Dorothy Garlock (19 page)

“So what is it you need?” Fawn asked, an insincere smile still plastered on her face.

Hallie turned and stared at the other woman. Though it had been her idea, she still couldn’t believe that she had willingly volunteered to spend part of the afternoon with Fawn. Everything about Fawn seemed false; from her smile to her clothes and even her manners, all was calculated for effect. Hallie could practically see the wheels turning behind the woman’s eyes. Such distrust made it hard for her to find her voice.

“Um . . . we need—we need a sack of flour and one of coffee,” she managed to finally stammer.

“That’s all you need?” Fawn asked with a laugh. “Why that’s hardly worth the time to come to town!” Before Hallie could open her mouth, the young woman added, “I’ll tell Mr. Kettle what we need and he’ll have it made right up and ready!”

She strode across the wooden floor, the sound of her heels echoing around the mercantile, and approached the man standing behind the long counter, all with the air of privilege, the assurance of a woman used to getting what she wanted.

Hallie was too far away to hear what Fawn was saying, but from the way that the store’s owner—a squat, heavyset man in an apron who sported a huge bushy mustache—was vigorously nodding his head, she knew he would deny nothing to Fawn Billings.

“It’s all taken care of!” Fawn exclaimed proudly. “Mr. Kettle will have your order brought to the wagon and loaded.” Then, with a conspiratorial wink, she lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “I also had him put it all on my daddy’s tab. With all the work he has at the bank, he won’t bother to look over the particulars when he settles the bill.”

“Oh!” Hallie exclaimed. “You shouldn’t have! Eli won’t like it.”

“What Eli doesn’t know can’t possibly hurt him, now can it?” Fawn smirked mischievously. “Besides, Mr. Kettle has already set about his work. It would be rude to interrupt him.”

Over Fawn’s shoulder, Hallie could see that the mercantile owner had indeed begun to gather her items. He stood before the sacks of flour, his back already hunched over in an anticipation of the strain of lifting.

“Eli would want to thank you just the same,” Hallie said.

“Oh, I doubt that very much.” Fawn laughed.

“Why on earth would you say that?”

“Because Eli Morgan is the sort who doesn’t want anyone to do for him what he can do for himself,” Fawn explained with the wave of one finely cared-for hand. “He’s been that way ever since we were children. He’d just as soon give me thanks for purchasing your goods as he would thank whoever murdered his brother.”

Even in the stifling heat inside the mercantile, Hallie suddenly felt all of the blood in her veins run ice cold at Fawn’s casual words. She knew little about what had happened to Caleb; what Eli had told her about his younger brother’s murder and the grief that he still held in his heart over that loss had been painful for her to hear. But the callous way in which Fawn mentioned his death sent chills running up and down Hallie’s spine.

Part of her wanted to walk away from Fawn, to turn on her heel and disappear out into the heat of the summer day. But another part didn’t want to give the spoiled young woman the satisfaction of knowing that she had gotten under her skin. When Hallie spoke, her back was ramrod straight, her voice cool. “I’m certain that Eli will want to pay for his own supplies.”

“I wouldn’t accept it,” Fawn said simply.

“Why not?”

“Because money isn’t the type of repayment that I’m looking for.”

“What is?”

At that question, Fawn took a quick step closer to Hallie. Her eyes regarded her with the intensity that a fox gives to a baby chick that has strayed too far from its mother’s side. “What I want is to know who you really are, Little Miss Hallie Wolcott from places unknown,” she demanded. “I want the truth. I want to know where you came from and why you’re staying at the Morgans’ ranch.”

Now Hallie knew why Fawn had so readily agreed to accompany her to the mercantile; she had jumped at the chance to get her away from Eli and to pressure her into telling her what she wished to know. Hallie, however, was determined not to give Fawn the information she wanted.

“My two friends and I were going to Denver,” she began, the words sliding off of her tongue as easily as if they were true. “We had been traveling by wagon, after we left the train, when we were caught in the storm that struck a week ago. If it hadn’t been for our good luck in coming across Eli and his uncle, I don’t know what would have happened to us.”

“Three women traveling alone in a wagon at night?” Fawn asked skeptically.

Hallie nodded with as much confidence as she could muster.

“Why wouldn’t you have known enough to seek shelter?”

“The two women who were traveling with me and I are all to be teachers,” Hallie lied further, certain that Pearl would have laughed uproariously at the very idea. “None of us had ever been in that sort of weather and didn’t know any better. Truly, we’re lucky to be alive.”

As Fawn listened, Hallie could see her interest growing colder. Certainly, she had wanted something much more salacious, something full of adventure and excitement; what she really wanted was the
truth
. Unfortunately for Fawn, that was something Hallie wasn’t prepared to give.

“But then why are you still staying with the Morgans?” Fawn asked, refusing to let go without some form of juicy rumor. “Even if your wagon was damaged, certainly it would have been repaired by now.”

“They are still working on it.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re sweet on Eli?” Fawn taunted.

In the face of all Fawn’s questions and accusations, Hallie felt herself wilting; it was as if she were a flower shriveling under the relentless glare of the sun. She was certain that Fawn would keep asking questions, would keep hammering away at her, and would hack something away from the facade that Hallie was constructing. It was because of such worry that she inadvertently gave away a truth.

“It’s because my companions and I are caring for Mrs. Morgan.”

Fawn seized on the information. “Mrs. Morgan?” she exclaimed. “Whatever is the matter with her that she needs your care?”

“She fell the other day,” Hallie explained, the slope already far too slippery for her to regain her footing with lies. “It wasn’t too serious, but the doctor has asked her to stay off her feet for a while. In the meantime, we’re lending a hand.”

“You don’t say . . .”

A thin smile spread across Fawn’s face.
Is she actually pleased that Adele Morgan is hurt?
Hallie’s words seemed to roll around in Fawn’s head, bearing further fruit with every turn. Absently, she began to walk away from Hallie, suddenly oblivious to the other woman’s presence, until Hallie was once again alone, standing at the front of the mercantile.

“Oh, what have I done?” she muttered to herself.

As if in answer, her arm was suddenly pinched in a viselike grip and she was violently yanked to the side and away from the open door. Her feet were pulled out from beneath her and she struggled to hold her balance.

“Hold yer tongue, girly,” a man’s voice ordered.

In the corner of the mercantile, away from the light of the door and deep into the gloomy shadows, she somehow knew who was speaking to her before her eyes could focus upon her attacker.

It’s the man who was watching me out in front of the saloon!

“No, don’t—” she began before he clamped his hand down roughly on her mouth.

“Best keep those screams to yourself, little darlin’.” He smiled at her through crooked, stained teeth. When he spoke, his breath smelled of whiskey. “Don’t be foolish and give me a reason to slit yer pretty little throat.”

Eli climbed the last steps of the steep hill to Bison City’s cemetery through waves of heat that made the tombstones shimmer and sway as if they were floating adrift in the ocean. He wiped the glistening sweat from his brow with the back of his arm and peeked at the sky from under the brim of his hat. The sun stood at its highest point, beating down without mercy.

“What in the hell am I doing here?” he muttered to himself.

Even as he spoke it, Eli knew the answer to that particular question; it was one that he had grappled with for years, never finding the right answer until Hallie had provided one for him the night before.

I’m doing what is needed
.

The cemetery was located west of town, up a steep hill, and nestled in among tall elms, oaks, and pines that sat at the edge of the greater forest beyond. Thick brush filled the space between these sentinels that watched silently over the dead. From where he stood, Eli could look back over all Bison City and far into the valley in which it lay.

For a moment, he simply stood and looked at the tombstones. Most were made of white marble or gray granite, engraved names almost obliterated by the years of pounding rain and blazing sun. They stood not in rows but haphazardly, as if the bodies that they marked had simply fallen on the spot and been buried posthaste. A wrought-iron fence had been built around the perimeter.
Is it to keep intruders out or the spirits within?
Eli wondered.

From his time in the army, Eli had some familiarity with the dead. He’d seen men who had been shot, stabbed, dismembered, or had suffered any other calamity that could befall a soldier. But, somehow, as he stood before the cemetery and the tombstones that were contained therein, he was struck by just how different this all was; these were the graves of his kith and kin.
This is my family!

Swallowing hard and mustering his determination, Eli stepped up to the waist-high gate and swung it in on rusty hinges that screamed as if in pain. The dry grass crunched under his boots as he stepped among the stones, peering at the worn names that had been carved into them, searching for the ones that belonged to his brother and father.

I wish Hallie were here
.

He couldn’t help but to think of the soft sound of her voice, the sweet smell of her hair, and the warm touch of her skin against his own. When his lips had brushed against hers, he’d marveled at the way it had made him feel, the fire that it had lit in his belly. She was
different
, special, and unlike any woman he would have ever expected to meet in Bison City.

The type of woman I meet in Bison City is either a whore or like Fawn Billings!

He had hated to leave Hallie alone with her, but he could tell that she was trying to tactfully arrange his visit to the cemetery without Fawn’s unwanted intrusion. He felt certain that Fawn would pester her relentlessly, demanding to know things that weren’t any of her business. Fawn would fear that Hallie was trying to steal her imagined place by his side. When he had run into Fawn several days previously, it had been obvious that she still had designs on him, her engagement to Seth McCarty be damned.

Eli was grateful not to find Seth at Fawn’s side. Remembering the slanderous words the man had spoken on his first visit to Bison City still raised his ire.
It’s as if nothing has changed between us!
It would have been hard enough for him to stay his hand if Seth had once again commenced with a tongue-lashing directed toward
him
, but if he had turned his biting comments to Hallie, no amount of restraint would have been enough for Eli to keep from thrashing the man just as he had when they were boys. Then again, maybe Hallie wouldn’t have needed his help. She struck him as the type that could more than hold her own.

“After all,” he said aloud, “she’s put up with my mother for—”

The words died in Eli’s throat as he read the name on the tombstone before him. The white rock of the marker was clean, the letters and dates of birth and death just as crisp as the day in which they had been carved by a steady hand. A few loose stones and pesky weeds shared space at the base of the stone, but all these details were lost on Eli, all save the name itself:
CALEB JOSIAH MORGAN
.

Emotion welled in Eli’s chest. Blood pounded in his ears, and his mouth was as dry as the air around him. His vision blurred as tears came unbidden.

“Brother,” he whispered.

In the many times he’d imagined himself standing before his brother’s grave, Eli never thought he would be so overwhelmed with loss. Thinking about Caleb’s murder had always caused despair and anger to rage within Eli’s mind; but now, standing in the cemetery, he felt such a sense of loss that it was as if one of his limbs had been severed from his body, leaving him to go through the rest of his life incomplete.

Tentatively, Eli reached one shaking hand to his brother’s marker, desperate for some contact with Caleb, no matter how tenuous. The pale flesh of his palm burned from the heat that the stone held, but he paid it little mind, choosing instead to hold it tighter as penance for a visit withheld too long.

“I’m so sorry, Caleb,” he began, the pent-up words falling from his mouth as if they were water spilling from an opened dam. “I’m sorry that you were murdered, sorry that you never got to live the life you wanted, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t help the day you were put in this goddamn place! But I just had to get away from Bison City and the ranch and our parents! I had to go or I would’ve suffocated!”

As the minutes stretched by, Eli spoke of his time in the army, of the life he’d led in Texas, and of his return to their birthplace. He spoke of his confusion at all that had happened with Abe; of his mother’s continued obstinacy; and even of Hallie, Pearl, and Mary. He spoke until his voice was hoarse, but still he croaked on, afraid he’d leave something out. As the words spilled out, he was struck by the realization that Hallie had been right: He needed to come and make his peace.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the gravestone that lay next to that of his brother. It had been partly covered with leaves so he hadn’t seen it before. The marker was smaller and cut from a darker stone, but what Eli could not pry his eyes from was the name:
MILBURN SAMUEL MORGAN.

Eli couldn’t help but be struck by the irony of the situation: his father and Caleb lying next to each other peacefully in death as they could not in life. All the time that he had been carrying on before Caleb, there his father had lain, as if listening to his every word. Eli couldn’t keep a smile from crossing his face.