Tame the Wild Wind

by Rosanne Bittner

  Faith felt sick to her stomach. What could she do if they came for her? She couldn’t shoot it out with two little boys in the house. Things were different now from when she’d been alone there guarding the depot. How strange that she’d felt safer then, knowing outlaws and Indians were always lurking about—safer than she felt now in the middle of a settled town with a sheriff to keep the law. How convenient that Tod Harding hadn’t even been there when all this took place. He was very clever at disappearing when trouble descended on the town. “Let’s just go back to the house for now,” she told Bret. “We have to get out of this cold wind and get some rest.”

  “I can’t leave Ben out here in the cold.”

  “We have no choice, Bret. And you have to keep the saloon open, in Ben’s memory. Don’t give up.” She was so close to giving up herself. She felt guilty for having invited all these fine people to Sommers Station only to bring them so much trouble and heartache. How many more would leave now because of this?

  She managed to get Bret back to the house and inside, making her sit down in a rocker beside the heating stove in the parlor. She stoked it a little more, then turned when Maude came in to hand her an envelope. “That Dennison boy bring zis from za postal office,” she told Faith. “You know how he likes to bring all people zer mail.”

  Faith took the envelope. “Thank you, Maude. Could you fix Bret some hot tea?”

  Maude nodded, thinking how she had disapproved of Bret Flowers when she’d first come to town, but now she felt very sorry for her.

  Faith looked at the envelope, noticing that the return address was from Fort Gibson in Indian Territory. “Who in the world would be writing to me from Indian Territory?” she muttered. She sat down across from Bret near the stove, still wearing her woolen cloak. She removed her gloves and carefully opened the envelope, which was slightly battered, looking as though it had been through many hands and maybe even a little mud in getting there. She unfolded the yellowed paper and began reading, and suddenly all despair left her. She barely got past the first paragraph before letting out a gasp and coming out of her chair to sink to her knees. “Dear God,” she whimpered.

  “Faith?” Bret removed her own hood, then her black hat and veil, concern for Faith momentarily overcoming her own sorrow. “Faith, what’s wrong? Is it your father?”

  Faith looked up at her, and to Bret’s surprise the woman was smiling through her tears, her blue eyes showing only great joy. “It’s Gabe!” she whispered, glancing toward the door before looking back at Bret again. “He’s alive!”

  Chapter Thirty

  Bret got up and walked to the parlor doors. “Would you wait on that tea and leave us alone for a moment, Maude?” she called to the woman. “And keep an eye on the boys.” She reached out and swung the parlor doors together. She hurried back to Faith, who still sat on the floor, holding the letter in her shaking hand.

  “Are you serious? Gabe is alive?” She spoke the words softly, not sure anyone else should know yet.

  Faith looked up at her, handing her the letter. “I only got past the first…couple of sentences,” she answered with a shiver. “I…I can’t finish it, Bret. I’m too shocked…too nervous.” Her whole body jerked in a sob, and Bret took the letter from her, all her own senses suddenly alive and kicking. She didn’t even know Gabe Beaumont, yet this news brought her great elation.

  “Get up, honey. We have to be careful about this. Let me read the letter to you, and we’ll decide what to do. If it’s true Harding and his henchmen tried to get rid of Gabe, maybe they don’t know he’s alive. Don’t be telling anyone yet. Maybe the letter is some kind of trick.”

  “Oh, Bret, it can’t be! This has to be real!”

  Bret helped Faith back into her chair, then pulled her own chair closer, leaning forward so Faith could hear her read the letter softly.

  “It’s dated November sixteen, 1872. That’s four months ago! It must have gotten lost for a while.” She studied the letter a moment before starting to read. “Dearest Faith. This letter might be a shock to you. I have no idea what you have been told about me, but let me start by saying I am alive, and I want to come home.” Bret blinked back her own tears of joy for Faith. She took a deep breath and swallowed before continuing. “The son of a Cherokee family for whom I am working in Indian Territory is writing this letter for me. I asked a dispatcher at Fort Gibson to send it on its way, with a prayer that it will reach you. I could have wired you, but I was not sure it was safe. It might be possible that the wrong men would hear about the telegram. A letter is more personal. Faith, please believe me that you should not trust Tod Harding or that sheriff from Cheyenne, Joe Keller. They are the reason I have been missing all this time. It is too long a story to put into a letter, but you must believe me when I tell you I did not leave by choice. I have been in—”

  Bret hesitated, horrified at what had happened to the man. “In prison all this time, but now I am free.”

  “Dear God,” Faith moaned. “Prison! They must have somehow made up some charges against him. How could anyone do such a thing!”

  “Hush,” Bret told her. “Keep this to yourself.” She patted Faith’s arm and continued. “I will explain everything when I see you again, but first I need to know if you want me to come. Perhaps you thought I was dead or had abandoned you. Perhaps you have already married someone else. I would not want to spoil whatever happiness you have found, but I pray you have waited. I thought about you every night of the four years I was in prison, and I tried to be with you in spirit. I hope that you have never given up on me, as I would never give up on you. I was not well when I was released, and it will take time for me to gain weight and get my strength back. I wanted to be strong again before I came home. I will winter here and return in the spring, as I don’t feel strong enough right now to travel so far in winter snows.

  “Faith, I have never stopped loving you. Please reply in care of Fort Gibson, Indian Territory, and tell me if you want me to come home.”

  “How could he think I wouldn’t want him to come!” Faith sobbed.

  “Honey, he has no idea what you were told, what you thought. He didn’t want to just show up on your doorstep and shock you to death. For all he knew, you’d greet him with a rifle out of pure anger. Besides that, he apparently suspects Tod Harding has moved in on this town, and he’s right. Harding and Keller apparently sent him off illegally. He can’t just come prancing into town in full view of Keller and his thugs. He’s using his good sense, Faith, and we’ve got to decide what to do, what to tell him.”

  “What to tell him? I’ll tell him to come home! Oh, Bret, he’s alive! And I know if he were here, Keller wouldn’t get away with half the things he’s done! Gabe would stop him! Gabe would—”

  “Faith, stop and think!” Bret set the letter aside and grasped her wrists. “I just told you he can’t come riding into town in full sight, not with Keller and his men still here. We have to warn him. We have to decide the best way to handle this.”

  Faith nodded, wiping hastily at her eyes. “Oh, Bret, I can’t think straight, not when I know this wonderful news! Gabe! My Gabe is alive, just as I always believed! God has answered my prayers. This could be the answer to so many things. And Gabe doesn’t even know he has a son of his own. He has to be told! And—oh, Bret, maybe he thinks I don’t want him to come. The letter took so long getting here. My God, four months! It’s 1873. He’s been gone close to five years! What if he isn’t even at Fort Gibson anymore? Maybe he gave up on me.”

  She started to rise, but Bret kept hold of her arms. “Faith, he will be waiting. He knows winter weather might have held things up, and he told you he would be there till spring. If he never gave up on you after four years in prison, why would he give up on you now that he’s free? He has to be told everything that’s going on here now. The question is how to tell him and keep it secret; what to tell him, and how to get you and him back together. The other problem is time. Who knows how long it would take for your reply to r
each him? You need to send him a wire, but you can’t do it from here. We can’t trust the telegrapher. He might tell Tod Harding about the message.”

  “Then I’ll go to him myself!”

  “No!”

  Bret was up and pacing now, rubbing at her lips thoughtfully. Faith watched her in surprise. A moment ago she had been a broken woman. Now she had something to think about, something to give her hope. The fact that Gabe was alive could give the whole town hope. He was living proof of the corruption of Tod Harding and Joe Keller! He could go to a U.S. marshal, the army, anyone in authority and tell them his story. He had prison records to prove it. The trouble was, Tod Harding had power, and friends in high places. How did they know who could be believed?

  One thing was sure. She’d been right all along about Tod Harding having something to do with Gabe’s disappearance. Gabe was alive! She had to see him, had to go to him! “Why not, Bret? It’s the only way.”

  Both women spoke in excited whispers, both still wiping at tears that were a mixture of joy over Gabe and sorrow over Ben.

  “Don’t you see?” Bret answered, coming closer to keep her voice low. “Everybody knows you would be the last one to leave Sommers Station. If you pack up and go now, they’ll wonder, and Joe Keller and his bunch will suspect something, maybe even follow you. I have to go!”

  “You!”

  “Yes!” Bret’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Keller and Harding will think they’ve defeated me. Harding will probably take over the saloon, but I don’t care. I’ll leave town a broken, defeated woman, or at least that’s what they’ll think. If I have to come back later with a message, I’ll just say I decided all my friends were right here in Sommers Station and I wanted to come back.” Her smile faded. “Faith, I have to do this. I can leave town with no one suspecting a thing. I need to do this, you see? It will help keep me from thinking about poor Ben, what I’ve lost. It will give me a purpose for the next few weeks. I’ll go to Denver and send a wire from there, tell Gabe to get on a train and meet me in Denver at a designated place. I’ll explain the situation so he’ll be aware before he gets here. Then he can decide what to do about it. Then I’ll come back to Sommers Station, supposedly to visit you. I’ll let you know then what Gabe is going to do.”

  Their eyes held in mutual understanding, two women from such different worlds, yet each understanding the other’s sorrow and joy.

  “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing for me, Bret.”

  A cold hardness came into Bret’s eyes. “Honey, you’re just about the best woman friend I ever had, but I’m not doing this just for you. I’m doing it for Ben, and for Sommers Station. If Gabe Beaumont can find a way to show Keller and Harding for what they are and can get Keller out of this town, I’ll feel like I’ve had a little part in doing something to avenge what happened to Ben.”

  Faith embraced her, and the two of them clung to each other. “I’m so sorry about Ben,” Faith told her. “But it’s like I said, Bret. You have a lot of friends in this town. You can always stay here, keep your saloon, whatever you want to do.”

  “I know…and thanks.” Bret pulled away. “I’d better go pack. I’ve got some traveling to do. Say, you don’t have any pictures of Gabe, do you?”

  “No.” Faith closed her eyes and smiled, clutching the letter in one hand. “But you don’t need a picture. You’ll know him when you see him—tall, dark, black hair, and the most exotic green eyes. He’s the kind of man who makes women look twice, and—” She hesitated, studying Bret closely and smiling. “You just remember he was in prison for four years.”

  Bret smiled through tears. “And hasn’t been with a woman in all that time, and probably not since. My, my.” She gave Faith a wink. “This could be an interesting trip.” She sashayed to the parlor door and turned. “Don’t you worry. You know I’d never dream of bedding my best friend’s husband—but even more, I suspect your Gabe isn’t the kind of man who’d settle for anyone but the woman he loves, Faith Beaumont. I’ll probably have a hell of a time keeping him from charging up here to see you like a bull after a cow in heat.”

  “Bret!” Faith reddened. “Such talk!” She felt a rush of desire sweep through her at the thought of being held by Gabe again, touched by him, being a woman to him again. She prayed the letter was not just some kind of ruse. “Tell him I love him, Bret.”

  “You really think I need to?”

  Faith smiled sadly. “He’ll know. But tell him anyway. And tell him it did work, his thinking of me in the night. Tell him I felt him with me many times, and I never gave up believing he was alive and coming back to me.”

  Bret nodded. “I’ll tell him.” She rested her hand on the doorknob. “You know something? I’m feeling much better. I think I’ll skip that tea and go back to the saloon and order a round of drinks for everyone, in Ben’s memory. You just remember not to go around town looking too happy.” She picked up her hat and plopped it on her head, pulling down the veil. She threw on her hooded cloak and pulled the hood up over her hat. “I’ll do the same. We don’t want anyone to suspect. And hide that letter someplace safe.”

  “I will. Thank you, Bret.”

  The woman smiled sadly. “Sure.”

  She turned and left, and Faith looked down at the letter, reading it again. “Oh, Gabe,” she whispered. This was no ruse. No one but Gabe would know just the right thing to say. No one but Gabe would have known to tell her he’d be with her in spirit. She folded the letter and shoved it into the front of her dress, inside her camisole, next to her heart.

  Gabe disembarked from the train, amazed at what a big city Denver was. With the pace at which the West was apparently growing, he surmised St. Louis must be many times bigger now than when he’d been there as a boy, and Cheyenne had probably also grown far beyond what he remembered, now that the railroad was completed.

  Passengers and their greeters thronged the depot of the Denver & Rio Grande, and Gabe stood a little taller than most of them. He scanned the crowd for the woman called Bret Flowers. She’d said she had blond hair and would be wearing a green velvet cloak. His gaze locked on to a woman who fit that description. It was a cold, but calm day, and she had left the hood of her cape down so her hair would show.

  Gabe walked closer, carrying a carpetbag. He thought she had a look about her that spoke of what one might call an “experienced” woman. How could such a woman be Faith’s best friend? She turned and noticed him as he approached, and her eyes roved his body appreciatively. It was obvious she was buxom, even though most of her was covered by the velvet cape. Her face showed a little too much powder and rouge, and although it was obvious she was once very pretty, she was now showing some age and had the hard look about her of a woman who’d been around too much whiskey and smoke. He would have much preferred Faith standing there waiting for him, but he understood from this woman’s telegrams that it was not safe for him to go directly to Sommers Station. He needed little explanation after learning that Joe Keller was sheriff there. He suspected he already understood the whole picture, and he worried what kind of hell poor Faith had been through.

  “You are Miss Flowers?”

  Bret could not help being stirred sexually by the sight of Gabe Beaumont. This one was all man, that was sure. There were hints of what he’d been through, still looking a little gaunt in the face, his eyes hinting of the horror he’d suffered. She nodded in reply to his question, drinking in his handsome masculinity. Every feature of his face was perfect—full lips, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes surrounded by dark lashes. Faith was right about those eyes being exotic. Their sea-green color was only accented by his dark skin. He wore a wide-brimmed felt hat, and his black hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck.

  “I sure am,” she replied in answer to his question. “And there is no doubt in my mind who you are. I figured Faith had to be exaggerating about how handsome you are, but now I see her glowing praises were an understatement.”

  Gabe grinned. “I suppose I sho
uld thank you.” He looked toward the baggage and cattle cars. “I have to get my gear and horses. The horses are a gift from a Cherokee friend I worked for. I intended to stay a little longer, since I am not full strength yet. But after hearing that Joe Keller is in Sommers Station, I knew I had to come right away. Wait here and I will get my things.”

  “Sure. I’ll be in that buggy over there. We’ll go to my room at the Brown Palace. I’ve rented an extra room for you—my treat. I’m glad to be able to do this for Faith.”

  Immediately his eyes showed a new softness. “How is she?” he asked. “She has not been harmed, has she?”

  Bret smiled, glad to see the love in his eyes. “She’s fine—physically. We’ll talk about it when we get to the hotel. You go get your gear so we can get over there and out of this cold.”

  He nodded and she watched him walk away, wondering what he meant by “full strength.” What she saw certainly looked strong enough. It was obvious that under the heavy winter canvas duster he wore was a man with a mighty fine build. She noticed he limped a little. Faith had never mentioned a limp. His hair was very long, hanging in a tail outside the back of his duster. She walked to the buggy she’d rented, climbing into the seat and asking the driver to wait. Several minutes later Gabe rode up beside the buggy on a sturdy black gelding. He led a packhorse behind him. Bret ordered the driver to take her back to her hotel, and Gabe followed. A young boy who worked for the Brown Palace greeted them when they arrived, and Gabe paid him to watch his horses and gear. He looked up at the five-story brick structure, still surprised by the size of Denver and its buildings.

  “This looks pretty fancy,” he told Bret, taking her hand and helping her down.

  “It’s the best hotel in town. I figured after what you’ve been through, you deserve to live in a little luxury for a couple of days. Don’t worry about the cost. I took all my money out of Tod Harding’s bank in Sommers Station before I left. I wanted him to think I was leaving town for good now that he’s taken over my saloon.”