A Cord of Three
Chapter 1
March 1862
Jimmy
The silence around the supper table was nothing new. Many meals had been shared in the vacuous quiet for quite some time now. Noah's death. The absence of Kid and Lou. Jesse's disappearance. Cody's now-often empty place.
It seemed that as the circle around the table grew smaller, each member who still claimed their place in that haphazard family drew more and more into themselves, keeping their eyes averted from those who knew the hurt they carried but were too broken to share. Maybe shutting out those who remained was the only way to survive. Or to grieve. Or to do whatever the hell it was that they were supposed to be doing.
Talking was too dangerous. Words uttered simply for the sake of conversation were so obviously forced that the inevitable awkwardness pressed more heavily than the silence. And, God forbid, if one dared speak about anything of consequence - anything that mattered - emotions could be stirred, feelings agitated, and the fragile thread that held each of them in the fraying bonds of their familial friendship might be severed forever.
At least that's how it appeared to Jimmy. The ever-increasing silence, he reasoned, was the vain attempt of those who were left to hold on to what they had become before this insidious war had swept its way across this vast country like a prairie fire.
He shifted uncomfortably and dragged his spoon across the bottom of his bowl, not daring to look up, despite the fact that he knew instinctively Teaspoon was eyeing him closely. He had only returned to Rock Creek that afternoon and Jimmy was certain the grizzled stationmaster, as well as the others, were curious why he had come back alone. Nobody had dared ask, though, and, for the time being, that was how he wanted it.
The truth was, he felt like a fool. How many times had he argued with Kid over Rosemary? How many times had he defended her? Fought for her? Even told himself he loved her? But he'd left her in Kansas with Celinda and Nathan. He'd grown tired of trying to convince himself of things.
"Jimmy?" It was Rachel who dared break the silence and the hesitance in her voice was not lost on him.
With an audible sigh, he lifted his deep brown eyes to her vivid blue ones.
"Yes, Rachel?" He tried his best to sound casual, but knew he failed considerably.
"I was wondering if you could help me with some chores after supper. If you aren't too tired," she added quickly. "Buck is going to mend the corral fence, and I was hoping you could help me haul some wood. The nights are still cool."
Jimmy noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She looked as tired as he felt. He nodded and pushed himself back from the long table, stretching his aching back.
He glanced at Teaspoon. "Do you need me in town tonight?"
Teaspoon shook his head. "No, son. Stay here and help Rachel. Then get a good night's sleep. I can spare you until tomorrow."
Jimmy shuffled to the door and picked up his hat. He turned to Rachel and gave a small smile. "No problem, Rachel. I just need some air. Be back in a few minutes."
With that, he stepped onto the bunkhouse porch and let the door swing shut behind him, leaving most of his stew untouched and any explanation the others might have been hoping for unsaid.
"Rachel?" Jimmy knocked softly on the front door and waited for the sound of the turning doorknob. It was almost immediate, as if Rachel had been standing directly on the other side of the door anticipating his arrival.
She smiled when she saw him and Jimmy was struck again by how beautiful the blond haired, blue eyed woman really was. Of course he had thought so from the first moment he had set eyes on her. All the boys had. But if Jimmy had learned anything about women, it was that quality of character only served to deepen one's beauty, while lack thereof rendered even the most physically attractive woman distasteful. In the time he had known her, Rachel had proven that her outward beauty was simply a reflection of the kindness within. His respect for her had grown, and though he didn't always know how to express his gratitude in words, he was thankful for the woman who was like a mother, sister, and friend all in one.
"Come in, Jimmy." She stepped aside and ushered him into the small room where he immediately noticed two cups and a steaming kettle sitting on the small table in the corner.
"Hang on, Rachel," he began, an unsettled feeling creeping over him immediately. "I thought you needed help splitting wood."
Rachel shut the front door with a bang of finality and laughed lightly. "I do. But first, I was hoping we could talk."
Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, but Rachel spoke quickly, her expression turning serious. "It's not about Rosemary."
Jimmy felt only a small sense of relief. He was wary of whatever conversation it was she was hoping to have with him, even if Rosemary wasn't the topic.
Rachel sat down in a chair and motioned for Jimmy to do the same. It didn't escape his notice that she chose the one nearest the door, and he walked reluctantly to the other, feeling the jaws of the obvious trap she had set closing in on him.
She poured a cup of steaming tea into the rose painted cup and set it in front of him. Then she did the same for herself and took a long sip, carefully avoiding his eyes. She placed the cup back on the table gently and ran a finger along the edge, tracing the lip in a long lingering movement. It was obvious to Jimmy she was trying to figure out exactly the words she wanted to say, and he was just annoyed enough at the turn of events that he wasn't going to throw her any kind of lifeline.
He sat silently and stoically. Waiting.
She finally raised her eyes to his, the signs of exhaustion he had noticed at dinner more pronounced, and cleared her throat.
"I got a letter from Lou today."
Jimmy didn't know what he had been expecting Rachel to say, but whatever it was, it wasn't that. And it was like a blow.
For nearly five months now, ever since Kid and Lou had left Rock Creek for Virginia, he had tried his damndest to avoid talking about either one of them. He knew the others received letters from them quite frequently, and initially they had tried to share whatever news those letters offered. But it had quickly become apparent that if there was one topic Jimmy was absolutely not going to discuss, it was Lou and Kid. The others had eventually stopped talking about them when he was around, and he couldn't recall the last time he had heard either of those names spoken out loud. Until now.
Without thinking, Jimmy put his hand inside his pocket and touched the worn edges of the note he kept there. That was it. The only piece of them - of her - he had left. But the others didn't know he carried that letter with him always. They only knew that where Kid and Lou were concerned, bringing them up was out of the question.
He was shocked that Rachel dared to tonight. He felt every muscle in his body tighten and a surge of anger course through him. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and gripped the edge of the table, willing himself to stay in control.
"Is that why you tricked me into coming here, Rachel?" he spat. "So, you could tell me something I have no interest in hearing?" He started to rise from his seat, but Rachel touched his hand gently.
"Please," she pleaded. Her tone was gentle but urgent at the same time. "I wouldn't have done it, but this letter was different. Lou asked that you read it."
Jimmy's eyes met Rachel's blue ones. "Why?"
Rachel sighed, apparently weighing her next words carefully."Because despite everything that has happened, Jimmy, she loves you."
Jimmy felt his anger dissipate in one fell swoop, only to be replaced with something far less comforting. Something he'd tried to deny. To run from. Forget. It had plagued him for months, made worse with each passing day. He thought that he could ignore it and eventually, it would give up and let him go. But shame was a cruel master. It tightened its noose relentlessly, choking out the reality of what had been good and beautiful and leaving only bitterness and hatred in its place.
He stared at the hand Rachel still held on top of his own, and, despite the storm of emotions raging within him, recognized the gesture for what it was: an offer of friendship and safety, a thread of hope that the healing of their fractured family was still within reach. She probably knew more than anyone what had happened between him and Lou. Hell, she probably understood it better than either of them. And she wasn't judging him.
Jimmy disentangled his hand from hers and reached for his cup of tea. He took a drink, needing a few seconds to collect his thoughts, to reign in his emotions. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he offered, no anger in his voice now. "What has happened between us- to me, Kid, Lou, Jesse, all of us...I know you've lost something too."
He didn't miss the tears that filled her eyes before she stood up and turned her back to him. She stood still for a moment before slowly crossing the room to the stone fireplace that filled the opposite wall and picking up an envelope from the mantle. Returning to the table, she placed it beside his cup and patted his arm affectionately. "Thank you, Jimmy. I appreciate that."
Quietly, Rachel picked up some gloves on the other side of the table and made her way to the door. She turned the knob and was halfway outside when she looked over her shoulder at Jimmy, whose gaze had followed her as she made her exit. She was obviously attempting to give him some privacy when, and if, he actually opened the envelope before him.
"But Jimmy," she whispered, the tears that had filled her eyes threatening to spill over. "We've all lost things we can never get back. Don't let Lou be one of those."
The door closed behind her and she was gone, her words hanging in the air like a ghost, a ghost with whom Jimmy knew he couldn't fight. Enemies you could see were one thing; they could be dealt with quickly, easily, permanently. But truth - truth couldn't be silenced with a quick draw and ivory colt. It always seemed to come back for you, lurking in shadows and clinging to cobwebs of memories or regrets. Or, as was the case tonight, breathed into language by those who know you best.
Jimmy rubbed his temples hard. He hadn't really noticed the dull ache behind his eyes until now, but suspected it had been there most of the day. He took another sip of the tea Rachel had made, glanced around the empty room as if to make sure he was really alone, then reached out his arm to pick up the envelope. He held it delicately, loosely, careful to keep it at arm's length, as if gripping it firmly with both hands and holding it close would cause it to disappear. Funny, he mused. That's what I thought about her.
The writing on the envelope matched that on the note in his pocket and he was surprised by the visceral reaction he had to seeing it again. It was like holding a piece of her and, despite his feelings of dread and downright terror at the words he might find enclosed, he realized that not knowing what she had apparently wanted him to, would be infinitely worse. He opened the envelope and slipped the letter out so he could read.