Sixteen Brides (32 page)

Mama clutched her arm. “There’s something wrong with Hettie,” she said, and sprang up to weave her way through the crowd.

Ella followed. Together they made their way to Hettie’s side. She didn’t seem to notice them. She was staring at the passengers climbing down from the specially outfitted wagon the new hotel sent to meet every train.

“What is it, dear?” Mama said, and reached to take Hettie’s hand.

Hettie didn’t answer, merely stared openmouthed at the man limping toward them from the hotel. He looked significantly older than Hettie, but no less amazed. He stumbled as he crossed the street, regained his balance, and frowned as he looked from Hettie to Zita to Ella and back to Hettie.

Finally, Hettie reacted. Clasping Zita’s hand, she ducked behind Ella. That simple act transformed Ella from onlooker to protector, a role Ella accepted willingly. For once, she was grateful for her imposing size. She took a step forward, not saying anything, just taking up her station.

“Please,” the man said, and motioned for Ella to step aside. But she could sense Hettie behind her. She could almost feel her trembling.

“State your business, sir. You’ve upset my friend.”

The man cleared his throat. “Gates,” he said. “Dr. Forrest Gates.”

“I see. And your business in Plum Grove?”

“Business? I could ask you the same thing, madam.”

“You could, but you didn’t. You’ve upset my friend. So I ask again. Please state your business.”

The man thought for a moment. “My business is with the lady standing behind you. As I said before, I’m Dr. Gates. Forrest Gates. And Hettie is my wife.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX

And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another,
even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

EPHESIANS 4:32

I
s what he’s saying true?” Zita asked. “Is this man your husband?”

From where she stood half-hidden behind Ella, Hettie answered, “Y-yes.” Ella stepped aside then, and Hettie felt herself curl inward. Her head went down, her shoulders rounded. This must be what it felt like to be an animal caught in a trap.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Forrest said. “Hettie . . . I . . . I’m so sorry. When I got to Denver and Aunt Cora said she hadn’t heard from you—”

“Y-you’ve been to Denver?”

“I’ve been everywhere I knew to go.” He brushed his palm across his forehead. “Oh, Hettie . . . I thought I’d lost you. When I thought I’d lost you—”

He took a step forward. Hettie took a step back. Closer to Ella.

“You need to stay over there,” Ella said.

“And you need to stay out of the business between a man and his wife.”

“Hey!” Zita pointed at him. “We don’t know you, but we do know Hettie—”

“—apparently not very well if you didn’t know she was married.” Forrest took another step toward them, only to come face-to-face with Jeb Cooper, who spread one hand across his chest and propelled him backward three steps while warning him to calm down. Hettie took a deep breath and stepped out from Ella’s shadow.

Ella took her arm. “You need to talk to us,” she said. “Now.”

“Over there.” Hettie tipped her head toward the darkened storefronts on the opposite side of Main.

“I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Hettie,” Forrest said. “I’ve never laid a hand on you and I never would. I love you. I want—” His voice broke. “I just want you to come home.”

Just the mention of the word brought back the searing memory of that house and the last time they’d been in it together. Hettie could see it as if it had just happened yesterday. The black crepe on the door . . . the chairs lining the parlor . . . and that small casket. She took a breath and failed to stifle the sob. “I’ll
never
go back there.”

Forrest took a deep, shuddering breath and bowed his head. “All right. I can understand that. I haven’t been able to stay there, either. We can go anywhere. Anywhere you say. Just . . . oh . . . I’m so glad I finally found you.”

She felt herself sway and for a brief moment thought she might faint, but Ella grabbed her on one side and Zita on the other, and together they walked her to the edge of the boardwalk and made her sit down.

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Zita said, and bustled off.

Hettie waited in uncomfortable silence, not knowing what to say, what to do. She wanted to order Forrest to get away from her, to leave her alone, to go away and never come back again. If it weren’t for the new life growing inside her, that’s exactly what she would have done just now. She had no intention of ever going back to Forrest, but the baby made a difference. Taking a deep breath, she stood up.

“I want you to stay away from me,” she said as calmly as she could. “Yes, you’ve found me, and I can’t deny you’re my husband. That means I have to decide what to do. But I cannot do this tonight. I just can’t.” She leaned into Ella. “Please, Ella. Please . . . can we go home?”

She sensed rather than saw whatever it was that passed between Ella and Jeb Cooper. But when Ella put her arm around Hettie’s shoulders and led her away, Hettie felt confident that whatever else might happen, Forrest would not bother her again tonight. He wouldn’t try to follow her home; he wouldn’t try to force her to talk to him. For that, she thanked God and Jeb Cooper.

Jeb and Matthew came back to work at Four Corners. They put the roof on the fruit cellar and installed a door. They laid in stone steps and put up shelves. At times, Ruth found herself wishing she could go down into that cellar, to cool off and have some time alone to sort out her feelings. Because of the blistering heat and the never-ending work, no one noticed that Ruth wasn’t herself, and she was grateful. The truth was so laughably immature she would have had to lie.

Just because Lucas Gray had bared his soul to her a few times; just because Ruth had finally realized that Caroline wasn’t the least bit interested in Lucas but was falling in love with Matthew; just because Lucas had put his hand at her waist and blathered on about how he’d changed and realized that “first-sight sizzle” wasn’t real love; none of that meant that Lucas was interested in Ruth Dow as anything but Jackson’s mother and a good friend. It was embarrassing to feel like her middle-aged heart had been broken. It was ridiculous the way she reacted when Jackson told this story or that about his time on the ranch. At times Ruth almost held her breath, waiting for the boy to mention Lucas. Then when he did, she felt foolish for the way her heart lurched . . . for the way she savored thoughts of Lucas . . . and the way she loved hearing how much Jackson admired him.

Tonight, thoughts of Lucas kept Ruth awake as her mind wandered through the tangle of reasons why having allowed herself to be attracted to him was so ridiculous. Thank goodness he had no idea how she felt. She reached under her pillow for the note he’d sent with Jackson—the note Jackson had forgotten to give her until very late the night of the Fourth.

I have some pressing matters I have to attend to before I can make it into Plum Grove. If they aren’t handled by the Fourth, I hope you’ll forgive me for not showing up. Please send word about the cattle with Pete. Your friend . . . Lucas.

He was her
friend
, and thank God for that. After four hours of mental anguish, Ruth gathered up her blanket and pillow, crept outside, and
did
go down the stairs to the still-empty fruit cellar. The room was cool and dark and blessedly private. Spreading out her comforter, Ruth sat down and, burying her face in her pillow, cried and cried and cried. She’d worn a new dress for him. She was such a fool. Finally, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Ella did her best to give Hettie time, but when several days came and went and still she’d said nothing about the husband waiting at the hotel in town, she nearly forced the issue, but Mama told her to wait.

“How long? I don’t think Dr. Gates is going to just sit at that hotel forever.”

Mama shrugged. “Maybe he’ll wait longer than you think. By now he’s probably heard that his wife is staying with those crazy women out at Four Corners. I doubt he wants to be the next man hauled into town tied to a kitchen chair. I suspect he’ll wait at least a few more days.”

Mama was right. There was no word from Dr. Gates, and after supper on Monday, Hettie was finally ready to talk. She asked Jackson to give them privacy, and once he’d gone outside, she took a deep breath and said, “Y-you all know my husband is—was—” She broke off. “My husband
is
a physician.”

“You ain’t a widow?” Sally blurted out.

Hettie looked at Ella. “You didn’t tell them what happened in town?”

“It wasn’t my place,” Ella said. “Everyone was ready to leave anyway. I just said you weren’t feeling well and we needed to get you home.”

Hettie looked at Ruth, glanced around the table, then back at Ruth. “And you haven’t told . . . the rest.”

“Of course not. I gave you my word.” She pressed her lips together and looked away.

“You ain’t a widow,” Sally repeated.

Hettie shook her head. “No.” She gulped. Glanced around the table again. “And I . . . I’m . . .” She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” There was a collective gasp, then silence.

“I know.” Hettie sounded miserable. “I told Ruth about the baby out at the ranch, but I let her think . . . I let her think what you all thought . . . about my husband. And then Ella and Zita met Forrest, so they knew I wasn’t a widow, but I didn’t tell them about the baby.”

Sally stared at Ella and Zita. “You knew she ain’t a widow?” She glanced at Caroline. “Guess you and me is the only ones that didn’t know nothin’.” She shook her head, then sat quietly, chewing on her bottom lip and frowning.

Hettie apologized. “I . . . I’m sorry. I tried not to lie. Exactly. I just . . . I just had to let you all think . . . for a while . . .” She looked Ella’s way. Pleading, Ella thought.

“Do you want me to tell what I know?” When Hettie nodded, Ella spoke up. “Most of you didn’t see the hotel wagon bring the passengers over from the depot.”

“I saw it,” Sally said. “I just didn’t pay much attention.”

Ella nodded. “Yes. Well. One of the passengers was Dr. Forrest Gates.”

“Raines is my m-maiden name,” Hettie said.

“Apparently Dr. Gates has been looking for Hettie with some degree of dedication ever since she left St. Louis.”

“That’s why you were so interested in watching the trains come and go,” Caroline said with a little frown.

Hettie nodded. “But Forrest h-hasn’t been looking for me all these months. H-he’s only been looking since . . . since he sobered up.”

“Ah,” Ella said. “I didn’t know that part.” Hettie motioned for her to continue. “Dr. Raines said he’d already taken the train to Denver, expecting to find Hettie at her aunt’s home there. When the aunt hadn’t heard from her—”

“Aunt Cora?” Ruth broke in.

“Yes. I didn’t write her because I didn’t want her to know where I was. In case Forrest asked about me. She needed to be able to say she hadn’t heard from me.”

“So when you told me you were pregnant at the ranch, and when you said your aunt had ‘strong opinions’ about things, that wasn’t about your being pregnant at all. What you really meant was that she would have insisted you return to your husband—who is very much alive.” Ruth’s tone wasn’t exactly accusing, but it wasn’t sympathetic, either.

Hettie nodded. “But, of course, Aunt Cora couldn’t tell Forrest anything. So he started retracing his steps, stopping in every town between Denver and home, asking questions. Over in Cayote he heard about a lady doctor who was new in Plum Grove and who’d tended a rancher with a broken leg. S-so he came here. Hoping, he says.” She still sounded miserable. “I really am sorry.” She looked at Ruth. “What I told you at the ranch was true. I
had
bought a ticket all the way to California. I never even meant to stop in Nebraska. But then . . . you were all so nice.” Her voice wavered and she fell silent.

“So now you’re going back to your husband,” Ruth said.

“No!” Hettie fiddled with her glasses. “I can’t. Not now. Not ever.”Caroline asked, “Does he know about the baby?”

Hettie shook her head.

“A man deserves to know he has a child,” Ruth said.

“Forrest doesn’t. He drank. He drank every day.”

“Did he hit you when he was drunk?” Sally spoke up. “Because if he hit you, he don’t deserve nothin’.”

“No . . . that’s not it. Forrest was never violent. Ever.”

“All right,” Sally said. “But a drunk don’t deserve a kid, either.”

“But what if he’s stopped drinking?” Mama asked gently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hettie insisted. “We had a child. A boy.” T ears began to slide down her cheeks. “H-his name was Oliver. We named him for my father. He . . . he’s gone. Dead.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “And Forrest is to blame.”

While the ladies sat in stunned silence, Hettie struggled to regain her composure. Finally, Ruth took a deep breath and reached over and took Hettie’s hand. “It’s going to be all right. I told you that at the ranch and nothing has changed. You shouldn’t have lied to us, but you were afraid.” Ruth exchanged glances with the others. “We all know what it’s like to be afraid.” She squeezed Hettie’s hand. “And we’re still your friends. We’re still going to help if we can. But you have to help
us
understand. You have to tell us everything.”

Hettie took a deep breath. When Mama set a glass of water in front of her, she took a sip. “Forrest started taking Oliver along with him on calls when Oliver was only six years old. Barely old enough to know anything. Of course he liked being with his father, but . . . he was too young. I told Forrest he was too young, but he just wouldn’t listen.” She paused.