Chapter One
Cassius
Cassius Trenton held a losing hand of cards, and he doubted his charm would help extricate him from the situation.
The man across from him was of even more questionable character than his own, so he knew any failure to produce the funds he’d pledged would not work in his favor.
Cassius debated the merits of heeding the telegram that his landlady had handed him that morning.
Please come home. Archie’s disappeared and your family needs you.
He was certain his mother had sent it -not his father. If his father had sent it, there would have been no please attached to the request.
When his father had threatened to ruin Deirdre Flaherty's life and that of her family if he didn’t apply himself to the family legacy and put her aside, Cass had headed west. He knew he couldn’t be anywhere near her and not want her, so he’d taken his shredded heart and the bitter pill of the knowledge no one else would compare, and applied himself to the Colorado silver mines instead of his father’s plans for his life.
For the last seven years, he’d wandered aimlessly through the Rocky Mountains - pining for the woman he’d left behind.
He lost track of things - because she’d always been his compass.
He was losing track of things now-the cards he held, what his opponents had already laid on the table, because he was distracted by the telegram.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it - if he went home, would she still be there waiting?
Was she angry? Or had she found someone else? Or worse, died of a broken heart?
Archie was the obedient son and Cass had always been the rebel.
Even though Cass was the oldest, he preferred a fishing rod to a column of numbers.
Archie was the opposite- it’s why Cass hadn’t felt guilty about leaving.
Because Archie had been there to learn the family business and hold down the fort.
It had always been Archie who had their father’s ear. Archie with his level-headedness and fondness for books. Archie who was perfectly content to play peacemaker and smooth over the ripples of discontent between Cass and their father.
But now Archie had left too - and there was an undertone of desperation in his mother’s summons.
He laid his cards face down on the table. “I fold, gentlemen. I’ve been ordered home for the holidays.”
***
Cass had sold his horse, his tooled leather saddle and his pistols to meet the bets he’d placed. He’d settled with his landlady and purchased train fare home with what remained.
When he knocked on the door of his childhood home, he’d have little more than he left with. At least materially.
The green, heartbroken day dreamer he’d been was far behind him - lost in the dust and scuffle and grim reality of life beyond the Mississippi. Replaced by a man who’d grown accustomed to sleeping under the stars and acting like an opportunistic bastard in order to survive the world alone.
When the familiar outlines of the brick factory on the edge of town came into view, Cass’s whole body started vibrating in anticipation. He didn’t know if his father even knew his mother had sent the telegram - or if he’d receive a warm welcome.
As soon as the train came to a screeching stop, he grabbed his satchel and exited.
Everything was the same. The sounds - children laughing, the bell choir ringing away in a corner under the eaves collecting money for the poor, the muffled tears as families embraced each other on the platform.
The smells were the same too - the sharp, acrid burn of the steam engine, the rich, briny tang of boiled peanuts in a barrel just to the right of the busy station.
Cass slung his satchel across his back and pulled his hat over his ears.
He pulled his collar up too - because he wasn’t quite ready to be recognized.
He was much changed in appearance - broad and hard when he’d once been softer and yet more angular.
He’d barely sported a thin mustache then, and now wore a full beard.
But most of all, he was different on the inside.
A quarter of an hour later, he was knocking on the front door of the home he’d grown up in.
It swung open and a flurry of dark skirts surrounded him.
“You’re finally here,” Perry said as she drew back, one hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes full of tears.
His little sister had changed too. She was a woman grown - garbed in a summery blue with a cameo at her throat.
“I’ve been watching the train schedule like a hawk,” Dio said as he came to stand beside Perry, sliding an arm around her waist.
He’d gotten her letter - he’d known that his little sister had married his best friend. But seeing the truth of it now, when their entire childhood had been characterized by their mutual aggravation, was jarring.
He stepped forward and thumped his best friend’s upper arm. “I never imagined you’d be the one keeping her in line.”
Dio just gave Perry an adoring look and squeezed her side. “I wouldn’t trade places with anyone,” he said without taking his eyes off her.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” Cass teased.
Perry smiled softly and laid her head on her husband’s shoulder.
Cass cleared his throat and steeled himself for the answer to his next question. “Our mother’s telegram was cryptic. What has happened?”
“Father suffered another apoplexy and we don’t think he’s long for this world. Mother’s been keeping a bedside vigil.”
“Am I too late?”
Perry shook her head and placed a hand on his arm. “No, he’s still with us. Prepare yourself - he is much changed and has lost the ability to speak. You should go upstairs and make amends.”
“Is Archie already here?”
His sister’s troubled gaze met his. “He left for a field expedition nine months ago - to document the culture of the tribes near the Great Lakes. He’s somewhere near the border between Minnesota and Canada and we haven’t been able to reach him.”
Though they had their differences, Cass knew Archie would feel guilty if their father passed away without hearing his farewell.
“You’ve tried sending a telegram?”
Perry nodded vigorously. “To the receiving office in the location of his last letter.”
In his heart, Cass had known this homecoming wouldn’t be an easy one. He knew from Perry’s letters their father had dealt with a series of apoplexies over the past year. Dr. Hampton was in attendance quite frequently, and with each week that passed his father’s condition worsened.
Although he hadn’t known why his mother had summoned him, the telegram had been just the jolt he needed to make things right before it was too late.
“I’ll go up and see him now.”
Perry enveloped him in a swift hug. “He is much changed, Cass. Be patient.”
Cass braced himself as he trudged up the stairs.
The upper floor was quiet, but he heard the murmur of voices from his parents’ bedroom. When he swung open the door, his mother was settling into the rocking chair she’d used when they were children, a bundle of thread in her lap.
The slight form heaped beneath the blankets didn’t resemble the robust, strict man who’d raised him. And Cass stood there for a moment. Shocked, until his mother threw her arms around his midriff. “Oh, Cassius. Thank goodness you’re here. He’s been asking for you.”
There was a grunt from the bed, and when Cass peered over her shoulder, his father peered back at him. His perusal was as sharp and flinty as it had been before Cass left.
“Father,” Cass nodded in the direction of the mound of blankets. He felt chastised, even though he was a full grown adult. His father had always made him feel like he wasn’t quite up to scratch.
There was a garbled response and there was no chance of misinterpreting the glare that accompanied it.
“His speech isn’t what it was before the apoplexies. I’m the only one who seems to understand him,” his mother soothed as she awkwardly patted Cass’s hand.
“Can you interpret what he just said?”
“He said it’s about time you got here and grew up instead of gallivanting all over the country.”
Cass recoiled. “I haven’t been gallivanting,” he furiously insisted. “I’ve been making my way in the world and learning things I never would have been exposed to here.”
His father snorted, and Cass wondered exactly how much he knew about Cass’s gambling exploits.
When an imperious finger pointed at the slate perched on the bedside table, his mother scurried forward. With a frown of concentration his father took a piece of chalk in his left hand and painstakingly scratched out a message.
When his mother saw the message, her face blanched. But she dutifully flipped it in Cass’s direction.
There was one word scrawled there.
DISGRACE
The chalk strokes were bold and angry. All capital letters so the intent could not be mistaken.
Cass struggled to maintain his composure.
It had been seven years and he was still alive. No thanks to the man lying across from him. He knew when he left with little more than the clothes on his back he’d have to use his wits to survive.
“I’m not a disgrace,” he protested as he tried not to feel like he’d been hauled in front of the schoolmaster.
It had been a frequent occurrence in Cass’s youth because his mind wandered all the time.
He’d never known what page of the primer he should be on, and was thoroughly discombobulated by long division.
He’d learned to embrace the chaos of his thoughts - the West was made for them with its cacophony of noise. He’d become an expert brawler, a lucid gambler, and a devoted, if unlucky, miner. He’d found peace in the steep climes of the Rocky Mountains he’d never experienced here.
“Not a disgrace,” he repeated. “I came to make amends - but it’s clear that’s not what you want. You’re just as determined as you were before to mold me into something I’m not. Something I’ll never be.”
Cass ignored his mother’s protests and whirled on his heel. He made sure to slam the door behind him.
Perry and Dio were waiting at the foot of the stairs. Dio was frowning and Perry was wringing her hands.
“What happened?” She stalled him with a hand on his forearm.
“He’s just as judgmental as he was seven years ago. He sees me as nothing more than a recalcitrant schoolboy. I won’t stand for it.”
“You never told Archie and I why you left so suddenly.”
Cass laughed harshly. “He was trying to orchestrate my life. To make me nothing more than his little toddy. He presented me with an impossible choice and rather than suffer the consequences of it, I decided to make a new life for myself.”
“Did your choice have anything to do with Deirdre?” Perry’s question was tentative.
Cass grimaced. “Father didn’t approve of our relationship. He didn’t like the fact I was sweet on the Irish housekeeper’s daughter.”
“She’s a widow now.”
Dio’s remark caught Cass off guard. She’d moved on. Lain with someone else. Married someone else. He shrugged as if the information meant nothing to him. “We all must grow up. It’s the way of the world.”
“The two of you were inseparable once you stopped fighting.”
“We were. But Perry, you should know that first love is almost always just that. First love. It’s meant to be fleeting, not forever.”
Dio slipped his arm around her waist and hauled her close. “What if you’re just being stubborn? What if you can begin again?”
Cass shook his head. “It’s too late for us. But I’m glad it wasn’t too late for the two of you.”
“You should come over for supper and meet your nieces and nephews.”
“I don’t suppose you have a spare room?” Cass asked hopefully.
Perry laughed in disbelief. “Our brood of unruly children is swiftly outgrowing the space we have.”
“Whether or not you want to begin anew, your former sweetheart opened a boarding house about six months ago. It’s the only one in town.”
“Stop attempting to be sly, Dio. I see straight through it. I’d rather suffer here than explain my disappearance to her.”
“It was a long time ago, brother. Perhaps she’s forgiven you.”
Deirdre Flaherty had never been one to forget a grudge. And he’d left her without a word. He hadn’t written, or set foot in Willow Creek, in seven years. If she saw him in the street she’d probably spit on him or land a facer that sent him reeling.
“It’s very possible I broke her heart - and they say there’s no fury like that of a woman scorned. It’s in my best interest to avoid her instead of seeking her out.”
Perry shrugged. “She’s a mother now, and likely has more important things on her mind. Having children softens your edges.”
“It certainly does,” Dio murmured nearly inaudibly as he brushed a hand up her side.
Her mouth quirked. “What I’m trying to say, Cass, is that it might not be the dreadful reunion you think it will be. And if you and father still haven’t mended your fences, it might be a good idea to put some distance between you for the time being.”
Cass’s brow lowered and he set his jaw at a mulish angle. “I’ll not let him chase me away.”
“He wouldn’t be chasing you away. You’d be making the decision to find some measure of peace.”
“I’ll think about it,” he gruffly acquiesced.
“If your first encounter upset you to such an alarming degree, you should take a stroll.”
“Perhaps after I unpack my bags.”
He could feel their eyes on him as he strode toward the opposite wing of the house.
***
His childhood bedroom was just as he’d left it. Right down to the dog-eared copy of Tom Sawyer on the bedside table.
He’d escaped to those pages when his father had raged at his inattention and dismal marks. He’d imagined sailing the Mississippi on a flat bottomed boat, with nothing but a knapsack full of apples and dreams.
There was another book beneath Tom Sawyer.
When he picked it up he saw it was a collection of Shakespeare’s plays. When he flipped it open, the ribbon marked Gaius Cassius’s attempt to persuade Brutus to join his cause. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
Cassius had no doubt the book had been purposefully left there.
He threw it toward the mirror that hung above the washstand. The glass shattered, flying in all directions.
He flinched when he felt a stray fragment slice his cheek.
The blood soon soaked the handkerchief he pulled from his pocket and he knew he’d need stitches.
Now the stroll was unavoidable. He pulled his hat over his ears and held the bloody rag to his cheek.
The doctor’s office was only two blocks away - he’d drop in and ask for help.