Page 4 of A Groom for Heather
“Come on in,” he said, scrubbing the dirt from his scalp. The man had returned with the third bucket of water.
“Want me to pour it over you?”
Dalton nodded and leaned forward as the hot water sliced his skin. “Thanks.”
When he was done, the man dropped the bucket next to the two empty ones and pulled a razor from his pocket. “This one is sharp.” He dropped the razor on the washstand and turned to leave. “Do you need anything else?”
“Yeah. See those clothes there?” Dalton pointed to the pile of dirty clothes. “Burn them.”
The man nodded and picked up the clothes, wrinkling his nose as he held onto them. “Enjoy your bath.”
Dalton leaned back in the tub, the hot water covering his chest. He was a tall man, but if he bent his legs enough, he could slide down to where the water hit his chin. His kneecaps were cold from being exposed to the air, so he splashed water lightly on his legs and closed his eyes.
As he closed his eyes, the image of a bruised and battered Frank Drummond appearing behind his eyes. He couldn’t believe that Frank was dead. What was he supposed to do now?
He didn’t want to return to Ohio, even though his mother and sister lived there. Without Richard, there wasn’t any reason to go back. He and his brother were extremely close. Born eleven months apart, they could pass for twins. Richard was the older brother and was very protective of Dalton. Most nights, his brother could be found playing Faro at the saloon where Dalton worked washing glasses and serving whiskey. Richard never drank, but he was exceptionally good at cards.
If only Richard hadn’t gotten into the wrong card game that night with Frank and his outlaw friends.
Dalton opened his eyes and wiped the tear that rolled down his cheek. The water was cold. There was no use getting upset about Frank Drummond. It wouldn’t bring his brother back.
He honestly didn’t know what he was going to do if he confronted Frank. He had never killed another man before. He heard it changes a man … having to kill another man. Fortunately, Dalton would never have to find out now.
He ran his wet hands down his face, then shook off the excess water before he stood in the tub. Quickly drying himself he emptied the tub in the street below. He could see water racing in front of the walkways down towards the cemetery at the end of town.
Placing the empty bucket back by the tub, Dalton picked up the folding razor. As he ran his finger down the edge, the sharp blade nicked his skin. Hissing, he put his thumb in his mouth, the metallic taste of blood covering his tongue.It would do.
It didn’t take long for him to shave and get dressed. He even used the ivory comb on the dresser to comb his hair. There was a cowlick on the side and Dalton used a bit of the grease from a jar to lay it flat.
He needed to make plans.
That would involve a notebook, a lead stick, and a newspaper. And he knew exactly where to get them. He popped a peppermint stick in his mouth and headed towards the mercantile, where he made a silent bet that the woman behind the counter would be more than happy to take his money.
Chapter Two
Early March 1879, Last Chance Nebraska
“You… you…Nincompoop!”
Heather Barnes tried to control herself. She was in Millie Taylor’s house surrounded by the women who had not yet remarried after the September blizzard claimed their husbands. Pastor Barnaby Collins insisted that the women find new husbands immediately or leave to head back to where they were originally from. He did not want to be responsible for a town filled with unmarried, albeit widowed women.
Every time she thought about it, the thought of the pastor’s ultimatum made Heather’s blood boil. Several of the women found new husbands by writing letters to strangers, but Heather refused to even open the envelopes that she selected from the many that arrived in November.
She had been a mail order bride, marrying a total stranger once before. She was fortunate that she had made a love match, as Jackson Barnes was the perfect man for her. Now he was gone, and she had no desire to marry another stranger just so the preacher in town could have his box checked.
Heather bit the inside of her mouth and tried to think of something intelligent to say. Instead, her words just flew from her mouth without a bit of thought.You… nincompoop!She heard Millie stifle a giggle.
“Mrs. Barnes!” Pastor Collins said, lifting his hand to the front of his frock in faux shock. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing.”
“Heather,” Millie warned, placing her hand on Heather’s arm, a smile cracking on her lips. Millie bit her bottom lip and tried to give Heather a stern look. Millie was her best friend and could normally calm Heather right down. They had met on the train coming west to Nebraska and were inseparable since arriving in town. Right now, not even Millie could calm the rage that was seething inside her.
“I can’t believeyou, Pastor Collins!” Heather jabbed her finger in the air at the object of her disdain. The words dripped off her tongue as if the mere act of saying his name was poison in her mouth. “I’ve never seen someone, so self-righteous. So indignant, so pompous! You are a …,” she barked, giving a little jump, “nincompoop!” She gathered her items from a chair and moved towards the door. “I will never marry someone that I don’t love just because you say I have to,” she called over her shoulder as she walked into the cold air. “Millie, I’ll stop by this week to visit.”
“Mrs. Barnes!” Pastor Collins came running out of the house, as Heather climbed into her buggy. “It has been nearly six months. You need to remarry.”
Heather dropped her doctoring bag on the seat next to her and turned around to face Last Chance’s only pastor. “Well, then it may be another six months before I decide to do anything.” She picked up the reins and raised her eyebrow. “Are you planning on nagging me until I marry someone?”
Pastor Collins gave a half bow, twisting his hat in his hands. “I just want what’s best for you, Mrs. Barnes. It doesn’t do for a single woman to be living alone in this wilderness,” he moved his hand around for emphasis. “And especially one with two children in her care now.”
