Rocky Mountain Dreams (Leadville, Co. Book 1)

by Danica Favorite

  But Joseph wouldn’t.

  Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she tried forcing them away, but they wouldn’t listen. She gave them a quick swipe with the back of her hand.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Of course Gertie would notice.

  “The smoke is rather thick, that’s all.” To prove her point, Annabelle got up and moved to the other side of the fire. But as she passed Joseph, his eyes mocked her.

  Stop hiding.

  He could add it to the list of her sins.

  At least Nugget felt better. She was attacking her breakfast with gusto, enjoying every bite, and completely unaware of everything else around her.

  Annabelle didn’t want to feel this way. She would’ve liked to have laughed with Polly at whatever joke Gertie was telling. But the rushing in her ears kept her from being able to even hear it.

  Even her father was laughing.

  She stabbed some of her eggs, knowing that if Gertie noticed her not eating, there would be questions to answer. If only it didn’t taste like slag and there wasn’t such a huge lump in her throat to make it difficult to swallow.

  “What’s your doll’s name?” Caitlin had sat on the other side of Nugget and was staring at the tattered rag doll sticking out of the small bag Nugget carried.

  “Surprise,” Nugget said shyly, but a small smile crinkled her lips. It was good for Nugget to be able to relate to kids her own age. Annabelle knew that. Based on the reception the little girl had gotten in town, she was sure that Nugget probably had few playmates.

  “I’ve got a doll, too. Want to see?”

  As Nugget nodded, Caitlin pulled out the one thing sure to shatter the last shards of peace Annabelle had been clinging to.

  Bethany. Susannah’s favorite china doll.

  The plate slipped from Annabelle’s hands and crashed into the dirt. Among the remains of her breakfast, she saw spots unlike any she’d ever seen. She’d purposely put that doll in a special place, a place where her father wouldn’t find it to give to one of his projects.

  Caitlin sat opposite of Nugget, prattling on and on about how it used to be her very bestest friend’s doll, but now it was hers, so she named it Susannah.

  A nice gesture that wouldn’t bring her sister back.

  “Are you all right?” Joseph slipped into the spot next to her and began cleaning up her mess. She could only sit there and stare at it all.

  No, she wasn’t all right. But she wasn’t allowed to say so. She couldn’t begrudge a poor child the joy of a precious doll. And yet, she also couldn’t find it in her heart to share the child’s joy.

  What kind of monster was she?

  No wonder God didn’t listen to her prayers. There was absolutely no good in Annabelle Lassiter.

  “Don’t worry about it. Your pa and Gertie are over there talking.”

  His words were meant to reassure, but as she looked over, she noticed her father slipping money into Gertie’s hands.

  “He’s really generous, isn’t he?”

  Annabelle could only nod. She supposed this generosity of spirit was something to be praised, something clear in the idol worship shining in Joseph’s eyes. But what about her? Didn’t she have the right to grieve and miss her family? Selfish, yes. But she’d spent so long putting her own needs aside, and just once, she wanted her needs, her prayers, her dreams, to matter.

  “What’s wrong?” He looked at her with such a caring expression she wasn’t sure she could stand it.

  “I just want to go home,” she whispered.

  Joseph nodded. He didn’t try to make her stay and face whatever he thought was bothering her.

  “I’ll talk to your pa.” Joseph got up and walked toward her father.

  Nugget tugged on her sleeve. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay here with Caitlin. She’s going to show me how to fix Susannah’s hair.”

  Annabelle wanted to close her eyes and be transported to anywhere but here. But she was afraid that if she did, she’d see Susannah’s smiling face telling her the exact same thing. So she swallowed the lump in her throat.

  “I’m sure you’ll see her again.” Because she would face this irrational emotion. Not for her sake, but for the sake of a little girl who desperately needed a friend.

  “When?” Two little girls stared at her, like they were used to promises adults made, but seldom kept. Something she had often been guilty of with Susannah. “Later,” she’d tell her sister. Only later never came, and now Susannah was gone, and she’d never be able to do those things with her.

  “We’ll discuss it with my father.”

  Who was walking toward them with Joseph and Gertie in tow.

  “Joseph says you want to leave. We just got here. Surely you don’t want to refuse the MacDonalds’ hospitality. You haven’t even chatted with Polly yet.”

  Annabelle closed her eyes. They were supposed to be her family’s dearest friends. And once upon a time, before Henry had left with Annabelle’s heart, Annabelle and Polly would sit and giggle and admire some of the miners. What had Polly done with the shawl she’d been knitting for Annabelle’s wedding trip?

  It hardly mattered. There was no wedding, no wedding trip. Henry had gone without Annabelle, all because Annabelle had chosen to nurse her ailing family when the sickness hit. The worst part was, Henry hadn’t even said goodbye. Polly had been the one to break the news of Henry’s departure.

  How could she face her friend now?

  She opened her eyes and looked up at Joseph.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m tired. Of course we can stay.”

  “What happened to your breakfast?” Gertie pointed at the plate Joseph had cleaned up but hadn’t found a way to dispose of yet.

  Annabelle stared at the ground. “I’m sorry. I got distracted, and I was clumsy.”

  She was trying so hard not to offend anyone. To not wrap them up in what was obviously her grief alone. But nothing she did was right. This was why she’d stayed away. Why she couldn’t come back. Everything in her hurt, but everyone else had moved on.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” Gertie knelt beside her and put a hand on her forehead. “You’ve looked awfully pale since you got here.”

  “Nothing a night in my own bed won’t cure.” She gave another half smile, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She would do this. She would make it through the rest of the day in the mining camp, and everything would be just fine.

  Her father joined Gertie in front of Annabelle. “She did faint in the middle of Harrison Avenue yesterday. We all thought it was because her corset was too tight, but perhaps she is coming down with something.”

  The concern in her father’s face undid her resolve. She couldn’t let him think that his last remaining child was in danger, too. He’d lost so much, and even though she was trying to be brave for his sake, she couldn’t have him thinking she was ill.

  “Truly, I’m fine.” She stood, and at the same time, all the tears she’d been trying to hold back came rushing out. “I just want to go home. I don’t want to be here, where everything reminds me of everything I have lost.”

  The only good thing about crying like this was that she couldn’t see anyone’s faces to read their expressions. Especially Joseph’s. Why his was the most important, she didn’t know. But as much as she’d like to save face in front of him, the dam had been breached, and she couldn’t stop any of it.

  “I miss Susannah. I miss Peter. I miss Mark and John. I miss Mother. And I’m tired of pretending that it’s fine. It’s not fine.”

  Nugget wrapped her arms around Annabelle’s legs. “It’s all right, Miss Annabelle. You can cry just like I did when I was missing my mama. It’s all right to miss your mama.”

  The lit
tle girl’s kind words sent Annabelle to blubbering like a fool. She had said that very thing to Nugget. It’s all right to miss your mama. But she had no idea just how powerful those words were until someone said them to her.

  Gertie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. “Oh, dear heart, I should’ve thought about that. Of course a young lady would miss—”

  Annabelle tried to shrug off the embrace. “Please, Gertie, I can’t.”

  But Gertie only squeezed her tighter, and the tears kept rolling down Annabelle’s cheeks faster and faster.

  “You have to face this, my girl. You lost your mother, yes, but you have a lot of people who love you. You don’t have to lose us, too.”

  Gertie’s words throbbed in Annabelle’s ears. Was that what she’d done? In shutting herself off from everything, could she have been making it worse?

  Annabelle straightened, and moved out of Gertie’s embrace. This time, the older woman let her go. Annabelle turned and looked at her father, who held out a handkerchief.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that.” She blew her nose, an action that would horrify her mother, but she supposed her mother would be horrified by a lot of things she’d said and done lately.

  Her father wrapped his arms around her. “No, don’t be sorry for your tears. I suppose I haven’t been very good at helping you grieve.”

  He kissed the top of her head, the way he did when she was little, and held her tight. “Your mother would have known how to talk to you, but I...I don’t know what to say. I miss her more than you can imagine.”

  Annabelle looked up. Examined the lines in her father’s face, noting for the first time that they’d deepened in recent months.

  “You never told me.”

  “I was trying to be strong for you.”

  His words mirrored her own. Annabelle blinked away the tears. “And I was trying to be strong for you.”

  Her father pulled a letter from his pocket, the familiar script staring out at her. Aunt Celeste.

  “Your aunt has been begging me to let you visit. The Simms family offered to escort you, but I...”

  A long sigh shook his body. “I haven’t been able to let you go. You’re hurting so much, and I can’t let you leave broken.”

  “I’m always going to be broken if I’m here.” She looked around, noting that Joseph had taken the little girls closer to the fire, where they played with their dolls, and Joseph amiably chatted with Gertie and Polly.

  She wanted to be able to interact with them. To talk like they did in the old days. But those days were gone, and nothing would ever be the same.

  “No,” her father said softly. “You’re always going to be broken if you leave without fixing this.”

  But he didn’t understand. It wasn’t hers to fix. Annabelle hadn’t broken anything. She was the one who had been broken.

  Annabelle pulled out of his embrace and smoothed her skirts. “So what now? You won’t let me leave, and I can’t stay.”

  Her father let out the exasperated sigh she’d grown too used to hearing. “Gertie has been asking us to come up for a while now. I’ve been making too many excuses. There are a number of parishioners I need to see and I haven’t been able to spend nearly the time I’d like up here caring for them.”

  A familiar tightness closed around Annabelle’s lungs. “Please don’t ask me to—”

  “I’m not asking, I’m telling.” Her father stood immovable. “This shouldn’t be a chore. You used to beg to spend more time here. No matter how many days you spent up here, you always wanted more. So for you to be so reluctant to stay up here—”

  Her father looked her in the eyes, searching in a way that he hadn’t done before. “Annabelle, if there is some reason, other than you being upset over the loss in our family, then tell me. Otherwise, we’re staying. Long enough for me to finish my work, and, I pray, long enough for you to face the pain that has you so trapped.”

  And what if she suffocated in the process? Already her lungs felt like they’d been filled with the dreaded slag from the mines. Her eyes burned. And her heart might shrivel up and die completely. That, she supposed, would be a mercy. Maybe then, the pain would stop.

  “What will I do while I’m here?” In the past, she’d visited parishioners, helped with Polly’s chores, and then she and Polly would be on the lookout for—

  Annabelle closed her eyes. Henry was gone, and who knew what had become of Polly’s Tom? Regardless, there would be no giggling over weddings and babies.

  “Joseph needs your help. If he’s going to find his father’s silver, he can’t have a child underfoot. Mining is dangerous work as it is, and with the man who tried taking Nugget, he needs someone to take care of her.”

  Meaning Annabelle. And it didn’t diminish the threat of the man who wanted to take Nugget.

  “So we’re still in danger?”

  Her father shook his head. “Slade found some good tracks and he’s confident that he’ll be able to locate the culprit. You and Nugget will be safe enough with Gertie.”

  Leaving Joseph alone. “But what if the man comes after Joseph?”

  “I’m glad to see you care about them. Now for you to start caring about the rest of the people in your life.”

  Annabelle drew in a breath. “Of course I care about the people in my life. I just...”

  The look on her father’s face told a different story. He didn’t need to say it. She already knew that wallowing in her grief had been selfish. But remembering the sadness on Gertie’s face as she reminded Annabelle of the people she’d been shutting out, Annabelle’s excuses seemed rather thin.

  “You’re right. I should be more sociable toward Gertie and her family. I should talk to Polly.”

  It wouldn’t be enough time to repair the breach, but she could make the effort. Maybe she’d even find the words to mend things with Polly. Of all things she regretted, it was that she’d said such harsh things the last time she’d spoken to the girl who’d once been her best friend.

  It wasn’t Polly’s fault Henry had left. She’d merely been the bearer of bad news, and Annabelle had taken her heartbreak out on the other girl.

  So many wrongs Annabelle had to make up for.

  Her father followed her gaze to where Polly stood. “It would be a good start.”

  Annabelle swallowed. Her father didn’t know the half of what had gone on. He’d been visiting a sick parishioner while Annabelle sobbed the whole story to her dying mother. None of them had realized how little time her mother had left, and sometime in the midst of Annabelle’s pain, her mother had died.

  She’d already been grieving the losses of Susannah and Peter. But that day, Annabelle had lost the man she’d thought she was going to marry, her best friend, and her mother.

  Maybe Gertie was right. Maybe Annabelle hadn’t had to lose everything. But as Nugget’s laughter rang out across the camp, Annabelle wasn’t sure she could risk opening her heart up again. What if she did everything right, and she still lost everything?

  Chapter Twelve

  Joseph swung the giggling girl in another wide circle.

  “More!” Caitlin cried, the air full of her joy.

  Nugget stamped her foot. “No! It’s my turn.”

  He set Caitlin down and looked at the little girls. “You’ve both had turns, and now my arms are tired. Take a break and play with your dolls.”

  They ran toward the stumps where they’d set the dolls for a nap, and Joseph took a seat on another old stump. He hadn’t remembered youngsters being so tiring. Of course his sisters were older, though Bess only by three years. Still, it had been a long time since he’d heard such laughter. Or maybe it only felt that way.

  “Joseph!” Frank walked toward him, but Annabelle was nowhere in sight.

 
Joseph stood. “Is everything all right with Annabelle?” He wanted to kick himself for his impertinence. It wasn’t his place to be concerned for her. “I’m sorry, Frank, I had no right.”

  “You care about my daughter. You have every right.” Frank frowned, then looked over at the girls playing before turning his attention back to Joseph.

  But this wasn’t attention Joseph wanted. He didn’t have the right. Not when he wouldn’t be there for someone who clearly needed more stability than Joseph could provide.

  “I’ve tried to be a friend to Annabelle.”

  Frank nodded slowly. “What are your intentions toward my daughter?”

  Joseph sighed. “Friendship is all I have to offer. Back home, I have five sisters and a brother to raise.” The giggling girls drew his attention. “And then there’s Nugget.”

  A complication he hadn’t dealt with in terms of sharing with his family and figuring out how they were going to incorporate this sweet little girl into their lives. There was no question about his love for Nugget. But telling his siblings, and getting them to accept her...

  “Does she know that?” Concern filled Frank’s eyes.

  He hadn’t said so in so many words, but he knew where he stood in terms of Annabelle.

  “When we were stuck on the mountain, I proposed in case there were any repercussions to her reputation. She made it clear her answer was no, even if her reputation suffered.”

  Only Frank stared at him like he was crazy. “Any woman with pride is going to say no under those circumstances.” He looked at Joseph hard. “But the way you take up for her, it’s got to make her wonder if your feelings aren’t deeper.”

  They were. But feelings didn’t make for a decent marriage. He couldn’t be the kind of husband she or any other woman deserved.

  “I’m sure she understands.”

  But as the words came out of his mouth, he wondered if this was what Annabelle felt sometimes. Wanting to give the right answer, but not sure if he himself believed it.