Chapter 87- A Beacon of Hope

*If you have read my story this long (all 86, now 87 chapters)… you know I love creating some big symbolism and full circle moments in this writing. Usually, I plan them out chapters in advance.

That was not the case here.

When I sat down last night to write this chapter, I had a rough outline of where I was and where I wanted to go with the storyline. While the "bones" of what I wanted to accomplish are still in this chapter… an unexpected aspect and backstory just came to life for me one sentence and then one paragraph at a time as I continued typing along.

When I started this "Christmas Special" I had plans that it would be all happy, feel good and playful, with a dabble of suspense and Mountie action for good measure.

But there was something about this story arc of Potter's Creek, that my soul last night said nope… GO DEEPER.

While "deeper" may not be everyone's favorite (I've heard from a few of you… my story is too upsetting or tragic and all we want to see is happy Nathan after everything he's been through (PSA- Nathan is happy in this chapter so don't let that deter you from reading)).

I get it. In times like what we are living in, we all want to think that happy all-the-time exists (that's why we chose to watch Hallmark Channel in the first place, right?), but I think stories that only show the highlight reel… well they aren't REAL.

And while I know this story is fiction (the name fanfic is literally in the title of the website), you know I have not shied away from telling what I know and what I feel.

If you want all happy… maybe skip this chapter and come back tomorrow when you get another email notification from me. Or read some reviews on this chapter from other readers to get a feel for what transpires before diving in.

Those of you who want to continue… I hope you see and understand exactly what my fingers on the keyboard chose to create last night.

"Bartlett?" Nathan asked, turning slightly to try and see who held him at gunpoint. His action only earned him a hard jab in the back with the barrel.

"What part of don't move a muscle did you not understand?" The man behind him gritted through his teeth.

"I'm Constable Nathan Grant with the North West Mounted Police."

"Then you should know better than to go snooping around someone's property uninvited! I have just cause to shoot you right now," the man again pressed the gun against Nathan's back causing him to grimace.

"I'm unarmed, John," Nathan tried to reason.

"Well than you ain't tellin' the truth. I've never met a lawman who isn't carrying. So, which is the lie, son?"

"I don't have a gun on me, and you can check my horse's saddle too. I'm telling the truth."

"So, what'd you come out here for? Stealin' my cattle and horses? Or you searchin' for somethin' else?"

"I just came to talk."

"Ain't nobody comes all the way out here just to talk. Everyone wants something. Especially you lawmen type."

Nathan's mind sped, how was he going to make Barlett see the light and then it hit him squarely in the chest.

"Did Charlotte Thompson want something when she would come out here? Or did she just come to talk?"

Nathan felt the pressure of the gun against his spine soften slightly for a moment before it again was jammed against his vertebrae. "Did McEntire and his grunts send you out here? Why were you in his office yesterday?"

"Mr. Bartlett, if you would just put the gun down and stop jamming it in my back, I'll explain everything."

Again, Nathan felt the pressure against his spine lessen ever so slightly.

"How do you know about Ms. Thompson? Did McEntire tell you about her?"

"I met Charlotte almost a year and a half ago now, when she ran away from here and took a job teaching in Hope Valley, which is the town I serve in."

Pressure returned to the gun barrel. "So, she traded one crooked lawman for another."

Nathan's blood boiled and he worked to control his temper. He considered Charlotte a good judge of character, other than the conniving Beck. If she believed Bartlett was someone he could trust, he was going to follow her instincts, but as his tailbone kept getting more and more bruised, he was about out of patience.

"I assure you, Mr. Bartlett, I am the opposite of Beck McEntire," Nathan gritted. "I have the bullet hole in my shoulder to prove it."

"He shot you?"

"Yeah. After he found and kidnapped Charlotte."

"Is she okay?" Bartlett's voice softened.

"You know this would be much easier to discuss if you would put that gun down and let me talk to you face to face."

"Fine," Bartlett said, lowering the weapon. "But don't do anything that will earn you a second bullet hole."

Nathan nodded and slowly turned around to face the old cowboy. His salt and pepper hair flowed from underneath his hat; a thick mustache sat across his upper lip. Weathered skin from years spent out in the elements. Sun, rain, snow, and wind had all carved their own features upon Bartlett's face. It was his eyes, Nathan noted, that gave away exactly how hard of a life John Bartlett had lived.

"You never answered me."

"About what?" Nathan asked.

"Is Charlotte alright? Is she safe?"

"She's safe."

Bartlett looked down at his boot and kicked at a pile of straw on the dirt floor of the barn. "Is she happy?"

Nathan's heart clenched and a small smile came across his features. It was at that moment he knew he could trust Bartlett.

"Yeah," He grinned. "She's happy."

Bartlett's soulful brown eyes lifted to Nathan's and became misty. "Good."

"Would you like to see a recent picture of her?"

Bartlett nodded so slightly; Nathan wasn't even sure he saw the movement.

"It's in my coat pocket. Are you okay with me digging it out of there to show you? Like I said. I promise. I'm unarmed. You can check if you want to."

"Show me the picture."

Nathan reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out the small photo he kept there of him and Charlotte. Carson had taken it the night of the Founder's Day play, after Collins had left with Bill to greet the others in the room, and Charlotte had stolen Nathan away to the corner.

The picture itself was slightly crinkled and the corners bent, but Nathan handed it over to Bartlett.

"That was taken of us just a few months ago," he commented as Bartlett took the photo into his hands for closer inspection.

In the picture Charlotte's arms were wrapped tightly around Nathan, her head resting easily against his chest as she snuggled into his side and beamed her million-dollar smile at Carson's camera. Nathan himself, had his left arm wrapped around her back, and his right crossed in front of them, holding her close as he too smiled in Carson's direction.

"She does look happy," Bartlett said, analyzing the photo and then raising his gaze to Nathan's. "You too, for that matter."

"I am," he smirked. "Especially since we are getting married on Christmas Eve."

"Married?" John Bartlett's eyes twinkled. "Son, why don't we go inside the house. I think you better start from the beginning."

And Nathan did start from the beginning. He watched the emotions play out over the ol' cowboys face as he retold what exactly happened the night of Charlotte's disappearance from Potter's Creek. About the wildfire and the baby. And then he told of the healing. Of the spiritual growth Charlotte had experienced and the community of support she had gained. He told of her becoming a mother to Allie and a daughter to his parents. He shared about Gabe and Bill helping him with the investigation into McEntire and how instead of arresting him, Beck had been one step ahead of them the whole time. Kidnapping Charlotte when Nathan had been led away out of town. He told of the search for her and the moment they found one another again. Retelling about the shootings and how Charlotte had ultimately saved his life.

Finally, he told about their love. Of the adventures they had, the places they'd gone, and all the small, special moments in between. The morning coffees, dinners as a family, the laughter and jokes they shared. How it all had a way of healing two broken hearts in a way that hadn't seemed possible. He shared his hopes and dreams for their future. Raising their family and growing old together.

When he came to the end of his retelling of the story of Charlie and Nate, was when Nathan noticed the tears that steadily streamed down John's face.

"John. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the old man shook his head and quickly wiped his face to remove the salty evidence. "It's just your story… It reminds me so much of my own."

Nathan raised his eyebrow, the action prompting Bartlett to continue.

"I had always been friends with a girl named Lyndy growing up back east. When I quit school and told her I was heading west to work on a ranch was when I finally had the courage to tell her I loved her. I proposed and she said yes. When we went and told her family, her father wouldn't have it. According to him, Lyndy had been promised in marriage to an influential business associate's son, whom she barely knew. We tried to run away together, but we were caught. Lyndy's father had me thrown in jail on some trumped up charges his friends in law enforcement were able to put on me. I was in jail for over six months. When I was released, I saw her walking across the street in the fancy part of town, on the arm of the business associate's son. The bump on her stomach protruding ever so slightly beneath her new wardrobe of the finest silk dresses and animal furs money could buy."

John paused and looked out the window beside him at the kitchen table. Nathan watched as the memories played across the man's face. "I sent her a secret letter. Explaining what had happened. I had no intention of breaking up her marriage, but she deserved to know I would always love her. No matter what. Then I boarded a train and came west. I landed out here, working for an old rancher named Sullivan. One day about two months after I had left, I'm stackin' hay in that barn over there and I looked up. It was like a mirage on a hot summer day. I swore it had to be. Because there was no other way to explain Lyndy waddling down that dusty path towards me. When I finally realized it wasn't a dream, I ran to her. There was no way to stop it. We just held each other and cried. She practically fainted in my arms from exhaustion caused by walking all the way out here from town in the afternoon sun. Sullivan's wife put Lyndy in one of the bedrooms upstairs and nursed her back to health. That night when Lyndy woke up was when she told me… When the man she was betrothed to found out we had tried to run away together, he..."

John's voice broke causing Nathan to reach out and touch John's hands that were wringing together atop the table.

"They had never married. The monster wanted to, in his words, 'make an example' of Lyndy for her conduct 'not befittin' of a wife'. When I heard that, it took everything in my power to not jump on my horse and ride all the way back to the city and…"

"But Lyndy stopped me. My girl… she was strong enough and smart enough to get away on her own. Just like Charlotte was. Lyndy pointed out that we were together now and nothing else mattered. Her family had turned their back on her. I was her family now. That was… if I still loved her after everything she'd just told me."

"And you still loved her, didn't you?" Nathan asked even though he already knew the answer.

"I had never stopped," John smiled sweetly at the memory. "We were married the next day at that little church in town. It had just been built back then. When the townsfolk heard what was happening, they came all up in arms. Saying it wasn't proper that the first marriage in that church be between two people so unchristian like, as Lyndy and myself. Ol' Mr. Sullivan, my boss, was a hot-headed Irishman and he would have none of that talk. He went to puttin' a preachin' like I'd never seen before and never seen since over those judgmental people. It was him and his money that built that church in the first place and he said it was him and his hammer that could take it down again if this was the type of Christian folk who expected to worship there on Sundays."

Nathan smirked slightly at the scene John painted with his words.

"Our daughter, Mary, arrived only a few weeks later. And boy was she a spitfire. Her momma and I's pride and joy. She was runnin' this ranch by the time she was four, I swear it. I guess that's why I found myself so drawn to Ms. Thompson. Her grit reminded me a lot of my little girl."

Nathan caught the change in Bartlett's voice and squeezed John's hand, urging him to continue his story. "Mary was eighteen when influenza broke out in these parts. She was so strong and healthy. The doctor swore she'd pull through…"

Nathan worked to swallow the lump in his throat. He had known earlier, looking into Barlett's eyes, the older man had not had a simple life, but hearing it be true didn't make it any easier.

"Lyndy and I were never blessed with more children. And when Mary…" John let out a shaky breath. "I thought it would break us. I really did. I felt like I was being torn apart."

Nathan was flooded with memories of Charlotte's miscarriage last fall and how wrecked with grief they had been over the loss. He couldn't even imagine the pain that John had to feel. Or the pain Nathan would feel if the same thing happened to Allie.

"But you know what? My wife told me something that made a lot of sense. The intense pain we felt was because we had loved someone so fiercely and so fully. Our biggest blessing in this life was being able to love Mary for over eighteen years. Some people never get to experience that sort of love. And I got to experience it not only once, but twice."

"Your wife sounds like a very wise woman," Nathan commented.

"She was. We were married over fifty-two years. Some happy. Some sad. But always together. That's what mattered."

"Thank you for trusting me with your story," Nathan said softly.

"Thank you for trusting me with yours," Bartlett replied. "Speakin' of trust…"

Bartlett stood up abruptly and disappeared out the door of the kitchen into a back hallway. When he returned, he was carrying a large wooden box that he placed on the table in front of Nathan with an audible thud.

"You may be looking for these, constable."

Nathan had barely made it back to the boarding house ahead of the rest of the group returning from Beck's house for lunch. Gabe and Bill, both gave him a sideways glance as he came into the dining room to join them, Nathan responded with the smallest of nods, indicating he at least had some success with Bartlett.

He hadn't been shot.

The men had not found any evidence of McEntire's connection to the Schneider gang at Beck's house. Nathan already knew they wouldn't. And because of that, Martin was calling an end to the investigation. They would spend the afternoon filling out the necessary reports to close the inquiry and then in the morning Nathan, Gabe, Bill, and Inspector Martin were to leave town. Landry and Tremblay had orders to stay in Potter's Creek until permanent arrangements could be made for the territory.

On the way to the Mountie's office, Nathan peeled off from the rest of the group. Instead, making his way to the telegraph office with a couple dollars in his hand. He made small talk with Mr. Hunter, as much as possible, and sent off two telegrams to Hope Valley.

Ms. Charlotte Thompson- Finished investigation early- Will be home Friday- Stopping in Union City for Allie's present- Love- N.

Mr. Archie Grant- Bring crew and wagon to depot for Friday 3 o'clock train- Charlotte Secret- Will call from UC to explain- Love- N.

That evening while Martin retired to his room. Gabe, Bill, Landry, and Tremblay sat around the dining table of the boarding house telling stories of their own Mountie adventures, as Nathan secretively slipped off to the livery.

When he returned from the ranch just before noon, he had exchanged pleasantries with the town blacksmith who agreed to let Nathan use some of his tools and scraps that were around the stable. Nathan worked late into the night until his special project was completed and hung in its rightful place.

"Well gentlemen, I can't say it's been the most pleasurable experience of my illustrious career, but these mundane assignments are also necessary, I suppose," Inspector Martin stated from atop his horse as he pulled on his leather gloves. "Landry. Tremblay. I expect those finished reports, just as I outlined yesterday, on my desk in Cape Fullerton before Christmas."

"Yes, sir," Caleb and Warren replied with limited enthusiasm.

"Avery. Kinslow. Grant." Martin nodded at each man standing in front of him before turning his horse abruptly, digging in his heels, and taking off down the street in the direction of Fort Macleod. Teetering and tottering in his saddle as he bounced along at an unsteady gait.

"Doesn't look like he gets out of the office much does it?" Tremblay commented on Martin's less than "illustrious" riding skills.

Tremblay's dry sense of humor caused the rest of the men to laugh heartily.

"Gentlemen," Gabe extended his hand to shake Caleb and Warren's. "Martin may not have had a pleasurable time, but I did enjoy your company. Thank you for your help this week."

"If you boys are ever in Hope Valley, be sure to stop by. I'll treat you to lunch at the café," Bill said as he too shook the men's hands goodbye.

"Didn't you say you owned the café?" Landry asked.

"You'll still be eating the food I paid for," Bill gruffed. "One way or another."

"Caleb," Nathan reached over and shook Landry's hand.

"Take care of yourself, Nathan," the other Mountie replied. "And tell Miss Allie, 'Hi' for me."

"I will," Nathan smiled, before turning to Tremblay. "Warren. It was good to see you again."

"I appreciated our talk the other night, sir," Constable Tremblay said as he shook Nathan's outstretched hand. "I look forward to seeing you again in the future and meeting the soon to be Mrs. Grant. I need to see for myself if she's everything you've talked her up to be."

Nathan chuckled. "Merry Christmas you two. If you need anything in the future. You know where to find us."

"Merry Christmas," Caleb and Warren called out as Gabe, Bill, and Nathan mounted their horses and turned to head out of town.

"What's that up ahead?" Bill asked as they had just passed the town of Cowley and were still about four miles from Lundbreck.

"That's something I've been meaning to tell you both about," Nathan said, as he urged his horse into a faster pace.

Gabe and Bill exchanged glances, shrugged their shoulders, and then also kicked their horses to catch up with Nathan.

"John," Nathan extended his hand in greeting. "Did you have any trouble getting here?"

"Son, I've driven these roads longer than you've been alive. It was no trouble."

Nathan turned to his traveling partners who had finally caught up to him. "Bill. Gabe. I want you to meet Mr. John Bartlett. He's a friend of Charlotte's and now a friend of ours."

"Nice to meet you again, Mr. Bartlett," Gabe extended his hand towards John. "If you're a friend, you deserve to know my real name is Gabriel Kinslow. Sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you that when I was in town the last time."

"Bartlett," Bill nodded his head in the direction of the old cowboy. Still somewhat uncertain of trusting a resident of Potter's Creek. "Nathan, are you going to tell us what's going on? What is with this wagon full of… stuff."

"It's coming with us to Hope Valley. John was gracious enough to drive it to the train station in Lundbreck and then my dad and others are going to meet us at the depot on Friday to unload."

"Well, we got a little over an hour until we get to Lundbreck," Bill responded, moving his horse down the path in the direction of town. "Better get to explaining."

The wagon had been unloaded into one of the boxcars on the train in Lundbreck. Gabe volunteered to travel with the freight on the ride back to make sure it was safely handled in the journey. Bill wasn't going to object to Gabe's offer. There was no way he was going to ride in a bumpy storage cart all the way back to Hope Valley. Nathan felt obligated to go in Gabe's place, this was his idea after all, but ultimately, he agreed. The past few days of travel, working, and riding had pushed his shoulder a little further than he knew he should have. It was sore. What he wouldn't do for a warm bath, hot meal, and a comfortable bed. By tomorrow night he hoped to have all three.

As the train prepared for departure, Nathan returned to Bartlett at the wagon.

"Thank you, John. For everything."

"It's the least I could do. I've felt guilty for so long over not stepping in and helping Charlotte when I could have saved her from so much pain and hurt."

"She doesn't hold that against you John. Please know that."

Bartlett nodded his head. "Thank you, Nathan."

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Nathan looked over his shoulder at the train behind him. "I'm sure Charlotte would love for you to be at the wedding next week."

John kindly smiled. "I'm sure she will look beautiful, but Charlotte knows as well as anyone. Ranch work doesn't take off time for holidays and special occasions. One day. We'll meet again, I hope."

"John, I left something for you back in Potter's Creek. Promise me, you'll ride through town on your way back home tonight."

The old cowboy raised a quizzical brow at Nathan but nodded his head in agreement.

"Merry Christmas, John," Nathan leaned in and hugged the old cowboy.

"Merry Christmas, Nathan."

When Nathan pulled out of the embrace, he saw the tears threatening to spill from John's eyes. He gave a sympathetic smile and then turned to board the train as the conductor was calling for the final passengers.

"Nathan!"

Nathan stopped at the sound of Bartlett calling out from behind him. He pivoted on his heel to face the old cowboy standing by his wagon.

"Always love her!" John called out over the hiss of the steam engine roaring to life.

"I'll never stop!" Nathan shouted back.

Bartlett smiled and the two men waved one last time at each other before parting ways.

It was nearly dark, as John Bartlett pulled into Potter's Creek. He wasn't sure why he had agreed to come slightly out of his way on the drive home.

Maybe it was the kindness in the young man's eyes. Or the way he gave that warm lopsided smile of his.

Nonetheless, John had agreed, and he had always been a man of his word.

As he turned his team down the main street, the realization hit John that he had no idea what he was even supposed to be looking for.

"John, I left something for you back in Potter's Creek. Promise me, you'll ride through town on your way back home tonight."

John scanned his surroundings. It was a cold night. No townsfolk were out for an evening stroll. All the business seemed to be closed until the morning. Even the saloon seemed exceptionally quiet as he guided the team down the street. The only sound in the air was the jingle of the harnesses with each step forward from the horses and the gentle rattle of the empty wagon under him as it bumped along the road.

About the moment John was going to give up and turn the horses back towards the ranch, the clouds above parted ever so slightly, and a moonbeam shown down on the path in front of him. Illuminating and drawing John's attention to Nathan's gift in the distance.

John pulled his horses to a stop in front of the little church that so many of his life events had happened at. It was where he married the love of his life. Where they christened their daughter. Where they spent every Sunday morning, Christmas concert, and school play. It was also where he sat in the front row, dressed in black, as the preacher said the final blessings over first his daughter and then years later, his wife. Where he had worshiped and sang praises. Where he had also faltered and asked God why?

When Charlotte left Potter's Creek. That last glimmer of redemptive hope in this town seemed to vanish with her. With no church services, after Pastor Richards moved on, the little white building had fallen into disrepair, causing John to feel guilty each time he rode by. Especially knowing how much that little church had meant to Mr. Sullivan, who was more like a father figure to John than anyone else had ever been.

But now a beacon of hope shown around him.

There. Up above the entry doors. Hung a new plaque.

Gone was the battered and broken sign of old.

The new; carved and hewn with the care and skill of a master craftsman was a sign that brought a vibrant light back to the town. Once and for all, expelling any remnants of darkness and corruption.

The tears in John's eyes made it difficult to see clearly, but the sight of those simple block letters would forever be ingrained in his heart.

The Lyndy and Mary Bartlett

Memorial Church

Potter's Creek, AB

1920

*Much love to all of you who didn't get scared away from my introduction and read through this chapter all the way here to the end. First off, THANK YOU for trusting me with this story.

Chapter 43- "A Break In The Case" was the first time we were introduced to the town of Potter's Creek. In SaSeLi777 review of that chapter she said this beautiful line. "All it takes is one strong, hopeful person to spread the circle of love and life!"

I think that's the perfect sentiment to wrap up this story of Potter's Creek with a nice little Christmas bow.