Dark Journey Home

by Cherie Shaw

  The wind had finally stopped blowing, but the chill in the air was pronounced, as the travelers alit one by one from the vehicle. Claude assisting his wife, then arm in arm they walked toward the long building. Logan lifted Olivia down, and once on the ground she whispered a ‘Thank you’, then attempted to walk away, but Logan had other ideas, and he took Olivia in his arms, gazed down into her eyes, and said, “You know Olivia, that in the morning we’ll be going on to Freeman, the town near my folk’s ranch.

  She nodded, then he continued, “From Freeman I’ll hire a wagon, or a buggy, to take us out to the ranch. We’ll be there in no time at all. However, we’ll likely be snowed in for the next three months, at least.”

  “Yes, I remember you telling us that, Logan.” She answered, gazing up into eyes the color of a stormy sea.

  He continued, “I like you a lot, Olivia.”

  “Oh? You like me?” She asked. Coming from Logan, it was a puzzling statement.

  “Well, no…..that’s not what I meant.” He kept staring at her, hesitating to say more.

  “Oh?” Now angered, she tried to pull away. “You don’t like me? Then let me go.”

  “No.” He sputtered, holding her tighter. “No, that’s not what I mean……what I meant to say is, it’s more…..I more than like you.”

  Olivia jerked out of his arms, put both hands on her hips, and standing there in the freezing cold late afternoon, oblivious to the fact that they were attracting attention, even from Amelia and Claude who had stopped walking and turned to watch, she even shocked herself, as she just blurted out, wishing all the while that it wasn’t really her own voice she was hearing. “Logan Wakefield, if you don’t quit sputtering, and get down to the business of proposing, I’ll never speak………”

  Logan grinned. Taking her once again into his arms, he said teasingly, “I never thought you’d ask.”

  Wrong answer. As he leaned to kiss her, Olivia let loose and slapped him soundly.

  “Now what did I say wrong?” He asked, bewildered, holding his cheek, as she stomped across the hard packed snow toward the Trading Post.

  As Claude and his wife followed, Amelia snickered, “When does it end?” She breathed.

  Claude chuckled, “Theirs, no doubt, will be a stormy marriage, though the spark of anger she shows only conceals the fires that burn deep within her very soul. I’m of the conclusion that Logan chap enjoys watching the flames spark from Olivia.”

  Amelia scolded, “Such an old fool you are, my love, and so full of sentiment, while your niece wastes away, yearning for affection and romance, from a cowboy whose dictionary is so limited in the words of love. That Logan Wakefield needs to take care. Our Olivia may get weary of the games he plays, and take up with the first young cowboy who knows how to speak proper words of love. Maybe even that fresh young Lieutenant.”

  “Hardly likely, my dear.” Mused her husband, “Not from the way I’ve caught my niece stealing glances in the direction of Logan. Give the lass a little time.”

  Amelia scolded, “Ha! Yes, her twenty-sixth birthday is just around the corner. How much more time does that girl need, before she becomes a dedicated ‘Old Maid’?”

  “Olivia could easily pass for a youngster of sixteen, my pet.”

  “Ten years from now, will you still be saying that?”

  As they began walking toward the entrance of the building, they noticed an Indian coming from the direction of the stable, and Amelia gasped, “Mercy, now we have a savage Indian in our midst.”

  “I don’t believe the chap looks all that savage, my dear.” Claude offered, taking his wife’s arm. While the Indian began unhitching the team, another climbed up to remove the luggage from atop the stage. Amelia clutched her coat tighter around her, while Claude succeeded in ushering her to the door, finally getting her out of the cold weather.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was warm inside the Trading Post, and as Olivia hurriedly stepped inside, she noted two large stone fireplaces, one on each end of the long room, and loaded with blazing logs. The beef stew, bubbling in an oversized kettle on an iron stove, put out the most appealing aroma.

  As she walked towards the long table, where the stage driver and his companion were seated, she didn’t notice the cavalry officer pushing through the bat-wing doors leading into the saloon area, nor the way his eyes lit up upon seeing her, nor the way he staggered quickly to approach her, not until it was too late, and he was blocking her way. Lieutenant Harrigan stood so close at that point, that it was all Olivia could do to try and walk around him. He put a hand firmly on her upper arm, detaining her, then slurring his words, he said, “Pretty lady come sit with me. There’s a table for two over by the fireplace. There we can get better acquainted, just the two of us.”

  Olivia could tell the officer had been drinking heavily, and was unsteady on his feet, and she froze on the spot, not knowing how to handle the situation, without creating a scene. She’d already done enough of that for one day. She took a deep breath, then said quietly, “Lieutenant, please let go of my arm immediately.”

  He would not be deterred, feeling in his drunken state, that she was by herself for the moment. He slurred, “Don’t be coy with me, sweetheart. Let’s go over there by the fire, and get better acquainted.” He followed the request with a deep laugh, not knowing that Olivia’s uncle was quickly approaching the officer from behind, that is not until he felt a strong hand grip the back of his collar, and jerk him around forcibly.

  “Unhand my niece at once, young man!” Lord Beckford hissed. As the Lieutenant let go quickly of Olivia’s arm, he stumbled, and it was all he could do to keep his balance.

  Claude noticing at once that the officer had been drinking heavily, felt that he would have not acted so ungentlemanly, had he been sober. But with his anger up, it was all Claude could do not to strike the man. He settled for a very blunt threat, “If I so much as see you within one-hundred yards of my niece again, soldier or not, I will blast you all the way back to the nearest fort, then have you court martialed. And believe me; I can have that done in no time at all.

  Olivia backed away, now completely embarrassed by the whole situation. None had seen Logan enter the room, nor his approach. His eyes blazed a green fire, as he shoved his way to the drunken officer to confront him, then hissed, “Your condition is no excuse, Harrigan, and as for me, I’m not going to let you get by with insulting a decent woman. In these parts, men have been hung for less, but for now maybe this will do. Without warning, and before the officer could get out the sarcasm he was trying to mouth, Logan’s hard fist doubled up, then shot forward, as it smashed into the handsome young Lieutenant’s face, sending him flying backward. The officer lit hard, then slid across the polished wood floor, for about fifteen feet to end at the small table near the fireplace, upending it, along with two chairs as well.

  Loud applause echoed in the room and Olivia, embarrassed and red-faced to the roots of her blonde hair and near to tears as well, glared in Logan’s direction, then turned to sit at the end of the table where the other travelers had been served large portions of hot stew, homemade biscuits, and hot coffee. Lord Beckford stood staring at Logan, with a new respect in his eyes, and Amelia was speechless for a change, while the sobering Lieutenant was slowly picking himself up from the hard floor.

  Two soldiers from the Cavalry unit had entered the room, and, seeing what had happened, began righting the table and chairs, all the time trying not to snicker at the position of their superior officer, but it was a losing battle, and they both broke up into bursts of laughter, though one of the two, a Corporal, said between laughter, “Could I be of assistance, sir?” Harrigan, now fuming with anger, and sobering quickly, suddenly realized just what had happened, and viciously shoved the Corporal out of the way, as he shouted across the room in Logan’s direction, “You ruffian! I’ll have you shot for assaulting an officer of the United States army!”

  Logan answered, “You’ll need lots of help, sonny.” As he sta
rted to walk across the room, staring right at the Lieutenant, who backed up, then with a quick turn, staggered towards the doorway leading to the outside. But Claude had followed Logan, and put a gentle hand on his arm, saying, “Enough, son. Hopefully the young man has learned a hard lesson; maybe the cold air will sober him.”

  Silas Comfort, who had been sitting at a table off in the corner of the room, playing checkers with his hired hand, Carlos, now stood, and approached the two men, reaching out a hand to Logan, saying, “Since that officer came in a few hours ago, we’ve all been wishing we could do just what you did. That arrogant peacock’s been nothin’ but trouble. Thanks, pard. My name’s Silas Comfort an’ I am the proprietor of this place. Always try to keep the peace, an’ when the army comes in, we try to get along. Don’t want trouble with ‘em, but anyway, thanks again.” After introductions were made, and after shaking hands with Logan and Lord Beckford, he walked away laughing to himself.

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  Olivia, seated at the end of the long table, still shocked at what Logan had done and wondering why he had hit the young officer, began sipping the strong black coffee from the mug that had been filled for her as soon as she’d sat down. She preferred tea, but at this point, any hot brew was welcome.

  Logan, approaching the table, took a seat at the end of the bench, nearest Olivia. She stared at him, still in shock, as she sipped the hot coffee. He reached for the pot, then poured himself a mug full.

  This was a different Logan, from the easy-going teasing cowboy she’d known. This was a hard, serious stern man, whom she’d only caught glimpses of in the past, and then even when he was helping take back her uncle’s ranch, he hadn’t been like this.

  Olivia didn’t know this Logan at all. She looked away and began to busy herself with dishing up a small portion of stew from the large serving bowl setting in the center of the table. She tried not to listen, as Logan began talking to her, at least she felt he was looking in her direction, as he talked in a serious deep tone of voice, “Olivia, I would like to talk………”

  She quickly cut him off, glaring at him, “You dare speak to me, after that crude display of temper? You......you….Neanderthal!” Slamming the serving spoon into the bowl, she picked up her fork, though she had suddenly lost her appetite, and began to eat.

  Keeping his anger in check, Logan persisted, as the other diners at the table watched in fascination, “At one end of the room, I was thanked for taking down an egotistical womanizer, then at this end, I am cussed for protecting a lady’s honor. You, Olivia, are an ungrateful, spoiled little…….or do you actually enjoy being accosted by a drunken cavalry officer?” He finished lamely.

  “How….dare….you?” She fumed.

  Regaining his nerve, Logan assured, “Oh, I do dare. Someone has to look out for you, with the trail of simpering idiots you leave behind. What you need, young lady, is a husband. Yes, that is just what you need.” He stated firmly.

  “Oh, talk about egotistical. You lout. I wouldn’t marry you…..if you….were……the last….man on…..Why, I don’t even like you, Mr. Wakefield.” Her voice was rising now, as she went on with her tirade, “Maybe some women like the cave-man type….but I….”

  “All right, Olivia, let’s stop playing games. We’ll do it your way.” He then looked down the table in the direction of Olivia’s uncle. “Sir, I would like your permission to ask for your niece’s hand in marriage.” He asked bluntly.

  Claude Beckford tried to hide a grin, as he answered in all seriousness, “Of course, Logan, you have my permission, and good luck to you.” Olivia glared in her uncle’s direction, astonished at his calm acceptance of the request.

  Turning back to her, Logan said, “What I meant to say in the first place is, well…I’ll only ask once, and if you say ‘no’, that will be final. I won’t push, nor ask again.”

  “Wha…….what?” She whispered.

  “I never asked before,” Logan began, “because I felt we were worlds apart, but the way things are going, now since I’ve given it more thought, maybe we shouldn’t ruin two households with our contrary ways.” He chuckled, then taking a deep breath before his courage left him, took her hand in his, “I repeat, I’ll ask only once.” He began, “Olivia, love of my life, and there’ll never be another, will you….will you….be my wife?”

  Serious green eyes met startled blue ones, as he awaited her answer, then Olivia, tilting her chin up, began, “I told you, Logan Wakefield…...I……I……” Then meekly, looking down, “Y….Yes……I….I…..Alright.”

  “Alright what, Olivia?” He persisted.

  “Alright……I….will….marry you, Logan.” Then as she blinked back the tears that threatened, she quietly added, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Logan reached over, to gently wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye, and said softly. “You’ll never be sorry, Olivia. Once we are married, I’ll never let you go, and I’ll always be faithful.”

  “I know that now, Logan. I was never sure you really…well, cared. I guess….I just….had to know.” She whispered, suddenly thinking, for no reason whatsoever, of the dried rose petals, which she had pressed so carefully into her favorite book of poetry, so many months ago.

  Logan grinned, “Sorry about my temper, but the thought of another man even looking at you……I suppose I should learn to control that spark of jealousy, huh?” The Logan, she had learned to love dearly, was back, and she smiled.

  As Lord Beckford and his wife secretly rejoiced, the other travelers at the table became busy with their dinner, giving Olivia and Logan the privacy they had earned.

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  It was a rugged country, rugged in its magnificence. The skyline to the north spoke of a forest rich with blue spruce, and ponderosa pine; in the lower foothills, grew the tall lodgepole pine, which were used in abundance for the building of cabins. As the northbound stage out of Comfort passed a grove of Aspen, Olivia caught her breath, and clutched Logan’s hand all the tighter, watching a white-tailed deer dart from among the trees, then gracefully leap upwards toward the denser forest. On their right, a glistening waterfall fell from a cliff, to the boulders of a small stream below, while a flurry of snowflakes threatened to freeze the water, as it fell.

  Cold and brisk as the weather was, Olivia loved the scene unfolding. As the struggling team pulled the stage closer to the town of Logan’s childhood, he held an arm around Olivia’s shoulders, grinning in anticipation. He could smell the scent of pine on the cold wind beckoning him home, and with longing and homesickness, he breathed deeply of the essence.

  As the stage rolled on, Amelia slept with her head on her husband’s shoulder, while Olivia was wide awake, still enchanted by her sudden engagement to Logan, and at the same time, entranced by the changing scenery. A softly falling snow was gracefully clothing the countryside in a white veil, and the few misplaced pines along the trail, seemed to take on a majestic crown of white.

  Freeman, Wyoming, with its weather-beaten clapboard buildings, some false fronted, lay in a serene valley, with the skyline of the Black Hills, off to the far northeast. The trail leading into the small settlement was narrow, though widened as the town came into view, through the veil of swirling snowflakes. Freeman hadn’t grown much in the years Logan had been away, but it looked good to him none-the-less, as he stepped down from the stage, his boots crunching the newly fallen snow, then he turned to assist Olivia from the stage, Claude following with Amelia.

  Logan swallowed back the emotion that threatened to overtake him, as he first scanned the quiet street, then as Olivia held onto his arm, and gazed up at his anxious expression, he searched the faces of the small crowd, which had braved the freezing cold and falling snow, to welcome possibly the last stage from Comfort, before the coming blizzard closed the passes, cutting off all travel until spring.

  Seth Wakefield, tall, slim, bent, and white-haired, pulled his battered black Stetson down lower, while hugging his heavy coat tighter around him, as he squi
nted, then blinked through the haze of snow flurries, and over the heads of shorter folks standing in front of him. He’d been driving the rig from the ranch, to Freeman every day for the last week, watching the stage from Comfort roll in, then roll out.

  He knew this might be the last run for the season. The blizzard that had been threatening was due any day now, and from the feel of the icy wind, it would be soon. Once again he watched as the few passengers alit, an older rancher, whom Seth knew, returning from a late cattle drive to the railhead in Kansas, then…….Who was the tall muscular, dark-haired, green-eyed, handsome young man? Their eyes met, and Seth Wakefield wiped a sudden tear from his eyes. He knew at that moment, there could be no mistake. His son had finally come home. Cassandra, Logan’s mother, would be pleased.

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