Little Red: an Everland Ever After Tale

by Caroline Lee

She was home! Everland looked exactly the way she remembered it. Bigger, of course, but that didn’t really matter. There might be more buildings, but they all had the same Cole and King look that she’d always loved about the town. The pair had teamed up years ago to improve all of the Everland’s main streets’ buildings, and now every storefront included Rupert Cole’s distinctive curlicues and frets and Skip King’s bright colors and cheerful trim. The whole place always put her in mind of a fairy tale village.

  She’d left a few years after the railroad spur had come through, and it had apparently done the town a world of good. There were new businesses, and the old ones were comfortingly familiar. There was Spratt’s Eatery, and the Gingerbread House that Micah and the other young men visited occasionally. And Pedlar’s Mercantile and—oh look! The church social was still going on! Unable to control her excitement, Rojita grabbed a hold of Hank’s hand, and was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t pull away.

  Standing on the station platform with him felt… right. It felt right to have him here, to be bringing him to see her home. She felt unreasonably nervous in a way that didn’t have anything to do with El Lobo or this morning’s confrontation, and had everything to do with the day she’d shared with a certain taciturn bounty hunter. The train ride had been lovely, just sharing memories and small talk and learning more about him. He’d teased her and she’d blushed, and they’d kissed again, not caring who was watching. For the first time in three years, she felt like she could really be herself, and didn’t have to worry about appearances or being careful. She really liked that about him; liked being around him. And she realized that, despite his teasing and his gruff demeanor, he liked her, too. That kiss had been a pretty good indication.

  If there’d been any doubt that Hank Cutter was right for her, it had fled the moment his lips—deliciously scratchy from his short beard—had touched hers. She’d felt… like she was flying. And then, after, when he’d held her, she’d still been flying, only in an even better way. And to spend the rest of the train ride sitting beside him, tucked up into his warmth and his safety, had been flying too. And standing here, about to introduce him to her home… she was still flying.

  “So this is Everland, huh?” Hank was holding her hand tightly, and shifted his grip on his saddlebags and rifle. Just having her beside him made this homecoming feel real. She wanted to point out everything to him, to show him around, to introduce him. That last part was going to be easy, with everyone still gathered after the afternoon service at St. Alice’s.

  “Look, Hank!” She felt him squeeze her hand when she said his name, and that made her smile grow. “It’s Sunday!”

  “Yeah?”

  “So everyone’s still gathered at church, and I can introduce you!”

  She thought she heard him mutter “Swell” under his breath, but she was distracted before she could respond. Was that—? A figure broke away from the few people mingling in the church yard, and headed towards them. It was! She began to pull Hank up Andersen Avenue, towards St. Alice’s.

  “Max!” Sure enough, the dark head turned towards her, and the man’s face broke into a grin as he started towards them.

  “Rojita! As I live and breathe!” She had to let go of Hank’s hand when Max DeVille swept her into a hug, but she laughed anyhow. Her friend had always been a charmer, and today was no different. Still, when he set her down and she moved back beside Hank, it was gratifying to feel his arm snake around her shoulders. Tucked up next to Hank’s side, she smiled at Max’s curious expression. “Welcome home, little one. Your family will be happy to see you.”

  “Who’re you?” Hank’s abrupt question might be rude to someone who didn’t know him, but Max didn’t care. He just stuck his hand out.

  “Max DeVille. My father owns a stretch of land outside of town, and I’ve known Rojita since she was…” He flicked his eyes towards her once. “Well, since she was a lot smaller.”

  The joke earned a reluctant thawing from Hank, and he shook the other man’s hand. “Hard to believe she was smaller.” She hid her smile, not wanting them to realize how important it was to her that they be friends. “I’m Hank Cutter.”

  “That’s an interesting name.”

  Rojita had to defend him. “He’s an interesting man.”

  Max took a step back, put his hands on his hips, and swept his gaze back and forth between them. “I think that I can see that. I wouldn’t mind hearing how you two met.”

  Hank didn’t say anything, and Rojita knew that he was sizing up the other man, wondering how much he could reveal. She wanted to tell him that she trusted Max as much as she trusted her own family, but didn’t, because now wasn’t the time or the place. A gaggle of giggling women had spilled from the church to stand in the yard, and Rojita self-consciously straightened her spine.

  There was Rose and Snow, and their mother Mrs. White. There were the Miller girls and Briar, and all of the young ladies who’d grown up with her and Mary and Marian. They looked fancier than she remembered. More grown up. She still looked—she glanced down at herself. Like Rojita Zapato, the little orphan who had only her grandmother in the whole world. Her shoes were scuffed, her dress was mended, and her hair absolutely never did what she wanted it to. The only thing as fancy as these girls was her pretty red cloak, and even that had been a barter from a stranger who her grandfather had never seen again.

  Soon, she would see her Abuela again, and Hank would meet her, and he’d know. He’d know that she wasn’t wealthy, and couldn’t afford the money that she’d promised him. He’d know that she’d been lying to him, had tricked him into protecting her. And then…

  What? He’d leave, right? That’s what he’d been planning on doing anyhow. That’s what she’d assumed would happen. But what if he didn’t? What if he was angry at her trick, and demanded the money, money they didn’t have?

  She looked up at him, still making small talk with Max, and swallowed down her fear. There had to be something she had that he wanted. Judging from the way he’d kissed her—surely that kiss wasn’t because of the money?—there was something he wanted very much. And Rojita realized, at that moment, that she was willing to give it to him. Here was a man who’d risked himself for her, a man who made her irritated and happy and nervous and bubbly, whose touch filled her with butterflies and warmth. Oh yes, he was a special man, and he’d make it special for her, too.

  She did have something that she could barter with, if it came to it.

  “Rojita?” She didn’t recognize the voice, but she should have. Micah was older now, taller and broader and oh-so-handsome. He was grinning as he strode across the churchyard towards her, and she gaped. When had her little brother gotten so big? They’d written over the years—well, she’d written, and someone had read her letters to him—so she’d kept up with him and the younger kids, but it was still a shock to see him looking so… manly.

  With a laugh, she threw herself into his arms and he swept her around in a circle. When he put her down, she patted his bicep once, twice, still marveling at how much he’d grown. “What are you doing back in town? Does Abuela know you’re here? Dios mio, Rojita, tell me that you wrote to her? She’ll have a conniption if you surprise her.”

  Micah had always been a worrier—and had picked up Abuelo’s favorite exclamation, the same way Rojita had—but she was too happy to care right now. She was home! “Come meet my friend, the man who brought me home. He’s over—” She was turning to point out Hank standing stoically beside Max when a high-pitched squeal stopped her, and suddenly her arms were filled with children. There was Tom Tucker, and Mary Contrary, and good Heavens, was that little Jack Horner all grown up? The twins and Baby Blue hung back, until Mary called out her name again, and they remembered, and came for their hugs.

  Rojita couldn’t remember feeling filled with more love, more contentment than at that moment, surrounded by the people she called family. As she met Hank’s eyes over Tom’s curls, the taste of his lips flashed through h
er memory, and she had to modify her realization. There’d been another moment, just this morning, that had been this special, too.

  Boy, what a day.

  The children were all clamoring for her attention, and she couldn’t answer them all nearly fast enough. Then she heard the voice that had meant so much to her as a child. “Rojita, mi hija! Welcome home.”

  Abuela stood at the edge of the churchyard, her arms outstretched, and Rojita shook off the children as fast as she could, in an effort to get to her. She looked… older. More worn, more slouched. Like the weight of the last years had pressed against her shoulders. But her smile was still the same, still welcoming. Still bright and shining and full of love for children who no one else wanted.

  Their embrace lasted long enough for Rojita to forget where they were, to focus only on the musty scent of flour and beans and shoe-oil she hadn’t forgotten in her years away, while Abuela whispered welcoming nonsense in her own wonderful mixture of Spanish and English she’d learned over the years

  After a long while, Rojita pulled back, her arms still around Abuela, and made sure that she saw her smile. “I’ve missed you, Abuela. I’ve missed you all. I’ve missed Everland.”

  “It is good that you have come home.” Abuela clasped her hands to Rojita’s cheeks in a pose eerily similar to the way Hank had held her only that morning. Maybe something showed in her face, because the older woman frowned. “But you no write to tell you coming home? What is wrong, mi hija? Why you…”

  “I’m happy to be here, Abuela, but it’s not for a good visit. I have to talk to you.”

  “About Ernesto, no? I can see in your face.” Rojita nodded glumly, sorry to ruin their reunion with the news about Abuelo’s will. But her grandmother just sighed, and pulled her close for another hug. “I am still glad you come home.”

  “Me too.” Pressed against the old woman’s shoulder, Rojita inhaled deeply and knew that she was where she needed to be. But she felt somehow… empty. Now that she was here, now that she was going to introduce Abuela to Hank, was she going to lose him?

  “I think you have other news, no? You did not come all this way alone?”

  Taking her grandmother’s frail hand in hers, Rojita pulled her towards the small group of men. Max and Micah took a few steps back to allow her to tug her grandmother closer. “Abuela, this is Hank Cutter. He saved my life, and then brought me home. He’s been protecting me.”

  “And you care for him, no?”

  She should’ve been embarrassed by the forthright question, especially with Hank standing right there looking like he wanted to know the answer too. But she wasn’t; she wanted him to know the truth. So she lifted her chin, looked him right in those creamy brown eyes, and spoke to her grandmother. “Yes.”

  Something like surprise flickered across his face, but then it was gone, replaced by his usual stoic expression. He didn’t fool Abuela, though. She shuffled forward—still using the cane Abuelo had fashioned for her years before—and put one hand on Hank’s shoulder. Of course, he was significantly taller than her, so she had to stretch, but it was worth it to see him raise both brows. Rojita knew it was as close to surprise as he was likely to show. “Welcome to Everland. You brought our girl home. Gracias, mi hijo.”

  “I’m not your son.” Hank sounded even gruffer than usual, but Abuela didn’t let that bother her. She just patted his shoulder a few times, comfortingly, and smiled that six-toothed smile of hers.

  “Everyone in Everland is my son and daughter, mi hijo. You will come to know this soon.”

  Except that he wasn’t staying. Rojita didn’t have the heart to tell her that now, not when Abuela obviously liked him, and now knew that she liked him too. Liked him a little more than she should, for a man she’d just met the other day. For a man who was leaving soon.

  For a man she’d lied to.

  Suddenly she couldn’t stand the thought of him discovering her lie today. Not after the way he’d defended her this morning. Not after that kiss they’d shared, or the other kisses on the train. Not after the way he’d held her and stroked her arm through her cloak, not just to warm her, but to comfort her too. No, today was special, and Rojita wouldn’t ruin it.

  Besides, it was her homecoming day, and that was a perfect excuse.

  Smiling a little boldly up at Hank, she took his hand. “I would like to go home with my grandmother now, to catch up with her. Do you mind if I leave you here for a while? I’m sure Max will show you around.”

  A muscle in his jaw clenched, and she remembered what it felt like, to rub her fingertips through his silver-speckled beard. “You going to be alright?”

  She made sure that her smile grew. “Of course. I’m home now.”

  His eyes swept over her face, and she knew that he was thinking of El Lobo, and sent him a silent thank you for not mentioning him aloud. She needed privacy to tell her grandmother everything that had happened over the last few days, and to confess that there was a gunslinger after their home.

  Seeming to understand, Hank nodded. But before she could slip away, he snaked his hand behind her neck and pulled her closer. She held her breath, wondering if he was going to kiss her here, in front of her family. But he only rubbed the ball of his thumb across her jawline, and her sigh of disappointment was swallowed by the shiver of delight his touch caused. “Be careful, honey.”

  As Abuela led her down Perrault Street with the children clamoring for her attention and the twins each trying to hold one of her hands, Rojita turned back once. Hank was staring after her, and he didn’t look pleased.