Willowdale, Kansas
1886
Three long, long days, and at last, Lila Garrison could see her destination in the distance, a tiny cluster of buildings she might have taken for a ranch if she hadn’t known it was an entire town. She forced her tired legs to continue carrying her for just a little while longer, though there was no way she could go any faster. This journey had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, and more of her was tired than just her legs. Her back ached. Her feet throbbed. No matter how hard she tried, she could no longer take a full breath due to the tension in her sides and chest.
But I’m almost there, she thought. Almost there. Just another hour.
What drove her on like a whip snapping at her back was the desire for answers. After her older sister, Genevieve, suddenly left home a month before she would be wed, everyone had been left with only questions and no solutions. Genevieve had sent a few letters here and there in the nearly two years since she had gone, though never enough, never with enough information for Lila to learn anything she wanted to learn. No one else knew anything, as Lila was the only one receiving her sister’s letters.
Then, three days ago, she had received a different sort of letter from Genevieve. Rather than vague reassurances penned in a neat, pretty script, these letters were scrawled and almost unreadable. The content had been brief, almost curt. Genevieve was staying at the inn in Willowdale. She needed Lila to come to her. Quickly.
At first, Lila wasn’t even certain how she felt. Surely Genevieve didn’t just expect her to go to her right away after all this time apart? She had felt herself becoming angry, holding the paper so tightly that it tore from the pressure of her fingers.
Then, another thought had broken through the burgeoning anger. Genevieve wasn’t stupid. She had to know what this must look like and decided to send the letter anyway. She must truly be in need if she was risking her independence and adventure by asking Lila to go to her.
After that, there had been no doubt in her mind as to whether or not she would go.
Her parents would never allow her to go on her own. They had never taught her to ride a horse, and they didn’t even allow her to leave the farm on her own anymore, not even to go to the store. It would have been a waste of time to ask, and there had not been any time to waste. In fact, she had worried about being out of time. There was no telling how long ago Genevieve had sent the letter and how long she would wait for Lila to come to her.
If she wasn’t still at the inn….
Lila shoved that thought from her mind. She had to believe that there was a purpose to these long days spent walking, eating, and drinking little to stretch her meager supplies.
At long last, she walked into the town. The narrow, dusty street ran straight through the clustered buildings. She could blink and miss the place; that was how small and dingy it was. Almost every building was made of logs and had a sod roof. Only the bank and the inn had been constructed with actual wooden boards and nails, though they looked as if they might fall down if a particularly strong wind came off the prairie.
As she trudged down the road to the inn, she saw no other people, though she did hear their voices spilling out from inside the houses and businesses along the street. She felt them watching her, wondering why she was there all alone. And there were other eyes upon her, too, glowing cats’ eyes glaring out from the shadows between buildings.
The leaning façade of the inn towered over her as she at last approached the door. She swallowed hard, her stomach swirling with sudden nerves that were very different from the general tight anxiety she had been enduring this entire time. She had gone so long without seeing her sister. Would Genevieve be different? Would she even recognize her when she saw her?
Swallowing hard, Lila pushed the inn door open and stepped inside.
The air was very warm and tinged with the scent of burning from the fire blazing in the hearth. A number of lanterns supplemented the glow of the fire, allowing her to appreciate the tidy space before her. Contrary to its drab exterior, the front room of the inn held very nicely crafted tables and chairs. Animal skins covered the floor, and hanging upon the walls were a few paintings, as well as an elaborate piece of woven fabric that looked like it had been made by someone from one of the nearby Indian tribes.
At one end of the room was a bar counter with shelves of various liquors behind that. Lila’s eyes widened at the collection of bottles and the colors of the liquids inside. She had never known there were so many different kinds. She only knew about wine and the whiskey her father and other men drank.
“Hello?” Lila called out. Her voice was swallowed by the crackling fire. She tried again. “Hello? Is there anyone who works here? Genevieve?”
“I heared you; I’m comin’.” A woman stepped out of the hallway across the room.
Lila blinked in surprise. She had never seen such a rough-looking woman before, one wearing a shirt and pants like a man. This town was much closer to Dodge City, and Lila had heard all sorts of stories about that place, so maybe she shouldn’t be too surprised at this sight.
The woman pulled a cigarette from her pocket and stuck it in the corner of her mouth. “What you doin’ all on your lonesome, girl?”
Lila watched the cigarette bobble up and down as the woman spoke, mildly fascinated. “My sister said that she was here. She sent me a letter. Her name’s—”
“Genevieve. And you’re Lila.” The woman lit the end of her cigarette with a dirty brown lighter. She sighed and leaned her head back, exhaling a stream of smoke from her nostrils. “You done did a fool thing, comin’ out here on your own. I got to admire it, though.”
“Is my sister here?” Lila looked around.
Is anyone here except for you?
The woman gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Looks abandoned now. It’ll fill up come dinnertime. Yes, girl, your sister’s here. She’s upstairs. Three rooms there. She’s in the one farthest right.”
“Thank you,” Lila gasped and moved toward the hallway, where she assumed the stairs were.
A hard hand clamped on her shoulder, and she spun back around with a cry. The woman loomed over her, her yellow hair a frizz around her head. The fingers digging like talons into Lila’s shoulder were stained with gray from constant cigarette smoking.
“Let go of me.” Lila’s voice emerged in a squeak. “I mean it.”
“Well, now, I didn’t mean to scare you none.” The woman laughed. And let go of her.
Lila clamped her hand over the sore spots where she could still feel the woman’s nails digging into her. Her heart was racing so hard that she could feel her pulse throbbing at her wrists.
The woman sighed. “You are too jumpy. Vuln’rable. Shouldn’t be by yourself.”
Lila shook her head. She wasn’t refuting what was said. She just didn’t know what else she could say.
“I only wanted to offer you my condolences. I’m sorry for you, girl, I am.” The woman turned away to resume her smoking.
“Sorry?” Lila frowned. “Sorry for what?”
“You’ll see for yourself.” The woman turned away. “Best pony up and move fast. I expect you’ll want to get out of here ‘fore all the men show up for their dinner.”
Lila needed no further encouragement to move, and she hurried into the hallway, glad to have distance between herself and the strange woman. She found the stairs and climbed them, each one squeaking as she put her weight upon it and then groaning in relief when she moved off. The hall at the top landing had three rooms, one to the left and two on the right. Lila approached the second door on the right, her heart still beating fast.
She lifted her hand and knocked. “Genevieve? It’s Lila.”
“Lila? Come in.” The faint voice that came through the door sounded nothing at all like Genevieve, yet Lila knew that it was. Her heart knew.
Lila pushed the door in and almost immediately recoiled at the bitter smell of sickness. She put her hand over her mouth, her eyes stinging.
The room was dark, illuminated only by a single lantern that cast a fragile light upon a bed piled up high with blankets. Lila looked around for her sister. The blankets on the bed moved, and she realized that was her sister. She rushed over to the side of the bed, reaching to clasp her sister’s hand as it emerged from beneath the blankets. It was pale and clammy, weakly grasping at hers.
No, no, no, she thought, her knees weakening.
“Look at me, Lila. Please.” Genevieve’s weak voice was hardly a whisper and so hoarse.
Lila shook her head. She was speaking aloud now, silently begging, though to whom she was speaking, she wasn’t sure. “No, no, it can’t be! You can’t be sick. That can’t happen!”
“Lila…I need you to look at me. I need you to help me.” Genevieve pulled her hand away. She touched Lila’s cheek, a movement as frail as the touch of a butterfly’s wings.
Help her sister. Yes, that was why she had come all this way after packing up and leaving in secret before her parents could catch her and stop her.
She had to be strong because her sister was weak.
Lila slowly looked up until she found her sister’s face. Even in the dark, her appearance was horrifying.
Gone was her vibrancy, the glow that had attracted the attention of all the young men in Petersburg. Her cheeks had gone sallow, and her entire face was generally much paler. Her eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. The straight golden hair she had once been so proud of was brittle and thin.
Genevieve was only twenty-two, only two years older than Lila, yet she looked like an old woman on her deathbed.
“What happened to you?” Lila whispered. The tears on her face were cold as ice.
Genevieve let out a heavy, rattling sigh, sinking deeper into the bed. She shook all over despite the sickly heat coming off her in waves. “What a way to talk to your sister.”
“I’m sorry. You’re beautiful.”
Genevieve laughed and then coughed. The singular cough turned into a rolling series of sputters and hacking, like thunder that went on and on. At last, it stopped, and she seemed to shrink in on herself, deflating so much before Lila’s very eyes that she grabbed onto her thin shoulders and shook her.
“Genevieve!” Lila cried, her voice cracking.
Genevieve blinked slowly. “You’re the beautiful one. You always have been. Did our parents try to stop you from comin’ to me?”
“They don’t know.” Lila dropped to her knees beside the bed, clasping her sister’s hand. “When Ma goes into town for groceries, I accompany her to check for your letters. I hide them in my dress so they don’t know.”
“I’m sorry that I’ve been usin’ you like that. They just wouldn’t understand.” Genevieve’s breathing was ragged and shallow.
Lila said nothing. It wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her what their parents thought of her; likely, she already knew, and that was why she only wrote her letters for Lila’s eyes.
“I got sick,” Genevieve said. “It makes me weak. I’ve been coughin’ for weeks, and now it hurts to breathe. So hard to breathe.”
“I’ll get you a doctor!”
“They couldn’t do anythin’ for me.” Genevieve’s eyes were closed. Her lips barely moved with her words. “I know that I’m not long for this world now. It’s why I brought you here. I needed to know he’s safe.”
“He? Who is he?”
Genevieve kept talking like she hadn’t heard her. “Lydia, she’s the owner of this inn. She helped me write the letter and sent it for me. She’s so kind.”
“The woman wearing the pants?”
“Don’t let appearances fool you, sister. That’s how I got myself in this situation.”
As Genevieve paused to cough, Lila heard a sound that she wouldn’t have expected to hear at all in a place like this. There was no mistaking that wordless coo. She stumbled up to her feet and grabbed the lantern. Lifting it high, she peered into the shadows and, at last, saw what had been hidden from her all this time.
Tucked away in the corner between the wall and the foot of her sister’s bed was a tiny, ramshackle wooden bassinet. Lila approached the bassinet, forcing every step. The lantern light fell across a wrapped bundle. She reached and pushed the fabric aside, and there was a baby peering up at her, dark-haired, dark-eyed, chubby-cheeked, and as sweet as she had ever seen. The baby scrunched up its face at the light and gave another soft coo.
Gasping out, Lila turned back to the bed. Her knees weakened as it seemed like she could still see the baby, a picture of his sweet little face caught in her mind.
“Genevieve? Is this baby yours?” That surely wasn’t right. Genevieve hadn’t said anything about getting married or having a child in all of her letters. But why else would there be a baby in this room with her sister?
“My son,” Genevieve whispered.
Lila raked her fingers through her hair. “How did this happen?” All of this was too much. She was so tired. She just wanted to lie down on the floor and sleep for a while. Maybe when she woke, the world would make sense again.
“I need you to keep him safe now since I won’t be able to.”
“Don’t say such things!”
The baby began to fuss in the bassinet. He worked one arm out from inside his swaddling blanket and waved his tiny clenched fist.
“Please take care of him for me,” Genevieve said. “Make sure that he has a good life.”
“You need to stop sayin’ such things.” Lila shook her head, more tears dampening her cheeks.
There was a darkness forming inside of her, growing larger, like rot spreading through the structure of a house. She so desperately wanted to ignore it and pretend it wasn’t there, but she knew, before long, she was going to have to confront it. She dreaded that time. She had to put it off for as long as she could.
“His name is William.” Briefly, some strength and warmth returned to Genevieve’s frail voice. She even lifted her head off the pillow. “Pick him up. Stop his fussin’.”
Lila put the lantern down and reached into the bassinet. She had spent a lot of time helping to take care of babies and young children in town, at least, before her parents confined her to the farm, and she knew how to hold William. He wriggled with surprising strength in her arms as she held him to her chest, and she wondered how old he was. He was small but clearly older than she had originally assumed. He was holding up his head on his own, kicking his legs inside his blanket. Lila adjusted the blanket, wrapping it more securely around him, and he settled in against her.
Lila carried the baby over to the bed and kneeled down. William looked around and saw his mother. He cooed softly, sweetly.
Genevieve reached to him and stroked his round cheek. She smiled and relaxed once more. “Take him where he belongs, please, Lila.”
“Who is his father?”
“He belongs to Cade Harris.”
Lila gasped. “Cade? But how? And when?”
“There’s no time.” Genevieve’s head tilted back slightly. Her eyes fluttered, half-shut. “Take him. And leave me now. Before I….”
“I’m not leaving you. I’m staying with you! Because…because you’ll be alright by tomorrow. You just need rest. That’s all.” The darkness was growing, spreading its tendrils farther. Her face felt numb. Time was slipping away. She had to face the truth, yet she couldn’t, even at this most important moment.
“I don’t want you to see me.” Genevieve’s exhale came slowly, hitching. “Lydia, she’ll take care of me.”
“You don’t need some stranger to care for you! I’m here!” William was beginning to fuss again. Lila was crying herself. She bounced the baby, trying to console him even though her own tears were dripping on his face. “I’ll take you home with me.”
“No. Go. Be strong for William. For me. Go.”
Lila hesitated for just a moment longer when she saw it starting to happen. Genevieve was slackening right before her eyes, the life flowing from her on a final exhale.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t watch this.
Lila wrenched around and fled the room. She struck the hallway wall with her shoulder and rebounded. She stumbled down the stairs and into the inn’s main room. Her foot caught one of the chairs, and she started to fall.
Arms swept around her, holding her up. “I got you,” Lyda said in her rough voice. “Get your feet under you, now. There.”
Lila staggered upright and lowered her head, hiding her face behind her hair. There wasn’t anything she could do to prevent herself from weeping openly before this rough stranger.
“Here, sit in this chair.” Lydia pulled it over and pressed her down into it. “Gather yourself, girl. You can mourn later on. You got a baby now, and he’s helpless as heck. Be strong for him.”
Lila nodded along to the other woman’s words. She had to focus on William and what he needed. “G-Genevieve said to keep him safe.”
“And you will, girl, you will.”
I will. I’ll do everything I can, and I will keep him safe.
Lydia crouched down, and Lila got her first proper look at her. She leaned back in shock as she saw that the other woman wasn’t nearly as old as she had first assumed. Underneath the dirt and cigarette smoke stains was a relatively youthful face with only a few wrinkles.
“I will see to it that your sister is taken care of,” Lydia said. “If you sit here a minute, I’ll bring you a bag with some food in it. And I have a baby of my own, a little older than yours there. I can feed yours one final time before you get on the road to wherever you’re goin’.”
Lila stared down at William’s face. She had been so focused on getting all the way here that she hadn’t considered how she was going to get back home. She didn’t have any food left and nothing at all for the baby.
“Thank you,” Lila said. She stroked William’s tuft of dark hair and sniffled. “Why are you bein’ so kind to us?”
“It’s a hard world, and we’re all the kindness we got.” Lydia held out her arms. “Let me take him, and I’ll feed him and get you that food. Alright?”
Lila tightened her hold around the baby. “I’ll come and help you. Thank you.”
It would be wrong to let a stranger have William right after Genevieve just entrusted him to Lila. She needed to stay near him to protect him.
“Alright. Suits me just fine.” Lydia held up her hands. “Come into the back with me, then.”
Lila stood from the chair and followed her. Even though moving into the back brought her near to the stairs and nearer to her sister, she could already feel herself moving further away, thinking ahead. Not too far ahead, though. She had to get them both back to Petersburg before she could even consider what she would say to Cade.