The Journey of Josephine Cain (46 page)

This was news. “How do you know?”

“I don’t. But he and his gang are responsible for at least a dozen graves.” She sighed and picked up a pebble, moving it from one palm to the other. “We’re all hoping the vigilantes will get ’em. Though that won’t stop another bunch from coming in to make trouble.”

“You are so matter-of-fact.”

“It ain’t called the Wild West for no reason.”

“Then why are you here?”

Vera raised a neatly plucked brow. “I could ask you the same question. A store? Pardon me for asking, but what do you know about running a store in a town like Laramie?”

Josephine considered defending herself, but for some reason, could not. “Not a thing.”

Vera laughed. “The West makes a lot of people do things they’ve never done before.”

Josephine wondered if Vera’s profession was included in that statement.

But Vera moved on. “Lewis came to me yesterday afternoon, all upset about your run-in at the bridge.”

“He told you about that?”

“He told me about a lot of things.” She threw the pebble away and brushed her hands as if brushing away the
things
Lewis had told her. “He was one complicated man.” She snickered. “But aren’t they all.”

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t known many men—” Her words carried a meaning she hadn’t intended, and she felt herself blush.

“Don’t worry. I know what you meant. And truthfully, I haven’t known much about many men neither. They usually aren’t fond of talking deep about things.”

It was Josephine’s turn to laugh. “My father likes to fix things.”

“They all do, honey. But don’t hold it against them. It’s their job.”

“And what is our job? As women?”

Vera thought a moment. “To love and nurture them in spite of their fixing.”

Josephine adjusted her bottom on the rock. “You said Lewis died because of you? That’s not true. He died because of me—because of my public tirade against him.”

Vera shrugged. “You lit the spark, and I fanned it into a flame.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him to get out and never come back.” She hung her head. “He said my brother was a poor slug who died for nothing.”

“What did he mean by that?”

Vera stood and looked to the east, her shawl pulled tight around her. “He was talking about all soldiers who fought in the war.” She turned back to Josephine. “I’m sure that not every soldier—on either side—totally believed in what he was fighting for. They risked their lives because it was their duty to fight for a cause. Lewis was a coward who fought for no one but himself.”

“My brother died too,” Josephine said softly.

Vera’s forehead crumpled, and her eyes filled with tears. “They didn’t die for nothing. They didn’t.”

Josephine went to her, and the two women embraced, rocking to the rhythm of their common sorrow.

Aunt Bernice swatted Hudson on the back with a towel. “What are you doing, staring out the window? She’ll be back.”

“She’s talking to Vera,” Nelly said. “I hope they like each other. They’re both nice ladies.”

“Hush, girl,” Frieda said.

“Well, they are.”

Hudson turned his back to the glass. “I need to leave town.”

They all stopped working. “You can’t leave Josephine now,” Aunt said. “She will be heartbroken. She cares for you so much and—”

He raised a hand to stop her words. “I’m not leaving for good. And I care for her too. I need to go to the end of the line, to find her father and . . .” He grinned. “You know.”

Aunt Bernice gasped, then encased him in a hug. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

“What?” Nelly asked. “What’s going on?”

Was Nelly old enough to keep a secret?

“Tell me!” she said.

He put his hands on her shoulders. “I am going to General Cain to ask him for his daughter’s hand.”

“Why do you want her hand? Doncha want all of her?”

They all laughed, and Hudson pinched her chin. “Yes, I do. But I want to ask the general for her hand in marriage.”

“Oh,” she said, finally understanding. “She didn’t say nothing about you two getting hitched.”

“That’s because I haven’t asked her yet.”

Frieda pointed a finger at Nelly. “It’s a secret. Josephine can’t know anything about it until Hudson comes back and formally proposes.”

Nelly looked to Hudson, and he nodded. “It’s very important she not know anything about why I’ve left or what I’m planning to do.”

“All right.”

Hudson blinked. “That’s it?”

Nelly made a disgusted face. “You want me to promise on a stack of Bibles and cross my heart and hope to die?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Good. ’Cuz I can keep a secret as well as any of you. Just you watch.”

He was counting on it.

Comforted by her talk with Vera, Josephine was eager to get home.

Home? Did she really consider the store home?

It was all she had since she’d burned her bridge back in Washington. She had cut her ties with that old life, and the old Josephine. In a way, Lewis’s death provided the nail in that coffin. Now it was time to move forward with the store and with the family she’d brought with her.

And Hudson. Oh yes, with Hudson.

Turning onto Second Street, she remembered seeing the body of the Kid. Was he being buried in the same cemetery as Lewis?

She shook the discomforting thought away. Happy thoughts. Positive thoughts. That was the plan.

Josephine found the door of the store open to the nice day. Hudson had just finished building a narrow table to use as a counter, and set it upright.

Nelly saw her first, and pointed. “Look! A real table.”

“It’s a piece of art.”

Hudson wiped the top with a rag. “It’s a table.”

From the other side of the store, she saw Aunt Bernice and Frieda with the sleeves of their dresses rolled up. They were setting a shelf on some new brackets on the wall. “Voilà!” Aunt said. “A shelf. The first of many.”

Nelly flitted between them. “Auntie even cut the board herself.”

Aunt flexed her arm. “I am stronger than I look.”

“I think we all are,” Josephine said. She took off her hat and began to roll up her own sleeves.

But then Hudson came close. “Can I speak with you alone?”

Josephine glanced at the ladies, but they looked away, as if they knew what he was going to say.

What
was
he going to say? By his demeanor it couldn’t be good.

Hudson led her outside, around the corner. Then he faced her. “First off, let me tell you how much I care for you.”

“Uh-oh,” she said. “A preamble like that can only lead to something bad.”

He smiled. “It’s not bad, it’s just . . .” He took a deep breath and let it out with a huff. “With Lewis dying, and all you must be feeling . . . would you prefer I went away for a bit?”

“I probably should want you to leave, because you are one of the main reasons I broke things off with him. He provided all the other reasons, but meeting you was the spark that started everything.” He looked stricken, and she hurried to say, “But I don’t want you to go. I have been waiting my whole life to have you here.”

He smiled. “To have
me
here, when we only met a short time ago?”

“To have someone like you here, with me.” She looked past him toward the cemetery. “I should be crying over Lewis’s death. I should be mourning, but I’m not. What is wrong with me?”

“Would you feel better if you were wailing and keening over him?”

“No.”

“From what I’ve seen, grief is personal. It’s not something you can plan or force. No one can tell you that it’s right, or enough, or too little. Let yourself grieve as you need to grieve, and forgive yourself the rest.”

She looked into his eyes, his deep brown eyes that were so full of compassion and wisdom. “How did you get to be so smart?”

He shrugged.

She took his hand and started to lead him back to the store. “Wait,” he said, halting their walk. “I
am
going to leave town—for a short time.”

“But I want you here.”

He squeezed her hand. “I want to be here. But I need to leave Laramie and go to the end of the line. I need to finish . . . something. I’d also like to see my brother.”

“How long will you be gone?”

He pulled her close and looked down at her. “Not a minute more than necessary.”

“A whole minute?”

“Not one second.”

She could accept that.

Josephine turned over in bed and faced the window and the dark night outside. Just a few blocks away lay the body of Lewis Simmons—or Simon. Whatever his name was.

Hudson had told her to grieve in her own way. What was that way?

She had cared for Lewis. She had him to thank for getting her out of the family home. They’d shared some good times together.

But had any of it been genuine? Or was it all another lie?

All facts pointed to his wanting to marry her for shameful reasons—either for money or revenge for Papa’s part in his father’s death.

But how did he hope to gain revenge? What would have happened after they married?

It didn’t really matter. He was gone. Dead.

Was he in heaven?

She pulled her pillow into an embrace and prayed for his soul.

And her own.

“Well, look who’s here in Utah. Mr. Maguire. Back for the final push, I see. How handy to miss the tunnel and bridge work of the mountains.”

Under the scrutiny of the general’s gaze, Hudson felt his face grow hot. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

The general sat back in his chair, eyeing him. “So then. Is it you I have to thank for my daughter’s idea of starting a store?”

He smiled. “No, sir, I’m happy to say I had nothing to do with that.”

“Too bad. I think it’s a marvelous idea.” The general laughed and lit a cigar. “Relax, Maguire. I’m just chaffing you.” He pointed to the chair on the guest side of his desk. “Give me an update on Josephine.”

Hudson told him about Josie and the store. And the run-in with Lewis. And finally, his death.

The general sighed. “It embarrasses me to have been duped by him.”

“We all were. It was Josie who dug into his past and discovered the truth.”

“Josie?”

“Sorry, sir. It’s a name I’ve given to her.”

He considered it a moment, then shrugged. “It does suit her. And it’s nice to see her stepping up to find the truth. She’s showing a strength I didn’t know she possessed.”

“I think it’s a strength
she
didn’t know she possessed.”

“Well said. At any rate, many thanks for being there for her during this rough time.”

“Actually, there’s more.” Hudson confessed that his tardiness was also due to a short stay in Allegheny City. “I felt the need to settle some of my own family business.”

The general let a cloud of smoke settle between them. “And was it . . . settled?”

His tone suggested he remembered Hudson’s long-ago mention of a girl back home. “Yes, it was. I’ve cut my ties and . . .” With the chance to state things plain, he was suddenly tongue-tied.

“You want to marry my daughter.”

Relief wafted over him. “I do, sir. With your permission.”

“I guess you need to thank me for sending you back east as her escort. Love born on a train ride?”