by Jo Noelle
Millie nodded toward Julianne’s parents. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Callum’s sister, Millie.” Her hand motioned toward Hugh. “This gentleman who came to our rescue is Mr. Hugh Fontaine.” She turned her head toward him and nodded. “And we are most grateful.”
Eugene Theodore’s disapproving stare swung toward Hugh and deepened. Julianne noticed that no one was introducing him. It was just as well. How does he not realize I’d left Chicago to leave him behind?
Millie cheerfully added, “We best be getting home. I have a supper to put on. Reverend and Mrs. Parker, you can have the loft to sleep in. Your friend may sleep in the back of the church.” To the junior pastor, she said, “You’ll make yourself a pallet.”
To Julianne’s relief, Hugh said, “I’ll give the ladies a ride.” Then he helped Millie and Julianne up to the seat.
Hugh accepted the reins from Willie, who jumped into the back of the wagon. Not another word was said during the first mile while Callum and the rest of their party followed in the wagon behind them. She hoped they were stunned into silence as well. That would be much better than the alternative.
They bumped along the now-familiar road to Bachelor. Julianne knew that when they arrived at the church, she’d have to explain to her parents why she left and how she financed the trip and what she intended to do. The telegram revealed that her parents had been sick with worry for her, but she hadn’t returned a message to them, not knowing what to write. How would she explain her desire to determine her own life, to find her own way? She meant no disrespect. After all, they had raised her with a charitable heart that led her to seek out this place where she could serve. She was certainly of age and didn’t need their permission. Still, she found that when she had looked into their faces moments ago, she wanted their love and support. She prayed that somehow she would know what to do when the time came.
As soon as she dismissed that train of thought, foremost in her mind was talking to Hugh. They were well over the halfway mark to Bachelor. She was running out of time. The rattle of the crates and bottles within the boxes filling the wagon’s bed was loud enough that maybe she could speak with him when Millie wouldn’t be able to hear. She didn’t really want to have this conversation. Her chest hurt. She hoped he would dismiss her worries and let her know that she erred in what she thought he was carrying.
Julianne wished…but she had no confidence. The epiphany rolled into the bottom of her gut, leaking its poison, spoiling and sickening her hopes. She tugged at her sleeves, then fisted her hands together and pushed them into her lap. She hadn’t perceived how little dreams of a life with him had been growing and weaving together, taking root. Each weak on its own, but taken together, her visions of their future together were strong and painful to release.
Why had she never thought to ask him about his business?
And he hadn’t offered.
Julianne’s teeth worried her bottom lip, holding back the question. Maybe she didn’t want an answer. No, right now she definitely didn’t want to know…because she already did. The words, however, crept forward like a cat in the shadows, and as if the words bit the end of her tongue, they rushed out. “Your wagon is rather full, Mr. Fontaine.”
She noticed him stiffen. His expression was completely unreadable until a dimple near the back of his cheek deepened momentarily as his jaw clenched. He had heard her, but he was slow to answer, and her dreams unraveled a little more. There could be no denial with the evidence rattling and sloshing behind them, and Julianne was positive he wouldn’t try. He was an honest man, wasn’t he? Well, she had only implied a question and hadn’t really asked one.
So she asked what was on her mind. “Are you a saloon owner as well, Mr. Fontaine?”
He sighed and closed his eyes before he answered her simply. “Yes, ma’am.” He sounded regretful. “And a gambler.” He nodded his head once as if to punctuate the confession, then flicked the reins to move his team a little faster.
Though neither moved, the distance between them grew and thickened. The comfort and closeness she had felt several days ago withered under the heat of that disclosure. If she had known this days ago would it have changed anything? She didn’t know. Neither she nor Hugh said another word. Millie hadn’t spoken since sitting down. They all shifted and swayed as the wheels crunched over the rocks toward home.
Mr. Fontaine delivered Julianne to the church and then drove away. She watched to see if he would look back. He didn’t. She felt her dreams stretch between them as the distance increased until the road made a bend, and his wagon disappeared. Then the dream snapped, her mind numb and her chest empty.
She found herself in a kitchen chair, her father pressing his handkerchief into her palm. She hadn’t realized she was crying. She didn’t sob. Only silent tears trailed her cheeks and wouldn’t stop. Although her parents were with her now, this wasn’t the kind of ache a mother could soothe.
Julianne couldn’t stop the memories flickering in her head. He had battled into the mob—for her. He had taken a beating, and his only concern was to protect her.
Early in the evening, Julianne retreated to her bed, not ready to talk with her parents. She sat on her bed in the loft with her book of Psalms, but told herself her eyes were too hot and swollen to read. She wouldn’t search the words or seek comfort tonight. Too much had been taken away. Night slowly filled her room with shadows, then gray, then deepening black.
She hadn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time, waking again and again, remembering the good and bad of the previous day. Night brings out its own—the dark, the troubled, the devastating thoughts buried deep in people’s hearts. With each of her awakenings came the overwhelming realization that she and Hugh had very different lives. Different goals. Different values. Their paths diverged.
Does it have to be? Must each of us walk alone now?
There was no simple resolution to her confusion because she didn’t understand it herself. The Presbyterian Church had long been vocal about the evils of alcohol and advocated abstaining. She’d heard about the temperance movement but hadn’t been involved, nor had her parents, as far as she knew.
Until now.
She punched her pillow and rolled over. It was no use. Even the heavy quilt on top of her wasn’t enough comfort to bring sleep.
When morning broke nighttime’s grip on her heart, she was grateful for her daily chores and threw herself into the work. As she fed the chickens and gathered the eggs, she compared her experiences in Chicago, where she saw little of the evils of alcohol, with her experiences in Colorado, where liquor played a decided role in the moral decay. She didn’t want to be a part of that.
By late morning, Julianne sat on the porch and kept her hands busy shelling the new peas picked after breakfast. She popped the end open and slid her finger into the bottom of the shell, pushing the peas into her bowl, then cast the hull away. Julianne wished her mind was more fully taken up with the mundane task so she wouldn’t have noticed as Eugene Theodore scooted his chair entirely too close and had been running his mouth non-stop since she started. Thankfully, no contribution by her would be required, leaving her to consider more important events.
After he’d droned on about the superiority of living in Chicago compared to the rocky desolation of the West, he turned his discourse to the blessed state of matrimony. Julianne sighed. She had only shelled half the bucket and seemed to be a captive audience for another dry oration.
Giving himself too much consequence and the words too much emphasis, the man intoned, “It is a husband’s responsibility, the man’s responsibility, to ascertain the best course of action for the family members to take…”
More rubbish. Julianne disregarded his current rant, her thoughts wandering back to Hugh. They’d parted company, at least physically, but he was in her musings and silent prayers that day. She was confused about what to petition of the Lord for Hugh, or for her and Hugh, or for herself, but she had faith that the Lord knew, so she simply prayed, �
�Thy will be done.”
Though she felt that Hugh hadn’t been completely honest with her, still, he’d been there for her. The bruise under her eye had darkened now, and likely Hugh’s would have too.
It didn’t appear that Reverend Theodore needed to breathe—ever. “As I’ve considered my upcoming wedding…”
Julianne wondered who he might be marrying—poor girl. She had fled hundreds of miles to avoid that fate.
Julianne thought back to arriving in Colorado and her first meeting with Hugh. He’d been a perfect gentleman, under the circumstances. He’d assisted her and then delivered her to Reverend Bing. The more she had come to know her new town, the more gratitude she felt for his insistence that he protect her that day too. She felt certain that underneath the layer of a barkeep and a gambler, Hugh Fontaine was a good man.
Reverend Theodore’s nasally voice broke into her thoughts again. “The scriptures remind us that the husband is the head of the wife. It is left to us to decipher what that might mean. The head could only mean the one in charge, the one who does the thinking and directing, if you will…”
No—pretty sure I never will. Julianne leaned down to pull another pile of pea pods onto her apron.
Perhaps she’d made too swift a judgment. Maybe she should talk with Hugh, listen to him. If they had spoken after his confession, then maybe the break between them wouldn’t have been so complete. The momentary glimmer of hope she felt was snuffed out when she considered what more he could say. It was over. His stoic, disconnected expression confirmed that when he’d driven away.
Eugene’s voice raised in pitch and in volume. “Husbands would do well to follow the counsel that men should love their wives as Christ loved the church.”
What? Julianne thought that might be the only sensible thing she’d ever heard this man say. Of course, it was still ridiculously theatrical when he pounded his fist in the air as if hitting a pulpit.
“And how did He love it? He loved the church with laws and punishments, requiring strict obedience.”
Oh, wait. There he is. This is still Reverend Theodore. Julianne put down the pea pod in her hand to reply. “Or perhaps, He loved the church so much that He gave His life for it, meaning that sacrifice was of greater importance.”
The young pastor ignored her pointedly by glancing at her then away without any real recognition but only dismissal when he continued, “As your fiancé…”
Julianne jumped to her feet. Pea pods skittered across the porch. She barely steadied the bowl of peas in her arms before it spilled. “Fiancé? We are not engaged!”
With a flat, confident voice, he said, “Promised, then.” He stood beside her and rocked from his heels to his toes and back again.
“There is no understanding between us.” Julianne shook her head. “Nor will there ever be one.”
“You are a fallen woman in the eyes of many in our congregation. You left without escort to who knew where, to do who knew what.” Eugene’s nose scrunched and his forehead wrinkled as he sniffed deeply. “My proposal comes at great sacrifice to myself, giving up the opportunity of sharing a life with a more pious woman.”
“Of all the idiotic…” She needed to get away from him but discovered she couldn’t pick up the bucket of pea pods right now as she’d likely thwack him across the head with it.
Eugene stepped between her and the door. “But my respect for your father and the opportunity to work with him makes my sacrifice tolerable.”
“I would never find you an acceptable husband. The answer is now, and will forever more remain, no.”
“I shall give you a day to reconsider my offer.” He sidestepped, and Julianne stomped past him into the house. Good. In a day, he’ll leave.
Julianne tossed the bowl onto the cabinet and stormed around the house looking for her parents. She’d set this straight now. If that was the reason they had come out to Colorado, they ought to know they could leave. Without her.
They weren’t there.
She charged back out, pushing past Eugene as he was coming in. When he made a step to follow her, she twisted around. “Stop. I’ll speak to my parents without you.” Then she marched around the building to the church door.
When she opened the door, she heard her father’s voice. “It’s a fine lectern, Callum. I’d appreciate being on your list of potential customers.”
“Father, Mother, I’d like to speak with you.” Julianne noticed the words hissed through her teeth with a little anger behind them. Her hands were pressing into her hips, and she had to consciously choose to drop them to her side.
“These are beautiful quilts.” Her mother waved her to come over. “Come see them, dear.”
Julianne stayed in the doorway. If she moved, she thought she’d lose the little control she was maintaining. Her fingers reached out to grip the doorjamb. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to have an important conversation, but it would have to do. “I’d rather not.” The words sprang out of her more harshly than she expected. Even at that, she wasn’t sorry and wouldn’t call them back.
Millie and Callum glanced at her, then Millie said, “Oh, how the day has flown. We’ve some things to attend to, Callum.” She smiled at Julianne as they hurried out the door.
Julianne’s father followed her mom down the center aisle until they stood in front of her. “It seems you’d like to speak with us.” He waved his hand toward two benches.
Once they’d settled, the little group was silent—completely silent—Julianne because she needed to calm, and her parents most likely out of a little caution. Julianne didn’t know how to start. She couldn’t sit. She lurched to her feet, then paced between the benches to the other side of the room and back.
She stopped in front of them and blurted, “You’ve traveled a long way for nothing.” As she walked again to the other side of the room, she wondered how to make them understand her desire to determine her own life and choices. She continued to pace. “I left Chicago of my own free will.” Julianne felt her resolve behind the words. She hoped it wasn’t stubbornness. “I won’t be going back.”
Mrs. Parker opened her mouth to speak, but Julianne turned and walked away, though her words charged ahead. “I’m of age. I can make a choice to live my life as I see fit. And I have. Colorado is my new home. I have made arrangements to start a school here.”
She stopped pacing and spun around to face her parents. “I won’t marry that pompous, domineering, cocky, sniveling junior pastor you brought along. I’ll not be forced into a loveless marriage.”
“I agree.”
“He has no regard for me, and I certainly do not respect him… What?” Julianne stared at her father, realizing he’d spoken.
“I said, ‘I agree.’” Her father’s voice was soft, but firm. “It wasn’t our purpose to force you into marrying him.”
“Then why did you bring him along?” She looked between her parents as they looked toward each other, a kind of silent conversation between them.
Her mother spoke up. “We didn’t. He followed us.”
Julianne’s mouth hung open, and she snapped it shut. That she could believe. He had been inserting himself like a wedge into her life and her father’s for months until the split had become critical.
Her father walked toward her. “For weeks before you left, he assured me of your affection for him, though we didn’t see it. Your mother and I tried not to interfere, though we’d had hopes for you to find love. We didn’t know what to think, so we didn’t stop him. I can see you are quite passionate against him.” His gaze looked half-pained and half-pleading. “I should have spoken with you. I’m sorry I drove you away from us.”
Relief swelled within her. She threw her arms around her father’s shoulders and buried her face in his coat. “Thank you,” she whispered as she breathed the familiar scents of peppermint and wool.
Julianne felt her mother’s arm around her back and turned her head toward her, enjoying the hug that reconciled them. They stood together,
savoring their reclaimed peace. Finally, Julianne asked, “Why did you come, then?”
Mrs. Parker brushed her hand over Julianne’s forehead, smoothing some stray hairs away from her bruised eye and cheek. “We came to visit you. To see your new home. To show you we support your independence.”
Her father added, “We’re proud of you.”
Julianne wrapped her parents in her arms again. “I love you both so much.”
“We’ll stay for a visit, if that’s all right.” Her father’s smile lit his eyes.
“And I’d like to help prepare the school,” her mother added. “Education has a way of taming people. I think this place could use it.”
“I’m so glad you came.” Julianne held her parents by the hands and walked to the door. When she dropped their hands, she said, “I’m going to tell Pastor Theodore to leave.” She grabbed Eugene’s satchel from the makeshift bed on her way out the chapel door.
Julianne found him sitting in on the porch, perched on the edge of the chair. He stood as she approached followed by her parents.
“We’re all agreed,” Julianne said, thrusting his valise toward him. “I won’t be marrying you so I’m inviting you to leave. Now.” When he didn’t reach to take it, she dropped it at his feet.
“But…” Reverend Theodore’s eyes flicked to Julianne’s parents.
“We’re all agreed,” Reverend Parker confirmed.
Eugene lifted his chin in the air. “I won’t condescend to ask you again, Miss Parker. You’re making a mistake. You all are.” Maybe he stood there believing that one of the three would beg him to stay or even say they were sorry, but no one said a word.
Julianne could only smile at his declaration, which the junior pastor seemed to find rude and sniffed in her direction. “Well, I needn’t stay,” he said to Reverend Parker.
“Good,” Julianne answered. “If you start walking now, you’ll easily reach Creede in time to get a room at a hotel. The train comes back in a few days.”
