Chapter 2
Dirk
Whiskey River, Wyoming
“Here you go, Wyatt!” Dirk Price handed Wyatt Nash the reins of his horse, Midnight. Dirk kept the horse at his livery stable for him while he managed the local saloon. “I hope the weather holds out long enough for you to get home.”
“Thanks, Dirk.” Wyatt took the reins and led his horse out of the barn and into the snow that was blowing around like bits of cotton, creating a blanket of white along the ground. “Don’t stay too late, now.”
Dirk chuckled appreciatively. “I’m leaving soon. There’s only a few more horses left.” As the owner of the only livery stable in town, Dirk always felt obligated to stay until the last horse was picked up for the night, when he was in town. He had hired a young man, Billy Griffin, to run it for him when he wasn’t there. Billy was only seventeen and eager to prove himself. But tonight, he had given Billy the night off, not wanting to leave him here in a blizzard. Dirk also owned a ranch, which consumed most of his time, and he couldn’t be caught away from it for an extended period of time.
Wyatt nodded as he mounted his horse, holding perfectly still. Sometimes Dirk wondered what the horse would say if he could talk. His eyes seemed so intelligent, and it was obvious that he loved Wyatt.
“Thanks, again. How much do I owe you?”
Dirk pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck, looking up at Wyatt, silhouetted against the falling snow. “We’ll settle up Friday, like always.”
Wyatt smiled. “Sounds good. Well, I’d better get home to the missus.”
Dirk chuckled and watched as Wyatt rode away. It was good to hear Wyatt refer to Madison as his “missus.” After the trouble Madison had with Pete McGregor, Dirk hadn’t been sure she would ever find peace. But when Wyatt came into town, everything changed.
It was common knowledge that Wyatt had been a gambler before coming to Whiskey River. Now, he owned the saloon, gave up gambling, and married Madison. Dirk had asked him about it once, and Wyatt had shrugged and told him that meeting the right woman had changed his life.
Dirk imagined that meeting the right person could put a man’s life back on track, but his had been derailed for so long it was a lost cause. After all, he had met all the women in Whiskey River—and many in Laramie, too—and none had caught his eye. He hadn’t fallen in love in a long time.
For a fleeting moment, Dirk wondered if that would ever happen to him—see the woman of his dreams and fall instantly in love. He chuckled at the thought as he ran his fingers through his light brown wavy hair.
When evening fell and the last few men had picked up their horses, Dirk battened down the hatches. This storm was sure to be a howler.
In Wyoming, there were a lot of snowstorms. In fact, the landscape had turned into a blanket of white every year. But although it was beautiful to look at, it was unbearably cold, and Dirk sure didn’t want to get caught out in it.
Before going home, Dirk went to the hotel for dinner. The Whiskey River Hotel had the only restaurant in town. Since his wife had left him a few years ago, Dirk ate almost every meal there. After all, who was there to cook for? And since Sarah had left, no one but his dog, Buster, was there to greet him when he came home. It was just him, Buster, the cattle and horses, and his sprawling ranch.
Dirk pulled his hat down low, and his coat up around his neck. In winter, he grew his hair out a bit, letting his light brown waves cover his neck to shield him from the wind and snow blowing fiercely around. It did little to help.
A moment later, his boots thudded loudly against the wooden walkway as he headed toward the Whiskey River Hotel and Restaurant to the right just down from his livery stable. The covered footpaths on the right and left of the main street were the only things not already blanketed in snow. The bell on the door rang loudly as Dirk stepped into the restaurant.
“Well, well!” Millie Martin announced as he walked in. “I didn’t think you’d make it in tonight!”
Dirk shrugged as he brushed the snow off his coat and wiped his boots on the rug, not wanting to track mud into the restaurant. “Yeah… well… I didn’t feel like cooking.”
Millie picked up a menu and headed over to a table, expecting him to follow, then laid it down. “Don’t worry,” she cooed, patting his shoulder. “We’ll fix you right up. But you might want to think about staying in the hotel tonight.” She looked outside at the bleak exterior and sighed. “It looks like it’s already getting bad out there.”
Dirk shook his head. “No, I can’t. I have to feed the livestock and check on the ranch. Besides, Buster would miss me.” He began looking at the menu, even though he practically had it memorized.
Millie chuckled. “I’m sure the cattle—and Buster—can last one night without you.”
Dirk laid the menu down on the table. “No, but thank you. I’ll just have something quick, and I’ll be on my way.”
Millie nodded. “What can I get for you?”
Dirk and Millie had been friends for a long time, but there had never been anything more between them. Millie flirted but didn’t mean anything by it. He knew that she was just a friendly person. Dirk suspected that it was just her way.
“Does Paul have any of his fried chicken left?” he asked, handing her back the menu.
Paul Garrett was the cook at the restaurant. Even though he was getting up in age, his cooking skills were second to none.
Millie smiled as she gave Dirk a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I think so. Want some mashed potatoes and creamed corn to go along with it?”
Dirk nodded. “Yes, and some of his homemade bread, too.”
“You got it, sugar,” Millie chirped, and gave him a wink as she walked away.
There were more men than women in Whiskey River, and since Sarah had left, no one in town had caught his eye. He had moved there with Sarah a few years ago, in search of adventure on the new frontier. When they had arrived, Dirk knew it was his home. The sprawling land at the base of beautiful white-capped mountains had been everything he had been looking for. But he suspected that way of life had been too hard for Sarah. She quickly became disenchanted and ended up leaving in the middle of the night, leaving all her clothes hanging in the closet. She just left a note that said she didn’t like Whiskey River and was moving back East. It broke his heart, and in many ways, he still hadn’t gotten over it.
For so long, Dirk had refused to give up hope that she would miss him, decide that she had made a mistake, and would come back to him. But after a while when she didn’t return, he knew she was gone. Sarah wasn’t coming back, and he had to let her go. So, he had relented, went to Laramie to see a lawyer, and had filed for divorce, on the off chance that he would ever meet someone else. Although he knew it was impossible that he would ever find someone to love as much as he had loved Sarah, he knew he had to let her go. But filing for divorce was so final. When the judge had ruled in his favor and slammed the gavel down, it resonated in his skull. And Dirk knew it was really over. He was now free to go on with his life, whether he wanted to or not.
“Here you go!” Millie placed a wooden board containing half a loaf of fresh bread on the table, along with his usual coffee. In the summer, he opted for lemonade, but in the winter, it was always coffee.
Dirk smiled. “Millie, you know me well.”
She shrugged as she gave him a warm smile. “You come here nearly every night. What do you expect?”
Dirk laughed. “Yeah. I guess.”
Millie gave him another gentle pat on the shoulder. “Your meal’ll be out in just a bit.”
Dirk nodded, a smile curling his lips. “Thanks, Millie.”
Since Sarah left, the townsfolk of Whiskey River had become his family. Every now and then, he wondered what had become of Sarah. Perhaps she went back East, as she had said in her note, and made a life for herself. He brushed the thought aside. Wherever she was, Dirk hoped that she had found happiness. After all, who could blame her? She had been a city girl not cut out for country life.
“Here you go, sugar.” Millie set a plate filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn on the table.
Dirk’s stomach growled as he inhaled the fresh aroma. “Thanks, Millie. Smells delicious.”
She smiled. “I’ll let Paul know.”
“Please do.” Dirk picked up a chicken leg, ready to dig in.
“If you need anything, just yell.” Millie walked away to help a couple who had just walked in—the only other customers in the entire restaurant. Dirk suspected that no one would be venturing out on a night like this if they didn’t have to.
Juices filled his mouth as he bit into the chicken leg, moaning as he savored the flavor.
Moments like those were when Dirk missed Sarah the most. She had been a good cook. In fact, she could have been a pastry chef at some exclusive restaurant in New York, if she had wanted to. But she wanted no part of it. She had appeared to be perfectly happy with Dirk, wanting nothing more than to be his wife… until they came to Whiskey River.
Dirk had finally found a home in Whiskey River and had hoped that Sarah would come to love it as much as he had. But it seemed that wasn’t meant to be.
Dirk really had no desire to marry again. But he couldn’t help but wonder if any woman he married would become disappointed with him and eventually leave, just as Sarah had.
He quickly pushed the thought aside as he took a sip of his coffee, knowing he’d never find anyone like Sarah.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Millie leaned on his table, her eyebrows raised.
Dirk shook his head. “It was nothing, really.”
“Well,” Millie cooed, “cheer up! Thanksgiving’s around the corner, after all.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Millie rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. “Ah, come now. It can’t be that bad. Do you have any plans for the holiday? Like going back East to visit your family?”
He shook his head. “No, there’s no one there anymore. What about you, Millie? Have any plans?” he asked in an effort to shift the focus from himself.
She shook her head. “No. I told Mr. Curry I would work so he wouldn’t have to close the restaurant during the holidays. So, if you aren’t doing anything, come on by. I think Paul’s planning something special for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Dirk gave her a small smile. “I’ll think about it.” He dabbed at his lips and placed his napkin on his plate. “That was delicious.”
“Glad you liked it.” Millie gave him a warm smile, taking his plate. “I’ll be right back with more coffee.” Then she stopped a few feet away and turned back to face him. “Want some pie? Paul made some with the last of the apples from the season.”
“No, thanks.” He let out a deep breath. “I should really be getting home.”
She nodded and then headed toward the back.
Dirk watched her walk away. Millie was kind at heart, a good soul, motherly. He wondered why she had never found anyone special yet. After all, she took good care of the people in Whiskey River and would make a good wife and mother one day. But he suspected that she had come to think of the townsfolk of Whisky River as her family, just as he had, and was satisfied with that.
After he finished his last cup of coffee, he paid the bill and left a generous tip.
“Be careful out there, Dirk,” Millie called out, watching as he slipped into his coat and hat. “It’s getting bad.”
“Yes, it’s worse than usual this time of year. I have a feeling we’re in for a bad one.” He gave her a smile. “Thanks, Millie, but I’ll be fine. Have a good night and don’t stay too late.”
Millie laughed. “My room is just upstairs, so I don’t have far to go.”
“Night.”
Wind and snow rushed into the room as he opened the door. He stepped outside and quickly shut it behind him. The only light came from the general store and the saloon across the street, the candlelight casting a gentle, golden glow upon the beautiful snow.
Dirk made his way back to the stable and hooked up April, his sorrel mare, to his buckboard. She was a good horse, gentle, but spirited, and loved to run when he let her. He would have just saddled her up, but he wasn’t about to leave the horses for sale here to fend for themselves. If this storm was as bad as he thought it was going to be, hard telling when he’d be back to check on them. But Billy could handle any other horses that came in.
Dirk tied the horses to the back of the buckboard and within minutes, he was headed home as the blinding snow and cold whipped around him.
Thanksgiving.
He hadn’t even had time to think of it. In fact, he usually didn’t even bother to celebrate the holidays, or even take off from work on Sundays.
As for Christmas, he set up a tree each year for something to do, and every Christmas Eve, he read the passage of Jesus’s birth from the Bible. Then, on Christmas Day he went to church, but that was just about it. There was just too much work to do, and not enough time to do it.
Dirk wasn’t opposed to Christmas. He just had no one to celebrate it with.
But Dirk knew he had a lot to be thankful for in his life. Over the last few years, he had made a good living between the livery stable and the ranch. Although he liked all horses, including quarter horses, his heart was in raising thoroughbreds. He had a few men who helped with the ranch, and another who helped at the livery stable. But the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, he gave everyone time off with pay to visit their families since it was slow that time of year. Most of the men were single young ranch hands who lived in a bunkhouse on his property, if they chose. Before they left, they had helped him to catch up on everything around the ranch, so he could handle it easily while they were gone. Also, he had hired Billy to help at the livery stables, and Kyle to help at the ranch. They were both in their teens—nearly adults—and eager to start making lives of their own.
The snow came down in sheets, blowing hard against his coat as darkness encroached upon the earth. Relief filled his heart when Dirk finally saw the edge of the familiar field that he knew stretched out before his ranch. Although the snow was blowing so hard that he couldn’t see it, he followed the tree line and knew he would be home soon, and that his dog, Buster, would be waiting for him. He pitied anyone caught out on such a night. Even though he didn’t have anyone to share the holidays with, he had a lot to be thankful for. A warm house. Food in his stomach. Any more than that was too much to ask.