by April Hill
She still woke up at least once or twice each night, trembling with fear. Sometimes it was the wind, or a branch tapping against a window. The cabin often creaked at night–settling, Will called it. Occasionally a raccoon or an opossum scuttled over the roof, or a seed cone dropped from the tall lodgepole pine behind the house. But Cathy was always aware that any of these small, innocuous sounds could just as well be a footstep, or someone tampering with a window or door latch. Jack had always been a better thief than he had a gambler, and stealth was one of his talents.
He wasn’t the kind to come for her openly, or in the daylight, or in any other situation where there was the slightest danger of his being observed. No, Jack would wait until she was alone and defenseless, do what he wanted to do, and be gone for days or weeks before her body was discovered. What happened would be slow, and quiet, and terrible.
But now, when she thought about Jack, it was no longer just her own safety that concerned her. He had always told her that courage was for idiots, and remembered reading him an article in the newspaper about a Union soldier who had been awarded the country’s highest honor for bravery, fifteen years after his death. “That just proves my point, darlin’,” he’d remarked with a bitter laugh. “That’s what a brave man leaves behind, when the dust settles–a few cheap medals, a widow, and maybe a couple of snivelin’ brats. Courage is a waste of time. All a truly clever man needs is his wits, and something to bargain with–something his enemy cares about, and he doesn’t.”
All of which told Cathy that Jack wouldn’t hesitate to use–or hurt–anyone who tried to get between him and his vengeance. Even an innocent child. It also told her that her hope that Jack would simply forget was pure fantasy. Jack was coming. And before he got here, she had to be gone–somehow. But to do that, she would need help.
* * * *
Two days later, as if Heaven had heard and answered her prayer, help arrived. She was trying once again, to make a pan of edible biscuits when she glanced out the front window and noticed a man walk through the gate and into in the yard, leading a horse. He was beardless, his hair was blond and straight, and his manner of dress was distinctly unusual, particularly in this part of the country. He wore a dark frock coat with a wide-brimmed black felt hat, and his clean white shirt sported ruffles down the front. His tall black boots were expensive, and polished to a high shine. Cathy hadn’t seen a man so elegantly turned out since Denver, and she had known enough professional gamblers in her life to know how this handsome visitor probably made his living. She stepped out onto the porch to greet him, a bit nervous about speaking to a stranger, but there was something about this one that seemed vaguely familiar.
“Good morning,” she called from the porch. The man tipped his hat, dropped the animal’s reins on the ground, and approached the porch.
“Good day to you, Ma’am. If it’s no trouble. I’d appreciate it if you’d allow my horse to drink from your trough. We’ve had a long trip, and I’m afraid the two of us are about done in.”
“Of course,” she replied. “Help yourself. There’s a dipper hanging on that tree, there, on a nail, if you’re thirsty.”
“Thank you, kindly, Ma’am. And one more thing, if you don’t mind my asking. Is Will Cameron still about, or have he and the children moved on?”
“You know my husband?” she asked.
The stranger cocked an eyebrow. “Husband? Will has finally taken himself a new wife? Well, now I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cameron, and I hope my being shocked didn’t offend you. Please accept my apologies, along with my best wishes. Will’s a lucky man. I know your husband well, actually. We served in the army of the Cumberland together–a few years back, of course. I come by to visit every now and then, when I get this far north. When I saw you, I just assumed poor Will had finally seen the error of his ways and gone west or east. To my way of thinking, either direction would be an improvement.”
Cathy laughed. “No, this is still his place, and he still thinks the Wyoming Territory is heaven on Earth.”
“Well, now, I’m pleased to hear that you seem to agree with my assessment of the place. If I may say so, most intelligent, considerate men–and I include myself in that category, of course–wouldn’t think of bringing a lovely, obviously well-educated lady like yourself out here onto this godforsaken prairie. Will’s been like a brother to me, and I’d give my life for him in the blink of an eye, but if you’ll pardon me for saying it, he’s never had the sense God gave a fence post about how to treat a beautiful woman.”
“He and Gideon are out looking for strays, and the children are about somewhere, but I’m sure they’ll all be back soon,” she said, flushing slightly at his openly flirtatious manner. “Won’t you come in, Mr …?”
“It’s Parsons, Mrs. Cameron. Daniel Patrick Parsons. And I’d be delighted to accept your kind invitation. I’ll just take my horse down to the barn after I’ve watered him, if it’s all right with you.”
“Please, do,” Cathy said. When he walked away toward the barn, Cathy dashed inside, dusted the spatters of flour from her dress and from the tip of her nose, and glanced in the mirror to straighten her hair. She tidied the kitchen quickly, and shoved her unfinished biscuit dough into the cupboard. A few moments later, there was a tap at the door, and when she opened it, Daniel Parsons stood on the porch, his pale blond hair slicked back. He was holding his hat in one hand, and a small bouquet of fall wildflowers in the other.
“I imagine picking a bouquet for a lady from behind her own barn isn’t the most mannerly thing to do,” he said with a small bow. “But I was a little short on housewarming gifts.” When he smiled, his brown eyes twinkled merrily.
“The flowers are lovely,” she said.
He lifted her hand, bent down, and kissed it. “Nowhere lovely enough, I’m afraid.”
Daniel Parsons’ courtly mannerisms were transparently self-serving, of course, but it had been a long time since Cathy had been complimented so lavishly by a man, and as she hung up his hat and coat, it was difficult to conceal her pleasure.
“Well, I can certainly see the woman’s touch,” he remarked. “Will’s as orderly a man as ever lived, but he’s not the sort to know how to make a home comfortable and warm, like this. He always felt that wiping his boots before he came in was enough. You have a real talent at homemaking, Mrs. Cameron. The curtains are especially pretty. I’m assuming you sewed them, yourself?”
Cathy shook her head, grateful to finally be able to interrupt the flow of insincere and misdirected flattery. His manner was as charming as his compliments, but it hadn’t escaped her notice that Daniel Parsons had already dropped at least a half-dozen less than subtle complaints about his “good friend,” Will.
“If you assume that, you would be very much mistaken,” Cathy told him, laughing. “Hannah made every curtain in the house. She sews a beautiful hand, doesn’t she? I believe you’ll find that everything pretty or comfortable in the entire house is Hannah’s doing, along with everything good–or safe–to eat. I’m afraid I’m not a homemaker, at all, though I am trying to learn, with Hannah’s help.”
Daniel Parsons’ manner may have been insincere, but his conversation was witty, and his stories amusing, and by the time Will returned, Cathy and he were chatting like old friends.
“Will, you scoundrel!” Parsons cried, jumping up to embrace Will as came in the door. “Imagine my surprise when I found you’d taken yourself a wife. And without so much as inviting me to the wedding.”
“It was kind of sudden, Daniel,” Will said, glancing over at Cathy. “How’ve you been?”
“Right as rain, Will boy, right as rain. And how are Hannah and young Caleb? Having just spent time in the company of your beautiful bride, I don’t need to inquire as to your own good spirits.”
“The children are fine,” Will replied, a bit curtly. “We passed them when we rode in, down by the creek. Gideon’s gone to round them up. They’ll be real glad to see you again. Hannah asks about you al
l the time.”
And when Gideon returned with the children, it was clear that Will was right. When Hannah set eyes on Daniel Parsons, the change in her mood was swift, and astonishing.
“That’s Daniel for you,” Will said, when Cathy remarked on Hannah’s sudden cheerfulness. “I’ve yet to meet a woman he couldn’t charm, no matter how old she was.”
“He does have a way about him,” she agreed. “He even brought me flowers.”
“Probably stole them,” Will observed a bit grumpily.
Despite herself, Cathy laughed. “From in back of the barn, in fact.”
Will smiled. “Problem is, I’m afraid Daniel’s going to charm himself into real trouble, someday. Still, he’s as good a man as there is, so long as he’s not holding a deck of cards. He saved my life at Chickamauga–shoved me down and took the rifle ball meant for me in his own shoulder. It still bothers him now and them–professionally.” He laughed softly.
Overhearing the conversation, Daniel joined in, seemingly unoffended by what he’d heard.
He clapped Will on the shoulder. “I’m afraid your husband doesn’t approve of my profession, Mrs. Cameron,” he said, laughing
“And what might that be?” Cathy asked sweetly–and unnecessarily.
“While I do regard myself as a world traveler and a keen observer of human nature,” Daniel explained, smiling broadly, “I generally refer to my true profession as a Speculator in Games and Diversions,’” he said. “It’s a title I came up with, myself, to–”
Will cut him off. “He’s a gambler, Cathy, and his ‘profession’ is going to get his damned head blown off, someday.”
Daniel sighed. “Ah, well, all good things must come to an end, mustn’t they?”
At this point, Gideon wandered in, and guffawed loudly. “They’re gonna come to end a danged sight faster if you keep messing with other fellas’ wives, and dealin’ from the bottom of the deck like you do,” he observed.
“Evening the odds, my friend,” Daniel said cheerfully. “Just evening the odds.” He winked at Cathy again. “I’m afraid that Gideon, here, isn’t as good a poker player as he likes to think. He’s hoping to make his losses back from me this trip. In any case, this discussion is probably boring you, and I just realized that I forgot something in the barn. If you’ll all excuse me for a minute, I’ll be back shortly.” With that, he disappeared out the front door.
Gideon grinned. “Always liked that boy, but a man would be a damn fool to let him within a mile of his woman or growed-up daughter.”
The door opened, and Daniel came back in, carrying a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. “I hope you’ll forgive the poor wrapping, Mrs. Cameron,” he said, handing the parcel to her. “A small token gift for your wedding.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But you didn’t need to …”
“Of course, I did. Even when I purchased it, I believe I knew, deep down, that I was going to meet a lady who needed something beautiful to touch.”
“More likely you figured you’d meet up with one who needed some convincing,” Gideon suggested.
Cathy opened the gift carefully, and found a small mahogany box painted with delicate flowers, and when she lifted the lid, a familiar melody began to play.
“Mozart!” she cried with delight. When the last lilting notes of the familiar minuet came to an end, the delicate box began a second melody, its softly muted tones filling the room with a surprising volume. “Thank you,” Cathy breathed. “It’s lovely.”
“It plays three pieces, and then repeats,” Daniel explained, pointing to the small brass plate inside the lid that listed the melodies. Impulsively, Cathy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He bowed deeply, and turned to Cameron.
“Since I missed the wedding, have I your permission to dance with the bride, my friend?”
Without waiting for a reply, Daniel took the box from Cathy, rewound it, and set it on the table. And then, he took Cathy in his arms.
As the music began again, Hannah, who had been watching from across the room, leapt to her feet, overturning the checkerboard that Caleb was setting up. Without a word to anyone, she climbed up to the loft and disappeared. Caleb yelled after her, and Cathy opened her mouth to say something, but it was too late. The trap door at the top of the ladder slammed shut.
Gideon lit his pipe. “Women,” he growled.
The little music box was still playing, so after Hannah left, Daniel took Cathy’s hand in his and resumed their interrupted dance. While Will and Gideon sat at the table and watched, the couple swept around the room three times, laughing. Moments later, Will abruptly pushed back his chair, and stood up. “I have to take care of the stock,” he said. “Call me when supper’s ready.” With that, he strode out of the cabin, and into the yard.
Cathy stopped dancing. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Parsons.”
“Daniel will do,” he smiled.
“Well, Daniel, if you’ll excuse me for just a moment, I just remembered something I wanted to ask my husband. I’ll be back in just a minute.”
“Certainly,” he said, and although he didn’t actually raise an eyebrow, Cathy could tell that their guest had seen something pass between her and Will. She smiled again, and walked quickly to the barn, where Will was pitching hay to the horses.
“That was very rude, “ she said sharply. “Your friend was simply trying to be pleasant.”
He didn’t stop, or look back at her. “It didn’t look like you and my friend needed me around,” he said.
Cathy ignored the remark, more concerned about tonight’s sleeping arrangements than Will’s inexplicable behavior. “We need to talk about where he’s going to sleep.”
“He usually shares my room, when–” He stopped, apparently recognizing the problem. “Any ideas, Mrs. Cameron?”
She thought for a moment, frowning. “He’ll have to take the cot. That’s all there is to it. I’m not going to let him see the … well, the way we are.”
“And how are we?” Will asked, obviously angry.
“Why are you being so disagreeable about this?” she demanded.
“Because I feel disagreeable, that’s why,” he grumbled. “And another thing, while I’m being disagreeable, the next time you take it on yourself to tell a pack of lies to an old friend without asking me about it, I may just feel like taking down your britches and blistering your lying rump in front of him and whoever else you’ve invited to the damned tea party!”
“My God!” Cathy cried, beginning to laugh. “You’re jealous! Of your own best friend!”
Will dropped the pitchfork, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her across his hip.
“If you do this, I’ll scream,” she threatened coolly. “Everyone in the cabin will hear me.”
“You’re the one trying to pretend we’re something we’re not,” he growled. “I’m beginning to think it’s high time we stopped playacting.” He pushed her skirt up and slipped his free hand under her drawers, ready to proceed. Unable to look back, Cathy sensed that he was hesitating, and when his fingers moved haltingly up her bare thigh and came to rest on the soft curve of her bottom, she smiled to herself. This was one spanking that wasn’t going to happen.
A moment later, swearing with frustration, he released her.
“I’ll sleep in the bedroom, tonight,” she murmured, blushing as she attempted to smooth her skirts. “It’s just for tonight.”
Will leaned down and picked up the pitchfork. “Do what you want.” With that, he went back to work.
By the time Cathy returned to the cabin, Daniel and Caleb were deeply involved in a game of checkers. She ducked behind the curtain that hid her narrow cot, collected her personal belongings, and bundled everything into her apron. With that done, she took a few moments to straighten the bed, fluff the pillow, and put on a fresh pillowslip. Walking quickly to the bedroom, she dumped her things from her gathered apron into the bottom drawer of Will’s dresser. She was about to close the drawer again when
she noticed a wrapped parcel, covered in yellowing tissue. Opening the frail wrapping carefully, she discovered several items of women’s clothing–two well-worn but still pretty flowered nightgowns, and a ruffled petticoat. Maddie’s she realized, sadly. Tucked between the two gowns was a small bunch of dried, pressed flowers–the same kind Daniel had picked for her, just hours earlier. Very gently, Cathy touched the faded bouquet with the tips of her fingers. Finding Maddie’s things preserved in this manner had surprised her. She had never thought of Will Cameron as the sort of man to keep souvenirs or mementos.
Placing the gowns and the flowers back where she’d found them, she returned to the kitchen, where Daniel was telling an enthralled Caleb a long, complicated tale about an encounter he’d had with an irate bear, an exploit in which Daniel had–of course–demonstrated incredible courage, and emerged the victor.
Will came back to the cabin shortly thereafter, and Hannah emerged just long enough to help get supper on the table before complaining of a headache and returning to the loft. After Caleb went up to bed, Cathy pretended to sew, and the men talked. The remainder of the evening was pleasant enough, but mildly tense, and Cathy was relieved when their guest stretched his arms, yawned, and declared himself ready to retire. They all exchanged polite goodnights, and after the three men had gone off to bed, Cathy gathered up the plates and coffee cups, She stood at the sink, washing and rinsing each plate several times, until she was fairly certain that Will was in bed and hopefully, asleep. When she finally entered the bedroom, she was relieved to see that he was under the covers, and still. She stood in the corner with her back to the bed long enough to and change quickly into her nightgown, and then sat nervously on the edge of the bed to unpin her hair, let it down and brush it. With that chore completed, she slipped into bed, keeping as far to her side as she could, then lay there, stiff as a board, listening to Will’s breathing.
