by Zina Abbott
.
.
.
.
Chapter 19
~o0o~
October 25, 1884
D iantha waited patiently behind the desk for the mail satchel to arrive. By the end of the Harvest Festival dance, word spread to everyone there that the telegram delivered to their postmaster had informed him of his brother’s death and that he left on the Monday train out of Curdy’s Crossing to return to Salt Lake City to be with family. Either Grace at the Wells Fargo office or her husband must have passed the word on to the stagecoach drivers, because that very first Wednesday after he left, she intended to pick up the mail herself. Wrapped in her warmest coat and scarf, as soon as she stepped out on the boardwalk to go for the mail, she saw the driver carrying the satchel walk towards her. He even hollered at her to stay on the boardwalk and out of the mud and slush.
Two weeks had passed, and Diantha smiled in anticipation as she heard the door open. Her mouth spread wide as she saw that it was not the driver, but a bundled-up Hank who entered the lobby. He wore a thick wool muffler around his neck and a heavy wool coat that came down below his knees. She recognized the gray derby as the hat he wore when he left Wildcat Ridge over three weeks earlier. “Welcome back, Mr. Cauley. I won’t ask if you had an enjoyable trip. My guess is, with this cold and unpredictable weather, it was eventful at the least.”
“It is good to see you, Mrs. Ames. Quite frankly, you have no idea how happy I am to be back. I’ve felt homesick for Wildcat Ridge.”
Diantha dropped her gaze. He spoke of Wildcat Ridge as home, even though he returned from Salt Lake City where he had lived many years—possibly all his life. He missed the town. She wondered if he had felt as bereaved about being away from her as much as she had felt the loss of his presence.
As Hank walked closer, Diantha studied the tightness around his eyes. His shoulders drooped with fatigue. She wanted to pull him into her arms and offer what comfort she could. However, she knew any gesture of familiarity on her part would be terribly inappropriate. After all, was it not she who set up the barrier between them by insisting that they address each other formally instead of by their given names?
Hank tossed the mail satchel on the registration counter before he set his carpetbag in the corner and piled his outer coat, muffler, and derby on top of it. He stood straight and faced her, then he averted his eyes and turned away, she felt her heart sink within her. Missing was that warm, open friendship that had developed between them as they worked together to correct and polish the manuscript he put in the mail the day he received the telegram from his father. Something had happened in Salt Lake City during the over two weeks that he had been gone. Although they would still see each other, she knew she would miss that close friendship with him she had so enjoyed.
“Do you have the key for the satchel, Mrs. Ames? I’ll sort the mail now I’ve returned.”
“Of course.” Diantha reached into her pocket and pulled out the key. “Since you have just barely arrived, I will be happy to do it this one last time so you might settle in.” She watched as he shook his head. “It is not a matter that I expect pay for each day I have been covering for you, Mr. Cauley. I am doing this as a friend.”
Diantha’s gaze feasted on Hank’s face as he turned and intently studied her face.
“I appreciate that, Mrs. Ames, I truly do. However, I do have a sense of duty to my chosen profession, although my father would argue to the contrary, since I did not stay in Salt Lake City and bend to his will. I thank you for covering for me. I will see to sorting the mail.”
“Of course.” In spite of his declaration he felt good about being home—home, Diantha hoped, included being back with her—she sensed the unsettledness, the stress that rolled off of him in waves. She stepped aside and, with a sweeping gesture of her hand, turned the area behind her registration desk over for Hank to use.
While Hank unlocked the satchel and cabinet, and then proceeded to dump the unsorted mail on the ledge in front of the sorting case, Diantha turned to face the front of the hotel. The door opened to signal the approach of the first townspeople coming to see if any mail arrived for them. Diantha noted with sadness that, although she smiled at those who entered, and she greeted them, most of them merely nodded and focused their expressions of welcome on Hank.
At the sound of customers arriving for their mail, Hank briefly acknowledged them with a smile and assured them he would have the mail sorted in a few minutes.
Diantha pasted a smile on her face. She felt happy for Hank’s sake that returning to his postmaster position brought him satisfaction. However, now that she had finished the task of helping him correct his book manuscript for his second submission and he no longer needed her help with the mail, she worried he might feel no need or desire to speak to her much at all in the future.
Diantha collected her thoughts as she realized Maggie Loftin, the owner of the boardinghouse, spoke to her.
“I see a lot of lumber stacked out in your side yard. It looks like the coal man has been fixing up your laundry shed to be sturdier. Is it true you’re letting your laundress and her mother come live in that little shack?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Diantha glimpsed Hank, a letter in his hand, hesitate before he stuffed it into the proper pigeonhole.
Hank glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I noticed that when I walked up. Looks like you have made plans for your hotel while I’ve been gone.”
Knowing her lobby bulged with curious listeners, Diantha chose her words carefully when she responded to both Maggie and Hank. “I gave Mr. Kramer permission to do some construction work to benefit Miss and Mrs. Dowd. He also intends to reinforce my laundry building. The Dowds can probably tell you more about what Mr. Kramer has planned.”
.
.
.
.
Chapter 20
~o0o~
H ank returned to an empty lobby with the crate holding the typing machine he had brought from the brickyard office. His father insisted the entire business was his. In some ways, Hank regretted the harsh words that had passed between him and his stubborn parent when he announced he did not wish to inherit the brickyard. He argued the business should go to his nephew, Louis Junior, once the boy grew old enough to take it over. In the meantime, it could be run by both the manager and financial officer who had worked there for years and had been loyal to the old man, even before his father had suffered his apoplexy. All he wanted of the business—and all he took—was the typing machine he found on his brother’s desk. He had felt no guilt doing so. The business owned others. By the time Louis Junior grew old enough to work the business, innovations would no doubt provide him a choice of better equipment.
Hank looked up with a start when a woman he did not recognize walked through the door between Diantha’s private quarters and the lobby. As soon as she caught sight of him, she marched over to study him. Hank laughed to himself at her audacity of eyeing him with suspicion considering she just walked out of Diantha’s living area as if she had the right to be there.
“You that new postmaster I done heared tell of?”
The woman sounded enough like Hilaina Dowd when she spoke that Hank began to suspect who she might be. “Yes, ma’am. My name is Hank Cauley. And to whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
“Ain’t decided if it’s no pleasure or not. Name’s Elmira Dowd. Elmira will do.”
“It definitely is a pleasure, Mrs. Dowd…uh, Elmira.”
“Humph. Don’t rightly cotton to no smooth talker.”
“I apologize. Please call me Hank. I take it you are helping Diantha with the hotel?”
“Been a trial. She plumb ain’t no good at letting me help none. Cain’t tolerate sitting around for long doing nothing. Used to having my own place and my own cookstove.”
“I thought you and Hilaina had a home—over in Miners’ Row, I believe?”
“Used to, until Mr. Crane done told us
to pack up and leave by the end of the month. Buck done moved Hilaina and me here so he can tear down them two rooms Hilaina’s pa added to the cabin. Aims to build them rooms on one end of the wash shack to share the same wall. Door will open to the wash shack stoop. Be a mite puny, but we’ll make do.”
Feeling a bad taste enter his mouth, Hank shook his head in disgust. Evicting two single women struggling to get by sounded just like something Mortimer Crane would do. What’s more, he waited until the cold weather had settled in to do it. “I have no respect for Mr. Crane as it is, and this certainly does not improve my opinion of the man. Do you know if something prompted him to evict at this particular time?”
“He ain’t got no call to turn us out, but he done it.” Elmira told the story of how Hilaina had chased Mortimer away from Diantha. “Diantha done put us up in a room like she told Hilaina last summer she would.” Elmira paused and shook her head. “I’m much obliged, only I plumb don’t take to no hotel-living.”
Hank suppressed a smile. He couldn’t help but like the woman before him. “Hopefully, then, Buck will finish your new home soon, and you can get moved in. I’m not much of a carpenter, but I’ll lend him a hand where I can. As soon as he comes in, I hope he’ll help me move this mail cabinet back into my store. I’ll offer my services to him then.”
“Be obliged. Best you open that there door to your store and let me light you a coal fire so it ain’t so airish in there. Got stew cooking on the stove, so if you ain’t partial to sleeping on ice, best you open the door to your back room. Supper’s at sundown. Best be on time.”
“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Mrs. Dowd…”
“Name’s Elmira.”
“Ah, yes. Elmira. Mrs. Ames and I made arrangements for me to cook my own food.”
“If you’re aiming to help Buck, there ain’t no call for you to see to your own vittles, not afore I got me my own home and my own cookstove.” Elmira sighed as she turned away. “Hotel’s right nice, but I need me my own place. Diantha done us right giving us the room looking out on where I can see it getting built.”
“The end of the month is only a few days away. I’m sure as long as Buck can show me what to do, we can get you settled by then.”
“Be obliged. Hate getting rid of all them pigs and chickens of mine. Last three porkers, I figured on getting them butchered to pay for wood and a new door. Don’t favor losing the sow or chickens. Don’t reckon Diantha’ll want no pigs close to the hotel, though. Raise too much of a ruckus for them folks staying here. Chickens, too.”
Hank looked away. Not to mention the smell. “You might have to give up the sow. Maybe there is someone in town who will let you move your chicken coop on their land in exchange for some of the eggs. You might check first with Jasper Jones at the livery.”
Hank watched Elmira think about it and then nod.
“I’ll study on it. I cain’t nary work something out, we’ll eat chicken for a spell. Best you show up on time for supper.”
Hank smiled and shook his head as he watched Elmira walk away. He turned to the double doors leading to his store. He could start his own coal heater and make sure his inventory was ready for customers. However, he suspected for the next week or so, except for the days the mail came, he would be leaving the store closed with a sign on the door stating it would be open by appointment only. There was no way he would permit someone like Mortimer Crane to ruin the lives of the Dowd family. He would help Buck until he finished what he set out to do. Plus, this would help pay Buck back for taking him to Curdy’s Crossing after he received that fateful telegram.
Not for the first time since his trip home, Hank shivered and felt his insides threaten to shrivel up into a knot as the memory of everything his father had demanded of him once again forced its way into his mind.
.
.
.
.
Chapter 21
~o0o~
D iantha placed the almost-empty plate of cookies back on the registration counter as the second of her two long-term renters grabbed several and started up the stairs, He had complimented her on the new variety, to which she confessed Mrs. Dowd baked this batch.
Diantha also told herself she needed to ask Elmira for the recipe, although from past experience, she knew the woman would not know the measurements. She would tell her it was a handful of this and a pinch of that. She smiled at the thought that giving Elmira the key to the outside kitchen door might have been a mistake. Elmira not only took care of emptying the chamber pots in each room and making sure the floors were swept, she insisted on doing all the cooking and baking. After meals, she and Hilaina washed the dishes. The woman hardly let Diantha into her own kitchen anymore, except to watch or visit. If Hank ever relocated his store and post office, and if Diantha ever decided to reopen the hotel restaurant, she knew exactly who she would hire to be her cook.
Diantha glanced up at her upstairs renter and once again wished him good evening. However, every cell of her being remained focused on the sounds coming through the open door to Hank’s store. There had been a steady stream of people from town who had stopped by to welcome him home once word got around the postmaster had returned. She knew no one was as happy and relieved he arrived safely back to Wildcat Ridge than she, even though the space behind the registration counter once again looked bare without the mail sorting cabinet.
Diantha snapped her attention towards the doorway to Hank’s store as she caught sight of him walking across the lobby towards her. Her heart thumped inside her breast as her gaze drank him in. She felt an excitement welling up inside her in the area surrounding her heart. She waited until he stood on the other side of her counter before she spoke. “Good evening, Mr. Cauley. I understand you will be joining us for supper.”
Diantha watched Hank roll his eyes. “So I understand. That Mrs. Dowd is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Yes. I must sneak into my own kitchen to make myself cup of tea these days. She has been a wonderful help, although I worry I am taking advantage of her talents. We have set up one of the hotel tables in a corner of my room near the kitchen. We take our meals there.”
“I look forward to it. Mrs. Ames, if you have a few moments, would you please step inside the store? I have some business to discuss with you.”
Diantha felt her smile waver, but she held it in place. He had not come to speak to her on a personal level but about business. “Of course, Mr. Cauley. I’m sure if we leave the door between the two rooms open, I will be able to hear if anyone calls out for me.” She rounded the counter and followed Hank to his store.
Hank motioned to one of two wooden restaurant chairs he had placed next to the coal heater.
“Let’s sit here, Mrs. Ames. Although the stove is putting out good heat now, the walls still have not absorbed enough to keep the room feeling warm.”
Diantha allowed him to help her be seated before he sat on the edge of his chair and, his forearms propped on his knees, leaned towards her.
“Mrs. Ames, I received a letter from the Post Office Department with a month’s payment enclosed. I plan to use it to pay my lease for this store space and my room. However, I need to cash the draft, and I don’t have a bank account set up in the region. I prefer to not use Mr. Crane’s bank across the street.”
“Wise decision, Mr. Cauley. I am willing to wait for payment.”
“I will ask Buck to take me to Curdy’s Crossing to set up an account there. However, I can give you most of what I owe you now. My family reimbursed me for my train fare to Salt Lake City and home, plus enough money to…well, that is neither here nor there. I decided not to submit to their designs for me.”
Not having enough information to know to what he referred, Diantha blinked in confusion. “I am in no hurry, Mr. Cauley. I planned to use that money to buy another load of coal from Buck. I decided I would rather have more than I need and be in a position to sell some to others who run short than to run short myself. However, since he is
busy building the new house, it will be another week before he will be free to haul freight again—that is, if the weather holds.”
“I told Buck I’d help him all I can on the house. Good I brought my leather gloves from working in the brickyard with me. I’ll be going with him tomorrow to finish dismantling those two rooms belonging to Mrs. Dowd. We’ll load them on the wagon to bring here. Friday, he’s taking me to Curdy’s Crossing for the new lumber we need. I thought I’d visit the bank then.”
“It is too bad Mr. McGinty—Rosemary’s new husband—doesn’t have his sawmill set up yet. It would save Buck a trip to Curdy’s Crossing for lumber. As for paying me, Friday will be soon enough, Mr. Cauley. Once your bank account is set up, you can use Wells Fargo to take your drafts there and transfer funds back to you. That is what I do.” Diantha paused and looked off to the side. “In fact, after that last scene with Mr. Crane—the one where you came to my rescue—I went to Crane Bank on a day I knew he was not in town. Over Mr. Humphries’ objections, I withdrew my funds and closed my account.”
“Smart decision, Mrs. Ames. I appreciate the guidance regarding my banking. I also need to pay you for handling the mail for these past weeks.”
Diantha shook her head. “No, Mr. Cauley. I offered to do it as a friend in your time of need. What I would value more, if you are willing, is your help with some of the winter maintenance on the hotel building. In spite of the roof being steep, I know Eugene used to hire men to clear the snow off when it became too heavy. I don’t mind hiring Buck to do it, but the shingles get terribly icy. I need someone on the other end of a safety rope when he’s on the roof in case he slips. Perhaps, you can repay the favor that way.”
“Be happy to. I’ll help out with other things that need to be done, too. It will benefit my store as well as your hotel business.”
