Love in the Balance (19 page)

Molly tugged her wrists free and wrapped her arms around his waist. He liked it when she was affectionate. “Must we go any further? It’s already colder than I thought possible. My curls might freeze and break off if we don’t turn back.”

“I’ll not deny you often, but Alaska has significance for my family. My father helped broker its purchase, and I want to see if it was worth it.”

She allowed him to wrap his opened coat around her. “Seward’s Folly? I don’t see what all the hubbub was over. I know land, and the price sounds marvelous.”

“You have no idea how much it cost me.”

Molly lifted her head, confused by his words. His wistful golden eyes bore a fleeting resemblance to those of a young man from Prairie Lea—not the shade, but the emotion, the yearning for something out of reach. But what could Edward long for? He had everything Bailey lacked—connections, money, and her.

Distressed by his sorrow she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand, prompting him to share a warm kiss.

He was nice. He was sweet.

But he wasn’t Bailey.

“Is this enough fresh air?” he asked. “Are you content to retire for the night?”

She released him and tried to hide her hands in her stole, but her new ring of Colorado gold snagged in the fur. Would this disquiet ever be replaced by peace? By her own choice she’d become his wife—legally and physically—but when would the sense of betrayal disappear?

“Go on without me. I’ll visit the dining car for some warm milk first. Maybe it’ll help me sleep.”

“You’ve not disturbed me.”

Molly tried not to. She really, really tried. “But I need my beauty rest. It might be a year before I meet your family, and I don’t want to be wrinkled like a prune by then.”

Edward opened his mouth as if to say something but changed his mind. He helped her over the connection between the platforms and then returned to their home on wheels.

Molly waited until the door closed behind him before she entered the next car. Taking a deep breath she dropped her shoulders and let her head droop forward. Amazing how much effort it took to be presentable around the clock. Now when she could finally shed her miserable stays, she still had to mind her posture and carriage even in her quarters.

The green Pullman sleeper she’d entered was being prepared for the evening. Porters pulled the backs of the benches upward, forming upper beds in each berth while the passengers crowded the aisles, waiting to settle in. She shared a sympathetic grin with a woman holding a lanky sleeping child, who’d no doubt be crowded into the narrow bunk with her. Briefly Molly considered offering her sofa to the harried mother but knew Edward wouldn’t approve. He’d burn all the cushions. She sighed. Maybe she’d rather sleep out here.

For over a week now, she’d gone through the motions. She responded and answered correctly. On the surface she played the role of a newlywed bride, but she felt like a fraud. Even the transitory nature of their quarters contributed to the bizarre. This wasn’t real. The true Molly Lovelace was sleeping off an infirmity back at Mrs. Truman’s boardinghouse. She’d awaken when Bailey bounded up the stairs with her letter in his hand.

Molly bit the inside of her lip in contrition. Sinful. A married woman shouldn’t pine for another man. She’d said “I do.” She couldn’t fault anyone but herself. Well, Bailey could bear some of the blame. He didn’t come through for her, and Edward did.

She turned and jostled her way out of the crowded car toward her duty. No use in crying over spilled milk. She’d made her choice and she’d stand by it. She’d always been a loyal employee.

14

P
RAIRIE
L
EA
, T
EXAS
J
ANUARY
1880

The high-pitched buzz ringing in Bailey’s ears had grown familiar. So had the sweet smell of sawdust. He offered a mug of coffee to the local carpenter, Mr. Mohle, while he looked over his invoice once again.

“We’ll have you loaded before you know it. Is there anything else we can help you with?”

“Nope. That’s enough to finish this job. Sure glad you’re helping Thomas out. Right kind of you, especially after that nasty business with his daughter and all.”

Bailey slid the pencils into the trough that kept them from rolling down the slanted desktop. It’d been two weeks since Molly had left, and he still hadn’t thought of a good reply. He couldn’t speak freely while on her father’s payroll, and he didn’t have the heart to defend her, so he let the comment ride.

“Do you want to go out to the yard and count the boards on?”

“I trust y’all.”

But Bailey wanted out of the office. “Come on. We might as well enjoy the sunshine before another storm rolls in.”

“Naw, I think I’ll wait here.” Mr. Mohle lowered himself to the bench with a grumble.

Bailey looked again at the pencils. Usually he had no problem with small talk, but some people were more of a challenge than others.

“Well, looky who’s standing behind a desk.”

George Garner stepped into the office, followed by Bailey’s two younger brothers, Samuel and Tuck. His father was a welcome sight. Mr. Mohle didn’t rise but offered hearty greetings. Thank goodness he shook Samuel’s outstretched hand. The boy still wasn’t sure when to offer it. Tuck ambled to the counter.

“Pa made us finish branding before we could come see you at work. Ma’s at the parsonage now.”

“What’s she doing there?” Bailey asked.

His pa pushed his hat back until it popped up like the lid of a tin can. “She and the girls are working it over so it’s fit for you to live in. They brought you victuals, too.”

Bailey’s eyes brightened. “Sure could use some of Ma’s cooking. I eat supper with the Lovelaces when I take the accounts over at night, but Lola can’t cook like Ma.”

Tuck’s eyes got big. “You eat with the Lovelaces? Even after Molly done runned off on you?”

Mr. Mohle shifted his weight on the pine bench and leaned forward, his eyes alert. George cuffed his youngest on the head.

“Boy, you gotta learn when to keep your mouth shut.”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Bailey said. And would hear again as soon as his mother got ahold of him. “You boys want to see the waterwheel? I was headed out there myself.”

“The waterwheel? Yee-haw!” Tuck cheered. Even mature Samuel couldn’t hide the interest that lit his face. They took out like two freshly branded calves—Tuck running and Samuel walking stiff-legged until he could no longer keep up with his little brother and had to finally break into a trot.

“How are you doing, son?”

Bailey was proud that his demonstrative pa used some restraint. He didn’t need a hug in front of the crew.

“After Mr. Lovelace’s attack, I thought Molly and I had reached an understanding. I don’t get it. Guess I never will.”

“I don’t know, either. To be honest, your ma and I read the note she sent with Rico. We thought there might be a hint as to your whereabouts in it. Ma was of a mind to burn it, but I put my foot down. You’re an adult and are responsible for your decisions—as is Molly.”

“Reckon you should’ve burned it. I’d still be hurt, but maybe I wouldn’t hate her so much.”

“No use in hating. She can’t hurt you again. Take your lumps and learn from them.”

They walked past the piles of planks toward the angular building hugging the riverbank. Perhaps it’d all work out for the best, and if Bailey kept telling himself that, maybe someday he’d believe it. Molly had her flaws and he’d loved her despite them, but now he tried to rehearse them like the catechism to ward off the memories.

“You like this work?”

“Yeah, I do. Mr. Lovelace has noticed that sales are up. Couple that to the river rising and fewer shipping costs, and things are looking good.” He scanned the teams loading, lifting, and sawing. “Could be this was where God had me headed all along. It suits me. I got bored out in the fields, and working in Lockhart had its own problems.”

“I can see why this job appeals to you. You’re getting paid to talk to people. They ain’t looking to fill another position like that, are they?” George’s wide smile stretched from ear to ear.

“It’s not all that simple. Tricky part is to smooth over what the customer expects and what the customer gets. Sometimes that’s two completely different animals. Then I take the books to Mr. Lovelace when Russell has them balanced up. My only paperwork is the inventory.”

“You haven’t seen James’s son around, have you?”

“Michael? No. I hope he’s staying sober—for Russell’s sake,” Bailey said.

“I pity the man. Can’t imagine what it’d be like to have a son you were ashamed of.”

Bailey had to look away. His father had made some mistakes, but he didn’t deserve a hypocrite like Bailey for a son. Bailey shoved his hands into his pockets. It shouldn’t matter now. As far as his pa knew, he’d kept his promise about Molly. Now that she was married, she wouldn’t tell anyone the truth.

Treading the worn path between the wheelhouse and the riverbank, they caught up with Samuel and Tuck, who’d run downstream for a better look at the revolving waterwheel.

“Incredible what’s accomplished when we use God’s power,” his pa said. “Imagine how many men it would take to saw those planks, day and night. But here’s a river, running like it was designed to, without any effort. You can ignore that power, you can buck against it, or you can see where it’s going and join along.”

Bailey’s eyes didn’t leave the wheel. Didn’t even blink. “We see two different lessons. You see the benefit of submitting to fate. I see a different story. I see those blades go through their cycle. They go up, higher and higher. Then they get cold water thrown in their face and are knocked back down until they’re submerged. If they were smart, they’d stay down, but no, there they go climbing again, hoping that someday they’ll get to stay on top.”

George laid a work-roughened hand on Bailey’s shoulder. “Guess you can tell stories like your old man. Hopefully you’ll find some more happy endings. Are you still helping Reverend Stoker?”

“Yes, sir. It does me good to go visiting with him. Helps me remember my problems aren’t the only thing God’s got to worry about.”

George whistled and waved his boys over.

“Are you coming out to the house this weekend? Susannah and Ida sure miss you.”

“I miss them, too.” Their childish flattery would go a long way toward soothing his vanity. “Depends if the reverend needs any help.”

Bailey eyed his approaching brothers and saw that Samuel had broadened considerably during the few months he’d been away from home. He’d have to remember how stout he was before he picked a fight with the young man.

“How’s ranching going?”

Samuel brightened. “Weston said I can go on the trail with Willie and Rico this spring.”

“You can? That’s fine news. What about the sheep?”

“I’m handling the sheep.” Tuck’s chest puffed out. George snuck a wink at Bailey as the boy continued. “Yep, those woolly-headed beasts ain’t nothing but trouble.”

“That’s what I hear,” Bailey said.

“Did you hear about Mrs. Tillerton?” Tuck asked abruptly.

Samuel fell back a step and guffawed, until a stern look from his pa silenced him.

“We were going to call on her after the celebration at Bradford’s store, same night Lovelace was struck.”

“She’s dressing like a man,” Tuck jumped in, “wearing buckskin.”

Samuel’s eyes danced, waiting for his brother’s response.

Bailey had been the brunt of enough gossip lately. He didn’t rejoice to see someone else in hot water.

“Tuck, you weren’t even there,” his father admonished.

“Good thing or she might’ve shot me.”

“What?” Now Bailey was intrigued.

George shook his head. “There was a big to-do when we got there. Sheriff Colton had just found a man shot dead on her property—a new neighbor, it turns out. He didn’t arrest Mrs. Tillerton, but it’s no secret that he suspects she’s involved. One thing for certain, she’s a different breed. Wearing trousers, toting a gun—it’s no wonder the sheriff is keeping his eye on her.”

Anne Tillerton figured into one of the most harrowing days of his life. When Weston’s wife, Rosa, disappeared, Bailey tagged along as a lark, little suspecting the gruesome scene he’d find. Bailey had never seen a man shot to death before, and the fact that Mr. Tillerton had been plugged by his own wife made it even more appalling. Not that he blamed her. Even if her husband hadn’t attacked Rosa, he deserved shooting. Mrs. Tillerton’s battered face spoke testimony against him.

“I can’t imagine that she’d shoot someone again. I took her home that day, after that business with Mr. Tillerton. She was so shook up, so distant . . . but come to think of it, she might’ve been living like that for a while. You’d have to pretend you didn’t care to survive the pain.”

The compassion in his father’s eyes embarrassed him. His pa had recognized the similarities before he had. Surviving the pain? Barely. Hopefully no one else caught on to his hurt, because Bailey was having a hard time pretending not to care. And while he was hoping, he needed a decade to pass before Molly came home, for his indifference needed more practice if he was ever going to fool her.

15

C
HEYENNE
, W
YOMING
T
ERRITORY

To
Not
Do List:

• Do not shop without Edward again.
  
• Do not walk more than a half a mile in the winter—unless in Texas.
  
• Do not keep calculating how high our expenditures are.
  

Molly had wondered how far north the trains could go before the snow blocked their path. After watching a snowplow explode through the drifts, the power of three engines at its back, she wouldn’t be surprised to hear that the track was cleared all the way to Alaska. Nothing would stop them from going farther and farther from everything she knew. It was unbelievable that her one connection to her old life was the husband she’d met for the first time in November.