The Piper_The Eleventh Day

by Amanda McIntyre

  So, too, the laughter from the men playing cards.

  Genevieve cringed at seeing the man’s humiliation. Seeking to restore his dignity she spoke with clear intention. “Mr. Weston, it is my belief that everyone deserves to be happy. And if you and Miss Boum Boum have found such happiness together then I will do all in my power to help the both of you.”

  His smile showed genuine relief. He clasped his hands and blinked a couple of times, fighting back his emotions. With a nod, he pushed to his feet. “I’ll tell her what you said.” He held his hat, appearing uncertain whether to shake her hand or hug her. “I’m mighty obliged to you, Mrs. Walters. Mighty obliged.”

  Chapter 8

  Zeke’s eyes rose to meet the pastor’s concerned gaze.

  “I don’t know where your mind took you just now, son. I suspect nowhere good. Thing you need to know is that your brother’s death wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. Nothing more.” The preacher offered a quiet smile. “That cemetery out there is full of men who had the same dream as your brother. I suppose when you think about it, they made the ultimate sacrifice in trying to find their place in this world. The folks here in Noelle, they’re no different. But it’s those men to whom we owe a great debt. It’s our job to carry on and create that dream they sought and do so in their memory. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Zeke understood clearly now what was the purpose of their plan. He sighed, his soul feeling purged of the guilt he’d been carrying around. It hurt still—it hurt like hell. But he no longer felt alone. He only had to ask himself if he loved Noelle as much as his brother had. Did he have the courage to carry on his brother’s dream and help create the town Clem would have been proud to call home? Zeke glanced at Pastor Hammond. This was Clem’s home now—it would be forever. Zeke owed him that much. But there was still the matter of Genevieve Walters. She had no idea of his identity. She too had moved on—perhaps even had someone back in Denver waiting for her. “What about the matchmaker?” Zeke asked.

  Pastor Hammond tossed him a perplexed look.

  “What does she stand to gain from all of this?”

  “Ah,” the pastor said with a nod. He stood and slipped his hat off the crude hat rack nailed to the wall. “As I am to understand, there were not many who believed Mrs. Walters had the capability to follow through with these marriages. Or, rather, see them to a successful completion. I imagine that marrying off these women would be a feather in her cap back at the Benevolent Society of Lost Souls.” He chuckled. “I haven’t seen the men in this town so productive and enthusiastic since I’ve been here. We’re hoping of course, their enthusiasm will spread to the other single men in town and if all goes well, we hope to employ Mrs. Walters help again.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen a woman with such dedication to her work.” He looked at Zeke. “She’s a widow, you know. Never married again. Devoted her life to helping others find happiness. She told me she still carries her husband’s letters from the war. They were given to her by a young soldier--apparently one of her husband’s officers who’d brought them to her along with the news of his passing.” Pastor Hammond tapped his hat on his head, then fished out a coin and tossed it to Butch. “I’ve had to write many a letter informing family of the death of a loved one, and that in itself is a difficult task.” He studied the ground. “I’ve never had to tell a woman to her face that she’s just become a widow. And after all that young man had probably seen on top of that.”

  The preacher looked, then at Zeke, the kindness in his gaze slicing through the wall Zeke had built around his heart.

  “That had to have taken a great deal of courage under fire,” the pastor said.

  Zeke looked away.

  Pastor Hammond cleared his throat. “Well, at any rate, I suspect that when Mrs. Walters returns to Denver with news of her success the tithes at Eastertide will be a little fatter. That will please her superiors in the clergy.”

  Zeke’s chest weighed heavy realizing the extent to which Genevieve had poured herself into her mission. The thought that came next was for her. Maybe out of guilt, but also out of a true desire to help her mission be a success. “How much time is left?”

  Pastor Hammond gave Zeke a surprised look. He pulled out an old pocket watch and gazed a few seconds at it. “According to Percival who is constantly reminding me, I’d say we’re down to a couple of days. We’d had a wedding scheduled for earlier today” --Pastor Hammond shrugged—"but that didn’t exactly go as planned. Not entirely sure how we’re going to meet our deadline. All the wedding certificates must be signed and witnessed before the morning of January 6th” He glanced at Zeke and offered a hopeful smile. “I’d like to think God provides.”

  “And if all the criteria are not fulfilled by that time, what then?” Zeke asked.

  Pastor Hammond drew his hand over his mouth and sighed. “Well, no rail line will come through Noelle. What business there is will slow down to a crawl. Most folks will try to hold on for as long as possible. But eventually, like so many towns started by mining, they’ll be forced to move on.” He glanced at Zeke. “In short, Noelle will die a slow and painful death.”

  Zeke couldn’t take back the past or the years since. Genevieve had gone on with her life—found a passion that she believed in with helping others. And despite that, he was aggravated that at every turn most of the friends he’d made it seemed had married. And were he to be truthful with himself, he was envious, too--envious that they’d had the courage to follow through, to take a risk in order to save something they loved. Noelle. Maybe he, too, was worthy of love. With guilt gnawing at his gut, but with a greater desire to help Genevieve’s cause, he met the preacher’s gaze. “Is your opinion, preacher, is Penelope Jackson an understanding woman?”

  The Pastor shrugged, pondering the question. He smiled. “Mrs. Walters has a high regard for her—that says a lot, right there. She seems like a very patient and kind person. Mrs. Walters says with the right man she would--”

  “I’ll marry Penelope Jackson.”

  Pastor Hammond’s eyes narrowed as he tipped his head. “Pardon, but did I hear you say that you’d marry Miss Penelope?”

  Zeke nodded. He pushed away that it was a ridiculous idea, in favor of the noble perspective of helping Genevieve succeed. “I will need to get cleaned up first.”

  “Fine idea. Shave and a bath. Two bits.” Butch grinned.

  Zeke shook his head. “Need to finish up a few things first.” He looked at the preacher. “Where and when, Pastor Hammond?”

  Pastor Hammond looked perplexed, but offered a grin. “The Golden Nugget, let’s say eleven-thirty tonight? That will give me time to speak with Seamus about closing up early.”

  Zeke nodded, opened the door and peered out. He looked over his shoulder at the dumbfounded expression on Pastor Hammond’s face. “I have one final request about this.”

  The pastor nodded. “Of course, what is it?”

  “I ask only that the matchmaker not be present at the ceremony.” Zeke waited, gauging the man’s reaction. He saw the uncertainty in the preacher’s expression. “Or we don’t have a deal, agreed?”

  The struggle was plain on Pastor Hammond’s face. “I’ll do my best, son.”

  Chapter 9

  Elated by the sudden turn of events, Genevieve eyed the Christmas tree in the saloon and pondered if Providence had once more intervened.

  In his exuberance, Orvis had swung open the saloon door and nearly bowled over Pastor Hammond. They danced around each other until finally the preacher stepped aside and with a tip of his hat allowed the excited man to pass.

  The wind had calmed by late morning, though the sky had remained mottled gray with patches of blue. The maudlin skies didn’t dampen Genevieve’s mood, however. She had much to share with the preacher. “Pastor Hammond,” Genevieve said as she stood to greet him. “I have some delightful news.”

  Hat in hand, the preachers countenance showed equal excitement. “What a difference a few hours can make, Mrs.
Walters. I also have news that I feel is most joyous.” He stood at the table smiling, but wholly out of breath. “May we sit? I dang near ran back up the street hoping to find you.” He rounded the table and held her chair for her. “Pray tell, Mrs. Walters. You look about to burst. Has there been word of Silas? Has he returned?”

  Genevieve frowned. “No, I’m afraid we’ve seen the last of Silas in Noelle and I doubt Penelope would reconsider even if he were to return.” She smiled. “No, Pastor Hammond, what is done is done. However, there may be another way to resolve our problem.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I’ve just been speaking to Mr. Weston, the man you ran into at the door.”

  The Pastor grinned. “And he has agreed to marry Penelope?”

  “Not exactly.” Genevieve shrugged. “It would seem that Mr. Weston is quite taken with one of Madame Bonheur’s ladies.” She watched his expression to gauge his reaction. He had, after all, been the one to warn against becoming involved with the madam at all costs. “A vindictive woman,” he’d said. “Not the kind you want to tangle with.”

  Pastor turned his hand up to stop her. “Mrs. Walters, we spoke about Madame and agreed not to cause any more of a stir than has already occurred.”

  Genevieve feared that many concessions had to have been made to appease Madame’s moving her business into the old, abandoned saloon across the street from La Maison—no matter how temporary their residency.

  Genevieve met his concerned gaze. “Nonetheless, Pastor Hammond, this may well be the miracle we’ve been looking for.”

  He gave her the signature grin that could charm the corset off a saloon girl—were he not a man of the cloth.

  “You mentioned that you had some news?” she asked.

  He sat forward. “Indeed, I do. I was just at the barber and Kyi-yee walked in. We spoke for some time. Did you know that his brother was killed here at the mine shortly after they arrived? Tragic.” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t say much about it, but I could see from the look in his eyes that the memories are still fresh.”

  Genevieve raised her brows. Of course, she had no knowledge of the man other than he smelled like a three-day carcass and bore more fur than a wooly mammoth. That, and the fact, that he’d avoided her attempts to speak with him as though she had the plague. “I had no idea,” she said, then considered the trauma in the man’s life. “Do you find him fit…mentally, emotionally, Pastor Hammond?” Imposing unexpected issues on any of her ladies wouldn’t be fair, even though Kyi-yee had several times declined her proposal.

  He paused with a reflective stance. “I think he has met his demons for the most part. He asked a great many questions about the contract with the rail line. We discussed what it would mean for Noelle. Oddly enough, he asked about you.”

  “Me?” That did surprise her. Although, giving it a second thought, it might not seem so strange given that she’d chased him like a fool all over town. Still, her curiosity was piqued. Conversing with the hairy man couldn’t be the miracle the preacher referred to, although it was possible. “And, more to the point, what is this miracle, Pastor Hammond?” She nudged him from his reverie.

  “Oh, yes. Yes.” He dismissed his pondering with a wave of his hand. “It seems that Mr. Kyi-yee is willing to marry Penelope Jackson. Whatever you said to him must have persuaded his change of heart. Well done, Mrs. Walters.” He patted her hand.

  No one was more surprised than her. “That is most odd, Pastor Hammond. Since I spent more time chasing after him rather than talking. In fact, it seemed his goal was to escape me at every turn.”

  The preacher’s joyful expression turned confused. He appeared deep in thought. “It’s strange. He did make an odd request, come to think of it.”

  “Of course, one might expect some concessions—compromises, if you will—under the circumstances. What is it?” she asked.

  Pastor Hammond eyed her with a tip of his head. “He asked that you not be present at the ceremony.”

  He might just as well as dumped a bucket of icy water over her head. “What on earth? Why?” she sputtered. “It’s imperative I be there. She’s one of my ladies. I have to be there.”

  Pastor Hammond raised a brow. “Well, now,” he said, speaking slow and easy, “technically, we could get another witness. And legally-speaking, only my name is required on the certificate.”

  Genevieve sat in stunned silence. “I…I don’t know what to say—how I should respond. I--this is utterly ridiculous.”

  Pastor Hammond lifted his hands and shrugged. “Compromise, Mrs. Walters. Think here of the greater good to come of this.”

  “Those were his terms?” she asked.

  He hesitated, studying her. “Yes ma’am. And I agreed to them, because I thought you’d agree to them as well. After all, the point here is getting Penelope married, isn’t that true?”

  Genevieve stood and paced the floor as she thought.

  “Mrs. Walters? Is this going to be an issue?” Pastor Hammond had a worried look in his eye.

  “Where is that insufferable man, now?” she asked, prepared to hunt him down and give him a piece of her mind.

  “He’s gone home to get ready for the wedding. He’s coming here to the saloon by eleven-thirty.” He glanced around her. “Which reminds me, I need to speak with Seamus and ask him to clear the place later this evening for a service.” He stood and tucked his hands in his vest pockets. “Do I have your word, Mrs. Walters that you’ll do nothing to disrupt tonight’s plans? The fate of Noelle may well rest on it.”

  Frustrated, Genevieve turned to him in a huff. What could she do? It was her pride stinging most, nothing more. The outcome was what they’d hoped for. She should be thrilled. And there was still the matter of Orvis, not to mention fulfilling one more spot left open by Agatha. She had greater concerns than whether Mr. Kyi-yee wanted her present at the wedding. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Does Penelope know?”

  Pastor Hammond smiled, appearing relieved. “Not yet. I thought I might let you share the happy news with her.”

  Confounded still by the odd request, Genevieve nodded, and pulled on her shawl around her shoulders. She stepped outside, hesitating as she scanned the street. Down the block, she spotted Penelope, head held high, her stride determined.

  “Mrs. Jackson? Penelope?” Genevieve called as she lifted her skirts to follow.

  The woman showed no signs of slowing.

  “Penelope, may I speak with you?” Genevieve picked up her step, mentally reminding herself to speak with the mayor about installing better walkways on the main street. She noticed bits of straw on the back of Penelope’s skirt. Why would she have been in the stables? Setting aside her curiosity, Genevieve hurried to catch up to her. “Penelope, wait. Please, I must speak with you.”

  Genevieve noted the curious onlookers—businesspeople, mostly, who she’d seen earlier whilst chasing Mr. Kyi-yee. If nothing else, she was certainly making a name for herself in this town as being tenacious. “Penny,” she said, attempting to catch her breath after her swift walk down the main rough and slippery street.

  Penelope stopped suddenly, but did not turn around immediately. Genevieve ascertained that she would have every right to be angry with her. She felt badly about how Silas had behaved and hoped her good news would be welcome.

  “I have some wonderful news, Penny,” Genevieve began, eying once more the straw covered bits on her skirt and jacket.

  Penelope turned on her heel, startling Genevieve. Her gaze locked with Genevieve’s, her eyes wide with a determination. She started to speak, then averted her eyes, her gaze coming to rest on her shoes. “Mrs. Walters…Genevieve. I was just on my way to La Maison…to lie down. I’m not feeling quite myself.”

  Genevieve’s heart twisted. She could see how upset she was. She took her hand and squeezed it. “Penny, I know this day thus far has been dreadful and that you are thinking of giving up on the idea of marriage—perhaps altogether. But I beg you to listen to what I have to say.”

/>   The woman looked away. A wistful sigh preceded a sad smile. “You speak so highly of marriage, yet you choose to be alone. I can’t help but wonder why.”

  Genevieve’s heart faltered at the stark truth of her comment, the words striking too close, but as she’d done many times, she put her own needs aside. “Penelope, I know that you came to Noelle because I asked you to have faith—to try once more. I wouldn’t blame you if you are angry with me.”

  Penny’s soft gray eyes met hers. They were filled with kindness, but also, with resignation. “I bear no ill will toward you.” She studied Genevieve. “It’s simply that I don’t feel I am meant for marriage.”

  Genevieve shook her head and squeezed Penny’s hand. “That is not true. I have never known a woman more suited for marriage. You have so much to offer to the right man.” She hoped her news would bring Penelope a change of heart. “Penelope, Pastor Hammond has found someone.” Genevieve smiled. “He truly meets so many attributes that a woman desires in a good companion.” In truth, she knew little about the man other than from an observational standpoint. “He appears to be well regarded here in Noelle. Friendly with most of the businessmen, seems to have a voracious appetite--”

  “Mrs. Walters?” Penelope interrupted. “Can you not see that I am not meant to marry? Two of my husbands have died, a third has run off. Men cross the street when they see me. See if it’s not true.”

  Genevieve looked over her shoulder and caught a trio of miners, chatting until they saw the two women. Glancing odd looks at them, the three crossed the street and resumed their walk to the Golden Nugget. “They were going to the saloon, Penelope.”

  The woman shook her head.

  Genevieve persisted. “Miners are a suspicious lot. We’re both are well aware of this fact. This man is different. He doesn’t work for the mine. He is self-made. Strong. Resilient.”