Always, Wyeth

by Reina Torres

  Olivia clucked like the mother hen she was born to be. “I still don’t understand what happened.” She shook her head in a slow, sad arc. “Levi was up long after midnight pondering the issue.”

  Delia reached out her hand and set it on Olivia’s. “Levi is a good and fair man. He’ll get to the truth of the matter and make the right decision. I just find it hard to believe that Wyeth would not only take a drink of alcohol, but the very idea of him becoming drunk and offending a young woman? That is very out of character for him.”

  Ransom gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, she answered his support with a touch of her own, reaching her hand across to her shoulder to brush against his fingers. It was a habit for them to touch, soothing each other’s worries with gentle reminders of how much the other was loved.

  Olivia sighed. “Very out of character. I wish you had come to the social,” she brightened her smile. “The room was teaming with friends and strangers alike.”

  Ransom took hold of a chair and brought it up beside the sofa. He was nearly seated when Levi walked in the room.

  The Station Manager strode into the room and took Ransom’s hand in a strong clasp and shook. “Good to see you, son.”

  “Good to see you, sir.” They all laughed at the formal address.

  “And you!” Levi side-stepped his old employee and braced his hand on the carved-wooden back of the sofa to press a warm kiss on Delia’s cheek. “You look quite lovely, Dell. I take it Ransom has been taking good care of you?”

  Delia laughed. “Of course! We were just apologizing to Olivia for missing the social last night. My brother Brom, was expected back but he was delayed so we stayed to help at the station.”

  When she finished her comment, a pretty blush painted her cheeks and Ransom took her hand securely in his.

  Olivia and Levi, married for quite some time and possessed of a like mind, turned to look at each other and then back at the young couple.

  Ransom was the first to speak again. “Brom has decided to come home and work at the station with his father. That will give me the ability to work on building a house here in Three Rivers.”

  The young couple watched with more than a smile as Olivia grabbed a hold of Levi’s hand in both of hers and dragged it into her lap.

  “I’d like to have at least two rooms of the house built before the snows set in. I want Delia living safely in town when her time comes.”

  The McCains were surprised when Levi was the first to react. Up on his feet, he drew Delia up from the sofa and into a gentle embrace. “Frank must be beside himself with joy!”

  Delia nodded as much as she could. “Papa is looking forward to teaching the baby to ride.”

  Olivia tugged on her husband’s sleeve and made him release Delia into her embrace. “You know he’ll have all of the riders to compete with for that honor.”

  Delia looked up at her husband and they could all see the pride and love in her eyes. “We are truly blessed.”

  Ransom lifted a hand to touch her rosy cheek. “And I hope the baby is only the first of many.”

  “Many?” Delia’s laughter was sweet and filled with shock. “I will have my worries caring for one.”

  Ransom tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her slender form. “No matter what, Dell, we’ll take care of things together.” He looked back at Olivia and Levi. “I hope you’ll bear with all of our questions until we have our little one.”

  Delia nudged his arm. “And those questions that come after.”

  Olivia clapped her hands together. “Anything,” she grinned, “it’s been so long since Anna was small enough to hold in my arms. We’ll have plenty of time during the winter to sew for the baby.”

  Levi gave the young couple a thankful smile. “Now we have something to look forward to, after we get things settled about Wyeth.”

  Tillie felt a weight settle on the bed beside her. She kept her eyes closed, waiting to see who it was. No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t expect her father to see to her. He’d never been much for affection or worry about her emotions. Now, she could only wait to hear what Mademoiselle had to say about the events of the night before.

  A moment later her eyes opened as she felt a gentle hand smooth her hair from her face. “Mademoiselle?”

  Instead of the cold, distant face she had come to expect from the beginning of their relationship, she beheld a sympathetic curve to the other woman’s lips. “Would you like me to have Mr. Poston prepare a tray for you?”

  The idea of food turned her stomach. Grasping the corner of her blanket in her hands, she shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  Silence fell between them for a moment as Tillie looked toward the window and saw that the sun was up and full on the ground.

  “What do you think will happen?” She looked up at her companion. “Do you think Wyeth will be in trouble?”

  Mademoiselle hesitated and then gave her a wan smile. The action alone gave way to dread. “Saul,” she hesitated and swallowed, “Mr. Clement said that Russell, Majors, & Waddell have strict rules for their riders. Consuming alcohol alone is grounds for him to lose his job, but fighting-”

  “But he wasn’t fighting.” Tillie sat up, pulling her elbow under her side to look up at her companion. “He wasn’t!”

  Mademoiselle diverted her gaze for a moment. “He had words with the Captain and the two nearly came to blows outside the social.”

  “Nearly,” she repeated the word, “but they didn’t fight.” Guilt flooded through her heart. “It was because of me.” Tillie threw back her covers and struggled to untangle her legs from the sheets and set them on the floor. “Please, Mademoiselle, help me.”

  The other woman stood up from the bed and looked at her young charge. “Help? With what?”

  Tillie was busy pulling out her garments from the wardrobe. “I need to get dressed.”

  Mademoiselle paused for a moment and then moved to take Tillie’s hands in her own. “You should stay here,” she gave the younger woman’s hands a warm squeeze, “you shouldn’t involve yourself.”

  Tillie looked up into her worried eyes. “Yes, I should.”

  The meeting took place in the church. Levi had originally thought to have the discussion in the bunkhouse but the small room didn’t have enough room for chairs, and the church allowed for more fresh air.

  And more prying eyes.

  Loitering outside of the depot, Pierson watched as Wyeth walked across the street toward the church. “Well look at you,” he laughed and took a long drag on his cigar, “you’re not laughing anymore, hmm?”

  “Something interesting, Pierson?”

  He managed to keep his grin on his face, but found a way to temper the smug nature of it before he turned to look at Saul. “You’ve been coming back more than usual to our little town. You plannin’ on moving here?”

  Saul shrugged. “I’m not gettin’ any younger.” He rolled his shoulders back to ease the ache from the chill in the air. “I find myself uninterested in living out the rest of my days without someone to share them with.”

  “And you think that stuck up-”

  “You keep your thoughts to yourself.” Saul’s voice crackled with warning. “You weren’t always like this, Reuben. I just wish I knew what soured your disposition. It must have been something mighty painful to twist you up like this.”

  Pierson didn’t answer, but his mouth had flattened into a thin pale line.

  Saul shrugged. “I’ll help you get things ready for the stage if you like.”

  Shrugging, Pierson took another puff of his cigar. “Suit yourself.”

  Wyeth sat in front of the assembled group, barely able to keep his head up. Even with the coffee and the dry toast his head ached as much as his belly.

  “Mr. Bowles?”

  He turned to look in the direction of the voice and saw Captain Merrick looking at him with cool regard. “Yes, sir?”

  “You didn’t answer Mr. Hawkins.”

  Wyeth could
n’t meet Levi’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question.”

  “After effects of the alcohol you consumed last night?”

  Wyeth knew that the edge of anger in the man’s voice wasn’t about the drinking. If there is one thing he remembered with absolute clarity, it was the pain in Tillie’s eyes. He’d hurt her.

  “Mr. Bowles!”

  Shaking his head, Wyeth looked up at the captain. “I didn’t drink any alcohol last night.” His hand fisted against his knee. “All I had to drink was that horrible punch at the refreshment table.” He gave an involuntary shudder. “I still had the taste in my mouth this morning.”

  Levi’s brow was creased in confusion. “There was tea served last night. We used quite a bit of the reserve from the ice house. We didn’t have punch.”

  “It wasn’t tea, none that I’ve ever tasted. And if it’s offered to me again,” he scratched his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “I wouldn’t have any.” Lifting a hand, he rubbed the skin under his nose. “It didn’t smell good.”

  Levi’s long sigh turned Wyeth’s head. “Then why did you drink it?”

  There really wasn’t a good answer to the question. Not with the Captain sitting there. Wyeth knew he’d done something stupid but he wasn’t going to drag Tillie into the mess by explaining that he’d been so tied up in knots by Miss Ottille Weston that he hadn’t done more than pick up the cup and dump its contents into his mouth.

  The inside of Wyeth’s head sounded like a multitude of hammers pounding on the smithy’s anvil, the sensations alone were enough to drown out a lot of the voices in the room, but it wasn’t their voices that turned his head. The open doorway clouded over, shadows sweeping in to take some of the bright light off of the floorboards. He almost muttered a prayer of thanks for the relief alone, but a moment later, when his eyes had adjusted he was able to see what had changed the light.

  Two women stood outside the church. Two women silhouetted in the bright light of day. One woman he couldn’t put a name to if his life depended on it. The other stole his breath away. He opened his mouth to apologize, to stumble over the words that he knew weren’t going to be enough to explain what he’d done. He still didn’t understand it himself.

  He got to his feet, and when he did manage to speak, his voice was full of remorse. “Tillie.”

  He had hoped to avoid her presence. He had little pride left as it was, but he didn’t want Tillie to hate him even more. Watching his public humiliation would only add to her ill-feelings toward him.

  Levi and the captain turned around on their pew. The captain stood and moved to talk to Tillie, but she waved him back.

  The captain spoke to her, soft enough that Wyeth couldn’t hear the words. He took the pain like a hoof to his middle, remaining on his feet.

  “No,” Tillie’s reply was clear, “my father doesn’t know I’m here. I have my reasons to be here.”

  “Please, Miss Weston,” the Captain asked her again, “let me walk you back to the boarding house.”

  Tillie didn’t answer. Instead, she skirted her way around the captain and walked down to the second row of pews and settled her skirts on the narrow seat. That’s when all eyes in the room turned to the other woman who had entered the church at the same time.

  She was unfamiliar to Wyeth. No, that wasn’t quite right. He had a vague recollection of her, but there was something about her appearance that made it difficult to remember her name. Or maybe, he pressed his fingers to his aching temple, he just couldn’t remember her through the wild pain pulsing in his skull.

  Ever the gentleman, and filled with his customary hospitality, Levi gave the young woman a smile. “May I help you, Miss…”

  “Charity.” She said the word softly, her gaze passing over the faces of the assembled townsfolk as if she expected to have trouble. “My folks named me Charity.”

  Levi nodded. “Welcome, Miss Charity. We’re not having services this morning. Rather, we’re holding a meeting.”

  “I know,” she answered back, and Wyeth imagined that she was struggling to hold onto her courage, “I’m here to help.”

  Tillie heard the woman speak, and she turned to look at her. Clothed in a dress that hadn’t been in style for nearly a decade, the other woman looked to be about her age, and their hair held the same dark luster. That was where the resemblance ended. Where Tillie was more rounded in places, Charity was willowy with graceful limbs. Looking into Charity’s startling emerald green eyes, Tillie could only see how her own plain brown must be so ordinary compared to the natural beauty of the woman before her.

  As Levi walked Charity to the front of the room and someone brought a chair forward for her sit in, Tillie looked at Wyeth and tried to discern what his connection to Charity just might be.

  Had she lost Wyeth’s interest in favor of this startlingly beautiful woman?

  Charity drew her shawl around her shoulders and nodded at Levi. “You’re Mr. Hawkins from the Livery.”

  Levi nodded. “And this is Captain Merrick.”

  She smiled. “Everyone knows the Captain.”

  Soft laughter rolled through the room as Levi replied. “Quite right.” When the room settled down, Levi started in. “Miss Charity, how… I mean… why-”

  “I work at the Crystal Dawn.” At her words, a number of men in the room let out surprised ‘Ahs.’ “We weren’t part of the social last night. Laiden doesn’t like it when we mix with folks and not get paid for it.”

  She looked away from the men and Tillie tried to swallow the knot in her throat.

  “I know that Laiden expected us to stay in our rooms on the second floor, but I wanted to watch the dancing and snuck out. Folks couldn’t see me where I was standing, not that anyone was thinking of looking up when all the fun was on the main floor of the saloon.”

  Charity turned and looked at Wyeth. “I didn’t see what was happening until it was too late.” She turned to look at Levi and grimaced. “There were so many people standing around. Half the time there seemed to be too many arms and legs for the number of bodies on the main floor. Still, I remembered Wyeth and his friend, Luke. They helped me cart my trunk from the stage to the Crystal Dawn when I came to Three Rivers to work. So, I saw Wyeth against the wall, but I also saw someone pouring something into his glass.” She turned back to Wyeth. and Tillie felt for the other young woman. Her eyes were filled with worry and that alone earned Tillie’s gratitude.

  A rush of relief was also swimming through Tillie’s heart. She heard Levi and the Captain as they talked through the new information and they came to the same conclusion that she had. Someone had poured alcohol in Wyeth’s glass.

  “You mean to tell me,” a voice blurted out from the back of the room, “that the boy couldn’t tell what he was drinking? I find that hard to believe.”

  Wyeth spoke up then, leaning forward in his chair. “I’ve never had a drink before. My folks never approved of the habit and I made a promise to Russell, Majors, & Waddell, not to mention the Hawkins family. I respect Levi too much to drink. If I’d known,” he blew out a frustrated breath, and Tillie wanted to say something to show her support, “I wouldn’t have done it. As it is, I feel like a complete fool. I let my mind wander and didn’t even think.”

  “Sounds like you should let him go while you can, Hawkins.” Mr. Estes leaned back in his chair, rocking it on its back legs. “You don’t need a fool working for you. Your express service has enough trouble the way it is.” The Express had never been completely accepted by the town. Most understood what the boys were about, but some saw a bunch of young man rushing along the outside of the town as a nuisance at best and a danger as worst. Estes had been one of the loudest detractors of the enterprise. Luckily, he spent most of his time at his mine claim, but he’d likely had enough to drink at Benders the night before and ended up sleeping in town. It was just Wyeth’s luck that he had remained in town to sit in on the discussion.

  Wyeth looked away from the older man. The vitriol in
his tone cut deep.

  He wanted to avoid the guilt that was rising up within him like flood waters, but turning from Estes set his eyes on Tillie.

  She looked like a statue of an angel sitting there. The sunlight through the windows behind her surrounded her with a golden light. Wyeth swallowed and wished he could talk to her, beg her forgiveness.

  But who was he to do that? Hadn’t he already made things impossible between them?

  Drunk in full view of the town.

  Picking a fight with Captain Merrick, the only man other than Levi and Mr. O’Neal that folks held in the highest regard.

  Drunk and foolish. Not something to recommend himself to a woman, let alone her father.

  Wyeth heard Mr. Estes prattle on for a bit, until the soles of his worn boots squeaked against the back of a pew.

  That’s when the Captain spoke up. “Put your feet down, Estes, and shut your mouth.”

  The older man didn’t even look contrite as he set one boot and then the other down on the floor, the two legs of his chair followed suit a moment later. The older man folded his arms across his narrow chest and glared at the Captain. Even Mr. Estes, who had a negative opinion about everything listened to the Captain without arguments.

  Wyeth saw the disappointment in Tillie’s eyes as he turned his head away. Still, he had to do it. If it had only been the comments of Tillie’s companion, he might have been able to argue against reason and allow himself to hope, but he’d seen first-hand the smiles that she’d given the Captain. He’d watched the other man dote on her, dance with her, the deference his own men gave to the pretty young woman.

  He was only fooling himself to think that he’d have a chance to pledge his troth to the woman who had turned his whole world upside down with a single smile.

  The realization wasn’t new. He’d had similar arguments with himself since he’d spoken to Mademoiselle that fateful day. Still, he felt the loss fresh as if he’d lost his focus standing in the corral and a green-broke filly had kicked him full in the chest. He couldn’t breathe.

  “Mr. Bowles?”