Carol Ritten Smith (27 page)

“No. He’s happy there.”

“What about you? Are you happy?”

“Now that you’re back, I am,” she answered almost shyly.

“Mary told us you were coming in today,” Davy explained.

God bless her soul.
Tom had telegraphed just before the train departed Regina, but he never said a word to her about telling Beth when he would arrive. He was grateful she had.

He stuffed his hand down inside his trouser pocket and withdrew a shiny new nickel. He squatted down to Davy’s level. “Do you see this? I brought it all the way back from Toronto especially for you. Why don’t you go buy some candy with it?”

“Oh boy!”

Finally, they were alone, as alone as two people could get on a Saturday afternoon on the loading platform of the train station at train time. Forgetting his luggage, Tom led Beth further under the wide canopy of the station’s roof where the shadows offered privacy, albeit minimal.

“I missed you so much, Beth.” He took her hands in his, his thumbs running across her knuckles.

“And I’ve been miserable while you’ve been away.”

Tom took a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching and then kissed her lightly on her trembling lips. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed doing that. This has been the longest few weeks in my life. I thought about you every minute, wondering how you were, what you were doing, whether you would even speak to me when I returned.” He pulled her close in a breath-squeezing hug, and whispered, “Ah, Beth, I love you.”

“And I love you too,” she replied, happy tears flooding her eyes. “I was a fool to insist we stay apart.”

He released the hug and smiled. “We belong together, Beth. When I saw Abigail and her new husband at the altar I realized I want to marry you even more.”

Beth’s eyes shifted downwards. “Tom, before that can ever happen, I have things I need to tell you. Things — ”

“Okay, but not here,” Tom interrupted. “Not with everyone in Whistle Creek standing within hearing distance. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Beth nodded. “Where? Your place?”

“Or yours. I doesn’t matter.” He took her arm and they started down the boardwalk when Tom remembered he’d left his luggage sitting on the platform. “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

While Beth waited, she looked about for Davy, seeing instead a ghost from her past step down from the train.

Uncle Mead.

Alive.

In Whistle Creek.

Any relief she should had felt knowing he was alive was short-lived. Instead, a dark shadow of fear closed in upon her. What was Uncle Mead doing here?

She watched in horror as Mead grabbed Tom’s arm when they met on the platform. When Tom pointed in the direction of the livery, the ground spun and the dark shadow rose up and engulfed her.

• • •

In Doc Fisher’s waiting room, Davy sat on Tom’s knee with his face buried against Tom’s broad shoulder. “Beth’s gonna die,” he wailed. “I just know it.”

Tom did his best to comfort him. “Shhh. She just fainted, Davy. She’ll be fine.”

“No, she won’t. She’s been sick for a long time. Throwing up every morning. I know she’s gonna die.”

“Don’t worry. She — ” Tom halted mid-sentence. Had he heard Davy correctly? “What did you say?”

“She’s gonna die.”

“No, before that. Did you say she was throwing up every morning?”

Davy nodded and sucked in three jagged breaths. “Bill told her to go see the d … doctor, but she kept thinking she was getting b … better, but the next morning she’d be sick again.”

Tom cradled Davy’s head. Could it be? Their very first time? He never once considered the possibility, but after listening to Davy’s tearful account of Beth’s illness, it seemed very likely Beth was carrying his child. Tom’s heart warmed, as if the thought were a heated blanket held against his chest.
A baby. Our baby. I’m going to be a father!
Then he cautioned himself. He didn’t know for certain Beth was pregnant. Still, it was definitely possible.

Doc Fisher came from the examining room and closed the door behind him. Davy began to wail even louder, assuming the worst when Beth didn’t follow.

Tom stood, Davy’s arms and legs wrapped around him like a vine. “How is she?” Tom asked.

“Better.”

“Can we go see her?”

Doc nodded in Davy’s direction. “Just the boy. I want to have a word with you.”

“Did you hear, Davy? You can go in to see her,” Tom whispered gently in the boy’s ear.

“I can?” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Your sister is fine,” the doctor repeated, taking a seat behind his desk. “But she’s resting so you can’t stay long.”

When Davy went through into the examining room, Tom got a glimpse of Beth lying down, a white sterile sheet covering her. She was crying softly.
Crying?
Then the door shut.

Doc entered notes into a ledger, closed it and put the pen into the holder. He propped his elbows on his heavy wooden desk, rested his chin on his laced fingers, and studied Tom. “Please, sit down. There’s a few things you need to know.”

Doc’s serious tone sent ice through Tom’s veins. His heart was no longer warm, but squeezed by the cold clutches of dread. He sank into the chair, afraid to hear what Doc had to say. Maybe there wasn’t a baby. Maybe Beth was crying because of a serious illness.

Doc began. “Beth’s main problem right now is malnutrition. Unable to keep most foods down, she simply collapsed from hunger. Now, I’ve given her something to help settle her stomach, but I’d like her to stay the night so I can keep watch over her, just in case.”

Tom leaned forward, his palms sweaty. “In case what?”

“Well, she took a nasty fall when she fainted. I want to be sure there is no threat to the pregnancy.”

She is pregnant!
Tom should have been overjoyed, but his happiness was diminished remembering Beth was crying in the other room.

Doc continued, “Beth wouldn’t say, but I assume you are the father.”

“Yes. The baby is mine.”

Doc Fisher leaned back in his chair. “I don’t expect there to be any complications. Other than morning sickness, which should pass soon, Beth is healthy.”

“I want to see her.”

“I’m sorry, Tom, but you’d better not. She’s upset right now. Come by tomorrow, and if she’s better, then you can see her.”

Tom nodded and rose to leave, but Doc motioned him to sit again. He kept his voice quiet so it wouldn’t carry into the next room. “Tom, I’m not breaking any confidences when I say I know you and Abigail Craig were intimate. Half the town suspected it, but without a baby to show, they had no tangible proof. But this time is different.”

Tom knew where the doctor was heading with this conversation and it made him angry. If Beth hadn’t come to him in the night, then this morality lesson would be unnecessary.
No, dammit
, he chastised himself harshly,
I never should have allowed her into my bed. I’m the one responsible for all this!

“Don’t worry, Doc. I’ll take care of things. Beth and I will be married soon.” He stood. “Now is there anything else you wish to say or am I free to go?” he asked curtly.

Doc rose, meeting Tom eye to eye. “I’m sorry, Tom, but it’s my job to look after the welfare of my patient, first and foremost.”

Tom extended his hand and smiled sadly. “I know, Doc. I know. And thanks. I appreciate it.” He headed for the door and then stopped. “When Davy is through seeing Beth, send him to my place. He can stay with me for the night.”

• • •

“Thought you’d seen the last of me, boy?”

Bill spun about and almost dropped to his knees when he saw his uncle standing hale and hearty in the livery’s doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Bill tried to hide the panic in his voice. “Go away and leave us alone.”

“Uh uh. I didn’t travel no two hundred miles to go home empty handed. I come to take you boys back where you belong. Where’s Davy?”

“He ain’t here.”

“I kin see that! Where is he?”

Bill crossed his arms in front of him to stop them from shaking, but Mead mistook his stance as one of defiance.

“Don’t you be insolent, boy. I still have the right to take a belt to you and by cracky I will if you don’t tell me where the young’n is.”

Emmett Compel came out from the feed room. “What’s all the racket about? You’re scaring the horses.”

Mead puffed out his chest with an air of importance. “Sir, I am Mead Parkerson and this here boy is my nephew. He and his younger brother run away from me ’bout seven, eight months ago and I’m here to get them back.”

Emmett seemed unimpressed. “Listen, buster, I don’t give a cow patty if you’re the second coming of Christ. You’re scaring the horses and if you don’t leave immediately, I’ll throw you out!”

Mead face bulged with outraged. “Ain’t you been listening? I have every right to take this boy with me.”

“And I have every right to toss you out on your fat ass in the middle of the street. Now get moving!” Emmett, no small man, bellied up to Mead.

Mead, all fat and no spine, backed down. “Very well,” he huffed, “I’m gonna take this up with the authorities.” To Bill he warned, “I’ll be back for you, never you worry,” and stormed out.

“You in trouble, Bill?”

“No,” Bill answered, then rethought his answer and asked, “Mind if I quit early? I’ve got something I need to do.”

“Just finish this last bit. Then you can go.”

Ten minutes later, Bill hammered on Beth’s door, once, twice, and then poked his head inside. “Beth? You home?” He was met by silence.

Bill stood on the stoop.
Where was she?
He needed to warn her. Suddenly he felt sick. What if Mead had come by while he was finishing up at the livery and had already taken Beth and Davy with him?

Bill forced himself to think rationally. Knowing his uncle’s penchant for drinking, Mead would likely stop for a pint or two first. There was a good chance he hadn’t even been here yet. Beth and Davy were probably just out, maybe visiting Betner’s. He headed there next.

It was Mary’s suggestion he try Tom’s place, saying Tom had just returned on the afternoon train.

Bill’s knee-jerk reaction was to think they didn’t waste any time getting back together, but as he neared the Carver place, he started hoping she
was
there. Otherwise, he didn’t know what to do.

Tom answered Bill’s second knock.

“Beth here?” Bill demanded, pushing his way into the kitchen without bothering to say hello.

“No, she’s not.”

At Tom’s reply, Bill’s belligerent attitude wilted. “She isn’t?”

Tom gritted his teeth. Bill was the last person he felt up to seeing. “I thought you’d have probably heard by now. Beth fainted and she’s staying at Doc’s overnight for observation,” Tom said.

“Fainted? Beth’s never fainted before.” Bill was white and Tom wondered if he’d soon be picking a second Patterson up from the floor.

“Doc said she’d be fine.”

“Where’s Davy then?” Bill’s eyes darted nervously about the room.

“He’s upstairs sleeping. He was fairly upset.”

“Upset? What about?”

Bill’s question puzzled Tom. “About Beth fainting, of course.”

“Oh, right. Do you think Doc will let me see her? I need to talk to her.”

“He might. I don’t know.”

Bill began to back out the door, but Tom put his hand on Bill’s shoulder to stop him. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there? Maybe you’d better tell me.” He knew Beth was in no condition to be burdened further. “Come in and sit down.” He pulled out a chair at the table and then took one himself.

Bill stared for some time at his hands clasped on the table before he began carefully, “Do you remember when you once said things aren’t always black and white?”

How could Tom forget? It was the morning Bill had confronted Beth and him in the kitchen. “I remember.”

“Well, I’m thinking this is one of them gray sort of things.” He looked solemnly at Tom.

Tom steeled himself for what he was about to hear.

“Me and Davy and Beth are in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? With the law?”

“I don’t know. I thought we were. Now, I’m not so sure.”

Tom frowned. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”

“All right. First of all, our last name ain’t Patterson, it’s Parkerson. We changed it when we came to Whistle Creek.”

“Why?”

“Give me a minute. I’m getting to that part. About four years ago, our parents died in an accident — ”

“That can’t be. Beth told me they died last summer.”

Bill banged his fists against the table. “Will you shut up and listen! It was four years ago. Ma and Pa were picking up feed over at the mill and there was a dust explosion. Anyhow, after the funeral, we were sent to live with Dad’s brother and his wife in Duggan, Saskatchewan. I was twelve then, Beth was fifteen, and Davy … I guess Davy was only two.”

Tom listened silently, troubled and perplexed by what he had heard already.

“Anyway, Uncle Mead and Aunt Tilly were usually drunk. Us kids did all the work, the chores, the cookin’, the cleanin’. Everything. They didn’t do diddly. Just sat around and drank. ’Course, when they drank they were mean.” Bill stopped for a moment. Tom could tell the memories were painful to recall. “I don’t know why Uncle Mead suddenly got worse, but he’d go off crazy mad over any stupid thing. We started to be afraid he might kill us in one of his rages, so we decided to get away. Our plan was to leave in the middle of the night when Uncle Mead and Aunt Tilly had passed out. We knew where they had hid some extra money.”

Tom had questions, but he held them.

“That very evening Uncle Mead started yellin’ and hittin’ Davy for leaving marbles on the floor. It was getting pretty bad, so Beth jumped in and pushed him away. Uncle Mead fell and hit his head on the corner of the hearth. He didn’t move or nothin’. Just laid there. There was lots of blood like his head was cracked wide open. We was so scared, we grabbed the money and ran.”

Tom felt ill. Sweet mercy. Beth had killed her uncle.
And all this time she was afraid to tell anyone, even me.
It pained him that she didn’t trust him. “Where was your aunt during all this?” he asked.