“Absolutely,” John said with a firm nod of his head, “and I will make sure everyone knows you left out of concern for your family, worn out from the long day and all.”
A silent sigh of relief seeped from Finn’s mouth. “John, I can’t thank you enough. Not only for hosting this celebration tonight, but for all of your critical support throughout the campaign. I would not be here if not for you, my friend, and truth be told?” He shook John’s hand. “Our friendship is the best thing that’s come out of this entire run.”
“I feel the same way, Finn—it’s been my pleasure, I assure you.” He nodded to Finn’s family, a smile quirking his lips. “Now go on and head out before Shaylee falls asleep on the table, if she hasn’t already.”
“Thanks, John. I’ll see you tomorrow at the planning meeting.” Slapping him on the back, Finn turned to lean both palms on the table, scanning the tired faces of his family. “Uh, I don’t suppose anyone here would like to go home?”
“Oh my goodness, YES!” Shaylee shouted, jumping up from the table like she’d risen from the dead, almost knocking Finn down when she hugged him at the waist. She peered up with a downcast pinch in her brow as the others rose and pushed in their chairs. “I’m proud of you, Uncle Finn, but I’m too sad to celebrate tonight.”
“Me, too, Doodle,” he whispered, emotion suddenly clogging his throat as he bent to press a kiss to her head. “Let’s go home.”
The ride home wasn’t much better than the evening. The O’Shea’s sat silent in the back seat of his phaeton while Sheridan and Shaylee moped in the front, all escorted by Blaze and Dash, who rode ahead on their horses. The ranch was quiet as he pulled the carriage up to the house. Darkness prevailed except for the light in the barn where Dash and Blaze tended their horses, and then the bunkhouse where a few hands had volunteered to stay behind with Angus and Gert—for a poker tournament, no doubt.
Expelling a weary sigh, Finn helped his nieces down from the carriage, halting them both as they trudged toward the steps along with Aiden and Maeve. “I’d like a word with everyone before we all turn in for the night, if I may. So, Shay and Sheridan, I’d be much obliged if you turned on all the lights in the parlour and fetched some lemonade for us all.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, mounting the steps with a sag of their shoulders while the O’Shea’s followed behind.
“Uncle Finn,” I’ll put up the carriage and take care of Lightning,” Blaze said as he approached from the barn.
Finn cuffed his nephew’s shoulder, well aware his ache over Maggie’s departure probably matched Finn’s own over Libby’s. “Thanks, Blaze—I appreciate it. Then if you and Dash will join us in the parlour, I’d like to discuss a few things.”
Offering a sober nod, Blaze led Lightning and the carriage away.
“But I don’t understand, Uncle Finn,” Sheridan said when the family convened in the parlour moments later, “you and Aunt Libby seemed so happy and you’re still married after all, so how can she leave?”
Good question. Finn cleared his throat as he studied the somber faces around the room. “Well, Sher, your aunt and I had a bit of a disagreement last night—”
Aiden grunted.
“And we all know your aunt has a bit of a temper—”
It was Maeve’s turn to grunt, a completely rare occurrence. “A bloomin’ time bomb even if she is my daughter,” she muttered, shifting in one of two leather wing chairs in front of the fireplace while Aiden reached for her hand.
“Doesn’t she love us anymore, Uncle Finn?” Shaylee asked, a sheen of moisture in her eyes while she hugged the old tattered bear he’d given her so many years ago.
The one she seldom carried around anymore.
Finn’s heart squeezed. “Of course, she does, sweetheart. Sheridan said she told you so this morning before she and Maggie left, didn’t she? That she had to leave for a while because the wedding was off, but she’d be back for plenty of visits?”
“Sayin’ ain’t doin’,” Shaylee said with a quiver of her lip.
Pushing away from the wall where he leaned with arms folded, Blaze silently moved to sit next to his sister on the love seat, pulling her close to press a kiss to her hair.
“But I don’t understand why Maggie had to leave too,” Sheridan said, arms folded in a pout while she stared at the tray of lemonade on the table nobody had touched.
“Well, maybe Blaze can explain it to you.” Dash got up from the chair he’d occupied to amble over and pour himself a lemonade, holding the glass out to offer it to anyone who wanted it. No takers. He sat down next to Sheridan, boot crossed over his knee and took a long draw.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Finn said, gaze flicking to where Blaze tucked Shaylee close, his head bowed over hers.
“You want to tell him, big brother, or should I?” Dash stared at Blaze over the rim of his glass, eyes as cool as the lemonade in his glass.
Blaze peered up beneath shuttered lids, the mope on his face turning into a scowl. “Maggie and I broke it off three days ago, so what?”
“So, what?” Finn blinked, shocked he’d been too busy to notice any rift between Maggie and Blaze. “Thunderation, Blaze, you two were courting! What in blue blazes happened?”
Blaze released a noisy exhale and rested his head on the back of the love seat, eyes closed. “Let’s just say we weren’t suited, Uncle Finn.” His eyes opened a sliver as he delivered a sullen look. “Like you and Aunt Libby, I guess.”
Finn sagged back into his chair, his spirits sinking along with him. He kneaded the bridge of his nose, wondering what in the world he could do to alleviate his family’s pain.
And his.
“Can’t you go after them, Uncle Finn?” Sheridan scooted to the edge of her seat, a flicker of hope in her expression. “You know, talk them into coming back?”
Finn managed a faint smile. “Sure, I can, darlin’, and I fully intend to, but you have to understand, sweetheart, that’s no guarantee they’ll agree.”
“Can you leave tomorrow?” Shaylee asked.
Finn’s mouth tipped off-center. “As much as I’d like to, Shay—and as much as you’d obviously like me to—I have at least two weeks’ worth of transitional meetings before I can even think about going anywhere. And then it’s close to a week’s travel to New York by train, so it won’t be anytime soon.”
“But—” Shaylee sat up.
“But …,” Finn interrupted with a firm lift of his chin, “I know your aunt, and she’ll need time to cool down anyway, Doodle, in addition to a little distance to realize just how much she misses you.”
And me, God willing.
Shaylee flopped back against Blaze’s side with a pout. “I guess.”
“But there is something you can do in the meantime, sweetheart, that will make you feel a whole lot better. You can pray.” He paused, scanning every face in the room with a flicker of hope that suddenly eased the ache in his chest. “We can all pray that God’s will be done.”
Tears welled in Maeve’s eyes as she reached to squeeze Aiden’s hand, a fragile smile trembling on her lips. “Oh, Finn, that so fills me with hope because I’ve always believed it was God’s will for you and Libby to be together.”
“It just wasn’t mine,” Aiden said with a press of Maeve’s hand, his mouth tamped into a sad smile. “But God has a way of pulling our feet from the fire,” he said with a low chuckle, “so if he can do it for me, he can do it for my daughter.”
Finn smiled. “That’s my hope, Aiden.” His gaze lighted on Blaze who lay with his head back and eyes closed as he held Shaylee cocooned in his arms. “Blaze, you’re welcome to go with me to New York when I go if you like.”
His nephew’s eyelids lifted halfway. “No thanks, Uncle Finn. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—Maggie made it pretty clear she had no room for me in her life, so I need to move on.” His lashes lowered once again, and Finn sensed a hopelessness he’d never seen in Blaze before. As if Maggie’s departure
had totally depleted him. There was no question Libby’s departure had depleted Finn, too, but at least Finn had something to fill him back up again that Blaze didn’t. He released a quiet sigh.
Faith.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
“Why don’t you call it a night, Blaze?” Dash wiped off the counter of the bar at the Ponderosa, his tone casual, but the concern in his eyes as potent as the rotgut Blaze had been pouring down his throat the last week.
Upending his drink, Blaze slammed the empty glass back down and slid it toward his brother, the bartender on duty for the night. “One for the road,” he slurred, wondering why he’d avoided drinking all these years when it felt so good to forget.
Dash took the dirty glass and dropped it into the wash bucket under the counter with a thin smile. “One for the coffin, you mean.” Pouring a cup of coffee from the pot he always brewed late to help his regulars sober up for the ride home, he eased it Blaze’s way. “I thought the last one was the ‘one for the road.’”
Blaze laughed. “It was, but now it seems I need one more because apparently my little brother is trying to tell me how to run my life.” He shoved the coffee back, giving a slow blink of glassy eyes when it sloshed all over Dash’s clean counter to make a real mess.
Just like my life.
“Somebody has to,” Dash muttered, nudging the coffee forward again before re-wiping the bar. He tossed the dirty rag into the bucket and then leaned in, palms splayed on the counter. “Look, Blaze, I’m worried about you. Since Maggie left, you’ve been depressed, drinking every night, and fooling around with women you have no business fooling around with. You can’t keep this up.”
“Why not?” Blaze pushed the coffee back, making another mess but not giving a rat’s tail because Dash was out of line. This was Blaze’s life, not his. Scowling, he pivoted on the stool to scan the room for Chanel Monroe, his girl of choice since Rachel had left him high and dry. His scowl tipped into a grin when she gave him a wink from across the room. Well, maybe not dry …
“Because, big brother,” he said quietly, “you’re gonna end up like Pa.”
Dash’s statement had been spoken low, almost a whisper, but the repercussions in Blaze’s mind were deafening. His brother may as well have tossed scalding coffee into Blaze’s face because it singed all the same, searing his mind and gut with a dangerous reality. A reality that up until now, had kept him from alcohol all these years. Eyes wild, he spun around and slammed his arm across the bar, hurling the coffee onto the floor with a crash while he angled in, voice deadly. “You ever say that again, little brother, and I’ll whoop you within an inch of your sorry life, you got that?”
Dash slowly rose to his full height, his jaw as stony as Blaze’s. “Yeah, I got it, but just in case you’re too soused to remember, big brother, I’m not the one with the ‘sorry life.’” Turning his back on Blaze, Dash stooped to pick up the broken pieces of the cup before mopping up the mess and moving to the other end of the bar.
Dropping his head in his hand, Blaze kneaded his temples with forefinger and thumb, not sure if his hand was shaking from anger or from booze.
“Mmm … looks like somebody could use a little attention right now, cowboy.” Chanel’s husky voice blew warm in his ear as she slid on the stool next to his. “Clyde said I could leave early tonight, so how ’bout I love on you a little bit?”
Blaze stared through watery eyes, Chanel’s words barely penetrating the stupor he’d drunk himself into. Without question, Chanel Monroe was one of the prettiest gals in Virginia City. But tonight, the thought of those same kisses that had helped him forget Maggie over the last week and a half suddenly roiled his gut, causing its contents to rise. Pushing her hand away, he slid off the stool, grabbing the bar when his legs wobbled too much. “Sorry, Chanel, but I’m feeling poorly right now, so I think I best just head on ho—”
His stomach suddenly turned, and pushing her away, he staggered into the street just in time, spewing his supper along with a half bottle of whiskey. Stumbling over to the water trough, Blaze threw his Stetson aside and dropped to his knees before submerging his head, scrubbing his mouth with his sleeve after he came back up. Water dripped from his face and hair as he slumped against the trough, legs limp and eyes closed. Chest pumping with ragged heaves, he heard someone squat before him and finally looked up through hazy slits.
“You know, big brother,” Dash said with a patient smile, arms draped over his knees, “Uncle Finn will string you up till you’re high and dry if you go home right now. And you’d probably fall off Minx as well, and she’d leave you high and dry too.”
A silly grin stretched across Blaze’s face. “Prob-ly.”
“So,” Dash said as he hooked his brother under the arms to haul him to his feet. His nose wrinkled as he nodded to the pile of puke next to the trough, “how ’bout a fresh pot of coffee and some solid food to replace what you lost?”
What I lost. Blaze’s eyes closed, the bad taste in his mouth having nothing to do with vomit.
Maggie.
Not waiting for Blaze to answer, Dash picked up Blaze’s Stetson and plopped it on his brother’s head before latching an arm to his waist. Heaving a noisy sigh, he ushered him across the street to Hattie’s Diner, a landmark in Virginia City that stayed open as late as the bars. Hattie always did a brisk business in the late evenings for those who needed a little something more than whiskey in their belly before they went home to the little woman.
Like Blaze. Only he didn’t have a little woman.
Leastways, not anymore …
He grunted when Dash plopped him into a seat at the nearest booth, waving somebody over. Crossing his arms on the table, Blaze dropped his head on top, thinking Dash was right.
I can’t keep this up …
He jumped when somebody clunked a mug of steaming coffee on the table, hand to his throbbing temple as he glared at Dash through eyes as raw as his mood. “What the devil …?”
“Nope,” Dash said with a wry twist of lips, leg slacked as he studied Blaze with hands on his hips. “You left the devil across the street, big brother, and Hattie doesn’t allow any of his—or your—shenanigans over here, so you best behave. I ordered you a big breakfast and told Hattie to keep the coffee coming till you could stand without falling down.”
He nodded toward the Ponderosa. “Clyde let me take a quick break to haul your carcass out of the street, but I gotta get back, so I’m leaving you in good hands, all right?” He pushed the mug of coffee in front of his brother. “Drink it,” he ordered, “or I’ll personally toss you back into the horse trough, understood?” Dash slapped him on the back and started to leave.
Blaze halted him with a shaky hand, avoiding his brother’s gaze. “Thanks, Hash.” His voice was a hoarse whisper as he picked up the mug, eyes closing while he took a long drink. He swallowed hard. “I guess you’re not too bad for a little brother.”
He could almost feel Dash’s trademark grin. “And I guess you’re not too bad for a big one either, Hotshot.” He paused to grip Blaze’s shoulder, the humor in his tone far more solemn than before. “At least when you’re sober.” He flicked the back brim of Blaze’s hat up with a chuckle, strolling away as it tipped low into Blaze’s eyes.
Grateful for the shade it provided from the glare of the diner lamps, Blaze just stared aimlessly into his coffee, too limp to even jolt when the waitress thudded a tray on his table. She shoved a steaming plate of food under his nose before refilling his cup, and his dry mouth actually watered. The smell of fried eggs and bacon rumbled his stomach instead of roiling it, so Blaze considered that a good sign.
“Thanks, Hattie,” he said, nudging his hat up while he took a sip of his coffee, hoping he’d finally purged himself at the trough of all the guilt and shame weighting him down since Maggie had left. Offering a weak smile, he pert near spewed coffee all over his plate at the sober look on the waitress’s face.
Then again, maybe not.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE<
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Rachel slid into his booth on the other side without missing a beat, her sweet smile like a kick in the gut. “Hello, Blaze,” she said in that soft voice he remembered all too well, an almost breathy, little-girl quality that had always carried an innocence despite the tight dresses and heavy rouge that she wore. But tonight, the low-cut dress and makeup were nowhere in sight. Instead, it was replaced by a modest blue calico with one of Hattie’s aprons and a fresh-scrubbed face that was now as innocent as it was pretty.
“Rachel …” He bolted up in his seat, the motion sending a streak of pain through his skull. “What are you doing here? I thought you worked for room and board at Mrs. Cleary’s.”
She unloaded the rest of the tray with a shy smile, nudging a second plate with biscuits and gravy and fried potatoes his way. “I did for a month or so, but now between waitressing here five nights a week and performing at Mrs. Cleary’s Saturday evening parlour piano recitals, I’m able to pay my own room and board now.”
She folded her hands on the table as her chin edged up almost imperceptibly, a definite hint of pride sparkling in her eyes. “Which now frees my days up to”—her cheeks took on a rosy glow as she chewed on the edge of her lip—“attend Fourth Ward School to get my high school diploma and hopefully be a teacher someday.”
Blaze’s jaw dropped—along with his fork—as he blinked at the woman who’d once served up both drinks and kisses to him not so many months ago. He swallowed hard, suddenly aware that the tables had turned. Once she’d been the lowly saloon girl and he the college-educated foreman of one of the largest cattle ranches in Nevada. Now she was a respectable young woman aspiring to be a teacher and paying her own way.
Heat snaked up the back of his neck when he glanced down at his wet and rumpled white shirt and silk vest, both soiled with vomit and dirty water from the trough. There had been a time when she’d once looked up to him with stars in her eyes, but now all he saw was a look of tender sympathy that scalded his cheeks along with his neck.
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