26 November

As the city rolled slowly into view, Eloise craned her neck to look out of the window, a small smile spreading across her face as she took in, what he could only assume, were familiar sights of home.

The journey from Colorado Springs had been relatively uneventful and though he couldn't deny there was a slight awkwardness between them, and had been since that night, she had been a perfectly amiable travelling companion, quick witted and happy to converse with him and their fellow passengers on a range of subjects. There had been some others on the train, other men, that he had seen look at her with interest, admiration almost, and he had found himself poised, on more than one occasion, to assert his relationship with her to them.

But something had stopped him, and he could only wager that it was the temporary nature of their situation. Who was he to potentially dissuade another man who may, someday, be her legitimate husband? So, he had said nothing.

"I can't believe we're finally here," she said, turning back to look at him, a shine in her eyes. "It feels like we've been travelling forever."

"Sure does," he replied as the train slowly pulled to a stop and they gathered their belongings to prepare for disembarkation.

It had been a source of some amusement in the run up to their leaving as Eloise had procrastinated over what to take with her. Having arrived in town with fairly little to her name, she had amassed possessions over the course of the last few months, and it was only when he had reminded her that the plan was, in fact, to return to the saloon, that she had eventually decided what could be left behind.

"Her door's locked," he had told Olivia solemnly before they had left. "If I come back and find that ya've taken anythin' that don't belong to ya, there'll be hell to pay, understand?" The other woman had nodded, silent resentment coming off her in waves, and he had departed with serious consideration in his mind as to whether or not she could be trusted to remain in his employ.

The station was busy, and they had to fight their way through the crowds towards the main entrance. "Mother!" Eloise exclaimed suddenly, waving at a figure in the distance. Following her gaze, he caught sight of Flora, returning the gesture enthusiastically before hurrying towards them.

"Oh Lou, it's so good to see you!" she said, sweeping her daughter into a tight embrace before turning to him. "And Hank, you're looking well." Stepping closer, she kissed him on the cheek, leaving him somewhat surprised. "I'm so glad you're both here safely. You've had such a long journey, and you must be exhausted. I have a surrey waiting just outside to take us home."

"Is Father at the store?"

"Oh…no, he's waiting for us at home."

"At home?" Eloise paused. "Why isn't he at work?"

"Well, he wasn't feeling too well this morning, so he decided to stay at home today," Flora replied, glancing quickly at him. "But he and the boys are beyond excited to see you both, so I did promise to ensure that I brought you home swiftly. Are these all your bags?"

"Hank travels light, so most of them are mine," Eloise admitted.

"Not to worry," Flora gestured to a nearby porter. "Let's get on our way. I want to hear all your news from Colorado Springs." Linking her arm with her daughter, they walked ahead, chatting between them, Hank following behind, through the station before emerging out into the late afternoon sunshine.

"I forgot how warm it is at this time of year," Eloise said, looking over her shoulder at him. "It's a bit different from the cold we left behind."

"Kinda like it," he commented, squinting in the light at the buildings around him as Flora bustled them over to a waiting surrey, one of many surrounding the entrance to the station. "Big place."

"Have you ever been here before?" she asked, as they climbed inside and settled themselves for the journey.

"No, biggest city I ever bin to is Boston," he replied.

"Well, that is a big place too. Rather different from San Francisco though in ways that I would probably find hard to put into words." She smiled and patted Eloise's hand. "It really is so good to see you both."

As the surrey made its way through the streets, Hank tuned out of the conversation between mother and daughter and took in the sights as they passed. The city had similarities with Boston, as far as he could recall, but there was something different about it, as Flora had said, not that he would have been able to articulate what that was if asked.

"Can ya see the sea from here?" he asked suddenly.

"No, not from here," Eloise replied, "but we can take a trip down to the bay before we leave if you'd like to see it."

"Figured I seen it on one side of the country so oughta see it on the other."

"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Flora said, "though it can be cold down at the bay."

"Used to that," he replied as the surrey pulled to a halt and he got his first look at his wife's childhood home. It was certainly a far cry from the saloon, being a large double fronted townhouse with three storeys. It looked clean and well cared for and, for the briefest of moments, he wondered what he was doing there at all.

As they stepped inside the front door, a cacophony of sounds came down the hallway, followed swiftly by four boys who threw themselves in turn at Eloise, hugging her tightly.

Extracting herself, she turned to him, laughing. "Hank, these are my brothers. This is Adam, the eldest, then Philip, Peter and Henry. Boys, this is my husband, Hank."

They all looked at him somewhat curiously and he knew that, despite having worn what he considered to be one of his better outfits, it was likely they had never seen anyone resembling him before, much the same way their sister hadn't all those months earlier.

"Do you have a gun?" Peter asked.

"Uh…yeah, sure."

"Can I see it?"

"Maybe not right now," Flora interjected hurriedly. "Guns are very dangerous, Peter, you know we've always told you that. I'd be grateful, Hank, if you could keep it safe whilst you're here. Boys will be boys after all and I'd hate for any accidents to happen."

"Sure," he replied, "no problem."

"Adam, obviously, commandeered your room after you left, Lou, but I'm sure the spare room will be adequate if that's alright with you both? I had Mrs Gordon make it up for you earlier."

"Of course, Mother, that's fine. But where is Father? I'd like to see him."

Flora paused, "He's in the drawing room. Lou…"

Before she could say anything more, Eloise rushed forwards through another door, and he found himself almost duty bound to follow her. To his surprise, Alexander was sat in a large armchair by the fire, a blanket around his shoulders, despite the heat of the day. He looked pale and markedly different from the man he had encountered some months earlier.

"Father!" Eloise exclaimed, hurrying forwards, pausing as he rose slowly from the chair. "Are you alright? You look…"

"I'm fine, Lou," he interrupted. "All the better for seeing you." Pulling his daughter into an embrace, his gaze met Hank's over her shoulder and a cold sensation swirled around in his belly at the look in the other man's eyes. "You look well, my dear," Alexander continued, pulling back. "Even despite your long journey. And Hank…" he held out his hand. "It's good to see you again. I hope you've been looking after my daughter."

"Course," he replied automatically, shaking the other man's hand, surprised once more at how feeble his grip was. "She's bin lookin' after me too."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." Alexander beamed at them both. "It is so nice that you were able to come for Thanksgiving. It just wouldn't have been the same without you."

"But what's wrong with you?" Eloise asked, her brow furrowed. "I've never known you to be ill a day in your life."

"Unfortunately, these things come to all of us from time to time," Alexander replied. "I'm fine, darling, I promise. A few days and I shall be back to normal, of that I have no doubt."

Eloise paused and, for a moment, Hank thought she was going to continue arguing with her father. But, as if accepting it was futile at that point, her expression cleared. "I was hoping to show Hank the store whilst we're here. Of course, if you're not feeling up to it…"

"Nonsense, I will be more than capable of accompanying you," Alexander said. "Tomorrow, perhaps, or the day after Thanksgiving if I'm not quite improved enough."

"You must rest, dear," Flora said, coming in behind them. "There will be plenty time for you to visit the store, Lou. After all, you're staying for almost two weeks. Now," she clapped her hands, "why don't you go upstairs and freshen up? Cook is planning on having dinner ready at six and you know how she hates unpunctuality."

"Yes, I remember," Eloise smiled, turning back to face him. "I can give you the tour as we go."

Dutifully, he followed her around the house as she pointed out the different rooms and their uses and found himself marvelling at the size and space. To have the wherewithal to live in such a place was beyond what he had ever considered to be achievable and, not for the first time, found himself questioning why she would have wanted to leave it all behind for a dusty mid-western town.

"And this is the guest room," she said, opening a door at the top of the house to reveal a well-apportioned, bright room with a large double bed, wardrobes and washbasin.

"Guess I'm on the floor again," he commented wryly.

"No," she said hurriedly. "Not at all. We can share."

"Share?"

"Absolutely. The bed is a good size and if we place a line of pillows between us then there won't be any…misunderstandings." She met his gaze. "Please, I don't want you to sleep on the floor. It's not fair given you're a guest here. Besides, what if someone were to come in and see us like that?"

"Who's gonna be comin' in? Yer folks?"

"No, not unannounced, but my brothers might, and they do so love to tell tales. I don't relish the conversation being raised around the dinner table. Please?"

It was hardly a contest, a hard floor versus a warm, soft bed, and he was a man with some scruples after all. "Sure we'll manage, somehow," he nodded.

"Good," her expression cleared into one of relief and she moved over to the window. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the Derringer and turned it over in her hand. "I suppose I should also heed Mother's warning and put this somewhere safe. I can only imagine her face if she knew I had it." Pulling open the top drawer of the dresser, she placed it carefully inside and then held out her hand to him. "Give me the Colt."

"Ain't used to bein' told to hand over my gun," he replied, unbuckling his gun belt and passing to it her. "Seein' as it's ya…"

"Thank you." She placed it inside the drawer and closed it firmly before turning back to look at him, a frown marring her features again. "How did you think my father looked?"

He paused, "Well, said he weren't feelin' well, so I guess it's only natural he looked a bit…under the weather."

"It ain't like him…it isn't like him," she corrected herself. "As I said, I've never known him to be ill a day in his life. I wonder…I wonder if that's what Mother wasn't telling me in her letter. Remember I said I thought there was something amiss? Perhaps this was it. Perhaps this has been going on for some time."

"Perhaps ya ought not to jump to conclusions," he said. "Yer Pa's allowed to be ill once in a while and yer Ma ain't gotta jump to tell ya if he is."

"I know," she sighed, "I know you're right, but I just…I just can't help but wonder if there are other things they're not telling me."

XXXX

It had been so long since she had had a meal at home, and yet the warm familiarity of the place settings, the cutlery, the flowers in the centre…it brought it all back to her so quickly, as though she had never been away. Her brothers chattered incessantly around the table, her parents occasionally teasing one another, and the food was as good as she remembered. Almost, but not quite, as good as Grace's.

The difference, of course, was Hank's presence and as she watched him navigate his way through the cutlery options, not to mention the different courses, she couldn't help but feel eternally grateful for how hard she knew he was trying to fit in. She was also grateful for how her parents included him in the conversation and it also pleased her that her brothers also found him so appealing. Their initial reticence had worn off and they had bombarded both of them with questions about Colorado Springs until, having declared they were full, they were banished from the table, Adam the only reluctant one to leave.

"Got a lovely family," Hank said, as the door closed behind them.

"They can certainly be a handful," Flora admitted. "I'm not sure what possessed us to have four boys…"

"As I recall, there wasn't much we could do about it," Alexander said, before turning back to the visitor. "What about you, Hank. I'm conscious we didn't speak much about family when we visited you in the summer.

"Oh…uh…" he looked momentarily panicked, as though unsure what to say. "My…uh…my folks bin dead a long time, since I was little. I got a grandmother who lives on the East Coast, but I ain't seen her in years and…a brother, somewhere."

His last words brought her up sharp and she swallowed her food down quickly. "You have a brother?"

He looked up and met her gaze. "Yeah."

"You've never…I mean…" she glanced at her parents, well aware that they would find it strange that a wife didn't know about her husband's siblings. "You've never talked about him."

"Ain't got no clue where he is," he shrugged. "Ain't seen him since I was 'bout sixteen. Guess I don't really consider him family, in the sense that ya would."

"Is he older or younger than yourself?" Flora asked.

"Two years older." He looked back down at his plate, almost as though he was expecting some kind of rebuke for having spoken the truth. "So, I don't really got any family."

"You have Zack," she said, before she could consider the wisdom of her words. His gaze shot up to meet hers and she nodded encouragingly. "He's part of your family."

"Zack?" Alexander asked.

"Yeah…" Hank replied, his gaze still locked on hers. "He's my son."

"You…have a son?" Flora's tone was incredulous.

"He's almost thirteen," Eloise said. "He lives in Denver at a special art school. He's extremely talented, Mother, you would be very impressed if you saw some of his drawings. And he's so polite and…"

"You've met him?" Flora asked.

"Yes, we went to visit him a few months ago. The school he attends is wonderful, with so many opportunities for him, and he'll hopefully be able to come and visit us for Christmas." She reached across and squeezed Hank's hand. "So, you see, you do have family."

"And of course Hank, you have Eloise," Alexander said.

His eyes flitted across her face, and she couldn't help but fancy that she saw something of a sadness there, an awareness of the truth, of the reality of the situation, a knowledge that only they shared. She may be his family now, but in a few short weeks…

"Yeah," he said, squeezing her hand in return. "I got Ellie."

They were swiftly interrupted by Adam returning, demanding that they all become involved in a number of parlour games that the boys had decided must be played before everyone could retire to bed. The next few hours were spent on charades, blindman's buff and pass the slipper, until Eloise could barely keep her eyes open any longer and was grateful when her parents insisted that the night should draw to a close.

Once upstairs in their room, she slipped behind the modesty screen to change into her nightclothes, before attempting to rearrange the bed into something that could properly accommodate both of them. Thankfully, there appeared to be enough pillows to craft a barrier between them, though she certainly wasn't naïve enough to think it capable of stopping anyone given the opportunity.

As fatigued as she was, sleep didn't come calling quickly and she found herself lying in the gathering darkness, looking up at the ceiling, and thinking back on the dinner table conversation. "Why didn't you tell me you had a brother?" She asked finally, the tempo of his breathing indicating that he too was also awake.

"Guess it just never really came up."

"In all the time we've been together, you don't think there was a time you could have mentioned it?"

"What woulda bin the point? Told ya I ain't seen him in years. Got no inclination to see him neither."

"I know, but…" she paused. "You know everything about me, and I suppose I assumed that you would have told me something like that."

"Tellin' ya now, ain't I?" He let out a breath. "His name's Fredrik. Last time I saw him he was runnin' away from the law, which wasn't unusual fer him back then. Took after my Pa that way."

"What about your grandmother? Does she know where he is?"

"No idea. We've never talked about him, not fer years. She knew what he was like back them, same as everybody did. Only a matter of time 'fore he got into some real trouble. Fer all I know, he could be in jail or dead."

"That's terrible…to not know, I mean."

"Maybe it's better not to know…better not to care."

"So, I married the good Lawsenstrom brother then," she said, jokingly.

He said nothing for a long moment, leading her almost to believe that he had fallen asleep. When he spoke again, his voice was thick, as though on the verge of an emotion she hadn't seen him display before.

"I ain't a good man, Ellie. Just gotta ask anyone in town and they'll tell ya. Grace, Robert E, Michaela, Horace, Myra…hell even Jake and Loren probably have a few things to say about me if ya asked them. Done a lotta things over the years that I ain't proud of. Hurt folks that didn't deserve it. Hell, when this is all over and done with between us, ya might find ya got a few things to say about me yerself."

Rolling over onto her side, she pushed herself up into a seated position. "I could never say anything bad about you, Hank, you should know that." Reaching out, she placed her hand gently on his bare shoulder, feeling him start under her touch, his heat flooding her hand. "As far as I'm concerned, you are a good man, regardless of what anyone else might say. I've always thought that, right from the moment we met."

He turned over to look at her, his face barely identifiable in the dim light, but the shine of tears visible in his eyes. "I threw all of Myra's possessions out into the street when she left me to marry Horace. Got drunk and put a gun to her head and threatened to shoot her in front of everybody at the café. Would've done it too if Sully hadn't knocked me out. Figured we were both better off dead. Ain't sure anybody, even ya, could say those are the actions of a good man."

Before she could even think of articulating a response, he rolled away from her, her hand resting only in thin air.