Changing Seasons

by Christine Sterling

  In fact, he had only been in one saloon before and that landed him in jail.

  The women that were in this saloon weren’t soiled doves, however. They were the men and women that worked on the farms and came to drink their troubles away.

  Marty was down to his last two songs of the evening. The customers couldn’t get enough of the music he was playing. It wasn’t music you could dance to, but it didn’t stop many of them from trying.

  He had learned about Rag time music while in prison. The first time he had heard the choppy rhythm he was hooked. It was an old colored man named Cato, who taught Marty how to play the piano.

  Yuma prison had a band that would play at events, and soon Marty was playing piano along with them. He had never touched an instrument before that, Cato said he had a natural talent.

  You didn’t ask what brought a man to Yuma, but Marty knew Cato had some story. Even though Marty didn’t know much about his acquaintance, Cato taught Marty everything he knew about Rag time music.

  Marty’s favorites were the ragged rhythm tunes of Scott Joplin and Jelly Roll Morton. Then he fell in love with the sound of Bessie Smith from one of the records playing in the main office. He remembered when he first arrived in Cabarker and played the piano at the saloon.

  Copper pulled the wagon behind a saloon and Marty helped him unload. They went inside to deliver the boxes of bootleg whiskey from Arizona.

  If Marty had known what the cargo was, he would have paid his last money to take the stagecoach. He vowed never to drink again after that fateful night.

  He looked around the saloon while Copper settled up with the barkeep. Marty noticed an upright piano along one wall. With a sign that said, “piano player wanted.”

  “Hey,” Marty called to the barkeep. “Can I play your piano?”

  “Be my guest. Last piano player was run out of town and we haven’t been able to find anyone.”

  Marty removed the sign and sat down on the padded bench. He lifted the fallboard, revealing the ivory keys underneath. He tested the keyboard just as Cato taught him. He ran his finger down the entire length of the keys and then played a small scale. The piano was perfectly tuned.

  Then he closed his eyes and let the music take over. The first few keys set the tone and the rest kept pace. His fingers flew over the keyboard and when he was done applause broke out in the establishment.

  “What song was that?” one of the men asked.

  “It was called The Entertainer.”

  “Well it sure as shucks entertained us,” another said.

  “You gonna hire him, Smithy?” Marty heard from across the room. Marty smiled at Copper. “I think you have your piano player,” he said before heading out the back door.

  Marty was hired on the spot. Pay included a room above the saloon, a weekly wage, two meals a day and any tips that he earned.

  Marty let the memory drift as he played those same keys again on the piano. It was his closing song every night. It was also the signal that the bar was closing, so folks finished up their drinks.

  The crowd gave him a hearty round of applause as he finished. They began to shuffle out of the saloon, dropping coins in the jar to show their appreciation.

  “See ya tomorrow night, Marty,” one of the regulars said.

  Marty didn’t want to tell him that he might not be there tomorrow. When everyone had left, Marty picked up the jar. He estimated he made nearly fifteen dollars that night.

  Yes, it was time to go home.

  Silverpines has definitely changed since Marty was last there. He purchased a train ticket and went on a 1,100-mile journey back to New Harbor.

  Smithy was sorry to see him go, as Marty was a big draw for the saloon. But he understood and wished him well on his journey.

  It took Marty nearly fourteen hours on the train to arrive in New Harbor. Once he arrived, he went to the livery to see Jackson about buying horse. There was a man there he didn’t recognize who told him that Jackson, the stable owner, had passed two years prior.

  The new owner helped Marty secure the purchase of a gentle gray mare. She would be perfect for taking him the four hours from New Harbor to Silverpines.

  Since it was late and he didn’t want to ride the woods alone, he asked the man to keep the horse, which he named Dapple, overnight. Marty would secure a hotel and then leave early in the morning.

  As the livery owner put Dapple in an empty stall, Marty saw a horse he thought he recognized. There was no mistaking the large black stallion. “Is that BlackJack?” Marty asked.

  “I don’t know what the name of the horse is, but the owner is Elliot. Used to work as a Pinkerton detective, or something.”

  “Any chance you might know where I can find him?”

  The livery owner shook his head. “Don’t reckon I do. However, I know he stays at the hotel that overlooks the dock.” The man stepped out of the stable and pointed to a tall brick building down the street.

  “Thanks,” Marty said, placing a bill in the man’s hand. If Dawson was in New Harbor, maybe he could get a feel for what had changed in Silverpines since he’d been gone.

  Marty whistled as he headed down the street to the hotel. He rented a room for the night, signing his name to the ledger.

  “Do you know if a Dawson Elliot might be staying here?” he asked.

  “Who wants to know,” a somber voice said behind him. The cock of a gun could be heard in the silence.

  Marty slowly turned and a big grin broke out on his face. “Dawson, it is you.”

  Dawson looked at Marty skeptically. “Do I know you?” he asked, waving the gun.

  “It’s me. Marty Gale.”

  “Marty?” Dawson moved closer. He must have recognized Marty because he released the hammer on his pistol and slid the firearm in the holder under his arm.

  “We thought you had died.” Dawson embraced Marty in a hug, slapping him on the back. “You just disappeared. My agents in Chicago, couldn’t even find you. That is saying something.”

  “It is good to see a familiar face. I was somewhere I couldn’t be contacted.” Marty patted Dawson on the shoulder. “But I’m home now.”

  “Look at you. You look like you haven’t eaten in years. I don’t remember you being so tall either.”

  “You aren’t far from the truth.” Dawson looked at Marty, the way Marty had seen him do to suspects right before interrogating them. If Dawson was going to ask him a question, he thought better of it.

  “Tess is going to be pleased as punch to know you are back.”

  “How is Tess doing?”

  “Fine. Fine. Everyone is fine. We have four children now.”

  “Four?” Tess had just given birth the year he left Silverpines. It really had been five years he had been gone.

  “You remember Charlotte and Oscar? They are nearly five now. And we have two more sons. Connor is three and Matthew is two.”

  “Wow. Four. How is Mrs. Charlotte taking all that?”

  “Happy as a pig in mud. She lives on the farm with us now. She loves having the babies running around underfoot.”

  “Miss Hattie still living there? And Doc Childs?”

  Dawson nodded. “Robert oversees the physicians at the hospital now. They have had two more children since Anna was born.” Dawson laughed as Marty’s eyes grew wide. “I guess you’ve really not communicated with anyone.”

  Marty shook his head. “Just Luther Garrison. He was handling the house. Is there anything else I should know?” Marty looked at him hopefully.

  “Like what?” Dawson asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Has anyone moved out of town that I would remember?”

  Dawson lifted his eyebrow. “Someone like Lacy?”

  “Yeah. Like Lacy Lou. Is she still there?”

  “She goes by simply Lacy now. Said her brothers gave her the name Lacy Lou when she was a child and it stuck.” Dawson scratched his chin. “She dropped the Lou when she started working at the hospital. Darn good nurse too.”r />
  “Is that it?” Marty asked.

  Dawson put his arm around Marty’s shoulder and led him out of the hotel. “How about we go get a fish dinner? My treat. You can ask me all the questions you want and tell me what you have been up to since you left.”

  Chapter 9

  Marty was still fuming from his discussion with Dawson Elliot over dinner. He wasn’t mad at Dawson, just at the news.

  “Let’s water the horses,” Dawson said, stopping at a pond that was the halfway point between New Harbor and Silverpines.

  Marty dismounted and led Dapple over to the water. The horse put her nose in and slurped up large mouthfuls of water.

  “Do you want to stop by the house on your way home? I know Hattie, Tess and everyone else would love to see you.”

  Marty didn’t feel like trying to make conversation. He just wanted to get home and find out why there was a man living at his house.

  “I promise I’ll come out and see them tomorrow.”

  “They would like that.”

  Marty pulled out a bandana and wet it in the pond. He tied it around his neck and clicked to Dapple. Putting one boot in a stirrup, he threw his other leg over the horse and settled down.

  The bandana would keep him cool in the sun. He had one in prison that he would use every day. The temperatures here were nowhere as high as Arizona, but the measure gave him a bit of security.

  They arrived just outside of Silverpines. There they came to a fork in the road. Dawson waved as he took the road towards the farm. Marty raised his hand as he continued on the outskirts of town towards his home.

  He was surprised to see the streets, which were once hardened dirt, grooved with ruts from wagons going back and forth, were now paved smooth. He rode past the cemetery and through the field where the tent village used to be before the fire.

  There were now proper homes, some even multi-level, sitting where those tents once were. The park was different too. The grandstand had been expanded to nearly double its original size. There was also a small building off to the side, which Marty thought might be a tool shed.

  The undertaker’s and coffin maker studio were missing. Even the apothecary and Charlotte’s tea shop were gone. Replaced by a tobacco store and café.

  Everywhere Marty looked he recognized less and less. The town was built up beyond recognition. There were a few funny looking contraptions along the road. They looked like a carriage, but with bigger wheels and instead of reins for the horses, there was a wheel where the driver would sit.

  He’d have to ask Dawson about those the next time he saw him.

  He continued down the road and came to a large structure with a red cross on the front. That must be the hospital, he thought.

  The mercantile had moved to the street in front of the hospital. A bit further down, he noticed a wooden sign that said Pharmacy & Apothecary in black and gold lettering. Next to that was a woman’s clinic. Dr. Chelsea Tory Winters was painted on the window, along with another name that Marty didn’t recognize.

  He quickened his pace to the path he knew went up in the woods and away from town. His breath quickened when he came into view of his house. He could see Lacy Lou hanging up laundry on a line running across the yard.

  She was still as beautiful as ever.

  There was a pen, where he could see that she had a goat and a few chickens. Marty moved around the side of the house, out of her view. He didn’t know what he was preparing to do once he went inside.

  He wanted to throw something, but he would restrain himself. He knew he’d want to fight, but his fighting days were over; he’d learned his lesson. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to make a living if his hands were bruised and battered.

  The barn door was open, so Marty led Dapple into the stable. He stayed on top of her until his eyes became adjusted to the dark. To the left, where Marty used to keep his wagon was another one of those funny machines. To the right there were four stalls. He could see horses in three of them.

  He led Dapple into the last stall and tied her off. Giving her fresh straw and water, he quickly unsaddled her and wiped her down. He would have brushed her, but he didn’t know where the brush was.

  He gave Dapple a quick pat on the rump. She was going to be a good horse. As he passed the other stalls, his heart caught in his throat. There, in the last stall was his horse, Sugar.

  He went over to her, holding his hand for her to sniff. Her big lips caressed his palm. She must have recognized his smell as she started to rock her head back and forth.

  “Shhh, girl,” he said softly. “I’m home.” He put his arms around his horse and tried not to cry in her mane.

  “Ain’t this a touching sight,” a voice said from behind him.

  Marty turned. There was the ugliest man he had ever seen. His hair was dark and greasy. There was a scar traveling below his eye down to his chin. He stood approximately the same height as Marty, but that is where the similarities ended.

  This man was all muscle. Marty could see them bulging from underneath his shirt. In his arm he held the rifle from above the back door. It was the rifle Ma would use to get rid of any bears or wolverines that wandered through the yard.

  Marty didn’t say a word. He simply looked the man up and down. The stranger did the same to him.

  “Who are you?” Marty finally asked. He was dreading the answer, but it was better to hear it from this stranger, than to hear it from Lacy Lou’s lips.

  “Don’t matter who I am. Who are you?” The man spit a stream of tobacco juice on the floor.

  “I lived here with my Ma. I just came back to pick up a few things,” Marty finally said.

  “You did?” The man gave a sharp laugh. “Okay Mr. I used to live here with my Ma. Let’s see what Lacy Lou has to say about that.” He waved the rifle, signaling that Marty should head up to the house.

  Marty cautiously walked in front of him, knowing that any sudden moves could be taken for a threat and the man might shoot. When they arrived at the back porch, the man yelled out for Lacy Lou.

  “Tucker, what is all the noise out here?” Lacy asked, opening the door. Her mouth fell open and she put her fingers up to her lips.

  “Found him hanging out in the barn. Hugging a horse. This man says he used to live here. That you’ve got some of his things. That true, or do I take this polecat out to the woods and get rid of him?”

  “Oh my,” Lacy Lou said, tears starting to form in her eyes. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again.”

  “So, you know this man?” The man called Tucker asked.

  “Yes,” Lacy Lou replied. “He’s my husband.”

  Lacy Lou was in shock.

  She knew that Marty was due to come back. But it was months ago when Mr. Garrison told her that he might come home. Lacy Lou was heartbroken he hadn’t shown up.

  She then had company arrive nearly a month ago to hide at her house. How they found her, she had no idea, but they were waiting for something, and until that something happened, they had no intention of leaving.

  Now he was standing in front of her. His hair was longer. Where he used to wear it short, now it was down to his shoulders. He had lost quite a bit of weight. Not that he had a lot to lose, but he had almost a gaunt appearance to him. His cheeks were sunken in and his eyes were hollowed.

  He looked at her with rage in his eyes. She could only imagine what he must be thinking to find her still at his house, with a strange man to boot!

  “Your husband, eh?” Tucker said. “Well it don’t look like a family reunion.”

  Lacy Lou came off the porch and stepped down in front of him. Her toes sunk into the dirt as she pushed herself up on them to wrap her arms around Marty’s neck. “I’m so happy you are home, husband,” Lacy Lou said, pulling his head down for a kiss.

  She kissed him for all it was worth. She put everything she had into that kiss. All her frustration at him leaving. The fear of not knowing where he was. And now the fear of him being stuck at the house until
whatever these men were waiting for, arrived.

  She felt Marty hesitate a moment before his hands grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

  She broke the kiss and looked in his eyes. They were still hard. She leaned up against him and put her lips next to his ear. “Play along. Our lives depend on it.”

  Marty nodded his understanding and Lacy Lou released him. She took his hand and led him inside the cabin, with Tucker bringing up the rear.

  Lacy stopped in the sitting room. There was a man laying on the settee and another draped over an overstuffed chair.

  “Put your feet down, Brandt,” Lacy Lou said knocking his boots to the floor.

  “What is all the fuss about, Little Sister?” said the man lying on the settee. He glanced at Marty and his eyes opened wide.

  “Well I’ll be,” he said, sitting upright. “Two. Three. Seven. Six. I never thought I’d see you again.”

  Chapter 10

  Marty dug through the box of clothing Lacy Lou had brought down from the attic. He found a pair of clean pants and a shirt and threw them on a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom.

  Marty glared at her. She looked so innocent with her hair curled around her face and her beautiful lips in a pout. How could he have been so stupid.

  “The Deevers? Really Lacy Lou. I didn’t expect that you would be living here with Yancy Deever, of all people.

  “I don’t know how they found me. Especially after all this time.” She worried her hands before wiping them on her skirt.

  “I dunno. Maybe they asked about a kind hearted saloon owner who took in a young girl and the trail led here.” Marty pulled his sock off at the toe and slammed it on the bedding.

  “Marty, honestly, I didn’t know they were coming here. They are waiting for something or someone and then they’ll be gone.”

  “Have you been able to get out of the house at all?”

  Lacy Lou nodded. “Tucker takes me to work and waits for me outside until I’m done. I had to move to the night shift, so no one suspected anything. And that way it was dark when I arrive and leave.”