Hugh Fontaine

Hugh strangled the wooden handle of the broom as he violently whisked sawdust from one corner of his saloon that had been used to cover and soak up the spilled alcohol from last night’s business. Sales had boomed the past two days—it always did after payday. The miners had kept a steady stream into, and then a staggering stream out of, his saloon.

That was the same number of days it had rained, making a slick, muddy mess of every road and path. No matter how his customers arrived, they trailed half a pound of mud with them that dried and fell to the floor. He’d hardly stopped serving liquor to clean up, and now that he put his hand to it, it was filth on filth.

He was happy to have the work, welcoming anything that would keep his mind off Julianne.

More dust became airborne with each swipe until he began to sneeze. He decided it was best to walk outside and let his lungs and the room clear before he tried again.

Once outside, he leaned his elbows on the hitching post. It wasn’t long ago that Hugh had a firm grasp on his future. He could have recited it in his sleep. And when he did, he would not have mentioned the wild card he’d been dealt on the road to Bachelor.

Business was great--lucrative, even—but Hugh felt little joy. In fact, he was a tad ashamed of himself as he’d slipped another sleeve of silver dollars into his hiding place the night before. He had reached his goal with enough money and then some to begin building another saloon, but he realized that over the last month, his dream had shifted.

And this new one was an impossible dream.

Men like Hugh didn’t have wives who admired their husbands. They also didn’t have homes with feminine touches like delicate blue hurricane lamps, floral woolen carpets, and tatted doilies sewn onto pillows. For the first time in his life, he hungered for all of those things.

No, that would be someone else’s house. He shook his head to banish the pictures of domestic bliss his mind had conjured up. The dream faded, but didn’t disappear. Julianne stood firmly in his mind’s eye in a yellow calico dress. She carried a basket of vegetables from her garden with one hand while the other hand caressed the curls on top of a shy toddler who hugged the back of her skirt and peeked around her knees.

He figured the dust had settled enough by now. This is my life. It’s best to leave those other dreams to other men. That was a lie, but one he chose to live with. He went to work sweeping that lie and his fantasy out the back door.

The door swung open, creaking on its hinges. Heavy footsteps clicked across the floorboards along with the whisper of dust under them. He kept sweeping, ignoring whoever came inside.

Without turning around, he barked out, “We’re all out of whiskey until tomorrow.”

“Well, gambler, I didn’t come here to rot my gut, just to see what you’re doing with the life you were given a month ago.”

Hugh knew that voice—the old cowpoke—and he didn’t want to talk with him. He also didn’t know what he was doing with his life, so there wasn’t anything to say.

Why had his life been spared that afternoon when two others’ hadn’t? He didn’t believe that he was saved to meet a woman, fall in love with her, and have his heart crushed, but it had happened that way just the same.

He steeled his nerves and faced the cowpoke. “My life? Same as always. I’m running a business.”

The old wrangler stared across the room, his gaze burning into Hugh’s eyes. “You need to get this figured out ’cause I’m running out of time, and you’re running out of hope.” The cowpoke’s hand slapped the wooden bar and left behind a single playing card.

With that, the cowboy replaced his hat on his head, spun around, spurs jingling, and left through the doorway without another word.

Hugh stood rooted in place for a long moment, debating whether to look at the card. He stepped closer. With a quick pinch, he flipped the card over, revealing the ace of spades, remembering the angel’s words. Hugh had to choose.

He turned the card over again and studied the dove. Maybe there was a choice—someday. He’d have to think on it. He tucked the ace into his pocket.

Julianne. Hugh thought he’d already chosen to stay away from her, but he realized that confusion still clouded his mind. It’s not a decision if I’m still debating it.

Maybe Reverend Bing would help him know what to do. A spark of hope lit in his chest. He’d visit Callum as soon as Julianne and her parents left town. He just had to avoid her until then. It shouldn’t be too hard—she’d never come to his business and he’d never go to church.

A small knock called Hugh’s attention across the room as Willie walked through the door. “It must be payday,” Hugh called out, glad for the diversion.

“Yes, sir.”

Hugh reached into his pocket and gave the boy a silver dollar. It was a small price to pay to keep that child out of the mines where his father had died. It wasn’t charity either. Willie worked for his pay.

“Thank you.” With his other hand, Willie passed Hugh a piece of paper. “The clerk down to the mercantile sent this bill. He charged your account and says to come get your order.”

Hugh took the invoice. “One box of school primers,” he read aloud. His fingers raked through his hair. Not two minutes ago, he had a simple plan to avoid Julianne. Apparently, Hugh would be seeing her after all. He chided himself. It seemed like he couldn’t make a decision stick at all when it came to that pretty little gal.

Then to Willie, he said, “Can you take my horse and go down to pick it up? The books’ll fit in the saddle bags once you get them out of the shipping box.”

“Yes, sir, I could, but it’s my payday. I need to fetch some stores for my ma.”

“Take the wagon. You can just leave the books crated, then. Better hurry or the mercantile will be closed.” Although he knew it wouldn’t be. In the back of Hugh’s mind, he kind of hoped it was, then he could put off seeing Julianne a while longer.

At least then I could wait until tomorrow to break my heart again.

Willie and his buckboard had barely disappeared around the bend to leave town when a man called a hello. Hugh looked up and recognized him as the man who’d been with Julianne’s parents yesterday after the brawl. He stopped a good ten feet away from Hugh.

“If you love her, you’ll want what’s best for her,” the man said.

Hugh was confused by the strange message and the brass of the messenger. The man certainly referred to Julianne, but Hugh didn’t know what made her the man’s business. He considered ignoring the interruption and returning to his work. He had plenty to do without stirring more misery into the day.

When Hugh didn’t answer, the man added, “Someday you’ll walk out of her life. Maybe you already have. She’ll figure that out and then marry me. Her being a Christian woman is enough to build our marriage on. She’s confused now, but she’ll give up on this town. Julianne simply needs a firm hand to guide her.”

Hugh looked at the smug man, whose chin tipped up defiantly, and then walked within a couple feet of him. He could see a little fear light the man’s eyes as he shifted his weight.

The long pause was broken when Hugh replied, “If you believe any of that, you don’t know Julianne at all.”