Chapter 17 #2
“All right. Why don’t you tell him and Rob tomorrow after your Bible study. Even tell them the truth about the marriage, and we can speak more about getting married in the church at the picnic.”
Spencer looked up at her, longing to have Carrie back in his arms. He knew without her saying it that she would want to wait to consummate their marriage. He knew it would be important to both of them, but it was hard to know she was right there and he couldn’t be with her.
“I’m going to my room.” She pulled the blanket around her as if suddenly shy of this very intimate situation.
Spencer nodded. “I understand.” He watched her go and let out a long, heavy breath. Maybe they could get married on Sunday. Or even tomorrow. One thing was certain. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.
Eugene waited until the dizzy spell abated before trying once more to make coffee. He hadn’t been able to sleep much. Either the pain woke him up or his own fears of what was yet to come refused to let him rest.
He’d never been a religious man, but he had attended church in Cheyenne as was expected of decent folks.
He’d picked the Catholic church, where Father Nugent offered three different services.
Eugene’s mother had been Catholic and had raised her three sons that way, while their father had cared very little for religion.
It was an attitude Eugene actually shared, but Cheyenne was not so large a town that he could ignore religion altogether.
Decent folks expected that you would go to church on Sunday.
Even his colleagues at the Union Pacific had been given over to discussing Sunday church attendance.
Quickly after his arrival, Eugene had seen the need to comply, and after all, it didn’t require that much on his part.
An hour or two of inconvenience on Sunday.
Occasional visitation to the confessional and faithful giving of his tithes.
All to maintain the appearance of being a godly man of integrity.
He put the coffee on and made his way back to the table.
Eugene always went to the most popular service in order to blend into the crowd.
In fact, blending in to the church and his community had been a practiced routine.
In twenty years, he’d made few friends, and none of them were at all close.
He had acted the part with the neighbor on his right, mainly because the man worked in the UP offices just down the hall.
They sometimes took the trolley to work together.
Other times they discussed the weather and town affairs while standing at their property line.
But Eugene had made himself scarce in all other settings.
He didn’t speak regularly to anyone or keep company with any special lady.
In his younger days, he hadn’t been opposed to slipping off to the less favorable side of town to enjoy the various evils offered there.
The Cheyenne city fathers were even now anxious to find a way to eliminate most all of the questionable activities that the notorious west side had to offer.
The problem was that Fort Russell soldiers were some of the town’s biggest spenders, and the city fathers also wanted to keep them happy.
Allowing for a variety of vices was good business.
Eugene knew that as long as there were men with money to spend, there would be allowances for all sorts of evil.
Still, as he sat staring at his kitchen stove, Eugene wondered about the days to come.
What would happen to him when he was bedfast?
There was no one to see to him, except Dr. Duval.
She had come to check on him daily, as promised.
In fact, she was due to see him that morning.
But sooner or later he would need constant care, and she couldn’t offer him that.
Worse still, when he died, no one would even care about his passing, except for Carrie Duval—the wife of his enemy.
Eugene shook his head. Spencer Duval wasn’t an enemy.
He no doubt wanted justice for his father’s murder.
Perhaps that was even why he’d become a lawman.
How could Eugene fault him for that? A thought came to mind.
Cheyenne had a decent jail. What if he turned himself in?
Someone would definitely have to see to his needs day and night.
He didn’t have that much time left, so he doubted seriously that he’d get as far as being hanged for his crimes.
“And even if I did,” mused Eugene, “wouldn’t a quick death be better than the one I’m dying?”
The thought intrigued him. In jail, he could have care and a doctor to look in on him. It could even be the lovely Dr. Duval. Her father was chief of police and would no doubt allow for her to continue as his physician.
Going to jail could be the answer to all of his problems. Of course, there was always the possibility that Spencer Duval would rather shoot it out with Eugene. That would be an even quicker death.
“I could leave him with the sense of avenging his father.”
But even at this thought, Eugene knew that wasn’t the answer. He had been made to live with his killing, and the memories haunted him even now, twenty-five years after the fact.
A knock sounded on the front door, and Eugene got to his feet. He fought back the momentary blurring of his vision and made his way to admit Dr. Duval.
But to his surprise, he opened the door to find his neighbor’s wife, Mrs. Cranston.
“Hello, deary. I meant to bring this over to you last night,” she said, extending an envelope. “I picked up our mail yesterday, and it was slipped in by mistake.”
Eugene took the letter. “Thank you. That was kind.”
“Brought you this as well.” She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a wrapped bundle. “It’s some of my apple cinnamon cake. My old man loves it with his coffee in the mornin’. I thought you might as well.”
“That is a welcome sight. Thank you, Mrs. Cranston.”
Eugene took the offering and gave her a nod as she turned to go. There was no lost conversation about the weather or the state of affairs in the world. She was a woman who kept things together most of the time, and Eugene appreciated it greatly, as well as her occasional treats.
He took the letter and cake back to the kitchen table and sat down. The cake was still warm, and he quickly unwrapped it and began eating, even though the coffee wasn’t ready.
The letter intrigued him. It was from his old friend Simon Dade in Nashville.
The Dades had been longtime family friends from Philadelphia who moved to Nashville shortly after the war.
When it became clear Eugene would have to go on the run, Simon had been one of the men he’d entrusted to send letters to his mother.
He opened the envelope and unfolded the brief missive.
The news brought instantaneous regret. His mother had passed away. She had died the previous December. Simon offered his condolences but little more.
Eugene dropped the letter to the table. He had known his mother was bound to die sometime soon.
She was, after all, in her eighties. He supposed her still being alive had been a burden on his heart.
He had arranged to leave her his money, but he had hated knowing she would be alone in the world. Now he was the one completely alone.
A knock sounded again at the door. This time Eugene greeted Dr. Duval. “How are you today, my dear doctor?”
She smiled and followed him into the house. “I’m doing very well. The skies are cloudy and the winds a bit cold, but the morning is nevertheless invigorating. I hummed a tune on my trolley ride here.”
Despite his sorrow, Eugene grinned. “You sound like a woman in love.”
To his surprise she sobered. “You know what?” She paused at asking this and nodded. “I am. I’m very much in love.”
Eugene laughed despite the pain it brought. “Well, I would hope so, otherwise your husband would be very dismayed.” A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by immediate nausea. He grabbed the back of the chair.
Dr. Duval was immediately at his side. “You need to sit.”
That was all he heard as he sank to the floor, his consciousness fading fast.