“Thank you for your business, Dr. Boyd.” Though somewhat uncertain of the new doctor, Colton had to admit she was a formidable presence. He paused at the doorway and reached for his hat. “I wish you well with your practice.”
“I’ll need the encouragement. People can be very closed-minded.” She extended the tin she’d retrieved earlier. “Don’t forget your salve.”
Colton accepted her offering. “You might try a less forthright approach.”
“I am a doctor. If people are only comforted by empty platitudes, they may fail to hear my message.”
“Suit yourself.” He might as well try the concoction. He glanced at the scars covering his hands. Did women find those scars repulsive? Was that why Dr. Boyd had offered him the ointment? Best not to dwell on the subject. “Good day, Dr. Boyd.”
“Good day, Mr. Werner.”
Colton stood on the slatted boardwalk for several minutes, lost in thought until someone brushed past him, pulling him from his reverie. He paused before the livery and set his bag inside the door. When he returned outside, Gus and Old Horace, the two town gossips, appeared behind him.
Old Horace was in his seventies, and his long gray hair hung down his back. Gus Russell had a white beard and loose jowls that shook when he laughed. The two of them sat on a bench outside the mercantile on sunny days—except for in warm weather, when they busied themselves by playing horseshoes. Together they kept track of all the comings and goings of the Cowboy Creek residents. Though they spent endless hours rehashing age-old arguments, their friendship was obvious.
Colton passed the saddle shop and admired the elaborate stitching on a saddle in the window. When he glanced behind him, he noted Walter Frye, his assistant at the livery, had joined Gus and Horace. A few steps later he passed Aunt Mae’s boardinghouse, and a movement caught the corner of his eye. Aunt Mae, a short round woman with an easy smile, shuffled down the stairs and joined the three men trailing behind him.
Colton groaned. Yep. Word had sure gotten around town about the events of the previous week. He might as well give them something more to gossip about.
By the time he crossed the street, a parade of people had formed behind him. Keeping his gaze fixed forward, he ignored the gathering crowd. Upon reaching the town clerk’s office, he pushed open the door and winced at the loud clang of the overhead bell.
The crowd followed him inside, jostling and muttering for a better view of the proceedings. Mr. Howe, a banker, had clearly leaped from his work behind the counter. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and he still sported his visor and sleeve protectors.
If Colton delayed the inevitable any longer, he’d have the entire town crowded into the small space. He skirted past the horseshoe of chairs surrounding the pot-bellied stove and leaned over the counter. The door to the back room was closed, and he rang the bell on the desk since the alert from the front door hadn’t summoned assistance.
A short, thin man in his late fifties wearing a dark suit and polishing a pair of spectacles stepped into the room. Colton recognized him as Gerald “Cookie” Kuckelman, the county clerk. According to the newspapers, Cowboy Creek was growing fast enough they’d soon need a deputy clerk, as well.
Cookie set his glances on his nose and glanced up, his magnified eyes growing even wider at the sight of such a large crowd. “May I help...one of you?”
Nothing annoyed Colton more than being the center of attention, but there was no escaping the inevitable.
He’d made a vow before God to a certain dark-haired beauty with eyes the color of molasses. If he couldn’t have happiness himself, maybe he could bring a modicum of happiness to someone else.
Colton braced his hands on the counter, and the crowd behind him hushed, waiting to hear what he would say.
“I need to file for a marriage license.”
Chapter Five
In the second week following her traumatic arrival in Cowboy Creek, Beatrix found her strength slowly returning. She’d managed to sit up by herself that morning, a vast improvement from the days before. The doctor had warned her that it might be a while before she could walk on her own, and she’d accepted that she must rest and recuperate.
They’d settled Joseph into a bassinet beside her bed, where he slept soundly.
The clock on her bedside table ticked, and she plucked at a loose thread on the counterpane. Breakfast had come and gone, and soon there’d be a lunch tray.
There’d been no sign of Colton. He’d promised to come this morning.
As reality settled in with each passing minute, she slumped against the pillow. The more time passed, the more she feared she’d frightened him off with her bold offer. She’d botched her future yet again. Perhaps if she’d waited a few days and let him warm to the idea, he might have come around.
It was too late now. Of course he’d bolted from the albatross of an instant wife and child. She’d meant to present their union as a partnership, but she’d gone about her explanations all wrong, and she’d lost her chance.
Leah had advised her to sleep when the baby slept, but her thoughts were too disarrayed for rest. She needed to discover another solution. She was alone, and she had a child to care for with no ways and means of her own.
She glanced at the large case in the corner. She’d sell her armonica. The last thing she owned of any value. The instrument had been passed down to her from her grandfather, and she’d carefully accompanied the glass pieces along land and ocean. The money from the sale would buy her some time. Though her heart ached at the loss, grandfather must understand her choice. She’d need the money to build a life for herself and for Joseph. While the money wouldn’t last forever, she was certain something would come up. There were more opportunities for women in America than in Austria, and she’d always been resourceful.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.
“Come in,” she called, eager for the lunch tray.
She hadn’t been able to eat much yesterday, and today she was famished. Though it went against her nature to be waited upon, there was little other choice. She’d find a way to repay the doctor and Leah for all their nursing when she’d finished convalescing.
She turned to find Colton filling the doorway. A rush of emotion stole her breath. He wore a somber gray suit with a crisp white shirt and black string tie. In one hand he held his hat. In the other, a small, wrapped box. The corner of his mouth quirked into a sardonic smile, and he gestured toward the clock.
“Guten Morgen,” he said in German. “Have you changed your mind yet?”
To her complete and utter horror, Beatrix burst into tears.
The color immediately leeched from Colton’s face, and he was at her side in an instant.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded, his voice charmingly gruff. “What did I do?”
“N-nothing,” she hiccupped. “You wore a suit.”
The bed dipped beneath his weight, and he cupped the back of her head with his enormous hand. “Don’t cry. I can’t stand a woman’s tears.”
She bit her lip, but the tears leaked out. “I’ll s-stop. Just give me a m-moment.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she crushed her face against the rough wool of his suit until she’d collected herself enough to sit back and look at him. Her senses filled with the details of his appearance. The smoothly shaved chin and his neatly trimmed hair. He’d made an effort for her.
She caught the faint hint of cologne and choked back another sob. “You’re late.”
What a foolish thing to say, but she couldn’t think of anything else.
He ran the backs of his neatly clipped nails along his smooth cheek. “I had to stop at the barber. It’s not every day a man gives a woman a ring.”
“You l-look very nice.”
He l
ooked charming, dashing, handsome, and she was a complete and utter mess of tangled hair and tears. This hadn’t gone at all as she’d planned. Having a baby had released the floodgates of her emotions, and she couldn’t stem the tide.
He released his hold and stepped away. “I’ll come again. Later. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She swiped at her face with the heels of her hands. If she didn’t get a hold of herself, he’d be fleeing into the streets fearing he’d married a madwoman. “You didn’t upset me. I’m happy.”
“If this is happy, I don’t ever want to see you sad.”
His quip earned a watery smile, and she fought her traitorous emotions. “Thank you. For coming.”
“You’re welcome.” He set the wrapped box on the table. “That’s for you.”
In an instant, she sensed his ambivalence, his hesitation. A shuttered expression came over his face. She couldn’t force him into something he didn’t want, yet she sensed their union was for the best. How could anything that felt this right be wrong to hope for? She forced back her tears and plucked the strings from the box.
A simple gold ring nestled inside, tied to the velvet backing with a blue satin ribbon.
“It’s lovely.”
She slid the ring on her finger, where the gold circled loosely over her knuckle.
“The ring is too large,” he said, reaching for the box. “I can have it sized.”
“I’ll keep it.” She tucked away her hand. “It’s perfect. Danke schön.”
She had an unnatural fear that if he took the ring back, she’d never see him again. The idea was ridiculous, but she couldn’t manage to push it away. Taking a deep, tremulous breath, she covered the ring with her opposite hand. She’d thrust herself into a foreign country, and she barely comprehended the language. If she was feeling a little shaken and fragile, she’d soon recover her wits.
Colton leaned over the bassinet and peered at Joseph. “How is he today?”
“Doing well. Would you like to hold him?”
“I have a short break.” He gathered Joseph into his arms. “Then it’s back to work. I, uh, I started the paperwork with the town clerk. We need a marriage license filed with the county. I’ll send over the paperwork this afternoon. Let me know if you have any trouble filling out the form. Everything is all legal and set.”
“Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you.”
She hadn’t even thought about a marriage license. At least Colton had remedied the oversight.
Minutes later, as she watched him leave, a warm, wistful ache settled in her chest. She crossed to the window and followed his progress on the street below. As though sensing her scrutiny, he tipped back his head and smiled. She pressed her palm against the chill window in return. She must be very careful with her heart around the blacksmith. She’d lost herself once to a man who didn’t return her affections, and once was enough.
* * *
Colton ran his hands down the horse’s fetlock until the animal bent the joint. He cradled the hoof in his lap. Using his buffer iron, he bent each of the clinches outward, loosening the metal. He pulled the old nails free with his pincers, then worked the horseshoe loose, starting with the heel.
The horse snuffled, and he muttered soothing words. By now he knew the personality of almost each and every horse in Cowboy Creek. Though Walter Fry, who oversaw the livery, was slowly taking over more and more of the farrier jobs, freeing Colton for other forms of metalwork, he still enjoyed the simple satisfaction of working with animals.
The door to the livery opened, and Colton glanced up.
“Will,” he called out his friend’s name. “I didn’t expect you this soon. I’m not finished.”
“Take your time,” Will replied. “I had to escape the house.”
Will Canfield had been Colton’s commander the final two years of the war. He was tall and distinguished with dark hair and eyes. He always dressed impeccably and carried a silver-tipped cane in deference to a war wound he’d suffered. During those battle-hardened days, Colton had come to admire the man’s intelligence and integrity. When Will had approached him to serve as blacksmith in Cowboy Creek, Colton had been more than eager to comply.
He pulled the metal shoe free, released the horse and stepped back a pace. “Since you married, Will, I’ve never known you to escape your home for any reason.”
“Tomasina is nesting, and she’s driving me mad.”
Tomasina, Will’s wife, was a local legend. She’d arrived in town with a cattle drive, and ran the local rodeo and sharpshooting contests. Petite and pretty with fiery red hair, the free-spirited cowgirl known as Texas Tom had seemed as different as possible from the urbane, refined Will, who everyone expected to run for governor one day. And yet Will had fallen hard for his wife. They were expecting a baby soon.
“You’re lying,” Colton said.
Will was looking out for him. Old habits died hard.
“You could always tell when I was lying.” Will chuckled. “I thought you might want to talk.”
“Not particularly.”
“Your choice.” Will hitched his trousers over his knees and sat on a nearby hay bale. He stretched his legs before him and rested his cane by his side. “Cold weather we’re having.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
Will rubbed his leg where a piece of shrapnel remained lodged. “We’re in for more snow. The old wound is aching.”
“Maybe.”
Pushing off, Will limped toward his horse. Colton raised his eyebrows. Will rarely let anyone see him walk without his cane. A town leader, he took great pride in his reputation and appearance. His friend ran his hand along the roan’s haunches.
“I never got used to losing the horses during the war,” Will said. “When the wounded were cleared after the battle, and the horses remained, I’d sit and weep in solitude for them. The grieving seemed easier, more manageable that way.”
“I never knew.”
“Funny, isn’t it? You serve with a man, and you think you know everything there is to know about him. You know how he rolls his socks in neat little balls and stuffs them in the bottom of his rucksack. You know you can’t say two words to him before he’s had his first cup of coffee in the morning. You know about the time he and his brother stole apples from the neighbor next door. You know he learned German from his grandparents and that he doesn’t like parsnips. You think you know everything about a man after serving with him in battle, but you never know how he grieves.”
Colton rested the horseshoe on his gavel and pounded out the edges. “I never could tolerate parsnips.”
“You should be prepared. The ladies in town are putting together an archive of the soldiers who served in the war. The project is for a one-hundred-year time capsule. They’ll want to talk with you.”
“Why would anyone want to do a fool thing like writing about the war?”
“The new editor of the newspaper, Sam Mason, was a soldier, too, and he wrote a book about the war. He even had a journal about his experiences in the newspaper.” Will shrugged. “People are interested for history, I suppose. Sam’s success is what inspired the ladies. They want something that’s specific to the town. For the children and grandchildren of Cowboy Creek.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Oh, come now. Tell me you weren’t riveted by the passages about the American Revolution during history class.”
Colton heaved a breath. “War is nothing like it says in the books.”
“No. Nothing ever is, I suppose.” Will limped back to his hay bale. “You were one of my bravest men.” He extended his thumb. “You gave me a callus pinning all those medals on your uniform.”
“I did what I was told. You were a good commander.”
“I was only ever as good as men I led. And they alwa
ys gave me everything I asked for and more. Sometimes I wondered what you were atoning for.”
Colton straightened. He wasn’t getting roped into this conversation. “You should probably be getting home. What with Tomasina expecting and all.”
“You always volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, yet you hated the recognition. You never wore your medals. A man has to wonder. Why would someone put himself in harm’s way, over and over again, and not care a whit for the glory?”
“You’d have to ask that man.”
“I am asking that man.”
Colton pressed hands into the small of his back and arched his cramped muscles. “I married Beatrix because she needed to know someone was looking out for the baby. None of us thought she’d live til morning. Now she wants to stay married. I honor my vows.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s what you wanted to know.”
“I already know why you married her. You’ve always been the one to sacrifice.”
A scorch of anger surprised Colton. “Why does everyone see this marriage as some great sacrifice? Any man would be fortunate to have Beatrix as a wife. And the baby, Joseph, he’s a wonder.”
“Don’t get your back up.” Will rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands before him. “After word got around about what happened, Tomasina was asking about you. She got me thinking. What do I know about you? I know your brother died. I know you went to live with your grandparents after that. I know both of your parents have passed away.”
“That sums up my life.”
His terse answer drew a dry chuckle. “We’re friends, Colton. I had to ask. I had to try.”
Colton stared at the horseshoe in his hand. What did hiding matter anymore? He and Will had shared more together than most men. They’d seen enough blood and death together to bind them for life. They shared a bond unique to a select group of soldiers.
“Joseph and I were twins,” Colton began. “He was younger than me by a minute, but I always looked up to him. He was everything I wasn’t—adventurous and fearless. He was smaller than me, and the other kids picked on him sometimes. But not when I was around.”
Cowboy Creek Christmas Page 17