Lydia was in a heap on the floor. Her cries echoing off the ceiling. Caleb had never heard anyone cry like that. She was still in her soiled dress and the bathwater sat cold and untouched.
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “I just came to deliver the packages and see if she needed the water emptied. She was standing at the window and then suddenly, she let out a scream as I’ve never heard. Then she went like this.”
“Ma? Ma?” Hart rushed into the room. He knelt next to Lydia and brushed his mother’s hair from her eyes. “Ma?”
“Lydia, honey, you’re safe,” Caleb said.
Lydia stared at them with empty eyes. Her sobs quietened into soft hiccups.
The clerk appeared in the doorway. “I can’t have my other customers being disturbed. You will need to keep her quiet, or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“She’s quiet now.”
“Is she alright?” Molly inquired.
“She will be.”
Hart was sitting next to his mother rocking back and forth. Caleb could see the young boy’s shoulders shaking as he silently cried while brushing his mother’s hair.
Caleb pushed Molly and the clerk out of the room. He took the packages from Molly’s hands. “I’ve got this.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Caleb thought for a moment. “Can I get a pot of hot tea and a glass of warm milk?”
Molly nodded and headed down the hall to the steps. Caleb returned to the room and put the packages on the bed. He noticed a small settee in the corner with an extra set of sheets and a blanket. Molly must have brought those in while they were gone.
“Lydia, honey, let’s get you up.” He helped Lydia into the chair. His clean shirt was covered in streaks of dirt, but he didn’t care. He situated her in the chair and looked around the room. Something must have set her off. But what?”
Molly said Lydia was looking out the window when she came up. Caleb walked over but he didn’t see anything that stood out to him. The street was filling with cowboys looking for a good time or a good fight.
Caleb was truly at a loss. He wished his mother was here. She would know how to take care of Lydia.
That was it. He needed to get Lydia to Flat River. Marmee could look after her. And Hart would be able to stay with her. As he was mentally planning, he remembered the clerk handed him a telegram. He wondered if it was from the marshal.
He found it on the edge of the bed where he dumped the packages. He unfolded the paper and his eyes grew wide as he read the words typed out on the page. The telegram had gotten wet, so some of the words were smeared
Caleb Chapman. -- your message. Do not let them out of your sight. ----- gang is looking for them. On my ---. Will catch a train to Denver to meet you in --- days. Connect with A. Gordon when you arrive. You must keep them safe. S. Davis, US Marshal
What gang? It couldn’t be the Richards Gang.
The Richards Gang were the same people that had stolen cattle from his family and then killed Michael. Caleb felt his blood boil as he crumpled up the paper in his hand. A. Gordon. Caleb rolled the name around on his tongue. He wondered if the marshal meant Archie Gordon. Archie was the lead agent at the Pinkerton Office and married to Caleb’s sister Marianne. Of course, the marshal wouldn’t have any way to know that.
There must be something more going on.
Caleb looked at Lydia. Who are you? he thought, and why would the gang be after a woman and her son? He remembered Goodie mentioning that Brodie Richards had been released from prison. Never did he imagine that their paths would cross again so quickly.
“Caleb!” Hart yelled. He was looking out the window and pointing to the street. “Hurry, Caleb.”
Caleb walked over to the window. “What is it?”
“See that man?” Hart said. Caleb noticed his voice went to barely a whisper. Caleb had to strain to hear the words. A lone man rode a large black horse down the street. He was dressed all in black with silver adornments on his hat and boots. His dark hair was long, and Caleb could see a scar from his eye to his chin as if someone had carved into him.
He wore two gun belts crossed over his hips and a rifle in the scabbard behind him. Whoever he was, he was not a man to trifle with.
“I see him,” Caleb said. Hart moved away from the window and sank to the floor. “Who is he?”
Hart looked at him, tears forming in his eyes. “That’s the man who hurt Ma and stole Taffy.”
Chapter 10
Why couldn’t she remember?
Lydia’s head hurt just thinking about it.
It was like a mystery and she was missing a few critical pieces of information.
She took a sip of the cool tea from the jar. It made her mouth wet but did nothing to quench the insatiable thirst she had.
She finished off the jar while she looked at the brass tub of water cooling in the room. She had never seen a tub like that. She recalled bathing in a galvanized washtub.
But where was that?
She desperately wanted to take a bath, but it was too much energy to undress and slip into the tub.
She remembered waking up in a strange wagon with another woman. She remembered a man called Doc telling her that her wagon train was attacked, and she was injured.
She remembered the tall man with deep brown eyes coming to visit her. Her heart leaped when he crawled in the wagon to ask her questions. She felt such a pull to him that she knew in her heart, this man must be her husband. There was no doubt.
She didn’t understand why he didn’t come and visit her more often, instead, she had to beg the doctor to find him. The dark-haired man was the only thing that had a soothing effect on her soul.
There were three other survivors, one of which was a little boy. He seemed familiar to her, but it was probably because they were on the wagon train together.
Why was she on the wagon train? Where was she going?
Now, she was on a cattle drive with over two dozen men. Why didn’t she feel safe?
Her husband would protect her.
Her husband.
Lydia scoured her brain trying to recall her wedding day. It was as if everything before waking up in that wagon just disappeared.
She needed some air. She pushed herself up from the chair and stood for a minute, willing the dizziness to pass. If she could get to the window, she could open it, and then perhaps she would feel better. She took a step towards the window. Then another.
As she walked by the washstand, she caught sight of herself in the looking glass and gasped.
Is that what she looked like?
No wonder her husband couldn’t look at her.
She moved closer to the looking glass and took in the woman staring back at her.
Her hair was caked in blood and dust. A huge bruise covered her forehead, eye, and cheek. Her lips were cracked from the extreme heat. She took a washcloth from the stand and returned to the tub to wet it. The dirt from her hand swirled into the warm water. She shook off the excess water and returned to the looking glass to try to remove some of the dirt on her face.
All she managed to do was smear the dirt around. She needed a bath.
Her dress was in tatters. There was a strong smell of soot coming from it. Was there a fire?
She dropped the dirty cloth in the bowl on the stand and proceeded to the window.
It took a couple of tugs, but she managed to open the window and breathe in deep gulps of air. The scent of the town assaulted her senses. She could smell horse manure mixed with leather and something cooking. It wasn’t a good combination.
Hearing a knock on the door, she directed the person to enter but continued to look at the street below. Lydia leaned her head against the window frame looking down below when she saw the man come in view.
Every breath left her body as her eyes followed him walking below the window.
“Turn around,” she demanded in her thoughts. “Turn around and look at me.”
The ma
n turned to face her as he crossed the street and the breath escaped her body.
Who was he?
Suddenly flashes of gunfire and murder raced through her mind. A sound built up inside of her, deep from within her belly. She couldn’t suppress the sob that escaped. Biting on the back of her hand she tried not to make a sound, but it was no use.
“Ma’am?” a woman’s voice called.
Lydia turned and looked at her and screamed. A dam burst inside of her and emotions she didn’t know she was feeling bubbled out. She couldn’t stop. Lydia collapsed to the floor, curling her knees to her chest and sobbed.
“Please stop, miss,” the woman begged.
“What happened?”
It was her husband. He would take care of everything.
She felt a small hand touching her hair.
“Don’t cry, Ma,” the little boy said.
It must be her son, although she didn’t recall giving birth to him.
The sound of thunder cracked in her mind. She closed her eyes to block it out.
She heard voices but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
One voice called to her. It was soothing and calmed her fears.
She felt herself being picked up and placed back in the chair while the man went to join the boy at the window. They must have seen the man too, as the boy knelt on the floor, below the window.
The man joined him.
“What is it?” she asked. She needed to hear the words. She hadn’t imagined the man.
“It’s nothing,” the man said. He stood again, looking in the street. He must have spied someone he knew as he gave a few short bursts of whistles, before closing the window. “Nothing at all.”
A few moments later a light knock was heard on the door. The man walked to the door and slipped outside. She could hear him talking to someone. The door clicked open and the man popped his head in the room.
“Hart, come here for a second,” he said softly. “I want you to go with Goodie back to the wagon.”
“But I wanted to stay here with you.”
“I know, buddy, but this is important. How about if I let you ride Blaze tomorrow?”
“All by myself?” The man nodded. “Can I ride point?”
“Absolutely. Now get your hat and dirty clothes and go with Goodie. I even think there is some candy in those paper bags.”
“Can I sleep with the cowboys?”
“You absolutely can, but you may want to hide the gumdrops. I hear they are Goodie’s favorite.”
Hart ran to get his items from the bed and disappeared into the hall.
A different man’s voice spoke to the boy. “I heard you had gumdrops in there?”
She could hear the boy laugh as their voices disappeared down the hall.
The man with the dark eyes came back in the room and knelt in front of her.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
She nodded. “I am now.” She reached out and brushed her fingers through his dark hair. “You cut your hair.” Her fingers traced his smooth cheeks. “And you shaved.”
“I thought I should look human again.” His voice was husky.
“You look very handsome.” She dropped her hand. “I looked at myself in the mirror. I really do need a bath.”
“Your water is untouched.”
“It took too much effort to move.” She wiped her fingers on her cheeks, blending tears with the dirt that remained.
“Okay, let’s see what we can do. I’ll go get the maid.”
He stood and Lydia reached out to grab his arm. “No, please don’t. I don’t want anyone else to help me.”
The man raised his eyebrow.
“Can you undress by yourself?”
“If you do the buttons in the back, I can get the rest.”
He nodded and helped her stand.
“Forgive me, I can’t remember your name for the life of me.”
She saw him swallow. “Caleb. Caleb Chapman.”
“Caleb,” she turned her back to him. “A strong name. It means loyal and brave.” She looked over her shoulder. “Are you loyal and brave, Caleb Chapman?”
“I know I’m loyal. I guess brave is a matter of perspective.” She felt his fingers fumble with the buttons. “You know what? There is no saving this dress,” he said, tearing the fabric.
Lydia held the front of her dress in position.
“I’ll step out so you can finish.”
“I need help. I can’t wash my hair. I can’t lift my arms that high.”
“Lydia…”
Lydia looked at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”
“I don’t think…”
“You’re my husband, Caleb. There is nothing wrong with helping me wash my hair.”
She watched his teeth clench and he flexed his hands several times. “Alright. You get undressed and in the water. Cover the tub with the towel and I’ll help you wash your hair.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Caleb walked back to the window and looked out. His eyes never glancing back to her. She was disappointed that her husband didn’t find her attractive, but she understood given her current state.
Quickly undressing, she slid into the cool water. She wished it were warmer. Pulling the towel over the tub to shield her state of undress, she called to him. He turned and quickly moved to the back of the tub.
“Get your hair wet, honey,” he said. His voice sounded funny, but Lydia did what he asked. She slid underneath the water and held herself for a minute. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. She was alive. She needed to remember that.
Coming out of the water, she took several large breaths and dragged her hands down her face to remove the water. Caleb tapped her shoulder and handed her a washcloth. Dunking it in the water, she squeezed it tightly to get rid of the excess water. She then placed it over her face and leaned back against the back of the tub.
She felt his hand enter the water.
“That is cold.”
“It’s alright,” she mumbled from beneath the washcloth.
She felt him lather up her hair with the bar of soap. His fingers worked into her scalp and she could feel him tugging on her hair trying to get the knots out.
“You must have done this before.”
“I have three sisters. One would wash her hair on the porch every Saturday before church. She has this red hair that knots easily. When she was done washing it, I’d sit there and help her get the knots out. I’ve been known to tie a rag curler here and there.”
Lydia gave a little laugh. “Three sisters?” She wondered why she couldn’t remember any of them. If they were married, she was sure she would have met them. “Help me remember,” she said. “What are their names?”
“Marianne and Penelope are twins. Then there is Alice who is the youngest. She’s just nineteen.”
“Do you have any brothers?”
“Four. Owen and Oliver are the oldest.”
“Are they twins?”
“Yes.”
“Two sets of twins in a family. How unusual.”
“Then there is Michael.”
“How old is he?”
“He’s dead.”
Lydia was silent for a moment. She removed the washcloth and lifted her chin to look back at Caleb. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It was a long time ago. Then me, and then comes Everett.”
“How did your brother die?”
“He was shot. Didn’t even have time to draw his gun. A coward shot him in the back and then another man finished him off. Marianne was there when it happened. She made sure Duke Richards paid for his crimes.
“Oh my. How horrible. Did they catch the man?”
“Eventually. Took about three years. He ended up hanging for his crimes.”
Lydia laid back in the tub, pulling the towel further up to cover her. “I’ve never had a bath like this before. It is so large.”
“Much ni
cer than trying to fit in a galvanized washtub.”
Lydia laughed. “I was thinking just that.” She shifted in the water creating little waves that wet the towel. “When we get to our new home, I’m going to get a washtub just like this.”
Caleb paused. “Where’s our new home?”
Lydia blinked. She wrinkled her brow and clenched her eyes, thinking it would help her remember. “Wherever you are. North, I think.”
“That would make sense. Did we have family that we were headed to visit. A sister perhaps?”
“No,” Lydia said. “I’m an only child.”
Caleb stopped combing her hair with his fingers. “You remember that?”
“I remember my ma and pa, but I don’t remember a sibling.”
“Is your memory returning?”
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t remember much. It is just things I know.” She slid back in the water. “I know that makes no sense.”
She felt Caleb pull her hair again. She had just closed her eyes, savoring the feel of the pressure against her head when he tapped her on the shoulder.
“Dunk yourself again.” Lydia slid under the water and she felt Caleb rubbing her scalp to get the soap from it. She surfaced when she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. “Let’s wash it once more. That should get the rest of the blood out of it.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his fingers in her hair. She heard him get up and go to the door. She was too tired to open her eyes to see who it was. She listened for his boots thudding against the floor as he returned.
She heard him put something on the ground, so she opened one eye to look at him. “What’s that?”
“Warm water. Dunk your head once more and then I’ll do a final rinse with this.”
Lydia complied, moving her head underneath the water. She could feel the wet strands floating against her face. Covering her face with her hands she surfaced once more and flipped her hair back. She heard Caleb laugh. She must have gotten him wet.
“I’m ready,” she said. She leaned forward in the tub and she heard Caleb gasp.
“You’re all bruised on your back as well.”
“That’s probably from laying in the wagon for the past few days.”
She felt Caleb’s fingers tracing the bruises and she held her breath. He touched her so lightly she thought she might have been imagining it.
Caleb Page 10
