Beside Still Waters - Wyldhaven, Book 8, Chapter 1

Chapter 1

***

Just looking at Washington Nolan standing there next to Kin at the front of the church made Zoe Kastain mad. Madder than mad. Every part of her shook with a fury that she realized had likely been building for months.

Today was supposed to be a day of happiness and joy. The whole community was overjoyed to celebrate Kin and Cora’s marriage. Cora was radiant in her gown of champagne silk and Kin looked dashing in his suit with a bowtie at his throat. The day should fill her with peace and serenity. Joy. A gentle thrill at the wonders of love.

Instead, she wanted to leap up and scream for the happy couple to be wary because love was a fickle fiend. Wouldn’t that set the town’s tongues to wagging?

Zoe wriggled, irritated with the hardness of the bench beneath her. She tried to keep her face impassive and summon an attitude of celebration for her friends, but red had started to creep into the edges of her vision.

Washington Nolan had made her promises. Dazzled her with what she thought had been sincere kisses. And, on that fateful day when he’d ridden the train out of town to join the cavalry, had even asked her to wait for him.

And then he’d come home—or rather, Kin had dragged him home by the scruff of his sorry, self-pitying neck.

Injured and broken, Wash had told her he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d shut his door in her face, leaving her to gather the scattered pieces of her broken heart. And all for what? Because he’d suffered an injury to his leg that had taken some of his mobility?

Did he really think she would love him less because of it? How little he apparently knew her!

She rolled her lips in and pressed them together so tightly that pain penetrated the fog of her frustration. She pulled in a long slow inhale. Tried to relax.

So he now used a walking stick to get around—what did that change? If he’d truly loved her, something so insignificant shouldn’t—wouldn’t—have dampened his ardor. If he’d known her at all, he would have known that her love for him wouldn’t change just because he was maimed. Certainly she understood that an injury such as his would take time to move past. But it wasn’t as life-altering as he was making it out to be. Not like it might have been if he hadn’t come home to her at all.

Her eyes scrunched against a roil of nausea. She shifted again, and again found no comfort.

If he would let her, she would help him determine what came next. But he’d been stubbornly maintaining his distance. In fact, this was the first time she’d seen him in town since his return home.

Since his focus lay on the ceremony, she let herself study him. He looked fine. Better than fine if she were honest, in the tailored suit that Mrs. Holloway had sewn for him. Standing as he was, with his walking stick leaning against the far wall, no one would even know that he’d been shot. His hair was a little on the long side—something to be expected, she supposed, since he’d been so reclusive. But his broad shoulders stretched the gray wool of his suit near to bursting, and tapered down to narrow hips that gave no indication of a man who’d faced trauma. He looked sturdy. Robust. Handsome.

Realizing she’d been staring for too long, she forced herself to examine the others in the wedding party instead. He was no longer her concern. The realization was a bitter concoction to swallow after a lifetime of loving him.

Beside him, Sheriff Callahan wore a matching suit, and across from the men, Mrs. Griffin and Belle wore gorgeous identical green gowns. They each held a nosegay of white lilac blooms interspersed with ferns and soft pink tulips. They were fitting bouquets for Cora’s gentle personality. Beautiful, just like she was.

For some reason, the sight of those bouquets knotted Zoe’s stomach as tight as a tangle of worms in a bait bucket.

She, too, should be getting married this spring. Well, if Wash hadn’t gotten hurt, she supposed he would still be in the cavalry, but since he was home, if he were still a man of his word, they should be celebrating their own marriage. Yet he hadn’t spoken to her—other than to tell her he wanted nothing more to do with her.

A sudden thought made her eyes flash wide. What if he’d been testing her? Testing her love for him? Testing to see if she’d be willing to remain committed to him though he was injured?

And she’d been so hurt that she’d simply walked away! And now, for all these months—oh, merciful heavens—he’d been thinking that she never really loved him!

She had to prove him wrong. But how? What was the biggest gesture that proclaimed one person’s love for another?

Marriage!

The idea was so preposterous that she gasped.

Ma glanced over at her. Even Papa Harrow leaned forward to peer at her from Ma’s other side.

Zoe snapped her mouth shut and gave them a subtle shake of her head. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t fine, because this seed of an idea had set her mind to whirling and her heart to racing.

No. She couldn’t . . . Could she? It would be madness! And yet . . .

She pressed one hand to her churning middle.

The idea swirled, threatening to rise up and take all her rationality captive.

She thought back to that fateful day last autumn when she’d worked up her courage to go see Wash at the cabin his father had built for him—his hideaway from the real world. It was a memory better left six-feet-under. The good Lord knew she’d tried to bury it many times with tears of repentance for her anger and bitterness, but it kept rising from the grave like a ghoul in a tale from Edgar Allan Poe.

She gritted her teeth and studied the gloves she strangled in her lap.

No. If she followed through on this idea, the rejection would feel so much worse. So much more final.

Beside her, Ma leaned close to whisper, “If you are imagining those gloves are Wash Nolan’s neck, it doesn’t seem to be bothering him any.”

Zoe’s shoulders sagged. She understood Ma’s message plain and clear. Her anger and despair hurt no one but herself. She raised her chin. Loosened her grip on the gloves. Ma was right. She had to find a way to let this go.

And marching to Washington Nolan’s house and demanding marriage is certainly not letting it go, Zoe Kastain!

Her cheeks burned at the mere thought, and she glanced around to make sure no one was looking.

Her gaze crashed into Wash’s. Of course he’d looked at her at that precise moment. It was deserved punishment for her insensible thoughts. Fair-skinned as she was, and with her red hair a constant torment, she’d never been able to hide a flush of embarrassment. In fact, she could feel the burn of her humiliation, even now.

One of Wash’s brows winged upward in question.

Zoe snapped her attention to where Kin was just slipping a ring on Cora’s finger. Let Wash wonder. She wouldn’t pay him or her crazy idea another thought.

But she could feel him studying her. Could see from the edge of her vision that he hadn’t turned away. Despite the promise she’d made to herself in the mirror this morning that she would not make a fool of herself, her scrutiny drifted back to him. Something indefinable tugged at his features—something that held her fast. His gray-green eyes softened as they swept over her face, warming her clean through.

And for one moment, Zoe’s heart soared with the hope of what might be.

His throat worked, and he shifted.

“You may kiss the bride!” Parson Clay’s exultant proclamation sent a jolt down Zoe’s spine that yanked her attention to where it should have remained.

A loud cheer rose through the congregation as Kin leaned close to lay a lingering kiss on Cora’s lips. After a moment, with a side-eyed glance at the congregation, Cora pulled back, but he leaned after her, and she indulged him in another series of kisses and retreats until she was nearly bent over backward. This caused endless ripples of laughter. Cora finally halted him with an embarrassed flush. Kin gave her an unrepentant grin, and then straightened slowly, pulling her with him. Cora responded by darting up onto her toes to give him one more peck, much to the amusement of those gathered.

Zoe couldn’t resist a smile. She could only hope that their love would prove to last.

Parson Clay’s laughter melded with the congregation’s, and then he presented the couple with a broad, proud gesture. “May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Kin Davis.”

Kin and Cora faced the congregation and Kin thrust their joined hands toward the ceiling in a gesture of triumph. “She said yes!”

Even Wash’s somber lips tilted at that.

Cora’s giggle was like a creek during spring melt—joyous and bubbly.

From the back of the church, Ewan McGinty shouted, “Three cheers for the happy couple!”

“Huzzah!” The joyous shouts nearly lifted the roof. “Huzzah! Huzzah!”

Still laughing, Kin and Cora hurried down the aisle, followed by the four who had stood up with them.

Zoe noted that Kane Carver, across the way, couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Belle as she passed. But Wash didn’t look Zoe’s way again. He must have gathered his walking stick sometime while her attention had been on Kin and Cora, for now he kept his attention steadfastly pinned to the portion of the aisle directly in front of him as the tap of his stick accompanied his hasty escape.

Zoe’s gloves were once again choking for air.

***

Wash stumbled on nothing as he escaped the confines of the church into the warm spring air.

“Careful there.” Thank heavens, Sheriff Callahan did not reach to steady him. “You okay?”

Wash concentrated on balancing on his good leg as he tugged at the tie that suddenly felt much too tight at his throat. “Fine.” Striding to the rail, he leaned is cane against it, and planted the heels of both palms on it. He clenched his teeth at the pain that throbbed in his leg as though the bullet had only mutilated him moments ago.

He scrunched his eyes closed against the images that tormented him.

Zoe looking mighty fine in that soft-blue dress that could make a man forget his limitations.

Zoe trying not to let him see how hurt she was, and yet failing miserably at the task.

Zoe blushing over some part of the ceremony and making his insides twist with regret and a feeling of loss at the way life had forced him to relinquish her.

It should have been them at the altar. Not that he begrudged Kin and Cora their day. But, if not today, one day soon it should have been him and Zoe teasing each other with kisses in front of a church full of people. If only he’d come home whole and without the worry of how he would now make a living and provide for a family.

The crowd emptied from the church and spilled off the porch and onto the lawn. Kin and Cora had paused in the shade beneath the large oak and most everyone fell into a line that filed past the couple so they could offer congratulations.

And there at the end stood Zoe’s parents and twin sisters. Aiden and the boys had no doubt run off to play baseball as soon as they were released from the church—he knew that was what he and Kin would have done when they were lads. And Belle was there at the foot of the stairs helping to unload cauldron after cauldron of food from the wagon that Dr. Griffin had just arrived in.

He shouldn’t search for Zoe, but he did nonetheless. She was . . . there, helping Charlotte Callahan spread cloths on the tables that several men were hurrying to set up. Ewan had apparently donated his tables from the alehouse for the occasion.

Her red hair glinted like fire in the spring sunlight. The hem of her dress skimmed the grass, and the sleeves were wide and puffy at the shoulders, drawing his attention to a waist so slender that he could span it with the breadth of his hands. He knew because . . . well, some memories were better left in the past.

The very distant past.

He scrubbed one hand over his face. Why had he let Kin talk him into being here today? He should have maintained his reclusiveness and insisted that Kin have Joe or Jackson stand up with him, but his friend had been persistent. And he hadn’t had the heart to say no.

But now . . . his leg, more specifically his knee joint, was going to burst into flames if he had to stand much longer. He should go down and make himself useful somehow, but just the thought of facing those stairs made sweat break out on his forehead. Not only would the pain of navigating them be severe, but everyone would be watching him.

Behind him, something scraped across the porch decking.

He spun to find Sheriff Callahan placing two chairs and a big cedar bin filled with ears of corn. “Don’t suppose I can get you to help me shuck some corn? Charlotte and I planned to do this last night, but I got called out to Camp Sixty-Five because of a burglary, and Isaiah has been sick. Last night Charlotte was stuck to his side keeping cool cloths on his forehead.”

Relieved, Wash sank into the nearest chair. He stretched out his injured leg and tried not to release too big of a breath of relief as the flames abated to mere coals. He picked up an ear of corn. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Reagan set to work on the corn. “Doc thought it was just something he ate. We let him and Lincoln and Grant sleep out by the creek a couple nights ago. They caught a fish and claimed they cooked it well, but all three of them got sick the next day, as you might know.”

Wash didn’t know, but he didn’t want to let on. Truth was, he didn’t often leave his little cabin other than to wander down to the bigger house to restock his food supplies.

Thankfully, Reagan didn’t push him. “Doc figured they just needed a couple of days to get whatever it was out of their system and sure enough, Isaiah’s fever broke in the early hours this morning. It was a short night, but we are both relieved that he seems to be on the mend. We left him home, sound asleep.” The sheriff shucked an ear and scrubbed off the silks before asking, “How are Lincoln and Grant?”

Wash placed his shucked cob to one side of the cedar bin. Maybe he hadn’t escaped so easily after all. He lifted one shoulder. “I didn’t even realize they were sick.”

“I see. Scarce can blame you. I know you’ve got plenty on your own mind lately.”

That was true, he supposed. But not so much that he shouldn’t have known his little brothers were sick. With Pa off to the woods each day to fell trees for Heath Logging, who had been watching the boys? Had anyone been there laying a cloth on his brothers’ heads? Jackson also worked all day away from the house. Linc was old enough that he could probably manage to care for himself, but he would have been more likely to torment Grant than help him. Maude then. Yes. Likely it had been Jackson’s wife who had helped his brothers. But that didn’t lessen his feeling of guilt. She’d taken on a big job when she’d married Jackson, Christmas past. They’d moved into his brother’s room in the main house until Jackson could get their own place built. Cooking and cleaning for Pa and the boys couldn’t be easy on a newly married woman, but she’d risen to the task, and from what he’d seen, with a great amount of joy.

He dropped another ear of corn onto the stack and took up another to shuck. Maybe he needed to start doing more around the place. After all, he couldn’t just sleep the rest of his life away. He had to find a way to wrangle through the pain he suffered. If only he didn’t feel so constantly tired. The agony was a ceaseless energy drain.

Mrs. Callahan bustled up the church steps, a large empty pot cradled in her arms. “Reagan, the fire is good and hot and the water is boiling, are the cobs ready?”

“We’ve done about half. Here, let me get them for you. Wash is helping us.” Reagan took the pot from Charlotte and set to filling it with the ready cobs.

“Bless you, Wash.” Charlotte squeezed his shoulder.

Wash offered what he hoped passed for a smile and not a grimace. “Happy to help.” Lies. What he really wanted to do was go home and sleep. So much for his realization that he ought to be doing more.

“I felt so bad that we didn’t get it done earlier,” Charlotte said. “But the bride and groom haven’t even escaped their guests yet, so I don’t suppose I needed to worry.” She hurried after her husband, calling over her shoulder, “Reagan will be right back.”

Charlotte and Reagan hadn’t been gone for more than a minute when someone stopped only a few feet away.

It was the short blond doctor who had come to see him on occasion with Dr. Griffin. He sported a drooping walrus mustache that reminded Wash of his commanding officer at Fort Vancouver.

“Howdy,” the man said.

Wash gave him a nod but feared that a frown may have settled on his brow. He didn’t want to spend energy creating conversation with a stranger.

“You may remember me. I’m Doctor Polson. Alexander Polson.” The man shifted a bit nervously and twisted a bowler hat through his fingers.

Wash managed, “I know who you are.”

The man thrust out a hand. “Good. Then you’ll know that I work closely with Doctor Griffin. He instructed me to wait until you were ready, and I figured seeing you here today was a good sign. May I have a few minutes of your time?”

Ready for what? Wash didn’t want to know. But . . .

“Can you shuck corn?” Wash nudged the empty chair with the boot of his good leg. The man could sit if he would work. Because the sooner this job was done, the sooner he could hightail it on home before this agony made him bite somebody’s head off.

“Uh, yes. Thank you. Happy to help.”

The man sat, but he didn’t get to work.

Wash lifted him an irritated glance. “How can I help you, Doctor?”

“Mr. Nolan, I think I’m the one who can help you. With your leg I mean. It would require an exploratory surgery, but I am trained and have performed many such surgeries when I worked in California. I suppose you’ve heard that we are building a surgery right here in Wyldhaven?”

“I have not, no. And if you’ll pardon me for being blunt, I’ve had enough of doctors butchering my leg. Thank you, though.” Just the thought of going back under the knife made a shudder work through him. He’d been through two such surgeries back-to-back after the accident and neither had given him his leg back nor taken away the pain.

“I understand that, but if you’ll just let me explain—”

“The answer is no, Doctor.” A movement drew his scowl toward the porch steps.

Zoe stood there, unmoving, like a doe, curious, but ready to flee at the first whisper of a sound she didn’t recognize. Perfect. Just what he needed. Her getting one of her ideas. She was unrelenting and tenacious when she felt she had a good plan.

Wash tossed down a cob and stood with the aid of his stick. He touched his brow and gave the doctor a nod. “You’ll forgive me, but I have to go.”

His cane tapped out a steady betrayal of his infirmity as he approached Zoe by the steps. He kept his focus on the boards. The last thing he needed was to look into the depths of those blue eyes of hers. When she didn’t move out of his way, he fiddled with his cane a little. “Zoe—” He’d meant to ask her to please allow him to pass, but her name emerged broken and barely audible. He cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” Her reply was nearly as breathy as his had been. She stepped to one side, giving him free access to the stairs.

He turned sideways, gripped the rail, and descended the stairs one halting step at a time. He didn’t dare raise his gaze to those gathered, or he’d never have the courage to leave his cabin again. The last thing he wanted to see was the pity many of them were certainly directing toward him at this very moment.

When he reached the foot of the stairs, he carefully adjusted his balance and settled his cane against the grass.

“You ready to go home, son?”

A small bit of tension eased in Wash’s gut. “Yes.” He counted it a blessing that Pa was a thoughtful man with a kind heart.

“Mrs. Griffin hurried up with a basket that she thrust toward Pa. “Here, Butch. For you and the boys this evening.”

“Thank you kindly, Mrs. Griffin.” Pa hooked the basket over one arm.

She turned and gave Wash a gentle hug. “It was so good to see you here today, Wash. Try not to be a stranger, hmmm?”

He nodded, but only because he knew that would make her leave him alone.

“Lincoln! Grant!” Pa’s beller practically made Wash leap out of his skin. “Let’s go, boys!”

Wash felt a measure of relief to realize that his brothers were both here today. That must mean that they hadn’t gotten as sick as Isaiah. Or maybe they just had iron stomachs from all of Pa’s cooking through the years.

Wash bit off a smirk.

His younger brothers would come running from behind the church at any moment and likely beat him to the wagon. And with the obstacle he faced to hoist himself up to the bench, he’d better get moving or the whole family would be waiting on him.

Keeping his focus on the path before him, he moved forward, thankful to see that no one had hemmed their buckboard in. They would have free access to the road.

Just another hour and then he could lose this anguish in blessed sleep.

***

From her place on the church porch, Zoe watched Wash retreat. She pressed her hands together.

She would not march to the man’s house and demand that he marry her. She simply wouldn’t.

It would be unseemly . . . yet it was all that she’d ever wanted.

It would cost her the Wyldhaven teaching position . . . maybe.

It would give Ma no end of angst over her actions . . . but she’d recover.

It would put Wash in an awkward position . . . but it would also prove her love for the man once and for all.

And then maybe Zoe could talk Wash into the surgery she’d overheard Dr. Polson speak about. Surely Wash owed it to himself to try?

And surely she owed it to him to prove that she still loved him no matter the condition in which he’d returned home?

Her stomach churned like a white-water cataract.

Parson Clay trotted up the church steps, obviously intent on heading into the sanctuary for something, but Zoe stepped toward him. “Parson?”

He paused. “Yes, Zoe?” His eyes were kind, the corners crinkled in greeting.

Her fingers fidgeted worse than Jinx when he was about to get fed. She laced them together. “I wondered if you’d be able to meet me at Washington Nolan’s cabin tomorrow morning? Say nine o’clock?”

The minister frowned. “I . . . can.”

The hesitation with which he said the words made her realize he wanted to know why she was asking, but all she offered was “Thank you very much,” before she hurried down the stairs.

Lord have mercy. What was she doing?

She was going to throw her whole life and reputation away!

And all for a man who swore he no longer loved her!

 

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