Gunsmoke and Gingham Read online

  Livy reached for another carrot. She peeled it slower than before, taking care to keep the knife blade away from her fingers.

  “The kids threatened to beat me if I didn’t save half my food and give it to them after the evening meal. I remember one time, a couple of kids were holding me so I couldn’t defend myself, while another one hit me because I didn’t bring enough food.”

  She paused in her work. Thoughts of her time at the orphanage hadn’t surfaced in years. She’d been too busy working, moving from place to place, trying to keep from ending up on the streets, or worse. Images formed clearer in her mind of a boy who’d been the only person who’d looked out for her after her parents had died.

  “A boy, who was a good head smaller than the other one, rushed up and hit the boy who was beating me up. He chased off the others, then he held out his hand to me, and told me not to worry or be scared.”

  The words of a young boy echoed from the distant past.

  “I promise I’ll always take care of you, Livy. You’ll never have to be afraid or alone again.”

  “I didn’t know you grew up in an orphanage,” Jenny’s voice dropped to a near whisper. She seemed to be completely enraptured by Livy’s story. “What happened then?”

  Livy scoffed. “He was punished for starting a fight with the other kids. For months, he was my only friend. One day, he disappeared, and I’ve never seen or heard from him again.”

  “That’s a shame.” Jenny shook her head.

  Livy gritted her teeth. It didn’t matter. It was in the past and long forgotten. She’d learned her lesson many times never to hope for something good to come her way. Every time she’d thought things were looking up for her, something had happened to remind her again what her lot in life was supposed to be.

  “I’ve worked and scraped for every morsel of food and every penny I’ve ever earned. Just once, I wish I had enough money so I wouldn’t have to worry about having a roof over my head or food in my belly tomorrow.”

  “We all wish that.” Jenny stirred a long-handled spoon in the steaming pot. She held it up, and waved it through the air, dripping sauce on the ground. “There’s the rich people like Mr. Laslow, who will never know what a hard day’s work is like, and there’s people like us. The important thing is finding something in this life that makes you happy, Livy. Money won’t do that. The love of a good man is better than all the money in the world.”

  “I told you, I don’t have time for courting. No man’s ever come knocking at my door.” At least not the desirable kind. “I’ve always had to look out for myself.

  Livy peeled and sliced the last of the carrots, then did the same with a half-dozen potatoes. After all the vegetables were cut, she added them to the pot Jenny had cooking. The aroma of rich gravy and meat rose with the steam. Her mouth began to water. The stew for Mr. and Mrs. Laslow’s supper would be finished once the vegetables were tender. At least Jenny always fixed enough food to spare a plate for the kitchen help.

  When Livy rinsed the vegetable bowls, Jenny shot her a sideways glance. “How’d you end up in St. Louis if you said the orphanage was in Ohio?”

  Livy inhaled deeply. Hadn’t this conversation ended? Why had she even talked about her past? There was no looking back, no going back. There was only today and tomorrow, and making sure she worked hard and earned her pay. And stay out of Mr. Laslow’s sights.

  “The orphanage fell on hard times,” she continued. “I was too young to understand what was going on, but there was no money to take care of all the children. Many of us fell ill and some even died. We took to the streets to beg. . . and steal.” Livy ventured a glance at the cook for a reaction. There was nothing but sympathy in the woman’s eyes.

  “We were looked down upon when we were seen in town. One day, I was chased by some children from a richer neighborhood. I fell, and I’m sure they would have beaten me if a nice lady and her companion hadn’t come along and scared them away. She was a real doctor, and she treated me for an illness I had.”

  “A lady doctor?” Jenny’s eyes widened as disbelief flashed in her gaze. “You sure you’re not making up stories?”

  Livy shook her head. The pretty woman with the flowing golden hair and friendly smile was as vivid as if she’d seen her yesterday.

  “She was a real doctor. Fresh from medical college in the east, is what she said. She took me back to the orphanage, and gave the headmaster a dressing-down when she saw that most of us there were poorly fed.” Livy furrowed her brow, searching for the right word. “Scurvy, she called it.”

  Livy paused, and sniffled. She swiped at the perspiration on her forehead again. “She found a family for me. She got me out of that orphanage. I thought for sure I’d finally have a real home again.” Livy smiled, even as a tear rolled down her face. She shook her head.

  “Sometimes I wish I’d asked the doctor and her companion if they’d take me with them, but it sounded too frightening at the time.” She glanced at her friend, raising her chin.

  Jenny set her spoon aside, and pulled up a chair. She tilted her head to look at Livy. “If the lady doctor was nice, why would you be scared?”

  Livy shrugged. “She said she was traveling somewhere far away, where there weren’t many people. Her companion was dressed like one of those woodsmen I’ve seen here in St. Louis on occasion, the ones who go out into the mountains for years at a time. Didn’t sound like somewhere I’d want to go.”

  “What about now?” Jenny’s brows shot up. “Many of the staff are moving to the Montana Territory in a few weeks when Laslow opens his new bank in Helena. Mrs. Finch must have told you.”

  Livy nodded. “She told me that one condition of my employment was my willingness to relocate to Helena. I agreed. I’ve always regretted not going with the doctor.” She filled her lungs before adding, “I think I’m ready for a new start. There’s nothing keeping me here in St. Louis.”

  Jenny frowned. “Yeah, I would rather stay here, but I’ve been with the family for a long time. It’s not easy leaving everything behind, but I’ve got James, and we agreed to the move. Mrs. Laslow begged me to go. She said there was no finer cook anywhere.” The frown turned into a smile. Jenny was clearly proud of her value to the household. Her husband, James, was Mr. Laslow’s butler, and equally as indispensable.

  Jenny shifted on her seat. “So, what happened to the family that took you in?”

  Livy set her knife aside, and followed Jenny’s example. She rubbed at her lower back, which was sore from standing all day, and pulled up one of the kitchen chairs. She sighed when her tired feet tingled once she no longer stood.

  “They were nice. They didn’t have any children of their own. I was with them for two years when the husband decided to pack us all up and head out west. He said he could make a better life for us there.”

  Livy swiped at her forehead with a trembling hand. Of all the memories, this one was the most difficult. She’d grown fond of her new parents, and at ten years old, the memories were much clearer than when she’d lost her real folks.

  Jenny’s hand reached across the table, and she squeezed Livy’s. A sympathetic, yet curious look passed through her eyes. Livy sucked in a quick breath. There was no sense stopping her tale now.

  “We didn’t quite make it to St. Louis when the wagon broke down. The wife, Hetty, was walking next to it. When the rig lurched, she reacted by leaning against it. She slipped and fell, and a wheel rolled right over both her legs.” Livy’s voice cracked. Her lips quivered, but she inhaled a deep breath and stared at the hands in her lap. “I did what I could to save her. Her husband and I, we did what we could, but she died three days later.”

  “What happened to her husband?”

  Livy sniffled again. Jenny offered her a cloth, and she blew her nose.

  “When we got to St. Louis, he started drinking and gambling.” She twisted the cloth she held into a tight rope.

  “He lost his wagon, his supplies, and all his money. I suppose he gambled
with the wrong people, because I found him dead one morning in the alley behind the saloon. I ran away. I wasn’t going to go back to another orphanage. I’ve been on my own ever since, begging for handouts at first, and taking odd jobs here and there.”

  Livy raised her head to stare at Jenny. “But there’s one thing I’ve never done, and that I will never do, even for a rich man like Mr. Laslow.”

  Jenny nodded, her face grim with understanding. “Things’ll look up, you’ll see.” She offered a quick smile. “You’re young, and you’re pretty. There’s bound to be something good waiting for you out there.”

  Jenny pointed out the window, as if Livy’s destiny was waiting for her around the corner. Livy stood. The dishes weren’t going to wash themselves.

  Telling her tale to the cook had only brought a sudden feeling of emptiness. She’d stopped hoping for better things a long time ago.

  Livy plastered a bright smile on her face. No sense arguing with Jenny any further.

  “You’re right. Something good’s bound to come my way any day now,” she said to please her friend, instead of what was really on her mind.

  Chapter 2

  Jackson Valley at the Base of the Teton Mountains, April 1870

  His yell pierced the stillness surrounding the quiet lake, bouncing off the towering mountains that framed the body of water. As if challenging his call, an eagle’s screech echoed in the air. Momentarily airborne, he raised his arms and let out another whoop just as his body hit the water, creating a giant splash.

  His head broke through the surface of the lake, and he gasped when the full impact of the frigid water penetrated his skin. Caleb Walker sucked in a lungful of air and shook the excess liquid from his hair, which hung half-way to his shoulders. He laughed despite the chilling shock to his body, and flung his arms skyward. A wide grin split his face. Nothing like a plunge in an icy alpine lake to feel alive.

  The surrounding mountains were covered in snow, although much of it was already melted near their base. Only patches of white remained along the edges of the lake, and the first hint of spring made itself visible in places where green shoots of grass started to appear through the soil.

  There was no better time than spring in the mountains, when the trees and shrubs returned to their vibrant colors, the bears emerged from their winter dens, and the elk and bison dropped their calves. The ice melted from rivers and lakes, making the waters flow again, and birdsong once more filled the air. It was a time of rebirth and renewal after months of silence and everything lying dormant under a blanket of white.

  Caleb sucked in another breath, the cold from the water seeping into his body at an alarming rate. The air he expelled swirled in visible wisps around his face, while the sun reflected off the water, giving the area a glossy shine.

  His limbs went from a painful tingle to quickly turning numb. Time to get back to dry land and into his warm clothes. He wasn’t quite as crazy as his uncle. Lucas Walker still held the record in the family for enduring the painful cold of standing the longest in a lake fed by snowmelt.

  The jump into the water had been as invigorating as he’d hoped. Caleb had formulated his plans weeks ago to come here alone. If it hadn’t been the weather delaying his plans, it had been his younger siblings underfoot, always asking where he was going, and if they could join him. Not that he minded his little brother and sisters, or his cousins who lived nearby, but sometimes his soul craved the solitude found along the shores of a quiet mountain lake.

  Today, he’d finally managed to leave the homestead without anyone holding him back. His father, Joseph Walker had barely looked up from his morning chores when Caleb had saddled his horse and ridden away at such an early hour. Caleb was a grown man, after all, and even as a youth, he had enjoyed all the freedoms the mountains had to offer. Now that spring had arrived and another year had passed, an inexplicable restlessness stirred inside him that grew with each passing day.

  It was more than simply waiting out the winter in anticipation of exploring the mountains and hunting with his family and friends. Soon he would be able to visit neighbors on the other side of the Teewinots and to the north, but there was more to his wanderlust. Something indefinable had stirred Caleb into restlessness, and it was growing stronger each year.

  Perhaps he should talk to his uncle. Lucas had spent most of his youth roaming the mountains and exploring the vast wilderness. That had all changed after his marriage to Tori, but he still enjoyed a good adventure if asked to go. Only these days, his adventures were carried out closer to home.

  While Caleb had grown up listening to Lucas’ escapades, he’d never had the urge himself to stray too far from the Walker homestead in the Jackson Valley. All he needed was right here, in this vast wilderness.

  Then why did he have these urges to seek out something different all of a sudden, as if something was out of balance in his life? He shouldn’t feel this way. He was fortunate to have the love of his family. Perhaps he simply needed more days spent alone, and there were plenty of places in these mountains that provided solitude. Coming here today was a start.

  Today, he’d seized his chance for a private moment, to take in the coming of spring alone. Over the years, he’d often come to this quiet lake nestled near the base of the mighty Teewinots, but perhaps not often enough.

  Caleb turned to swim back to shore. His limbs were nearly paralyzed with cold. Jumping into a body of water that still had thin sheets of ice in some areas was really a stupid thing to do. It was a Walker spring tradition, however. One his father and uncle continued, despite their wives’ objections every year.

  Even Grandpa Alex had often joined his children and grandchildren, although Grandma Evie had given her husband a stern warning last spring that he was too old for such nonsense, and would not be participating in such foolishness anymore.

  Caleb reached the shore and stepped out of the water, the cold air slicing into his bare skin. Rubbing his hands up and down his arms, he shook more water from his hair and hurried to where he’d left his horse and clothes. He stopped before he reached the dense patch of firs and cursed under his breath. His horse was gone, along with his shirt, leggings, and weapons.

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he squinted into the thicket along this stretch of the lakeshore. He’d hobbled his horse. The gelding couldn’t have wandered far. The fact that his leggings, shirt, and leather belt that held his hunting knife and tomahawk were nowhere to be found was cause for alarm. Clearly, he wasn’t alone.

  A heightened sense of alertness washed over him, trained into every fiber of his body over the years by his grandfather, father, and uncle. Caleb cursed at his own stupidity for leaving his weapons where he had no access to them. He’d been taught better than that. Believing himself alone when he’d arrived at the lake, he’d let his guard down. At the moment, he was as vulnerable as a newborn fawn, and his carelessness might cost him his life.

  A slight breeze swished through the tops of the trees and created ripples on the lake’s glassy surface. Caleb shivered as water dripped from his hair and ran down his chest and arms, causing goosebumps to erupt on his skin. He cursed again.

  The eagle screeched overhead, this time sounding as if it mocked Caleb for standing by the lakeshore in nothing but his loincloth. Several wood ducks took flight from the water close to shore, and something rustled in the undergrowth nearby. Caleb reached for a large branch that looked sturdy enough to use as a weapon if needed, and backed behind some trees. Something had disturbed the ducks, and it hadn’t been the eagle.

  No more than a few seconds passed when the unmistakable sounds of horses’ hooves striking rock and dirt came closer. Caleb pressed up against the tree, clutching his makeshift weapon. His hobbled horse wouldn’t make those sounds, and there was more than one animal.

  Blackfoot or Crow warriors wouldn’t have simply stolen his horse. They would have seen him in the water and killed him by now. There had been no signs of Indians in the area. Besides, it was too early i
n the season for them to return from their wintering grounds.

  No sooner had he dismissed the thought of hostile warriors, when a horse and rider came into view, moving directly toward the lakeshore. Caleb clutched his makeshift weapon, his eyes on the rider. An Indian, by the looks of his long, raven hair, fringed leggings and leather shirt. The man’s eyes were trained on the ground, no doubt looking at the tracks Caleb had made earlier. The butt end of – what looked to be – a Henry Rifle, rested across his lap. Caleb carried a similar weapon. Unfortunately, his rifle was on his saddle, which was on his missing horse.

  The Indian halted and dismounted, gracefully swinging his right leg over his animal’s withers and landing lightly on his feet. Where was the other rider? The earlier clopping of hooves had definitely come from more than one animal. The riders must have split up.

  Caleb stepped forward, testing the ground with his bare foot to make sure he didn’t put his full weight on something that might make noise, like a twig or a pinecone. While the Indian was studying the tracks, it might be possible to catch him off guard and disarm him.

  He waited, holding his breath as much as possible and forcing his limbs to remain quiet from shivering in the frigid air. His visible breath might give him away.

  The Indian moved closer, partly obscured by the heavy greenery from the dense vegetation growing along the shores of the lake. He moved in a hunched-over fashion, studying the tracks. There was still no indication of the second rider.

  Caleb tensed. It was now or never. With a determined set of his jaw, he sprang away from his hiding place, crashing through the branches. He leapt at the Indian, who spun around at that exact moment.

  Caleb swung the heavy stick, but his opponent’s reflexes were quicker. The Indian ducked to avoid a blow to his head, then rushed at Caleb and tackled him. Together, they fell to the ground, rolling in the dirt. There was something oddly familiar about the Indian whose long hair obstructed a full view of his face, but Caleb had no time to contemplate. Survival instinct kicked into high gear, and he fought to bring his adversary fully underneath him.