Sundown (11 page)

“What the hell did I say?”  Jake feigned innocence.

“You didn’t have to say squat.”  Trig shuffled a pile of mashed potatoes, dripping with gravy into his mouth.

“Really Jake?”  Jenny frowned.  Standing to her feet, she marched toward the front door and pa
used.  “Just for that you’re
clean
ing
up the dishes tonight.”

Stepping outside, she found Luke bent over the porch with his half empty plate sitting to one side, and his arms flailed over his knees, while he stared toward the distant town of Sundown.  A cool breeze whipped at her dress, flouncing her skirts.  She gathered the folds of her gingham dress and then sat down beside him.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Luke turned his head and stared at Jenny.  His eyes seemed soft, almost reticent. 

“Don’t you miss the old days, before the war?”

Jenny smiled.  “Of course I do.”

“We hadn’t a care in the world.”  Luke murmured.

“It seems almost like a lifetime ago.”

“You the daughter of a rich seafaring merchant, and I the son of a gentleman planter, how genteel and languid our life was back then.”

“Those days are gone forever.”  Jenny reminded him, resigned to the present.

“I should have never let him follow me.”

“You should have known he would have.”  Jenny tried to reply, her voice strained with memory.  “Your brother would have followed you to the ends of this earth if he had to.”

“
He was so dead set against
war.  I never thought he’d enlist in the army just to find me.”

The wind blew again this time soft like a gentle caress against her face.  Jenny closed her eyes, and smiled.

“But he did, and I love him even more for doing so.”

“He was a good man, better than me.”  Luke nodded.

“And now you are the better man for taking care of us.”  Jenny murmured.  “At least that’s what Miss Gentry said.”

“Bella?”  Luke queried.

“Miss Gentry.”  Jenny corrected.  A slow smile touched the corner of her lips.  “By the way, I invited her to supper this Sunday.”

“Why’d you go and do something like that?”  Luke muttered.

“It’s inevitable.”  Jenny replied.  “She’s going to figure it out sooner or later.”

“The boys
and I.”  Luke paused.  Working a tick in his jaw, he changed the subject.  “We need to leave for a spell.”

Jenny perched her chin.  “Why?”

“That damned Pinkerton agent Rafferty is hot on our scent again.”  Luke suddenly stood to his feet.  “He’s been asking around town about me.”

“Where will you go?”  Jenny looked up.

“Abilene, maybe Tulsa.”  Luke figured.  “Hell, wherever the wind blows, I don’t care just as long as we lose his trail.”

“When?”

“Since you were so kind to invite Miss Gentry to Sunday supper, I’d suppose Monday morning.”

“How long this time?”

“We won’t be here when the baby comes.”  Luke answered her unspoken question.  Rubbing his chin, he rolled his eyes heavenward.  “I suppose I’ll have to get that
meddling
preacher to look in on you.”

“You mean, your brother.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“I have complete faith in the two of you.”  Jenny issued him a solemn vow.  “One day you boys will make up for past grievances.”

“When Hell freezes over.”

Jenny shook her head.
 
“Hasn’t it already?”

No one back home had ever bothered to explain that Colorado Territory was hot and dry, and enough to shrivel a woman’s skin like a wrinkled prune.  Tugging at the drawstrings of her bonnet, Arabella pulled the cap snug over her head while carefully handling a steaming hot apple-pie.  Placing the desert in the back of the wagon, she wrapped a towel over the tin, and climbed into the buckboard beside her father and Lena.

“You sure you don’t want to come along after service?  Arabella asked her father.  She issued him a sidelong glance.  “Miss Jenny invited you.”

“She did?”

Arabella watched her father’s eyes grow soft, considering her question.  For a moment, she thought she detected a hint of
interest.  Looking down at the reigns, he shook his head. 

“I’ve got some work to go over at the office with Wade.”

“Too bad.”  Arabella murmured.  “She seems like an awfully nice person.  Considering her recent loss, I’d say she’s more than hospitable.”

“Send Miss Jenny my regards.”  Wyeth replied.  Yanking on the reigns, the team instantly moved forward. 

As the wagon rattled down the streets of Sundown, Arabella tried hard to understand her father’s position.  Perplexed, she wondered about his aloof behavior.  Aside from Lena, Doc Parker, and his jailhouse deputy, she noticed her father had no desire to socialize any further than his own tight-knit circle.  Somehow, she decided she would have to find a way to change this. 

In the distance, the church bell rang. 

When, they reached the building they were the last to enter for Sunday service.  Hurrying to take a seat, Arabella followed Lena and her father who found room next to his deputy, Wade Coffee and his wife, Lydia.  She had yet to have a proper introduction, but the couple smiled up at her in greeting as if they had known her all her life.

Just then, Parson Hanly stepped up to the podium.  His warm eyes roved over the room, pausing briefly before opening his bible.  On cue, the congregation took to their seats as he shuffled through a few pages before finding the passage he had been looking for.

“If everyone would open your scripture to
Ecclesiastes, chapter three, verse one through eight.”  The
Parson
requested, waiting for the congregation to catch up.  He cleared his throat before commencing to read.
 
Parson
Hanly
finally finished the long and tedious passage.  He
looked up
from his bible and scanned the
silent room
with a smile.  His
eyes drew narrow
when he
raised his hand and pointed toward the ceiling.

“God is speaking to all of us
.”
He motioned, stepping away from the p
odium he began to paraphrase.
  “
To everything there is a season, to every purpose under heaven.”

Descending the pulpit, he began to walk toward the center aisle his footsteps heavy with moderation.  Stopping beside an old man at the end of the aisle, he rested his hand on his shoulder. 

“My friends.”  He spoke quietly.  “We suffer, some more than others, but we bear the cross don’t we?”

In unison, there was a round of encouragement. 

Parson Hanly lifted his hand and continued down the aisle.

“Who doesn’t want to laugh, or dance?”  He smiled, placing his hands behind his back.  Arabella watched as he turned around and paused before her aisle, letting his gaze travel to each person seated, until he rested his placid gaze on her.

“Or dare I say it … who wants to love?”

This time there was a delighted round of laughter.  The Parson lifted his chin, and turned to the other aisle.  For the first time, she caught his stare.  Bray Hanly sat in the same aisle, staring at her with hooded eyes, his expression cloaked under a mask of bleak derision.

“But.”  The Parson lifted his voice, narrowing his gaze at his own family.  Smiling at Jenny Hanly, he continued.  “When we choose the hate festering inside us, it leaves us lacking the love God gave us.  It prevents us from a time to heal, or a time to embrace.”

He stood for a moment, silent in his contemplation.  Turning on his heel, he wandered back toward the pulpit, and picked up his bible.

“I must confess.”  He lifted his voice and shook his head.  “I spent my entire evening, contemplating these passages.  After much reflection, I realized God recognizes man’s weakness.  He does not spurn us.  Instead, he encourages us to sustain throughout our darkest hours.  We must learn to let go of these things, which weigh us down, life’s unpleasantry and bitter disappointment.  We must overcome by learning to forgive those who have maligned us, and most of all, that which we must forgive within ourselves.”

Parson Hanly bowed his head. 

“Let us pray before we begin in chorus.”

Arabella watched the entire congregation lower their heads save for one.  Bray Hanly stared toward the pulpit, his stolid gaze an unreadable mask while his brother prayed amongst the flock.  Finally, he pulled his attention away, turning his absorbing gaze upon her.  Not expecting his perusal, she quickly bowed her head and closed her eyes.  Feeling her heart skip a beat, she bit her lip and scolded herself for her strange meddling fascination with the Hanly family.

After Sunday service, Arabella had the chance to chat with the Coffees before making haste for their wagon where her father stood patiently.

“Wade, Lydia, and Lena are waiting for you.”

Wyeth nodded his head. 

“You sure you’re all right riding there by yourself?”

Arabella laughed. 

“I’ve been handling a rig since I was knee-high.  You’re the one who taught me, don’t you remember?”

Wyeth tried to smile, but concern etched the corners of his green eyes. 

“Sundown is much different from life in Sharpsburg.”

Arabella nodded her head, realizing her father’s leeriness.  “I’ll be careful, Poppa.”

Just then, Jenny Hanly walked up to greet them.  The warm smile on her face seemed sincere, and Arabella immediately went to her side.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us for supper.”  She murmured, taking her hand in greeting.  Lifting her chin, Jenny issued Wyeth a hesitant smile and asked.  “Aren’t you coming along Sheriff Gentry?”

Wyeth stuck his thumbs in his pockets, and dropped his chin.  The look, which crossed his face, resembled nothing less than
skittish.

“Sorry, Miss Jenny.”  Shaking his head, he managed an apologetic smile.  “Duty calls.”

Jenny smiled back, nodding her head.  “I understand.”

“Best you leave an hour before dusk.”  He warned his daughter before turning on his heel, and marching off toward the Garrett’s wagon.

Jenny laughed.  “He dotes on you, doesn’t he?”

Arabella sighed.  “I suppose he feels the need to catch up on all those years he lost when I was a child.”

Jenny remained silent but her honey-brown eyes spoke a wave of sympathetic volume.  “I’ll wait for you over there.”    

Arabella stared in the direction, which her friend pointed, spying the rest of the Hanly family waiting patiently.  Picking up her skirts, she climbed into the driver’s seat and gathered the reigns.  With deft precision, she guided the horse team, maneuvering the wagon so she could fall in behind their wagon. 

The sudden patter of horse hooves grabbed her attention.  Turning to her side, she found Parson Hanly, sliding from his mount, and gathering his reigns.  Leading his mount behind her wagon, she watched as he secured his reigns and then climbed into the back of the wagon.  With ease, he hobbled over the buckboard and sat down beside her.

“I hope you don’t mind,” He smiled.  “A gentleman never leaves a woman unattended.”

Arabella laughed.  “You’re coming too?”

“I always do, every Sunday.”

“Then I should enjoy your company.”  Arabella smiled.  “It’s a lovely day for a drive.”

Just ahead, she caught the Parson’s brothers, Jake and Trig smiling back at them alongside little Sam who waved with a spurt of enthusiasm. 

She watched as Jake leaned over and mumbled something to his younger brother Trig.  Laughing, the man stood up and leaned over the buckboard, passing a whisper into his elder brother Bray’s ear.  Luke who shared his back turned his head and stared directly at Parson Hanly.  The look, which crossed his handsome face, was murderous.

Arabella felt her lips thin.

“What’s going on?”  She asked.

“Just a bit of sibling rivalry, is all.”  Parson Hanly smiled at her.  “Nothing to worry about.”

“I recall seeing this before.”  Arabella returned, eyeing him surreptitiously.  “Can you let me in on some history here?”

“I stole his sweetheart.”

“You?”  Arabella raised her eyebrows, not believing what she had just heard.

“Before I became a minister.”  He returned.  “I wasn’t exactly a saint, you know.” 

“How could you?”  Arabella frowned, shaking her head.  “He’s your brother!”

“Fair enough.”  Parson Hanly nodded, tilting his head back he smiled at her candor.  “But truelove has a way of knocking at your door.”

“Where is this Delilah now?”

“She didn’t exactly want a man of the cloth.”  He returned his voice now sounded bitter.

“I’m sorry,” Arabella turned her chin, and looked at him.  “For the both of you.”