TWO CHAPTERS IN AS MANY DAYS!
I wanted to get this next chapter out since I will not be able to write for a few weeks. So please, sit back, read, enjoy, review.
He bit down on the stick in his mouth as the medic cut off the hanging piece of flesh. He could smell his flesh cooking as the poker singed the graze, cauterizing what was left of the top of his ear. Tears welled in his eyes as the medic rubbed down the burn with iodine and a sticky salve. Numbness set in as bandages were carefully placed to cover the top of his ear. Still… better to be alive and feel pain than be dead.
Jack glanced over at the three bodies beside them: Cooper, Clarke, and Graham. They were so young, the oldest not even twenty-one. He was tired of seeing boys die.
"Well, Jack," the medic started, "I can't say that your wife will be too happy with you missing part of your ear. But it was just the tip, nothing major is damaged. You just don't look as pretty as you used to."
Jack moved his attention back to the living and gave the medic a pained grin, "Thank you, Lewis."
Lewis gave a curt nod, "If it starts to itch just let me know. For now, I say we get some fires going and get a good night's rest for once."
"I couldn't agree more," Jack drawled.
Lewis helped Jack to his feet as the remaining mounties began to set up camp for the night.
There were four shanties, each with a small chimney or fire pit. Each one could hold four in relative comfortability, more than enough for the mounties and their three captured drug runners. Two of them, nasty looking men with rotting teeth and sores on their faces, fought back, giving Ouimet a black eye and Fraser a broken nose. They were placed in a separate shanty with two mounties on guard at all times.
The third, however, simply raised his hands up, offered to show them were the drugs were stashed, and sat patiently as he was bound and carried off to one of the better kept shanties: the shanty that Jack, Matty and Ouimet were sharing.
It was quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes from falling snow on a dark winter's night. The fire crackled in the small wood-burning stove, filling the ramshackle shanty with a hazy heat. Sweat save the crackling fire and the gentle snores of his fellow Mounties.
Jack had offered to take first watch, giving him a chance to read the latest letters he had received from his last check in at the Mountie post in Yellowknife. The stack was several letters thick, a sure sign that mail had been delayed in getting to him.
Warmth and affection swept over Jack as he noticed the meticulous cursive his name was written in: a shared letter from Lee and Rosie that made Jack chuckle.
Honestly, Jack, I'm going crazy with all of this time off. I've even resorted to cleaning the house! I can't wait to go back to work.
He's been underfoot all week! I love him, Jack, you know that. But my Lord, If I hear him asking for the mop or dusting supplies one more time, I am going to scream!
An envelope with two letters from Abigail and Cody that made him yearn for baseball games and fresh baked scones.
The new Mountie is getting on well enough with everyone in town, even though he is an insufferable little prig, if you pardon my saying so. He doesn't say thank you for anything and has made it abundantly clear what he thinks of women in an position of authority. He even had the nerve to say that my biscuits were dry! Needless to say, he's no Jack Thornton.
I finally figured out how to throw a slider! I just kept practicing like you showed me and I finally got it! Robert hates to play now, since he can't hit it. But I don't mind.
A handmade card from all Elizabeth's students with colorings and drawings that made him long for an innocence he had lost a few months back.
We miss you, Mountie Jack! Come home soon! Mrs. Thornton doesn't know as much about bears and snakes and bugs as you do.
And one letter from Elizabeth… one perfect, beautiful letter that made him dream of home… of her.
I don't know how to write this. I should be able to. I'm a writer for goodness sake, Jack! But by God, I cannot begin to know how to tell you the most wonderful news in the world. I'm pregnant, sweetheart. I'm having a baby. We are having a baby. I'm going to be a mother and you…you're going to be a father, Jack.
How can I even begin to tell you how much I love you or how thankful I am to have been given such a gift?
The letter filled him with such hope and joy that made the painful ache in his shoulder and the throbbing in his ear go numb. A baby.
"It's very kind of you to stay and help me clean up, dear," Abigail remarked as she picked up an empty tea cup, "But you could have gone with everyone to pond. I wouldn't have minded."
A gentle smile, the kind a child gives her mother, danced across Elizabeth's lips, "It's no trouble, Abigail. And besides, it's been too long since we've been able to spend time together, just the two of us."
"Lord knows that's true," Abigail agreed, affection laced with every word, "And in that case, I'm more than happy you decided to stay and help me clean up."
Elizabeth flashed a quick grin as Abigail looked her way but let it fall when Abigail turned her head. She was so tired of smiling, pretending that everything was fine. She was tired, her back ached, and her feet were swollen. Elizabeth's skirt was pinching at the waist and her blouses were starting to pucker at her chest. It was all in service of the precious child growing inside her, and Elizabeth was grateful for it. But by God, she was so sad that Jack wasn't there to experience it all with her.
"Now," Abigail's warm voice cut through the clatter of dishes in the sink, "are you going to tell me what's on your mind, or do I have to pry it out of you with my homemade cocoa and cookies?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I'm not five years old, Abigail."
"No," Abigail agreed, humor sparkling in her coffee colored eyes, "but you do have a sweet tooth. And if I'm right, and you know I am, the cravings are starting."
A moment passed between them before Abigail pointed her finger at one of the dining room chairs, "Sit," was her kind, yet firm command. Elizabeth conceded defeat and lowered herself onto the wooden chair.
Abigail went about the kitchen getting the stove hot for hot cocoa. She placed two mugs and plates on the table before lowering a tin of cookies in front of Elizabeth. Abigail began to stir cocoa powder into a pan of hot milk.
"So, my dear. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"
Elizabeth lowered her gaze to her slender hands resting atop the solid oak dinner table. Where to begin? A million thoughts raced through her head, so many of them conflicting and confusing. How could she be so happy and sad all at once? How could she be so angry, yet so at peace? How could she have everything she had prayed for, yet have none of it?
"Elizabeth?"
Abigail's soft, honey coated voice washed over Elizabeth. She raised her gaze to see Abigail watching her. Tears welled in her eyes, "Oh, Abigail," came out her choked reply.
Abigail left her spot at the stove and shuffled over to Elizabeth's side, grasping her hands tightly as the young school teacher began to cry. Elizabeth began to shake with sobs and Abigail moved to throw her arm over Elizabeth's shoulder, pulling her into a fierce hug.
"Oh, Elizabeth," was all she could think to say.
"I'm trying to be strong," Elizabeth breathed out through her tears, "I'm trying to have faith and just accept all of this as a part of God's plan."
Elizabeth pulled herself out of the hug to look Abigail in the eye, "I'm so happy that Jack and I are married. I… words can't even begin to describe how utterly happy I am that we're having a baby. But he should be here, Abigail. He should get to be here for all of it and reading about it in letters. He deserves to be here for all of it."
Tears welled up and Abigail did her best not to let them fall, "Sweetheart, this life… the life of a Mountie,"
"It's not about his job, Abigail," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, annoyed, "Jack was born to be a Mountie. And I'm so proud of him for that. I am so proud of him for everything he does. But…"
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Why was it so hard to say? Why couldn't she put it into words? She ached all over, a bone crushing pain that only came when a heart wasn't whole. Frustration and confusion boiled up inside her. Sorrow etched onto her face and Abigail watched helplessly silent tears fell down Elizabeth's rounding cheeks.
And then it all became clear.
"It's okay to be angry with God, Elizabeth."
Elizabeth blanched, "Abigail…"
A soft, sad smile made its way onto Abigail's face, "It's okay to be happy and excited for this baby and sad that Jack isn't here. It's okay to be thrilled for that your sister gets to see Tom and hold his hand and talk with him everyday and angry that you can't do the same with Jack. It's okay to be angry with God for giving you so much joy yet allow so much sorrow into your life."
Elizabeth closed her eyes again, more tears falling from the cracks of her eyelids. Abigail pulled her back into a hug as sobs once again wracked Elizabeth's slender frame.
"You get to be angry and confused as to why God is giving you more than you think you can bare. But Elizabeth," Abigail placed both hands on either side of Elizabeth's face, forcing her to look Abigail in the eye, "you can't wallow in it. You can't hold it in. You can't let it take over. That's not who you are."
Elizabeth took in a deep breath, "I know," she whispered, "I know."
"God doesn't promise that bad things won't happen. He just promises that He will be there for us when they do. He promises us comfort and love and peace when all seems lost," Abigail continued, "And you, my dear, have so much to hope for, so much to plan for. You have your students that adore you, you have a sister who is getting married and needs your help and guidance in the coming months."
She placed a loving hand on Elizabeth's barely rounded stomach. Elizabeth's own hand found its way over hers. Abigail held on to it tightly, "And you have… the most wonderful baby on the way. This beautiful little piece of you and Jack. You have the promise of being a mother, Elizabeth… and you've given Jack one of the most wonderful gifts he could ever receive… the promise of being a father."
Silence fell between them as Elizabeth's breathing slowed and eased. Grim determination washed over her as she finally swallowed down the last of her fear. Fear that if she spoke the words aloud that they would come true. That she would turn the tides of fate against their favor if she breathed life into the tumultuous thoughts rattling in her brain. But this is Abigail… her friend… her mother in so many ways that her own mother never could be… never thought to be.
"I worry for him, Abigail," Elizabeth admitted and Abigail's heart broke at the look of grief and sadness that sank into Elizabeth's delicate face, "I worry about the danger he is in, that it will hurt him in a way that he's not prepared for. I worry about the guilt I know he'll feel for being absent from all of this. I worry about the guilt I know he already feels in living so soon after we were married. I just… I love him so," her last words were little more than a whisper, "I know that this will change him in ways that neither of us fully understand. But I don't care. I don't care so long as he comes home and we can face all of it together."
"I know, Elizabeth," Abigail lifted Elizabeth's chin up, "And he will, you have to have faith that he'll come home. Just as he promised."
Elizabeth nodded furiously, fighting back the remaining tears she refused to let fall, "I know."
The snow was beginning to settle on around the door and leak inside the one room shanty. The fire was being stubborn as wind sneaked through the chimney pipe. Jack had stoked it and added fire to it more than once. Sweat was beginning to form over his brow and the back of his neck. The salty water dripped over his ear every now and again, leaving a sharp sting of pain that caused Jack to grit his teeth.
He walked back over to cot and lowered himself down, his back leaning against the wall as he continued to write replies to Elizabeth and the other letters, stopping every so often to fiddle with his wedding ring.
"God's tryna' make the dirty world clean," the prisoner whispered to himself.
Jack glanced up from his writing, his eyes narrowing at the man's words, "I'm sorry?"
The man, who'd been staring through the window at the darkening sky, turned his attention to Jack, fear creeping into his gaze, "I'm sorry, sir. It just slipped out."
Jack closed his eyes, fatigue and cold rolling over him like the wind over the snow drifts, "No… I didn't mean you couldn't speak. I just… what was that? What you said?"
The man swallowed hard, his eyes glazing over as all eyes do when lost in a sweet memory of sweeter times, "It's something my ma' told me when I was tyke," he stopped and chanced a look at Jack, afraid that he was saying too much.
Jack nodded slightly, "Please, go on."
The man, his voice gravely and deep, began, "I was maybe four or five. And it was snowing. I had never seen the snow before. So I asked my ma' what it was. So she told me. But that wasn't enough for me, sir," a smile began to work its way onto the prisoner's face as the memory, long ago buried down deep and safe from the reaches of time, became clearer, "I was a curious little thing."
Jack let free a quick grin, "Most children are."
The man nodded his head in agreement, laughing slightly, "You ain't wrong about that, sir. And I was no different. For every answer my mama gave about the snow, I had ten more. 'Why's it cold, ma'? Why ain't I ever seen it before? Where does it come from?'"
Jack, somehow, could picture it. A little boy, with wonder and curiosity in his eyes, following his mother around the house, underfoot and pestering and loved.
The man continued, laughter still evident in his voice though it was dying down, "And then I asked her, 'What's if for?'"
Jack watched as a deep sadness washed over the man in front of him… a bitter sadness that only comes when hope is lost and faith is destroyed, "And she… I remember she looked out the window at the snow… and she closed her eyes for a moment. It was so quiet," the man paused, quiet like this."
Silence fell between them as the snow kissed the earth.
"She looked down at me and picked me up to look out the window with her, and we watched the snow fall. I asked her again, quieter though, what it was for. And my ma', she just kept watching the snow. I was about to ask again when she whispered, "It's God tryna' make this dirty world clean again…. That was… huh… that was actually the last time I ever talked to my ma'."
The prisoner's words rang in Jack's ears. Flashes of his father, their last conversation, and the countless nights of hearing Tom and his mother cry cycled behind his eyes. Tears were threatening to form. He swallowed to tamp them down, "What's your name, sir?"
The man blanched at Jack's address, "Tremblay, sir. Jeremiah Tremblay."
"Mr. Tremblay," Jack began, curiosity rising within him, "how old are you?"
"I just turned fifty-four, sir."
"And where are you from?"
"Here and there. I lived in Owen Sound for a spell, Kitchener for many years. I was living in Hamilton up till now. But I was born in Sumter, South Carolina."
Jack nodded, silently calculating the time and age in his head. Suddenly, Jack's eyes widened, "You… you were…"
"I was born a slave, sir," Jeremiah stated simply, pain, but no bitterness in his voice, "My ma', she snuck me and my brother out over the fence of the plantation with some other runaways. She got caught by a few dogs… I…."
"I'm sorry, Jeremiah," Jack cut in and Jeremiah glanced up at the mountie, eyes glistening with tears and a silent, empty thanks.
"I did my best, young as I was, to look after my baby brother. Didn't always do the best job, but I tried, sir."
Jack lowered his gaze to the fire between them. His own brother swirling in his thoughts. Tom Thornton, the hellion of a boy that was finally becoming the man Jack always knew he could be. How many scrapes had they gotten into together? How many did Jack have to get Tom out of? How many times had Jack repeated his father's words to look after his younger brother no matter what?
"Have you… did you ever think about going back? I mean… the war ended a long time ago. The law,"
"The law can change in the blink of an eye… we both know that people take a lot longer to change."
Bile collected in Jack's throat, "I wish I could say that you're wrong."
Silence danced between them again.
"So what did you do, once you and your brother reached the border?"
"We stayed in Owen Sound for a while," Jeremiah began to recount his past and Jack listened in rapt attention.
"When I was old enough, I got work as an carpenter's apprentice at the Canada Clock Company, in Hamilton. It closed down in 84' but Mr. Pequegnat, one of the clockmakers, he had been importing watches and clocks from Germany for a while. So he opened up his own little shop and gave me a job as carpenter."
"The Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company, that's where you work?" Jack asked.
Jeremiah smiled, "Yes, sir. Well, it's where I worked up until this past year."
"What a small world," Jack said, "My sister-in-law sent my wife and I a Pequegnat clock as a wedding present. It's a beauty. The gold detailing around the face, the corinthian columns on either side…"
Jeremiah smiled, "Ahh, you got the Grecian Mantle Clock. Mighty fine clock. I designed that one myself."
Jack's eyes widened, "Are you joshing me?"
Jeremiah laughed, a real hearty laugh, "No sir! I designed that clock myself."
"Well I tip my hat to you, Mr. Tremblay," Jack chuckled as he said it.
"Much obliged, Captain."
The laughter died down and Jeremiah fell silent, allowing Jack to study him further.
Jeremiah seemed a quiet, gentle man. He put up no fight when Jack declared him under arrest. He made no attempt to flee as he was tied up and escorted to the shanty. He was good with his hands and capable of making something as simple as a wooden clock a work of art. A craftsman and an artist. And he had a brother, a younger brother that he loved and protected through horrible circumstances. The man in front of him was not a hardened criminal. He was lot like… well he was a lot like Jack himself.
What was Jeremiah Tremblay doing here, so far up North?
"Jeremiah," Jack's words came out slowly, a dead giveaway to the uncertainty behind them, "you seem like a good man. How… how did you…"
"My brother got caught up in all this," Jeremiah answered Jack's unasked question, "with Lao and his partner. Made a few bad bets in some boxing matches and couldn't pay them back. Lao threatened to kill him… and my sister-in-law and my nieces. So I went to Lao, begged him, asked him what I could do."
"Why didn't you go to the police?"
"I did."
"And they didn't do anything?"
"No, sir."
"But why?"
Jeremiah let out a humorless chuckle, "Sir… look at me. What am I?"
Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion. He looked Jeremiah up and down. Jack studied the man in front of him. His dark skin stuck out like a sore thumb against the white blankets of snow behind him, around him. The fire in front of him made his dark brown eyes shimmer like pieces of coal. He was a hulk of a man that had should have taken the strength of three men to detain instead of Jack's strength alone, "I don't under-,"
"I'm a poor, black man," Jeremiah's words were sharp, "I'm a nigger, sir. They didn't give a damn about what was wrong with me or my family. Hell, some of them I know for a fact are on Lao's payroll. Why, on God's green earth, would they do anything to mess with their cash cow?"
Jack sat in stunned silence.
"Anyway," Jeremiah continued his story, "Lao told me that he had some business up north, running product and such. Told me that if I could run product for him to his distributors, he'd consider my brother's debts paid up. Didn't know it was drugs until I got the first shipment up near Fort McMurray."
Jack's jaw clenched. He glanced between Jeremiah and the fire, contemplating and reworking an idea that Jeremiah could see forming in his head. He was a man with a conscience, Jeremiah couldn't deny him that. No, this Mountie was a good man, one of the few really good men he'd ever met. Jeremiah tried to ease his mind, "I broke the law, sir. I know that."
"Yes you did," Jack agreed, "But because we didn't do the right thing and listen and help you."
"You ain't the one that turned me away, sir," Jeremiah spoke softly.
"That's irrelevant," anger was laced in Jack's ever word, "You have just as much right to be protected as anyone else. You were trying to protect your family and you tried to do the right thing. It's our fault that you couldn't continue to do so. You're a human being," disdain dripped off Jack's tongue, "You deserve to be treated like one."
"You're probably one of the few who think so, Captain," Jeremiah whispered in quiet thanks.
"I shouldn't be," Jack whispered in sadness, "I'm sorry for that too."
Silence fell upon them, once again. The snow continued to fall. The fire crackled between them and several mounties began to file into their tents for the night. Jack and Jeremiah sat in companionable silence.
"Wait," Jack cut the quiet, "You said that you know mounties on Lao's payroll."
Jeremiah's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Yes, sir. I do."
A luminous grin began to work its way on Jack's wind whipped lips, "Do you remember their names?"
"Yes, I do, but I don't,"
"Jeremiah," Jack breathed out the man's name, "would you… if you could give me those names, if you could give me any information you have against Lao, I could help you."
"What do you mean?"
A small laugh left his lungs, "Jeremiah, if you help me take down Lao, I can guarantee you and your family protection. I can help you get a reduced sentence, maybe even get your charges dropped. But only if,"
"I'll do it, "Jeremiah answered. Hope glittered in his eyes. Resolve etched itself in his features, "I'll do it, sir."
Jack's smile brightened as he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, setting his letter to Elizabeth aside, "Okay. Let's get started."
Elizabeth closed the door behind her as she walked out of the cafe and down to the gravel street. The sun had nearly set, leaving the wintry sky a plethora of dark oranges and pinks and blues. She could still hear the shouts of children at the pond as well as their parents shouting to get off the ice. A whistle blew in the distance, mixing in with the cacophony of a town fighting desperately to settle in for the night.
She walked slowly to the row house, content to take in the sights of children running home, skates dangling from around their necks and parents chasing after them. Shouts from inside the saloon told her that a fight was beginning to break out, but Elizabeth paid little mind to the men walking into and stumbling out of its doors.
WHAP!
Elizabeth felt a body slam into her, nearly knocking her to the ground, but a calloused hand reached out and caught her arm before she could react. Her gaze shifted over to a young Chinese man. His shoulders were hunched and the collar of his worn jacket flipped up to protect his neck from the cold. His face was hard but his eyes were soft, maybe even sad. His hand let go of her arm as if she had burned it.
"I'm so sorry, miss," his words were frantic, panic evident in his voice, "I didn't see you… please… shit."
His language startled her but it was the fear in his gaze, in his inability to look her in the eye that sent Elizabeth reeling, "It's okay. Than-"
"HEY!"
Elizabeth and the man looked over to the bellowing voice that stood on the saloon porch. He was tall, broad shouldered and bald. His eyes were glazed over and Elizabeth swore she could smell the alcohol on his breath from where she stood on the street. Several men stood behind him, equally drunk and not at all intimidating. No, there were the posse that always seemed to accompany a mindless brute.
"GET THE HELL OFF HER, YOU CHINK!"
"YOU TELL EM' WALT!"
"TEACH HIM A LESSON!"
"PUNCH HIS FACE IN!"
The Chinese man blanched, his entire body went rigid as he practically leaped away from Elizabeth, "I swear, I didn't do anything."
The drunken man stumbled over to them, anger in his gaze and violence on his mind, "Like hell you didn't! I should tear your arms off for even touching her!"
"KNOCK THE PAN FACE STRAIGHT BACK TO CHINA!"
"PUT EM' IN HIS PLACE!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!"
"Please," Elizabeth started, raising a hand up to stop the man from barreling towards them, "It was an accident. He was trying to keep me from falling."
The man didn't seem to hear her as he continued toward the Chinese man, "I've been waiting a long time for this, Joshua," he practically growled.
BANG! BANG!
Fear raced through her as Elizabeth searched frantically for the source of the gunshot. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, only to settle when she saw Bill Avery with a smoking gun pointed up to the sky.
"I SAID THAT IS ENOUGH!" His voice echoed through the suddenly silent street.
The drunken man, Walt, she heard them call him, turned his attention from the man behind her and over to Bill. He looked Bill up and down, studying his stance and his weapon as if he were calculating his potential moves. It was impressive, Elizabeth thought, that a drunk man could be so stupid one second and so thoughtful and incisive the next.
"And who are you?" Walt challenged Bill.
The sheriff gave a glowering stare, "I'm the man who's going to through you in jail for the night if you don't leave those two alone. Might keep you for a couple days even… I'm sure you're foreman at the railroad would love that. It's grounds for dismissal, I think… getting thrown in jail for more than a day."
Even from the drunken recesses of his mind, Walt understood that he had no moves left to make. Check mate.
He turned back to Elizabeth and the Chinese man and pointed a finger at the latter, "Just you wait, Chang. This ain't over."
Walt's friends had walked over to him and began to pull him back inside the saloon, "It ain't over!"
Elizabeth took a deep breath to settle herself. She looked over her shoulder to check on the young man, Joshua, behind her. She was surprised to find Bill right beside him.
"Elizabeth," Bill started, his eyes squared away on Joshua's face, "is everything okay? Did this man hurt you?"
She shook her head furiously, "No, Bill. He was walking out of the alley and accidentally bumped into me. He caught me before I fell."
Bill held his gaze on Joshua for a moment longer before focusing on Elizabeth. Her chin was raised, determination and conviction in her gaze. Bill nodded, accepting her words, and turned back to Joshua.
"I think it's best if you went back to the railroad camps, son," Bill stated firmly. It wasn't up for debate and the young man didn't seem up for a fight. Instead, he nodded vigorously in agreement.
Bill gave a curt nod before walking up the porch and into the saloon. Elizabeth turned her attention to Joshua, "Are you okay?"
The look of shock and disbelief that flashed over Joshua's face caught her off guard. The young man shook his head yes and turned to leave without another word.
"Thank you, Joshua" Elizabeth said as he took his first step, "thank you for catching me."
"I'm sorry I ran into you," was all he said. Joshua was unsure if he should leave. Elizabeth was unsure if she should say anything else.
An awkward silence hung in the air.
"Well," Joshua said, "goodnight Miss…" dang it… what was her name?
"Elizabeth," she supplied, "Elizabeth Thornton. I'm the school teacher."
Elizabeth offered her hand. Joshua took it hesitantly and shook it, "Jiahao.. I mean, Joshua.. Joshua Chang."
Elizabeth's brow furrowed in confusion, "Is it Jiahao or Joshua?"
"Both.. I mean, Jiahao is my real name but…" he stopped to gather his thoughts and settle his rapid heartbeat. Why was he still talking to this woman? It really wasn't the smart thing to do… "but Joshua is easier to say."
"So the men with the railroad decided to call you Joshua?" Elizabeth wanted to kick herself. Quit with the question. Let the man be on his way!
"No ma'am. I picked it. Joshua.. Joshua is my favorite character in the Bible you see… it's his name. What it means."
"Salvation," Elizabeth finished for him.
An honest to God smile graced Joshua's lips, just for a moment, "That's right. We all want salvation, yes? Redemption from the horrible things we've said and done… Aside from love, it is the one thing we all are seeking…. we're... we're the same that way…."
A sweet smile formed on Elizabeth's rosy lips, "That's very true, Joshua."
Another moment of silence fell upon them… this one sweeter than the last.
Elizabeth was the first one to break it.
"Well, Joshua Chang," they both chuckled slightly, "I should be heading home. Have a pleasant evening."
Joshua gave a slight bow and tilt of his head, a sign of respect and gratitude, "You as well Mrs. Thornton. Be safe on your way home."
With that Elizabeth began the short walk back to her home where Julie would surly be up and waiting to regale her with stories from her time skating at the pond with Jesse and Clara and half the children of Hope Valley as well as the latest gossip around the dress shop. And Joshua Chang watched her, confused by her kindness yet thankful for it all the same.
What a strange place… this, Hope Valley.
"Psst…" a whisper from the saloon alley, "Hey…Chang."
Joshua looked down the darkened walkway at the man standing in the shadows. Suddenly, the small pouch in his jacket pocket felt heavier. The paper money in his front pants pocket seemed to weight him down. But still, the man in the alley beckoned and Joshua answered, pulling the small pouch of white powder out and into the hands of the scraggly railroad worker. A few bills were shoved into his hand and Joshua quickly stuffed them with the rest of the money.
"Remember," Joshua whispered, "you didn't get this from me."
The man shook his head vigorously, "Yeah. Yeah I got it."
Joshua looked around nervously before stuffing his hands inside his pants pockets and walking back into the warmly lit main street….
There it is! I hope you enjoyed it.
Again, I will not be able to write/update for a few weeks. My sincerest apologies but you know how work can be.
Please, please make sure to leave a review. They're the bread and butter that keeps us fanfic writers going.
Thanks!
-grayhello22
