House On Windridge (2 page)

He reread the letter several times before finally sealing it in an envelope and penning the New York address to the outside.

There
, he thought.
The job is done. I have only to mail this letter and receive her response and then—then I can put this all behind me
.

Buck came in about that time. “Boss, we've been looking things over as best we can. Looks like most of the stock survived.”

Gus nodded. He had little desire to talk about the ranch or his responsibilities.

“There's something else I need to discuss with you,” Buck said hesitantly.

“Then speak up,” Gus replied, seeing Buck's apprehension. It wasn't like the man to skirt around an issue.

“It has to do with her.”

Gus felt the wind go out from him. For days the only way he'd managed to get through the hours was to avoid thinking about her. It was one thing to mention her in a letter to Harriet, but another thing to consider what was to be done in the aftermath of her death. In fact, he had no idea what had already been done in the way of preparing her for her burial. He'd simply refused to have any part of it.

“All right,” he finally answered.

“Well,” Buck began slowly, “I built her, ah. . .” He faltered. “I mean, well, that is to say—”

“You built her a coffin?” Gus questioned irritably.

Buck nodded. “Yes, Sir. We took her out like you asked. But, Gus, the ground is too froze up for burial.”

Gus growled and pounded his fists on the ground. “I don't care if you have to blow a hole in the ground with dynamite. I want her buried today.” Buck nodded and without another word took off in the direction from which he'd come.

Several hours later, Gus heard and felt the explosion that signaled the use of dynamite. It rattled the windows and caused the baby to howl up a fit, but Gus knew instinctively that it would also resolve the problem. They would bury her today. Buck would say the words, given their inability to have the preacher ride out from town, and they would put her body into the ground.

Gus tried to think of everything analytically. First he would see to
Naomi. Then he would see to Jessica's care. Then he would take care of himself.

❧

Two weeks after the little funeral, Gus was finally able to post his letter to Harriet in Cottonwood Falls. And two months after that, with a strangely warm March whipping up one of the first thunderstorms of the season, Gus rode back from town, reading the missive he'd received from New York City.

Of course, you must realize I am hardly the young woman I was when Naomi was small, but I would be honored to raise Jessica for as long as time permits.

He breathed a sigh of relief. She had agreed to take the child. He continued reading.

However, I do have my own requirements to see to such an arrangement. First, I desire final say over her upbringing. As you pointed out, you are hardly aware of her needs. I want no interference, no monthly visits, no constant trips back and forth between the desolate American desert and New York. I want the child to know proper society and schooling before she is exposed to the barbaric plains of Kansas. I also believe it will diminish any sense of loss in the child. In other words, if she is constantly looking toward her next trip to Kansas, she may well be unruly and unwilling to focus on her life here.

Well,
Gus thought,
that certainly wasn't a problem.
He wouldn't be around, but, of course, he couldn't tell Harriet that.

Secondly, I have devised the figures that I believe constitute the proper amount of money necessary to care properly for a child in New York City. She will be a child of social standing, and, therefore, the cost is higher than you might otherwise believe necessary. If you will note the second page of this letter, however, you will see I have detailed the information for you.

Gus looked at the page and noted that Harriet had indeed outlined the cost for food, clothing, schooling, supplies, toys, furniture, and a nanny to assist Harriet. It all seemed perfectly reasonable, even if it was a pricey figure.
Still,
he thought,
it didn't matter.
He wouldn't be around to argue or protest Harriet's judgment. He turned back to the first page of the letter and continued to read.

If these things meet with your approval, then I will expect to receive the child whenever you deem yourself capable of delivering her.

Gus breathed a sigh of relief. It was all falling into place.

❧

Once he'd arrived at Windridge, Gus called Katie and Buck into the library and explained the situation.

“I'm sending Jessica to her mother's aunt in New York City,” he said flatly, without a hint of emotion in his voice. His emotions were dead. Dead and cold, just as she was.

Katie spoke first. “What? How can you do this? I'm perfectly happy to bring her up for you, Mr. Gussop.”

“Katie,” he replied, “you and Buck are about to begin your lives together. There's no need to be saddling you with a ready-made family.”

“But we don't mind,” Katie insisted.

“Honestly, Boss,” Buck added, and Gus would have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

“This is how it's going to be,” Gus stated, leaving no room for further protest. “The Flinthills is no place to raise a child. The desolation and isolation would be cruel. There'll be no other children for her to grow up with, and the responsibilities of this ranch are enough to keep you both running from day to night. That is, unless you'd rather not stay on with me.” Gus watched their expressions of sorrow turned to disbelief.

“Of course, we'll stay on with you,” Katie replied.

“Absolutely, Boss. We're here to do our job, but more important, we're here because we're friends.”

Gus nodded. He would leave them both a hefty chunk of money upon his death. They were faithful and loyal, and a man didn't often find friends such as these.

“I have a favor to ask,” he finally said. “I need Katie to take Jessica to New York. You can go along too, Buck. Act as her escort. Mrs. Nelson is ex
pecting the child, and the sooner we get started on it, the better. I'll go with you into town, and we'll purchase train tickets. I'll also draw out a substantial sum of money from the bank, and that will be your traveling money. I'll wire another substantial amount directly to Mrs. Nelson's bank account, so there will be no need for you to worry about carrying it with you. Will you do this for me?”

Katie broke down and started to cry, and Buck put his arm around her. “Hardly seems like the kind of thing we could refuse,” he told Gus. “But I can't leave Windridge right now. You know full well there's too much work to be done. Those Texas steers will be coming our way in another month or two, and that last storm took out a whole section of fence. Not to mention the fact that we're breaking six new stock horses. I can't take the time away and stay on top of this as well.”

“It'll be here when you get back,” Gus assured him.

“No, Sir,” Buck said emphatically. “Katie's ma and brother can go along with her. If you'll pay their ticket instead of mine, I'd be much obliged.”

Gus didn't like the idea but nodded in agreement. “If that's the way you want it,” he told Buck.

“It is.”

❧

And so it was nearly a week later that Gus watched the carriage disappear
down the long, winding Windridge drive. He felt strangely calm as he
watched them go. He knew he'd done the right thing. The very best thing for all parties concerned. Jessica would grow up never knowing either parent, but she would be loved and cared for just as Naomi would have wanted.

With a solemnity that matched the weight of the moment, Gus turned and stared at the house he'd created. Three stories of native limestone made a proud sentinel against the open prairie sky. It was her house—her home. She had loved it, and he had loved her. The memories were painful, and for the first time since she had died, Gus allowed himself to cry.

At first, it was just a trickle of tears, and then a full rush of hot liquid poured from his eyes. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried, and so instead of trying, he simply made his way to the library and closed the door behind him. He
thought for a moment to lock it but decided against it. Someone would have to come in and take care of the mess, and there was no sense in having them have to bust down the door and ruin the house in order to do so. The house would one day belong to Jessica, just as it had belonged to her mother. He wanted to keep it neat and orderly for her. He wanted to offer her at least this much of himself.

He took a seat at his desk and pulled out his handkerchief. Wiping away
the tears, Gus took out a piece of paper and began to pen a note of explana
tion
for Buck. He'd already seen to his will when he'd gone into Cottonwood Falls for the train tickets. Everything would go to Jessica, with the exception of five thousand dollars, which was to be shared equally between Buck and
Katie.

But this letter was an apology. An apology for not having been stronger. An apology for the problems he would now heap on his dearest friend.

I can't go on without her. The pain of losing her is too much to bear alone. If you can see your way to staying on and keeping up the ranch on Jessica's behalf, I would count it as my final earthly blessing. I have also arranged for you to be paid handsomely for the job. I just want you to know there was absolutely nothing you could have done to prevent this. I did what I had to do.

He signed the letter and left it to sit in the middle of his desk. He didn't want Buck to have a bit of trouble locating it. Then with a final glance around the room, Gus reached into the desk drawer and pulled out his revolver.

A knock on the library door caused him to quickly hide the gun back in its drawer. “Come in,” he called.

Buck moseyed into the room as though nothing sorrowful had ever come to them. He held a pot of coffee in one hand and two cups in the other. “Thought you could use this just about now.”

“I'm not thirsty,” Gus replied.

“Well, then, use it to warm yourself.”

“Ain't cold, either.”

Buck put the coffee down on top of the note Gus had just finished writing. He stared hard at Gus for a moment, then put the cups down and took a seat. “I can't let you do it, Gus,” he said so softly that Gus had to strain to hear him. “I ain't gonna let you die.”

Gus stared at him in stunned surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“I know what you're doing, and that's why I didn't go with Katie,” Buck said, quite frankly. “I know you've been putting your affairs in order, and I know why.”

Gus said nothing. He couldn't figure out how in the world Buck had known him well enough to expect this action.

“See, I know what it is to lose someone you love. You probably don't know this, but I was married a long time ago. I am, after all, thirteen years Katie's senior. Anyway, my wife died. Died in childbirth, along with our son.”

Gus shook his head. “I didn't know that.”

Buck nodded. “Well, it happened, and I would have followed her into the grave but for the ministerings of my ma. She knew how heartbroken I
was. Sarah—that was my wife's name—and I had been childhood sweet
hearts.
We'd grown up side by side, and we'd always figured on marrying. My ma knew it would be like putting a part of myself in that grave, and she refused to leave me alone for even a moment's time. And that's what I intend to do for you.” He shifted back in the chair and crossed his leg to fumble with his
boot for a moment.

“See, I know you intend to kill yourself, Gus. But it isn't the answer.”

“I suppose you know what the answer is,” Gus replied sarcastically. He wanted Buck to storm out of the room and leave him be. He didn't care if Buck hated him or called him names; he just wanted to forget everything and go to be with his Naomi.

“I do know,” Buck replied. “God will give you the strength to get through this. You may not think so, but He will. I'm going to stay with you, pray with you, eat with you, and I'll even sleep at the foot of your bed if it keeps you alive.”

Gus gave up all pretense. “I don't want to live. You should understand that.”

“I do. But you're needed here on earth. You have a little girl who needs you. You have friends who need you.”

“I don't want to be needed.”

Again Buck nodded. “Neither did I, but I had no choice, and neither do you. Do you really want to leave that little girl with the guilt that she somehow caused her ma's and pa's deaths? It's bad enough that she'll have to live with the guilt of her mother dying, but hopefully, some kind person will teach her that it wasn't her fault. But if you put a bullet through your head, she'll be convinced it was her fault.”

“That's stupid. It wouldn't have anything to do with her,” Gus answered.

“You and I might know that, but she won't. And, Gus, there won't be a single person in this world who'll be able to convince her otherwise.”

Gus realized the truth in what Buck said. He felt his eyes grow warm with tears. “It hurts so bad to lose Naomi—to face a lifetime without her.”

Buck nodded. “I know, and that's why we aren't going to face a lifetime. We're just gonna take one day at a time. I'll help you get through this, but you've got to be willing to try. For Jessica's sake, if for no other.”

Gus thought about it for a moment. He didn't have the strength to do what Buck suggested, but neither did he want to burden his child—her child —with the idea that she was responsible for his death. “I just don't know, Buck. When I think about the years to come—and I know that she won't be there—it just isn't something I want to deal with.”