CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Christmas Day passed much too quickly with present opening, playing with Samantha and her new toys and enjoying Christmas dinner. Hank was surprised to find that Myra had bought two gifts for him without him even knowing about it and he loved both. She had chosen a beautiful silver pocket watch - something he had never owned and occasionally thought he ought to get for himself - and the other larger box held a new hat, similar to his old one which was scuffed, dusty and ready to be thrown out. Myra loved the new nightgown and tried it on that night, along with another dab of perfume, although the pretty pink garment didn't stay on her very long.
All too soon it was Thursday and they ate breakfast together in silence, both reluctant to leave the house as it meant Myra going back to work and Hank leaving on the train. Hank didn't need to leave until ten o'clock so they said goodbye and he remained at the house for another hour after Myra and Samantha went out.
He vowed to return quickly, at least within a month, but it seemed like an endless period of time as he later sat on the train, gradually being taken further and further away from St Louis. When he finally arrived back in Colorado Springs on Saturday morning, of course the first person he saw was Horace, standing on the platform waiting to help anyone who needed it. He was the last person Hank wanted to see at that moment. All he could think about was the fact that Myra was eight hundred miles away and he didn't know how he would stand it until he could go back.
"Mornin', Horace," he grunted, stepping around the other man. Horace turned, strode past him and halted in front of him, forcing him to stop again.
"What were ya doin' in St Louis, Hank?" he demanded.
"What makes ya think I was there?"
"You were in the newspaper. Dorothy gets lots of papers, includin' one from St Louis. So what were ya doin' there?"
"Mind yer own business," Hank said.
"No, I won't. Ya went to see Myra, didn't ya?" Horace persisted.
"Horace, I went to see she how she was," said Hank with a sigh, deciding it best not to tell him Myra had written to him.
"Ya got no right!" exclaimed Horace, his eyes bulging with sudden anger.
"I got every right!" Hank snapped back. "She ain't yours no more, ya divorced her! You ain't the only one that suffered, Horace. How'd ya think she felt gettin' a wire from Michaela last year tellin' her ya tried to do yerself in? Huh? It was me told her to go back there and forget about all this! I figured it was time someone checked she was alright after everythin' that happened."
"Oh!" Horace sighed heavily and his shoulders sagged. "I didn't know. How is Myra?"
"She's fine."
"What about the robbery? She wasn't hurt?"
"No one got hurt, 'cept me and the robbers."
Horace nodded. "Well, maybe it's a good thing you were there, then," he conceded. "I just want her to be happy, that's all. She never was with me."
Hank raised an eyebrow, surprised by Horace's words. "Well, she is now," he said. "I gotta go." He stepped past Horace again and headed for the Gold Nugget.
Jake wasn't there yet and the girls were still in bed, but the hotel manager was attending to a couple of guests who wanted coffee. Hank strode in and went straight up to his room to get changed and dump his bag. By the time he returned to the bar, Jake had come in.
"Thought you were never gonna come back," he said with a grin. "Least ya got a good excuse."
"Intended to be back long before now," Hank said.
"Too busy bein' a hero, huh?" Jake pointed at a copy of the St Louis newspaper which was lying on a table.
"How many copies of that did Dorothy get?" he asked.
"One originally, then she sent for some extra ones. She reckons she's gonna interview ya for the Gazette too. Sounds like yer lucky to be alive."
Hank smirked. "It was nothin', I was hardly at death's door like it says."
"Yeah, ya probably made the most of it, all them pretty nurses runnin' round ya."
Hank snorted now. "So what's been goin' on here? I miss anythin'?"
"No. You ain't gettin' away that easy, Hank. What about Myra?"
"What about her?"
"Well, since ya don't look ready to kill somebody, I guess she musta been glad to see ya."
"Obviously, since she asked me to go visit in the first place."
"Well? What happened? Ya carry on where ya left off before Horace stuck his oar in?" pressed Jake.
"Go to hell," Hank said with a grin. "It's my business."
"Easier gettin' blood out of a stone," Jake muttered. "I gotta go open the barber's shop, I'll be in later for a drink."
He left the hotel and Hank poured himself a whiskey and lit up a cigar, then sat down in a corner of the bar. Myra and St Louis suddenly seemed an awful long way away.
He was just finishing the cigar when Dorothy walked into the hotel, her reporter's notepad hanging around her neck and a determined look on her face. Hank rolled his eyes up and blew his breath out loudly as she glanced from left to right and then made a beeline for him.
"Good mornin', Hank," she began.
"Dorothy," he nodded.
"May I sit?"
"Sure." He gestured at the chair on the other side of the table and she sat down quickly.
"I read about what happened with the bank robbery – the St Louis Post is one of the papers I subscribe to."
"So I've been hearin'. What about it?"
"Well, I was wonderin' if I could interview you for the Gazette. Folks would like to read about what happened from your point of view. It's not often one of our town does somethin' so noteworthy."
"Get on," drawled Hank with a smirk. "Folks 'round here ain't never gonna see me as a hero."
"Some already do. You saved people's lives, Hank, and brought down the McDonald gang. That's somethin'."
"I guess." Hank raised one eyebrow. He hadn't minded in the least being called 'brave' in the St Louis newspaper. "What d'ya wanna know?"
"Why don't ya start by tellin' me what ya were doin' in St Louis?" asked Dorothy.
"Lookin' for talent," grinned Hank.
"Oh! Well, maybe we'll skip that part." Dorothy lowered the pencil which she had poised over her notepad, a slight frown on her face.
"I'm jokin', Dorothy. Look, maybe this is a bad idea. I ain't sayin' why I was there, I don't want that in the Gazette."
"Did ya go to see Myra?" Dorothy asked in a low voice. "I know she works in the bank there."
Hank scowled. "Print that and I'll sue you and the Gazette for every cent ya got!"
"Alright, Hank, why don't I just say you were on business?" she said with a sigh. "Folks won't care what you were doin' anyway, they'll just wanna know about the robbery."
"Fine. I was on business. I was walkin' down the street where the bank was and somethin' was clearly goin' on, folks stood around outside whisperin'..."
Dorothy scribbled avidly on her notepad, occasionally interrupting with questions until Hank had finished describing the robbery.
"So what happened afterwards?" she said then.
"Dunno. I was out of it for three days. Ain't nothin' more to tell."
"But what have ya been doin' since? The robbery was three weeks ago now."
"Convalescin'," said Hank. "That's it. Like I said, ain't nothin' more to tell."
"Alright, Hank." Dorothy pushed her chair back now and got up. "I'll put this in the next issue of the Gazette."
She left the hotel and Hank put his feet up on the chair she had vacated, pulling out another cigar. After only a couple of hours in Colorado Springs, already he was longing to go and get on the next train back to St Louis. However, his thoughts were soon interrupted by the girls appearing, surprisingly glad to see him after his unkindness to them before he left. They flocked around him, squealing and chattering about what a hero he was and how delighted they were to have him back. He grinned and couldn't resist boasting a little, relishing the attention, but in the end he was glad when they left him alone.
However, late that night when the bar finally closed, he was already half asleep when he was disturbed by Suzie, one of the newest girls, creeping into his room and slipping into bed with him.
"Thought ya might be wantin' some company," she purred, snuggling up to him. "We all missed ya." She stroked her hand over his chest and touched her lips to his cheek.
Suzie was young and lithe, probably only twenty years old and with masses of golden hair which now brushed his face as she leaned over him. His body reacted to her immediately and he lifted his hand to touch her breast, but even as he did it he thought to himself, 'What the hell're ya doin'? How can ya think about marryin' Myra, someone ya love, and then carry on behavin' like a dog?'
"Get outta here!" he snarled, shoving his hand roughly against Suzie's shoulder, much harder than he intended. She flew off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud and a squeal.
"Why'd ya do that?" she whined, sitting up.
"If I want company, I'll ask for it!" he barked at her. "In the future, keep outta my room 'less yer invited!"
"Fine!" Suzie scrambled to her feet, flounced out and slammed the door behind her.
Hank lay back against the pillows with a sigh and closed his eyes, briefly thinking that if Suzie gossiped, his reputation would be ruined. Still, that would happen anyway before too long. What was more important? Being happy or having the likes of Loren and Jake pull his leg? He grinned now in the darkness, picturing Loren catching flies and Jake getting his own back for the amount of times he'd teased him about Teresa Morales. However, surprisingly it wasn't Loren and Jake who discovered his intentions towards Myra, but Horace.
A few days later Hank went into the telegraph office to send a letter to Zack. Dorothy's edition of the Gazette featuring Hank on the front page had since come out and a copy was lying on the counter in front of Horace. He eyed it with a grin; Dorothy had actually made a pretty good job of it and a number of people had commented on his heroism since reading it.
"Suppose yer proud of yerself," Horace grunted.
"Ain't often folks say anythin' good about me."
"Ain't often ya do anythin' good. So, did ya see much of Myra after?"
"Some. She cared for me after I got shot," admitted Hank, wondering where the conversation was going. Horace was going to be the hardest obstacle to get around if Myra were to come back to Colorado Springs, because she wouldn't want to hurt his feelings. Horace's face paled a little and his jaw twitched.
"You asked," Hank reminded him.
"Yeah. Well, like ya said, she ain't mine no more," muttered Horace.
"She ain't mine neither, but I'm hopin' she might wanna be," Hank said slowly.
"Ya want her to work for you again?" demanded Horace, his face shocked now. "Is that all ya think about? Usin' folks to make money? Myra's got a good job, she won't wanna work for you, especially considerin' how ya treated her before! And what about Samantha?"
"Woah, Horace, slow down, I don't want her to work for me, I wanna marry her!" blurted out Hank.
Horace's stunned expression only increased at this announcement. "You wanna get married?" he said incredulously.
"That so strange?"
"You ain't the marryin' type," Horace pointed out.
"I didn't used to be. You gettin' there first kinda changed my mind," admitted Hank.
Horace eyed him thoughtfully for a long moment before he spoke again. "Does she love ya?" he asked at last.
"She says so."
"Then ask her," Horace said shortly.
"Ya givin' me permission, Horace?" Hank teased, more surprised than Horace had looked at his confession that he wanted to get married. The whole conversation had surprised him, considering that Horace had always hated him.
"I want Myra to be happy. If ya make her happy – and I have to say I can't figure out why, but if ya do - then I ain't gonna say nothin'. Only thing that concerns me is Samantha. I barely see her as it is," Horace said now.
"That's somethin' yer gonna have to sort out with Myra, but I ain't gonna be gettin' in the way of ya seein' yer kid, Horace. Fact is, ya'll probably see more of her than ya have in a while if they move back here."
"They plannin' on comin' back, then?"
"We ain't really talked about it, but I guess they will if I marry her. 'Less she'd rather stay in St Louis."
"You'd give up the Gold Nugget?" asked Horace.
"If I have to."
Horace nodded and took a deep breath. "Fine," he said. "That'll be a nickel for the letter."
"Sure." Hank handed over the coin and left the telegraph office, not quite sure whether Horace had really said all of those things or if he'd imagined it. Then he remembered Myra's wedding, how he'd gone there to support her despite hating every minute of it, just because he had wanted her to be happy. He guessed it wasn't so far-fetched that Horace would do something similar for her. He sure hadn't done it to please Hank.