Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Six Weeks Later
The newspapers were making a mess of everything, as far as Caleb was concerned.
For weeks, every rag from St. Louis to Santa Fe had been touting the eclipse like it was the Second Coming. In fact, more than a few traveling preachers were doing just that, proclaiming at the top of their lungs with all the fire and brimstone they could muster, that the end was near.
Denver’s Rocky Mountain News was the worst, promoting the exact time and date of the eclipse, and crowing that the phenomenon would not be visible in its totality in any other established state except for Colorado.
And the judge was doing his damnedest to draw people to Elkhorn, where they could “view the once-in-a-lifetime spectacle in absolute safety and comfort.”
No one seemed to recall that it often rained in the summer.
Apparently, word had spread to the rest of the country. According to a bunch of eggheads at some university back East, this would be the first time in history that an eclipse would be observed at such a high altitude. Caleb couldn’t help but wonder how the Arapaho and the Cheyenne felt about that.
In any case, Congress saw an opportunity to appropriate thousands of dollars to fund official observations in Colorado. Now, with the money carefully funneled into a few deep pockets, everything was set.
Judge Patterson was banking that the celebration would be the making of him.
He figured that a successful eclipse would heap fame and fortune on him and further his political aspirations.
Newsmen with their pads of paper and those big boxes with legs for taking photographs would be on hand to record the blessed event, and politicians from the nation’s capital were expected to be in attendance.
The hotels and businesses in Elkhorn waited with bated breath, however. Despite all the planning and hoopla, no one really knew if people would actually come.
Caleb ignored the whole business. After the bodies of Starr’s men were carted away, he went about fixing up the damage to his ranch.
And aside from his everyday chores, he had construction projects that needed his attention.
He wanted to be ready for the herd of young steers that were being driven up from down south to add to his cattle.
Elijah Starr’s trial was put off until after the eclipse.
From what Zeke told him, the prisoner was unwilling to confess to anything that would implicate his employer.
And not a word had been whispered about his relationship with Caleb.
He just sat in his cell, unpleasant when he wasn’t morose.
Starr was apparently willing to accept his fate and hang for his crimes.
Caleb didn’t waste any time thinking about him.
His father was dead to him. And that was going to be his answer if anyone, at any time, tried to push the past into his face.
News of the gunfight and Starr’s arrest had traveled, though. Eric Goulden’s plans suddenly changed. He couldn’t come to Elkhorn for the eclipse, after all. In fact, his plans for putting a railroad through the region were on hold…indefinitely.
The eclipse was to take place on Monday, the 29th of July, and to everyone’s collective relief, something glorious happened. A week before the sun was scheduled to disappear, a thousand prayers were answered.
Folks started arriving.
Stagecoaches. Riders. Wagons. People poured in every day, and Elkhorn filled up worse than before.
As soon as the hotels and inns were jammed to capacity, enterprising local citizens began taking in borders, even housing enthusiastic sun-watchers in their barns.
Zeke told Caleb that the saloon keepers were putting together card tables for use as rentable sleeping accommodations.
Elkhorn wasn’t the only place cashing in on the boon.
The newspapers reported that wealthy residents from all over the country were visiting some new “resort hotels” at some place called Colorado Springs and bringing plenty of cash to spend.
All kinds of high-spirited mischief was going on, apparently, including the importation of musical orchestras to entertain the masses.
Judge Patterson, not to be outdone, was hosting an outdoor event in Elkhorn’s Main Street. It was to take place on Sunday afternoon—to the chagrin of the local religious set—the day before the eclipse. He’d sent a personal invitation for Caleb to attend and had received a one-word answer. No.
Hours of political speechifying, followed by a reception where he’d have to mingle with strangers, just wasn’t all that appealing. Zeke riding out and begging him to come was a waste of the burly little sheriff’s time. He wasn’t going.
Somehow, the judge must have gotten to Doc Burnett too. One night two weeks ago, while they were playing chess on his friend’s porch, Doc slyly brought it up. Caleb told him the same thing. No.
There was a reason why he’d settled outside of Elkhorn. He wanted no part of this madness.
With the celebrations only a few days off, Caleb thought he was safe. He wasn’t. Gabe and Paddy showed up with a letter from Sheila.
This was the first he’d heard directly from her since the shooting at his ranch. Even the night of playing chess with Doc, he was told she’d gone to bed early. Caleb figured she had some thinking to do. So did he.
Six weeks was a long time, though.
Long enough for the bruises on her face to fade. Long enough for the excitement and terror of that day to settle into memory. Long enough for him to convince himself she was better off keeping her distance from a man like him.
He understood that what she’d witnessed at the ranch could not easily be forgotten. She had seen firsthand what he came from. The hatred. The violence. The scars he carried inside.
But that day, she had still looked at him as if he were worth saving. That troubled him more than anything.
She liked him. He knew that. And he cared for her more than he would ever put into words.
But they were two different people. She belonged in a brighter world than the one he carried around inside him.
He needed to keep his head screwed on tight and not let it go wandering off after things he could never have.
Then, Gabe and Paddy brought the letter from her.
In it, she asked if he would kindly accompany her to a shooting competition taking place on the same Sunday afternoon. She was competing.
The answer was written in his head before he finished reading the letter.
He sent a note back with the boys. He’d be there.
Truth be told, he could have saved himself the trouble and simply written one word. Yes.
For six weeks, they hadn’t seen each other, but he’d been hearing news of her from Gabe and Paddy and Doc and Zeke and everyone else he ran into in Elkhorn. Everyone just assumed he’d be interested in knowing what she was up to. Not that he would admit it to any damn one of them, but he was.
Every story. Every scrap of news. Every mention of her name. And now, after six long weeks, he was finally going to see her again.
The stories he’d been hearing all ran about the same.
Sheila seemed unable to say no to requests for help on the various civic projects taking place, and there were plenty of them in Elkhorn because of the big event.
He was glad she was staying busy, glad she was finding a place among the townspeople.
Doc mentioned that she’d also been taking shooting lessons from Zeke. Caleb was amused, but he pretended to be mildly insulted that she hadn’t asked him.
So on that Sunday afternoon, Caleb rode along Main Street, trying not to growl at the hundreds of people packing the thoroughfare.
A brass band was tuning up in front of a new hotel.
He shook his head in disbelief at the folks who were already positioning themselves on their rented chairs along the wooden sidewalks, staring at the sky.
“There’s a whole damn day left,” he muttered, nudging Pirate along.
At least, the fine weather was holding.
At the bustling livery stable, he exchanged a quick hello with Malachi and the boys before walking over to the Burnett house.
Looking back up Main Street, he could see ropes with colorful ribbons were being strung across the road in front of Patterson’s courthouse and office building for the reception.
He wasn’t sorry to be missing that foolishness.
The sight on the porch that greeted him as he approached the house was the prettiest thing he’d seen in a while.
Miss Sheila Burnett was dressed in one of what he’d come to call her “New York finery.”
When she spotted him, she immediately stood up.
The long-waisted, cream-colored dress fit her form like a glove, and he couldn’t avoid noticing the many attributes of her womanly figure.
The attraction of the wide-brimmed hat and the fancy hair was lost on him, however.
In the little time they’d known each other, he’d become quite fond of the wayward curls and the long thick braid of golden-brown hair.
Her blue eyes put even the azure sky above to shame.
He pushed aside such poetic notions. What mattered most was that she looked healthy and happy. There was none of the confusion and fear he’d seen in her face with all those dead bodies lying around on his ranch.
And there was an uncharacteristic shyness in her look and the way she came down the stairs to greet him.
“Thank goodness you’re here, Marlowe. We have to go.”
There were things that he thought should be said before they went anywhere. “I reckon I have some explaining to do.”
“About what?”
“About what you heard between me and Elijah Starr.”
She gazed down at the tips of her shoes for a few seconds before looking up. “No, you don’t.”
“Sheila—”
“Caleb.”
The way she said his given name stopped him.
For six weeks he'd been carrying around things he ought to explain. Things he ought to confess. The truth about his father. About his past. About the darkness he'd spent years dragging behind him.