by Carré White
Her arm went over my shoulder. “I am. I know you loved him once. I know it pains you that he’s fallen for her, Willow. I can see the hurt in your eyes. We mustn’t glory in the misfortunes of others, no matter how abhorrent their behavior. It’s sad really, the way they’ve been carrying on. It shows a lack of character. She’s desperate for attention, and I’m hopeful, now that William has returned, he’ll give her what she needs.”
“You’re younger than me. You’re not supposed to be smarter.”
She grasped my face, surprising me. “You will find love,” she said fiercely. “I know you will. Somewhere out there is a man who will offer his hand to you because he loves you and he can’t go on another day without you. Do you understand me?”
Tears were in my eyes, as I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll burn the letter. I shall never mention it again. I’m sorry I took pleasure in their misfortune.”
“Thank you, Willow. It’s the right thing to do.”
“But, if he’s determined to contact her, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“No. If they persist in this, they’ll be exposed, but the blood won’t be on our hands.”
I hugged her. “I love you, Leona.”
“I love you too.”
Chapter Six
While I busied myself with work, I thought about William and Cybele, realizing that I had always been envious, even jealous of their relationship. Now that I had read the secret letter, I saw things in an entirely different light, and, as the days and weeks wore on, as Thanksgiving neared, I no longer envied them. Seeing Cybele in town, smiling, laughing, and now I could clearly see—flirting, it became clear that William had attached himself to a silly, faithless woman.
The first snowstorm of the season had arrived mid-October, with a hearty walloping of several feet worth of snow, the thoroughfare being completely blocked, although we had all been enlisted to shovel the portion of road before our businesses. This labor would continue on and off all through winter. My sister and I were quite adept at handling a shovel. Pa had finished the extra rooms in the attic, although the space was drafty. There were less miners boarding now, because searching for gold in these conditions was not only difficult, but also hazardous. Avalanches were frequent on the mountain, and traveling through five feet of snowdrifts was a challenge.
Benjamin’s courtship of my sister continued happily, and their relationship had grown gradually, although I knew she was in love, as the look on her face gave it all away. He was smitten as well, and there wasn’t a day that didn’t go by when he wasn’t able to visit us, even with a blizzard diminishing visibility to only three feet or so. The inhabitants of Cripple Creek were a hardy bunch, and snow was not an impediment to our daily lives.
Occasionally the miners brought news, mostly from other mining towns, such as Clear Creek, Golden City, Breckenridge, and Fairplay. They were eager to continue their hardrock mining, as the gold in the shallow parts of the veins was still plentiful and easy to obtain. The approaching winter would challenge them, but they were determined to get rich. The rumors persisted that Denver City was booming, flush with the influx of miners and the businesses that supported them. The tide of migration would soon affect all of us, as we hoped Congress would recognize that we were no longer a part of the Kansas Territory. But they were too distracted over the debate with slavery to grant us autonomy at the moment. It was due time that we became known as the Territory of Colorado.
Days before Thanksgiving, while making piecrust, I had an unexpected visitor. “Can we help you, sir?” asked Ellen.
I glanced up, seeing William Stanford standing in the doorway, with his hat in his hands. “I’m sorry to intrude. Could I have a word with Willow, please?”
Panic registered, thinking that he somehow knew that I knew about Cybele’s faithlessness, but that would be impossible. “I’ll just wash my hands.” I dunked them in a bowl of water, using a cloth afterwards. “What is it?”
“I…” he glanced at Ellen, “It’s private. I…just wish a word with you.”
Now panic truly set in. I had burned that letter! I never said another word about it to anyone. How on earth could this be happening? “Very well.” I followed him down the hallway to the stairs. It was too cold to go outside without a jacket, and I hadn’t brought one, but he suddenly gave me his, handing me a heavy overcoat. “Th-thank you.”
He opened the door, as we stepped out into the crisp morning, my feet encountering snow. The kitchen garden had long since perished. A new round of growth would have to wait until spring.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Willow.” His hands went into his pockets.
“Aren’t you cold? You should have your jacket back.”
“No, I’m fine. This won’t take long.”
I gazed at him, finding his features as pleasing as I remembered. “You seem to be doing well with freighting.”
“Things have slowed now, but that’s not what concerns me at the moment.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m going to marry Cybele.”
I waited for the jab that I was sure to feel piercing my heart, but it failed to materialize. “Congratulations.”
“She’s accepted me.”
“That’s wonderful.” Yet I had to wonder why his expression was so morose, or did I have to wonder?
“I should be over the moon with elation, and I thought I would be…” He gazed at nothing in particular.
But?
“I can’t help thinking….”
What?
“If things had been different between us…”
If I hadn’t been stricken with the smallpox and scarred for life?
“I don’t know.” He met my gaze; his pale blue eyes were filled with confusion. “We were once so close. You were always my first choice, did you know that?”
I swallowed with effort. “I remember your companionship. I think back fondly on it.”
“I want to apologize to you.”
“For what?”
“For being stupid and immature.”
“I…don’t understand, sir.”
“When you got sick…when you nearly died, my mother wouldn't let me see you.”
“She was protecting you from catching what I had. That’s to be commended.”
“But after…after you recovered. There really was no excuse for not resuming our friendship. I missed your company greatly. I always felt we had an easy rapport. Even today, you’re one of the most companionable women I’ve ever met. You listen without interruption; you’re supportive and wise. I’ve missed that over the years.”
“We grow up and change, William. Nothing stays the same.”
“But it should have!” he exclaimed. “Mother had a point, but, after you recovered, I should’ve treated you the same. I feel dreadful about it. You must’ve thought I stayed away because of the scars. That’s not true.”
“You were always fond of Cybele as well, from what I remember.”
“I suppose.”
“Are you asking for my forgiveness? If so, then you have it. I feel no ill will towards you. I wish you nothing but the best.”
“I don’t deserve that.” He glanced at his feet. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”
“It’s my fault too. I could’ve sought you out. I stayed away as well.”
“You’ve become reclusive and shy. I think I know why.”
“My face frightens people. I…loathe their reactions, to be honest. It’s easier to keep to myself.”
“But you shouldn’t. You mustn’t feel that way.”
He hadn’t a clue what it was like to be stared at wherever he went, with people whispering behind his back. “I’m perfectly happy in my life, sir. I’ve enough work to keep me occupied, a family who loves me, and a strong desire to continue to be of service to them. I also love to cook. It brings me a measure of joy.”
“I’m keeping you from your work.”
He seemed utter
ly dejected, which was perplexing. For someone recently engaged to the prettiest woman in town, his attitude was quite the opposite of what I had expected. “Again, congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I’m sure it’ll be beautiful. When do you plan on doing it?”
“In the spring.”
“I’m sure Cybele’s beside herself with plans and dresses and things. It must be exciting. My sister might be engaged shortly too. She’s seeing Benjamin Lloyd, as you must know by now. Nothing’s a secret in this town.”
“Is…” he looked almost pained, “is there anyone for you?”
“How do you mean?”
“Is there someone you might picture yourself with?”
That question was entirely unexpected, and the most bizarre thing happened, as an image went through my mind. A face appeared briefly of a scruffy-looking man with friendly, smiling eyes. Mr. Hindman. That was odd.
“No, sir. Not yet.”
“When you do find your ideal mate, I hope you’re able to trust him,” he said cryptically.
“Pardon?”
“I, oh, never mind.”
The moment had grown heavy suddenly, as the weight of something unpleasant hung between us. Did he know of his fiancés unfaithfulness? Should I say something to him on this subject? Before I was able to contemplate this further, the door swung open, as Leona appeared.
“Oh, there you are! Ellen’s been asking for you.” She glanced at Mr. Stanford. “Hello, William. How are you? Aren’t you freezing, sir?”
“I am, but it was worth it.”
Grasping the heavy overcoat, I handed it to him. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.”
“It was lovely talking to you. There really is no reason you and I can’t continue our friendship. Please come eat with us whenever you wish. I’ll come out to talk to you, if you let me know you’ve arrived. I’d love to hear more about the wedding plans and things. It’s all very exciting.”
His look was bland, yet there was sadness in his eyes. “Thank you. You’ve been far kinder to me than I have ever been to you.”
Leona hadn’t let go of the door; her worried expression had taken on an edge. I was sure she thought I had divulged the secret letter. “Think nothing of it,” I said with forced gaiety. “I should go. Please give my regards to your fiancé, and tell her that I’m happy for her good fortune. She’s lucky to be connected to you. You shall both be very happy, I’m sure.” I reached the door, as a shiver went through me. Without the coat, it was absolutely freezing. “Good day, William.”
“Good day.”
In the hallway, Leona grabbed my arm. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing! I swear to you, nothing.”
“What were you doing with him?”
“He wanted to talk to me. It was quite odd actually. I don’t know what that was about. He apologized for not being a better friend. Isn’t that strange?”
“That’s all?” She didn’t believe me.
“Yes. I never once mentioned the letter. It’s dead and buried for all I care. Their troubles are none of my concern. I do feel sorry for him, Leona. He’s about to attach himself to someone he doesn’t love. Isn’t that sad?”
“Why would he talk to you about such private matters?”
“I don’t know.”
“This makes little sense.”
I sighed. “Maybe he’s regretting his choices, and he realizes it’s too late.”
“He’s irrevocably tied to her now.”
My smile was grim. “Yes, you’re right about that.”
Chapter Seven
There were three turkeys, which had been run through with an iron spit, grilled in the hearth, while a fourth and fifth waited in the wings. The Thanksgiving day buffet would run from eleven to four in the afternoon, serving whoever wished to attend, whether they had procured a room at the hotel or not. Ellen, Leona, mother, and I had been up since daybreak preparing for the feast. Although not an official holiday yet, the Kansas Territory had issued its yearly proclamation, encouraging everyone to give thanks in this festival of gratitude.
“It already smells delicious,” said pa, who had stopped by.
Ellen was basting the birds with butter. “It’s going to be one for the Brady history books, sir. Willow’s makin’ Marlborough Pudding.”
He patted his belly. “I’m looking forward to that.”
Leona brushed past him with a dozen plates in her hands. “We’ll be fair to bursting after we eat.”
“That’s fine by me,” he said, grinning.
“Can you bring more hardwood, dear?” asked mother. “We’ll need it for the other turkeys.”
“Certainly. I’ll gladly be of service, but first,” he snatched a small square of cornbread off a plate, “I should taste this.”
“Stop that,” mother chastised. “You can wait to eat like the rest of us.”
He’d already popped the food into his mouth. “Um…hum…”
“Go get the firewood.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chortled. “The smell is really something wonderful.”
“It’s the turkey,” I said. “I’m eager to have a taste myself, but I’ve stuffing to make and everything else.”
In a flurry of activity, we baked, basted, and mashed, working ourselves to dizzy exhaustion, but not before there were several large pots filled to the brim with stuffing, mashed potatoes, and the pudding. Leona flitted back and forth setting tables, bringing out cups and dishes, and scrambling into the basement for the butter, which was kept on ice.
At precisely eleven o’clock, the doors opened, and the first of many hungry men, women, and children arrived. We would eat as a family after everyone had left, although I had tasted things as I went. Ellen helped herself to the rest of the sherry, sitting near the turkeys, drinking while basting.
“Good, good. It’s all good.” Her cheeks were rosy, her expression gay. “I’ll just mind the birds.”
“You’re drunk.” My hands went to my hips.
“No, ma’am.”
“Yes, you are,” I giggled.
“We’re nearly all done now. Why can’t I have a little sip?”
Leona appeared. “I need four more plates, please, and three puddings.”
“I’ll get it.”
“When you have a moment, someone’s asked for you.”
It didn't surprise me that a patron had wanted to thank me for the meal. “Fine, but I’m not the only cook today. Everyone deserves whatever accolades may come.” I gave her the plates in question, after they had been piled high with food. “Here.”
“You can bring the pudding. That’ll save me a trip.”
I gave her a look. “Oh, fine, but I’m hardly qualified. You’re far friendlier, and everyone adores you.”
She had gone already, but her reply was, “Poppycock!”
I hated having to leave the security of the kitchen, especially after working like a mad woman all day, with flour on my face and wisps of hair escaping the frilly cap. I untied the apron, brushing off a bit of dough from the right sleeve of the dress.
“I’ll be back. Try not to fall in, Ellen.”
She saluted me with a full glass. “Good luck and blessings.”
“Oh, dear,” I laughed. “I guess Leona and I will be doing the dishes later.” I hurried out with the pudding, leaving it on several tables, as Leona indicated. The person who had requested my presence sat near the window, and I recognized him instantly, feeling my heart skip a beat. Mr. Hindman had returned! “Hello, sir.” My smile was genuine, as I stood before him. He was thinner than I remembered, and I wondered if he had been ill. “How are you?”
“Tired,” his bleary eyes scanned my face, “but happy to see you.” He waved to the empty seat across from him. “Join me for a spell.”
I sat, resting my hands on the table, while staring at him, finding the sunken quality of his cheeks alarming. “Did you enjoy the meal?”
“I did. You’re more open today than I
remember.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “I suppose. You look thinner, sir.”
“Food wasn’t as plentiful as I had hoped.”
“Shall I bring out another plate then?”
“In a bit. I longed to see you again. There’s something comforting about you.”
That statement was extraordinarily revealing and personal. “I’ve…I’ve hardly said more than a few sentences strung together. I’m still only a stranger to you.”
“Perhaps. You seem happier. More relaxed.”
“Maybe this is how I am with friends? I was shy at first. I didn’t know you. I still don’t know you, sir.”
He sighed. “I should change that.” He glanced out the window. “It’s barren now and cold. So…bitterly cold.”
I identified the emotion I had sensed in him. It was sadness. “What happened, sir? You seem a bit out of sorts.”
“I’m too old to go chasin’ the dreams of younger men. I thought I’d do fine, but nobody tells you about the bitter cold. Food runs out, Willow. Then all there’s left is snow. I didn’t see another soul for weeks. I could’a died, and nobody would’ve cared or known.”
“I’m glad that didn’t happen.” He was safe now, and soon he would be on the mend.
“My money’s nearly gone. I’ll be stayin’ in one of the tents out there.”
Worry rippled through me. “But it’s so cold, sir.” He would freeze and catch an illness. “I’ll talk to my father. I’m sure he can do something for you.” I got to my feet. “I’ll be back.”
“No, don’t!”
But I had gone already, hurrying towards where his office was located and finding him behind the desk with a quill in his hand. “Pa! Someone needs a place to stay, but he’s low on funds.”
“We’re already giving away a weeks’ worth of food today, Willow. What more do you want from me?”
“We’re not using the attic rooms. He can stay there. I’ll just give him extra blankets.”
“The bed’s not made.”
“I’ll send Milly up at once.”
“Fine, but don’t do this again. I’m not running a charity, Willow, for heaven’s sakes.”
“Thank you!” I dashed down the hallway, slowing to a respectable walk as I reached the dining room, which was filled with people, the aroma of turkey lingering. Mr. Hindman was seated still. “It’s done then.”
