A Windswept Promise

by Brandi Boddie

  Joe put an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “It just ain’t like you to hang back. Becoming your own man ain’t easy, but the Lord knows you’ve proven yourself. You got a house and some land to offer now. You deserve some respect. Now all you have to do is ask for it.” He slapped Dusty on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get this wagon back in case Mabrey needs it later.”

  Before leaving, Dusty glanced again at the newly built house. Proof. Yes, maybe that’s what he’d needed. And now he had some. Would it be enough?

  One month, and no word from Dusty. Sophie wondered if her letters reached him. David told her he gave the letters to Joe to deliver each time he saw the assistant foreman in town. Mr. Emmers struck her as an honest man, so he wasn’t a likely cause for Dusty not responding.

  Maybe Dusty just didn’t open her letters. She remembered how cold he was at the wedding, and so completely unmoved when she ran after him to declare her love. How could she blame him for wanting to leave her standing in the road outside the church? She had treated him as a plaything for so long that he just grew tired of her games.

  It looked like she was going to have to start thinking of life without him. Each time she considered the prospect, her stomach gave her such a sick feeling as Mrs. Hooper’s oyster stuffing never could.

  She went to town with her family on the second Saturday of October, carrying the fifth letter to Dusty in the pocket of her wool coat. Winter was coming. The sky was gray and the grass had since dried into a brown crust, signaling the end of warm, vibrant life.

  Sophie felt just as withered as she walked along the sidewalk past Linda’s seamstress shop and the general store. People treated her differently since the wedding scandal. Thankfully, Chad had taken a job at a bank in Philadelphia, leaving Assurance for good. Still, citizens gave her odd looks from across the street, knowing glances when they thought she couldn’t see. Not only that, the fact that her petition gained women the right to vote in school elections further contributed to her tarnished reputation. After all, fewer people had signed the petition than not.

  She pretended not to hear a boy snicker at her when she walked past.

  At the far end of the square, Sophie caught sight of a tall, thin man going into the Arthurs’ shoe store. Not being able to distinguish his face, she saw the hat he wore. It looked similar to Dusty’s.

  Her steps faltered. Could she go inside the store and talk to him? Once he saw her, would he walk away and leave her standing speechless again? More risk was in not finding out. She didn’t know when the chance would come again where the two of them would be in town at the same time.

  She quickened her pace until she arrived at the door’s threshold. He stood at the counter while the Reverend’s wife, Marissa, wrote something down in a ledger book. Sophie strained to see his profile under the broad brim of his hat. The long nose didn’t belong to Dusty.

  The man turned and she saw that it was just someone else wearing a tan Stetson. He excused himself as he left the store as quickly as he arrived.

  “Hello, Sophie,” Marissa greeted her from the counter. “Can I help you?”

  It occurred to her that she was blocking the doorway, but Sophie was uneasy about entering the store. “Actually, I thought I recognized that man, but I was wrong.”

  “Mr. Fontaine was here to check on an order he placed earlier. Who were you looking for?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have come in.” Sophie pivoted to leave when a question pressed at the forefront of her mind. She stopped, hand on the door. “How did you stand it, Marissa?”

  “Stand what?” Marissa came from behind the register to go to the window. She adjusted a sign.

  “Being an . . . an outcast. Before you married Reverend Winford, people treated you bad.” Sophie couldn’t look at her when she talked, knowing full well that she was one of those people.

  Marissa finished straightening the sign. “I still get looks and whispers, even from a few church members. Eventually you come to accept that some people will never change their minds about you.”

  “Marissa, I’m sorry for the things I said to you before when you worked at the saloon.”

  The Reverend’s wife studied her. “That was more than a year ago. I’ve since forgiven you. Why are you bringing it up now?”

  Sophie’s voice broke. “I know now what it feels like. To be shunned, I mean. Everyone knows what happened at the botched wedding, but I just couldn’t go through with it.” A hot tear trickled down her cheek. “I hurt so many people that day when I waited too long to choose Dusty. Now he’s not here, either.”

  Marissa continued to listen, her face calm and without judgment. Embarrassed at the emotions she could barely keep under control, Sophie wiped the tear from her face before she could break into sobs. “I’m not asking for words of comfort.”

  “It’s alright, Sophie. You can talk to me.”

  “You’re the only one that understands.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Marissa pointed up the street. “I think I see Dusty going into the bank.”

  Sophie came closer to the window and stood on tiptoe to see over a shoe display. This time it was Dusty. She recognized his easy gait as he strolled inside the building.

  “You’d better hurry before he can leave.”

  She almost ran into two customers on her way out of the store. “Thank you, Marissa.”

  “Sophie.” Marissa gave her a smile. “I’m glad that you’re following your heart.”

  “I hope I can make Dusty appreciate it too.”

  She squeezed around the customers and darted through the street. With coat flapping behind her, crocheted bonnet slipping back from her head, she made a spectacle as she reached the doors of the bank. A bearded man arrived at the same time as she. Sophie collided into his arm. “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  “You sure are in some hurry, little lady. You’d think the money in the bank was going to run off and leave ya.”

  She stood back and noticed the dirty stains on his coat and the unkempt appearance of his facial hair. He must have been traveling for a long time. The suede finish of the satchel he carried was worn to the grain. “I should have watched where I was going.”

  “No worries, ma’am. Here you go.” He held the door open for her. He kept the other hand in his pocket.

  She rushed inside the bank and looked about for Dusty. He stood behind four men waiting for the teller. “Dusty?”

  He looked over his shoulder. Sophie froze in wait for his response. Suddenly his face went from neutral to alarm.

  “Look out.” He pulled her to him just as a gunshot rang through the bank.

  She lost her balance and fell to the hard floor. Shouts sounded from all around. Pairs of feet scuffled in her line of vision. Sophie raised her head to see the man in the filthy coat behind her, now brandishing a pistol, aimed at the stunned teller behind the counter. The first bullet struck the wood paneling of the teller’s window.

  “Everybody stay where you are and there won’t be no trouble.” He strode to the front. “You, sir, put the money in here.” He pulled the satchel from his shoulder and tossed it on the counter. The teller’s hands tremb
led as he reached for it.

  Sophie felt Dusty’s protective arm around her. She heard the bank door swing open. Another man came in with a gun and remained standing at the entrance.

  “It’s the Lubbett Brothers,” the customer in front of Dusty said. He was rewarded with a kick to the face from the first bank robber.

  “You know who we are, son? Then you know to keep your yap shut.”

  The teller put four stacks of bills into the satchel, along with a bag of coins. “That’s all we keep up front.”

  The bank robber blocking the door called to his accomplice. “Cordell, tell him to go in the back for some more money. I know they keep it somewhere around here.”

  Sophie could hear the teller’s teeth chatter in his head as he spoke. “The safe is in the back. I’ll get the money out of it. Please don’t harm anybody.”

  Cordell kept his gun on the teller. “Hurry up.”

  The frightened teller scrambled to one of the back offices and jangled the door knob. “It’s locked. I can’t get in.”

  Cordell swore. “Get on the ground. Now.” He swiveled the pistol on the remaining bank customers. “When the bag comes your way, put your valuables in.”

  Sophie watched as he thrust the satchel in the first customer’s face. The man, with blood trickling from his nose, reached into his pocket and tossed his wallet into the bag.

  “The chain watch too,” Cordell ordered.

  The man dispensed of his timepiece before proceeding to put his head back down on the floor. The next man, wearing a navy coat, threw his money clip and a ring into the bag. The next two followed suit until the bag came to Dusty. He gave Cordell his billfold.

  “Your turn, sweetheart.” The bank robber pushed the satchel Sophie’s way. “Let’s see what moneybags you got under that dress.”

  “I’m not carrying any money. I came to town with my family.”

  Cordell lowered the pistol under her chin. The cold metal bit into the soft flesh of her lower palate. “Pretty faces don’t fool me. You just don’t walk into a bank with no money on you.”

  “Please.” She choked as he pressed the tip of the barrel hard against her throat. “I’m telling the truth.”

  “She’s not lying to you,” Dusty spoke. “She came in here because she saw me.”

  Cordell looked at the two of them and smiled broken teeth. “Well, ain’t that just the sweetest thing? You hear ’im, Harrison? Got us a pair of lovers in here. Think I should put one in him or her first?”

  Cordell’s brother glanced outside. “We better move. People know somethin’s goin’ on at the bank.”

  “In a minute. One last time, little lady. Your valuables.”

  Sophie shut her eyes as he cocked the gun.

  “Cordell, they’re coming!”

  Sophie heard a commotion at the door. She opened her eyes to see it burst open with several men shouting and grabbing at Harrison. Cordell uttered another expletive and seized her up by the hair.

  “Touch my brother and I will make this blond heifer’s hair blood red.” He moved the pistol to her skull. “Turn him loose.”

  Sophie heard Cordell grunt before feeling the butt of the pistol slam her shoulder and clatter to the floor. She fell again as a force behind her sent her plunging forward. Dusty dove for the man’s legs and brought him down. The two struggled in a tangle of fists.

  “Sophie, the gun,” Dusty yelled.

  The firearm lay inches from her foot. As she squirmed to kick it to Dusty, Harrison pulled away from the men holding him at the door. He raised his gun at her. Dusty let go of Cordell and dropped in front of Sophie as Harrison opened fire. The sound of the shot reverberated off the walls of the bank.

  The men regained control of Harrison, wrenching the gun from his hands and beating him to the ground. Sophie looked down at Dusty as blood streamed from his left arm. He pushed to his knees.

  “No, stay down.” As she said the words, a hand grabbed her coat collar. She clawed at Cordell, screaming. Dusty twisted, made for Cordell’s dropped pistol with his right hand, grabbed it, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

  The bullet fired so close that Sophie could hear the air crackle with heat. Cordell’s body jerked and fell away from her, not to move again. She scrambled from him and crawled over to Dusty.

  A pool of blood welled under him, continuing to spread as he sank to the floor. She put her arm beneath his head and discovered that the blood was not flowing from his arm but from a wound in his chest. His hazel eyes glazed over.

  “Get the doctor!” She screamed at the bank customers that remained to ogle them. The man in the navy coat ran out, followed by the teller. She touched Dusty’s face as it began to pale over. “You’re going to be alright, Dusty. Do you hear me?”

  “The Lubbett Brothers?” he mumbled.

  “They’ve been caught. You shot one.”

  A spasm racked his body. “I think one got me too.”

  Sophie grew dizzy as his blood trickled warm through her fingers. “That bullet wasn’t meant for you. You jumped in front of me.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “I reckon I’m crazy that way.”

  He slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 29

  D USTY WOKE UP in a room that smelled strongly of carbolic acid and chloroform. His eyes adjusted to a spectacled man seated beside him. As the fog lifted from his head, he recognized the man as Dr. Gillings.

  “Good. You’re awake. We were worried about you, Dusty.” The doctor stood and pulled the curtains back from a window. Sunlight burst through in a stream of painful, yellow light.

  “Draw the curtains again.” Dusty groaned and tried to turn on his side. Sharp pain ran through his chest and down his arm. He pulled back the bedsheet and saw that his torso was bandaged to the waist.

  “Careful. You’ve been shot and lost a lot of blood. That wound’s going to take a long time to heal.”

  “How long have I been out?”

  Dr. Gillings appeared again at the bedside. “You were unconscious for several hours after the incident, and have been sleeping for two days. You’re lucky that bullet missed your heart by two inches.”

  Dusty remembered the robbery at the bank. His mind shot to Sophie and he tried to sit up. The skin pulled where the bullet struck him in the chest.

  “I told you to be careful. Don’t rip those stitches.”

  “Sorry, Doctor. I need to see Sophie. She was at the bank with me when the Lubbett Brothers tried to rob it.”

  “No one has to worry about those men now. The one, you shot in the lung, and the other’s sitting in jail waiting for the hanging judge. The sheriff says you’re to get the reward for shooting Cordell, whether he lives or meets his Maker.”

  Dusty didn’t care about the money. “Is Sophie alright?”

  “Miss Charlton and her father are outside waiting. I’ll send them in.”

  While Dusty waited, he saw his clothes folded on the table in front of the room, his boots on the floor. He looked at a cabinet that held swabs and physician’s instruments.

 
; The door opened and Sophie’s father entered. “How are you feeling, Dusty?”

  “Like the time I felt when your plow mule kicked me, Mr. Charlton. Only worse. How’s Sophie?”

  “She’s fine. I had her wait because I wanted to speak to you first.” Mr. Charlton sat in the chair by the bed. “Thank you for protecting my daughter from those bank robbers. She told me that you shielded her from a bullet and shot the man who attacked her.”

  “I love your daughter, sir. I would’ve died for her.”

  “You almost did.” Sophie’s father steepled his fingers as he looked at the physician’s instruments in the cabinet. “And Sophie seems to feel the same way about you.”

  The wound over Dusty’s heart produced a constant dull ache. “I’d like to prove to you and Mrs. Charlton that I can provide for Sophie.”

  “Dusty, if I step away and allow my daughter to make her own decisions, I don’t want her getting hurt. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Charlton got up from the chair. “I’ll get Sophie to come in. You make sure to heal, son.”

  Dusty couldn’t believe Mr. Charlton’s gracious act of extending the olive branch. It must have taken a heaping dose of restraint for him not to want to shelter his daughter in the house forever after the bank incident. Dusty would make sure not to alter Mr. Charlton’s new and fledgling trust.

  That’s if Sophie still had the heart to forgive him for distancing himself this past month.

  She came into the room, a little tired, dark circles under her eyes, but no less than beautiful to him. He wanted to reach out to her, but his newly minted badge of courage made even the thought of raising his arm a foolish fancy.

  Sophie approached the bed where Dusty rested. She was used to seeing him outside moving, full of masculine energy. The small confines of a doctor’s office was no place for him.