Hope, page 7
part #3 of Brides of the Rio Grande Series
Billy did just that since he had plenty of time to find Hope before the evening twilight set in. It had been a long time since he allowed himself time to be pampered. He hadn’t wanted to waste the time or spend the money, but today he wanted to make a good impression. After all, he hadn’t laid eyes on Hope in over a week and he was hoping to spend some alone time with his lovely bride-to-be.
He inhaled a relaxed breath under the hot towel, listening to the drone of Mr. Johnson and the boot boy talking about something or other. He must have dozed off because a new voice startled him awake.
“I need a shave and a haircut. How much?”
Billy’s heart pumped adrenalin through his body. His instincts pushed his hand to search under the barber’s cape for his sidearm. When he found it, his fingers gingerly touched the leather strap that kept the gun’s hammer in place.
He knew that voice and he despised the son-of-a-bitch it belonged to. Hearing that voice brought back so many memories. And feelings. None of them good.
Billy took refuge behind the darkness of the now-cooled towel across his face. He needed time to think. His heart’s cadence pounded in his chest. He could hear its beat in his ears. Then that old, familiar feeling of bile rose in his stomach and it took him three swallows to push it down and keep from throwing up.
Mr. Johnson answered the bastard’s question. “Two bits for a haircut. A dime for a shave, mister.”
“Why, that’s highway robbery,” that hated voice spoke again.
Billy could stay behind the towel and hide like he used to when he was a defenseless scared little boy, or he could fight like the grown man he was now. He had a lifetime of hiding from that evil bastard, but he could take care of himself now.
He felt for his pistol again in the holster on his side. Yeah, he could fend for himself now. And he wasn’t going to hide anymore from that sadistic son-of-a-bitch. Not ever again.
Billy took a deep breath and ripped the towel off his face. “Then why don’t you go get your no good sorry hide pampered somewhere else, Bobby? Somewhere you might be welcome. Like the jail house. Or prison.”
He took some satisfaction in the surprised look on the man’s face. But the surprise morphed into the ugly snarl Billy was more accustomed to. And so was everything else about the man. The same piercing blue eyes. The same blue-black hair. The same vicious sneer on his face. Yeah, everything was exactly the same except maybe a few more wrinkles of hard living crisscrossed the man’s face. But that was what prison did to a person, he supposed.
“Well, if it ain’t little snot-nosed Billy Boy. Still the whining little brat, I see.” The man smirked at him and deliberately sat in the second barber chair looking relaxed, never taking his eyes off Billy. Billy knew better than to buy his act. The man was coiled like a rattlesnake, always ready to strike and inject his venom, inflicting as much pain and suffering as possible.
Billy felt at a disadvantage sitting, so he stood and threw off the barber’s cape, his hand on the handle of his pistol.
“I wouldn’t advise you drawing down on me, Billy Boy. I heard you was good, but you ain’t ever gonna be good enough to take me on and live to tell about it.”
Billy’s fingers twitched. “Is that a fact? I would think after a couple years in prison, you wouldn’t be so quick to smart off about your skills. Not much chance for target practice in a prison cell, now is there? What the hell are you doing back in town? I can’t believe they let you outta prison, so you musta escaped. I’ll make damn sure Sheriff Grayson knows you are in town so he can hunt you down like the animal you are.”
The intruder stood and Mr. Johnson and the boot boy backed away from what looked like a brewing gunfight. “I think I’ll come back when you ain’t so busy, barber man. And you, Billy Boy. I’ll be seein’ you around town, you little piss ant.” The man left the shop, not bothering to close the door.
Billy stood stock still. He didn’t know what to do with all the emotions ricocheting inside his brain. Aware that the boot boy and Mr. Johnson were staring at him, he sat back down like he didn’t have a care in the world, but inside, his guts were boiling with hatred for the son-of-a-bitch that just left.
“Go ahead with that shave now, Mr. Johnson. He won’t be back anytime soon.” The man nodded and threw another cape around Billy then he dipped his brush into shaving cream and lathered Billy’s beard.
“Seems to me like you and that man don’t cotton to each other. You know him? He looks familiar, but I can’t seem to place him.”
“Yeah, I know him. Too damn well.” Billy gathered his scattered thoughts and finally uttered the words he’d hoped to never say again. “He’s my no-good-son-of-Satan brother. His name is Bobby. Bobby son-of-a-bitch Buchanan.”
5
Billy left the barber shop and stomped his way down the street straight to the Holy Moses Saloon. He needed a drink and he needed one bad.
He hit the batwing doors hard and left them squeaking on their hinges, popping against each other until they expended his energy and settled back into place. He grabbed the first empty bar stool he came to and called out to the barmaid. “Charlotte. Give me the usual.”
“Hey, Billy. Where have you been? Haven’t seen you around lately.” Charlotte slid a glass of whiskey across the bar to him.
“Hauling. Just got back in town.”
“You must have left the lumber mill at the crack of dawn to get back so soon. Somethin’ put a burr under your saddle? Or should I say, someone.” She grinned at him.
Billy tossed the amber colored liquid down the back of his throat. “Give me another.”
Charlotte frowned and took the empty glass. “You aren’t going to give me any trouble today are you Billy? The last time you got drunk, someone called the sheriff.”
She slid another full glass at him and he sat for a moment, studying it before he answered. “No, I’m not gonna give you trouble. I’m in too good a mood—was in too good a mood. I’m just trying to get it back. That’s all.”
He made a show to Charlotte of sipping the whiskey instead of swallowing it whole. She smiled and nodded her approval.
“What’s changed your mood? A certain young lady not showing you the attention you want?”
Billy shook his head and looked around the room making sure no one was close enough to hear his words. “Bobby is back in town. Did you know that?” He shot Charlotte a sharp look.
“Bobby? Your brother? I thought he was in prison somewhere. Yuma, maybe. No, I had no idea. He hasn’t been in here.” Charlotte’s words seemed sincere and Billy had no reason to doubt her.
“Yeah, he’s supposed to be in prison. I’m gonna visit the sheriff and find out what the hell happened. The son-of-a-bitch shoulda hanged instead of rotting in a jail cell. He didn’t look none too good, but he’s still breathin’.”
“That is troublesome news, for sure, but it’s good to see you, Billy. You look—different somehow.”
Billy scowled. “Nah, not different. I’m just clean for a change. Fresh from the bath house.”
Charlotte nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s it. Where’s the beard? A certain lady must prefer a smooth face for kissin’.”
Billy finally relaxed and grinned at Charlotte’s teasing comment. He and Charlotte had become friends of a sort over the last five or so years when she first arrived in Creede. A savvy, hard-working woman in her twenties, her mother had died and left her alone in the world. She heard about the silver strike in the Creede mountains and came to see what it was about. Unfortunately, there was only two kinds of jobs for an attractive single woman in Creede. The respectable kind didn’t have any openings for a stranger, and the other kind—well, Charlotte wasn’t interested in. So, she settled for something in the middle—dealing cards and pushing whiskey at the Holy Moses.
“Billy? Where’d you go? Thinking about a certain pretty little miss again? Gosh, you really do have it bad, don’t you?”
“I admit it.” He grinned at Charlotte and sipped on his whiskey. She grinned back and turned to answer the call of another Holy Moses customer and gave Billy a chance to study his friend.
Billy watched the woman’s easy way with the regulars. He supposed she could be described as pretty. Her eyes were a dark green and her hair the color of summer wheat. She always wore her hair up in a pile of curls on top of her head and her curves could make a man wonder what was hidden beneath her costume, that is if a man was in a position to wonder about that sort of thing, which he was not.
He had to admit that he admired her a bit though. She was determined to make a way for herself in this world without selling her body. At one time, she fancied herself in love with his best friend, John. But, when Billy ordered a bride for John who ultimately married Grace, Charlotte moved on. She said she wasn’t the kind to steal another woman’s man.
Charlotte had seen him at his best and at his worst and their association had long ago settled into a comfortable friendship he could count on. He considered her an ear he could bend and someone he could confide in—except he hadn’t shared any of the bad stuff with her. He hadn’t told anyone about the bad stuff.
“Now, what were we talking about?” Charlotte asked, returning to his end of the bar.
“You asked me if Hope liked a smooth face for kissing. And the answer is no, Hope kinda likes my beard.”
Charlotte grinned and poured a glass of whiskey for herself and leaned in against the bar. “Yeah, I suppose I can see that. It gives you a certain dangerous look a woman might find appealing.”
The batwing doors swung open and three drifters walked in. Charlotte uttered a tired sigh in his direction. “I gotta get back to work. Talk to you later.” He nodded in return and watched Charlotte turn to greet the newcomers.
He was happy to just sit on his barstool and think about his life. The ring in his pocket. The joy in his heart at the notion of courting Hope. Dark thoughts of Bobby punched their way into his happiness. He pushed back refusing to allow his brother to steal his happiness even for a moment. He forced his mind back to his conversation with John on the way back to town from his cabin site last week.
His longtime friend was always full of sage advice. “People don’t always behave like you want them to. You have to be willing to look for a compromise and only you can decide how far you are willing to go before you walk away. Everything else is out of your control.”
Billy knew his demons came from a lifetime of neglect and abuse from the people he was supposed to be able to depend upon. And he did his best to fight those demons every single day. Hell, he had just had a conversation with one of the worst of them only moments ago. He thought he was finally done with that son-of-a-bitch when the law sent Bobby to prison for killing a defenseless man. What the hell happened? Who would release a monster like Bobby back into the midst of innocent people? He needed to pay Sheriff Grayson a visit. If Bobby had escaped from prison, the sheriff would know. And if he didn’t, he should know.
Billy could admit the unexpected appearance of Bobby pulled him back to those darks days when he once lived in fear. But those days were over and he would be damned if he would let Bobby’s reappearance sabotage his chance at happiness.
He grimaced and swallowed down the last of his whiskey. He would work on fighting those demons and do a better job of caring for his family than his parents had. He tossed two coins on the bar and stood. “Charlotte, take care. I’m hopin’ next time I see you, I’ll have some happy news to share.”
She waved to him. “See you later, Billy. She’s a lucky girl.”
Billy grinned and left the saloon. It was late afternoon and he had some things to take care of before he headed over to see Hope at the Hanovers this evening.
He stopped by Sheriff Grayson’s office, but the jail was locked up tight. The man must have been on his afternoon rounds. Billy would catch up with him later and make sure the lawman knew Bobby was back in town. He wanted to know how that was possible after only two years being locked up in a prison cell. His brother had beat a defenseless man to death. Why was he out already? Was there no justice in this world anymore?
Late afternoon shadows reminded him Hope would be at home about now. He decided to pay Mr. Hanover a visit at his law office before calling on Hope.
Billy hurried the few blocks to Mr. Hanover’s law office. He entered the front reception area of Hanover and O’Brien Law Office, the bell over the door announcing his visit.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Buchanan,” Mr. Hanover said, stepping out of his office. “To what do we owe this visit? I hope you aren’t in need of a solicitor.” The portly man stepped back and invited Billy inside.
“No, sir. I need to speak with you about another matter. A personal one. If you have the time.” Billy was suddenly very nervous.
“Of course, young man. Come in to my office. It must be something serious if the look on your face is any indication.”
He swallowed hard. “It is, sir. Very serious.”
Billy followed Mr. Hanover into his office. The portly gentleman closed the door behind them. He took the seat the man offered him and instead of sitting in the chair behind his desk, Mr. Hanover took the chair next to him.
“Very well, my boy. Tell me what has you so concerned?”
“I have a question. For you. Sir.” Billy stood and paced while Mr. Hanover waited patiently. Billy supposed that was the mark of a very good attorney.
Billy sat down again, perching on the edge of his chair.
“I have to leave town tomorrow morning for another run to South Fork for lumber….”
It seemed Billy wasn’t going to get any help from his host. The man simply sat and watched him. Just do it, ask the man for heaven’s sake.
“I was hoping—maybe I could ask Hope to go to the Christmas dance next Friday.”
Mr. Hanover grinned at him. “I would think that is a question for Hope, my friend.”
“Yes sir. What I mean to say is—” Hiram was grinning from ear to ear. “Did I say something funny?” Billy was a little offended the man thought his visit was something to find humor in.
“It’s what you aren’t saying that has me amused. Go on, Mr. Buchanan. Why don’t you go ahead and ask me what you really came here for?”
“I’m—what I’m trying to say is—” Billy took a deep breath and jumped in to the matrimonial pool with both feet. “I’m trying to ask you for your permission—to marry Hope, sir.” He rushed through his words before he lost his nerve.
“Now was that so hard?” Mr. Hanover stood and walked the few feet to a bookcase in his office. He pulled out a crystal container. Billy stood too and watched him uncork the bell-shaped container.
“This is my best Irish whiskey.” He poured a splash into two crystal glasses and handed one to Billy. “I save it for special occasions and I would consider this is a very special occasion. I think we can start a little earlier than Aggie would deem appropriate, don’t you?”
“You knew what I was going to say all along, didn’t you?” Billy didn’t know whether to be relieved or angry. The man could have given him some help along the way.
Mr. Hanover clanked Billy’s glass and tossed the amber liquid down. “Ahhhh, nothing better than a shot of good Irish whiskey, wouldn’t you agree?”
Billy emptied his glass and nodded in agreement. The stuff was smooth as silk compared to that rot gut the Holy Moses served. Mr. Hanover poured himself another glass and offered Billy one as well. “I better not. I’m hoping to see Hope this evening. It wouldn’t do to court her with whiskey on my breath, even whiskey this good.”
“I think that’s probably a wise choice.” The man tossed his second glass back and a resounding sigh of satisfaction followed. “I do love me some good Irish whiskey, and I’m not even Irish.” Billy watched the man return the crystal decanter to the bookshelf and sit down in the chair next to Billy. “And, yes, Mr. Buchanan, I knew exactly what your mission was the moment you came through the front door. But, it was your mission to take—not mine, don’t you agree?”
Billy nodded in resigned agreement. “So…Mr. Hanover…does this mean I have your permission to ask Hope to marry me?”
“Please, call me Hiram. After all, it appears we are going to be members of the same blended family. And you don’t need my permission to marry Hope. She’s an intelligent, resourceful, hard-working young woman. All I can do is advise you on how to proceed from here.
“Hope has had a tough life growing up. Even now, she struggles to find her place in this world and so a word of advice to you, if you don’t mind?”
He peered at Billy from underneath his bushy gray eyebrows.
“Continue. Please.” Billy needed all the advice he could get on this subject.
“Everyone has demons they must fight sometime in their life. I’ve fought my own demons many, many times. Hope has hers. And, I sense you have a few of your own.”
Billy didn’t know what to say and he wasn’t about to share something so personal, so he kept quiet. Apparently, Mr. Hanover hadn’t expected him to answer anyway because the man continued speaking. “Don’t let the past dictate the future.”
Billy nodded in agreement. “John said something along the same lines. I’ve got a lot of learnin’ still to do. About women, I mean.”
“Ahh, my boy. If only we men could live long enough to learn all there is to know about women. But I fear even in our most advanced age, there will still be a surprise or two from the women we love.”
Billy grinned and nodded in agreement.
“I don’t know if you know this, but my family is from the lower region of Saxony in Germany. We have a saying. It goes something like this, ‘Kümmere Dich nicht um ungelegte Eier.’ which means, ‘Don’t worry about eggs that haven’t been laid yet.’”
Billy understood what Hiram was trying to tell him. “My mother used to say something like that to me as a kid. ‘Don’t borrow trouble.’ I didn’t have to. My family provided all the trouble I could handle.”
