Page 111 of My Heart Will Find You

“Pretty much.”

“But I asked people what happened that day. Rufus and Pat ran away and wouldn’t answer my questions. I thought it was because everything was so awful. Are you saying that no one would tell me about it not because I’d made a fool of my husband, but because my husband had made a fool of himself?”

“That’s not exactly how I’d put it, but yes.”

She stood up. “It was a boys’ night out? Was there gambling?” He nodded.

“Dancing?”

“Quite a lot.”

“Did you...?” She motioned to her face to indicate painting it.

“I did. I had to stop at the homestead to scrub down. I didn’t want you to see what I’d done. I was afraid you’d think less of me.”

Etta was trying to soak this in. “Before you went, did my arguments persuade you in the least?”

“No. Not at all. Your safety is important to me.”

It was as though life was coming back to her. “Safety? You had a drunken party!”

He smiled. “That’s true, but we didn’t know if the Cheyenne were going to show up.”

“And join you? Did you have enough food and beer for them?”

“We did.”

“You’re a horrible person,” she said.

He didn’t smile. “Maybe I am, because I’ve done something else.”

Etta was so happy that Max wasn’t angry at her that she felt he could do no wrong.

“I invited people to dinner tonight.”

She stood up. “I’ll start cooking.”

“No. That’s all done. The woman who works for Kecklin sent over some food.” He gave a half smile. “I sure couldn’t leave it up to Cornelia and Alice to cook.”

Etta took a step back. “Who did you invite?”

“The people you wanted,” he said happily. “Cornelia and Alice found out who the woman at the dressmaker was. Lillian Oates. And they found the painter, and Martha is coming.” His eyes were sparkling. “We did it all in secret.”

“And they’re coming here tonight?” Etta’s voice was a whisper.

“Yes.” He was smiling proudly.

Etta sat back down on the bed. “Then it’s over. The massacre was averted and now Henry and Martha are here.” She could hardly speak. “And Lily is coming. It’s all done.”

Max looked at her in confusion. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“To see her again,” Etta said. “She was so very sick.” She looked back at Max. “To see her now, then go back to her not being there. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Max had no idea what she was talking about, but he could see that his surprise was a failure. “You don’t have to be there.” He turned to the door. “We’ll send a plate up to you.” He looked back at Etta. “If the ‘her’ you’re talking about is the seamstress, she won’t be here. She won’t come. I don’t know why. Maybe she’s afraid of losing her job.” He opened the door.

“So only the painter is coming?”

Max didn’t look at her. “Yeah. And Martha will be here. I’m going to put a shotgun under the table in case she gets too feisty.”

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