Probably a mouse or a snake.
Chapter Nineteen
That same morning, Jacob paced back and forth in his rented room. At the foot of the bed was a handsome trunk with shiny brass buckles. In the wardrobe was an assortment of fine clothes. All his life, Jacob had always had whatever fine things he desired, his father’s practice providing them with a very comfortable living.
He clenched a letter in his hand.
“Dear Jacob,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I have been making progress here in Tucson on our enterprise, however, things have been moving quite a bit slower than we anticipated. The deals have not solidified the way we hoped they would.
As you’ve requested, I have not informed your father of the delays, but I anticipate your return, as I believe having you present will open more doors for us than myself alone.
I wish you safe travels back, for you and your new bride, and look forward to your impending wedding.
Yours Sincerely,
William Henry”
He grabbed his hat and strode downstairs and out onto the street. He headed straight for the post office. Once inside, he rapped impatiently on the wooden frame of the service counter.
From around the corner, the frail old postman emerged.
“Sorry sir, didn’t hear you come in. How can I be of service today?”
“I need to send a telegram, urgently,” Jacob said
The old man slowly turned around and retrieved a small slip of paper and a pencil, and handed them to Jacob. Jacob hurriedly wrote the message down on the paper and handed it back.
Father Stop Need additional funds for my stay in Utah Stop Please send what you can Stop
The postman slowly counted the words on the paper and looked up at Jacob.
“That’ll be five cents, sir, and I’ll send it right away,” he smiled at Jacob.
“Sure, fine, here you are,” Jacob said, as he handed the nickel over.
As Jacob headed out the door, he could hear the electric beep beep beep of the telegraph tapping away.
I cannot wait to hear the lecture.
He headed straight for the saloon. As the doors swung open, the familiar smell of smoke and whiskey hit him, and he smiled. He strode up to the bar where Charles greeted him with a brisk “What’ll it be?”
“Whiskey,” Jacob replied shortly. As soon as the glass landed in front of him, he downed it in one swig and tapped the bar for another. Charles dutifully obliged. As Jacob tossed the second one back, Belle appeared next to him at the bar.
“The usual for me, Charles,” she smiled at him and then looked over at Jacob. “I don’t believe in anyone drinking alone, darling,” she said to him, with a cheeky gleam in her eye.
Jacob smiled back. “Well, thank you, ma’am,” he said, as he finished his drink.
“If I remember correctly you got into a bit of a spat with Abe Mavor last time you were in here. You boys work it all out?” she asked, as she sipped her drink.
“That madman won’t be coming near me or my bride again. He knew he got in way over his head, messing with a man of stature such as myself,” Jacob said, his chest puffed out.
“Yes, I’ve noticed your fine clothes, you stand out quite a bit around these parts sir,” Belle said as she looked him up and down.
“As one should, as soon as our carriage is finished, me and my bride will be on our way to a more civilized life in Tucson,” Jacob said, as he tapped the bar for another.
“Lucky girl,” Belle said flatly.
Jacob eyed Belle up and down as she drank.
“Yes, quite lucky. But she’s also not here right now,” he said with a smile, as he reached out to touch her hand.
Belle looked at him with the forced, charming smile of a working girl.
“I don’t start work until later this evening sir, you come by then and you can tell me more about how lucky ladies are to have you,” she said, as she sashayed away from the bar.
Stunned at the rejection, Jacob pounded down the whiskey and then turned to survey the room. At one table were the local men playing cards. He sauntered over to them and sat down at an empty chair.
“Care if I join boys?” Jacob asked, his words slightly slurred.
One cowboy clapped him on the back roughly and laughed.
“Always happy to take money from a gentleman such as yourself,” he said, with a toothy grin.
“Hey, I’m going to get you fellas this time,” Jacob stated, with drunken overconfidence.
The next hand, the cards were slowly dealt. A queen, a five and a six on the table.
Jacob carefully lifted his to check his hand.
A pair of sevens.
Rough start.
“I’ll raise ten,” Jacob said confidently.
“Oh ho! Coming out of the gate swinging today?” the old man across from him chuckled.
“What is a man but his confidence?” Jacob replied, with a sly smile.
“I don’t buy it. I’ll raise another five,” the cowboy next to him said gruffly.
“I’ll take that action,” the miner said, as he tossed his soot-covered coins into the pot from his blackened hands.
The next card turned. A jack.
“I’ll raise five,” Jacob said, as the coins hit the table.
The eyebrows all raised around the table.
“I got nothing,” the miner said, as he folded.
“Too rich for my hand,” one of the cowboys said, as he did the same.
“I don’t buy it, I’ll meet that,” the gruff cowboy next to him said, as his coins hit the table.
The next card turned. King.
“Alright boy, you ready to show ‘em?” the cowboy asked, with a challenging eyebrow raised.
Jacob took a deep breath as he flipped his cards. The table erupted in chatter.
“As I thought, whole lotta nothing,” the cowboy chuckled, as he pulled the pile of coins toward him.
“Just bad luck this time,” Jacob huffed.
A few hands later, Jacob’s purse was far lighter than when he came in and the men at the table were gleefully watching his money disappear into their pockets.
“I’ll give you something, you’re a persistent lad,” the miner grinned at him.
“What’s that saying from scripture? A fool and his money are soon parted?” the cowboy guffawed.
Jacob couldn’t take it. He stood up from the table and glowered at the cowboy.
“You dare to call me a fool?” he shouted.
The cowboy slowly stood up, his hand on his pistol.
“Settle down boy, no reason to be stupid here,” he said, with quiet ferocity in his eyes.
Jacob’s eyes fell onto the pistol and he took a deep breath as he felt the beads of sweat collecting on the back of his neck.
“I just don’t take kindly to people insulting my intelligence over a silly game,” Jacob said defiantly, as he sank back into his chair.
The cowboy tipped his hat to the rest of the table. “I best be heading out boys, still plenty of work to be done before the sun goes down.” And with that he strode out the swinging doors, tossing a coin to Charlie at the bar on his way out.
The miner tapped Jacob on the back, leaving a sooty handprint. “It’s okay lad, we’re just happy not to be losing all our coins to a visitor like yourself. I lost half a day’s wages to this fella, just yesterday, who was passing through.”
“I’m happy to help you recoup your losses then, sir,” Jacob said sullenly. “At least for a man like me, these little game losses don’t mean a thing.”
The drinks and cards kept refilling into the early afternoon. Drunk and dazed, Jacob finally excused himself from the table with a stumbling goodbye.
“I’ll see you later, dear!” Belle called after him with a wink.
He stumbled out onto the street where the sunlight all but blinded him. He headed back over to the post office. When he entered the old postman was sitting by the telegraph.
“Mr. Fisher! Excellent timing, I’ve just received a telegram for you,” he said, handing the slip of paper over to Jacob. Jacob squinted to try to make out the words on the page.
Jacob STOP I will wire you a small amount to help with your expenses STOP I expect this to be the last time I receive this kind of request STOP Your mother and I agree it is time to make your own way STOP
Jacob furiously crumpled the paper up in his fist and flung it through the window, just missing the postman.
“I need to send another, different recipient,” Jacob slurred.
“Absolutely, sir,” the postman weakly replied, producing the paper and pencil again.
In barely legible penmanship, Jacob scrawled out the message.
William STOP Please advise on progress with the business STOP Need to accelerate STOP No more delays STOP
He handed the slip over with another nickel, then turned on his heel and strode out of the post office and back to the hotel.
Just before he stepped inside the hotel, he saw Laura entering the butcher shop.
I should say hello to my bride.
He began to walk over, but as he took one step, he stumbled and caught a whiff of his breath.
Damn, not like this.
He quickly retreated inside the hotel, dragging himself up the stairs. Once he was shut inside, he pulled his purse out of his pocket and carefully counted the coins inside.
A paltry sum.
He felt rage building inside him. He flung the coins across the room, one of them striking a mirror and sending a spiderweb of cracks across it. Still not satisfied, he threw open the wardrobe doors and pulled all the clothes out, scattering them around the room. For good measure, he kicked over the small table by the door.
Exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed.
Call me a fool, will they? What kind of disgusting, depressing lives do they lead? I am a man of stature, with comforts they will never know.
A knock came from the door.
“You alright in there, Mr. Fisher?” The thin voice of the desk clerk was muffled from the heavy door.
“Yes, fine, just tripped over the table. You can add the damages to my bill. Please leave,” Jacob replied shortly.
“Yes, sir,” the desk clerk responded. He waited to hear the desk clerks’ feet plod away down the stairs.
Jacob laid there, the room spinning. This wasn’t the first of his businesses to struggle. This was the third, in fact.
I will not be a failure. I deserve more. I will have more.
He slowly slipped into a drunken sleep. When he awoke again, it was late evening. He eased himself up off the bed, grabbed his hat and headed back to the saloon.
I should go see Laura. But what’s one night off, eh?
He walked into the saloon, which was far more bustling than before. He spotted Belle at the bar and went straight for her.
“Well hello there, sir. Back again?” she asked, with a smile that was rimmed in fresh ruby lipstick.
Jacob reached out and kissed her hand.
“Only for a lady as fine as yourself,” he said with a smile.
He pressed a coin into her hand and she led him up to the second floor.
Chapter Twenty
As Laura walked into town, the chill of the January air cut through her gloves and coat, but she didn’t mind. It was nice to get out of Aunt Ethel’s house for a bit. What had once been a freeing oasis of escape for her, was now a smothering prison filled with jailers. Her mother’s touch on her shoulder felt like handcuffs, a reminder that she was no longer in control of what would happen to her.
I don’t think I can do this. I should have listened to Abe. I should have just…gone. But that chance has disappeared forever now. No turning back.
As she walked, her mind drifted back to Duchess. To her morning rides where she felt nothing but freedom. How the Arizona desert flew under her hooves. She then thought of how Tucson felt. It was home. She knew every street, every house, every turn. The women who chattered on, were her family. Her father’s store a cornerstone of her life. But when she returned, she wouldn’t be going to her father’s house.
She would be going to a home that Jacob owned. She would live a life parallel to the one she had known, like two streams in the same canyon. The thought made her heart ache.
Tucson will not be the same when I return. It will never be the same.
She then thought of Abe in the hayloft, his stormy grey eyes passing through her mind as clearly as if he was sitting next to her. She felt how strong his hands were when they held hers.
Stop it Laura, you are only torturing yourself.
Aunt Ethel’s words still haunted her.
Trust yourself. But what am I supposed to trust when what is expected of me is so different? What good is following my heart if it could destroy my family? It’s all so much more complex than I ever thought it could be.
Her heart ached, demanding to be felt. It was all unfair. So much was on her shoulders and no one else could carry it for her. Not even Abe, as much as he might try.
She arrived at the general store and walked inside.
As always, Mr. Mason greeted her with a shining grin.
“Miss Laura! I was hoping you’d come in today. I got a shipment of fresh potpourri all the way from Paris! I made a satchel up just for you, my dear.” He handed the small silk pouch over to Laura, with giddy enthusiasm.
“Oh, Mr. Mason, this is too much!” Laura exclaimed with delight. The pouch swirled, with an explosion of delicate floral scents dancing with rich, warm spices. Laura felt herself being transported to an exotic garden, far away from Utah.
“Nothing is too much for my favorite customer! Now, what actually brought you in today, ma’am?” he asked.
“A pound of coffee and two pounds of flour please,” she said, as she counted out her coins.
Mr. Mason measured everything out and tied it up into neat bundles for Laura.
“Will you still be here for the big jubilee at the end of the month ma’am?” he asked.
“I certainly hope so, though things haven’t been going exactly to plan lately, if I’m being fully honest,” Laura replied.
“Ah, well, I hope you will. Should be quite a thing to see. I know for a fact Mr. Mavor will be showing us those fancy roping skills of his,” he said to her, with a wink.
Laura froze.
Are people…talking about us? They can’t be right?
Her mind drifted back to the knitting club, all the chatter that she used to be privy to. It had never really crossed her mind that in other circles, the chatter might be about…her.
Mr. Mason must have noticed her shock, because he quickly blushed and began to apologize.
“I meant nothing improper by that ma’am, only that I know you two became good friends since you got here, that’s all,” he stammered.
“No offense taken at all, Mr. Mason,” Laura said with a smile, as she snapped out of her thoughts. “I was just reminded of something I forgot to deliver to Mr. Mavor, that’s all.”
“Ah, well you have a good day, ma’am,” Mr. Mason said, as Laura turned and headed out the door.
I should go see him. Tell him I was wrong. There may still be a way…
She shook her head at herself.
No, Laura, stay the course.
She headed down the street toward the butcher shop, when someone in the street caught her eye. The stumbling figure of Jacob was a distance off, heading toward the hotel.
Oh no, please don’t let him see me.
She quickened her pace to the butcher’s, keeping her face turned away and down.
As she entered the butcher shop, she nearly ran straight into a large man standing in the doorway.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sir,” she hastily apologized.
“No apologies necessary missy, allow me,” he said, as he held the door open and gestured her inside. He reeked of cigar smoke, she noticed, as she stepped past him. She reached into her pock
et, pulled out the satchel of potpourri, and held it to her nose. The delightful fragrance immediately erased the stale stench.
The Salvation 0f A Runaway Bride (Historical Western Romance) Page 14
