Chapter Seven

Denver, Colorado, one month earlier

Judge Harrison Wesley pushed back his heavy captain’s chair from the supper table, satisfied by the hearty meal weighting his stomach. “That was wonderful!” He patted the waistband of his woolen suit as he looked at his five-year-old daughter, her big blue eyes pulling at his heart. “What do you think, Carlie? What was your favorite dish? I don’t think I’ve savored a better Sunday supper in my life.”

Pauline lifted her brows. “You say that every week.”

“My favorite will be the chocolate cake, Papa. I helped Mrs. Drier with the mixing. We stayed up until eight o’clock.”

Ignoring the soft tsking sound coming from his sister-in-law sitting to his right, Harrison reached over and stroked the underside of Carlie’s chin. “Then I can hardly wait. Did you stick your finger into the batter as sweetener?”

Carlie giggled, causing her chestnut curls to bounce around her small shoulders and the lace collar of her dress. “No, Papa, the sugar did that.” She scooted out of her chair and reached for her plate. “May I help take our plates to the kitchen? We’ll get to dessert quicker.”

“No, my dearest,” Pauline scolded as she patted her lips with the linen napkin.

Carlie’s smile fell.

“Let Mrs. Drier clear the table,” Pauline went on. “That’s what she’s paid to do. You’re a lady. Ladies wait to be served. She’ll be in shortly. Sit and put your napkin back in your lap.”

Pauline. My sister-in-law. The bane of my life. She hadn’t been so controlling when Agnes was still alive, but since Harrison’s wife passed, she’d become downright insufferable. Controlling Carlie all the time. He knew the grief from losing her much-younger sister was to blame, but Carlie was grieving, as well. His little girl needed time, patience, and love. The nine months since Agnes’s death felt like ten years. Time had finally arrived to make a change.

“Nonsense.” He looked at his daughter’s dinner plate—the fine china he’d given Agnes, his second wife, as a wedding present six years ago—practically wiped clean. “I think your helping Mrs. Drier tonight would be very thoughtful. Just be careful with the serving pieces.”

“Harrison!”

His stern look halted Pauline’s next words as Carlie gingerly lifted her plate with both hands and headed for the kitchen.

“You’re ruining that child.”

He pulled a toothpick from his front pocket and put the implement into his mouth. “Please don’t start—not tonight.”

“Agnes would be horrified if she thought Carlie was clearing a table like a common servant.”

He struggled not to frown. “I asked you to stop.”

Carlie returned, followed by a slow-moving Mrs. Drier carrying a large white tray.

The housekeeper and cook had been in the household since he’d married Agnes, and a pleasanter woman he’d never met. She was good medicine for his daughter. Pauline had been living with them as well since the week after the wedding. Unmarried at thirty-one and both parents buried in the graveyard at the church, she had had nowhere else to go. Now, at thirty-eight, she was still a handsome woman but far from the beauty her sister had been. If she’d just smile once in a while or laugh, their lives would be a lot happier.

“That was a fine meal, Mrs. Drier,” Harrison said. “Thank you.” His comment brought a wide smile to the cook’s wrinkled face. Getting into the spirit of what was to come, Harrison himself stood and took up Pauline’s plate, the empty bowl of green beans, and reached for the potatoes.

Mrs. Drier’s eyes went wide. “Sir?”

“I want to help as well. Before I became a circuit judge, I was a lawman. And before that, a simple cowboy. I feel better doing something than sitting on my backside. I hope you won’t mind, Mrs. Drier. We want to get to the cake a little faster.”

With an armful of dishes, he headed toward the kitchen, whistling a jaunty tune and thinking how excited Carlie would be when she heard the news. Pauline’s face flashed in his mind, and he steeled his nerves. She was a formidable woman, but he held the winning hand.

A half hour later, the three, now finished with their dessert, sat quietly at the table. This was when Agnes would read some poetry or share an interesting article she’d seen in the Rocky Mountain News or at times play a piece of music on the piano in the corner of the dining room. His heart squeezed. Would there ever be a time that her memory didn’t color every moment of his life?

He glanced at Pauline’s dour face and then slid his attention to his daughter, who was flicking at a cake crumb on the tablecloth.

Mrs. Drier’s clinking and clanking in the kitchen was the only sound in the room.

Seemed everyone was lost in memory. He gently tapped his spoon on the side of his coffee cup. “I have some news.”

Carlie’s face brightened, and Pauline looked over.

“I’ve had a letter from Justin.”

“Justin!” Carlie said.

Unable to contain her excitement, his daughter bounced up and down in her chair. She adored her older half brother. To her, he set the moon and stars as well as everything else in the universe.

Because of Harrison’s circuit judge position and being gone much of the time, Justin had spent more time with Carlie than he had. That was about to change. “That’s right, sweetheart. A few days ago. He likes his new position as deputy sheriff in Y Knot. Says the country up in Montana Territory is remarkable. I couldn’t agree more. He’s excited to see what life brings next.”

Pauline’s eyes narrowed to a slit. “Is the boy ready for a job like that? Think about the outlaws. And Indians.”

“He’s hardly a boy any longer. I’ve taught him everything I know about sheriffing. Y Knot is just rustic enough Justin will get the experience he needs without facing danger night and day as he would in a more populated place—like Denver. The town is a good starting point for his career.”

“I hope you haven’t just signed his death certificate.”

Carlie cringed, her eyes large.

Harrison sent Pauline a threatening look. “I’ve spent enough time in the Y Knot sheriff’s office to know the checkerboard doesn’t get dusty. And Crawford is a good man. Honest. He’ll teach Justin well. Justin will be a much better deputy sheriff than Jack Jones ever was!”

“Oh, Papa, Justin’s wanted to be a deputy for so long.” Carlie clapped her hands. “Can we go visit?”

Pauline pushed back in her chair, her mouth pinched. “Certainly not, young lady. That’s a man’s world up north. No place for a sweet little princess like you. I’m sure he’ll come here to visit just as soon as he can.”

His sister-in-law would not be happy with his next statement. He should feel guilty about the happiness that thought brought him. “Actually, Justin has invited us to join him, if we have a mind to. Move to Y Knot. I’ve been contemplating my retirement for some time now.” Since Agnes’s death. I want more time with Carlie—before a disgruntled relative of some outlaw I’ve sentenced to hang shoots me down in cold blood. Has happened to more than a few of my friends. “The day has arrived, Carlie, Pauline. We’re moving to Y Knot.”

Pauline’s eyes went wide. The cup she’d been raising to her lips returned to her saucer with a loud clank.

“You can’t be serious, Harrison! That’s… that’s totally ridiculous. You’re talking north. Much farther north than Denver. Think of the winters.” She flipped her hand in front of her face. “The snow. The hardships. The Indians. No! I won’t allow you to put Carlie in such danger. Agnes would never agree to a move to Y Knot. I must act as the child’s protector until you come to your senses.” She glanced over to the liquor cabinet where several crystal decanters sat with a variety of bourbons and whiskeys. “Have you been drinking? You’re taking Agnes’s death harder than I was led to believe. You can’t mean a word of this crazy outburst.”

You’re the one with the crazy outburst. He waved off her concern. The only reaction he was worried about was Carlie’s, and she seemed delighted. “Indians aren’t much of a problem these days, Pauline, but you’re correct about the hardships. We won’t have a house like this. Or paid staff. We’ll be on our own.”

Like when I was a young man. I like the idea. Getting back to a simpler life.

“Please, Papa. I want to live with Justin. I won’t mind cooking and washing and stuff.”

He smiled at her obvious delight.

Pauline’s hands trembled. “What will you do? You’re forty-four years old. Not a young man anymore, by any stretch of the imagination. To be starting over at such an advanced age…”

He held back the retort he felt and, for Agnes’s and Carlie’s sakes, put a smile on his face. “As of yet, I don’t really know what I’ll do, Pauline. Maybe a little ranching. Or work in a shop. I’ve done my time laying down the law as a sheriff and then as a judge. Let someone else do the heavy lifting. I’ll take up the slack. Sounds just about perfect for this time in my life.”

Pauline shifted in her chair and repositioned her napkin. “Think about Mrs. Drier. What will she do? Where will she go? She’s not a spring chicken either.”

He had thought of the cook. Had found a friend who was in need of her services. But what about Pauline? She didn’t have anywhere to go, except with him. And unfortunately, that was the outcome he was expecting. Then again, if she really was too frightened to go north, she might find a way to support herself here in Denver. “Mrs. Drier has been taken care of. I’ve discussed the possibility of other employment with her, but at that time, I hadn’t made my final decision.”

“And you have now?”

Satisfaction settled in his chest. This was the correct decision. He couldn’t wait to get started. “Indeed.”