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April 6, 1874
"Cat?" A soft voice called my name, bringing me to full wakefulness. "Beth!" I gasped, getting quickly to my feet and wrapping my youngest sister tightly in my arms. "Beth--I'm so sorry! I should have been there to meet your train." "I don't think that it would be all that easy for me to get lost in a town this size." She giggled. "Besides, a Mr. Cooper rescued me. When he spotted me looking around in bewilderment he explained that you were probably here--that a friend of yours had been injured in a fall from a horse." "I had completely forgotten that you would be arriving this morning," I admitted ruefully. "Zach's accident has had me so worried about him that I haven't been able to focus on anything else. Forgive me?" "For anything," she agreed, giving me a look of concern. "Are you all right?" "I'm just tired. I haven't slept well lately." "You look an absolute mess." Beth smiled, pushing my unruly mop of curls away from my face. "Nothing at all like the stuffy, straight-laced, western schoolmarm that I had expected to find." "That seems fitting somehow." "Pardon?" She looked confused. "Never mind." I shook my head slightly. "How are things at home?" "Much too quiet without you," she complained. "Mother and Daddy gave me explicit instructions to make certain that you return to Riverview for the summer months, and Mairead and Anna hope that their news might give you a bit of an extra incentive: they're both--enceinte." "Mairead and Josh are finally expecting a child?" I beamed at her in delight. "And Anna and Blake are going to have still another one?" "Number six." Beth rolled her eyes playfully. "But from the way that Maire is acting, you would think that no one has ever done this other than her." "I've missed all of you so much," I confessed. "We've missed you, too." She rested her forehead against mine. "Lately there have been days when I would like nothing better than to run away--to come back home and crawl into my bed with the covers pulled up over my head." "Your room is still there, waiting--exactly the way that you left it." "Right now I'm so confused that I don't know what I want to do--or where I want to go. My entire life is turned upside down." "Your Mr. Lawson is still in jail?" "He'll go to trial in two weeks." I nodded. "But my relationship with Hank is over. Things have changed since I wrote to you last." "I thought that..." "There are a thousand things that I need and want to talk to you about, but--knowing you--all that you had for breakfast was coffee, so you must be starving. Why don't I see if Michaela can stay with Zach for awhile, and we'll go to lunch at the Cafe?" "This friend of yours...is his condition likely to improve?" She gestured toward the quilt-covered figure on the bed. "It was nearly 12 hours before he regained consciousness--which seemed more like a month--but he finally woke up around three o'clock this morning." Zach had shifted position while I napped, and I stooped to rearrange the quilts. "He's still not out of danger, but the odds that he will recover completely are much better than they were yesterday." As I exposed more of Zach's face Beth drew in her breath sharply. "He's beautiful," she whispered, her gaze moving over the finely-carved cheekbones, thick lashes, and the blond locks spread out over the pillow. Stunned, I stared at her for a long moment. Beth's rape had left such deep emotional scars that never before had I known her to show the slightest interest in a man. "Yes. He is," I finally managed. The door opened, and Myra glanced uncertainly between Beth and me. "Folks were sayin' that your sister had gotten in on the mornin' train, so I thought I might come and sit with Zach for a spell--give you two a chance to get something to eat." "Your timing is perfect." I smiled. "I was just about to go downstairs and see if I could find someone to do exactly that. Myra Bing--Elizabeth McShane." "Beth." She removed her glove and held her hand out to Myra. "Pleased to meet you." Myra shook it warmly. "When you pick Samantha up from school today, would you be sure to thank Reverend Johnson for taking my classes again?" I requested. "I'll go by and thank him myself later." "Oh, he's happy as a pig in sunshine to be teachin'. It's hard on him, havin' so much time on his hands. And with Brian and Sarah helpin' out, he manages well enough." "The Reverend lost his sight a few years ago," I explained quietly, noticing Beth's puzzled look. "Go on and get something to eat before Grace runs out of meatloaf," Myra urged. "And stay as long as you want to. I've got the afternoon off, and I don't have to be nowhere until time for school to let out." "Caitlyn is not leaving this room until I do something with that wild mop of hair of hers," Beth said firmly, opening her handbag to extract a brush and hairpins. "All of my sisters are terribly bossy like that." I grinned at Myra as I sat obediently down in the rocker. Beth swiftly pinned my hair up on top of my head, grumbling under her breath about the fact that I needed a good shearing, then stepped back to eye me critically. "Your dress doesn't even fit." "I had to borrow an outfit from Michaela," I defended my untidy appearance. "I was soaking wet and covered in mud by the time we got Zach to the clinic, and I haven't been home yet to change." "Were you wearing a riding habit--or did half of the town see you in your trousers?" "BETH!" I protested. "So you still have a few secrets left, huh?" She chuckled as I gave her a little push to get her out of the room. "You are getting to be entirely too much like me," I accused as we made our way down the stairs. "Surely, I'm not that bad?" she asked with feigned innocence. The minute that we stepped out onto the sidewalk heads turned in our direction, and I chuckled as I realized that a large percentage of the male population of the town seemed to also be heading toward Grace's for a late lunch. Unaware of the amount of attention that she was attracting, Beth looked around curiously, wrinkling her nose in distaste as she lifted her skirt to avoid the deep mud puddles that the rain had left in the street. "Missing Savannah yet?" I teased. "Things are--quite different here," she diplomatically evaded giving me a direct answer. "I hope that you packed some long, winter underwear." "It does seem awfully chilly today." She pulled her cape closer around her. "Honey-girl, this is practically summer--according to everybody in town but you and me," I drawled, leading the way to an empty table. "Cait," Grace greeted me, then turned her smile on my companion. "And you must be that sister of hers that she could hardly wait on to get here?" "Grace Freeman--Beth McShane." "Matthew--are you back again?" Grace looked past us, her face reflecting amazement at the sudden onslaught of business. "Mr. Lodge? Jake? Can I get you all something else?" "Some of that excellent pie of yours would be absolutely perfect, Grace," Preston ordered, briskly striding over to our table. "Miss McShane? I'm Preston A. Lodge, the Third." "Beth, I believe that you've already met our local attorney, Matthew Cooper," I remarked drily as the other men followed in Preston's wake. "This is Mr. Lodge, the president of the bank, and Jake Slicker, our mayor." "I'm delighted to welcome you to Colorado Springs, Miss McShane." Preston dipped his head in greeting. "If there's anything that I can do to make your stay here more pleasant, please do not hesitate whatsoever to let me know." "Thank you very much." Beth smiled politely. "How's Zach?" Grace nudged the men aside with her elbow as she brought the coffeepot around to my side of the table. "Michaela seems to feel a great deal more confidant that there's no internal bleeding nor permanent brain injury. Thank God." I sighed. "When I took his papa's breakfast over this mornin' he looked like he'd been put through the wringer. Nothing brings you to your knees quicker than knowin' you may lose your child." She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Now, will you two be having ham, meatloaf, or turkey and dressing?" "Turkey seems appropriate to the occasion." My gaze drifted across the street to where Mr. Bing and Mark, Hank's bartender, both appeared to be headed in our direction. Catching my look of exasperation, Grace nodded slightly in sudden understanding. "Gentlemen, there's a real nice table right over here all ready and waiting." She skillfully steered our three visitors to a far corner, then intercepted the two newcomers and managed to seat them equally distant. "I swear, I had never dreamed that the people out here would be so friendly," Beth confessed. "If you didn't get an invitation to join the ladies of the evening and at least three proposals of marriage the minute you stepped down off of the train, most of the males in town must have decided to sleep in late this morning." I laughed. "Caitlyn!" "I'm only giving you the facts of the West as I know them." "I hardly think..." "The only blind man in town--that I know of--is Reverend Timothy." I waved away her protest, taking in the porcelain skin, huge blue-green eyes, hair the color of aged mahogany, and the tiny perfection of her figure. "You're gorgeous--and ladies, especially ones who are 20 years old and look the way that you do, are as scarce as hen's teeth. Every male within fifty miles who isn't already taken will be coming into town to get himself a look at you." "The idea of that makes me extremely uncomfortable." Her cheeks flushed as she avoided my gaze. "I felt the same way in the beginning." I reached across the table and put my hand over hers. "So I bought a pistol and spent time making sure that I could still hit whatever I was aiming for. But even living out on my own the way that I do, I've never once had to threaten to use it. The majority of these men are rougher around the edges than the ones that we're used to, but they have a great deal of respect for what they call a 'good' woman." "It has taken me a long time to stop being afraid of my own shadow," she responded flatly. "Simply coming this far on the train alone is more than I could have managed two years ago." "I know." I nodded. "I'm grateful." "If Mairead or Anna had been able to make the trip, I wouldn't be sitting here right now," she confessed wryly. "I'm still not all that brave. But I knew that one of us had to come--that you needed someone badly, or you would never have asked." "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're finally here." "I would have left right away if I could have...but I was told that I would lose credit for the entire term, if I didn't finish my classwork. That I wouldn't be able to receive my diploma and teaching certificate until the end of the next semester." "Are you all through now?" "You're looking at the Valedictorian of the class of 1874 at the Georgia Women's College." She gave me a saucy grin. "That's my Beth." I smiled. "Congratulations." "As good as my grades were, somehow I don't believe that I managed to leave behind quite the same lasting impression as you did," she teased. "For which the entire faculty is truly grateful. I'm still amazed that the school was willing to admit a second McShane sister." "And I'm amazed that they didn't expel you, if even half of the stories that I heard are true." "Why, I was always the very soul of propriety." I let my eyes open wide in mock astonishment. "Then you weren't responsible for a greased piglet that was found sitting in Miss Smith's chair--wearing her glasses and pearl necklace--when she came to class one morning?" "Of course not! Well...not entirely," I amended the lie. "That little porker was an extremely willing accomplice--after I promised him diplomatic immunity from becoming a sausage roll." "Houston!" She laughed, referring to what was now a massive hog that I had brought home in a carpetbag as a piglet, declaring him to be my pet and giving orders that he was never to be slaughtered--but was to spend his natural lifetime romancing porcine ladies. "I own the one and only boar hog in Georgia who's actually been to college," I bragged playfully. "Tell me about Hank Lawson." "Speaking of pigs... What would you like to know?" "We could start with why you've changed your mind about marrying him." She accepted her plate from Grace's assistant with a polite nod. "Thank you, Claire." I waited until my own meal was in front of me, and we were alone again. "Marriage is something that I decided wasn't for me a long time ago. And you know why as well as I do." "I also know that something about Mr. Lawson changed your mind," she objected quietly, laying her napkin across her lap. "That you had finally allowed yourself to fall in love. From the last few letters that you wrote, it sounded as if you were ready to throw caution to the wind, forget about a long engagement, and set a wedding date for as soon as possible after this trial is over." "Unfortunately, I discovered that love isn't enough." "What else is there?" "You're asking the wrong person. Try Mairead or Anna. They seem to be better at this than I am." "But you're the one with the answers that I need to hear." "Beth, it's just Hank," I said irritably. "He's completely wrong for me. It was all a mistake--beginning to end." "I'm having a hard time believing that." She met my gaze. "Every single word that you wrote practically leapt off the page with joy. There was no doubt in any of our minds that you had found the man you were meant to be with. Even though Daddy grumbled a bit at first about Mr. Lawson not coming to him to properly ask for his permission to marry you, even he recognized that you would marry this man, with or without his blessings-- that you were happier than you have been in years." "Hank and I are too different to have ever made it work." I toyed with the tender slice of roasted turkey on my plate, my appetite gone. "He's rude and angry at the world--muleheaded, overbearing, and totally impossible." "And despite all of that, you fell head over heels in love with him." A slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I had taken temporary leave of my sanity." "The only kind of man that you could ever love is one who can meet fire with fire, Cat." She giggled. "You would be bored out of your mind by a nice, placid husband who agreed with your every word. One who allowed you to lead him around by the nose like a prized bull." "Hank definitely doesn't bore me--what he does is make me FURIOUS!" "I read somewhere that the opposite of romantic love isn't hatred--it's indifference." Beth smiled knowingly. "Whatever the problem is, the very last thing that you are right now is indifferent to Mr. Lawson." "The fool is going to end up letting them hang him for no reason-- that's HALF of the problem," I fumed. "The other half of it is that this was never anything more than a game to Hank--a game where he tried to see if he could make the spinster schoolteacher care. And he won. I lost." "When those letters came, saying that you had fallen in love, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders," she confessed softly. "What happened that day took so much away from us both... I was delighted to know that Mr. Lawson had taught you to not be afraid. It made me believe that if there was someone out there who could open your heart again, then there was hope for me, too." "Because it didn't work out for me doesn't mean that it couldn't happen." "Cat--do you truly want to walk away from this? It's taken years for you to allow yourself to fall in love...to let a man get this close." "I didn't walk. He pushed me." Pride gave way to the need not to destroy her hope for the future. "Hank is the one who ended our engagement...who isn't in love with me. He's made that very clear." "Not long ago he loved you enough to ask you to be his wife. People don't fall in and out of love that easily." "That's what I told myself in the beginning." I moved my barely- touched plate aside. "There was a time when I believed that Hank wanted to somehow make it easier for me if this trial goes badly--to send me away. I wanted to believe it, so I did for a long time. But finally I had to accept the fact all I was doing was lying to myself. That he doesn't want me. That I'm going to end up my life as an old maid schoolteacher, after all." "Could it be that you're lying to yourself now instead?" "It doesn't even matter any more... The hurt is too deep to be mended." "Love beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things," she quoted the Bible. "It also says, 'Thou shalt not kill," I reminded her drily. "If the two of us had actually made it to the altar, sooner or later I would surely have had to 'basheth' Hank over the head with a large frying pan." "When you weren't around to hear, Daddy used to grin and say that you reminded him of one of his thoroughbred colts--that you were every bit as wild and high-strung--and he couldn't wait to meet the man who would bring you to the bit willingly." "If I was Daddy, I wouldn't be holding my breath."
When Beth and I returned to the clinic Michaela was attempting to comfort a sobbing child while sewing up a deep cut to his arm, so we hurried upstairs without stopping for conversation. Although I was eager for my best friend and my younger sister to get to know each other, with two more patients already waiting for medical attention it would obviously be quite some time before Mike was free to take a break. Walking over to Zach's bed, I sat down on the edge and felt his forehead, checking for fever. He stirred but didn't wake, and Myra sighed. "He's slept the whole time I been here." "He will be perfectly fine in a few days," I opined, my voice sounding more positive than I felt on the inside, as I took his hand into mine. "I'll be praying for him." She hugged me gently, then stepped to the door. "I gotta get Sam from school, but you call me if you need me." "Thank you, Myra. I will." I nodded. The door closed, and I bent to kiss his cheek. "I'm back now." "Cat--is he the real reason why you're not marrying Mr. Lawson?" "I love Zach." I frowned, looking up to see Beth watching me intently. "We've been sharing the same house since mid-March, and we've both been very happy with the way that it's working out." "You're living in sin with this man?" She paled noticeably. Suddenly realizing that Beth didn't know who Zach was, I burst out laughing. Red-faced and gasping for breath, I started to hiccough and reached for the glass and pitcher by the bed, gulping down water. "I completely fail to see what you're finding so hilariously funny," she fussed, glaring at me. "I can't believe that you would--that my own sister is...." Her righteous anger sent me into even greater peals of laughter, and I held my aching sides as I fought to get my giggles under control. "Beth, no." I shook my head helplessly, trying to choke back my mirth. "Zach is Zachary Lawson--Hank's son." "He's not your--your...beau?" "His pet name for me is 'Little Ma." I chuckled. "Does that sound like a red-hot romance to you?" "Mr. Lawson must be quite a bit older than you are--to have a grown son." Her gaze lingered on the man on the bed. "Only eight years. Hank was 18 when Zach was born--and he won't turn 37 until sometime in September." There was a momentary flicker of disappointment in her expression when she realized that Zach's age was two years younger than her own, and I studied her, wondering if the gentle-natured artist that I had come to know might well be the one who could help heal the emotional wounds that another male had inflicted. "Zach was living in Denver when Hank was arrested, and rather than him staying at the hotel, I offered him my spare bedroom," I explained quietly. "I don't think that either one of us understood how much we were going to need each other's support to get through this at the time that he moved in, but he's been a Godsend." "Where will he live now that you've decided not to marry his father?" "Zach is going to need my help--or someone's help--at least for awhile after he leaves the clinic. According to Michaela, there may or may not be things that he will need to learn to do all over again--and there will probably be episodes of dizziness and incapacitating headaches. If you wouldn't mind doubling up in my room until he's on his feet again, I would like to bring him back home with me." "I don't mind at all--but won't people talk?" "They're already talking--which is something that I probably should have warned you about before I even asked you to come," I confessed drily. "I seem to have become the main topic of gossip in Colorado Springs from the minute that I started seeing Hank." "I don't understand." "Hank Lawson is considered extremely unsuitable. The hotel that he owns is also a saloon--with women working in it." "Women without any other means of support have the need to earn a living as much as..." she paused, flushing as comprehension dawned. "These employees of his--they don't cook and clean and do the laundry?" "Not these particular women." "You're saying that they..." "Out here they call what they do 'entertainin'." "You were willing to marry a man who--uses--women like that?" Her expression was one of surprised disbelief. "I was willing to marry a man who I loved, heart and soul," I answered softly. "And he promised me that before that ring was placed on my left hand the whoring would stop at the Gold Nugget." "What makes you think that he would keep that promise once those vows were said?" "When Hank gives his word, it means something." I met her gaze. "Mother would absolutely die, if she ever found out about this." She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to face the thought of explaining about Hank's "girls" to our elegant and extremely refined mother. "Yet she wouldn't have said one word about me marrying Andrew Lovett, and between him and his father, there were at least a dozen mulatto children running around Pine Ridge," I retorted hotly. "The Lovetts are highly respected in Chatham County." "You're right--they are. But they're also men who bred children on Negro slaves who had no choice in whether or not to be 'used' in that manner by the Lovetts and their friends. And we were all so polite and genteel that we turned our heads and pretended not to see." "You can't possibly be defending Mr. Lawson in this?" she demanded incredulously. "No, I'm not." I shook my head in denial. "I was outraged when I finally realized that the women at the saloon were doing more than serving drinks. But I'm not a hypocrite. Poverty and the lack of other jobs may have forced them into being 'working girls,' but those women can leave whenever they want--they're paid for what they do--and Hank doesn't own them. As despicable as prostitution is, it's not rape and the women who are engaging in it are at least free." There was a light knock on the door, and it opened to admit a slightly windblown Erik. "Am I interrupting?" "Of course not." I got up and went to him, leading him toward Beth. "Come and meet my sister." "You must be Mr. Lawson." She held out her hand. "Close--but not quite." His blue eyes twinkled with good humor. "Beth, this is Erik Lausenstrom--Hank's brother. Erik, Elizabeth McShane." "The McShane family is clearly blessed with beautiful women." He brushed at the lock of hair that tumbled over his forehead. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance." "The pleasure is all mine." "Erik is an attorney in Wilmington. When I sent a telegram to ask him to recommend a lawyer for Hank, he decided to come out himself." "Unfortunately, my being here hasn't been all that productive so far," he admitted ruefully, taking off a brown tweed coat and hanging it on a wall peg. "How's Zach?" "Nothing's changed since I relieved Mrs. Cullhain at six this morning." "I haven't spoken to Dr. Quinn since last night--not since he woke up." "From what I understand he was extremely agitated and complaining of a headache, which Michaela says is very good news after a head injury. Apparently, too little activity is often an indication that there has been serious damage to the brain." I took my place again on the edge of the bed, my back propped against the headboard. "All that we know for certain is that Zach has a slight loss of recent memory, which is something that Mike expected and which she says is often permanent. The last thing that he could remember was the three of us having lunch. There's no recollection whatsoever of the accident." "He doesn't recall being at the cabin?" "No." "Then he won't remember you telling him that your engagement to his father has been called off." Erik sighed. "And I don't know how I'm ever going to bring myself to tell him again." Tears filled my eyes as I gazed down at Zach and gently smoothed his hair back out of his face. "Let Hans do it this time." Zach stirred restlessly, snuggling against my side in his sleep, like a young child seeking the warmth of his mother, and my heart was flooded with both pain and love. We had come so close to losing him--and even though Erik had reassured me more than once that I was not to blame in any way for what had happened, I kept going over the accident again and again in my head, unable to shake the feeling that there was something that I should have done differently to have kept it from happening. "Sully and I spent the entire morning riding from house to house, trying to find somebody who might have seen or heard anything out of the ordinary the night that Walker was killed." Moving closer, Erik laid his hand on my shoulder, instinctively knowing that I needed both comforting and distraction from my concern over Zach. "So far we haven't come up with anything new, but we'll go out again in the morning." "The trial is less than two weeks away--and we still don't know the truth about what happened." I bit my lip. "The burden of proof is on the prosecution," he reminded me quietly. "It's their job to make a Jury believe beyond a reasonable doubt that Hans killed Walker." "I'm terrified that he's going to sit there brooding and end up letting them hang him for something that he didn't do." I swallowed hard. "I've been spending time with Matthew Cooper--reading up on Colorado territorial law, in case Hans changes his mind. If he hasn't brought his own lawyer in from Denver by the time we go to trial, then I'll ask to be appointed to defend him, whether he likes it or not. Going into Court cold, without a chance to hear his side of things ahead of time, will put me at a disadvantage, but if there's no other choice then that's the way we'll do it." "There must be some way to get through to him. Swinging from the gallows is an awfully high price to pay for being a stubborn fool." "Maybe if you tried talking to him again?" "I'm probably the last person who he would be willing to listen to... You heard what he said to me last night." "I also know why he said what he did." He squatted on his heels next to the bed so that he could look me in the eye. "And so do you." "I was so angry that I wanted to strangle him," I whispered. "And in the next few minutes, when he was crying over Zach, I wanted to pull him into my arms and never let go." "Hopefully, he'll come to his senses soon." Erik took my hands into his own. "Now ain't that a pretty picture." Hank's voice came from the open doorway. I looked up at him, my heart beating too rapidly as I took in the high cheekbones, shiny blond waves spilling over the lapels of his black coat, his neatly trimmed beard, and the brilliant blue of his eyes. He appeared to have lost weight during the time that he had been jailed, and deep smudges beneath his lower lashes testified to lost sleep, but in my eyes he would always remain the most handsome man that I had ever known, even when he was old and gray. "Ya want Cait, you can have her--but take yer courtin' somewheres else," he growled, stepping into the room with Sully at his heels. "I'm not yours to give away--and Erik and I are NOT 'courting!" I ground out between gritted teeth. "Whatta ya call it back in Savannah when a man who ain't payin' for it is kissin' you and holdin' you and down on his knees at yer feet?" he asked sarcastically, his eyes narrowing as they swept over me. "What gives you the right to run roughshod over the rest of the world, Hank Lawson?" I fired back savagely. "Where is it written down that you can be just as mean and nasty to other people as you feel like being?" "You already fallin' in love with my brother?" he demanded, ignoring my volley. "You wouldn't recognize love if it bit your behind," I accused angrily. "Maybe not, but I done more'n my share of what passes for it in the dark." "That's enough," Sully ordered quietly. "Both of you--get the hell away from my kid," Hank snapped. "Go on. Get out! I don't wanna see either one of you near Zach again." "I'm not leaving." Erik rose to his full height. "And neither is Caitlyn." "Boy don't need you. Stay out of his life." "Perhaps Zach should be the one to decide whether or not he wants me around." Erik shrugged. "If they hang you, your family is all that he will have left. He may not make the same choices that you have." Taking a deep breath to calm my anger, I got up from the bed. "Beth, this is Byron Sully, Michaela's husband. And that--THAT foul-tempered, presumptuous boor--is Hank Lawson, the man that I was once crazy enough to think that I wanted to marry. Sully, my sister, Elizabeth McShane." "Nice to meet you." Sully smiled. Giving Beth a brief nod of acknowledgement, Hank abruptly pushed his way past Erik and me to Zach's bedside and gazed down at his son. His expression softened, and he gently ran his fingertips over the two-day covering of soft blond beard that darkened the boyish jawline. "Why's he sleepin' so much?" "Animals or folks--when a body's hurt bad, it needs more sleep to heal," Sully answered quietly. "Michaela think he's really gonna be all right?" Hank lowered himself into the place that I had vacated. "He ain't out of the woods yet--but she says he's startin' to head in the right direction." Sully held the guitar that he had been carrying out to Hank. "Here." "Already told ya once--I don't want it." "An' you told her yesterday you'd do anything she wanted you to do for Zach." "Thought she might want some o' my blood--or somethin'. Don't see how me playin' that could make a hill o' beans of difference." "Can't see how it'll hurt either, can you?" Sully asked matter-of-factly. Hank reluctantly tuned the instrument, and we were all silent as notes from songs that I had danced to before and during the War filled the room. He was a surprisingly talented musician, his playing both skillful and expressive, and after the first few minutes he seemed to forget our presence and lose himself in the music. Initially puzzled by Mike's request, since she had seemed to feel that talking to Zach and touching him while he had been unconscious was wasted effort on my part, I gradually began to understand that the music that Hank played was for himself, not for his son. He was visibly relaxing, the lines of tension slowly disappearing from his face, as his long fingers drew increasingly complex variations of melodies from the resonant wood. Realizing that Hank was unable to reach out to anyone else, no matter how badly he was hurting on the inside, Michaela had wisely devised another way for him to find some type of comfort. "Was this sister of yours as much of a spitfire growin' up as she is now?" Sully grinned at me before turning to Beth. "Absolutely," Beth confided with a smile. "Cat could run faster, climb higher, and ride better than any boy her age. There was nothing that John--our older brother--did that she wouldn't try. I used to watch the two of them swinging out on a rope over the pond, then letting go to drop into the water, and wish that I had half the nerve that Cat did. When I was a tiny little girl I wanted to grow up to be just like her." "Cat?" Sully chuckled. "Because of them claws that come out whenever she's riled up?" "I don't know who gave her the nickname--or why--but no one but Mother ever dared to call her anything else until she was old enough to start being interested in boys." She laughed. "We all knew better. Occasionally, Johnny would taunt her by calling her, 'Caitlyn,' just for the sheer aggravation of it, and the next thing that I knew he would be rolling around on the ground, howling with laughter, with her on top pounding him with both fists and threatening to bloody his nose if he ever called her by that 'sissy' name again." "What threat? I did bloody his nose!" I protested lightly. "And both of them used to swear that they would pin me up on the clothesline and leave me there if I told," she recalled wryly. "It was strictly an idle threat." I grinned. "We were too afraid that Ethella might actually take us out to the woodshed and 'tan our hides' the way that she was always threatening to do. After the day that John and I hid behind the shed and listened while she took a switch to Josiah--her own son--that was one trip that I was sure that I never wanted to make." "And here I was thinking that Caitlyn and Zach were pulling my leg when they were bickering about some baseball game that they had played in the meadow..." Erik admitted in amusement. "I learned to play the game so that I could teach my students." "And she plays to win," Sully teased. "I've been the hurler in some of those games." "Mother and Ethella were always warning Cat that if she didn't start acting more ladylike she would never find a husband, but when she turned l3 every male living between Charleston and Birmingham started calling and filling up her dance card, hoping that he might be the one who she would choose for her beau." "As you can easily tell, my baby sister inherited the gift of Blarney from our Irish ancestors," I commented drily. "It should come in handy, now that she's finished University and ready to teach." "Will you be looking for a teaching position in this part of the country?" Erik questioned. "I was graduated only three days before I boarded the train to come out here. I haven't had time to discover where the jobs are." "Teachers are needed in half of the towns in Colorado, but if you like it here you should consider applying for my job for next year. You could take over the loan on my house, and I would throw in all of the furnishings. You wouldn't even need to buy pots and pans." I went to the window to look out over the street. "You seriously considerin' leavin'?" Sully asked quietly. "At this point I've already made up my mind to go." "Lotta people will be real sorry to hear that." "And others will be more than happy to see the last of me." "Any place you live there's gonna be somebody who don't care for you much--same goes for everybody in this room." "I'll miss my friends here--especially you and Michaela and Zach." I turned my back to the window. "But it's time for me to go home. After this trial is over my life here is going to become extremely uncomfortable, and as soon as I can move back to Riverview and begin looking for job at a school somewhere in the South, the better off that I will be." "I'm on the Board of Trustees in Wilmington, if I can be of some assistance in helping you find a position there," Erik offered. "We are always in need of teachers with your training and experience." "Gotta hand it to ya," Hank drawled. "See somethin' ya want, and you go right after it, faster'n a dog goes after a..." "Why don't you just shut your mouth?" Eric interrupted, getting up abruptly and crossing the room to stand next to his brother. "Why don't you shut it for me?" "I would be delighted to, if this wasn't the wrong time and place." Erik's tone was overly polite, his eyes flashing with anger. "Ya willin' to spend the rest of yer life wonderin' if Cait wanted you for yerself--or if it's because you look like me?" Hank held his gaze. "You stupid, miserable bastard!" Erik snarled, his patience at an end. "I don't know why I'm even bothering to try to save your neck! You may well be innocent, but you're not worth my time--and you're sure as hell not worth one single minute of Caitlyn's! If I--" "Pa?" Zach's raspy whisper brought the room to a sudden silence. "Yeah?" Hank reached out to push sweat-dampened hair away from his son's brow. "Sing me the water song." "The water song?" he repeated, puzzled. "The one you and Ma sang me every night...while I fell asleep." "Can't believe you remember that." Hank's eyes filled with unshed tears. "I never heard you play it again after she died." "Probably forgot the words by now," Hank mumbled, turning the peg to tune the high "e" string. "How 'bout 'Soldier's Joy?' You always liked that one." "I dreamed I saw her sittin' on the end of the bed like she used to...when I was a little boy and you and her would sing to me. Saw Ma's face plain as day," Zach's voice was soft with confusion. Appearing pale and shaken, Hank began to play his guitar, the melody line growing stronger as he focused his attention on nothing but Zach. "The water is wide... I cannot cross over. Nor have I wings with which to fly...Give me a boat...that can carry two. We both shall row...my love and I."Love is gentle...Love is kind...The sweetest flower, when first it's new....But love grows old...It waxes cold...and fades away--like morning dew...... There is a ship...that sails the seas...She's loaded deep, as deep can be...but not as deep as the love I'm in...and by your hand, I sink or swim..." His voice cracking with emotion, Hank stopped abruptly in mid-song, drawing in deep shuddering breaths. Thrusting the instrument away--his shoulders shaking with gut-wrenching, silent tears--he bent his upper body over Zach, wrapping the boy in his arms. For what seemed like several minutes the four of us who watched sat absolutely still as this man, who guarded his emotions more carefully than most men did their gold, crumbled in front of our eyes. "I love ya, son," he finally managed. "Don't leave me." "I won't." "You can't let 'em hang you." "No," Hank agreed quietly, hastily wiping his sleeve over his eyes before twisting around to face Erik. "Willya help me...please?" |
