… Amelia has been asking about you, wondering when you’ll come to your senses and return to St. Louis. I told her I simply did not know. I hope and pray you’ll see your place is here, not in that wild and Godless place.
I remain always,
Your loving mother
P.S. There is still time for you to take the train back and be here for Christmas.
Christmas.
Will smiled and folded the letter, shaking his head as he did so. Christmas was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. Not that he didn’t want to celebrate. There wasn’t much hubbub here, no displays in shop windows like he’d seen on a visit to New York City while in law school. The Jackson General Store carried a few gift-type items, but the prices on some items made shopping a bit prohibitive at times, as anything and everything had to be literally carted over the pass from Idaho.
He remembered his favorite Christmas present from the old days, as he used to call them. His father had hand carved a prancing horse from a single piece of mountain ash, had buffed and oiled the wood until it glowed. The horse, a handmade woolen scarf from his mother, and a small sack of candy were his gifts that year. The last Christmas with his father.
Mother would be smiling if she knew his thoughts. He wanted the familiar, to look out the window and see the same landscape from his memories. But Jackson had changed, and so had he.
Yes, it was a wild place, the stuff of legend. Godless? No. He knew the scriptures. Where can I go from Your spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there.
Jackson had its rough-and-tumble reputation, but there were still good people here, and he had a chance to make a difference among them. Amelia had begged him to stay in St. Louis, but when he’d heard her and her father planning out the next half century of his life, he couldn’t breathe. The city’s buildings, too, closed in around him. Then came the arguments, him not wanting to stay and her refusing to consider the idea of moving west. He’d broken the engagement, given notice at the firm, emptied his account of his savings, and headed west to Jackson.
He’d breathed easier since.
The afternoon shadows had grown longer the closer the days slid toward December. He set the letter on his desk and stepped toward the window of the tiny one-room office. The door behind him led to a makeshift bedroom. He found the space a convenient spot to rent until his practice grew.
He gazed out the window at Jackson’s traffic, such as it was. People trying to get business done before sundown. He’d had one client today, someone wanting to prepare a will, Edgar Banks.
The start of the process itself had taken perhaps an hour, but then Edgar had remained, talking for almost an hour more. He’d known Will’s father, and Will allowed his own curiosity to be satisfied. In fact, Edgar had been the one to buy the homestead from his mother.
A familiar figure, riding a lanky chestnut astride, came into view. Emily Covington. He wondered what had brought her to town this fine afternoon. Maybe she was just like the rest of the Jackson folk, enjoying a sunny day as an excuse to leave the house.
He smiled as she kept her seat while keeping the horse reined in. A lesser rider would have been thrown. The chestnut gave a kick with its hind legs then surged forward. Emily’s lips moved. Her hat slipped from her head and dangled from a cord, slapping against her shoulders.
As if satisfied with himself, the chestnut tossed his head and continued at a trot along the street, mud flinging up from its hooves. Emily glanced in Will’s direction then maneuvered the horse to his side of the street and stopped at the hitching rail.
She dismounted then tied the lead to the post. Before leaving the street, she gave the horse a pat on the nose. Then she scaled the steps to the office door where Will had hung a simple hand-painted sign: WILLIAM ADAMS, JR. ATTORNEY AT LAW.
He answered the door after her soft knock.
“Miss Covington. Please, come in.” Will took a step back so Emily could enter the office.
“Thank you.” She wore trousers, a long overcoat, and a brown hat that dangled down her back. Her dark hair hung in a long braid, several shades darker than her boots.
Will tried not to stare; it wasn’t the first time he’d seen a woman in trousers, but after years of city life, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of her. Wild, western. Lovely, almost as lovely as she’d appeared the evening of the town forum.
“So, what brings you to town today?”
“Errands at the general store for Mother. And Pa, too. I’m on my way to pick up the mail; Pa asked that I stop in and see if you can come to the house to help him with some paperwork. He didn’t say exactly what but wants to know if you can come a week from Friday.”
“I can do that. Morning, or afternoon?”
“Afternoon, if possible. Perhaps around two o’clock or so?”
“I can put that on my schedule.” He moved to his desk. Not that his schedule was full, by any means, but keeping a calendar would be a good habit as his practice grew.
“Good. Pa will be glad about that.”
“I’m glad to help him. I should say that’s some young colt you were riding in on today.”
“It’s a filly; we call her Cinnamon. She’s four, still a bit green. But I wanted to give her a ride out to town. She’s sassy, but she’s learning fast.” Emily went to the window and looked down toward the street.
He joined her at the window. Cinnamon stood at the hitching rail, occasionally stomping one hoof or giving a swish of her tail.
“I’ve been meaning to ask your father about buying a horse from him, or if he knows anyone with a good mount. I’ve borrowed and rented a horse, here and there, when I need to go out to ranches. But I’m at the point now when I could use a horse. In the spring, that is.”
“He should know someone. I’ll mention it to him at supper tonight.”
“Thank you.” It was a flimsy excuse. He could have asked any number of people about buying a horse, including Edgar or even Sven Olsen, but he trusted Zebulon Covington’s judgment. “Well, thank your father for me, also, about the opportunity to do business with him.”
“I will.” She paused, then opened her mouth to continue, then closed it again as if reconsidering her next words.
“Yes? Were you going to say something else?”
“Ah, I’m sure Mother won’t mind if you stay for supper. I’ll … I’ll have some work with the dogs to do, but it would be very nice to see you at supper.” Her cheeks bloomed a deep shade of pink.
“Why, I’d like that very much, too.” He watched a wagon pass by, the driver reining in the team. Gus Tolliver came over the pass. And sitting next to him, wide-eyed and chattering away, sat Amelia Clark.
What on earth? Surely his eyes deceived him.
“Wonder why they’re stopping here.” Emily glanced his way. She probably saw his dismay, shock, as Amelia stepped down from the wagon with Gus’s assistance. Amelia squinted up at the building. Her face brightened and she waved.
“That’s …”
Footsteps sounded on the steps as Amelia made quick work to get to the door.
It opened and she stepped inside, accompanied by a swirl of cold air.
“William, I made it.” Amelia shut the door firmly behind her. “Mr. Tolliver is taking my bags to the inn, but I thought I would stop here first.”
Emily’s gaze bored into him. “William?”
“Ah, Emily Covington, this is Amelia Clark.”
“Good afternoon.” Amelia’s gaze traveled from Emily’s braid, her hat askew, until it settled on the hem of her trousers and her boots’ toes. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you.” Emily inclined her head briefly.
“I’m William’s fiancée.”
“I see. I wasn’t aware William had a fiancée.” Emily’s voice held the slightest edge. Her eyes held a hint of white-blue lightning that only Will could recognize. She nodded at him. “Mr. Adams, we’ll see you next Friday at the ranch, if not at church service on Sunday.”
She left, allowing a fresh blast of cold air into the office.
Emily knew she shouldn’t be angry. Yet she feared the piles of snow might melt as she passed them on the way to the hitching rail. Cinnamon tugged on the lead.
“Hang on, Cinnamon. We’ll be out of here, lickety-split.” She slung the lead over the saddle horn before gathering the reins and sticking her foot in the stirrup then swinging up onto Cinnamon’s back. She ought to have done the errands first, and she’d be on her way back home. But no, she had to ride to the general store yet and get the shopping done.
Fiancée. He’d never mentioned a fiancée to her, not during the months he’d been in Jackson. If he was engaged, surely he’d have mentioned it to someone in Jackson?
She allowed her anger to burn out as she exhaled. Thankfully, Cinnamon’s moments of friskiness were over, for now anyway. She nodded to the Olsens, passing by on their sleigh, the one with the cushioned seats. The couple had been her parents’ friends since before she was born, yet they still exchanged glances as if they’d been courting for mere weeks.
She hadn’t seen glances like that between Will and Amelia, but if he’d found his match, she would wish him well. No matter that since the night of his rescue in the hills, she’d scarcely been able to keep him out of her mind. Well, she’d let the thoughts go.
All this time, all these years, she’d spurned the attentions of eligible men in Jackson. There went one now, tipping his hat to her as he rode by. A woman had to have standards, something her mother always told her. Pa didn’t say much about her lack of finding a husband, but as the years ticked along, she imagined Pa had to be a bit concerned. Twenty-eight on her next birthday, and she was a bit “long in the tooth,” as the whisper had come from the next aisle in the store one day.
They plodded through the mixture of slush and mud, all the way to the livery, where Emily would keep Cinnamon while she shopped in the store. Mother needed a few things and the weather was good, so Emily could cover the miles back and forth from town without a problem. Today, she’d take the dogs out for a run before supper.
She made quick work at getting Cinnamon settled in a stall then headed for the store. Some salt, other spices, and a sack of flour. Mother intended to begin baking soon, for Thanksgiving next week then Christmas after that.
Emily entered the general store, welcomed by a blast of warmth from the cast-iron stove.
“Howdy.” Tom, the shopkeeper, looked up from his place at the counter. “See you made it in on this fine day.”
“Yes, sir. Mother needs a few things, so I offered to come to town.” She wandered over toward the bolts of cloth and touched a deep burgundy muslin. It would make a lovely skirt to go along with her favorite shirtwaist for Sunday mornings. She could always make something out of denim, a split skirt, which would be ladylike and yet more practical than the pretty muslin in front of her.
“The cloth’s new, came on one of the most recent shipments. How much do you want?”
“None today, but thank you. I’d best get my list taken care of, Tom.”
“You just say the word, and I’ll get it all tallied for you.”
“Thanks.” Emily pulled the list from her coat pocket and set to work. Daylight was burning and she needed to head home, and to forget about William Adams being engaged.
Less than thirty minutes later, in record time for her, she had her purchases in a burlap sack she’d attached to the rear of the saddle, along with a sack of flour. She headed away from Jackson. She didn’t even glance at Will’s tiny storefront office as she passed, although she might have heard someone calling out her name.
Home. She needed to be home. Mother would hear her out, as she always did.
But part of her had allowed herself to imagine a life with Will, here in the West. He’d returned—not for her, but for whatever part of his life here he’d missed the most. Perhaps she’d been fooling herself to believe part of the reason was her.
Somebody was hightailing it out of town behind her, the trotting horse’s hooves making a squishing sound on the trail.
“Emily Covington, would you slow down for a moment?”
Will.
She reined in Cinnamon, pivoting the horse to face back toward Jackson. “What do you want, Will?”
“I need to explain.” His horse halted beside Cinnamon.
“You found a horse awfully fast.” She studied the scrappy-looking gray, one of the horses from the livery.
“I borrowed it. I tried to get to the livery before you left.”
“Will, it’s all right. You don’t have to explain. I wish I’d known about Amelia, but I do wish you both the best. When is the wedding? Will it be here, or back East?” She let the words stream out then stopped herself. She sounded like a child and had no reason to be testy.
“Amelia was my fiancée. I broke our engagement not long before I moved to Jackson. But she and my mother remain very close.”
“Evidently she believes you’re still engaged.”
“She wants to see how life is here in Jackson, to show me she’s up to the challenge. It was one of the things we disagreed about. She didn’t want to move to Jackson.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s staying at Ma Reed’s, where the Crabtrees are renting her a room. I suggested she check with them, as I didn’t want her wandering through Jackson, not knowing anyone else.”
Emily nodded. “Good idea.” She remained silent. He’d given her his explanation. So he wasn’t engaged. But then Miss Amelia Clark intended to stay, presumably to win back Will.
“I don’t know how long she’s going to stay.” Will frowned. “I’m going to persuade her it’ll be best for her to head back over the pass, to the train, and out of here. She has no idea what winters are like in this part of the country. She said the snow is beautiful, and what fun it would be to take a sleigh ride through the Elk Sanctuary.”
“If she doesn’t leave soon, she could be trapped here for the winter.” Cinnamon took a few steps sideways, but Emily quieted him. “Unless that’s what you want.”
Will stared at his mount’s mane.
Say something.
But she had no right to demand any answer or explanation. Maybe she’d imagined the possibilities between them. Imagining could be a dangerous thing. She had too much to do to waste time on imagining.
Cinnamon took a few jogging steps, jolting her. “I should go. Cinnamon’s carrying more of a load than usual today with this flour, and I have chores to see to.”
Before Will could say anything more, she set Cinnamon into a trot and headed toward home.