GRACE’S DREAM
by
Agnes Alexander
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Published by
WHISKEY CREEK PRESS
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Copyright © 2015 by Agnes Alexander
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-68146-143-4
Credits
Cover Artist: Kelly Martin
Editor: Melanie Billings
Printed in the United States of America
Other Books by Agnes Alexander Available at Whiskey Creek Press:
www.whiskeycreekpress.com
Fiona's Journey
Quinn's Promise
Rena's Cowboy
Edwina's Husband
Camilla's Daughter
The Island
Amelia's Marriage
A Bought Bride
State Murder Series
Murder in North Carolina
Murder in Georgia
Murder in South Carolina
For my wonderful critique group:
Nancy Gates, Helen Goodman, Harol Marshall,
Betty DiMeo, and Cindy Poindexter
Chapter 1
Wyoming 1879
After the mid-day meal, Grace Hunter finished cleaning off the last table in Olsen’s Hotel dining room and picked up the tray of dirty dishes to take to the kitchen. She was careful because her pronounced limp made it hard not to let some of the utensils fall off the tray.
Grace had limped since she was seven years old. It happened at school during recess while the children were on the playground. A violent storm arose, and lightning hit the big oak in the corner of the schoolyard. As the children scrambled to get inside, a limb from the tree fell across Grace’s ankle almost severing her foot. Though the doctor was able to save the foot, she was left with a permanent limp that became no better or worse as she grew into a young woman.
Inside the kitchen she found Henrietta Olsen, the hotel owner’s wife, with her hands immersed in soapy dishwater. “This is all of them.” Grace deposited the stack of dirty dishes on the counter beside Henrietta’s dishpan.
“I’m glad we’re about through,” Henrietta said. “Sophie’s fever isn’t getting any better, and I’m going to take her to see Doctor Wagner as soon as I finish up here.”
“I know you said she had a fever this morning. Is she worse?”
“She says her throat is sore, and she can’t eat anything. She’s still awfully hot, and I’m afraid she’s coming down with something other than one of those awful spring colds.”
“I told you I’d wash them dishes.” Effie Vaughn, the cook turned from the worktable where she was seasoning a turkey. “It won’t hurt for them to set ’till I go to the mercantile and get a bag of sugar. I’m running low and I was gonna make a cobbler for tonight.”
Henrietta shook her head. “You work hard enough, Effie. I have no intention of letting you take on more responsibilities in this kitchen.”
Grace touched her elbow. “I’ll be glad to wash the dishes for you, Henrietta.”
“But you usually rest your bad leg on Saturday afternoon. You know things sometimes get busy around here on Saturday night.”
“I’m not at all tired, and my leg is fine. Now, go ahead and take Sophie to the doctor. If she’s feeling better, we might need her to help out in the dining room if we have a lot of business tonight.”
Henrietta dried her hands. “Thank you, Grace. There are two men in jail today that have to be fed. In case I’m not back in time to take their supper, get Teddy to help you.”
“We’ll get ’em fed if you’re not back in time.” Effie finished seasoning the huge turkey and stooped to shove it in the oven for the evening’s meal.
Grace and Henrietta only smiled at each other. They were used to Effie Vaughn’s abrupt way of speaking and knew she didn’t require a reply.
Henrietta left and after finishing the dishes, Grace turned to Effie. “Would you like for me to go get the sugar for you? Wilma and I are going to the Circle 2 ranch to visit Amelia in a few days. We need to finish discussing our plans.”
“That’d be nice of you, Grace. I still got the other turkey to get in the oven.”
“I won’t be gone long.”
As Grace started down the plank sidewalk, she heard the rattle of the stage coming in. She wondered if there would be passengers wanting to eat in the dining room. Though they were always open for business, seldom did anyone come in to eat between dinner and supper. She paused to see who got out of the stage.
She noticed Hal and Marjorie Cramer sitting in their buggy on the other side of the street and wondered if their daughter, Juliette was coming home. The girl had been away at boarding school for six years and Grace hoped the experience had changed her. Though Juliette had always been beautiful, when they were in school together, she was shy and retiring. She had no real friends and kept mostly to herself. Grace and her friends, Amelia, Nelda and Wilma had tried to include her in their circle, but Juliette didn’t or wouldn’t respond to their offers of friendship. When Juliette was fourteen her parents decided a school away from Settlers Ridge might be the thing to help her overcome her shyness and carted her off to St. Louis.
Before the stage door opened, Grace noticed Sheriff Lance Gentry coming down the street. Her heart began to beat faster as he paused to speak to the Cramers. Lance was her friend Nelda’s brother and though he was nine years older, unbeknownst to anyone, Grace had always had a loving feeling for him. She knew nothing would ever come of it, because when they were together, which was seldom, he treated her as he always had. As a second little sister. But that didn’t keep her from dreaming about the tall, handsome sheriff.
The stage stopped and the driver jumped down and opened the door. A lovely young woman stepped down, and Mr. and Mrs. Cramer ran toward her. Grace knew it was Juliette. Anxious to greet her, Grace hurried down the street and reached them as Lance was helping Mrs. Cramer into the buggy. Mr. Cramer was busy gathering the several trunks and satchels the stage driver took down.
“Welcome home, Juliette,” Grace said as she reached them.
Juliette turned, looked at her, lifted her nose a little higher and nodded. Without speaking, she took the hand Lance offered after getting Mrs. Cramer settled. “Thank you, dear Lance. It was delightful of you to welcome me home.” Her voice was like velvet.
Taken aback, Grace couldn’t move for a few seconds, then she turned back to the sidewalk and hurried toward Brown’s Mercantile. She wasn’t out of earshot when she heard Juliette say, “I see she still has that awful limp. I’d never get out in public if I walked like that. It seems to be worse than when she was a child.”
Grace was far enough away so she didn’t hear if Lance or the Cramers answered Juliette, and she didn’t want to hear. She bit her lip and walked faster.
Reaching Brown’s store, Grace opened the door when a cowboy raced his horse up the street shooting at windows and at benches and g
oods piled on the plank sidewalk in front of different businesses. A large window shattered in the mercantile. Wilma came running out of the store and saw Grace. “What’s going on?”
“All I know is that cowboy came racing down the street shooting his gun.”
“Let’s get behind these barrels and watch what happens.”
They did as Wilma suggested and watched the event play out in front of the mercantile.
Lance left the Cramers’ buggy and ran into the middle of the street, causing the man’s horse to rear up on his hind legs.
The man gained control of the animal and glared at Lance. “If you don’t want to get hurt, you better get out of the way, you dumb sheriff.”
Lance ignored the young stranger’s words and yelled, “Put that gun away!”
As an answer, the wrangler whirled his horse around and shot off another round. A woman coming down the walk with a bundle in her arms screamed as the bullet whizzed by her head and went into the wall of the confectionery shop. Grace recognized the mayor’s wife, Luella Baldwin as she fell to her knees then tried to scramble to her feet. A nearby cowboy helped her up and into the safety of the sweets shop.
Without giving another warning, Lance’s gun cleared leather and a bullet sent the young man’s gun tumbling to the ground.
“Damn you.” The cowboy bellowed and settled his rearing horse. “Why the hell did you shoot at me? I’m only having a little fun.”
“Look, kid, you’re having too much fun.” Lance leveled the gun at his face. “Now climb down off your horse. You’re under arrest for disturbing the peace.”
“The hell I am.” The man started to pull his horse around, but Lance grabbed the reins.
“Either get off your horse or I’ll take you off.”
“You think you’re man enough to do it?”
“This gun and this badge say I am. Now, climb down.” Lance cocked the pistol.
The randy young man did get down, but he was still belligerent. “My pa ain’t gonna let a tin sheriff of a backwoods town like this arrest me. He’ll come after you.”
“Send him on.”
A crowd gathered. Lance turned as Deputy Bryce Langston came running up. “Will you take this guy’s horse to the livery, deputy? He’s not going to need it for a while.”
“I sure will.” Bryce said.
“You’re not taking my horse anywhere.” The young man, who was almost Lance’s height glared at the sheriff.
Lance ignored him, leaned over and picked up the man’s gun. Sticking it in his belt, he took hold of the fellow’s arm. “Let’s get you to the jail where you can sober up and cool off.”
Again the man cursed, but Lance continued to ignore him. He turned to the people on the sidewalk. “It’s all over now, folks. Go on about your business.”
The people began to walk away and Lance added, “For those of you who have damages to your businesses, I’ll see to it he pays for any of the windows he broke. If there were any other damages, let me know and he’ll pay for them, too.”
Grace glanced at Wilma. “I’m glad nobody got hurt during that.”
“So am I, but the Browns are going to be furious about the window he broke in the store.” She smiled.
“I’m sure they will.” Grace looked around. “I’m surprised Stanley or somebody didn’t come out to check when it broke.”
“Stanley and his father have gone to the house to do something for Mrs. Brown. I’m the only one working now.” Wilma Lawson lifted an eyebrow and glared at her friend. “What are you doing out on a Saturday afternoon? I thought you always rested up for the Saturday night crowd.”
“Effie needed some sugar and I wanted to talk to you about going to see Amelia.”
“Well, come on in.”
Grace followed her into the store.
* * * *
Later Grace entered the hotel kitchen by way of the back door, put the bag of sugar on the table and said, “While I was out I watched Lance arrest another man. I guess there are three prisoners to feed now.”
Effie chuckled. “That won’t be no problem. You know I always have plenty of food.”
“I sure do.” Grace took off her bonnet. “Is Henrietta back?”
“Yep, but Sophie’s still awful sick. I told her you wouldn’t mind taking the food to the jail tonight. I hope that was all right.”
“It was fine, Effie. I don’t mind at all, but since we have nobody in the dining room wanting to be served, I think I’ll go rest for a little while. If you need me, call.”
“I will, Grace. I don’t want you to worry about customers. If anybody comes in, I’ll get them fed.”
Grace smiled and headed to her room. She wasn’t sure if she was tired or still a little upset by the words she’d heard Juliette Cramer say. Every time she thought of them it stung. Why do people have to be so cruel? I might have a crippled foot, but I still have feelings. Why doesn’t someone like Juliette understand that?
* * * *
“I wonder what all that commotion was about,” Nelson Parnell said as he sat at a table in the saloon and studied his cards.
“Probably some cowboy showing off. The young ones do that whenever they have a few drinks under their belt.” The man across the table held his cards a little closer to his chest. “I’ll take two cards.”
The dealer gave him two cards.
“Might have been your boy,” the man to Nelson’s right said. “He had a little too much of ‘who hit John’ when he was in here.”
“Couldn’t be him. When I saw how drunk he was getting, I sent him home.”
“Reckon he listened to you and went?” the fourth man asked, giving Nelson a crooked smile.
“He’d better listen to me if he knows what’s good for him.”
“Maybe he did, but he shore was feelin’ his oats. Hope he didn’t do nothin’ foolish,” the man to the right said.
Nelson eyed the men around him. “Are you fellows going to play cards, or would you like to throw in your hands and go see why some cowboy is shooting up the street?”
Ned Foster, the bartender, couldn’t help overhearing the conversation as he wiped the top of the long smooth bar. He heard the fat man introduce himself to the miners as Nelson Parnell, but he wondered why the man decided to play cards with these men. He looked like a professional gambler, not someone who would settle for a low-stakes poker game. Not only that, but why was the lanky cowboy who came in with him sitting at a table by himself nursing a beer, and why did Parnell send his son home? A lot of young men got drunk in The Wildcat Saloon.
Sure, the guy had too much to drink, but it looked to me like he was trying to impress his father with his poker skills and when that didn’t work he started drinking. But who am I to question him? The old man seems to like to play cards with these men, and he keeps buying them beers. Maybe that’s why he always wins whatever money they have on them.
Ned went back to polishing his bar and continued to ready things for a Saturday night. As he worked, he forgot about Nelson Parnell and his son and the cowboy in the corner who still nursed the same beer.
* * * *
It was close to seven o’clock when Grace entered the jail with a basket of food for the prisoners. Teddy, the Olsens’ ten-year-old son followed with another basket containing bread, plates, cups and utensils.
“Sorry this is a little late tonight. I had to wait until the crowd slowed down in the dining room to bring it.” Grace glanced away so she wouldn’t meet the sheriff’s eyes. Though she’d known Lance Gentry most of her life, her feelings for him made her nervous around him.
“That’s no problem.” Sheriff Lance stood to take the heavy basket from her. “Just put your basket on my desk, Teddy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m surprised to see you delivering the food. Where’s Henrietta or Sophie?” Lance asked.
“Sophie is sick and Henrietta wanted to stay at the hotel in case her daughter needed her. I volunteered to bring the food.”
“Ma told me to come right back as soon as I got this stuff here.” Teddy didn’t look happy with his chore of delivering food. He looked even more disgusted when he added, “She’s probably gonna make me sit with Sophie when I get back.”
“What’s wrong with Sophie?”
“You tell him, Grace. I gotta go.” Teddy didn’t wait for a reply as he scooted out the door and let it slam behind him.
Grace cleared her throat because she was nervous and didn’t want Lance to see how it affected her to be alone in his office with him. “Doctor Wagner says it looks like she has a really bad cold and a sore throat. He said he hoped it didn’t develop into anything else.”
“I hope the cold is all it is. We don’t need something that would start an epidemic in town. People get crazy when there’s a disease going around.”
“What made you say that?”
“I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but there’s a town north of here that was almost wiped out by a contagious disease. I guess I was thinking of that.”
“I’m sure Sophie only has a terrible cold.”
“Me, too.” He took the cell keys from a peg near the door leading to the backroom where the two cells were located. He then picked up the two baskets. “I have three prisoners to feed and it’ll go faster with two serving. Do you mind helping?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Thanks. You can bring the coffee off the stove.”
She followed him into the cell area. As soon as they entered, a whistle came from the cell containing Kemp Newton and the cowboy Lance had arrested for shooting up the town.
The young cowboy whistled again then said, “Man if I’d known you had help that looked like this pretty lady, I wouldn’t have put up such a fuss about being arrested.”
“She’s the sheriff’s friend. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut around her.” Kemp Newton’s voice was slurred.
The cowboy laughed. “I don’t give a damn whose friend she is, I’m sure I can convince her I’d be a much better friend to her than this grumpy ole sheriff.”
Lance put the baskets down on the small table in the corner of the room away from the cells. “Cut out the talk and back up against that far wall if you want any supper.” Lance’s voice showed he meant what he said.
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