“Coyte is special,” Jimmy said between bites.
“My father traveled to Laramie City and on his way back he found a pack of coyotes after a pup. He chased away the coyotes and rescued the pup and brought her home,” Daniel explained. He was about to break a piece of bread and paused as he saw Matthew succumb to Ruth’s tricks to get him to eat.
Jimmy chuckled, “Daniel was around twelve years old at the time and for some reason he just couldn’t say coyote, so the name Coyte stuck. It was cute, but I remember you didn’t think so,” Jimmy gave a quick nod in Daniel’s direction.
Daniel flushed with embarrassment to hear this juvenile story told to Ruth. He’d rather they had just said Coyte was rescued by his father.
“Ruth, how was your adventure today with Dr. Grant?” Elizabeth asked, watching her trick Matthew into eating his food.
Ruth turned away from Matthew, who was now playing with his food instead of eating it.
“It was fun and exciting,” Ruth said, her eyes sparkling. “I have never been to Cheyenne before and there were so many interesting people. It’s bigger than Colorado Springs.”
“I’m glad that you managed to tolerate this ill-tempered man for an entire morning,” Elizabeth chuckled, inclining her head toward Daniel.
Daniel was displeased, and his open palm hit the table without warning. “Ill-tempered?” He fixed Elizabeth with a stony glare. She looked at him in astonishment at his sudden outburst. It took her by surprise, and she paled.
“Let’s see you have busy morning in town, handle a medical emergency, and come home dog tired,” Daniel ranted, his voice was full of anger. He stopped short when he saw Ruth’s shocked face. He didn’t like it when she looked at him like that.
“Oh, come now,” Elizabeth smiled, trying to jolly her employer. “I’m only pulling your leg.”
“You need to learn when to pull in your horns,” Daniel huffed. He pushed back his chair and stood, downed his coffee in one gulp, and left the dining room. As he stomped off to the stairs, he heard Ruth murmur,“Pull in your horns?”
He knew he overreacted, but he couldn’t stand the way Ruth looked at him. Was he so bad that he aroused her to terror? Were his efforts today all for nothing? He didn’t want her to hate him, but did it even matter at this point? He heard Matthew’s screams and felt the sudden urge to go to him. Had he frightened his own son as well?
Entering his room, he sat at his walnut writing desk. It had decorative designs at the edges and drawers on either side. He opened the bottom drawer and found a bottle of unopened whiskey. He wondered if this was the way he would live the rest of his life. He loathed the thought. Yet he found the smooth malt taste of the liquid soothing and lifted the bottle to his lips. If his father had been alive, Daniel would not need the whiskey; he would not need to contemplate his place and purpose in life.
His father had been devoted to God and had shown him the way forward and what it meant to serve God. Daniel knew in his heart that this was not what his father intended. He would scold his son if he were here now. The guilt and pain over Mary Jane’s death had never left Daniel. How could he ever forgive himself, and would he ever be able to crawl out from his miserable responsibility for her death?
And he missed her tremendously—her kind-heartedness and her compassion. And then thre was Ruth. What made him think of Ruth at that moment? Why did he care what she thought and why could he not stop thinking about her? Did God bring Ruth to torture him? Mary Jane had also served the Lord and had been just as faithful. He knew that God could have prevented her death because God knew everything. But he could have prevented it, too. If he hadn’t insisted that she go to the bank she would be alive today. But that misstep on his part would torture him with fire for the rest of his life; it would ensure that he would never find happiness again. Everything dear to him, save for Matthew, had been ripped away from him. And God could have prevented it, but He didn’t.
He slowly brought the whiskey bottle to his lips again, and found solitude and a modicum of peace.
***
The rooster crowed and Daniel rolled over onto his side and rubbed his throbbing head. He closed his eyes as the curtains filtered the first light of dawn. Slowly the events of the previous days returned and he groaned in misery. To his left he saw the empty whiskey bottle standing on the mahogany nightstand and groaned.
There was a washbowl and pitcher of water on a chest of drawers against the wall. On the wall above the chest was a framed oval mirror, which provided the unpleasant morning surprise that he looked worse than a wild horse. After he washed his face and dressed, he descended somewhat sheepishly to the dining room where the aromas of fresh coffee, bacon, and warm bread greeted him.
Ruth and Matthew were already at the table. He wondered what she thought of him after his behavior at dinner last night and chose not to meet her eyes for fear of what he might see there.
Elizabeth brought in a platter of crisp bacon and a fresh pot of coffee and set them on the table. The awkward silence was interrupted only by Matthew’s cheerful babbling.
“Kept you some apple pie,” Elizabeth ventured. It was a peace offering and Daniel looked and nodded his appreciation.
“Did you sleep well?” Ruth’s voice was cheery, and she smiled as he poured coffee for himself.
He frowned, “Yes, I suppose.” He stirred a bit of cream in his coffee and thought of her new furniture. He hoped she wasn’t just being polite when she said she liked it. “Have you settled in the room, now? And it’s to your liking?”
Ruth beamed at him. “Yes, I’ve arranged everything just the way my old room was in Colorado.”
She seemed joyful this morning. Had something happen that he wasn’t aware of, or did new furniture simply make her this happy?
“You’re full of cheer today,” he observed, reaching for the bacon platter.
“A new day is full of possibilities, and we are in control of our …”
“Miss McKinley, you seem happy—different from your usual reserved demeanor.”
