Too Close To The Flame

Chapter 10

A Little Thing

Festus pushed Newly into the wagon. "We'se a doing this fur Cooper. We all knowd that Calleigh always took him fishin. Now it's up to us." The hill man threw the poles, along with the lunch that Ma Smalley had packed, into the back of the buckboard. "Coop, climb on up here boy."

The boy had started to pull himself up, but stopped suddenly when he heard Festus call his name."Nobody calls me 'Coop' but Calleigh, Uncle Festus." His voice quivered with the realization of yet another loss.

Festus could only stare at the little boy, unable to respond. He reached up, turning the boy around, then gave him a boost up into the wagon. "Let's be gitten to the Willigers. Them fish is surely a waitin for all them there worms we dug up."

The wagon pulled out and three hapless faces started toward the lake.

Cooper handed the poles and bait to Festus, then climbed down from the buckboard. He put his hand up to shade his eyes from the sun while looking up at Newly. "Aren't you coming down?"

Newly had once again fallen into that blank stare, caught in a place where voices were nothing more than buzzing little sounds in his ear. He strained to pull out of that place, to focus on the little boy. "I'm sorry…what?"

"Aren't you going to fish with us?" Cooper's eyes registered more fear than just the threat of missing a fishing date.

Newly silently cursed his body, forcing it to respond to the simple command of getting up. "Of course I am." His legs felt stiff and heavy, but at least they were moving.

When finally he touched the ground, he felt exhausted from the inner struggle. Newly put his hand on the little boy's shoulder and they walked over to Festus.

The hill man had thrown a blanket down under a shade tree; then opened the bucket of bait and was preparing the poles. "Are ya ready Cooper? I think I heard them fish a callin yur name." Festus held out his hand, waiting for the boy to join him and walk the twenty feet to the pond.

Cooper looked at Newly, his eyes questioning whether or not his brother would be right there. "Newly settled back against the trunk of the elm and nodded to the boy. "I'll be right here, I promise."

The boy trusted Newly implicitly. So, he took Festus' hand and they walked to the edge of the water, settling down on the grassy bank. Newly could hear Festus begin one of his tall tales, in an effort to take his small buddy's mind off of the looming tragedy.

Normally, Cooper would be giggling so hard, he'd be rolling on the ground, holding his belly so that he wouldn't pee his pants. Normally, Festus could do that to him—but not today. At one point, Cooper did almost smile, but it faded so quickly, that Newly wasn't sure it hadn't just been a mirage.

As he gazed at the boy, Newly's mind flashed back to that first night—the night he went home—alone. The first night she was no longer with him…

…Newly had sat in the chair in their bedroom, staring at Calleigh's side of the bed, while thousands of memories bombarded him: The night at the Long Branch, when she came down dressed like a cheap dancehall girl, just to get his attention. Their wedding night, when she truly was a vision. When she was shot and Newly thought he had lost her. That was the memory that seemed to haunt him the most.

He'd thought he was losing her—but he didn't. Not then. Not that night.

But what about tonight—this night? Where was his second chance tonight? Where was his miracle? He wasn't sure how long he sat there, counting off all the things they would never do. Never see. Never have. All he remembered was that at some point he found himself holding her gun. Not his, but hers. What was he going to do with her gun?

Calleigh loved her gun, the way other women loved handbags, or fancy shoes. She had touched each bullet when she loaded the gun. He knew this, and he reasoned that this was part of the decision to use her gun. If only he had taken Thad and Bethany to the station, he would have been the one to die. But… he didn't and it was his fault she was dead. Now, he wanted her gun to take his life, to even out this crazy tragedy.

The gun seemed to fit so comfortably in his hand. Newly pressed the barrel to his temple and relished the feel of the cold steel against his hot flesh. One click—and his pain would be over. One. Click. Such a little thing.

A little thing...

…Cooper was just a little thing.

Newly's hand fell into his lap and the gun toppled to the floor. God, he loved that little boy; but, even more importantly, Calleigh loved him. She adored that child and she would hate him forever if he were to abandon Cooper now. Newly took a deep breath…and rose from the chair. No matter how much pain he had to go through, he would do it. For Calleigh…and for Cooper.

Newly was blessed to escape that memory when he heard Cooper calling to him.

"Newly look. I caught a fish." The little boy held up the day's only catch. His usual exuberance was gone, replaced with a halfhearted smile. The man under the shade tree pulled himself to his knees and opened his arms to the boy. "I knew you could do it."

Festus kept his distance, letting Newly and Cooper have this moment alone. He walked over to the buckboard to retrieve Ma's vittles. As he was lifting the basket, his eyes fell on the worn, wooden planks of the wagon. Images began to swirl in his head… Faces all mixed together: Calleigh grinning at him; his own face consumed in laughter; and the frightened face of Mitch Plager…

Mitch Plager fit the description of a young, cocky cowboy to a T. Twenty-two years of muscle and brawn wrapped around a six-foot frame. He wore a mass of coal-black curls like a cap, cropped close to his head. There wasn't a single girl within fifteen miles that hadn't noticed those amber eyes, which shone like copper in the sunlight.

Even though he had a definite way with the ladies and swore he was best cowboy since William Cody, the young ranch hand had a likable nature that made people give his numerous flaws a little space. Like everyone, Mitch had a weak spot and his was a doozy. He firmly believed in, and was terrified of, ghosts and spirits.

It was late summer when a fortuneteller had passed through Dodge. The black-haired gypsy had stared into her crystal ball and scared the bejeezus out of young Plager. Truth was, the guys in the bunkhouse had paid the traveling woman to tell the young cowhand that the LadyK was haunted.

Not a single spoken word passed between them, yet Calleigh and Festus looked at each other, letting a wicked yet shared smile say it all. Awhile back, the young physician had found a formula, using crushed oyster shells, to make a powder that glowed in the dark; and the two scallywags had been waiting for the perfect opportunity to use it. This was it.

The rest of the ranch hands managed to set Mitch on edge with a few stories and hints of previous cowboys disappearing around the LadyK. Trying to maintain his macho façade, Mitch quickly made his way to his bunk at the back of the long room. As much as it scared him—sleeping next to an open window—he chose to do just that, in order to have a quick escape plan.

Naturally, his sleeping arrangement proved to be a perfect adjunct to their plan.

Against Newly's advice, the two misfits spread the powder over their hair and faces, donned a couple of sheets around their bodies and off they went. Anguished howls, much like a sick calf, brought Mitch bolting upright in his bunk and reaching for the shotgun braced against the wall.

This was something neither of the pranksters had considered. The racking of the gun fueled more fear in the two of them, than the ghost had done to Mitch Plager.

Now the screaming was real, as Calleigh and Festus scrambled to get out of range of the shotgun. Human legs just weren't made to outrun a barrel of rock salt; but soft backsides surely made good targets.

Afterward, both Festus and Calleigh shouted, cried and begged not to be taken to the LadyK. The last thing either of them needed—or wanted—was Doc's chastising, not to mention his condescending ridicule. Newly listened quietly as he loaded the two injured parties into the back of the wagon, both lying face down, then headed for the LadyK…

Festus was caught up in a juxtaposition of emotion: as the memory caused a burst of spontaneous laughter; while simultaneously, the inescapable pain brought with it uncontrollable tears. He fought to suppress both as he looked over at the widower and the little boy. He swiped the back of his hand and sleeve across his eyes to dry the tears. Festus grabbed the basket. Taking a moment, he drew in a deep breath, then released it slowly as he walked toward his fishing companions. Forcing a smile—or something that resembled it—he vowed not rob them of these few seconds of peace.

TBC