Sweetwater (Birdsong Series) (6 page)

They were all silent for the moment, and then as if a candle
went on in both their heads, Patty and Blake looked at one another. Patty was
the first to ask.

“Did she know the man? She would have had to know him to
get this reaction, and obviously, she was deathly afraid of him. Blake, you’ve
got to hunt him down and find out what this is all about.”

“No,” a feeble Emily whispered. “Leave him be. Maybe it wasn’t
him. Let him leave town. Please.”

“Emmie, who did you think he was?” Blake asked.

Ignoring Blake’s inquiry, Emily raised herself up on one
elbow. “Help me to my room, Doc. I need to rest. We’ll speak about this,
later.” Trying to stand, she nearly fell back, looking for help from Blake.

As he steadied her on her feet, he had to smile, watching
his very proper Emmie reach out for the glass of whiskey. Tossing her head back,
she gulped the fiery liquid down, and brought new tears to her eyes. She ran
her delectable pink tongue across her lips and nodded. “That’s good.”

The following morning, Dora sang while she prepared
breakfast for the hotel guests, and Whiskey whistled as he worked on the front
gate. The birds sang noisily from their perches under the eaves. It was a
glorious morning; one entirely suitable to follow a most magical evening, Dora
chuckled to herself.

As she piled serving platters high with the most delectable
meats, eggs, and potato dishes possible, she said, happily, “If there’s
anythin’ you want, and you don’t see it . . . just call out. I can whip it up
in a jiffy. Pancakes and waffles, so light they nearly float off the plate,
are coming up and I got strawberries and blueberries aplenty, with clotted cream.
If anyone would prefer blackberries, just holler.” She sashayed back into the
kitchen, humming merrily.

Patty looked at Cassie. “What’s gotten into her . . . and
Whiskey, for that matter? He’s as happy as a kid playing hooky from school.”
She grinned a mischievous smile. “What do you suppose happened last night,
after the dance?”

Cassie giggled at the thought of the two older people
romancing under the stars. “Oh, Patty. That’s too unthinkable. They’re old.”

Patty laughed. “And you’re young! It would be the most
wonderful thing in the world if those two sweet and lovable people found
happiness with one another. I’d be so pleased for them. No one should live
their life alone, especially when one’s heart is as big as the two of theirs.”

“I guess you could be right. They probably do get lonely,
huh?”

Laughing, Patty agreed. “You’ll find out, someday. We all
need someone with whom to share our lives.”

“What about you, Patty? You never mention anyone special.
You never seem to want to have any fun. Don’t you get lonely?”

Patty’s eyes slowly misted over, as she thought back, many
years. “I had my one chance at love, Cassie, and I threw it all away to please
others. I’ll never know that kind of love again. His name was Andre, and I
shall continue to carry him in my heart until the day I die.”

Cassie had never known Patty to speak of her past. She was
a very private person, and this revelation of her lost love, surprised her.
She didn’t know what to say. As the young woman stood there, trying to think
of a proper response, Dr. Donovan walked swiftly, into the room.

“Morning, ladies. Have either one of you seen or spoken
with Emily this morning? After her traumatic evening, I’m somewhat worried
about her.”

Dora entered from the dining room and stopped suddenly when
she saw the look of concern on the young doc’s face. “Traumatic? What
happened to her, Doc?” Dora had arrived back from the dance, quite late, and
retired to her room without waking anyone. This was her first chance to talk
about the events of the night before.

“Please, don’t be alarmed, but it is a puzzlement, to be
sure. Last evening, as I was walking her back to the hotel, a couple of drunks
stumbled out of the Dollar Saloon. One man fell against Emmie, practically
knocking her to the ground. She wasn’t hurt, but the look on her face was
daunting. Emmie looked as if she recognized the bum, and she was terrified of
him. He was dirty and vile, but he didn’t really hurt her. She wasn’t herself
after that. I think it was simply a state of shock, but she was extremely
upset by the encounter. I need to discover his identity. Unfortunately, I was
too concerned with her welfare to get a good look at his face. If he walked in
here, right now, I doubt I’d recognize him.”

Cassie was intrigued. With eyes, as round as saucers, she
asked, “You want me to run upstairs and see if she’s awake?”

Patty placed her hand on Cassie’s shoulder, to calm the
young woman, and addressed Blake. “Dora can fix up a breakfast tray, and you
can carry it up to Emily. Being a doctor and all,” she grinned, “you can check
her out for yourself.”

He nodded. “Good. That’s a good idea. Thanks, Patty.”

Blake knocked on Emily’s door—for the third time.
Still, she didn’t answer. Balancing the food tray on one hand, he tried the
latch, allowing the door to swing open.

“Emmie? Wake up, sleepy head,” he said with feigned
frivolity. “I’ve brought you some of Dora’s finest. Got some good, strong
coffee to sweep those cobwebs away, too. Emmie?”

He set the tray down on the bureau and turned toward the
bed. She was wrapped in her spread, under several quilts. That was odd, as
the weather was quite mild for this time of year.

“Emmie?” An unsettled feeling overcame Blake, as he stepped
closer to the pile of bed linens. He knew the truth before he pulled them
back, exposing an empty bed. There was no indentation in the soft mattress.
She had never slept there, last evening.

He rummaged through the drawers and the wardrobe. What did
she take with her, he wondered? It appeared that most of her clothing was
still there. He sighed with relief. At the very least, she had not planned to
stay away for any length of time. But where did she go?

Running down the stairs, he got the attention of the three
women, conferring behind the front desk. They all looked up with inquisitive
faces.

“Emmie’s gone,” he announced. “She didn’t sleep here, last
night. Where would she have gone and why would she leave without telling
anyone?” Panic was starting to set in. The longer she was away, the greater
her chance of coming to some physical harm. “I’ve got to find her.”

Dora, always the voice of reason, spoke firmly. “Blake.
Sit down!” She pointed to the settee. She could be quite stern, when needed,
and now was one of those times when it was required. “You’ll sit there ‘til
you calm down, ya’ hear? You’re not goin’ to find her, runnin’ off half-cocked
like that. I’ll ask Whiskey to nose around town. Somebody’s bound to have
seen her. Everyone knows her on sight. She can’t hide for long. I think she
probably just wanted to think about things. A woman has to do that, from time
to time. You need to see if you can find those two varmints from the Dollar.
Ask them what they’re doin’ in town and when they plan to leave. Don’t mention
Emily! No need to give them an advantage. She might not want them to know it
was her, they saw.” With her arms folded across her chest, she tapped her foot
silently, on the soft rug. “Doc, you better now?”

He nodded. “You’re right, Dora. I’d be much obliged if you
could get Whiskey going. I’m really frightened for her.” His eyes were red
and she noticed his strong hands were trembling.

Dora walked over and put her big arms around his shoulders,
burying his head in her ample bosom. “You’re a good boy, Doc. Everything will
work out,” she said, patting him on the back.

Blake gasped for air, as the kind woman released her hold on
him. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

He got to his feet and smiled reassuringly. “I’m all right
now. I’ll find those two miserable cowards and make them pay for upsetting
Emmie. Then I’ll bring her home.” He left, leaving the doors wide open.

Dora had no doubt he’d do just as he’d sworn to do. The
resolute look in his eyes said everything. It would be foolhardy to get in his
way. “Go get her, Doc,” she whispered.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky when Emily finally opened her
eyes. She stretched her arms high above her head and wriggled down into the
soft, warm covers. It was pure heaven, lying there, looking up at the beamed
ceiling above the big brass bed, upon which she had slept the night away.
Shafts of warm, golden sunshine streamed in through the floor to ceiling window
and darted through the charming room, lighting every corner. Tiny dust motes
danced in the soft breeze.

Everywhere she looked, she discovered a treasure so unique,
and of obvious importance to the owners of this cottage. Items appeared to be
handcrafted with love and much expertise. The sheets were well made and
embroidered with monograms and flowers—masculine in design, with just a
touch of feminine whimsy for softness. Romance was all about her. It was a
cottage filled with the memories of a great love.
If only the house could speak
, she mused.

Stretching, once again, Emily sat up and slowly threw off
the coverlet. She decided to spend the day dusting. She’d dust and polish
every surface in her cottage. It would soon shine with the love she had for
it. Emily decided that she would stay here, on her farm, until the sheriff
came to arrest her. She would not willingly leave of her own accord. Her eyes
darted to the corner of the room, just beside the door. Whiskey’s loaded
shotgun rested securely against the wall. It gave her confidence, knowing she
would not be totally defenseless if someone should come around . . .
if he
should come around.

Dressed only in her nightgown, Emily walked to the front
door, her bare feet padding lightly across the smooth waxed floorboards.
Standing on the broad front porch, she looked out across the yard and beyond
the lake. Inhaling deeply, she caught the fragrance of the wildflowers growing
along the banks. Emily imagined her roses and lilac bushes encircling both
ends of the porch, filling the air with their highly aromatic scents, spring
and summer. She’d have trumpet vines climbing the split rail fence, just for
the hummingbirds. Since this was Kansas, sunflowers would dot all the fields,
bringing the red-winged blackbirds, she loved so much. Meadowlarks, robins,
and goldfinches were plentiful, as well. Maybe she’d be able to build a martin
house. She had seen them on farms and delighted in their noisy colonies.

“Freedom,” she sighed, as she gloriously spun around in a
circle, hands held high above her head. Her heart felt light for the first
time in years—maybe for the first time ever. The farm was magical.

Then she did the strangest thing. Emily leaned toward the
doorjamb and gave it a little kiss. “I love you,” she whispered. Then she
smiled at her childishness. Thank goodness no one was around to see her act in
such a peculiar manner; but she really did love her home.

As if on cue, two gray geese waddled across the yard,
followed by their fuzzy goslings. The darker one stared at her and honked.
Emily wasn’t certain if that was a greeting or a warning. Then, the second
goose followed suit. It honked . . . twice. Before long, a goosey cacophony
of sounds filled the air.

“Well, get used to me. I’m here to stay and you’re welcome
to stay, too,” she shouted, just before she shut the door, laughing at herself.
Now she was talking to irate geese. The day was getting better and better,
she thought. Next thing, she’d be having complete conversations with herself.

Looking about the neat cottage, she found cleaning rags suitable
for polishing. She found all the brooms and mops, that she’d need for
cleaning, organized and kept neatly in a storeroom. The house was amazingly
well stocked. Although it had been abandoned for years, it was almost as if
the owners had just gone into town for the day, and would return in time for
supper. That thought was kind of sad, Emily felt. Looking around, she
couldn’t help but wonder,
“Who were you?
Where did you go?”

Emily took stock of the things she had on hand, and the
things she would need to purchase. Most of her money was in the bank, back in
Hays City, and she wasn’t certain how she could obtain the necessary funds
without being seen by her friends. She told herself that she was not really
hiding from them, but simply trying to straighten things out in her own head.
Secretly, she knew the truth. She was exactly where she had wanted to be, for
such a very long time, and she was definitely hiding from her terrifying past.
How could she risk going back into town?

It had been a full and satisfying day for Emily—the
first day on her farm. As she bolted the door and checked the shotgun’s
readiness, she stopped to listen to the absolute quiet. Back at the hotel,
there were always the sounds of the guests talking and moving about. The
nearby saloons made a racket all of their own, with bawdy laughter and gay
music pouring out onto the streets. Horses and wagons rattled by and children
squealed with joy. Once in a while, the report of gunfire shattered the daily
sounds of the city.

Tonight, Emily could hear the frogs croaking at the edge of
the lake, with the sound of a splash, now and then. When she peered out the
door, just before locking up for the evening, she gladly noted the family of
geese sleeping on her porch, under the chairs. Geese were as good as any
watchdog, she thought, and they kept her from feeling lonely. “Good night,”
she said, softly, before bolting the door.

Turning down the lamps, she walked softly back to the
bedroom. She undressed in the relative darkness, and turning back the covers,
she took delight in the cool, silkiness of the sheets. Just before she closed
her eyes, Emily heard the sound of a hoot owl, wishing her
“sleep well”.
Still smiling, her breathing became soft and
regular, as she drifted off to continue dreaming about her beloved farm.

*

Blake was frantic. Emily had been gone for days. He wasn’t
eating or sleeping. He had turned over the care of all, but his most seriously
ill patients, to Dr. Wells. He roamed the streets by day and the saloons by
night. No one had seen the beautiful Miss Emily leave the hotel. A redheaded,
freckle-faced boy, of about ten years old, reported that someone had stolen his
wagon and mule, but everyone knew he was a reckless youth and it would not be
the first time that he hadn’t tied up his mule and let it wonder away. Sooner
or later, it would turn up, as it always had before.

Dora tried to keep an outwardly, calm demeanor about her,
but she too, was beside herself with worry. She and Whiskey would take long walks,
in the evening. Hand in hand, they strolled up and down the wooden sidewalks
of town, discreetly looking into windows and listening to whispered
conversations. It was as if Emily had just vanished into thin air.