A Life Restored (35 page)

Working for the Colters for more than twenty-five years, he saved a rather fair sum of money.
 
Other than making sure he had a few outfits for his job and good shoes, he spent very little of what he earned.
 
He stocked it away in a little box for some day.
 
He stayed away from liquor after he became too dependent on it following Sheila’s death.
 
He stayed away from games of chance.
 
Instead, he saved what he didn’t need to use at the time.
 
Oh, there were a few times he dipped into the box for something special—like a new saddle or even a new horse.
 
But, most of the money he made waited for this day.

He still didn’t use it all.
 
Had plenty left in case he needed it.

Once back at the ranch, Will and Snake helped him unload everything from the wagon and into the house.

“Nice place,” Will said.
 
“Must feel good to have your own space.”

Ben grinned.
 
“Only one finishing touch needed.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Some.
 
Bit strange after all this time living with a bunch of rough cowboys to think about settling down.”

Will patted him on the shoulder.
 
“Can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”

Ben didn’t know if he deserved it, but he sure did like it.
 
He thanked Will and Snake as they left.
 
Then he double checked everything before retiring to bed.
 
Tomorrow was going to be one of the biggest days of his life.

“Benjamin!”
 
Betty exclaimed when he poked his head into her kitchen.
 
“In town two days in a row?”

“Missed ya so much yesterday.
 
Couldn’t bear another day without seeing yer pretty smile.”

Heat warmed her face.

“Can I steal ya away fer the day?”

Some of her joy faded a bit.
 
Paul was out at his claim and she wasn’t sure about leaving the Pengs to fend for themselves.
 
“I, uh—”

“Sorry I’m late,” Paul said, breathlessly as he bounded into the kitchen.

“Right on time,” Ben replied.

Again, Betty felt like something was going on.

“Go on.”

“But—”

“Remember what I said yesterday,” Paul said, ushering her out the door on Ben’s arm.
 
“See you later.
 
Much later.”

“Oh, dear,” she muttered, now flustered by her son’s strange behavior.

“Come on,” Ben said as he led her to the waiting wagon.
 
He helped her up into the seat and started the wagon heading out of town towards Colter Ranch.

“What’s going on, Benjamin?”

“Got a surprise fer ya.”

“I’m already surprised.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.
 
“Then get ready fer another one.”

Silently, she tried to reason through what was going on for several minutes before giving up.
 
He would tell her soon enough.

As they arrived at the top of the hill overlooking the valley where Colter Ranch sat, Ben stopped the wagon.
 
“See that new cabin?”

She followed his extended hand to a spot on the northern edge of the lake.

“Oh.
 
Did someone else move to the ranch?”

“Nope.
 
I moved outta the bunkhouse.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

That must have been what kept him from visiting with her.

“It looks like a lovely spot.”

Ben straightened on the wagon seat and his face split into a big grin.
 
“Wanna see it?”

“Of course.”

He urged the horse forward into the valley.
 
Within a few minutes, he stopped the wagon in front of the quaint little cabin.

Once her feet were on the ground, Betty turned in a circle.
 
The original ranch house, now Adam and Julia Larson’s home, sat on the southeastern edge of the lake.
 
The new ranch house where Will and Hannah lived sat on the northeastern edge of the lake.
 
Both places near enough to walk to quickly from Ben’s cabin, but far enough away to afford some privacy.

“Come on in,” Ben said, holding the door for her.

“Benjamin!
 
It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, taking in the homey feel of the place.

In one corner sat an iron stove—almost as big as the one in her new kitchen at the boardinghouse.
 
Near it was a lovely hand carved and nicely finished table with four chairs.
 
Along the opposite end of the cabin stood a bed, two dressers, a wash stand, and a loom.

Odd that Ben would have two dressers and a loom.

He took her hand in his and led her to the table.
 
She noticed a wrapped item on the table.
 
He motioned for her to sit.
 
Then he handed her the package.

“For you.”

She tugged on the string, eager to see what the odd shaped package held.
 
A lovely yellow gingham patterned fabric!
 
“It’s beautiful.
 
But what is it for?”

Ben kneeled before her.
 
“I was hopin’ ya could sew some new curtains for our home.”

“I’d be happy to make you some curtains.”

Then his words registered.
 
“Our home?”

“Betty Lancaster, yer the best woman I ever met.
 
Ya got a kind heart and a kind spirit.
 
Ya make me smile just thinking about ya.
 
I was hopin’ that ya’d want to be my wife and share this little cabin I built fer ya.”

Two dressers.
 
A large stove.
 
A loom.
 
Materials for curtains.
 
It was all starting to make sense.
 
This wasn’t Benjamin’s home.
 
This was to be their home.
 
Together.

A hint of an objection leaped to the tip of her tongue.
 
Then she remembered Paul’s words yesterday.
 
Her son was ready for her to leave.
 
He was ready to take on the challenge of running the boardinghouse alone.
 
He wanted this for her.

“Yes, Benjamin.
 
I would love to be your wife.”

Ben slowly stood, bracing one arm on the table.
 
Then he drew her up from her seat and into his arms.
 
His lips found hers and he kissed her with a hint of the passion he held back before.
 
Her heart raced and she eagerly returned the kiss, so thankful that the Lord blessed her with another good man—one she hoped to share the next season of life with.

Chapter 36

Thomas rolled out of bed to the smell of frying bacon, discouraged.
 
He lost the job at the newspaper after a week.
 
His hands were too clumsy to properly set the letters in the trays to produce the newspaper.
 
Mr. Hand gave him a speech that was becoming all too familiar.
 
He hated to let Thomas go, especially with a little one on the way, but perhaps Thomas would find something he was better suited for.

Only he hadn’t, yet.

In a month’s time he lost the job at the sawmill, newspaper, hotel, and blacksmith shop.
 
It seemed he was good at nothing besides riding.
 
And that was no longer an option.

Dejected he slowly dressed as Caroline finished preparing breakfast.

“I heard that Barnett and Barth’s store is looking for help,” Caroline said as she set a plate of food before him.

He started eating.
 
She cleared her throat.
 
When he continued eating, she asked, “Are you going to say grace?”

Biting back a growl, he set his fork down.
 
“Go ahead.”

She hesitated for a few seconds before she said a quick prayer.
 
As soon as she finished, Thomas resumed eating.

“So, what do you think?”

“About what?” he grumbled.

“Seeing about the job at Barnett and Barth’s.”

He clenched his jaw tightly and looked up at her.
 
The intense look in her eyes bothered him, adding fuel to the building fire of his temper.

“I’m not working at a store.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not.”

Caroline parted her lips then snapped them shut.

Good.
 
Maybe she would stop pestering him and let him figure it out on his own.
 
There was no way he was going to work in a stupid store.
 
He did too much of that growing up and hated it.

“I just think you’d be good at it.”

Thomas erupted.
 
“Enough!
 
I am not working at Barnett and Barth’s.
 
I will find another job.
 
Let it be!”
 
The boiling of his anger overflowed.
 
Shoving the plate from him, he stood.
 
Grabbing his cane, he headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

He whirled around and leaned over her.
 
“To see what I can find to support you!”

He turned and walked out the door.
 
Slamming it hard, he started down the stairs.

She just didn’t understand.
 
He was trying to find something.
 
But with each failure, he felt worse about himself.
 
He was good at nothing.
 
His stupid crippled leg kept him from doing anything physically demanding.
 
His clumsy fingers kept him from doing anything intricate, like typesetting at the newspaper.
 
He was worthless.
 
He never should have married Caroline.
 
She would be so much better off without him.

You’re still good at one thing.
 
What?
 
Gambling.

His heart picked up pace.
 
He was good at gambling.

Don’t do it.

But, he had to.
 
It was the only way he had left to provide for Caroline.
 
And he couldn’t get fired from it.
 
He would do it just for a while until they had some money saved up for a few months.
 
Then he could stop and get a real job.
 
Surely God wouldn’t stop him from doing what he had to do to take care of his family.

He walked to the town square and sat down on a bench where he had a view of Hardy’s mercantile.
 
He watched for Caroline to walk down the stairs and into the store.
 
Then he waited for a few more minutes, just to be sure she didn’t forget something at home.
 
When she stayed in the store, he walked across the street and into their small room.

Standing in front of his dresser, he bent down to retrieve the small pouch of gold coins from the bottom drawer.
 
He hid the money from Caroline, keeping it in case they were in desperate circumstances.
 
It was the perfect amount to start at the poker tables.
 
He stuffed it into his pocket.

Pushing more clothing aside, he found his revolver.
 
Better to be prepared in case he played with some shady characters.
 
Once his gun was loaded, he tucked it into his pants at the small of his back.

He quietly walked back to the door, down the stairs, and onto the street.
 
Scanning the saloons, he tried to decide which one to go to.
 
A few men walked sluggishly from Montgomery’s saloon.
 
Thomas moved forward.

Peering inside, he saw a game of poker started in the back corner.
 
He recognized one of the men at the table as Robert Garrett.

His hands shook with nervous anticipation.
 
He needed to calm down, otherwise he would be an easy target for these men.
 
Taking a seat at the bar, he ordered a whiskey.
 
Tossing his head back, he chugged the drink, bringing the glass down to the counter with a hard bang.
 
He fidgeted with the glass for a few minutes until he started to relax.
 
Then he ordered another drink.

After taking a few sips, he walked towards the poker table.

“Room for one more?”

Garrett looked up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.
 
He looked Thomas from head to toe.
 
“Might be too high stakes for you.”

Thomas glanced at the stacks of chips on the table.
 
He could handle it.
 
Tossing his pouch of gold on the table in front of the dealer, he said, “Think that should cover it.”

The dealer opened the pouch and counted out the gold coins.
 
He nodded his head then shoved a stack of chips across the table to an open seat.
 
Thomas sat.

When the round finished, Thomas was dealt in.
 
The first few hands he purposely lost, carefully studying each man around the table.
 
By his fourth hand, he had a relatively good idea of how each man played.
 
He won that hand.

“Finally joined the game, eh?” Garrett commented.

Thomas let it go, draining his drink instead.

The next two rounds went to Garrett.
 
Then it seemed the hands bounced back and forth between Thomas and Garrett.
 
As his confidence grew, Thomas placed bolder bets.

On one rather risky hand, he bet over half of his entire pot, certain his hand was better than anyone else’s.
 
Garrett took only one card, increasing the size of his bet to a point that would force Thomas to risk almost everything.
 
The other players folded.
 
Thomas studied his opponent then his cards, then his opponent.
 
There was only one hand that would beat his.
 
Pushing all but a dollar worth of chips to the center of the table, Thomas called Garrett’s bet.

“Show your cards,” Thomas said.

Garrett nervously played with the edge of one card.
 
Slowly he laid his cards down, acting as if he was scared of the outcome.
 
When the final card came into view, Thomas’s stomach dropped to the floor.
 
It was the one hand that would beat his.
 
As his palms started to sweat, he revealed his loosing hand.

Garrett laughed.
 
“Better luck next time.”
 
As he gathered the large pot toward him, he tossed two dollars towards Thomas.
 
“Have a few drinks on me.
 
Maybe take a visit upstairs to work off your frustration.”

Thomas clamped his jaw shut.
 
Revealing nothing, he pocketed his last dollar and the two remaining charity ones from Garrett.
 
Leaving a chuckling Garrett behind, he headed back to the bar.

Slamming a dollar down on the table, he groused at the bartender.
 
“Keep ‘em coming until this is gone.”

Caroline hurried up the stairs, hoping Thomas hadn’t been waiting on her for too long.
 
Abraham had been tied up unloading supplies from a delivery when several customers arrived just a few minutes before closing.
 
One woman in particular seemed intent on taking her time looking over practically every bolt of fabric before making her selection.
 
It was almost an hour after normal closing time before everyone left.

She tentatively opened the door.
 
The room was empty.
 
Maybe he found work.

Looking over the pantry, she tried to figure out what to make for supper.
 
She decided she would make a stew using just one potato and some dried beef.
 
It would be thin but sufficient.
 
She still had to wait a few more days before she was paid next and they were dangerously low on food supplies.

Please let Thomas have found a job today.

A half hour later, supper was ready.
 
Still Thomas had not returned.
 
Caroline moved the stew to the back of the stove to keep it warm.

Another hour passed.
 
She started to worry as her stomach growled.
 
They hadn’t parted company on good circumstances this morning.
 
She hadn’t feared that he wouldn’t return.
 
He just didn’t seem like that sort of man.

What did she know?
 
She barely knew him—even after a month of marriage.
 
He had been moody and quiet most of the time, except for the first few days at any new job.
 
Those were the days she liked the most.
 
He seemed excited about the new job and his confidence returned.
 
Only each time it was cut short.
 
After a matter of days, he lost his job.

Those were the days she liked the least.
 
She could tell his anger boiled below the surface, mixed with self-doubt and fear.

She prayed for him—more than she prayed for anyone ever before.
 
He stopped going to church.
 
He distanced himself.
 
The more time passed without a job, the more morose he got.

Nothing seemed to be getting better.

When her stomach growled again, she looked at the clock.
 
Eight.
 
Standing, she moved to the stove and dished herself a meager bowl.
 
Then she sat at the table.

Lord, keep my husband safe.
 
Bring him home soon.
 
Thank you for this food.
 
Amen.

As she sipped her soup, she tried to figure out where he would be.
 
Maybe he was helping Paul fix up something at the boardinghouse and he lost track of time.
 
No.
 
Betty would have sent him home by now.

What if he was hurt somewhere?
 
Maybe she would stop by Doc Armstrong’s and ask if he had seen Thomas.

That probably would not be good.
 
What if Thomas didn’t want to come home?
 
Would he get angry if he felt like she was checking up on him?

She finished her meal and washed the dishes.
 
Then she sat in her rocking chair.
 
She picked up a book and tried to read.
 
Only she couldn’t.
 
She kept glancing at the clock.
 
Nine.
 
Half past nine.