Six weeks later
There was an uncomfortable chill in the air when Jack awakened one Saturday morning in early November, six weeks after Oliver Knapp had been apprehended. He knew without opening his eyes that the fire in the stove had died down, but he also knew if he got up to put more wood in the stove, it would rouse him to the degree that he would be unable to go back to sleep. He wanted to sleep awhile longer, so, without even opening his eyes, he rolled over on his side and curled up for warmth as he yanked the covers over his head.
A great deal had happened in the weeks following Oliver Knapp’s arrest. As had been anticipated, he, Clive, Marie, and Harvey Graham the prospector had been summoned to testify at Fort Benton, where the trial had been conducted. As expected, Knapp had been found guilty of kidnapping and attempted murder, convictions that would send him to prison for years. Marie had comported herself well, describing in detail the treatment she had received at the hands of the Englishman, and offering evidence that he had murdered his wife. With that testimony, the Canadian officials had drafted a letter to the British court system in the hopes that the British would investigate the killing, and that Knapp would be deported to stand trial in England as well. In any case, it seemed that he was out of their lives for good.
Things were going well in Bordertown, as well. The work on Grace Upton’s new house in an open field behind the schoolhouse on the Canadian side of town had been completed just the day before, and today was moving day for the young teacher. Jack and Clive and Marie had all volunteered to help her get settled in her new accommodations.
Cold air seeped through the layers of quilts, effectively preventing him from accomplishing his desired slumber.
Groaning with the reluctance of leaving his bed, he pushed back the covers and sat up on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his unruly hair. The wooden floor was cold, and the chill made its way through the holes in his socks. Some day, he would have to locate Juanita’s sewing kit in the midst of all his clutter and do something about mending those holes.
“Come on, Craddock,” he said to himself. “Get yer backside off the bed, and do what needs doin’ ‘fore ya turn into an icicle!”
He stood up, paused to stretch his back, then hurried across the floor to the woodbox in the corner. Grabbing several of the largest sticks, he opened the damper and shoved them in, then stoked the embers into a blaze. He closed the damper again, and spread his chilled hands before it, savoring the warmth. Next, he poured water in the coffee pot, measured out some coffee from the tin, and placed it on top of the stove to heat. A good hot cup of coffee would warm him up.
As he turned away from the stove, he noticed for the first time the large white fluffy flakes of snow that were falling softly outside his window. Scratching his chest through his longhandle underwear, he yawned as he walked to the window to look out.
It must have been snowing most of the night, for the snow was at least six inches deep, with drifts up to ten inches. Winter had officially arrived in Bordertown.
The first significant snowfall was met each year with mixed feelings from the transplanted Texan. It was beautiful and exciting to the children, who would soon be outside with their sleds. He and Willie had frequently engaged in snowball fights in the fresh snow, but Willie was no longer there, and the cold that came off the window pane reminded him of the long, cold winter that was ahead.
As he watched, a couple of the boys from town rushed past his window pulling a sled behind them. They were headed for the nearest hill and a morning of fun. Soon, almost every one of the town’s children would join them there. He smiled, wishing there was something the adults could do in the snow that was fun.
An idea suddenly presented itself. Maybe there was something they could do!
Turning away from the window, he pulled on his pants and boots, and put on his chaps for added warmth. Then he found a relatively clean flannel shirt to wear. He never made up the bed. What was the point in that? It would just have to be turned down again at bedtime. Then, he slapped his favorite hat on his head, grabbed his heavy coat and started for the door, then remembered the pot of coffee on the stove. Turning quickly on his heel, he rushed back to the stove and grasped the pot by the handle.
“Ouch!”
It was hot! He slammed it down on the stove and shook his hand to cool it, then reached for the rag and used it to grasp the hot handle to move it off the stove.
Then, he rushed out the door and closed it securely behind him. With his boots crunching in the snow, he pulled on his gloves as he made his way to the boardwalk in front of the saloon. Unlike the marshal’s office, the saloon’s roof extended out to the edge of the boardwalk, keeping rain and snow from accumulating in front of the door. The doors to the saloon were still closed, indicating that Zack and Diane had not yet opened up for breakfast. He hurried past.
As he passed the office, he found Clive shivering in the covered recess just outside the door of his personal accommodations, gathering an armload of firewood from the pile he kept stored there. He looked up when he heard Jack approaching. “Good morning, Jack. Looks like winter has arrived.”
“Yup,” Jack replied, but instead of opening the door to the office and going in, he hurried past without stopping, clearly a man on a mission.
Clive gazed after him, surprised. “Where are you going?”
“No place, Clive. Just goin’ to the stable.”
“Is your horse sick or something?”
“Nope. See you later, Clive.”
Clive watched for several moments as Jack continued down the boardwalk then crossed the street toward the stable. Still puzzled that the marshal was getting out in the cold for no apparent reason, but not interested enough to follow, Clive turned and carried his armload of firewood into his residence and closed the door against the cold.
Lucy sat despondently at the east window in Marie’s parlor, gazing out at the snowfall, watching with longing in her eyes as more and more of the town’s children headed outside town with their sleds. She sighed heavily as Marie entered the parlor from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.
The French woman paused in the doorway, smiling fondly at the girl she loved as a daughter. “Lucy?”
The girl whirled around to face her, blue eyes large and depressed.
Reaching out, she stroked a lock of hair from Lucy’s forehead. “It’s hard growing up, isn’t it?”
Lucy sighed again, and nodded, then turned back to the window. A moment later, both were startled by a knock at the front door.
“Who would be calling in this weather?” Marie wondered.
Lucy ran to the south parlor window and looked out at the man who was bundled up on the front porch. “It’s Marshal Craddock!” she announced just as he knocked on the door again.
Marie opened the door. “Good morning, Jack. What brings you out this morning?”
“I thought maybe you and Lucy would like to go for a sleigh ride.”
Marie and Lucy looked past the marshal to the horse that waited beside the front gate, hitched to a cutter. Lucy’s face lit up, eagerly, and she looked quickly at Marie. “Oh, can we?” she pleaded.
Marie smiled fondly at the girl. “All right. Get your wraps.” While Lucy pounded up the stairs to get her heaviest coat, Marie said, “That was very thoughtful of you, Jack. She’s been a little depressed this morning. She’s gotten too old to play in the snow with the younger children, but still young enough to want to.”
“I certainly understand that,” Jack replied with feeling. “I’d kinda like to be out there sledding down a steep hill, too.”
Her smile was teasing. “I’m surprised you aren’t, Jack.”
“Gotta admit, it’s purely temptin’, Marie, but then I though of this here sleigh and thought it might pass an enjoyable mornin’.”
“I’ll get my wraps,” she said. “Would you like to come in out of the cold?”
He stamped the snow from his boots and brushed it from his hair and coat with his hands, then stepped into Marie’s foyer and closed the door behind him to wait while the two women put on their coats and mufflers and gloves. Bundled in her heaviest coat, Lucy pounded back down the stairs while Marie removed her apron, and put on her own coat and muffler.
Pulling their hoods up over their heads, they stepped outside in the cold air, and Jack escorted them to the cutter. Offering his hand, he assisted each on into the small sleigh and helped them tuck the lap robe around them for added warmth. “Comfortable?”
“Yes,” they chimed.
He climbed in the other side and took up the reins. Turning the horse toward town, he flicked the reins lightly across the animal’s broad rump, and they started off at a trot, a musical jingling resounding with each beat of the horse’s hooves.
“Jiingle bells!” Lucy exclaimed with delight, spying the little bells that were attached to the harness. She clutched his arm, happily. “You thought of everything!”
Jack exchanged smiles with Marie over the girl’s head, pleased by her excitement. “I know it’s a little early for Christmas, but I thought it might put us in the spirit.”
“I know you don’t own a sleigh. Wherever did you get it?” Marie said.
“I borrowed it from Wendell MacWherter. I remembered that he had brung it in years ago, and never uses it, so he was more ‘n willin’ to let me take it out for a ride.”
Eager to stretch its legs, the horse arched its neck and put more spring into its step as it proceeded down Main Street and crossed the border.
Clive had completed his morning hygiene routine, and had moved into the office to stoke up the fire there when he heard the unexpected sound of jingle bells approaching. Turning curiously toward the window, he watched as Jack, Marie, and Lucy glided past in MacWherter’s cutter.
“Why that sneaky . . . .” he began, then fell silent, conceding that Jack had gotten one up on him in their continuing courtship of Marie. He sighed. “Now why didn’t I think of that?” Pressing close against the window, he watched until they disappeared around the bend in the road on the south end of town, then, feeling somewhat deflated, he finished adding wood to the stove, and sat down at his desk to take up his morning paperwork.
Unable to concentrate on his work, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sleigh ride and the company being enjoyed by his friend and rival. Still juggling his personal time with Marie and Grace, he enjoyed the company of both. Grace still insisted that they had been moving too quickly in their relationship early on, but she welcomed his courtship, even though he knew she was jealous of the time he spent with Marie. With Marie otherwise occupied this morning, he wondered if Grace was busy. It was her last morning at the house on the American side, so she was probably busy packing in preparation for the move.
Still, a ride in the snow might be a nice distraction for her. Everyone needed a break now and then. Didn’t Zack Denny have a sleigh, too?
He tossed his pen down on the paper and recapped his bottle of ink, then grabbed his coat from the peg on the wall, and rushed down the street to the saloon.
Zack was just unlocking the doors as Clive hurried inside.
“I gotta tell you, Corporal, mornings like this make me wish I was still in Atlanta!” Zack complained as he closed the door behind the mountie.
“Zack, do you still have that cutter?”
“Yeah, but if you’re wantin’ to borrow it, I’m afraid Dom just asked if he and Sally could use it. They saw the marshal headin’ off with Mrs. Dumont, and thought it looked like fun. When they get back, I may take Diane out for a drive.” He smiled, fondly. “I don’t suppose Diane and me have taken a drive just for the fun of it in years!”
Clive’s expression fell with disappointment. “Oh. Any idea when they might get back?”
“Nope. ‘Fraid not. You thinkin’ on taking Miss Upton out for a spin?”
He shrugged. “I was thinking about it, but ---“
“Pert near everybody in Bordertown has a sleigh of some kind. Try Henry Haddon. I’m pretty sure he’d let you use his.”
“Thanks, Zack.” With renewed hope, Clive rushed over the Haddon household, and to his delight, he was permitted to borrow the rarely used cutter. Like many families in Bordertown, Haddon owned a cutter, but because they lived within the boundaries of town, they had little use for it. The entire town was within walking distance of the house.
After hitching the cutter to a dependable buggy horse, Clive drove to Grace’s house, and drew to a halt near her porch. She had been watching the snowfall from the front window, wondering if it would affect the move to her new home that day. As he climbed from the sleigh, she opened the door and called, “What are you up to, Clive Bennett?”
He gestured proudly toward the cutter. “I wondered if you might permit me to escort you for a sleigh ride.”
With a wide smile on her attractive face, she observed the small sleigh with more eagerness than she had wanted to express. “Why, I’d be delighted. I’ll get my coat.” She disappeared briefly inside the door again, then emerged a moment later buttoning up her heavy winter coat.
Clive assisted her into the cutter, then climbed in beside her and carefully arranged the lap robe over their lower bodies. Then he took up the reins, and they moved out of town at a slow jog.
They passed other couples, having followed Jack’s lead, who had ventured out in the snowfall for a morning of sleighing. The route they took carried them onto the main road leading south from Bordertown, onto the open plains and through small wooded areas. They all passed one another on occasion, bidding one another good morning, but only Jack’s horse carried the cheerful sound of jingle bells.
After several hours of enjoyment, the couples began trickling back to town for cups of hot coffee or tea before the fireplace.
“Is that the right height?” Clive asked, holding the picture up against the wall on which it would be displayed in Grace’s new home.
“Perfect!” Grace replied.
While the mounted policeman hammered a nail in the wall to hang the picture, the young school teacher turned a half-circle in the parlor, smiling happily. Her new house was slightly larger than the house in which she had lived since her arrival in town, and it was clean and solidly built with new, fresh-smelling lumber. No drafts seeped in under the doors or windows. The kitchen table and countertops were newly constructed as well, and a beautifully honed mantle was large enough to hold the glass figurines she had brought with her from Hamilton. The snow shimmered through the large window which offered a view of the schoolhouse that was nestled in the snowdrifts on the other side of the 49th parallel. Farther south, she could just see the edge of the house she had just vacated.
All the men in town had donated their time, Americans as well as Canadians, and working together, the house had been completed in record time. Jack Craddock, having built his own house while in Texas, was an excellent carpenter and had taken charge of the construction, a fact which surprised not only her, but Clive and Marie as well, who were still learning that there was much more to the Texan than met the eye. “Ain’t nothin’ to puttin’ a house together,” he had modestly claimed, but Grace knew that he was pleased by the praise.
“Everyone did such a wonderful job,” she said aloud as she admired the parlor.
“A lot of the beauty of it is the new furniture your family sent from Hamilton,” Marie said. “This lounge is exquisite!”
Grace stroked the fabric on the lounge with her hand. “You think so? I mean, I’m not as experienced in furnishing a house as you are, but when Mother told me she had refurnished her house, and offered to ship her old furniture to me, it seemed a perfect option.”
“You’re mother has good taste,” Marie told her. “And the furniture looks lovely, much better than the old furniture from the other house. And, I bet it makes you feel more at home to have items that you’re familiar with.”
Grace nodded, happily. “Yes, it does.”
“All done,” Clive announced, placing the wire hanger of the picture frame over the nail. He straightened it carefully, then stood back to admire his work.
‘”Thank you, Clive,” Grace said.
“My pleasure.” He looked around the room. “Where is Jack?”
“He went to look in on Harvey Graham,” Marie replied. “He wanted to see if he was getting settled in all right.”
Clive nodded, approvingly. “That was thoughtful of Jack to suggest to the town council that Harvey be allowed to winter in the teachers’ old house in exchange for maintenance work and keeping firewood in the wood box at the school.”
“Well, it was only right, especially since Knapp destroyed the place he had previously wintered,” Marie agreed. “This late in the season, it would have been difficult for him to have found someplace else to live.”
“Mrs. Metzger wasn’t too happy,” Grace said, somberly, recalling the vehement protests from the woman at the town council meeting in which approval had been granted. “She says his presence next door will ruin the value of her property, and she’s afraid he’ll be a bad influence on her children. I hate to say it, but I can see her point.”
Clive shrugged. “He’ll only be there during the winter months. As soon as the last snow melts, he’ll be back up in the hills trying to make his fortune. He’s a bit of a hermit, so chances are, she’ll seldom see him except when he performs his work at the school, and if the things I’ve heard about him are true, he’ll probably do that before anyone even gets there. No, I don’t think he’ll cause any problems for her or her children. If he does, the council will take issue with it and resolve it.”
“That’s good to know,” she said, greatly relieved. “She already hates me enough. I’m sure she’ll find a way to blame me for this, too. At least I won’t have her spying on me!”
“All of that is behind you, now,” Marie told her, firmly. “Now, it is getting close to suppertime. I would like it very much if the both of you and Jack would join me for supper tonight.”
Grace shook her head. “Not this time. The three of you are going to help me christen my new house and my new stove by having supper with me! It’s the least I can do after all you help.”
Clive exchanged glances with Marie, then nodded eagerly. “I happen to know that you’re an excellent cook, so you can count me in!”
“I will join you as well, but only if you allow me to help,” Marie offered.
“Well, if it’s the only way I can get you to stay, then I accept,” Grace responded. “Let’s get started.”
The two women moved off to the kitchen to stoke up the fire in the new stove that Grace had just purchased from Marie’s store at a friendly discount.
With the snow crunching under his boots, Jack strode past Iris Metzger’s house, noticing the hostile face that was pressed to the window, but he ignored it. Chuckling to himself, he wondered how Harvey would deal with the meddling old biddy.
Smoke curled from the chimney of the house that formerly housed the teacher, carrying with it the smell of meat roasting on a spit. Harvey did not trust stoves and vowed never to use one, so the potbellied stoves that had stood in the front room and the bedroom had been removed to Grace’s new house. The kitchen stove had been left, but Jack suspected the old coot would probably cook his meals over the open flame in the fireplace, instead.
Carefully, he climbed the slick steps onto the front porch, and knocked on the door. A moment later, the door opened a crack and a single eye was visible from within.
“It’s jus’ me, Harvey. Jus’ stopped by to see if you was getting’ settled in all right.”
Recognizing the marshal, the man responsible for putting a roof over his head this winter, Harvey opened the door wider to admit him. “Afternoon, Marshal. Come on in outta the cold.”
Jack stamped the snow from his boots, and stepped into the house. Harvey closed the door behind him, and locked it securely.
His eyes immediately went to the fireplace, where a rabbit roasted over the blaze, confirming his suspicion that the old prospector would not be using the cook stove. Several bottles of whiskey stood on the mantle, one of them half empty.
Noticing that the marshal was gazing at the bottles, the old prospector quickly made the obligatory offer. “Care for a drink, Marshal?”
“No thank you, Harvey. I don’t drink.”
Harvey appeared startled that any man of reputation did not drink. “You don’t?”
“Thanks for the offer, though.”
Unaccustomed to sleeping in beds, Harvey had moved the mattress from the bed onto the floor in front of the fireplace, and a scruffy dog stood up from its bed on the mattress and stretched and yawned, then waved its tail in a friendly greeting as it moved toward the marshal to sniff his boots.
Jack knelt down to pet the dog. “Looks like you’re right at home, here, Harvey.”
“Sho’ nuff, Marshal, sho’ nuff, but I ain’t used to livin’ so close to strangers. Don’t rightly feel comfortable with so many people around. Don’t know if’n I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight.”
“Well, I think everyone will leave you alone, if that’s what you want,” Jack told him, standing up again. The dog returned to the mattress, and curled up on the sheets. “Still, you’re welcome to come on into town if that suits you, too.”
“Nope, I’ll be jes’ fine by m’self. I still don’t see why I can’t move ol’ Jenny into the bedroom, though. I ain’t gonna be usin’ it.”
“Well, Harvey, I can see yer point, but trust me on this: I think your mule will be much happier at the livery with others of her kind.”
“Well, mebbe yer right,” the old prospector reluctantly agreed. “It’s jes’ that she’n I ain’t never been separated a’fore. Yer sure this banker fella knows how to care for livestock?”
“I’m absolutely positive. You’ve seen my horses, and he talks good care o’ them, so don’t you worry none about yer Jenny.”
“Well, all right. We’ll leave her there, for now, but if’n she tells me she ain’t happy, I’ll be bringin’ her home.”
“Fair enough.” He did not add that the town council would not permit him to move his mule into the house. The town still owned the house, and there would be limits on what the old prospector would be allowed to do. Moving a mule into the structure would definitely be over the line.. “Well, I’d better be headin’ on out, now.”
“Glad ya came by, Marshal.” He nudged Jack in the side with a gnarled finger. “How’s them ribs?”
“Much better, now. Well, you need anything, you know where I live, so jus’ ask and I’ll see what I can do.”
“I ‘preciate that, Marshal.” He opened the door, and Jack stepped out into the cold again. The door closed behind him, and he heard the latch slide into place.
Jack shook his head, smiling to himself. Harvey didn’t possess anything worth stealing, unless someone believed he had actually found something worthwhile up in those hills, but that was unlikely. Turning up the collar of his coat, he stepped off the porch and ventured out into the snow again.
As he moved toward Main Street, passing Iris Metzger’s house, he saw the curtain move and a face filled the window again.
Deciding that it was time to teach the nosy old biddy a lesson, Jack reached under his coat and withdrew his pistol from its holster. Raising it into firing position, he sighted down the barrel, taking careful, deliberate aim at the window.
He heard a muffled shriek from inside the house, and the curtain immediately fell back into place. Laughing with delight at his prank, Jack returned the pistol to its holster. He knew he would likely hear from Wendell MacWherter about his treatment of the widow Metzger, but he didn’t care. Still laughing, he proceeded to the boardwalk, where he was met by Clive.
“Hey, Jack. Grace is cooking supper, and she’s invited us and Marie to join her.”
“Sounds good, Clive,” he replied, calming his laughter somewhat.
“What’s so funny?” Clive asked.
“Nothin’, Clive. Nothin’ at all!”
The two friends and colleagues strode down the boardwalk toward the Canadian side of town.
~ The End ~