December Love, Page 3

  Lily stood behind the high counter in back scribbling on a tablet. She stuffed it in her apron pocket and looked up with a bright smile. Probably heard Mabel’s annoyance with Doc Brown and the sharp rap of her shoes against the wooden floor.

  Will couldn’t blame his sister. The doc still held to his first diagnosis of a bad heart. Will shrugged. He was going to die. Might as well get used to the idea.

  “How are you, Mrs. Harris, Mr. Logan?” Lily’s eyes sparkled. Looked like marriage agreed with her.

  “I’m fine, but if that quack down the street knows anything, Mr. Logan should be layin’ on his deathbed.” Mabel, as usual, spoke what she thought.

  “Oh, I hope not!” Lily’s eyes grew round as she turned toward Will. “You look well.”

  Mabel grunted. “What he needs is a real doctor.”

  “Like Dr. Brennon in Chicago.” Lily looked to Mabel as if she would be the one making the decision. “When any of the girls needed a doctor, he’s the one the orphanage always called. Mrs. Foster said he was the best. I know she’d agree he could help.”

  Chicago? “Hold it one minute!” He raised his voice a mite more than he meant to but didn’t back down. “I’m not running after her. I’ll not go to Chicago.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” The confusion in Lily’s eyes almost broke through the barrier he’d thrown up at the mention of Chicago and Florence. “I just meant—”

  “Lily’s right. You need to see another doctor, Will, but not in Chicago. It’s time for me to see about Oswald. He’s been asking when I’m coming. This last letter seemed insistent. You can go with me, and we’ll stop in to see Dr. McCowan. I’ve trusted him for years and guarantee he’ll figure out what the problem is.” Mabel stepped away. “I’ll let you two visit while I pick up a few things.”

  Will shook his head as she walked away. “She’s been bossing me around since I was born. I guess that’s what older sisters do.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Lily stared at her hands. “I never had a sister—older or younger.”

  “You know Florence loves you, don’t you?” He tried to soften his voice although Mabel was the only other one in the store.

  Lily interlaced her fingers on the counter. Her momentary silence spoke volumes of doubt. “She gave me up as a baby, and now she’s moved away. That’s an odd way to show love, don’t you think?”

  Will brought Florence’s image to mind and again saw the hurt in her eyes when he couldn’t give her a reason for staying in Texas. She was hurt by Lily for sure. Maybe even over him, but she didn’t know how he felt any more than Lily understood her. He took a deep breath. “We can’t always see what’s going on with someone else. We don’t know all the opposition they face that keeps them from doing what they want. Florence couldn’t be the mother she wanted to be. I’d say she did the best she could by staying close to you. We don’t know what she faced at home with first her parents then her husband. Maybe you’re looking at this the wrong way. Could be she loves you more than you know. Even enough to give you wings.”

  As my love for Florence must set her free. Will looked up as a tear rolled down Lily’s cheek.

  She brushed it away and straightened. Her expression cleared, and a soft smile touched her lips. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Logan. I’ll think about what you’ve said. I hope you get a better report from Mrs. Harris’s doctor.”

  Will stepped back as Mabel rejoined them with her purchases. If this new doctor could find a cure for his sickness, would Florence give him a second chance?

  ~*~

  Florence blinked her eyes to focus on the blurred page before her. She’d read the third chapter of Ephesians enough she should know it by heart, but tonight she had no idea what it said. She’d lost Will. If not from his sickness, from lack of love. Or both. He said Mabel would miss her! Obviously, he wouldn’t.

  A knock at her room brought her heart to life. Will! He’d followed her. She jumped up letting her Bible slide into her chair then rushed toward the door, and pulled it open.

  A young man stepped forward, a newspaper clutched in his hand. “Hello, Mrs. Foster. I apologize for the late hour, but I have something urgent to discuss with you about your businesses in Chicago.”

  He lifted the newspaper, and she read the banner at the top of the front page. “‘The Chicago Morning Herald’. Who are you? What has happened?”

  “If I may come in, I’ll be happy to explain.” He took another step, crowding her.

  Her heart pounded. “I’ll meet you in the lounge downstairs.”

  “I don’t think you want that.” The tilt of his lips mocked her, yet his voice sounded sincere, even compassionate. “What I have to say shouldn’t be overheard.”

  Her breath caught. “Tell me what’s going on.” She took a step back as he moved forward.

  He closed the door and held up the newspaper. His concerned demeanor changed to a sneer. “How would you like your name splashed across the front page of this and other Chicago papers? I know you have a daughter named Lily Barlow, who was born out of wedlock.” He took a step forward with each accusation. “I know she grew up in an orphanage while you married well and became a wealthy woman. Quite a juicy story, isn’t it, Mrs. Foster? One you’d like to keep private.”

  Florence clutched her dress at her throat as the room grew dim. She blinked to keep from swooning, and the man came back into focus, the scar on his cheek standing out. The same scar as the man who’d watched her from across the street in Mesquite Gulch.

  Murray.

  The kids had talked about him. Faith put that scar on his cheek when he’d tried to take advantage of her. Oh, Lord, help me! “What do you want?”

  He shrugged. “Money, what else? Give me what you have, and I’ll keep quiet.” His voice lowered to a threat. “Send me on my way empty handed and I’ll make sure everyone in Chicago knows your dirty secret.” He lifted the paper again. “Oh, and everyone in Mesquite Gulch too.”

  A vision of Lily settled her decision. She couldn’t let her daughter be hurt any more than she already had been. Florence’s knees gave way, but she clutched the back of the chair. “All right. But I don’t have much with me. I think about fifty.”

  “Make it one hundred and I’ll forget everything I know.” Murray’s smile below the scar seemed more like a sneer.

  “I’ll see what I can find.” Florence dug through her purse and counted out one hundred dollars while her heart pounded a hard rhythm.

  He snatched the money, saluted her, and let himself out.

  Her knees gave way as the door clicked shut, and she fell to the floor lifting her Bible from the chair. “Lord, what have I done!”

   

   

   

   

  Chapter 5

   

   

  “No! I won’t.” Will shot from his easy chair and paced the living room, glaring at each of his sons gathered around him. Just like they had two days earlier, the whole lot of them had stopped by for dinner. He stopped in front of his sister. “Mabel, you put them up to this notion, but you can forget it. I’m not going to Chicago, or Ft. Worth, or anywhere else to see a doctor. I thought you invited the kids for another relaxing family dinner, not to badger me.”

  “Now Dad, listen to reason.” Zack left his chair and leaned against the mantle. “You just now jumped up like a teenager. If you listened to Doc Brown, he’d have you lying in bed writing instructions for the grave diggers.”

  “Doc has done a good job of taking care of this family, and I’ll stick with him until the end.”

  “The end just might not come so fast if you’d …”

  “Zack, I said ‘no’, and that’s what I mean,” Will roared.

  Silence settled over the room. The clinking of dishes being washed in the kitchen stilled as Will’s new daughters-in-law waited to see if his stormy temper had passed.

  “The least you could do is see my doctor in Fort Worth.” Mabel glanced up from the so
ck she was darning. “The trip might do you some good. Get your mind off your problems for a while.”

  Will snorted. “Off my problems?” Memories of Florence’s eyes holding him captive, waiting in vain for some word of endearment, flooded over him.

  “That’s what I said. You have problems, one of which is believing some physician who does nothing but listen to your heart for thirty seconds and says you’re a gonner.”

  He swallowed back the acid that seared his throat and rubbed the burning pain in his chest. “I don’t have any problems except my meddling sister and sons who won’t accept the fact that I’m dying.” He slumped into his chair, closed his eyes, and ran a calloused hand over his clammy face.

  “Mr. Logan?”

  Will opened his eyes to find Ida standing in front of him. He gulped away the rancid taste in his mouth that always occurred with the heart spells. “What is it, girl?”

  “I know I’m new to the family and have no say in the matter, but please do this for your sons. They’re very blessed to have a father. I never knew my daddy, and I always wanted one. I finally have a father in my life. You’ve worked hard and built this ranch. You’ve taken care of every problem that has arisen for years. If this was a sick cow or horse you’d find help for it. Please do as much for yourself.”

  Tears stung Will’s eyes, and humiliation allowed him to see his health troubles from a different view point. His family loved him. They were grown men with wives, but they still needed him. He took Ida’s hands in his and smiled. “You’re right, Ida. I’m being selfish. I’ll go to Fort Worth, and if that doctor recommends a specialist, I’ll go to Chicago.”

  Whoops resounded from around the room. “Well, I don’t believe it!” Able smacked his hands together. “A little bitty, red-headed woman has broken old Iron Will and wrapped him around her tiny finger.”

  “Iron Will?” Will’s eyes twinkled. “I haven’t been called that for years.”

  “Maybe not to your face, but you’ve been called that plenty around here lately.” Zack moved to Ida and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Thanks, honey. Maybe he’ll still be around to bounce his grandchildren on his knees.”

  Will’s brows lifted. “Babies? Ida, is there something you’re not telling?”

  Ida’s face turned scarlet. “No, sir. Zack means Faith and Able’s child.”

  Mabel stuffed the sock into the basket of mending at the side of her rocker. “I’ll send a telegram to Oswald and let him know we’re coming. When will you be ready to leave, Will? Tomorrow?”

  “No, I have to get Barlow lined out on what to do before I can leave. If I end up going on to Chicago, I’ll be gone a long time.” He turned to Ida. “Didn’t you say you have friends in the city?”

  “Yes, Hans and Polly took me and my mother in when we were penniless and living on the streets.” Her eyes danced with excitement at the idea of seeing them again. She wanted them to see her cowboy, to know that she was safe, loved, and happy.

  “Why don’t you and Zack come with me? How long will it take you to be ready?”

  A grin spread across Zack’s face. “We’ll be happy to come with you. It’s going to take a day or two to get everything ready. I lost my right arm when Rex quit and opened the store in town.”

  “We’ll plan on leaving Thursday. That should give you boys plenty of time to get plans made.” A mischievous smile played on Mabel’s lips. “We’ll get to Fort Worth Friday morning. I’ll tell Oswald to meet us at the Queen City Hotel for breakfast. Then we can go see Doctor McCowan.”

  ~*~

  A board creaked in the hall. The nurse was coming. To take her baby. Tears poured from Florence’s eyes, and she cradled the tiny bundle close. She’d get up. And run. They would never catch her. Never take her baby girl. She kicked her covers off and tried to stand. It was no use. She was too weak. She cried out, and woke to find herself standing at the side of her bed in the hotel.

  “Please, Lord, not the nightmares again,” she sobbed and sank back on the bed. She clung to her tear-soaked pillow, the bundle that should have been her baby. The horrible dreams hadn’t troubled her for years.

  “It must have been that evil man’s threats that have stirred up these demons from the past.” She slipped to her knees. “Lord, please help me. My life is in ruins, maybe in danger from that man named Murray. Those who are most dear to me have made it clear they don’t need me. I’ve poured my life into watching over Lily, but failed her miserably. You alone know what is in Will’s heart, and You know I love him.” Tears leaked through her fingers, splattering on the wood floor. “My whole life has been spent living a lie. Even my devotion and service to you have been a sham. Lord God, I realize, finally, I must put You first in my life. Only then will You lead me out of the tangled mess I’ve created.”

  Florence stood and walked on shaky legs to check the lock on her door. It was secure, but she still wedged a chair under the door knob. Would anyone be able to break in? Who would help her if she screamed? She peeked through the curtain of her second-story room. Streaks of pink radiated from the amber glow of a sun struggling to climb over the horizon.

  Unable to sleep, Florence dressed and slipped down to the dining room.

  The proprietor’s wife bustled in with a steaming pot of coffee. “Good morning, Mrs. Foster. You’re up and about early this morning.” She set the coffee near a stack of cups. “I hope there was no problem, and I trust you slept well.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Bradley. I slept fine.” Florence tried to smile, but knew she did a poor job of it.

  Mrs. Bradley cocked her head and studied her. “Sit down a moment and tell me what’s going on. I can spot trouble a quarter mile away.” She placed two cups of hot coffee on the table.

  The load on Florence’s shoulders lifted the instant she began to tell her story to the friendly proprietor. Mrs. Bradley was so much like Mabel she asked if they were sisters.

  “Mabel Logan?” Mrs. Bradley laughed. “Guess she hasn’t been a Logan for years, but she was when I first met her. We’ve known each other since we were teenagers.” She paused, looking out the window at the sunrise, and a deep sigh shook her thin frame. “My, that was a long time ago, and things have really changed around here since then.”

  “Have they changed that much? I heard gunshots last night and horses galloping through the street below my window.”

  “Oh, that’s nothing compared to what it used to be. Yes, this used to be a lawless, rough place. Everybody carried a weapon, even us girls.” She giggled. “Your friend Mabel once shot the toes off a man who wouldn’t stop harassing her.”

  An idea formed in her head while Florence sipped her coffee. “Do you know how to shoot?”

  “Sure. It isn’t a skill I use often but,” Mrs. Bradley reached under her apron and placed a derringer on the table, “you never know when a robber will think a lady is an easy target.”

  Florence carefully touched the pistol with one forefinger before lifting her gaze to meet Mrs. Bradley’s eyes. “Would you have time to teach me how to use one of those things?”

  Mrs. Bradley chuckled. “You bet! Young Mr. Scarface will need to be ready to dance when he comes begging for more money.”

  A satisfied sigh floated from Florence’s smiling lips. She nodded as she spoke. “Yes. He will be back, and this time he’ll face a true Texan, not a chicken-livered Chicago woman.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, very unlady-like, but she was finished with putting on airs. She was Florence Foster, and she’d never go running away from her problems again.

  “Good for you!” Mrs. Bradley slapped the table and jumped up as a client came in for breakfast. She leaned in close as she discreetly slipped the derringer back under her apron and whispered, “After you send that toe-less creep hobbling away, you get back on the stage and go meet your stubborn old Will Logan. Get him by the ears and tell him how you feel. That’s what it’ll take to get through his thick skull.”

  “I’ll do it!”

/>   ~*~

  For the first time in years, Florence felt at peace. Her heart was right with the Lord and Savior, and she’d made some important decisions for her life. The outcome of those choices would be in God’s hands. She strolled the streets of Fort Worth until she’d found a bank that appeared sound and prosperous. She entered and approached the teller.

  “I’d like to open an account here, please.” She smiled to herself as the teller asked her address. “Mesquite Gulch.”

  He scratched down more information before he cleared his throat. “In case of your demise, who do you want as your beneficiary?”

  “My daughter. Lily Barlow, also of Mesquite Gulch.” Florence breathed deeply. Her daughter. Her baby was grown. It would be up to Lily to make the next move if she wanted a closer relationship. She’d done all she could for her, and had gone about it the wrong way. But that was in the past. She couldn’t undo it. She would understand if Lily chose not to forgive her.

  “Ahem! Ma’am?” The teller was staring at her with bug eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I must have been wool gathering.”

  “I, uh, see. I asked if you had funds to open your account with us.”

  “Yes. I have a check from my bank in Chicago, and I’ll also have a wire coming in later today.” She placed the check on the counter in front of him.

  His eyes bugged out farther.

  She tightened the strings of her purse and wondered if she’d made a mistake choosing this bank. “Does your bank handle a wire transfer of funds?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes ma’am.” He grabbed the check and scrambled off the stool he’d been perched on. “I’ll be right back, ma’am. Don’t leave. I have to clear this with the president.”

  The teller was talking and gesturing wildly, and Florence dropped her gaze. Evidently they weren’t used to a single woman having money. She stared at the toes of her kid leather shoes. She’d had plenty of money all her life, and it had never brought one ounce of happiness. Why couldn’t people see that?

  “Ma’am? Ma’am?” The teller was staring at her again with those huge eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “My boss would like to know if you are Mrs. Foster of Foster Shipping and Imports. He has a brother who is a captain of one of the ships.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at the man watching them and nodded. “Small world, isn’t it? Thank you for helping me today.”