Chapter 36 #2
“Randolph Thorson is in charge. I’m working alongside him.” Ben wiped his palms on his trousers.
“You’ll be at the helm.” His father sipped the water offered by Mother. “When I’m better. We’ll work out…a plan.”
“When you’re better, we’ll talk.” Ben exhaled.
Mother shot him a frown.
“I’m going to check on Evelyn. She’s in the kitchen attempting to bake cookies. Baking is not her forte.” Ben turned toward the door. Best get out of the room and join his sister before his father insisted on promises.
“What of Olivia?” His father’s voice rasped. “You’ve seen her? Apologized?”
Ben stiffened. “I sent her a note. Last week, I called at her house, as you asked, but wasn’t admitted. No apology will make up for a broken courtship.”
“Broken betrothal.” His father aimed a finger at Ben. “Only one way to fix it.” His father coughed. “Keep your word to her. Marry her. You’ve got to—”
“James, we need to talk about this another day.” Mother patted the sick man’s shoulder while shooting daggers at her son. “You’ve got to give Ben time.”
“Too much time already. Never should have gone to Texas.” His father waved her hand away.
“Edmondson’s throwing his weight to Thorson.
Not going to stand for the jilting of his daughter.
” He sucked in, struggling for breath. “Only way to gain…control of the paper…is for Ben…to do his duty.” A powerful cough propelled him forward.
Ben hurried to his father’s side and helped support him.
Mother placed a firm hand on her husband’s back, then waved Ben away. “You’ll only aggravate him. Go find your sister.”
Ben stuck his hands in his pockets and tromped out of the room. Better to be single the rest of his life than marry a woman he didn’t love.
And since every thought of the woman he did love felt like scraping an open wound, bachelorhood loomed large on the horizon.
Cora thanked Mr. Miller for the letter and exited the mercantile.
Thankfully, the man waited to give it to her until Charlie headed for the wagon with an armload of supplies.
She rubbed her finger over the script, Ben’s writing, addressed from Pennsylvania.
She’d best read the contents before showing them to Charlie.
It’d been almost seven weeks since Ben’s departure.
Felt more like a year. She stuffed the letter in her skirt pocket and slowed her step as she passed the clothiers.
Arthur LeBeau strolled toward her, his face covered in a thin beard instead of his usual goatee.
Maybe he was trying to look more rugged.
Her chest tightened. Their gazes met, no smile. She dropped hers to her feet and walked on. If only he would pass without a word. But two shiny boot toes crossed into her path. With a slow inhale, she halted and looked up into ice blue.
“Good day, Miss Scott.” He tipped his top hat. “I hear Mr. McKenzie headed back east.”
“His father fell seriously ill. Mr. McKenzie had to leave immediately.”
The corners of his lips tugged upward. “Is that so?”
She squeezed the knuckles of her clasped hands and waited for a farmer’s wife to pass. “That is so. Do you need to see a copy of the telegram?” My goodness. To her shame, she almost sounded like him. “Not that it’s any of your concern.” She gritted out her response barely above a whisper.
There might as well be a limelight shining on them given the way heads turned from even across the street. She had no intention of providing the town with entertainment.
“I take it that you didn’t appreciate my note from the druggist.” Arthur’s voice sharpened. “If I have to suffer the loss of your friendship and affection, or even the temporary loss of some of my patients for saving you from a terrible mistake, so be it.”
“If you’ve suffered the loss of clients, it’s probably due to you disrespecting one of yours and announcing his diagnosis in the street.” She bristled. “Good day, sir.” She moved to the side and quickstepped toward Charlie, who hurried toward them with a scowl.
Arthur called out behind her. “If you need me to take the cast off—”
“I already cut it off myself.” She lifted her chin and marched on.
In the privacy of her bedroom that evening, she opened Ben’s letter dated August twenty-third.
She scanned the paragraph about his family.
His father’s recovery was slow, but the doctor believed him to be out of danger.
Thank God. However, it might take months for him to regain his full strength.
Months that Ben would have to be there. He would send her funds from his first month’s wages.
Of course, due to his generous nature and determination to keep his word to Jeb, he’d send her more than necessary. Cut himself short. Of that she was certain.. He’d be faithful to his commitment to her and Charlie, despite her obstinacy.
He wrote two paragraphs about his work, polishing others’ writings, deciding what was news and what wasn’t, shaping the finished product that would roll off the presses. A role of influence. Excitement rang in his words.
His love for his work echoed between the lines. Realization twinged through her. She’d almost kept him from that. Her belly felt like lead. How could she have ever thought he’d be satisfied with ranching?
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the final words of his inquiries about her and Charlie and how he missed them. He sent his love to Charlie. What about her? Or did he reserve those words for people who trusted him?
Her eyes halted on the final lines. I continue to abstain from the medicine, as I have done since last March. And by God’s grace and strength, I pray that I may continue to do so.
“Yes, Lord, yes. Let it be so,” she spoke aloud as she closed her eyes and clasped her hands.
Her gaze lingered on the salutation. Yours, Ben. Her foolish heart hitched. Yours. A grain of hope, despite everything. P.S. Did you read my journal?
She slipped her hand under the pillow and pulled out the yellow-paged notebook…