Winter Winds of Wyoming

by Fyffe, Caroline

  “Miss Costner. Miss Costner.”

  She glanced up.

  Mr. Ling looked her way. “You have a visitor. Ask if you come to counter.”

  In the confines of her tiny room at the back of Maude’s mercantile, Beth Fairington examined her reflection in the tiny cracked mirror on the wall. She supposed she’d have to visit Violet today. She’d waited when she’d first heard the news in hopes Violet would recover and grow stronger, so she’d be spared the humbling experience of returning to the Red Rooster and seeing the woman face-to-face, but Marlene had made it clear that was exactly what she would have to do—and apologize to boot. If not, consequences would result. Would Violet laugh and have someone toss her out once more? She blinked several times, hating her reflection that grew older year after year.

  No surprise why no man looks my way. Why would he? Common face, common eyes, and a nose resembling a fence plank—long, straight, and goes on forever. If only my nose looked more like Jessie’s. Or elegant like Tabitha’s? And look at this hair. My graying mop reminds me of a pile of straw.

  Defeated, heat pricked the back of her eyes. She chewed her lips, past the point of pain, but nothing seemed to help. They remained thin and white—just like they were now. The most unkissable mouth in Logan Meadows. Ha! Who was she kidding? The most unkissable mouth in Wyoming Territory. Probably the whole United States. She wasn’t a spinster by mistake. Overcome, her heart sank all the way to the floor. Violet was to blame for everything! If she hadn’t raised such an impulsive, hard-hearted son, then Beth would be a wife with children of her own.

  Tommy Hollyhock. The bane of her life.

  The memory of her betrothed brought a quick surge of pain. When the wedding was only a month away, he’d run off—taking her heart forever. She’d thought they were in love. That he’d come to his senses and return, but he hadn’t. Before his betrayal, she was a much different person: young, happy, optimistic. She might have badgered a little, but he hadn’t seemed to mind. And it was Tommy’s treachery that was to blame for her taking up with that horrible gambler who’d stolen her innocence and left her to the two-legged wolves in Montana Territory.

  Sagging down to the narrow cot she called a bed, she pushed at her eyes to keep the tears inside. She was totally alone. Nothing would get any better, either. She’d live out her life in solitude, grow older each year until she was as wrinkled as Violet, and eventually die and be buried on the hill.

  She tipped her head, catching a sound coming from the store. There again, she recognized the deep voice asking a question. Dalton Babcock.

  She hated to admit how much his admiration meant to her. She realized he only felt sorry for her. Thought of her as the ugly spinster with the razor-sharp tongue, like everybody else in town. But the day he’d walked her from the Red Rooster to the mercantile, she’d pretended he’d done so out of concern and a deep well of feelings lingering in his heart. She pretended he was sweet on her, and not because he was the fill-in deputy and his obligation was to look out for women and children. He was protecting her. He was…

  Burying her face in her hands, she let the tears fall. Silently, but no less painful.

  “How is she?” Adaline asked, quietly entering Violet’s bedroom. Jessie sat at the bedside where she’d been for hours, switching between swabbing the old woman’s face and reading aloud from the Bible. She looked exhausted.

  “The same,” Jessie whispered. “I wish her fever would break. She’d rest easier. Maybe gain back her strength.” She glanced over her shoulder at Adaline, deep worry lines on her forehead. “She’s been hallucinating. Seeing people that aren’t here. Her deceased husband, lost son, and Virgil, the cousin she left behind in Valley Springs. Maybe this is what happens to people preparing to die.”

  “Jessie, you need to rest or you’ll get sick as well. Let me take over for a spell, and you go lie down. Please think of yourself.”

  A knock sounded on the heavy front door.

  Since Marlene was at the laundry house and almost everyone in town had visited yesterday, Adaline couldn’t imagine who might be calling now. She hurried to the door before whoever was there had a chance to knock again and possibly disturb Violet.

  At the sight of Dalton, heat flooded her face, and everything she’d said, all her words of love, came rushing back. She’d tried to forget, but a moment didn’t go by that she wasn’t playing the humiliating scene over and over in her mind. She’d ruined their dearly cherished friendship. Of course, Dalton didn’t love her. He loved Susanna… and always would.

  Chapter Forty

  Dalton clutched his hat in his hands, feeling like a wet-nosed kid. He tried to ignore Adaline’s pretty eyes as they searched his face. She was still hurting, he could easily see. He never wanted to hurt her, but he had no other option. She needed someone steady, someone with a good-paying job. Someone younger. Not him. Jake’s angry words were always in his head.

  “I’ve come to check on Violet,” he said, the cold wind biting at his back. “She’s all I’ve thought about since she took sick.” Liar! Words of love have been rolling around in my head since they passed your lips. The moment stretched out. He wasn’t sure if she’d let him inside. He glanced past her to the quiet room. “May I come in?”

  She stepped back. “I’m sorry. Of course, you can. Keep in mind, you might get sick.”

  He entered, aware of their close proximity. The five days since he’d been so bold as to hold her in his embrace felt like yesterday. His lips tingled at the thought of his kiss to her forehead. Her three little words, spoken aloud, had the power to change the course of history. “I haven’t yet, and we both were with her at the Lings’—I think I’ll be fine.” He looked her over. “You’re fine, aren’t you? Not feeling sick or anything?”

  Adaline nodded but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine. It’s Violet I’m worried about. Her fever is coming down but lingers. Jessie’s been with her since she took ill, staying in one of the extra rooms. She knows more about Violet’s home remedies than anyone else. Violet looked after Jessie for years when they both lived back in Valley Springs. They’re like family.”

  Dalton nodded, discerning her pensive mood. “I’m glad you have help nursing her.” I wanted to come sooner, to make sure of that, but thought better.

  Adaline glanced nervously around the room. “I’ll make you a cup of tea to warm you. Your face looks a little blue.” She turned to go but stopped as he removed his coat and hat and hung them on the coatrack. “I hope you won’t let the things I said the other night come between us. I was tired and”—she swallowed—“silly. Overwhelmed with the situation.”

  “’Course, you were. Who wouldn’t be with what you were going through? I’d like that—the tea, I mean. And I’m glad you were brave enough to clear the air between us. I agree. I don’t think either of us will ever forget the night Ying Ling was born. At least, I won’t.” He tried to chuckle, but the sound was flat. “I don’t think I’ve made up for my sleep yet.” Feeling awkward for going on and on, he cleared his throat. “Anyway, I don’t want to lose your friendship either, Adaline, especially over a silly comment.” He forced a smile as her gaze searched his face and then glanced down the hall. “Do you think I might look in on Violet?” He didn’t like this skittishness between them.

  “Of course. Jessie won’t mind. The Red Rooster was filled with well-wishers yesterday, but today has been quiet. You go, and I’ll put the kettle on the stove.”

  She smiled prettily, almost breaking Dalton’s heart.

  “When you’re finished, your tea will be brewed. Violet’s room is the last door on the right.”

  Dalton proceeded down the darkened hallway and tapped softly.

  Jessie opened the door. “Dalton.”

  “Mind if I come in?”

  “Not at all. Violet would be touched if she knew you were here. Maybe your presence will rouse her. I keep hoping something will spark her spirit into recovery. She’s bee
n in and out of her mind, talking about people and events from her past.” She tilted up her chin. “I’m just not ready to lose her yet. Not ready at all…”

  He gazed down at Violet, her bony shoulders, knees, and toes made small peaks in the light bed covering.

  Jessie reached down and felt her forehead. “Thank God, she’s cool. She wakes up now and then but doesn’t really know where she is.” She looked up into Dalton’s face. “I’m scared. I’m sure she’s over the worst of whatever she had, but this behavior is something totally different. She keeps saying she’s old and tired and wants to die. I don’t think she’s far from eternity now.”

  Violet mumbled and opened her eyes.

  Jessie reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. “I’m glad you’re awake. Time you had some water.” She lifted Violet’s head and shoulders.

  She turned her head away. “Don’t ya listen, girl? I don’t want nothin’. Jist let me go. Let me die… Yer only prolonging my misery. I’m supposed to die a’fore Christmas, and that’s what I intend ta do.”

  Jessie replaced the untouched water on the nightstand and took a step back. “That’s all she ever says,” she whispered. “She’s killing herself by rejecting food and water. In her condition, she won’t last long.” She looked down at Violet. “Why are you supposed to die before Christmas, Violet?” she asked softly. “Please explain.”

  Violet turned back, since the threat of having to take water was gone. “Don’t ya know nothin’? One was born, so one needs ta die. I’m the oldest in this here town, and I’m worn out. I’ve got nothin’ ta live for. I’m tired, cranky, and old as sin. I look forward to my eternal rest, Jessie girl.” Her tone softened, and she slowly reached for Jessie’s hand. “Don’t be angry with me fir that.”

  “Willing yourself away is not a kind way to treat all the people who love you. Think of Jake and me, Sarah, Marlene. The whole town.”

  The last word came out on a half-choked, pain-filled sob. Dalton had never seen Mrs. Logan when she wasn’t calm, collected, and in control. Even during the train crash at Three Pines Turn, she’d remained unruffled, corralled the children, and kept them safe so their parents could help the injured passengers. Not knowing how to comfort her, Dalton said the first thing entering his mind. “A while back,” he whispered, “Violet asked me to discover the identity of the do-gooder. I haven’t made much progress. I’d like to fulfill her wish before…” Jessie turned and stared at him with such an expression of surprise he wondered if she was the person he was looking for.

  “What did you just say?”

  “Violet came to me the night of the Christmas tree celebration. She hired me to do some digging. Try to find out who’s responsible for all the anonymous good deeds.”

  Jessie tipped her head. “But why? The do-gooder clearly doesn’t want to be identified.”

  “That’s exactly what I told her, at first. But she’s adamant. Nothing I said would change her mind. She wants to thank the person before she dies. I hope I can make her wish a reality.”

  Jessie turned to gaze at her dear friend once more. “Well, knowing Violet, that makes perfect sense. Having any luck?” She lifted an inquisitive brow.

  “That’s the problem. I have no way of finding any clues unless I catch the person in the act—and after all this time, I don’t think that’ll happen. Or I can just ask him or her straight out. Jessie, are you the do-gooder?”

  A flash of amusement crossed her face. “Me?” She laughed quietly. “Sorry, Dalton, I’m not the do-gooder. Although, I wish I could say I was.”

  He studied her face in the shadowy room wondering if he could believe her.

  “I promise, I’m not.”

  By hooky. Judging her first reaction, he’d thought he might have hit the jackpot his very first try. He rocked back on his heels, considering the best way of spreading the word of what he wanted. With Violet being sick, time was of the essence. “I’m disappointed. I thought you just might be her. Can you discreetly ask around?” He glanced at Violet again. “I don’t know how much time I’ve left to fulfill Violet’s wish.”

  The door creaked and a stream of light illuminated the darkened room.

  He turned.

  “Tea is ready,” Adaline whispered from the doorway. “And I’m steeping you a cup as well, Jessie. I’ll bring it directly.”

  “Thank you,” Jessie replied, and then touched Dalton’s arm. “It’s kind what you’re doing for Violet. I’ll do what I can to help.”

  That was all he could ask. Someway, somehow, he needed to fulfill Violet’s request.

  Chapter Forty-One

  A few minutes before noon, and after a frigid walk out to the Red Rooster, Beth, half-frozen, stared at the door in front of her face. The wind had picked up again, and snow and sleet whipped around, making each step deplorable. She should have waited one more day. Violet wasn’t going to die. The woman was too stubborn to die. Beth shivered, tugging her worn, out-of-date coat firmly around her shoulders. Her nose stung, and all ten fingers, although she wore gloves, prickled painfully. Why was she being a pushover? She no more wanted to see Violet again than jump naked into a freezing river. In all likelihood, the moment the old woman laid eyes on her, she’d throw her out a second time.

  I must have lost my mind!

  Marlene had been quite clear: come see Violet at once, before seeing her is no longer an option. Still, Beth hadn’t gone. The embarrassing tongue-lashing Beth had endured the first time in front of Dalton, Marlene, and Adaline was bad enough. What if Violet took up where she’d left off? Or worse, wanted to talk through every last trespass Violet imagined Beth had committed over the years? Clear the air, so to speak. And if Marlene was home, Beth would be forced to sit quietly and take each insult Violet dished out—with no chance at rebuttal.

  As if in reply to her agitated thoughts, the wind suddenly howled with a vengeance, bringing a smattering of sound on the porch roof.

  An unsettling feeling gripped her insides, like something was about to happen. Something important—something unusual and unexpected.

  The wind blasted again sending an icy chill of snow down her back. Frozen with indecision, she wanted to curse. Over a matter of minutes, the storm had intensified. She should have waited until tomorrow for this mission of mercy or come earlier in the day. If a storm rolled in now, departing the inn might not be possible. Thinking better, she almost smiled. Maybe being snowed in wouldn’t be all that bad. She’d welcome a few nights in her old bed. The mattress was much more comfortable than the cot at the mercantile.

  Raising her hand to knock, she stopped midair. A vision of a sick Violet, swallowed up by her mattress, came to mind. What if the woman had something extremely contagious? Beth didn’t want to catch what Violet had and die herself. She wasn’t getting any younger. A winter month didn’t go by without her getting a sniffle. She needed to be careful.

  With her mind firmly made up, Beth turned on her heel and started back for Logan Meadows. Marlene could soak her head in a bucket of vinegar for all she cared. Beth might be hardhearted, but at least she was alive. Violet should have considered the possibilities before kicking her out. The season of forgiveness wasn’t making Beth do anything she didn’t want to.

  Gripping the handrail, she made her way carefully down the icy steps, being cautious not to make any noise. She’d not like to be spotted now, since she’d decided to retreat. She once again took in the empty yard. People weren’t beating down Violet’s door to say goodbye today.

  Returning to Logan Meadows, Beth ducked her face under her arm for protection from the stinging sleet and snow. When she straightened, she spotted a wagon at the bend of the road, moving in the direction toward her. Still too far away in the swirling white, she couldn’t see the driver. Irritation at having been caught crackled inside. Couldn’t be Marlene, unless she’d been offered somebody’s rig. Who then? Jake? Mr. Logan? Dalton? The possibilities were endless.

 
No, the man’s silhouette against the white wasn’t anyone she recognized. Wary, she glanced behind at the inn and wondered if the wagon was headed there or continuing on the road to New Meringue. That’d be foolish in this weather.

  “Whoa,” the fella called in a deep voice when he was alongside. He pulled back on the long, leather lines and the wagon rocked to a halt.

  He was a large man, bundled warmly, hat pulled down tight. A thick scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face protected his skin from the sleet and was tucked into his coat. She wished she’d had the foresight to have worn a scarf herself.

  The horses, their manes and fetlocks covered in snow, puffed steam from their nostrils.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Should you be out in this weather?”

  Nosy. She didn’t answer.

  He cleared his throat. “Would that be the Red Rooster Inn up ahead? I’m new to Logan Meadows and don’t want to venture farther than I have to in this storm.”

  All but frozen through and through now, Beth could only think about the hot stove she’d left burning in the mercantile and how good the warmth would feel once she got home. With no time for chitchat, she drew up straight. She hitched her head at the inn. “That’s what the sign says.” Once finished, she gripped her chattering teeth so as not to make a fool of herself.

  He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You’re right. Seeing is a mite difficult in the sleet.”

  “Of course, I’m right. I’m always right.” She wanted to be off, but the man stared so long she began to get twitchy.

  “Beth? Is that you?”

  At the sound of her name, she gaped at the man’s half-covered face. As recognition dawned, blackness descended over the swirling white. She crumpled to the ground.