Love's Story (11 page)

The two men engaged in conversation until they turned a corner and vanished down an unfamiliar side street. Meredith curtailed her conversation with the general store owner and skipped across the street toward the intersection where Mr. Talbot had disappeared. She rounded the corner in haste and, to her horror, ran smack into Mr. Talbot's broad side. With a shriek of surprise, she allowed a strong hand to steady her.

“In a hurry, Miss Mears?” Thatcher Talbot cast her a look of censure. The only establishments on this street were a men's haberdashery, a saloon, and a blacksmith shop.

Meredith saw the irony. “Excuse me, Mr. Talbot.” She released herself from his grip. “I was just out for some exercise. I'd never been this way before, and…”

“It might not be the best proximity for a lady. The main streets would be safer.”

“Yes. I'll remember that.” Her eyes darted to his companion.

“May I introduce you?”

Meredith gave the brim of her hat a push so she could better see the stranger's face.

“Mr. William Boon of Chicago, may I present Miss Meredith S. Mears.” Meredith felt the heat rise to her cheeks as Talbot overplayed her middle initial. “William is an old friend of mine, and Miss Mears is a reporter from New York City.”

Meredith detected a glint of humor in William Boon's eyes and had the distinct impression they were making sport of her. Nevertheless, she couldn't miss this opportunity to snoop.

“Are you travelling on business, then?”

“No ma'am. It's personal.”

Mr. Boon had a fair rectangular face, covered with freckles, and Meredith wondered what a few hours in the California sun would do to it.

“I'm surprised you could get the day off at the camp, Mr. Talbot.”

“It wasn't that hard. I just don't get paid.”

“Which reminds me, I should get back to my work.”

“Have a nice walk, Miss Mears.”

“A pleasure meeting you.”

“Gentlemen.”

Meredith's feet could not get her away fast enough.
Of all the embarrassing things! What could that impossible man be up to? Was his city friend an accomplice?

Once Meredith was out of sight, the two men chuckled. “You were right about her,” William said. “She was following you.”

“Nosy little thing, always probing.” Thatcher tried to put her out of his mind. “Let's go have that breakfast.”

Inside the café, the men ordered and received their meals. They fell into a comfortable conversation, and William caught Thatcher up on the news from the East.

“After Colleen left, I moped around for several months. One day it hit me. I want her back, and I'm willing to fight for her. I was a lousy husband, but I'll change if I can get her back.”

Thatcher sympathized with his longtime friend whose wife had left him. When Thatcher had left Chicago, both he and his friend's lives had been amuck.

“I hope you can find her and forgive her.”

“I've already forgiven her. Here…” William reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a small photograph of his wife. “I'd like you to have this. Perhaps it will help to locate her. Ask around whenever you get the chance. And here,” he said as he pulled out another small slip of paper. “This is my lawyer's address. You can reach me through him.”

Thatcher took the photograph and slip of paper. “She's always been very beautiful.”

“I wish I'd realized what I had before I ruined things between us.”

“I'll keep you in my prayers. You'll find her.”

William pushed back his empty plate. “What about you? How long are you going to keep running?”

“Until I can get the courage to go back and face Father.”

“He'll probably never change his business manners without your influence. He's only gotten worse with you gone.”

“I just can't handle his unethical, greedy, vindictive…” Thatcher's voice trailed off into silence.

“He has one weakness in that mean façade.”

“It's not a façade.”

“He loves you. He's falling apart without you. He rationalizes all his actions. He's meaner than ever since you've left, but there's such an emptiness, a sadness about him.”

“I don't think he could love anybody.”

“He has offered a reward for any information of your whereabouts.”

“He what?” Thatcher leaned forward and his chair scraped the floor. “How?”

“His lawyer sent out letters, inquiries. The word's out.”

“I can't believe it. Father owns everything else in Chicago, I guess he thinks he can buy me, too.”

“Maybe you should go back and get it straightened out.”

“I can't. Are you forgetting Adaline? She's a female version of Father, and he demands that I marry her.”

“Hmm. I did forget about her. I guess I was too caught up in my own problems when you left.”

“Father pressed for a marriage. He even spoke to Adaline's father. Mother arranged events to throw us together.” Thatcher shook his head. “There is no way that I will marry her.”

“So you're going to hide out until she marries someone else?”

Thatcher chuckled. “No one else will have her.”

William rapped the table with his fist. “We've gotten ourselves into some real messes, haven't we?”

“I'll pray for you, if you'll pray for me.”

“Sounds like a good place to start.”

S
everal days passed. One morning, Meredith started off for Bucker's Stand clad in her comfortable men's trousers.

Just before Meredith reached the camp, her horse stumbled on a rock and began to limp. The rooftops of the bunkhouse and mess hall were visible, not more than a mile up the road, so she dismounted and led her horse the remainder of the way.

As she approached camp, she could tell that things were in an upheaval. Men scurried, shouting orders. With concern, she tethered her horse to a post and went in search of the bull, whom she found meting out instructions with a stern voice.

As soon as there was a lull, she asked, “What's going on?”

“Accident. Don't have time.” The bull hurried past her.

“Where?” She started after him, but he paid her no heed. Then she spotted Talbot in the crowd and ran up to him. “Mr. Talbot! Where's the accident?”

“You don't want to see it.”

“But I do.”

“No.”

They glared at each other until the bull interrupted, “Talbot, go after the doctor.”

Talbot nodded, gave Meredith a final cutting look, then left for his horse.

The bull gave her a calculating look. “So you finally got your accident.”

“It's not my fault, and you know it. I only write the facts.”

“Go on, then,” he motioned. “Go watch a man die.”

Mr. Talbot approached on his horse. The bull called out after them, “Give her a ride, Talbot.”

Talbot stopped his horse and looked down at her. “Where's your horse?”

“He's picked up a stone.”

He reached down his hand and said curtly, “Come up, then.”

“No. I won't ride with you….” Her words choked off as she reminded herself,
It's for the story.
His face was unreadable, but he still offered his hand, so reluctantly she took it.

He hoisted her up behind him and nudged his horse. The animal jerked into motion, and Meredith grasped Talbot's shirt with two hands.
Men!
Even though she resented Talbot's and the bull's attitudes, she couldn't help but notice how good it felt to hold on to Mr. Talbot's solid back.

Meanwhile, Talbot was disgusted with his own awareness of the feminine body pressed up against his. Protective feelings surged up.
Why must she insist on seeing the accident? Why is she so stubborn? Couldn't she just act like a woman?
He cut his thoughts short when they rounded the next bend.

“This is it,” he said, reining in his horse. He reached back to help her dismount, but she slipped to the ground and landed hard on her bottom.

She got up and dusted off her pants. “Thank you.”

Talbot nodded then made haste for the town's doctor.

Meredith watched him go for a moment, then followed after the loggers. Once they had reached the accident, Meredith gasped ragged breaths from the exertion and hung back to recuperate.

Finally, she edged forward. It was a very young man. The one she remembered from her interviews, who reminded her of Charles. The boy had told her he worked at the camp to support his mother. The young man was pinned beneath a log that was too heavy to move with manpower. The loggers had already moved the donkey steam engine and were frantically fastening the log to its cables. She watched the scene before her, wondering how the young man could even have survived. His legs must surely be crushed.

Finally, the cable was secured. “Hang on, boy, we'll have you free in a minute. A doctor's on the way. You're gonna be just fine now.”

Words of encouragement rallied around the boy. His eyes remained closed. Meredith turned away, too anxious and nauseated to watch. She went behind the nearest tree and dropped to her knees to pray. There was a giant crashing sound, and she knew that the log had been moved. Still, she waited.

“He's gone.”

Meredith knelt behind the tree for a long time, listening to the fragments of conversation.

“Too late.”

“Could've never saved his legs.”

“Better this way.”

“Just a boy.”

“He was a good lad.”

After a time, Meredith wiped her eyes with her sleeves and, never looking back, stumbled out of the woods and onto the road. She would never forget him lying there. Once she wandered back to the camp, she remembered her horse and led him to the stables. The groom gave him a careful inspection. “He'll be fine, but you can't ride him back tonight.”

“Can I borrow a horse?”

“I'll check with the bull and be right back.”

Meredith waited, her mind reliving the scene of the accident until the groom returned and found her a mount.

On the ride back to town, the sound of approaching riders reached her, and she looked up to see a dust cloud advancing toward her. The riders pulled up beside her. It was Talbot and the doctor.

Talbot looked at her with concern. “The boy?”

“He didn't make it.”

Talbot let out a sigh of regret, and the doctor said, “I'm sorry.”

“Me, too,” Meredith shivered.

“You going to be all right?” Talbot asked. “I can ride back to town with you.”

“No. I'll be fine. I'd rather be alone right now.”

Talbot hesitated, and the doctor said, “I'll go on out to the camp, anyway.”

They separated, and Meredith continued on into town, stabled her horse, and even though it was still daylight, went straight home to bed.