by Danni Roan
Mary Ellen stepped through the door into the warm, rustic home and followed the sounds of Quil’s mother into a cozy living space.
“I’ve put the kettle on,” Maud said looking up at her oldest daughter. “Why don’t you go put yourself together while Miss Bigsby and I get acquainted?”
“I’ll only be a minute,” Quil promised with a grin. “Please make yourself at home,” she added disappearing down a hidden hall behind a large fireplace.
“Won’t you have a seat,” Maud asked as she took the rocking chair near the fire and began to croon to the little boy in her arms. “I’m afraid you’ve come on one of those days that all mothers feel like they are losing a battle.”
Mary Ellen took a seat on the settee and looked up at the woman. “I’m so sorry I really should have had enough sense to wait.”
“Nonsense,” Maud said. “Quil needs more company. I remember when my girls were small; it was as if I didn’t exist for anything but keeping up with them and the house.”
Mary Ellen smiled trying to imagine what it would be like to stay home and care for one, two, or even three children. She’d given her years to the care of dozens, but it wasn’t really the same.
The sound of the men outside unloading the heavy crates drifted into the quiet parlor as the old rocking chair squeaked out its soothing cadence.
“You’ll have to forgive me for being so forward.” Maud said. “Harland and I just live across the way, and I try to drop in often. This used to be my house before I remarried and left it to Quil and Cam.”
Mary Ellen watched as the older woman continued to rock the baby, whose eyes were growing heavy as he chewed on his fingers.
“Did Quil get her love of writing from you as well?” Mary Ellen asked. She couldn’t imagine sitting down and bringing words to life the way that Quil did.
“Oh my no, I’m far too practical for that. Though if the truth be told, Quil is quite practical as well.” A bright smile spread across the older woman’s face like a ray of sunshine. “Quil used to keep the books for the ranch back before Cameron came to us.” She looked down at the sleeping baby and leaned close. “Do you promise not to tell a soul if I share a little secret?”
Mary Ellen nodded honored to be included in something so intimate about the family.
“When Cam came here none of us trusted him a whit. We’d had some unfortunate encounters with some less than honest men in the past. Do you know what Quil did?”
Mary Ellen shook her head breathless.
“She up and married him.”
Mary Ellen Bigsby blinked wondering what she had missed. She already knew that Aquila Adams had married Cameron Royal. Where was the revelation in that?
“She didn’t even know him yet,” Maud continued. “She insisted they were in love and for the next few months they lived separate lives in her little room before they realized they really did love each other.”
Mary Ellen turned toward the hallway her favorite author had disappeared along only moments ago. “But what it they hadn’t?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
“Exactly,” Maud said standing with the now sleeping boy in her arms. “I’m just going to pop him into his crib,” she said. “Then we’ll have a nice cup of tea and a visit. It’s wonderful to see younger woman like you out and traveling.”
Mary Ellen started. Obviously, Mrs. Dixon was older than she was, but she was no longer a young woman, and she was well aware of the fact.
As Maud disappeared down the hallway, slipping behind the large centralized fireplace, Mary Ellen gazed around her.
There were a few pictures on the smooth log walls, and the furniture was well used but also of good quality.
It was a homey space and in only a moment she felt perfectly comfortable even with the sudden knocking and banging sounds going on outside.
“I’m terribly sorry about all this,” Quil said reentering the room. Her hair was now tucked up in a neat bun at the top of her head, and she wore a clean shirtwaist with a large cameo at the neck.
“That’s quite alright,” Mary Ellen said. “I never should have agreed to come without notice. I’m afraid I rather got ahead of myself.”
“I hope you aren’t too disappointed,” Quil said with a smile. “Won’t you please come into the kitchen, and we’ll have a cup of tea. If I look pathetic enough mother will make me soup for lunch.”
Mary Ellen laughed. Meeting Aquila Adams was not going the way she had envisioned, but she was enjoying it so much more than she ever thought she would.
A few minutes later she was seated at the table sipping tea and chatting about books as if she’d known the young woman her entire life.
“I hope those men don’t wake Andrew. I know he’s been cranky lately as it is,” Maud said joining them and fixing herself a cup of tea. “He’s so precious when he’s sleeping that I couldn’t bear to leave him.”
“Now Miss Bigsby, won’t you tell us all about yourself?”
Two pleasant hours passed quickly before Mary Ellen admitted to herself that she was too tired to continue the visit.
“Do you think Mr. Bannon would mind driving me back into town?” she finally asked stifling a yawn. “I’m afraid the train trip is finally catching up with me.”
Maud and Quil looked at each other then spoke. “You mean Rock,” they said in unison breaking into laughter.
Mary Ellen grinned. “Yes, what an unusual name for a man. Do you think his parents knew he would grow up to be so large?”
Maud laughed. “There’s no telling,” she said. “He was big when he came here no more than a boy, but even then he hadn’t finished growing.”
“Let me walk you out,” Quil offered looking fresh and happy with the way the day had gone. “I’ll ask Rock if he can take you back to town. He has to return the wagon anyway.”
Chapter 6
The ride back to town seemed much shorter to Mary Ellen than the drive to the ranch, and much more uncomfortable.
“Thank you so much for your kindness Mr. Bannon,” she said as they entered the outskirts of town.
“It was my pleasure, ma’am.”
He slowed the horses to a walk waving as a young couple walked by catching Mary Ellen’s startled attention.
“Mr. Bannon, is that man an Indian?”
“Who? Francis?” Rock said with a smile. “Well yes, he is, but mostly he’s Doc Walker’s new help. Smart young man, hard working and as far as I can see smitten with Matrice,” he nodded toward the dark-skinned young woman walking next to the brave.
“I really am in the wild west aren’t I?” the little woman said.
Rock bit his lip. He didn’t want Miss Bigsby to think he was laughing at her. She wouldn’t be in Biders Clump long enough to understand just how different the tiny town at the foot of the Western Rockies really was.
“Do you have other plans while you’re here?” Rock asked. “We have a restaurant, though Miss Polly’s probably the best cook in town anyways.”
“I don’t really know that I’ve planned anything other than meeting Quil,” Mary Ellen confessed. “I do think I’d like to see the area a bit. I didn’t come all the way out here to miss anything.”
Rock chuckled as he pulled up in front of the boarding house and climbed down to help Miss Bigsby out of the rig.
This time she reached for him before he offered and he lifted her down easily setting her on the street. He was still shocked when he looked down at her. The top of her head only came to the middle of his bicep.
“Thank you again, Mr. Bannon,” Mary Ellen said tipping her head back to look up at Rock. “You’ve helped to make one of my dreams come true.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” Rock said tipping his hat and escorting her up the stairs. “You have a nice visit now,” he added then climbed back into the wagon and trotted away.
***
“Francis, who was that woman with Rock?” Matrice asked as they made their way toward the general store.
“I
don’t know,” the lean young Indian man said. “I’ve never seen her in town before.”
“Do you think she’s a relative?” Matrice pressed.
“I do not know.”
Matrice shook her head. She knew Francis wouldn’t try to guess. In the two months she had lived in Biders Clump they had seen several people come and go, simply stopping in the town until they could continue their train journey west.
“Francis did you ever wonder what might have happened if my father hadn’t found his way here when he did?”
“What do you mean?” Francis asked. He was head over heels for the young woman from the Deep South, and he had been trying to win her father’s respect ever since Noah Ratner had finally caught up with his family in the middle of a blizzard.
Matrice looked up and down the street then leaned close. “I always thought perhaps Rock was sweet on my mother.”
Francis turned startled eyes on Matrice. He’d never considered the idea. Rock had been a friend to the Ratner family. He knew that he was a kind man and always willing to help others, but could he have had feelings for Mrs. Ratner?
“But your father is here now.”
“Yes, but what if he had never arrived?” Matrice said. “I’m terribly glad he found us, but when Rock was around I felt safe, and besides he likes you.”
Francis patted her hand and smiled, before reaching for the mercantile door. “Now you are safe with me.”
“But what if Papa won’t let me stay with you Francis?” Matrice’s words caught in her throat as tears sprang to her eyes.
They were two different people, from two different worlds, and no matter how much she knew she loved the young brave, she didn’t know how society would look at them.
“We must worry about one thing at a time,” Francis said practically, taking both of her hands in his and pulling them to his chest. “If God will have it, it will be.”
Matrice smiled her dark eyes bright with hope and fear as she nodded.
Francis dashed a tear from her eye then smiled as he opened the door to the general store.
Chapter 7
Pastor Dalton looked across the street from where he was collecting Otis at the saloon and sighed.
Young Francis and Matrice had been seen in each other’s company often since the Ratners had come to town, but he feared that soon their love would be challenged.
Mr. Ratner was nearly recovered from his sojourn from the south and his ordeal in the winter storm. It was obvious the man had no intentions of staying on for good in Biders Clump.
“Dalton, what you fetchin’ me for,” a tipsy Otis said as Dalton pulled him along the street toward the Sheriff’s office. “I din’t do nothin’ wrong.”
“No, no Otis,” Pastor Dalton agreed. “I just figured you’d like a little lunch with Ferd and Sheriff Pike is all.”
“I ain’t hungry,” Otis said licking his lips. “Maybe a bit thirsty though.”
Pastor Dalton had long since given up trying to convince Otis to stop drinking, and Barry the Barkeep was good at watering the man’s drinks, but there was only so much that could be done when a grown man couldn’t control himself.
“You just wait till you get to the jail then decide if you want a bite.”
“Al’ight,” Otis drawled, shuffling along the board walk.
“Pastor,” Deputy Ferd Wooster called out as Dalton made it to the door. “Come on in Otis, and we’ll fix ya a sandwich.”
“I don’t want no sandwich,” Otis whined, stepping through the door and allowing Pastor Dalton to drop him into a chair next to a potbelly stove.
“Otis, Pastor,” A white haired Sheriff Pike greeted from his desk as he shuffled through a stack of papers. “Otis if you don’t want a sandwich what do you want?”
“I could make ya some eggs,” the younger deputy suggested handing both Otis and Pastor Dalton a cup of coffee.
“Eggs, eggs,” Otis mused. “Yes, I think I would like eggs and toast.” He agreed sipping from his mug.
“Ferd, why don’t you run over to the Mercantile, and see if Mrs. Bentley has any eggs?” Sheriff Pike asked. “Bring enough for all of us then we’ll have lunch.”
Ferd stepped out the door slapping his hat on his head of brown curls. It had been a while since he’d cooked eggs, but he knew just how Otis liked them. He never thought he would be grateful for Otis’s nagging instructions on frying eggs, but when he’d found Constance and her Abuelo sick and in need of help at their mountain farm, at least he was able to cook one thing right.
Looking both ways the lean deputy trotted across the street and stepped into the general store.
“Mornin’ Ferd,” Mrs. Bentley called as she bundled up a parcel for Francis and Matrice. “I’ll be right with you.”
“I’m just in for eggs Mrs. Bentley,” Ferd said.
“Busy day Ferd?” Francis asked picking up the package and slinging his long black hair over his shoulders.
“Nah,” Ferd drawled. “Just getting some vittles for Otis.”
“Otis needs to change his ways, or he will be sent outside the houses,” Francis spoke. “In the Valley where I come from, when a man has a problem with the fire water, they must go away and redeem themselves.”
“I’ll give it some thought,” Ferd assured as he watched Francis open the door for Matrice.
“Here’s your eggs,” Mrs. Bentley said. “We have our own chickens now behind the store, and the twins are helping to take care of them.”
Ferd smiled bemused by the woman’s harried expression.
“The boys mean well and all, but they are a bit of a handful,” she finished handing off a small basket full of eggs.
Ferd took the eggs preparing to pay but a loud crash from upstairs made Mrs. Bentley wave him away as she hurried through the curtain that separated the shop and living quarters.
Shaking his head Ferd placed his coin on the counter top and headed back to the jail.
“Ferd,” Constance called trotting down the street on a gray horse, her dark hair falling in a heavy braid over her shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Ferd hurried to his wife. “Has Abuelo wondered off again?”
“No,” Constance said pulling the horse to a stop. “I’m heading over to docs to see if I can get something that will help him rest.”
Ferd reached up laying a hand on his wife’s leg. Her grandfather, the man who had suffered demotion in the Cavalry for taking on a lost and destitute child, had been ill for several weeks now.
“What’s grandma Wooster say?” Ferd asked wondering what his paternal grandmother made of the situation. “She’s been with him all day keeping him comfortable.”
“I’m headin’ into the jail to cook some eggs,” Ferd said. “Pastor Dalton brought Otis in.”
Constance leaned down brushing her fingers along Ferd’s strong jaw. “You made eggs and beans for me and my Abuelo,” she said her dark eyes softening. “I’m very glad you brought us here when you did.”
Ferd raised up on his toes as Constance leaned down kissing him on the lips. “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he promised patting her leg as she sat up and nodded, trotting away toward Doc Walkers office.
Ferd watched Constance trot away. She was a strong competent woman with ideas and opinions of her own, but her warm heart was full of protective fire for those she loved. He couldn’t hide that he was worried about her grandfather.
Walking back into the jail house he set a frying pan on the stove while Pastor Dalton sliced bread and soon the four men had a hearty, if simple, lunch of eggs and toast.
“Everything all right?” Pastor Dalton asked as Ferd filled plates urging Otis to eat.
“Constance just came in to see Doc Walker,” Ferd said. “The Major is still feeling poorly.”
“We’ve been missing him here,” Sheriff Pike said tucking a kerchief under his chin. The white haired sheriff had taken on Major Jupiter to wrangle the mad banker who drove his horseless carriage through town at breakn
eck speed.
“At least Jasper Williams has given up that ridiculous contraption of his for a sensible horse and buggy again now that he went and married Mrs. Farrow.” Pastor Dalton said handing Otis a napkin to dab at the spot of egg on his collar.
“Never knew if you’d make it across the street with ol’ Jasper chuggin’ around the town in that beast,” Otis agreed. “He does seem happy all married up though.”
“Where’d they get off to on their honeymoon anyway?” Ferd asked.
“I believe they travelled out to Casper for a couple of weeks. I know Jasper said he wanted to be back well before his daughter Janine has the baby.” Pastor Daltons said
“That’s gonna be the most spoiltest baby to ever be born,” Ferd offered.
“Nah,” Sheriff Pike said. “Bruno will see to it that the baby learns to do things, just like he did with sweet little Janine.”
The other men nodded. They’d seen a big change in the banker’s daughter once she’d married Bruno.
Pastor Dalton chuckled. “That boy has been following Janine since they were little. I’m mighty happy he finally won her heart.”
“And got most of the bank money back at the same time,” the sheriff finished.
“Seems like things are changin’ her in Biders Clump,” Ferd mused looking out the window as his wife trotted past once more.
Chapter 8
Mary Ellen pulled her gloves on and opened the front door of the boarding house. She’d spent a lovely evening with her hosts and enjoyed her first decent sleep in days.
Today, however, she wanted to see more of the little town that had spawned a writer like Aquila Adams-Royal.
Mary Ellen smiled, shaking her head at her inability to think of Quil in any other terms then the gold embossed script scrawled across the bottom of each of her books.
Stepping out into the fresh brisk air and pulling the door closed Mary Ellen Bigsby walked across the stoop and gazed out at the town of Biders Clump.
