Victoria sat on the stool next to him. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still care for you. He knows you’re getting fed now with me.”
Bobby nodded gravely, but he didn’t look like he believed her. Victoria knew that Frank’s coldness had affected the child as much as it had her.
He sniffled. “I don’t know what I did wrong. My pa and ma are dead, and now Mr. Bassett doesn’t like me. I try to be good and do what’s right, but—” His lower lip quivered.
Victoria leaned toward him, startled by the tears that suddenly streamed down his face. She wrapped her arms around him. “You did nothing wrong, Bobby. It isn’t your fault. Your ma had an accident and your pa got sick. And Frank? Well, he’s a little sick in the head, I’m afraid, but that’s nothing to do with you. He had a scary experience and was badly frightened. Sometimes we can’t help but lose ourselves a little when something bad happens. When my parents died, I wasn’t a nice person. I was mean to everyone, and it wasn’t right, but my heart was hurt.”
She was trying to convince herself as much as Bobby. She too felt like perhaps it was her fault Frank had completely shut her out of his life. She winced, remembering how before his accident, she had accused him of taking unnecessary risks, of being too bold and adventurous. Maybe if she had been a kinder, more understanding person, he would feel compelled to speak to her now.
Bobby looked into her eyes and blinked some of the tears away. “If he’s sick, I want to help him feel better, like he helped me when I didn’t feel good.”
Victoria smiled and took his hand in hers. “I want to help him too, but I don’t think he wants it right now.”
“I still want to try. I’m going to give him my rock collection. I found them by the riverbed, and they’re all sorts of colors.”
“That’s nice of you, dear. I’m sure he would like that,” she said, though she silently worried about the boy’s feelings being hurt further if he presented his gifts to Frank. It seemed likely that Frank would continue to behave dismissively toward them both, no matter what she or Bobby did.
Chapter Thirteen
On Friday afternoon, once all the children were gone, Frank locked the door to the schoolhouse behind him and headed for the restaurant, having arranged earlier that day to pick up his supper from Mary. He was relieved that it was the weekend because he wouldn’t have to teach, but he wasn’t excited about how he would spend his free days, or any other day for that matter.
He lived in a daze, slogging through his duties at the schoolhouse as though a sack of lead was hoisted to his back. He looked forward only to when he could be home alone at the boardinghouse once again. Nightmares in between restless periods of wakefulness haunted him at night, but even the nightmares were easier for him to endure than the harsh daylight. With the sun he felt exposed as a fraud, a man who masqueraded as strong and brave, but he knew now that nothing could be further from the truth.
He hobbled along the sidewalk at his usual slow pace, leaning heavily on his cane and still favoring his ankle that had been broken. The afternoon was cool, though the sun shone bright. Winter was nearly upon them, and Frank knew that if he’d fallen into the well later in the fall or during a norther wind, he likely would have become hypothermic before being rescued. His thoughts often flashed back to his harrowing experience. He’d gone about as long as a man can go without water before dying. In comparison, being dusted by a horse and paralyzed for a short time seemed like a Sunday picnic. The days he had struggled to remain alive and hopeful had shaken his worldview, shattered his upbeat nature, and changed how he viewed himself. He knew he would never be the same again after experiencing mortal fear.
The shame was what weighed on him now. The whole town knew what a fool he’d been, and though no one was cruel enough to comment on it, he believed they all secretly thought him loony. He would have been able to handle that if Victoria herself didn’t know, but she was the most aware of it of everyone. Considering how he’d touted to her how important it was to cast fear aside and to be brave, he couldn’t bring himself to face her again, though he thought about her all day, every day.
When he came upon the restaurant, he walked to the back door, where he’d arranged to meet Mary, and knocked. He sat on a bench against the wall. He hadn’t noticed it before and suspected that Mary had placed it there for his benefit. He didn’t want anyone to go out of their way to help him. He’d already accepted far too much help from Victoria and all the people who’d searched for him.
Mary appeared a short time later holding a large paper bag dotted with grease stains. “I placed a few extra rolls in there for you, Mr. Bassett,” she said. A spot of flour powdered her cheeks. She handed him the bag and then wiped her hands on her apron.
He stood from the bench. “Thank you, Miss Appleton. I can see you’re busy, so I don’t want to keep you, but can I ask…” He stopped and swallowed. He’d planned to bring up the subject of Victoria with Mary, and in fact it had been one of the reasons for him ordering food from her, but now that the moment was upon him, he struggled to find the right words.
The two people he cared for most in the world were Bobby and Victoria. With Bobby, he could observe how he was doing every day at school, and he could tell that the boy was healthy and well-fed thanks to Victoria. But he did not have the same access to Victoria, and his need to know how she fared overpowered his reticence to ask Mary about it. “Please, can you tell me, how is Miss Davis doing? Is she well and happy?”
He waited in discomfort for her reaction. Mary would no doubt want to know why he was asking her instead of asking Victoria directly. She peered at him sharply, but her eyes softened after only a moment of observation. “Victoria will never admit to being unwell, Mr. Bassett. She is too proud for that. From all appearances, she is fine. Her business is thriving, and her schedule is the same. She attends church. She visits me. In general, she seems more social than before you came to town, but I suspect there is a sadness about her these days. Your question reveals to me why, since you’re clearly absent from her life now. When you kept her company, you made her happier than I’d ever seen her.”
Her words caused remorse to well up inside of him. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “I don’t want her to be sad. I would give my right arm for her to be happy.”
Mary’s voice was gentle. “You should be telling her that, not me, don’t you suppose?”
“Perhaps,” he admitted, though he had no intention of telling Victoria anything. He couldn’t face her. Every time he thought about the relationship they had shared, he felt ridiculous. Remembering how he had punished her for allowing her fear to override her compassion made him want to disappear into the ground. How absurd that seemed now, when her instincts for survival so surpassed his own. To his way of thinking, he had only complicated her life. He had become a burden for her, and he had also saddled her with caring for Bobby, when that had never been her desire.
“I care about Victoria a great deal,” Frank said. That was an understatement, but it was all he could bring himself to admit to Mary. “If you see her, tell her… Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t be the man she needed.”
He stood and hobbled away toward the boardinghouse. He felt somewhat unburdened after speaking with Mary. Perhaps if she conveyed his message to Victoria, Victoria could move on with her life. It was important that she didn’t think herself to be at fault for how he’d distanced himself from her. It was his fault entirely.
Arriving home, Frank cursed each step up to his room. He wondered if something so simple as climbing stairs would always be difficult for him. He unlocked the door, hung his slicker in the wardrobe, and set out his supper. Mary had not only packed extra rolls for him, she had also slipped in a slice of molasses pie.
He wasn’t very hungry. Once he’d eaten a few bites, he put away the rest for the following day. He lit a candle and placed it on the table beside his bed, then picked up the novel he’d started the day before and quickly became engrossed in it. Reading was the
one activity where he could almost forget who he was and how badly he’d failed. He planned to read until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.
He was about an hour into his book when a sharp knock at his door startled him. He’d never had a visitor at the boardinghouse and thought it strange that someone should call on him unannounced. With some annoyance, he stood from the bed. Upon opening the door, he was surprised to see Deputy Benjamin Gray.
“Howdy, Deputy,” Frank said. “Everything all right?”
Benjamin was a young man known to be a fast gun and an invaluable assistant to Marshal Clyde Shaw. Upon first meeting the deputy, Frank had liked him right away. He reminded him of his old cowhand friend Joe, with his ready smile and quick wit. He’d made Frank feel welcome in Thorndale from the beginning. Frank had also learned that Benjamin had advocated strongly along with Victoria for widening the search parameters when he went missing, so in a way Frank owed his life to Benjamin as well as to Victoria.
Benjamin grinned good-naturedly. “All’s well. People see me, they assume some trouble is going on, but that’s not always the case.”
Frank gave him a half-smile in return. “I would invite you in, but it’s not the tidiest place…”
“I don’t give no never mind to that,” he said, walking past him into the room.
Frank noticed Benjamin was holding a bottle in his hand when he lifted it. “I come bearing gifts. I thought we might have a drink before turning in. It’s Friday night, after all, the right time to wet your whiskers.”
The last thing Frank wanted to do was entertain a visitor. It was a struggle for him to appear normal all day long, and it was only when he was in the refuge of his own company that he could relax. But he couldn’t think of a good reason to get rid of the deputy without sounding rude, so Frank invited him to sit at his table and collected two glasses from his makeshift cupboard. The landlady had a strict no-drinking policy in her building, which both men pretended didn’t exist.
Benjamin poured a shot of whiskey into each of their glasses. They clinked them together and downed the liquor in one gulp. Frank relished the burn that scorched a path down his throat. Benjamin promptly refilled his glass, and Frank took another shot.
“That’ll add hair to a man’s chest,” Frank said.
Benjamin chuckled and poured a third glass.
“You trying to take advantage of me, Deputy?” Frank asked. The alcohol was already dulling the sharp edges of his thoughts, and he welcomed the relief from his own tortured mind.
Benjamin laughed again and said, “I’m trying to help you forget all the shit you went through. Not that I don’t find you awfully handsome, partner.”
“You’re a good man,” Frank said.
“Maybe you can tell that to Mary Appleton,” Benjamin said. “I swear, half the time, that woman thinks I’m the devil’s brother.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s one of the reasons I’m here. Mary told me you’ve stopped seeing Miss Davis, and I think that’s a real shame. If ever a woman cared about a man, it would be that one. She always struck me as a cold fish, but you should have seen her speaking to the townsfolk. She was prepared to do anything to convince them not to give up on the search.”
“And I’m grateful—to her, to you, and to everyone else,” Frank said, leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Couldn’t anyone in Thorndale mind their own business? There was no way he could explain to Benjamin the intricacies of his relationship with Victoria and why he couldn’t be the man she needed anymore, just like he couldn’t explain it to Mary.
“I know it’s not my business—”
“You’re right, it’s not,” Frank cut in. He stood from his chair and walked the short distance to his window. The moon was bright, like the night he’d fallen in the well. Looking out, he spotted the shadows of passersby bundled warmly, hurrying from one building to another. A dog barked in the distance. He felt far removed from other people who continued to move forward in their daily lives. He wasn’t one of them. He wanted only to hide.
The alcohol was no longer dulling the edges of his pain. It was making him more depressed. He wanted Benjamin to leave. He wanted to go to sleep.
“Look, Frank,” Benjamin said, his voice quiet. “I know you’re suffering ‘cause of what happened, but you’ve got friends here. You’re not alone.”
“I’m fine. I’m alive, and that’s better than I thought the outcome would be. As far as Victoria goes, I owe her my life and I’ll always care about her, but she deserves a better man.”
“You may think that, but consider that she might not agree,” he said, standing from his chair. “I’ll leave the whiskey here, my friend. You need it more than I do.”
Benjamin left, to Frank’s great relief. He blew out the candle, undressed, and got into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep to give his mind a break. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Mary and Benjamin had said.
Victoria had fallen in love with him, or at least the prior version of him, and she was not happy. That wouldn’t do at all. He couldn’t bear the thought of her carrying on with the burden of his memory in her mind. At the very least, he had to speak to her. He had to make her see he could no longer be the man she needed, and that it was nothing to do with her.
Chapter Fourteen
Victoria screamed, jumped to her feet, and scrambled backwards. Fire blazed from the spilled oil under her sewing station, catching on to the oak wood desk. She rarely sewed after sundown because she needed natural light for complex stitching, but on this evening she had opted to light the coal-oil lamp and finish a dress for Mary. It was a pattern she had stitched so many times, she thought she could do it in the dark. What she hadn’t anticipated was the space the lamp took up on her station. Used to her arms being uninhibited, she had reached over haphazardly, knocking the lamp clear over in the process.
She tried to snuff out the fire. She threw clothing over it and doused it with her mug of coffee. Whatever she did, it only seemed to grow, and she realized if it grew much more she and Bobby had better not be stuck inside.
“Bobby! Get down here,” she cried, running up the stairs. He met her at the top and Victoria grabbed his arm, tugging him down toward the exit before the flames blocked their entrance.
They ran into the street, and Victoria shouted, “Help, fire, please help,” at the top of her lungs. Most of the businesses were closed, so the road was nearly empty, but to her shock, Frank was just across the street, heading in her direction.
His hobbling pace quickened toward her. “Victoria, what’s wrong?”
“There’s a fire inside. My lamp, it fell, it broke,” she stammered between gulps of air.
He headed straight for her shop. Calling to her over his shoulder, he ordered, “Go find some more people and tell them to bring buckets of water.”
With a quick glance at her building, she noticed with dismay that smoke was pouring out the east window, and she was sure the fire had grown exponentially in the few moments she’d been out of doors. With equal horror, she watched as Frank walked into the building without hesitation.
She thought about running after him, but instead chose to do as he requested. She fled down the street, shouting to anyone in sight that her shop was on fire. It seemed like ages, but was likely less than a minute, before men and women appeared lugging pails of water toward the building. Word spread, and the whole town seemed to come to life as lamps lit and the buzz of voices filled the moonlit air.
“Bobby, stay here on this bench and I’ll come get you when the fire’s out,” she said, giving him a quick hug.
She ran back to the shop. Smoke still leaked from the window, but no flames were visible. She stared at the building, the place that contained her livelihood and her home, and realized what she had feared for so long—losing her business—was coming to fruition. If the place could not be saved, she would be homeless and destitute. As terrible as that thou
ght was, it was a mere footnote to what seized her mind in the moment. She scoured the area for Frank, wanting only to see him and to know he wasn’t stuck inside the burning building.
Two men Victoria recognized jogged out the front door with empty buckets. One was the owner of the mercantile, Charles Campbell, and the other was a man she’d gotten to know during their search for Frank, Deputy Benjamin Gray. She hurried toward them, eager to learn the status of the fire, and as she approached, she saw that the expression on their faces was triumphant. They dropped their buckets and shook hands, slapping each other on the back with a congratulatory air.
“The fire’s out?” Victoria asked, afraid to get her hopes up.
Benjamin nodded. “Sure is. Don’t know that we even needed the water. By the time I got here, Frank had thrown a rug over the flames and was stomping it out with his feet and cane. Charles and I joined in and stomped out the rest of it. Poured the water over it for good measure. Looks like there’s not too much damage, and no one got hurt.”
Victoria placed her hand over her heart, noticing for the first time how quickly it was beating. “Thank you so very much,” was all she managed to say.
A crowd had gathered. Excited murmurings filled the air. Victoria walked around to the back of her shop and sat down on the bench. She preferred to recover from her scare alone and did not wish to discuss the accident with the townsfolk. Now that her fear had abated, she was beginning to feel embarrassed. It was basic safety, being mindful of a lit lamp in arm’s reach. How could she have been so foolish?
She leaned her elbows on her legs and placed her hands over her face, shutting out the world and thanking God that everyone was safe and the whole building hadn’t gone up in flames.
A quiet voice startled her. “You alright?” She dropped her hands and sat upright. Frank stood in front of her, holding his hat in one soot-covered hand and his cane in the other. Ash was smeared across his cheek and his hair looked wild and unruly. Despite his disheveled appearance, his expression comforted her. There was kindness in his eyes, and she realized it was how he used to look at her, back when things were good between them.
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