Allie peered out of the window of the stagecoach from the safety of Nathan's arms held tightly around her. He watched her face, as always loving her curiosity. Nathan had recently found himself easily susceptible to a mild darkness since Colleen died, and Allie's unbridled enthusiasm for life was a wonderful antidote to that.
Nathan knew that being forced to care for Allie every day was having a good effect on him. Nathan's mother, Rebecca, had tried to care for her, but after three months, Rebecca owned up to the fact that she couldn't chase an active four-year-old the way she needed to on a big ranch. When she said she was thinking of hiring help to watch her, Nathan stepped in. He felt strongly that Colleen would have wanted Allie to spend time in the world, and the Grant Ranch in Airdrie was about as far from the world as you could get. It was stunningly beautiful, with sprawling green meadows and even a small river, but it was also isolated and far from schools and other children.
Now that he was with her full-time, Nathan was beginning to see just how social his niece was. Allie had no trouble going up to strangers and showing them her latest toy, or moving into a group of children and beginning to play as if she'd known them all her life. She was like Colleen in that way, with an adventurous spirit and a vivid imagination. Nathan just couldn't leave her on the ranch to live only in her own head.
"Cows!" Allie yelled at the top of her lungs, waking the elderly man who sat across from them in the stagecoach and eliciting a deeply irritated frown.
Nathan smiled apologetically at the gentleman as he pulled Allie in and sat her on the bench next to him. "Yes, cows, Allie. Lots of them," he said, stifling a laugh.
And of course, Allie had to look up at him and do what she always did, "Cows say?" He cringed, knowing that he'd created this monster himself with the animal noises he loved to do with Allie. Dogs say? Woof! Cats say? Meow! Allie could never get enough, and the real problem was that Nathan did really good animal noises.
Nathan looked across at the man who was right now narrowing his eyes and tilting his head dangerously; almost daring Nathan to do as Allie was asking. He looked back down at Allie, whose eyes were dancing in anticipation. It only took him a moment to decide.
"Moooooooooo!" Nathan said, sending Allie into gales of laughter. He stole a look across the coach and actually saw the glimmer of a smile from the man.
Nathan had opted to wear his civilian clothes for the trip, though he probably should be wearing the red serge, as he was traveling toward a new posting. He'd escorted the wagon with their things on horseback, and had left Newton at the Coal Valley livery while he took the stage back to Benson Hills to get Allie. By the time they got to their new home this afternoon, the two men he'd hired to unload the wagon would have completed the process of moving their furniture and belongings into their row house.
The first accommodation he'd been offered was a room above the saloon, but it didn't take him more than a minute to refuse that. Running a four-year-old through a saloon multiple times a day didn't feel right, so he'd asked around and found out one of the row houses was available. He'd also learned that it was vacant due to the death of an unmarried man who'd been lost in the Pacific Northwest Mining Company explosion just three months ago.
In fact, during the two times he'd been there, the accident was all anyone was talking about in Coal Valley. Forty-seven men lost their lives, which made widows of more than half the women in town. It was a tragedy that had ripped the fabric of Coal Valley, and it was also something that Superintendent Martin had neglected to share.
Now Nathan was charged with keeping the peace, though emotions were clearly running very high in what Nathan had at first imagined as a sleepy little town.
Then, there was also the matter of the "benefactor" that Superintendent Martin had quickly glossed over.
For the first day after receiving his posting, Nathan had used the Benson Hills Mountie Office and his considerable contacts there to find out the identity of the person who had requested a Constable for Coal Valley. His first guess had been a man named Henry Gowen, who seemed to run the town as the owner of the mining company and the town's primary employer.
But it turned out the benefactor wasn't Gowen. Just before the stagecoach left, Nathan had finally received a message from a clerk in the Mountie Office he'd helped out on occasion. He now had a name to go with the description of benefactor; William Thatcher, a shipping tycoon who lived in, of all places, Hamilton.
Nathan hadn't had the time to do any research into Thatcher to find out why he might have an interest in a town like Coal Valley, but he intended to as soon as he got settled. It had to have some connection to Gowen, Nathan thought. There really didn't seem any other logical explanation.
Elizabeth Marie Thatcher felt like she'd spent her entire life bumping along in the stagecoach, though it had only been a week. She knew herself to be stubborn, and once she had an idea in her head it was hard to shake it, but this idea was her most radical yet.
After a life of privilege, the middle daughter of William Thatcher had decided to forgo the easy life she was promised by her upbringing, and come west. She was a teacher, and teachers were needed in small towns like Coal Valley.
Julie, her younger sister, had warned her of the dangers of the wild west, but she'd done it with a sparkle in her eyes. She was clearly envious of Elizabeth's determination to live rough among the cowboys and outlaws, even as Elizabeth laughed at her exaggerations.
Looking out the window, Elizabeth sighed and adjusted herself on the hard coach seat. After having company much of the way, she was now the only one who was braving the journey this far west. And being alone, Elizabeth did something that would have scandalized anyone connected with Hamilton society. She reached back and loosened the ties on her corset.
Leaning back, Elizabeth allowed herself a much-needed deep breath.
Three more days and she would be in her classroom in Coal Valley. She would be the molder of young minds, and the rosy-faced and eager children she imagined would open themselves up to great literature and art and the skills they needed to have successful lives.
Since she was alone, Elizabeth spoke out loud as she watched the newly-minted Saskatchewan Province fly by. "I am Elizabeth Thatcher," she said, drawing strength from hearing the steadiness of her own voice. "I am a strong, independent, capable woman. I can face any obstacle with courage, grace and dignity." It had been her mantra for months, and now, seeing the raw country outside the stagecoach window, Elizabeth could feel it taking on a life of its own.
"Stand still, please," Nathan said to Allie as she fidgeted. "You'll thank me later."
Allie looked up at her Uncle Nathan and pressed her back against the door frame as he made the pencil mark just at the top of her head. She had no idea why she was doing it, but she did a lot of things she didn't fully understand. What she knew is that she loved her uncle and that his voice and his smile and his long arms made her feel safe.
"Okay, you can move now," Nathan said, and Allie ran back to the box of toys they had just opened on the hardwood floor. She'd been worried about her dolls, and she pulled each one out in turn, setting them up with their backs against the wall so she could count them.
Nathan talked to her as he continued emptying the kitchen boxes. "We'll do that every year and we can watch you grow." He looked over at Allie and stopped what he was doing for a moment, just gazing at her. His heart clenched as he thought of Colleen and how his sister wouldn't see Allie grow up. Nathan never wanted to take for granted that he would have that privilege.
"Allie?" he said, and she looked up at him, her eyes bright. "Do you like it here?"
At four, she didn't understand all the colors of that question, but she could hear the tone of her uncle's voice and she knew he was being serious. Her dolls made her happy, so she thought they might make her Uncle Nathan happy, too. She picked up her favorite and ran over to him and held it up for him to see. "This is Mary," she said, grinning.
Nathan bent down and then just sat on the floor of the kitchen. Allie made him feel so tall sometimes, and he always wanted to get on her level so he could see her eyes. "Hello, Mary," he said, taking the doll's hand and shaking it. Nathan's long legs were stretched out in front of him, and Allie simply sat down on one of them and leaned against his chest, talking softly to Mary about her dress.
Nathan felt the familiar emotion welling up. Sometimes it was too much to think about, all the years ahead. He'd had a plan for his life; first of all to be the best Mountie he could be, and everything had hinged on that. Now everything seemed to be dangling on two hinges, and his decisions were based not only on his life as a Mountie, but on whether it would be good for Allie.
He looked around at the little row house that was now their home. It was larger than he would have chosen alone, certainly, and it had a homey atmosphere to it already. His mother had packed some things for him that he wouldn't usually think of - pictures in frames, vases, decorative bowls and pitchers – and she had encouraged him to put them out first. "That way you'll be unpacking into a home, not just a house," Rebecca had said. As he looked around now, he knew that his mother had again given him good advice.
Nathan and Allie had been in Coal Valley for two days now. They'd explored the town, met Ned Yost at the Mercantile and Tom Trevoy at the saloon. Nathan had tipped his hat to more widows with children than he wanted to think about, and he felt the deep sadness about the town. It felt like a place that was struggling just to get through each day, but already Nathan was impressed with the people in it. They didn't have any "give up" in them, as Colleen used to say.
One of the first widows he'd met, Catherine Montgomery, had told him that they had a teacher coming on the stage tomorrow from the east, and that the mothers were all very hopeful about how she would impact the town. He'd seen tears come to her eyes as she described the burdens the children were bearing in dealing not only with their own grief but also the pain of their mothers. Cat hoped that being in school would lighten that load for the children and give them other things to think about.
What Nathan also realized as he'd walked the town wearing his red serge, introducing himself and Allie to everyone they met, was that he, himself, was giving the town a measure of hope. If they warranted the posting of a Mountie, as Florence Blakeley had said, perhaps they had a future after all.
A town that was grieving being served by a man who was grieving. There was a symmetry to it, but Nathan also had the vague feeling it was a case of the blind leading the blind. He supposed they would all find their way together.