Chapter 8

Heartbroken

Brontë Chandler thought about going on out to the fort but being a hero had worn him out. He preferred a soft bed at the Dodge House as opposed to one of those lumpy hard mattresses that the army provided. Besides, he wasn't in the mood to engage in a discussion about Indians or peace treaties or any other problems of the world.

His first priority, naturally, was getting Jack settled for the night. The stable owner seemed to be a trustworthy man and Brontë knew that his horse was in good hands. That was more than he could say for his bag. It had been more out of sympathy than need that caused him to pay Simp Wesley a quarter run it over to the Dodge House while he dealt with Moss. But as he looked around the hotel room, it was nowhere to be found.

He would go look for the boy later but right now he just wanted to rest for a moment. Brontë's step was slow as he walked toward the window. A breath heavy with unfulfilled dreams escaped when he stared down at the saloon across the street. The Long Branch. Home of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. All these years, his mind had lied to his heart, telling him he was completely over her. But he knew that wasn't true the moment he looked into her eyes again.

The most brilliant blue eyes he had ever seen and it hit him just as hard yesterday out there on the prairie as it had that night at Darby's wedding. He could still remember the first time he saw her sitting alone.

"Sally Jane." Brontë grabbed the slender wrist of the bride and pulled her over for a private chat. "Who is that gorgeous woman over there?"

The young bride searched out the woman in question. "Oh, that's my old boss. I mean ex boss because she's obviously not old." Sally giggled, partially because of the misnomer but mostly because of the champagne. "Her name is Kitty Russell."

"Is she married or engaged?" There was no mistaking the hopefulness in his voice.

"Well…" Sally Jane looked back at the lady sitting alone. "Not exactly but I can tell you right now…her heart is not up for grabs."

"Wish me luck." Brontë planted a grateful kiss to the woman's cheek. "Maybe I can change that."

For the next two weeks, Lieutenant Chandler wined and dined the beautiful redhead. They went to a play, took walks through the park, went horseback riding and she was treated to a carriage ride more than once. And of course they talked. Kitty was clear from the beginning that a friendship was all she could offer. Although she never put a name to the man that owned her heart, she did reveal her fears that they would never marry or have a family together.

Despite her honesty, Brontë found himself falling hopelessly in love. The first time he popped the question had come as a complete surprise to both of them. Pierson, the hotel manager had been watching the young soldier's attempt to court the redhead. One evening, he had pulled Brontë aside to tell him of a free concert that was being held by Madison Pond.

The music was a traveling group of troubadours who had ventured to the west to try and spread art and refinement. One had a black eye; another had a sprained ankle, proving that music does not always soothe the savage beast.

The wool blanket protected them from the damp grass and the stars provided a spectacular sky but all he could see was the beauty sitting next to him. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out the question

"Kitty marry me."

The music was suddenly engulfed in her gasp. Kitty began to squirm away from him. "Brontë, I never-"

"Wait." His hand closed gently over her wrist. "I know you never gave me any reason to hope but I can't help the way I feel. I love you."

Kitty settled back on the blanket, her smile one of sympathy, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She studied the face of this wonderful man. "I'm so sorry Brontë." One hand gently caressed his cheek. "I would give anything in the world not to hurt you but I can't marry you."

"Would it do any good for me to ask you to at least think about it? I think I would make a pretty good husband and father. Maybe someday we would have a daughter, with your hair and blue eyes."

"Brontë please, it would not be fair to you."

"Kitty, you've waited six years for this man to settle down. What if he never does?"

The truth hurt and the pain flashed across her face. "Then I will go on loving him forever and that will be enough."

"Mr. Chandler!"

Brontë jerked away from the window, startled by the pounding at the door. Before he could clear his throat to speak, both the pounding and the voice became louder.

"Mr. Chandler, are you all right?" Howie took a step back when the door flew open. "I was beginning to worry. Is everything all right?"

Brontë nodded and wiped at his eyes. "Yeah, I kinda dozed off." He glanced down at the bag in the desk clerks hand. "Is that my bag?"

"Yes sir." Howie handed it over. "Simp misunderstood. He left it on the boardwalk out front."

A warm smile of understanding graced the soldier's lips. "I should have said to my room instead of just, to the hotel. You saved me a trip down stairs. Could you please wake me by six. I have to meet with the marshal."

"Of course. Are you meeting with the council to get the new treaty signed?"

"News travels fast in Dodge." Brontë chuckled at the speed of gossip. "In answer to your question, I need to find out first where the trouble is coming from."

"Sounds like just a few renegades. I heard there have been a few scares and even a horse stolen but nothing serious."

"I hope not. No offense to your fine town but I would really like to get this done and get back home."

"I understand but I hope you have time to mix a little pleasure with business while you're here."

A forced smile remained in place until Howie turned to go back to his post. I guess watching her is pleasurable, Brontë thought, even if I can't have her.