Is everything all right?”
He peered carefully into the bedroom, wondering if his wife was sick. She wasn’t, however, or if she was, her health was failing elsewhere.
Then, finally, Casey found her. Bonnie was in the second bedroom, the smaller one they hadn’t used yet. It was the one they’d planned to use as a bedroom when Bonnie conceived and had their first child.
Now, though, Casey noticed that there’d been a new addition of sorts to the room—an object that hadn’t been there before.
It was a crib. And Bonnie was standing over it, sobbing. She looked up, and Casey saw from the redness of her eyes that she must have been crying for some time.
“Bonnie!” he said, his voice choked with emotion as he went to her. “Are you all right?”
She blinked, and a small, fresh stream of tears began trickling down her cheek. “I’m fine,” Bonnie said, looking down at the crib forlornly.
Then she sighed and took a deep breath. Casey merely stood by, not understanding what was happening at all.
“This arrived today,” she said, nodding down at the crib. “Stewart brought it by, I believe.”
“Oh.” Casey blinked and looked at the small, wooden-framed object. He vaguely remembered Stewart telling him that he’d made one for them, and even in his confusion he couldn’t help but notice how elegant the craftsmanship was.
“Well . . . it’s nice, I guess,” he added, his words sounding lame even as they left his mouth.
That brought a fresh outburst from Bonnie that consisted of a strangled cry, followed by a new trail of tears. She began weeping and then she looked away, more than a little embarrassed.
“Why are you crying?” Casey asked, feeling extremely uncomfortable at her tears. The emotions of women were still a completely new world for him, and there were times when he wondered if he would ever understand any of it.
Bonnie looked at him, and her eyes widened. Then she shook her head in disbelief at his evident lack of understanding.
“I’ve failed you!” she wailed, her tone distraught. Casey frowned, and Bonnie shook her head harder and then pointed down at the crib.
“Don’t you understand??” she asked, sounding almost furious now. “I’ve failed you.”
Casey shook his head, wondering what on earth he should do. Should I talk to her? he thought. Or simply take her in my arms? All of this is just a mystery to me.
And it would remain so, at least for the next few seconds. Bonnie’s body slumped over the crib, and then she was wracked with sobs.
I would’ve thought she’d be all cried out by now, Casey thought. But evidently not.
Finally he walked around the crib and approached her from behind, still uncertain as to what exactly he was going to do.
Casey put her hand gently on Bonnie’s shoulder, and then he slid it down toward her shoulder blade, gently rubbing as he did.
“You haven’t failed me, you know,” he said, with no earthly idea if he’d found the right words for the situation, or even if there were any.
Bonnie turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes glistening with tears. She blinked, looking slightly hopeful, and for a moment Casey thought he might wriggle out of this predicament with his sanity intact.
“I haven’t?” she said softly.
He shook his head slightly. “Course not,” he said. “We just started trying to have young ‘uns a short time ago, didn’t we?”
She cocked her head slowly. “Well . . . yes, I suppose,” Bonnie replied. “I guess it hasn’t been that long.”
Casey nodded, determined to press the slight advantage he seemed to have gained. “And it does take time, doesn’t it?” he asked rhetorically.
Bonnie shrugged. “I suppose,” she said again, a tinge of sadness creeping into her voice. “But I certainly wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“Well, I don’t know much either,” Casey replied. “But the mayor actually spoke with me about it today.”
“Owen Standard??” Bonnie said, her eyes widening with fear. “You mean everyone knows about this??”
“No, no,” Casey said, extending his palms in a calming gesture. “He actually told me a story about his own experience.”
Bonnie shook her head in confusion. “A story?” she asked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand at all.”
“Hmm.” Casey studied her, wondering if this was the right time for him to tell her the entire version of the story. Perhaps it was best left for another time.
“Well, I’d love to tell you about it over dinner,” he proposed. “If’n you wouldn’t mind.”
Bonnie sighed, and then suddenly she looked distraught once again.
“Oh my goodness,” she said in a rush, her eyes widening in alarm this time. “I’ve failed you again.”
Goodness gracious, Casey thought. What on earth could it be now?
“Failed me how?” he asked, wondering how he could calm this latest storm.
Bonnie began to sob again, more softly this time. “I’m afraid I didn’t make any dinner for you,” she exclaimed, her tone a slightly quieter wail.
“Oh,” he said, trying not to sound disappointed. “Well, is there anything available? Might be a little too late to cook up a couple of steaks.”
She shrugged. “Just some soup I made this morning before I left,” Bonnie said forlornly. “I left it on the stove.”
Casey managed a grin. “Well, that’d be fine by me,” he said, doing his best to sound enthusiastic.
She smiled. “You’re lying, you know,” Bonnie said. “And I know it.”
He shrugged. “Not really,” he said, giving her a shy smile. Then Casey leaned over and gave his wife a soft peck on the cheek. “I really just want for you to be all right.”
Bonnie nodded, stifling one last sob, and she rea
ched up to wipe her tears away. Then she fell into an embrace with Casey, enjoying the warmth of his body against hers. She was beginning to get an idea of what the Colorado winter would be like, and she thanked God for his presence.
“Soup it will be then, husband,” Bonnie said when the embrace ended. She managed a small smile. “And remember, you said it would be fine.”
Casey chuckled, and without thinking he slipped his hand in hers. This small gesture had become habitual between them, and to Bonnie it was one of the most comforting things about being married, the fact that Casey did this frequently and without hesitation.
I’m so fortunate to have found him, Bonnie thought as they walked back downstairs hand in hand. So many men out on the prairie are downright cruel, or callous to their women. To have this kind of love is a blessing above all else.
The next morning, Bonnie received an unexpected inspiration. And as is often the case with such things, it began as a form of frustration.
When she arrived at Town Hall with Casey, the first thing Bonnie did was go to her small office and check one of her many lists.
The one she was focused on was the list for the quilting bee. Bonnie had the nagging feeling when she got up that she’d missed someone on her rounds yesterday.
Sure enough, she had.
It was the final name on the list, of course, and there at the bottom Bonnie saw the name: Althea Harris.
She peered intently at the name, not remembering a thing about the woman. Unfortunately, staring more didn’t increase the power of her memory, and Bonnie decided to walk down the hall to ask Owen Standard about her, and see if she could get the town stagecoach to take her out to see her.
“Excuse me, Mister Mayor?” she said, rapping softly on Owen’s door.
Owen sighed. I guess I’m never going to get these two to stop using my title, he thought.
He smiled as he turned, and then he waved her into his office. “Come on in, Bonnie,” he said, nodding at the chair next to his desk. “What can I do for you?”
She walked toward the chair with some trepidation, wondering if the mayor would take her oversight as an error.
“I . . . I missed someone on my rounds yesterday,” Bonnie began haltingly. “For the quilting bee.
The Mail Order Brides of Last Chance Page 9