“You ain’t listenin’ to me, Fortune.” The man poked his finger into Fortune’s shoulder. “I said you had to be out of town in an hour or else.”
“And you didn’t hear me.” Sam quickly grabbed the finger and bent it straight back. “I said I’m stayin’. I got to meet with the Edgingtons tomorrow.”
He released the finger, and the deputy clutched it with his free hand. “You’re lyin’ to me. You don’t know them folks!”
Sam could see Delfy, the cook, and two customers watching from the doorway. “I’ll tell you what.” He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “You go right in there to the hotel lobby and call the Edgingtons on the telephone. I presume you know how to use one. Now, you can’t talk to Amanda, because she’s flat in bed. She just had a beautiful baby boy. But talk to Cyrus Edgington. Tell him you’re tryin’ to throw Sam Fortune out of town.”
“I could call your bluff.”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggestin’. And while you are talkin’ to him on the telephone, ask Mr. Edgington what they named his new little son and who they named him after.”
The lawman stormed out of the restaurant into the hotel lobby. As soon as he left, the blond waitress, Delphia, came over to his table to refill his china coffee cup. “What did the deputy want with you?”
Fortune held the cup to his mouth and blew the steam off the top. “He wanted me to leave town.”
Her thin eyebrows rose, but her eyes still danced. “Are you wanted by the law?”
“Not at the moment.” He glanced around the room. Most of the folks filtered back to their tables.
“You surprise me.” Delfy fussed with the yellow daises in the green, glass vase in the middle of the table. “I figured you for one of them rich Texas ranchers.” When she arose, her hand lingered on his shoulder.
He reached up and patted her hand. “Now aren’t you glad I didn’t agree to take you to the dance?”
“No, I’m not. What you used to be don’t matter to me. I ain’t exactly spent my whole life servin’ tables in a restaurant. Your past don’t matter. Even that gray hair don’t matter.”
Sam Fortune began to laugh.
“Are you pokin’ fun at me?” she quizzed.
He squeezed her hand. “No, ma’am. I like you Delfy. You’re straightforward and refreshin’.”
“Does that mean you changed your mind about the dance?”
“Nope, but I just might have an important favor to ask of you a bit later.”
“Fortune!” the deputy constable boomed as he stomped back across the room. “I don’t know how you weaseled an invitation to the Edgingtons, but you ain’t stayin’ in town one hour later than your lunch’s through tomorrow.”
“Did you ask about the baby?” Sam challenged.
“Mrs. Edgington had her baby?” Delfy interrupted.
Sam sliced a bit of now cold meat. “Yep.”
“A girl or a boy?” she pressed.
He slid the bite off his knife with his teeth, chewed, then swallowed. “A boy.”
Delfy ran her finger down Fortune’s shirtsleeve. “What’s his name?”
Sam waved the gravy-stained knife in the direction of the constable. “Why don’t you tell her, deputy?”
“I ain’t concerned with a baby’s name, but I am concerned that you keep the law while you’re in town, Sam Fortune. You better watch yourself at all times. One wrong move, and we don’t intend to lock you up, if you get my drift.”
Delfy pulled her hand away from his arm. “Are you really Sam Fortune?”
“Yeah, that’s me, darlin’.” Fortune took another sip of coffee.
“Did you hear me, Fortune?” the deputy blustered.
“What do you plan on doin’, deputy? Hidin’ in the alley with a shotgun, so you can shoot me in the back?”
Several restaurant patrons again exited the room.
“I heard it took fourteen U.S. marshals and six Indian scouts to capture you,” she blurted out.
“The story was exaggerated,” Sam grinned. “It was only twelve U.S. marshals and five Baltimore Indian scouts.”
The deputy’s face flushed. He waved his finger in front of Fortune. “Only the presence of this . . . this woman . . . keeps me from tellin’ you how I really feel.”
“For that, I am grateful. However, she isn’t ‘this woman’—her name’s Delphia. And she’s not merely a woman, but a lady. And I agree with you completely. We should not carry on this conversation in her presence. Good day, Mr. Deputy.”
The deputy stormed across the room then spun around and hollered, “You watch yourself, Fortune.”
“I will, Deputy. And I’m sure you will as well.”
The lawman tramped out of the restaurant.
“He don’t have no right to treat you that way, even if you are Sam Fortune.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What kind of favor do you want?”
His voice lowered. “Would you escort me back to my hotel room?”
She tried to suppress a giggle by covering her mouth with her hand. “You want me to walk with you?”
“Yes, ma’am. That deputy will have pals hiding around town to spy on me and take a shot if they get a chance. But none of them will dare try anything with a beautiful, young woman on my arm.”
“I ain’t really all that young. I ain’t in my forties, like you, but I ain’t young.”
Forty? Do I really look that old? “You are a young lady, Delfy. Trust me.”
“Do I get to stay in your room for a while?”
“No. Delfy . . . ladies don’t make requests like that.”
“That’s because ladies are married long before they reach my age. Do I have to be a lady?” She kept her arms folded.
“Of course not. But it’s your God-given privilege. It doesn’t make good sense to toss that privilege away.”
“Well . . . since you put it that way. You’re a complicated man, Sam Fortune.”
The pillow was fluffy.
The mattress soft.
The sheets clean.
The room dark.
The neighbors quiet.
The room at the Inter-Ocean was exactly what Sam Fortune expected from a first class hotel.
But he couldn’t get to sleep.
He lit the lantern, pulled Rocklin’s Bible out of the black, leather valise, and read Psalm 51.
Again.
Then he paced the room, checked the chamber of the Sharps carbine for a cartridge, and laid the gun back down on the bed. He shut off the lantern and continued to pace the room, wearing only an old pair of longhandles that he had cut off at the knees and elbows.
He stopped by the window and pulled back the drapes. The electricity street lamps gave the town a dreamy glow. Very few people were on the street. The two shadowy figures that followed him and Delfy to the hotel had disappeared.
He thought about the blond waitress. I have no idea if I’m gettin’ old . . . or wise . . . or foolish . . . or moral . . . or tired . . . or biblical. It just wasn’t right to let her stay. She deserves better. She should have someone take her to that dance at Fort Russell, then on a slow carriage ride home and be given a kiss at the door.
That’s all.
I can’t figure out why I’m thinkin’ this. She’s only another woman . . . another lady. It’s like . . . like I’m seein’ myself different. Seein’ my whole life different. I don’t know if it was the prison term . . . or Piney . . . or Rocklin . . . or Kiowa . . . or Rachel in Dodge City . . . or this servin’ girl I’ve never met before in my life.
I can’t believe I didn’t call that loudmouth deputy out. He would have gone for his gun first: strictly self-defense. He wasn’t worth it. It’s like somethin’ decent dies inside of me at every gunfight.
I don’t
have any more left to give.
If there’s any redemption, I can’t get worse. There will be no soul left to save.
“According unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.”
Do you have limits on that multitude of mercies, Lord?
I reckon I used up my share years ago.
He flopped down on top of the comforter and stared up at the high, dark ceiling.
If I had to live it all over again, I would have stayed at the ranch when Mama died and insisted that we fight off the carpetbaggers. Daddy didn’t have his heart in it after that. All he needed to do was admit he was wrong about the war, just say that it was good that Texas seceded, and ask me to stay and help out. That’s all he needed to do, but he was too stubborn.
The cotton sheets were already damp from sweat. Sam felt no movement of air, even though the window was partially open. The room had a slight aroma of ammonia cleanser and rose tonic water.
And all I needed to do was to admit I was wrong about the war—that it hurt Texas more than it helped. But I was much too stubborn to admit that.
I still am.
And it’s too late to tell him anyways.
It’s been fifteen years since I took off. I’m the son that disappeared.
Lord, I’m so tired of this. Let me start all over. At least with Dacee June . . . or with Robert and Jamie Sue . . . or with whoever’s left.
Jesus, I think I want to go home now.
But I don’t even have a home.
Have mercy on me, O God. Have mercy on my sinful soul.
Tall, dark-haired Cyrus Edgington met him at the door. “Sam, good to see you!”
The men shook hands. Then Fortune pulled off his gray Stetson. “How’s the new baby and his mama?”
“He’s sleeping, and she’s sore. But not nearly as sore as when Rocklin was born. Amanda intends to take lunch with us at the table.”
“She’s Texas tough.”
“And Tennessee sweet.” Edgington ushered Fortune into the parlor.
“I hope she didn’t try to get up and cook.”
“Listen, Sam,” Edgington put his arm around Fortune’s shoulder as they strolled through the room, “because of you, lots of things are different around here since last night.”
“I hope that’s good.”
“Good? It’s miraculous! The bank’s paid off. The lawsuit’s dropped. I rehired our housekeeper. It was providential that you came to this house at the exact hour you did.”
“I always supposed the Lord has good timin’.”
“Precisely what Amanda said this morning. I’m sorry that new deputy constable hassled you at the restaurant.”
“I’ve been through that sort of thing before. It happens in most ever’ town. He has a personal grudge. I had a run-in with a relative of his.”
“Yes, so I heard,” Edgington continued. “I talked to the mayor, and the man was dismissed this morning.”
“They fired him?”
“Personal vendettas have no place in the constable business.”
The men paused under a stained glass, electric chandelier.
“Now, he’ll have twice the reason to come lookin’ for me,” Sam bemoaned.
Edgington’s hand waved in front of him. “You didn’t have anything to do with his dismissal.”
Sam reached under his black tie and unfastened the top button of his white shirt. “I’m not sure he’ll see it that way.”
“The fact remains, we can’t have people using the office for personal revenge.” Cyrus Edgington motioned toward the wide, arched doorway. “I believe the ladies are waiting in the dining room.”
Propped up on two feather pillows, Amanda Edgington wore a green, satin robe, and sat at one end of the long, narrow table. In a wicker bassinet next to her, the red-faced Samuel Gabriel Edgington slept with only his head peeking out of the neatly folded covers. The captain’s chair at the other end was for Mr. Edgington. Young Rocklin sat in a wooden chair straight across the table from an empty chair.
“Mr. Fortune, would you please sit there,” Amanda motioned to the chair on her right.
“Thank you, ma’am. You’re looking a little stronger than yesterday evening.”
“I was a sight, wasn’t I.”
“You were a bit busy.”
“I can’t believe I allowed a man other than my husband to see me like that. And I cannot understand why I’m not totally embarrassed to see you today. It’s as if you’re part of the family. We will either have to remain very good friends, or I will have to have you shot,” she said with a wide, easy grin.
Sam laughed and sat down. “I reckon I’ll choose bein’ friends. But don’t worry about what I did or didn’t see. I was so stunned I can’t remember a thing.” He surveyed the squirming, dark-haired toddler. “Good mornin’, little darlin’.”
Rocklin squirreled out of her chair and toddled around the table, lifting her arms to Sam Fortune. “Carry me!” she squealed.
Amanda Edgington tried to stop her daughter’s advance. “Punkin, don’t bother—”
Sam plucked up the smiling toddler. “Oh, me and her are pals. Aren’t we, little darlin’.”
She threw her arms around his neck and planted a very slobbery kiss on his cheek.
“Oh my, you get a kiss this morning, Mr. Fortune,” Amanda smiled.
“It’s a privilege and an honor. But call me Sam. I still think of my father as Mr. Fortune.”
“Is he still living?” she asked.
Sam stared across the room at a white lace curtains in the window. “No. I don’t believe he is. But, I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Well, we should eat before I say something else dumb.” She looked over at her husband. “Cyrus, you can tell Rose that she may serve lunch, now.”
The fried chicken tasted crisp, yet flaky; done to the bone, yet moist. The mashed potatoes, almost whipped, yielded no hard lumps or bitter surprises. The corn, still on the cob, held small and perfectly even light yellow kernels. With each bite, hot, sweet juices delighted the tongue. The diced peaches proved ripe, but not woody or stringy. And the plum pudding, darker than mud, richer than chocolate, was covered in thick, fresh cream—ice-chilled cream.
Sam Fortune could not remember ever tasting a better meal.
At least, not since his mama died.
The conversation ranged from somber reflections of Amanda growing up without her father to the incredible future of the telephone business.
The subject that was never discussed was Sam Fortune’s past.
Rocklin spent most of the meal in his lap.
“You are a natural with young children, just like my Cyrus,” Amanda insisted. “It is not every man who has such patience.”
Sam attempted to keep Rocklin bouncing on his knee while he sipped the coffee. “Well, ma’am, I’ve always been an easy mark for beautiful ladies with stunning smiles. Besides, I could count on one hand the number of times I’ve ever been allowed to hold a little one.”
“It would be a sin to waste your God-given gift. I pray you’ll have a huge family someday.”
“I’m afraid I’ve passed up a lot of good family-raisin’ years, Amanda.”
“Nonsense. No man is controlled solely by his past. He is merely limited by his fascination with it. Turn it loose, and you can do anything you want. That’s what I say.”
“Tell me, Cyrus,” Sam said. “Do all women become philosophers immediately after childbirth?”
“This lady has had big thoughts all her life, Sam. It was her idea to enter into the telephone business.”
“Do you regret it?” she asked her husband.
“Never. I’ll tell you straight up, Sam. This is the business of the future. You think it’s in g
old mines? Where are these mines going to be a hundred years from now? They’ll be tapped out, every last one of them. But the telephone exchanges? Why, the day is coming when every home will have one or two, and people in Denver can pick it up and talk to someone in New York City.”
“Cyrus is quite the telephone booster,” Sam grinned.
“Daddy thought the whole thing was fascinating. He’d stare for an hour at the telephone wire, trying to figure out how they put a voice in that thing.” Amanda sighed and smiled down at little Samuel. “I do wish my father had lived long enough to see the children. It’s sad for a man never to know his grandchildren.”
“That reminds me.” Sam gently put down his china cup. “I left your daddy’s black leather suitcase in the parlor. I didn’t go through it, so I have no idea how important the things are. I did read his Bible some, but I think I already confessed to that.”
“I want you to have it,” Amanda announced.
“Oh no, ma’am, I couldn’t do that. It should be yours or the children’s.”
“Sam, we have several Bibles. And one thing I know about my father is that if he knew you wanted to read it, he would have given it to you himself. It would be like him getting to help a man out, even after he was gone. He’d like that, don’t you think?”
Sam rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “I reckon he would.”
“Then you’ll take it?”
“Yes, ma’am, and I do appreciate it. It has been more and more useful during these last weeks. That’s very generous of you. I’ll take good care of it.”
“I do believe Cyrus has something else to talk to you about,” she announced.
Cyrus Edgington pushed his empty plate back and rapped his fingers on the lace tablecloth. “Sam, I think we have both expressed how grateful we are for your faithfulness in carrying out the wishes of Amanda’s father. I checked with my attorney today and asked what a lawyer would have charged to settle Mr. Rocklin’s estate.”
“A lawyer?” Sam asked.
“Say he had lived to a ripe old age and had a lawyer draw things up,” Edgington continued. “Well, my attorney figured a lawyer would have charged around ten percent.” He reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a slip of stiff, white paper. “So we want you to have this bank check for two thousand two hundred and forty dollars.”
The Long Trail Home Page 14
