A Promise to Believe in (27 page)

The man straightened and moved forward as if to strike a blow. Hank stepped between the two, however. “I wouldn’t do that, mister. You’ll only get her mad.”

“She ever tries that kind of stunt again, I’ll kill her.”

“You’d better bring friends if you’re going to try,” Lacy called out as she came around Hank.

Hank reached out and took hold of Lacy’s arm. “I think you’ve hurt the man enough. I’m sure Gwen is wondering where you’ve gotten off to. Hadn’t you better head back?”

She glared at him but moved away. “Just remember what I said, Wyman.”

“
You
remember, missy—show up in there again, and I’ll let the boys have you.” He turned and walked back to the saloon. It was obvious he was still hurting, but his pride wasn’t about to let him show it.

Hank turned to go back to Gallatin House and found Lacy standing only about ten feet away. She looked plenty mad, and Hank knew she’d have words for him.

“Before you get started,” he said, raising his hand as if to ward her off, “would you mind telling me what you were doing at the saloon? Your sister would have a fit if I told her.”

“Gwen has a fit about a lot of things.”

“Truly? She’s always seemed rather easygoing to me.”

Lacy put her hands on her hips. “I know her better than you do, and she has a lot to be upset about. She throws plenty of tantrums when she wants to.”

“And you don’t?”

“I didn’t say that. I know I’m spirited. Pa used to tell me that, of all of us girls, I bore the closest resemblance to our mom in looks and attitude. He said she was spirited, and I take that as a compliment.”

Hank folded his arms. “You might also take it as a warning.”

Lacy stiffened. “In what way?” Her tone suggested she was offended.

“Spirited folks don’t always consider the outcome of a deed before attempting it. Spirited folks sometimes rush in without heeding the danger at hand.”

“So be it. Sometimes you just have to do a thing without thinking about it. Thinking about it just slows things down.”

Hank chuckled. “Sometimes thinking resolves a problem without creating one.”

“Go ahead and laugh at me all you want, Mr. Bishop. I’ll be the one laughing when I accomplish what I set out to do.”

“And what exactly were you attempting to do? Will your sister also laugh when she knows the truth of it?”

This seemed to take the wind out of Lacy’s sails. Hank watched her take a deep breath and consider his question. She seemed troubled, almost as if she were about to break into tears, but he knew that was probably only due to her anger.

“I was trying to find Pa’s killer,” she finally said. “I want to see justice done. It’s important to me.”

“Why?”

“Because it is!”

“But why?” Hank asked again. “Why is it so important? It won’t bring your father back to life.”

She looked at Hank as if he’d lost his mind. “Why do you want to reclaim the certificates Harvey stole? They won’t bring him back to life.”

“That’s entirely a different matter. I want to pay my mother’s debts and give her peace of mind.”

Lacy nodded. “It’s no different for me. I want to pay back a debt and have peace of mind.”

“What debt are you talking about?” Hank looked at her oddly.

She squared her shoulders and let out a heavy breath. “A debt of honor.”

“How are you feeling?” Gwen asked Beth, bringing her a bowl of soup.

“Better. The laudanum helped. Sure glad the doctor suggested it. Of course, I feel rather woozy.” She giggled. “Do you suppose this is what those cowboys feel like when they’ve imbibed too much liquor?”

“I couldn’t say,” Gwen replied, watching her sister run her finger along the quilt as she traced out a pattern.

“I hope I’m not a nuisance,” Beth said, suddenly looking up at Gwen. “I feel rather silly and useless. The medicine is quite strong.”

Gwen smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with that. After all you’ve been through, you deserve to feel no pain. I brought you something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“No. Sleepy. I tried to read, but the words just blurred together. Remember when we gave laum . . . laudamum . . . laudanum . . . to Hank? I suppose this is how he felt. I don’t feel so bad about it now.” She giggled again.

Gwen worried that perhaps they’d given Beth too much medication. “And why is that?” Gwen put the soup on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Because it feels quite . . . well . . . wonderful. I feel fine, not at all like I did before. Before, I thought my back was broken. I thought my head was going to explode.”

Gwen sat down beside Beth and took hold of her hand. “I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how horrible I feel. I was so afraid I had killed you.”

Beth shook her head and smiled. “You were just in a hurry.”

“I was upset. I should have been paying attention, but my mind was elsewhere.” Gwen looked away and closed her eyes. “It’s hard not to believe I’m cursed when things like this keep happening.”

“You aren’t cursed. That’s jus’ silly,” Beth murmured, her speech beginning to sound thick. She closed her eyes. “You’re only human.” She opened her eyes as if a sudden thought permeated the thick fog of her brain. “Why were you upset?”

Gwen looked at Beth and could see that she was fading fast. “It wasn’t important. I thought it was at the time, but it wasn’t.” She pushed away thoughts of Hank and his kiss. How could she explain her heart to Beth when she didn’t even understand it herself?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Hank, we really appreciate the help you’ve offered us,” Gwen said as they finished up breakfast. “Still, I know this isn’t the reason you’re here.”

Her comment only served to remind him that time was slipping away. He’d already been gone from home over two months and hadn’t been in contact with his mother for nearly six weeks.

“I figured since you needed supplies,” he began, “I could go to Bozeman and bring them back for you. That way, I can ask questions about Harvey and see if anyone knows anything.”

Lacy looked at him oddly for a moment. “Why are you being so helpful? You came here spewing all sorts of insults and anger—and now you want to help?”

“And as I’ve told your sister, I was wrong. I misjudged her.”

“I’ll say.” Lacy unrolled her left sleeve and buttoned the cuff. She seemed to dismiss the subject as quickly as she’d brought it up. “Gwen, I’ll ride over to the Shepards and get the butter and eggs. I’ll have Nick ready the buckboard for Mr. Bishop, as well.”

“Oh, Lacy, we’ll need milk and cream.” Gwen moved to the kitchen and returned with a stack of white cloths that Hank knew had once held squares of butter. “Maybe see if you can borrow Nick and Simon’s wagon. And don’t forget the money.”

Lacy nodded. “I should be back by late afternoon. I know Patience will want me to join them for lunch.”

“Take your time, Lacy. The chores are caught up, and we aren’t due a stage until tomorrow. I plan to spend the day baking, catching up on mending, and seeing to Beth.”

“Will you be all right here alone if I head to Bozeman?” Hank asked.

“I’m hardly alone,” Gwen protested. “I have the Lassiters if I need help, and Beth is doing much better. We’ll be fine.”

Hank wasn’t completely convinced, but he had been anxious to get to Bozeman ever since they had come up dry about the missing stocks when visiting Virginia City and Norris. He got to his feet. “Then I suppose I’d best be on my way.”

“If you decide to spend the night in Bozeman, don’t worry about us,” Gwen said, smiling. “I assure you, we will be perfectly fine.”

“I don’t have any desire to do that.” The truth of that statement rather startled Hank, and he wondered how Gwen would take his comment after the kiss they’d shared.

The ride to Bozeman was some fifteen miles to the east. Hank didn’t really notice the rise in altitude as the horses plodded along the trail, but he was told the landscape climbed as much as six thousand feet. The valley ahead of him was carpeted in green and gold. Wheat was a primary staple of local farmers, and every accessible spot was planted. Hank drew a deep breath and felt a sense of peace rush over him. This was a far cry from the busyness and noise of Boston, yet he knew for certain he had to return east. Yet he would also leave a part of his heart, for he’d come to love this land—and Gwen Gallatin.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he should do about either issue. He’d never expected to care about any woman other than his mother. At least not enough to consider the things that were going through his mind. He could actually see himself married to Gwen. He could easily imagine living here the rest of his life and raising a family.

A family? He’d always sworn he would never sire a child. Given his own miserable upbringing, he wanted no part in causing such anguish to settle upon another person, much less his own son or daughter. He had figured to remain celibate and alone—to stop his father’s cursed existence from being revisited upon future generations.

He thought of Gwen and how she had believed herself cursed. Some people just accepted such fates as if they had no other say in the matter. But not him. Hank knew better. He had as much choice to reject such a future as he did to accept it. It was all a matter of choosing his path—the right path.

“But what is the right path?” he asked, as if expecting someone to answer.

Fixing his gaze east toward the closest mountain range, Hank marveled at the grooves and peaks. The snow was pretty much gone at this point. Here and there, Hank spotted a touch of white, but otherwise, a rich, dark green blended against the purple hue, suggesting a welcoming summer landscape. He found himself wondering what it might be like to ride up into those mountains and spend a week or two. The ride back from Virginia City had given him an experience unlike any he’d known. Even the times camping with his grandfather hadn’t been as picturesque. Nor had they touched his soul the way that week with Gwen and Lacy had.

Hank shook his head and tried to force his mind on the task at hand. The first step was to find the stock certificates. The rules of the company demanded the physical stocks in hand in order to redeem them for cash. There was no hope of doing it any other way—the risk was too great that someone could show up at a later time with the stocks in hand and claim themselves to be the true owners. He needed those pieces of paper to give his mother the standard of living he’d promised her.

“But if I can’t find them,” he told himself, “I can provide for Mother. I could buy us a small place.”

Even as he said it, however, Hank knew it was nonsense. His mother desired to live with her widowed sister. She wanted to travel and do all of the things that his stepfather had never had time or interest in doing.

Bozeman was a simple town, its main street varying in degrees of dust, mud, or muck. There were wide grooves in the now-dry roadway, as well as holes big enough to cripple a horse or break a wheel.

Hank picked his way carefully down the street, avoiding freighters, buggies, and pedestrians as he made his way to the bank. Just as Gwen had said, the place was closed up tight, but there was a sign that suggested where he might be able to speak with one of the owners. Hank secured the wagon, read the directions, then headed down the street. He had a feeling the trip would yield him nothing but additional questions, yet he had to try. He had to know the truth, even if the truth didn’t resolve the problem.

Looking at the address and the name engraved on the door, Hank realized he’d come to the right place. The address was the law office of Mr. Kenneth Snyder. At least, that’s what the gold-stenciled letters read.

Stepping inside the rather stuffy building, Hank pulled his hat from his head and looked to a clerk who sat buried behind stacks of thick, dusty books.

“May I help you?” the young man asked.

“I’d like to speak with Mr. Snyder.”

The man looked at him oddly. “Do you have an appointment?”

Hank shook his head and steeled the younger man with a look that he knew to be quite intimidating. “No. I’m here, however, to discuss a matter that will not wait.”

The clerk seemed to shrink behind the books. “I’ll ask if he has time to see you. Wait here.”