by Clay, Verna
Chapter 16: Toothless Charlie
Brant felt encouraged by the fact that Abby had allowed him to make love to her. She'd even awakened early the next morning and collected eggs to make a big breakfast. When he'd suggested they all go to town, she'd heartily agreed, which encouraged him even more. Maybe they could pick up the pieces of their lives and go on.
During the drive, he watched her closely, seeing her brush tears away a few times. Reaching for her hand, he said, "Honey, we can get through this." She gave him a little smile and his heart tripped. How he'd missed her smiles.
In town, he guided the buckboard to the front of Clyde Jenkins General Store and told Abby to pick out something pretty for herself. He winked at Jenny and Luke and told them to choose some candy.
"Thanks, Pa," said Luke.
Jenny hugged him. "Thank you."
Abby gave him another one of her smiles and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her until they were both senseless with desire. Redirecting his thoughts to the present, he said, "I'm taking Sugar to the blacksmith's to check her shoe."
"Okay, Pa," said Jenny.
Luke was already in the store.
Abby said, "I might walk to the dress shop. I'd like to ask Mrs. Dennison about a particular pattern I have in mind."
"Okay, honey. How about we meet back here in an hour?"
"Okay. I'll see you then."
* * *
With her heart breaking, Abby watched Brant drive the buckboard across the road to the blacksmith's. When he entered the building, she entered the mercantile, said hello to the owners, and then told Jenny and Luke she was going to the dressmaker's. Walking swiftly down the boardwalk, she reached the shop, but passed it and entered the bank two businesses down. Purposefully walking to the door marked, Bank President, she knocked and opened it without waiting for an invitation. Mr. Berry looked startled by her intrusion, but invited her to sit.
"I'm very sorry about your loss, Mrs. Samson."
Abby nodded. "I only have a couple of minutes, Mr. Berry, so I'll get right to the point. You are aware, of course, that I have deposited a sizeable sum of money in your bank from the sale of a home I owned in Philadelphia."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you have never told my husband, per my request?"
"That's correct."
"I understand that you are foreclosing on our home."
Mr. Berry looked uncomfortable. "It's not up to me, Mrs. Samson. The board decides who will be foreclosed on and–"
"Hogwash. You have influence over the board. My husband's land is prime property and the bank wants it because of that. However, that's neither here nor there because I'm going to pay off the debt in its entirety. I want you to draw up the paperwork immediately, while I wait."
"Mrs. Samson, that's highly irregular."
"I don't care how irregular it is. I want it done now and I want the deed in my hand before I leave here. If I have it in the next few minutes, there's a hundred dollar bonus for you. Of course it's a bonus only the two of us will know about."
Mr. Berry tapped his fingers on his blotter. "You know, I think I can fulfill your request, Mrs. Samson."
Within fifteen minutes, Abby had the deed to Brant's land in hand and a sizeable withdrawal of cash, of which, she handed one hundred dollars to Mr. Berry. "This transaction regarding my husband's property is strictly between us. If you open your mouth to anyone, I will accuse you of accepting a bribe. Do I make myself clear?"
The bank president coughed, "Perfectly."
"Good day, sir."
Quickly retracing her steps to the dressmaker's, Abby entered and spoke with the proprietress, asking questions about a pattern she already knew the answers to. Several minutes later, Brant entered the shop.
Surprised to see him, she thanked Mrs. Dennison for her information and excused herself.
"I got Sugar taken care of so I thought I'd spend time with you. Is there something you want to buy, Abby?"
His sweet gesture, when she knew he had little money to spare, caused her to slip her hand into his. "No, Brant. I just needed to ask some questions."
When they strolled back to the general store and passed the hotel bulletin board, she paused and acted like she was perusing the notes posted there, when, in actuality, she was checking the departure date and time for the next stagecoach headed to east Texas. In two days she intended to be on that coach.
During the ride home, Abby said, "You know, Brant, I think it would be a good idea for Jenny to spend some time with Cora's daughter, Tilly. I don't think Cora would mind taking her for a couple of days." Abby's heart pounded waiting for his reply.
"I think that's a great idea. Why don't you go, too? It would do you both good to get away."
"No, no. I'm fine."
Brant looked at her profile. "Well, I'll cut my work short on those days and come home early."
"No, Brant. You and Luke just do your normal activities. It'll give me time to get some sewing done." Abby held her breath.
"Okay, honey. I'm happy you're feeling better. We've got to go on with our lives."
Abby reached to encircle his forearm; not because she was doing better, but because she wanted to touch him as much as she could before she left.
The next day Luke escorted Jenny to the MacGregors' ranch for a two-day visit and Brant hung around the house until Abby said, "Brant, go to work. I have sewing to finish and your constant mothering is very distracting."
He chuckled, "Okay, sweetheart. I'll be back for lunch."
Abby nodded, pretending to be interested in her sewing. When he left, she leaned her head against the back of the rocker and let her tears flow. No longer could she remain in the place that reminded her of her darling Ty day in and day out. Eventually, she rose and decided on the items necessary to take with her in her valise.
That evening and night, she put on an act worthy of a New York actress. After supper she sat on the porch with Brant and watched the sunset. Then she initiated lovemaking that was not an act.
The next day he and Luke rode out after breakfast, returned for lunch, and then rode out again. As soon as they were out of sight she rushed outside and called for Wally, leading him to the shed. Going down on her knees, she hugged him fiercely. "I love you, Wally. You're the best friend anyone could have. Because of that, I know you'll follow me and then try to warn Brant that I'm leaving. I'm sorry, but I have to lock you in the shed." She sobbed, "I'm going to miss you." After that, she saddled Daisy, tied her valise to the saddle, and then rode to town.
In a daze, she stopped at the local stable and asked the boy to feed and board her horse, assuring him that someone would pick the mare up soon.
"Sure, Miz Samson." He took the reins from her. "You okay, ma'am?"
She mumbled a reply and walked swiftly away. Crossing the street to the hotel, she nodded to Charlie before entering the ornate door and buying a one-way ticket to Bingham. Next, she walked to the dressmaker's shop to kill time. Returning to the hotel at three o'clock, nervousness had her pacing the length of the porch while the stagecoach drivers readied the horses.
"You goin' somewhere, Miz Samson?" asked Charlie.
"Ah, yes, Charlie. I'm visiting friends for awhile."
"I was right sorry to hear about your loss."
Abby looked away from him. "Thank you, Charlie."
After a lengthy silence, Charlie said, "I never told nobody this, but I lost my whole family ten years back to the fever—my wife and five youngins'."
Abby turned an incredulous stare on him. "Oh, Charlie," was all she managed to say.
He gave her a toothless smile. "Yep, after they died I run fer years and almost drank meself to death. Then one day, I heard me wife talkin' in me ear. Some might say it was the drink, but I knows it were her. She said, 'Charlie, I'm right put out at what you've become. Me and the children are in a wonderful place and you're in hell. You need to respect yerself enough to finish out yer life in dignity. Now s
top drinkin' and start livin'.'
"After that I settled here and started workin' fer folks doin' odd jobs and singin' at the hotel. I love the folks in this town. Well, that is, most of 'em. Some still haven't learned about human kindness, but they will—everyone gets that lesson."
The stagecoach driver hollered, "This stage is leavin' for Bingham! All Aboard!"
Abby gave Charlie a goodbye nod and climbed into the coach with the assistance of the driver. Three more travelers were loaded into the cramped space and then the driver yelled out their departure again. Abby leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Throughout the three hour journey, she kept her head averted from the three business men traveling to California to take possession of a hotel they'd purchased as partners. When one of them had tried to engage her in conversation, she'd merely said she suffered from motion sickness and wasn't much for talking. After that, she'd listened to their political debate with closed eyes and realized she did feel queasy.
At dusk, she arrived in Bingham and accepted her valise from the driver. With her heart in her throat, she entered the hotel and asked for directions to the Willowoods' house.
The friendly clerk said, "Oh, they live just off Main Street. Him bein' an attorney, he needs to be close to the courthouse." Abby listened to his directions and his ramblings and then excused herself when she thought it wouldn't appear rude.
The streetlamps were being lit when she finally located the house. A little sob escaped as she rushed to the front door. Pulling the bell rope she held her breath and waited. An old servant opened the door.
"I-I would like to see Mrs. Willowood, please."
The man looked at her strangely. "Whom may I say is calling?"
"Abby. I mean, Abigail Vaughn. We traveled together on a stagecoach from Ft. Worth."
The servant gave her another curious look and then said, "Please come with me and wait in the drawing room."
Abby followed him, her pounding heart making her breathing irregular. What if Mrs. Willowood refused to see her? Thankfully, she didn't have to ponder her question for long because the older woman burst into the room.
"Abigail! What a delightful surprise! I'm so happy–" Mrs. Willowood stopped talking when she saw Abby's face. "Dear, what's wrong?"
With a wrenching sob, Abby cried, "My baby died."
Chapter 17: Sorrow Expressed
Brant and Luke cantered their horses toward the barn in the late afternoon. Although encouraged by Abby's rally, something wasn't sitting right with him. She smiled and carried on conversation, but her eyes didn't join in. She was there, but she wasn't there.
Tonight we're going to sit down and have a long talk and I'm going to make her realize how much I love and adore her. He blew air out his cheeks. We need a baby and I'm going to do my damndest to give us one.
When they entered the barn, Luke said, "Where's Daisy?"
Fear clutched Brant's chest and he spurred Sugar to the front of the cabin, dismounted and rushed inside.
Immediately, he saw two envelopes on the table. With shaking hands he ripped open the closest one.
My Dearest Brant,
When you read this letter you will know me for the coward that I am. I have tried to go on after Ty's death, but my heart will not cooperate. Everyday, my feelings of sadness intensify until I find myself unable to do even the simplest of tasks. I am no good to you or the children. I can see in your eyes how concerned all of you are and how you have put your lives on hold for me. I cannot bear the guilt of that. In my mind, I know that one must carry on after the death of a loved one, but my heart and emotions will not cooperate.
Although I ask you not to worry about me, I know you will because you are kind and compassionate, as are Jenny and Luke. I do not see any other course of action for me now, but to leave. I will contact you in the near future to let you know I am safe and working through my grief.
Before I end this letter, I want you to know I loved you from the moment I read your first letter. Even before we met, your kindness jumped out from the written page, and the moment I saw you standing across the street the day of my arrival, my heart was lost to you..
I want to thank you for the happiness you and Jenny and Luke have given me. Jenny has been the sweetest daughter a mother could ever hope for and Luke, although difficult at times because of his sorrow, which I now understand, has your same kindness of heart.
Before I say goodbye, I have gifts for all of you. They are in the other envelope. I know you will not be happy with my gifts at first, but I do this as much for myself as for you; probably more so for myself. Please, please accept my gifts.
Finally, my love, it is time to say goodbye. Do not search for me. I will be in touch soon. I simply cannot fathom another day of endless grief because wherever I look there are continual remembrances of my beloved Ty.
—Abby
P.S. Wally is in the shed.
Brant blinked against blinding tears. Reaching for the other envelope, he ripped it open and removed the deed to his property and a stack of money. A small note was attached.
Please accept these gifts from my heart. I sold my home in Philadelphia and received a substantial profit. I am not sorry I sold the house because there were no happy memories to bind me to it. Please allow me this one joy in my dismal existence.
—Abby
Brant turned to see Luke waiting in the doorway. Speaking to himself, he said, "The hell I won't go in search of you, Abby."
Without delay, he and Luke mounted their horses and headed to town. Luke said, "Pa, do you think she went back to Philadelphia?"
"No, I don't think so. We'll just have to ask around town to see if anyone saw her."
"You don't think she'd just take off on Daisy, do you? You know, ride the trails."
"God, I hope not." Fear in Brant's stomach twisted into a tighter knot.
"Pa?"
The catch in Luke's voice made Brant slow his horse and turn to look at his son.
"Yes, son."
The boy's voice cracked, "I'm so sorry for the way I treated Abby. She's a good ma." He choked back a sob.
"Luke, Abby knew you were hurting and understood. I did too, even though sometimes I was harder on you than I should have been. We've all been through more than anyone should have to endure, but our experiences, as sad as they are, have created a bond between us that will never be broken." His own voice cracked. "And I should have told Abby long ago how much I loved and needed her."
Luke tried to comfort his father. "We'll find her, Pa."
In town, Brant reined his horse in at the front of the hotel. The first person he wanted to talk with was Charlie. The man spent a lot of time outside and maybe he'd seen something. The sound of Charlie's singing carried through the windows of the hotel and Brant stepped into the parlor ignoring hotel guests and walking up to the piano.
Charlie cut the ballad short. Brant said, "Hello Charlie. Can I speak with you a minute?"
"She left on the stagecoach this afternoon headed toward Bingham—said she was visitin' friends. Her horse is at the stable."
Brant nodded. "Thanks, Charlie."
Charlie scratched his chin. "It's almost dark. Why don't ya'll stay with me? My room's small but you jus' need to bed down 'til mornin'. As much as you want to find her, ridin' out at night's not smart. If yer horse goes lame, you'll jus' be that much further behind. If Luke's not goin' with you, he can stay with me 'til you return or he can ride back to yer place tomorrow."
"Sounds good. Send him to Mick MacGregor's in the morning. That's where his sister is."
"Sure thing." Charlie closed the piano cover. "She's a keeper, Brant. Jus' needs some help through this rough patch."
Brant tried to swallow the lump in his throat and nodded because he couldn't speak.
At first light, he was on the road. All night he'd tried to remember the name of the couple who had been Abby's stagecoach companions from Ft. Worth.
Chapter 18: Revelations
/> Although Brant wanted to gallop Sugar the distance to Bingham, and his horse would do it for him, she was too old for that kind of exertion.
The long ride, however, gave him plenty of time to think about his life, his children, and his beloved Abby. He should have told her long ago how much he loved and adored her. However, feelings of betraying his first wife had held him back. Only now, did he realize how misguided those feelings were. He'd loved Molly fiercely, just as he loved Abby fiercely. Molly was dead and Abby lived. And he could choose to become one of the walking dead that he encountered so often, or he could choose to live and love again. Abby made him want to live. Could he make her understand that she also had a choice to go on or become one of the walking dead herself?
He entered the outskirts of Bingham just as shops were opening to pedestrians filling the streets. Finding the local stable, he watered and rested Sugar and asked the stable boy, "You wouldn't know of an elderly couple named Winnows or Whipple…something or other? Would you?"
The skinny towhead said, "You mean Willowood?"
"Yes! That's it!"
"Sure. Everyone knows them. Are you in trouble and need a lawyer?"
"Ah, no. But I have important business to discuss with them. Could you direct me to their home?"
The boy appraised him for a few seconds. "They live off Main Street, a block over from the courthouse on First Street. It's a big green house with yellow trim. They're good people. Mr. Willowood helped my pa out once."
"Thanks, son." Brant flipped the boy a coin and he grinned.
After caring for Sugar and then splashing water from the pump to clean up, Brant combed his hair back and trotted his horse in the direction the boy pointed. The house was easy to locate and he tied Sugar's reins to the hitching post. Blowing a breath, he practiced what he wanted to say while following the flagstones to the front porch. Before he reached the door, it was thrown open by the plump woman he remembered from the stagecoach.
