Forever Hidden

by Tracie Peterson

  The ride into town was exhausting, with the weight of everyone’s grief pressing on him. He went to the ticketing office, and then returned the money to Judas.

  “She’s . . . dead?” Reynolds’s face went ashen. “Dead?”

  John nodded. “I don’t know much more than that.”

  “That shady doctor! I’m sure it’s because of the fake medicine.” Judas stomped toward the door. “I’m going to go talk to the sheriff right now. That man is guilty of murder.”

  John stopped him. “You must not have heard yet. Dr. Kingston was killed in the street this morning.”

  Judas sank into his chair. “What a horrible thing. No, I hadn’t heard. What happened?”

  “A father of a patient shot him.” John’s strength and energy were fading fast. “I have to go talk to the preacher. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.” He headed for the door, but Reynolds called out.

  “John, don’t worry about working for me anymore. The Powell girls are going to need you. We’ll work out the other debt . . . later.” Reynolds shook his head. “It’s not important right now.”

  “Thank you.” What else was there to say? John headed for the Roadhouse. Complete weariness took over him as he went the few blocks. He reached the tent. “Pastor Wilson? Are you here?”

  “I am, come in.”

  John entered to find the man on his knees, with a Bible on a stool in front of him. A single lantern hung from the top tent ridge. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  “It’s no problem, John.” He got to his feet. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news to convey. Mrs. Powell passed on this morning. We’ll need to arrange a funeral and for her burial. I came on behalf of the family to ask if you wouldn’t mind coming out to the farm.” He stood there, holding his hat in his hands, his mind suddenly blank.

  “I can leave immediately.” The pastor walked toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I must say, I was hoping it was happier news. For a moment, I thought perhaps you were coming to ask me to do a wedding rather than a funeral.”

  John felt his eyes go wide. “I wish that was the case—Wait. How . . . how did you know?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t take a genius to see the spark between you and Miss Havyn.”

  “Oh.” John blinked several times. “I hope to talk to you about that soon, Pastor, but it will have to wait awhile. I appreciate your prayers.”

  “You’ve got them, son.” The pastor put on his hat and headed out of the tent. John followed. “I’ll go fetch my horse and head right out to the farm.”

  “Thank you.” John gazed toward the blue sky Melissa Powell would never see again. A million thoughts raced through his mind. The majority of them questions. It’s not that he doubted God was in control, but it didn’t make sense. And it hurt.

  Melissa Powell was one of the most amazing people he’d ever met. Her death was a great loss.

  A man cleared his throat, and John turned.

  Chris stood there. His shoulders still slumped, his face haggard. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to talk to you.”

  John furrowed his brow. “This is a difficult time for the family, Mr.—?”

  “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  “Look, whoever you are, I just think it would be best if you waited awhile.”

  “I’ve been waiting for too long as it is, Mr. Roselli.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I asked around.” The man looked to the ground. “The thing is . . . my name is Christopher Powell.”

  What? Havyn’s father? “I’m not quite sure I understand. . . .”

  “Melissa was my wife. Whitney, Havyn, and Madysen are my daughters.”

  “But Christopher Powell is dead.”

  “That’s what we wanted you to believe.” The man shook his head, still looking at the ground.

  Something didn’t add up. “I’m sorry, sir. But I have a hard time believing you are Christopher Powell, because I remember you from Cripple Creek. I remember seeing you with another woman as your wife and with small children. And I remember vividly the night I saw you in the street and a bunch of men had it in for you. That was 1891, if I recall. I saw you with a little boy earlier, and then . . . Well, I thought you were dead. I was there. I tried to stop the men.” John shook his head. Was this some kind of bad dream?

  Shock covered the man’s face. “That was you? I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. But then again, I was drunk. I was always drunk.” His shoulders slumped as he looked back up at John.

  “There’s no reason you should recognize me. I was just fourteen. Not even a man.” How had this man survived? “Those men beat you badly.”

  “They did. Maybe, you could say, they beat some sense into me. My life changed that night. You stopped those men, and the sheriff took over and had me taken to the doctor’s place. Someone sent for Chuck. When I woke up, he laid out an ultimatum. I was to leave and never return. There were divorce papers from Melissa and a hefty sum of money, which was mine if I would simply sign and leave.”

  What? Could that be true? “I still don’t understand. . . .”

  “There’s more I need to tell you. You see, I gambled away everything. I was a drunk and a terrible husband. Oh, I loved Melissa and my girls something fierce, but the alcohol always called to me. And I let it. Over time, I was unfaithful to my beautiful wife and got another woman pregnant. But you see, Esther had a boy. I’d always wanted a boy. And for some reason, that made me feel more like a man. So I continued on in my behavior. Chuck found out. The fight I got into that night was a great excuse for him to get rid of me for good. Those men were his friends.”

  “You had a wonderful wife and three beautiful daughters—”

  “I know. And I threw it all away. But I’m not the same man I was. I wanted to come back and make things right.”

  “I’m not sure how you can do that now. Especially at a time like this.” There was no way he was letting this man near the Powells. Yes, God was a God of forgiveness, but putting Havyn and her sisters through the added pain of hearing this man’s story?

  No.

  Chris slid his hands into his pockets. “After I signed the divorce papers and left, I married Esther. But I went into an even worse spiral of drinking and carousing. Esther had our second baby by that point, and was pregnant with another. She put her foot down and told me we were going to move in with her parents. They lived down in Colorado Springs. I refused. But the next time I got drunk—which was the next day—she already had the wagon loaded and had a couple fellas throw me in the back. By the time I woke up, we were almost there. Her parents helped me get dried up. Eventually they even got me in church. Something Melissa had been trying to do for years. Then they let us help with the family business—a mercantile.” He hung his head. “Esther died about six months back. I didn’t deserve her. Just like I didn’t deserve Melissa.”

  While he wanted to believe that the man had gotten himself right with God, John resisted. What if it was all a lie? “Why did you come to Nome? And where are your children?”

  “They’re with Esther’s sister, Ruth. Her husband came up to Nome to search for gold, and she hasn’t heard from him in a long while. She’s afraid he’s turned into what I used to be. So I came up here to find him and send him home. But God was also asking me to make things right with my family. I never lost track of them. I knew one day I’d have to face them.” He leaned forward. “I have to let my girls know that I’m alive.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.”

  Chris straightened and leveled a gaze at John. “Well, you need to realize that it is. Either let me tell them, or you do it. I’m going to be at my wife’s funeral, and you can’t stop me.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Sitting on a chair by the fireplace, Havyn set her chin on her hands and peered out the large window. Normally, this was her favorite place to sit and look at the view. But today, her hea
rt was broken into a million pieces. The sky had turned gray, and it would probably rain.

  All too fitting for saying good-bye to Mama.

  A figure in the distance rode toward the farm. Her heart lifted. John. She needed his strong presence right now. She went out the door.

  It was him.

  “Hi.”

  He looked so . . . burdened. “Hi.” She went to hug him. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Pastor Wilson just left.”

  “I know, I passed him on the road. I’m thankful you were able to get it all figured out.” He took her hand and led her inside. “There’s something we need to talk about. In private. Where are your sisters?”

  “Whitney is lying down. She had a horrible headache, and Madysen is with Granddad. Let’s go by the fireplace. There’s a chill in the air.”

  He followed her, and Havyn got the impression that the subject he needed to broach was serious. Hadn’t they had enough of that lately? She needed some uplifting.

  She settled by the fireplace, and John sat across from her, putting his elbows on his knees. “Havyn, there’s something I need to tell you, and it’s not going to be easy to hear.”

  What could this be about? He wasn’t going to tell her they shouldn’t get married . . . was he? She could barely nod.

  “I’m not sure where I should even start. But your dad had a second family.”

  Whew! That wasn’t so bad. “I had a feeling he did.” At John’s puzzled look, she went on. “One night he was drunk and he talked about how a woman named Esther was pregnant with his baby. I had no idea who Esther was, but she obviously wasn’t Mama. It’s so sad that he abandoned more than us when he died.”

  He took a deep breath. “That’s the thing. Your father . . . well, he didn’t die.”

  She sat there, frozen. “What do you mean? Of course he died. Granddad even showed us where he was buried.”

  “No, honey, I’m sorry. Your dad is very much alive and . . . he’s in Nome.”

  “What?” She stood and balled her fists at her sides. “Dad’s alive? And here? How do you know this?”

  “I met him this morning on my way home. He was walking out here to see you all. Said he knew you. I didn’t know who he was. Then I got here and found out your mother had passed, so I went out and told him there was a death in the family and that it would be better if he came back to see all of you at a later date. When he found out it was your mother who died, he started weeping. Not something you see a grown man do very often. He left then, but when I went to see Pastor Wilson, he found me again.”

  “And you’re sure it’s him?” She put a hand to her stomach. It was all in knots and tumbling over itself.

  “Well, you’ll have to be the ones to see for sure, but his story seems to line up with the facts that I knew. I was actually there the night he got beaten. I had heard he died, but apparently that wasn’t the case.”

  Her stomach roiled. Was she going to be sick? “I don’t think I can deal with this right now.” She put a hand to her forehead.

  John stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but you have to. He says he is going to be at your mother’s funeral, and that we can’t stop him.”

  Closing her eyes, she took some calming breaths. Only one thing to do. “We’ve got to talk to Granddad about this. Without Whit and Maddy. But I’m afraid it’s going to crush him. How could he have been mistaken?”

  His next words were almost her undoing.

  “I don’t think he was, Havyn. I think he planned the whole thing.”

  “Granddad?” A hand on his arm made him open his eyes.

  Sweet Havyn stood over him, a troubled expression on her face. “We need to speak to you about something quite important. Are you up for that? Do you need something to drink?”

  He blinked several times and shook his head. He’d been hoping that the nightmare of losing his daughter had been just that—a nightmare. But that didn’t seem to be the case. Havyn was dressed in black.

  John pulled the door to Chuck’s room closed, then moved forward. “I’m sorry for the timing of this, Chuck, but you’ll understand we don’t have a choice.”

  Oh no. What had happened now? How could he deal with anything else disastrous? He lifted his hand and signaled for his pencil and paper.

  Havyn sat in the chair beside his bed. “Granddad, are you sure you can do this?”

  He tilted his chin forward.

  She went to the armoire and pulled out the box that held his writing paper and pencil. She pulled out a clean sheet, closed the lid, and placed the paper on top. She put a pencil in his hand, then sat again, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “Granddad, there’s a man coming to the funeral tomorrow who says he’s Christopher Powell. He came by this morning, but John turned him away not knowing who he was. When John went into town to see Pastor Wilson, the man approached him again.”

  So.

  The secret he’d kept hidden for so long was about to see the light of day. His stomach seemed to take a dive toward his toes. This couldn’t be . . . could it?

  “Granddad, are you all right?” Havyn turned to John. “He’s awfully pale. What if he can’t deal with this?”

  “Naaaaahhhhmm . . .” Chuck shook his head no and lifted his left hand a few inches. Taking the pencil, he wrote on the paper:

  Talk to John . . . private. Now.

  Havyn frowned, but she nodded. “All right.” She stood and walked toward the door. “I’ll keep Whitney and Madysen occupied.”

  He gave a slight nod. The most he could manage. After she’d closed the door, he looked to John and then wrote. It seemed to take forever. Each letter took a lot out of him, but finally he accomplished his thought.

  You need be my voice.

  John’s brow furrowed. “I will do whatever you need me to do.”

  You know?

  “Chris told me a lot. I haven’t told your other granddaughters. Only Havyn. And only that a man claiming to be her father is here. And that he has a second family.”

  Chuck watched John’s face. From the younger man’s hesitant expression, it was a good bet his foreman knew he’d played a part in making Christopher Powell disappear. John had been only a boy back then, and Chuck had never planned on him being involved.

  “He said his second wife died not long ago.”

  Chuck wrote: Look in box.

  No matter how much it hurt, no matter how hard it was, it was time to tell the truth. And his granddaughters just might hate him for it.

  John picked up the writing box and raised his eyebrows.

  Chuck nodded.

  John picked through the box and found the folded letter he’d started. “Is this it?”

  Another nod.

  Read it.

  Chuck closed his eyes as the young man read his horrible confession. Oh, why was this happening now, when he was too weak to defend himself or to convince the girls that he had been in the right? Perhaps this was God’s way of humbling him.

  Completely.

  Chuck wrote again as John folded the pages.

  I need you to read this to them. Now.

  The bedroom fell silent while John looked at the papers in his hands. Havyn sent a prayer heavenward. She sat with her sisters and waited. A glance at Granddad didn’t ease her tension. Whatever it was he had to share with them, it was going to be difficult.

  What she’d already learned was probably only the beginning of the truth. Was she ready for this? Did she have any choice?

  “First, thank you all for being patient with me as I try to speak on your grandfather’s behalf. This isn’t going to be an easy conversation, and the day has already been one of the hardest you’ve ever faced.”

  Whitney spoke up. “It’s all right, John. We appreciate you being Granddad’s voice. But we Powells . . . well, we’re strong. Just be honest with us. We can handle it.”

  If only her sister meant it. As far as Havyn knew, she was the only one aware of Dad
’s other family.

  It was going to be a long night.

  John looked at her and her sisters. “Second, it’s important that I tell you something else that happened today. Around three o’clock this morning, I was headed home from Reynolds’s shipping warehouse when I came upon a fight in the street. A man held a gun on Dr. Kingston and accused him of killing his daughter by giving her fake medicine. That man shot the doctor, who died in the street.”

  Havyn gasped along with her sisters. How horrible! While she didn’t like the man and had her suspicions about what he’d done to contribute to Mama’s death, she hadn’t wanted him dead.

  John gave them a moment to recover. “I’m not sure who will take on Kingston’s patients while they wait for another doctor, but Judas assured me that he would send his own personal physician out to check on Chuck and help him with his recovery.” John looked at Granddad for a long moment and then looked back at the papers in his hand. “Now to the hard part . . .”

  John cleared his throat, unfolded the papers in his hand, and began reading.

  “My dear girls,

  “After my bout of apoplexy, God got ahold of me and I knew I had to confess. So here it is. Melly, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Girls, you too.

  “Christopher was not a good man. I know you all loved him, but he started stealing from me the day after he married you, Melly. Then he had the gall to come to me and ask for help with his debts. This went on for all the years you were married. He’d use the same excuse that I wouldn’t dare let you starve. It worked.

  “By now you know that Christopher was a drunken gambler, but I don’t know if you realized he was a womanizer as well. There’s so many things I should have done to help him, but I didn’t. Instead, I figured out a way to get rid of him.”

  Madysen gasped. Havyn put a hand on her sister’s knee and nodded at John to continue.

  “You see, I found out that he had gotten another woman pregnant. And when the baby was born, it was a boy. I spent all your married years paying for his debts, Melly, and for all his bills since he couldn’t seem to be responsible. I didn’t want my daughter to have to live like that, but I know it was your choice. And I kept my mouth shut.