Trailblazer

by Anna Schmidt

  “You want to pack Jim up and take him back to New Mexico,” she said. “That’s the gist of it.”

  “And you. The two of you would come. Dr. Rove agrees the drier and warmer weather there might just be the cure Mr. Rogers needs. It wouldn’t be forever, just time enough for him to regain his strength. Grace will be there,” he added, hoping to turn the tide with that reminder.

  “And who would be here, young man? Who would run this place?”

  “Reuben and Walt are running it now,” he said gently. “Have been for all the time your husband has been ill. Angie would stay to cook for them and care for the twins.”

  She chewed her lip, gazing at him with suspicion. “And you have a place there?”

  He thought about the anteroom where he’d planned to live with Grace and the baby. Could they make it work for Grace’s parents as well? Especially when her father might be bedridden for some time?

  When he hesitated, Mrs. Rogers snorted and turned her sharp eyes to the fire. “You haven’t thought this through, have you? Never mind where we’d live, what about the train fare? We’ve living hand to mouth here, in case you didn’t notice. I told Grace to stop sending money, because with Jim down, it won’t make a difference. Come spring, maybe it will be a good year for the corn and wheat and all, but farming is a gamble. You bet against the weather.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Ranching’s like that too.” He was grasping at anything that might give them a connection. “And I have the money for the train fare.”

  She shot him a look. “We don’t take charity.”

  “I’m family now, Mrs. Rogers. Me paying for the tickets is no different from Grace sending money. But if you’re not comfortable with the idea of that, we can consider it a loan.”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “It won’t work. Jim’s far too ill to be moved.”

  Nick decided he had no choice but to play his trump card. “There’s something Grace hasn’t told you—that she asked me not to tell you,” he said. “She doesn’t want to add to your worries, but the truth is your daughter needs you and her father.”

  Mrs. Rogers sat forward, the shawl slipping unnoticed from her bony shoulders. “The baby?”

  “No. Far as I know, that’s all fine.” He took hold of the older woman’s hands. “Grace has been accused of killing the man who assaulted her. And she’s about to go on trial.” Nick told her the rest of the story then, leaving no detail out, and when he was finished, he waited for her reaction.

  “I knew her going to work for that outfit was a mistake,” she muttered as if talking to herself. “She could always get around her father, so we let her go, and now this.” She looked at him as if suddenly realizing something. “This is why she couldn’t come. It wasn’t the baby. It was this?”

  Nick nodded but said nothing. He wanted to give her the time she needed to digest what he’d told her and come to some conclusion.

  “And Dr. Rove agrees Jim is up to the travel?”

  “No guarantee, but he believes it’s worth a try. He told me he has nothing more he can offer.”

  She studied her clasped fingers. “He’s been telling me for ages now that it’s just a matter of time.” Tears filled her eyes. She pulled her hands free of Nick’s hold and swiped the wetness away, then stood and let out a long breath of resignation. “I’ll talk to Jim about it,” she said. “For now, you should get some sleep. I can offer the chair here or the barn. Otherwise, I’m afraid we’re full up.”

  Nick smiled. “No room in the inn,” he said and saw the spark of humor light his mother-in-law’s eyes.

  A half smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Something like that. Good night, Nick.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Rogers.”

  She hesitated before leaving the room. “Maybe in light of circumstances, you might call me something like Ma Rogers?”

  He tried it on. “Ma Rogers. Sounds good to me.” He had an urge to kiss her weathered cheek but knew instinctively that would be going too far. “I’ll stay here for the night,” he added, indicating the chair. “If you need anything at all, let me know.”

  She nodded and walked away.

  He slept more soundly than he would have thought possible. He woke only when the two older boys came down from the loft before dawn and started donning their coats, hats, and gloves before heading out to do morning chores. Nick made sure the fire in the kitchen was going, put on his coat and hat, stopped by the outhouse, and then headed for the barn. He and the boys worked mostly in silence, milking the cows, pitching fresh hay, breaking the ice that covered the trough, and gathering eggs from the coop.

  “Thanks,” Reuben muttered as the three of them headed back to the house, their shoulders hunched against the cold. Inside, the smells of biscuits baking and bacon frying hit them right along with the warmth of the fire. Angie and her mother were working in the kitchen, dressed in calico dresses similar to the one Grace had worn that day they’d gone on the hayride. The younger children were already seated at the table.

  “Smells mighty good,” Nick said as he stamped the snow from his boots and hung his coat and hat on a peg near the back door.

  “Jim would like to see you,” Ma Rogers said.

  A flicker of hope flashed through Nick’s chest. “Now?”

  She nodded and turned the bacon without looking at him, but both Reuben and Angie glanced from their mother to him and back again, their curiosity held in silence.

  Nick knocked lightly before turning the knob to the sickroom door. As before, Jim Rogers was reclined against a stack of pillows. “Come in, son,” he said. “Let’s figure out this grand adventure you and my wife have come up with.”

  Chapter 17

  Grace decided to bide her time, waiting for Polly’s shift at the lunch counter to end so she could catch her alone and question her. Polly had a reputation for knowing all the gossip, although she herself rarely spread any rumors. If Polly was unwilling to tell the judge her story, at least she would know who among the girls—maybe some who were still in the area—had caught the banker’s fancy.

  Finally, the last customer paid his check and left, and Polly immediately began the cleaning—the part of their work few customers ever saw or thought about. She was polishing one of the coffee urns when Grace walked to the counter. “Could I help?”

  Polly hesitated, then shrugged. “Suit yourself. As long as you don’t expect me to share my tips.”

  “No. Just restless. I’ve been cooped up now for what seems like weeks.” She found a clean cloth and began polishing the second urn. “I should never have gone to see Mrs. Perkins,” she admitted.

  “That was dumb,” Polly agreed.

  “Yes, it was.”

  Polly glanced at her. “Are you scared, Grace?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I guess I never thought you’d be accused. Of course, it makes sense. The only way that woman could get through life was to pretend it was the girls, not her husband.”

  Grace’s ears perked up. So Polly knew how Perkins’s wife rationalized his behavior. “Like I said, she suggested there had been other incidents.”

  Polly paused in her polishing but did not look at Grace. “I wouldn’t know. Firsthand, I mean. There are always rumors. Juniper is a small town, and people talk and all.” Her cheeks had flushed to a mottled red, and her hands were shaking.

  Grace was sure Polly was lying. Challenging that was a long shot—or maybe not. Maybe Polly would be relieved to finally tell someone. And who better to tell than the woman who had come close to being raped by that monster? She stepped closer and put her hand on Polly’s shoulder. “Polly, did he ever…I mean, were you someone he—”

  “You should go,” Polly whispered. “I don’t know why you’re here, and if Miss K catches you…me…”

  Grace hesitated. Polly was trembling, and Grace was sure it wasn�
��t Bonnie Kaufmann she feared. “Tell me what happened, Polly.”

  “No! You want me to risk my reputation to save yours. Well, we aren’t friends, Grace. We never were. Coworkers. Rivals for Nick’s affections, but never friends. So please just leave me out of this. You’ll be all right. Your kind always are.” And with that, she dropped her cloth and fled to the kitchen.

  Grace watched her go. Even knowing Polly had feelings for Nick, she had hoped that in time, they might find a way to get along. After all, Jake had unrequited feelings for Lily, and they were the best of friends. But in a way, she understood Polly’s ill will toward her. If the shoe had been on the other foot and Nick had chosen Polly, would she be so quick to set aside her disappointment and bitterness?

  She finished polishing the two urns. She wiped the counters and made sure everything was in its proper place, ready for tomorrow’s onslaught. It occurred to her that she had performed these tasks that had become such a part of her routine for the last time. She walked to the window and lifted the edge of the lace curtain.

  Outside, people were going about their business. Frank Tucker had paused while sweeping the boardwalk in front of his store, leaning on the broom to pass the time with two railroad workers. And Cody Daniels was striding across the plaza, headed straight for the hotel. The way he was moving looked like he had some news he was intent on delivering, and her heart quickened. Perhaps her visit with Mrs. Perkins had not been a mistake after all.

  She heard his deep voice addressing a question to Aidan and the bellboy, Tommy, volunteering, “She’s in there.”

  Grace opened the door that led to the lobby. “Are you looking for me, Sheriff?”

  “Are you trying to get yourself hanged, Mrs. Hopkins? Because if you’re not, then why in the world would you call on the widow?” He kept his voice low, but his demeanor attracted stares from guests passing through the lobby.

  “Has something happened?” Aidan stepped away from the front desk and approached them.

  “It’s all right, Aidan,” Grace said, knowing from the look on the sheriff’s face that it was a lie.

  “Grace Hopkins, please come with me,” he said as he took her elbow and guided her across the lobby, out the door, past the railway station, across the plaza, and directly into his office. Without releasing her, he opened the door to one of three small cells and indicated she should enter.

  “But—”

  “Mrs. Perkins has questioned why someone accused of shooting her husband in cold blood is free to walk around town. Judge Evans agreed. He insists you be locked up.” He closed the cell door and turned the key, and then he seemed to finally drop his official attitude. He looked down at his boots and then away toward the window across from his desk. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can ask Bonnie Kaufmann to get for you?”

  “I’m fine,” she replied softly.

  “The judge will hear your case the day after tomorrow,” he said. “You might want to think more about getting yourself a lawyer.”

  “I’m innocent, Sheriff.”

  He turned his gaze on her. “That may be, but you’d be surprised how many innocent people go to jail or to the gallows because they have no one to speak for them.”

  “We both know it’s too late for me to find representation now. Surely the judge will postpone the proceedings until Nick can be here to testify.”

  The sheriff let out a long breath. “That’s not happening, Grace. Mrs. Perkins has friends in high places. The territorial governor himself sent word that the judge needs to get on with it.”

  “Will you let Nick know? About the hearing, I mean?”

  Cody Daniels studied her for a long moment and then nodded, checked to be sure the cell was locked, and left the building.

  * * *

  Nick knew it wouldn’t be easy getting Grace’s parents to Juniper, but he’d drastically underestimated the level of the struggle. Ma Rogers was a nervous wreck, while her husband seemed to handle every challenge with a kind of stoic humor intended to calm his wife. But Nick wasn’t fooled. Every movement for the man was akin to climbing mountains.

  The struggle began as they met with Bill Ferris and Dr. Rove to decide how best to get Jim to the train. There was no possibility the man could sit up on the hard wooden seats of second class from Galax to Kansas City. And what of the transfer there? The wait between trains? The overnight travel from there to New Mexico?

  “We’ll book a sleeping compartment,” Nick said.

  Ma Rogers stared at him, her mouth open without the ability to form words. But she gathered herself. “I don’t know what you think you’ve married into, young man, but let me assure you, it is not money. We can barely afford the cheapest seats, and now you want to talk about a private compartment?”

  Nick had used part of the money the bank had returned to him from his payments on the land for the trip to Missouri. There was enough left to get Grace’s parents to New Mexico if he went second class. What better use did he have for the money than that? “I’ve got everything covered, Ma Rogers. You just worry about getting packed and ready to go.”

  The room went quiet as the doctor, Bill, and Nick’s mother-in-law stared at him, and Jim Rogers chuckled. “Looks to me like it’s us who’ve married into money,” he said. “We’ll pay you back, son.” He started to cough and choke then, and for that day, any further discussion of how they might manage the trip was over. Later, Nick wrote out a message he asked Bill to send to John Lombard, asking him to wire the money Nick had given him to hold—the money he’d saved for the land he would never own.

  “You’re going to kill him,” Ma Rogers argued when she and Nick were alone in the kitchen the next morning. She spoke in a fierce whisper, designed to keep her husband from hearing.

  “And yet he seems determined,” Nick reminded her.

  “He’s stubborn. You’ll learn soon enough the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Grace is just like him.”

  That made Nick smile, because he knew his mother-in-law was right. On the surface, Grace might seem delicate, but beneath, there was a fierceness about her, a survival instinct that had made her drive a burning stick straight into the face of her attacker. “He wants to go, Ma Rogers. I expect he wants to see Grace, and knowing she can’t come here—”

  “That and he wants to see his first grandchild, assuming he lasts that long.” She gazed out the kitchen window. The sky was a gunmetal gray, promising more snow by nightfall. “Well, I’ve had my say, not that Jim or anybody else pays me any mind. Maybe the weather will bring all of you to your senses.”

  As it turned out, the weather gave Mary Rogers the reprieve she hoped for. It snowed through that night and all the next day. And when it finally stopped snowing, the temperature dropped to frigid numbers that made travel of any sort impossible.

  After two days of being cooped up in the small house and no way to know what was going on back in Juniper, Nick thought he might go crazy. He got through the endless daylight hours helping the boys with chores, repairing harnesses and sharpening tools, and in general staying in the barn as much as possible. The nights were harder. He lay awake in his chair, listening to the silence that crept over the house in between Jim’s coughing bouts, and thought about Grace.

  He knew she wanted him to be there with her family when she couldn’t be, but dammit, he wanted to be with her. He barely knew her parents and siblings, and yet slowly, he was being drawn into their lives. Reuben sought his advice the way he might have asked questions of his father. Walt watched everything he did, and Nick had heard the boy repeating things he’d said or the phrases he used. Angie quizzed him about New Mexico and her sister and the Harvey Girls, and every time she did, her mother looked over at him with a warning in her eyes that made him keep his responses brief. In the evenings after supper, the twins snuggled against him as he sat in their father’s chair near the fire, begging for stories
. He ran out of appropriate stories about the ranch early on and started making stuff up about Slim and Smokey that made the little ones laugh.

  One evening, just as he and Reuben were headed to the house for supper, they heard a wagon and saw Bill Ferris headed down the lane. “Got a telegram for you, Nick,” he called out. “Also, the clerk at the telegraph office is holding that money you asked your boss to send.”

  Nick’s heart started to race. Finally, news from Grace. He reached the wagon before Bill had had a chance to climb down and held out his hand for the message. Bill and Reuben waited while Nick scanned the thin paper by the light of a lantern Bill carried on his wagon.

  MRS IN JAIL STOP DOING MY BEST STOP

  It was signed “Cody.” But what did it mean? His best to do what? Protect her? Get her released? Nick knew he had to get back to Juniper.

  “How are the roads to town?” he asked Bill.

  “Passable.”

  “Trains running?”

  “Mostly.”

  “Then we go tomorrow.” Nick headed for the house. Reuben and Bill followed him. He heard Ma Rogers and Angie in the kitchen, but he went straight to his father-in-law.

  “Jim, there’s been a change in plans. I need to get back to Juniper as soon as possible. Next train is tomorrow morning. Are you up to making that?”

  Jim frowned. “What’s happened? Is it Grace? The baby?”

  “It’s just—” He knew Bill would tell Jim about the telegram, and he didn’t know whether or not the man might have read the message. “I got word from the sheriff. Grace has been put in jail instead of being allowed to wait at the hotel, so something has changed, and it can’t be good.”

  Jim nodded. “Let’s get Mary and the children in here and figure out what needs doing.”

  “Thank you, sir.” There was no doubt in Nick’s mind that Jim Rogers would do whatever was necessary for Grace, no matter what the cost to his health. He turned to Bill. “Can you book a sleeping compartment for Jim and Mary and a coach ticket for me? One way for now—we’ll worry about a return later.”