Shadow of Regret (Shadow #3)

by Barbara Goss

  Quinn’s stomach growled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He looked out the window to be sure no one was outside of his house, and then went out the side door to the root cellar. He lit the lantern and went down the steps. The cool air felt good. He grabbed an apple and a few vegetables and went back up the stairs, blew out the lantern, and closed the root cellar door. As he was walking around the house to the side door, he ran smack into Rose Jeffries.

  He froze in his tracks, wondering why she’d want to visit him. What could the sixteen year-old have possibly come to see him about?

  “Hello, Quinn,” she said. “I didn’t make it to the funeral, so I thought I’d stop by and give you my condolences.”

  “Thank you,” he mumbled. “That’s very kind.” He turned to go into the house, but she remained standing there. He wanted to just go inside and leave her there, but he’d been brought up better than to be rude.

  “I wondered if I could be of any help? Is there anything I can do for you?” she asked.

  She seemed sincere, and her youthfulness made it impossible to be impolite. This was probably the first time she’d ever reached out to someone who’d lost a loved one. He sat down on the steps leading to the side door. “I’m doing all right. Thank you for the concern.”

  She sat down beside him, looking up at him with these large, expressive blue eyes. “Sometimes it helps to talk about your feelings. I’m here if you need to do that.”

  For the first time since Martha had died he almost cracked a smile. Her sweetness seemed to melt away some of his bitterness. Rose’s sister, Ivy, had married his best friend, Jonas Armstrong. Their father was the minister of his church. He hadn’t had many opportunities to speak with her in the past, but he had always found her a charming, sensitive, young lady.

  “I appreciate your offer, more than you’ll ever know, Rose. But, if I begin to talk about it, I’ll end up in tears again. I still can’t believe it happened, and that it was all my fault.”

  “How could it possibly be your fault, Quinn?” she asked, with tenderness in her voice.

  “I should have prevented…” he hesitated. She was too young for the details. “I mean, there are ways—”

  “She wouldn’t have wanted that. It takes two people to…” Now Rose hesitated. “I bet she was eagerly awaiting the baby’s arrival.”

  “She was—” he turned away; his voice broke with emotion.

  She patted his shoulder and then stood. “I’ll leave you now, but feel free to call on me if you ever need anything.”

  He watched her ride away on a horse Jonas had probably given her. She was a pretty little thing, and she seemed to have a heart of gold. Some young man would be lucky to win her someday. She reminded him more of Ivy than Violet, maybe because she had blonde hair and blue eyes like Ivy. Violet’s strawberry blonde hair was stunning, too. All three girls were beautiful, well-bred young ladies. Their father was the best minister Grace Church had ever had. No matter how bitter he felt, he didn’t think he could ever be rude to anyone in that family. They were special.

  Quinn went back into the house, had a bite to eat, and went to bed.

  First thing in the morning he put a ‘for sale’ sign on the front lawn. He couldn’t continue to live in the house he’d shared with Martha. Everywhere he turned were memories best put aside for now. Seeing them only served to make him feel the same guilt and regret all over again.

  He rode to the new home Jonas and Ivy had built on the north side of town. When he rode into the yard, Jonas was exercising a horse in his corral. He stopped and came over to the fence to greet him.

  “Good to see you out and about again, Quinn. Is there anything we can do?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is. I’m selling the house. I put up a sign and took the liberty to list you as the contact person if anyone is interested. I’ll be staying at the Abilene Hotel.”

  “May I ask why you’re selling?” Jonas asked.

  “Too many memories best left in the background for now.”

  Jonas sighed. “I’d probably feel the same way. I have no problem with selling your house for you. God bless you, Quinn.”

  “Don’t ever mention God to me again,” Quinn spat, and rode away.

  Quinn settled himself into a small, one-bed hotel room. He felt it was all he needed. He counted what money he had, and hoped it would last him until the house was sold. The thought of having to move Martha’s things from the house made him grimace. He’d packed enough of his things to last, and if he needed more, he could always still stop by the house and pick something up.

  He left the hotel and made his way to The Silver Slipper. It had been six or seven years since he’d last gone into a saloon, or had anything stronger than cider to drink. He ordered a beer, and gazed around the smoke-filled room.

  It was early, and there wasn’t much going on. Four men played cards at a round table in the corner, and besides them, it was just he and the bartender. He downed the beer and ordered another. It wasn’t long before more people came in since it was about sundown. The piano player practiced, and the girls, decked out in their finery, started coming down the stairs.

  “Hi there, stranger,” a curly-haired brunette said as she sidled up to him. “I can’t let a big, strong handsome man like you drink alone.” She winked.

  It didn’t take Quinn long to remember his early days, when he, Jonas, and a man named Boyd did the saloon runs. They’d always get lucky with one of the saloon women, until one of them got pregnant, and pointed her finger at Jonas. That did it for Quinn. He quit sowing his wild oats, and turned back to the church and clean living. But, now, he didn’t care what happened to him.

  He put his arm around the woman. “And what is your name?” he asked.

  “Mae Belle. And you?” she asked.

  “Quinn,” he answered. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “You may,” she said with a seductive smile.

  Quinn spent the rest of the evening with Mae Belle, and later, when he’d had too much to drink, he brought her back to his hotel room for the night. Relations with her meant nothing to him, as he was numb to feelings and his heart felt cold as an icicle.

  Quinn's wayward life continued for weeks. He turned away his parents when they came to call, and he refused to see his sister, however, when Jonas came, he opened the hotel room door for him.

  “Jonas,” he greeted.

  “Quinn,” he nodded. “I just stopped by to tell you: the house is sold.”

  “Would you care to sit down?” Quinn offered him the only chair in the room, while he sat upon the bed. “Anyone I know buy it?”

  “Yes. Caleb bought it back.”

  “Caleb? Why?”

  “He isn’t sure,” Jonas sat in the chair. “He told me he couldn’t let it go to strangers. He also mentioned his brother-in-law might need a home when he graduates from the seminary. You remember Billy? Or he may present it to his close friend, Violet, when she marries Miles Croft. Meanwhile, he and Julia would keep the house closed.”

  “How much did you get for it?” Quinn asked.

  “Exactly what you paid.” Jonas took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Quinn.

  Quinn stuffed the envelope into his pocket without opening it. “Thank you.”

  “I heard you’re back to behaving like when you were eighteen,” Jonas said. “I thought you and I learned a good lesson back then.”

  “I don’t care anymore, Jonas,” he said, standing. “I gave good living and God everything I had, and it backfired on me. Now I don’t care what happens to me.”

  Jonas shook his head. “I wish you’d—”

  “Sorry you have to leave so soon, and thank you for selling my home,” Quinn said as he walked to the door and opened it.

  “Are you throwing me out?” Jonas asked.

  “I have to get some sleep so I’m wide awake for my night life,” Quinn said.

  “Quinn, don’t do this.”

  “Jonas, w
hen I drink and have fun with the ladies, I don’t dwell on my pain. I actually get to forget for a while,” he said. “Come again when you can stay longer.”

  Jonas walked through the door, but Quinn saw him shake his head again as he closed the door. He plopped on the bed and fell asleep.

  Chapter 3

  Rose Jeffries celebrated her seventeenth birthday with her family and friends at the Armstrongs’ home. Phoebe Armstrong outdid herself, preparing a standing rib roast, with red potatoes, and fresh vegetables from their garden. For dessert, her sister, Ivy, brought out a huge cake for her.

  After Rose opened her gifts, they gathered in the sitting room, drinking coffee or tea and chatting. Rose played with the real ruby bracelet Caleb and Julia had given her. She didn’t pay much attention to the conversation until she heard someone mention Quinn’s name.

  “Quinn is still throwing his life away in town,” Jonas was telling everyone. “He now has an apartment over the hardware store. He’s back to working in the livery, though.”

  “Is his father still involved in the business?” Caleb asked.

  “No. Calvin isn’t well. He suffered some kind of spell a while ago, and that forced Quinn back to the livery,” Jonas said. “If you go to the livery to talk to him, don’t get personal or he’ll shut off the conversation and walk away.”

  Rose’s father, Reverend Hiram Jeffries, asked, “Would he talk to me?”

  “He may. You can try,” Jonas said. “I’ve had no success with him. He’ll talk to you until you try to talk some sense into him.”

  “Is this all because his wife died?” Hiram asked.

  “I think that’s part of it,” Jonas said. “But he also blames God for it, claiming that all his good living didn’t pay off.”

  “I’ll go and see him tomorrow,” Hiram said.

  Rose felt tears form in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “I could try to talk to him,” Rose offered.

  “You will not, young lady,” Lavinia Jeffries said. “You will stay away from town, saloons, and Quinn Iverson.”

  “But—” she started to say.

  “No but’s. You heard your mother, Rose,” Hiram said. He turned to the others. “Rose has a personality that makes her to want to change the world and help everyone.”

  “That’s not a bad trait,” Caleb said. “Just misplaced in this case.”

  “Quinn is not a bad person,” Rose said, defensively. “He’s a hurting soul.”

  “Well,” Hiram said, “I’ll see what I can do to help him, tomorrow.”

  Quinn was kneeling beside a mare he was grooming when Reverend Jeffries walked into the livery. He’d been dreading his visit, but he knew it was imminent. He’d worried how he’d handle the conversation, and was still unsure.

  He nodded to Hiram.

  Hiram slapped his back. “Quinn, how are you? I’ve not seen you in some time.”

  “I’m okay,” Quinn said, and continued brushing the horse.

  “Is there a place where we can talk?” Hiram asked, gazing around the livery.

  Quinn kept his tone tolerant and respectful. “No, not really. If you want to hire a buggy or horse, we can do that right here.”

  “I’m more concerned about you and your soul right now, Quinn. Let me talk to you,” Hiram said.

  “I’m not interested, sir. You see, I went that route already,” he stood from his crouched position. “It did me no good.”

  “People die all the time—”

  “Excuse me, sir. I have work to do,” Quinn said over his shoulder as he walked the horse back to the stall.

  Hiram followed him. “Is it because Martha died, or is it because you think God let you down? God doesn’t let people down. It was meant to be, Quinn. Any one of us could die at any moment. If it’s your time—”

  Quinn went into the office and slammed the door.

  When Hiram walked into the house, Rose ran immediately to him. “Did you talk to Quinn?”

  “I did,” he replied, “for all the good it did.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “He shut me off, just as Jonas said he would. He blames God for not answering his prayer, and himself for Martha’s death. I will have to meditate on some ways to reach him,” Hiram said as he made his way to his office.

  Rose sat in the sitting room with teary eyes. Poor Quinn. She walked to her bedroom, took out her own Bible, and looked for answers.

  When Quinn looked up from his paperwork in the office one morning, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Rose? What are you doing here?”

  Rose walked, meekly, into his office and gingerly took a seat near the side of his desk. Now, Quinn felt trapped. He wouldn’t be able to walk into his office and slam the door if she started preaching to him. He sighed. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was in town and just thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. I haven’t seen you in months,” she said.

  She sounded sincere, and since he’d always had a soft spot for Rose; he spoke honestly. “I’m living from day to day—or I should say from night to night.”

  She blinked at his words, but ignored them. “You’re looking well,” she said. She played with her reticule nervously. “The last time we spoke, you mentioned feeling guilty for what happened to Martha. Do you still feel that way?”

  Quinn closed his eyes and thought about how to respond. He just couldn’t be disrespectful to Rose. Not when he could read the sincerity and caring in her eyes and voice.

  “I’ve accepted that, somewhat. You were right. It takes two people to make a—well, no I don’t feel as guilty.”

  “Something is bothering you. You confided in me about your guilt and I was able to help. Maybe I can help again,” she said.

  “Why do you want to help me?” Quinn said. “If you knew the life I’ve been living since Martha died you’d run out of here so fast, a train couldn’t catch you.”

  “You think me that delicate? I’m tougher than I look, Quinn,” she said softly. “I want to help you because you’re my friend. I’ve always looked up to you.” She blushed. “To be honest, I’ve had a schoolgirl crush on you for the longest time.”

  “You did?” he said. The revelation shocked him. Little Rose had a crush on him all this time. Now, that he thought about it, he did recall her giving him dreamy looks from time to time. She sure looked good sitting there, with her blonde hair pulled back with combs, and falling down her back. “At sixteen, you are still a schoolgirl, Rose.”

  “I’m seventeen now. I’m finished with school, and have applied for my teaching license. I’m old enough to be courted,” she said proudly.

  “And who is the lucky fellow?”

  “No one yet,” she said.

  “Make sure the fellow you pick is worthy of you. You are a very special young lady,” he said.

  “I want someone like you, Quinn,” she said.

  “No, you don’t!” Quinn exclaimed. “I'm not the Quinn you once knew. You have no idea about my life now. Pick someone like Jonas or Caleb.”

  “People don’t change what they are inside,” she said. “The old Quinn is still there…somewhere.” He saw her eyes cast downward when she said that last part.

  At that very moment, as he was just about to answer her, his office door flew open, and a tall, redheaded woman, with thick makeup, and a low cut dress, flew in like a breeze, paying no attention to his guest.

  “Quinn! You didn’t come home last night!” Curses flew from her ruby red lips. “Who were you with this time?” Dora said, with hands on hips.

  “Not now, Dora. Can’t you see I have a…a customer?” Quinn said. He could see the shocked look on poor Rose’s face.

  Rose stood. “I really must be going—”

  Quinn stopped her with his hand. “Sit down, Miss Jeffries,” Quinn said gently. His voice turned angry when he addressed his latest visitor. “Dora, please leave! You can’t come barging into my place of business with this nonsense. I’ve told you b
efore: my livery is off limits.”

  “But Quinn—” Dora said with a pout.

  “Out!” Quinn shouted. “No one controls who I see and where I go. Now, out!”

  “In that case, I’ll be moving my things out of your apartment.” Dora turned and left, slamming his office door behind her.

  He turned to a pale Rose, sitting stiffly in the chair. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. So, now you fully understand the kind of man I am now. If you were smart, you’d run out of here and never come back.”

  He could see Rose struggling for composure. Several moments later she stood and said, “The Quinn that I love and respect is still in there…somewhere.”

  Quinn’s mouth dropped open as he watched her stand and leave his office. He watched her until she’d gotten safely into her buggy. He then, put his head in his hands. How should he cope with a seventeen-year-old young woman who claimed to love him—a drunken womanizer?

  He shook his head. He was twenty-five to her seventeen. He had no idea how to cope with this new knowledge. He could only hope that she meant a friendship type of love.

  He sighed. After that little incident he felt dirty, and worthless in contrast to the innocent Rose who had witnessed that disgraceful scene. Until now he’d not realized just how rotten he’d become. To have young, sweet, and innocent Rose witness that scene, made him physically ill, but not sick enough to change his present life style.

  At sundown, Quinn walked into the Horseshoe Saloon, and ordered his usual. Dora worked at The Silver Slipper. He thought it best to avoid her for a while. He needed liquor and women to forget, but since the incident with Dora in front of Rose, he’d try to be more selective of his women, and he swore he’d not let another woman move into his apartment. He’d opened himself up to her possessiveness by letting her move in. He’d been down that route, and he’d not travel it again. He eyed the different saloon women, and one stood out from the rest. She was leaning on the piano talking to the man who sat at the piano. She was blonde, with blue eyes, and a shape to die for. He walked over to her.