Reflections

That letter, that blasted letter was still burning a hole in my pocket, and I wished more than anything I could just throw it in a fire and forget all the information I'd read in it. On more than one occasion I'd started to do just that, but something always stopped me and I'd just end up reading it again. I finally learned to stop pulling it out altogether; out of sight, out of mind and all that. I wasn't successful in driving all the thoughts of it from my mind, but not looking at it did help me not to think about it every waking moment. Only every other moment.

Even after all this time I was still stunned by what I'd learned in that letter. Lenora had a child, a child fathered by me. The revelation hadn't been expected or welcome and I still had trouble believing it had happened. Not that I'm so dense I don't realize how it happened, I'm merely stunned that it did. After all, Lenora wasn't the only woman I've shared a bed with, but none of my other dalliances have resulted in a child. Not to my knowledge anyway and I'm certainly not making plans to explore the issue. The boy in question was causing me enough turmoil as it was.

Ah, the boy. Lenora called him Jasper in her letter, but in my mind, I was finding it easier to simply think of him as the boy. Lenora claimed she conceived him during our time together and after reading through her letter just once I found it was a claim I was unable to deny. That fact alone was enough to disturb me. When have I ever had an issue with denying anything? I vividly recall standing in front of many professors and headmasters and looking them square in the eye while I lied through my teeth. And I'm no stranger to shady dealings either. So why, when faced with the choice of admitting to something that would alter my entire life or simply denying everything, had I admitted I was the boy's father? That was the question I had asked myself countless times since that fateful letter arrived, and I still had no answer for it.

Another question kept running through my head as well, but that was easy for me to answer. Why had I gone to Bart Maverick for help? Well, I may not yet know what had prompted me to tell Winters the boy was mine, but the fact was, I had claimed him. Another inescapable fact that went hand in hand with that one was I am in no way prepared or qualified to take care of a child of any age, much less one as young as Lenora's boy. However, Winters had needed a quick reply to his letter so when I'd made the rather irrational decision to tell Winters to go ahead and send the boy to me, I'd done the only thing that made any sense. I informed Winters I accepted the boy and then had him sent to the only man I knew I could trust; Bart Maverick.

By this time I was sure Bart was aware I hadn't been totally honest about what I'd asked him to do for me, but I knew he wouldn't be too taken aback by that. I was just as certain that even if the situation was more complex than he'd guessed, he would do precisely what he said he would. Doubtless, he'll have something to say about all this when we finally meet again, and this might very well be the thing that will erase any feelings of forgiveness he has for that whole saloon debacle, but what other choice did I have? I needed time to sort things out, to think the situation through and decide just what I was going to do about this bizarre inheritance I'd been given.

Knowing the boy was at least safe allowed me to turn my mind to other matters, namely where I went from here. Never before had I once imagined I would find myself in a position like this, and yet here I was. It was hard enough to come to terms with the fact I'd fathered a child to begin with, much less that I'd agreed to take over guardianship of him. Had I simply received word from Winters about the matter, perhaps I could have forgotten the whole thing, denied I had anything to do with the boy's birth, and tossed the letter out without a thought. In fact, I was sure I could have done that, and Lenora probably knew that too. I'm sure that's why she hadn't left the matter solely to Winters but instead, penned her own letter. It wasn't Winters I couldn't resist, it was Lenora.

I know most people would say I loved Lenora or some such nonsense, but that wasn't true. Oh, I certainly had a fondness for her, perhaps even more than I normally possess for a lady, but there was nothing as dramatic as love in our relationship. Lenora and I were two consenting adults, and we'd both received a great deal of enjoyment from our time together. When the time came to part ways, it was a mutual agreement, and we'd gone our separate ways with no regrets and fond memories. By saying all that I don't mean to imply Lenora was just another woman, she certainly wasn't; she was exciting and passionate and unlike any woman I've known before or since. As I said, I enjoyed my time with her, but I refuse to say I loved her. Still, when she'd written a personal letter to me specifically asking that I claim guardianship of her son, I'd been unable to refuse. She always was a compelling woman.

Whatever the reason was, the fact remained that I'd agreed to do it, and now I was left wondering what to do with the boy. Why Lenora made such an outlandish request, I'll never know. She'd said she didn't want the boy in a home, and I could understand that, but had there been no one more capable, more responsible, than me to send him to? Maybe I'd fathered the boy, but I'd never once laid eyes on him, I hadn't even known of his existence until that letter arrived. Was there no one in Lenora's life willing or able to see after him? Lenora knew me, the way I lived, the way I moved around; the way I did business. Truth be told I do well to see after myself, how on earth am I supposed to see after a child? Funny, I've always thought of Lenora as being a particularly intelligent woman, but father or not, what woman would want her child left with me?

There were too many questions I couldn't answer and didn't know if I ever would, but still, the most important one was, what did I do next? The boy was safely with Bart and his lovely wife by now, and it was tempting to leave him there. More than once I'd thought of just sending Bart a healthy amount of money and a letter of apology, and then running as far away as I could with no intention of ever looking back, ever meeting the boy, or ever seeing Bart again for any reason at all. It was a good plan but I was unable, much to my dismay, to follow through with it. Even the best of us can fall prey to a bout of decency every now and again, and Bart always seems to be involved when mine come upon me. Maybe it was because of that saloon business before. Maybe it was because even I couldn't justify Bart being responsible for the lad for the next fifteen years. Maybe I just didn't want to burn my very last bridge with Bart. Maybe it was . . . no. There were many reasons I could think of for running being a terrible idea, but me not being able to leave without the boy wasn't one of them. Even if he'd come from my loins, he meant nothing to me outside of the fact he was so important to Lenora.

I sighed as I aimlessly rode down the road. The situation was no clearer to me now than it had been before. For literally days now I'd been on the road going through all this and no matter how many times I went over the same problems I couldn't find a solution. And I had to come up with some kind of solution. Bart's a generous man, but even he would only keep the boy for so long before he started looking for an out too, or rather looking for me. He's a good enough man that he might give me the benefit of the doubt and let things lie for a few days, but if he doesn't hear from me soon, the search will start and I won't fault him when he does come looking for me. I certainly wouldn't keep another man's child and family is far too important to Bart for him not to be filled with ideas about needing to take responsibility for the boy and all that. I'm afraid he is going to be out of luck if he looks in Saint Louis, however. I still haven't made it there, and frankly, I wasn't sure I would.

I hadn't intentionally misled Bart when I told him Saint Louis; when I left Little Bend, that's exactly where I'd planned to go. Saint Louis is a wonderful town and a good place to get lost in, I figured I could spend time there unencumbered and sort out just what I was going to do with the changes I'd accepted into my life. However, the further north I went the more unsettled I became and the more Saint Louis begin to lose its appeal. I was now just outside of a town called Henderson in Arkansas, and for some unexplainable reason, I found myself unwilling to continue on to my chosen destination. I'd been dragging my feet about getting there as it was and now I was thinking I needed to abandon the idea altogether.

"How would you like a rest, my friend?" I asked my horse patting his neck. "Surely this place has a livery for you and a hotel for me."

Our pace had been so leisurely that I didn't think either one of us was in that much need of rest, but it was as good an excuse as any to stop for a few days. I was hoping the town would have some decent accommodations for me, but regardless of what I found there, I planned on finding myself a room and a bottle of whiskey. I would either find a solution to this mess or forget about it completely.