Chapter Twenty-one
IT WAS TWO DAYS BEFORERoman could sell enough to pay for a one-way fare home for Clara, and then it was only enough for a partial journey by train. She’d have to take a stage for part of the way. The money in his hand felt like utter failure. He didn’t know what he’d write to his parents, and right then, he didn’t much care. All he could picture was living every day like this one—without Clara.
But he didn’t deserve her. Not if he couldn’t afford to finish building the roof to put over her head, and certainly not if he couldn’t keep the livery in business. He wasn’t capable of living a settled life—that’s what he should have known all along, and it was clear to him now. At least he could afford to send her home, back to the life she once had. Surely there was a man in Virginia who could marry and provide for her.
Roman crumpled the bills in his hand. It was for the best, despite the jealousy that arose when he thought of this unnamed, unknown man. He was doing what was right for Clara, whether she believed it to be or not.
She was angry with him, so much so she hadn’t bothered to seek him out since he’d sent her back to the boardinghouse that afternoon by the creek. Sweet Clara, with her optimism overflowing so much that she generally ignored whatever rule he’d set down in place of believing the best. Except this time. She hadn’t been by the livery at all, never mind about town. Had he squashed that confidence from her for good?
He hoped not. But perhaps he’d at least displaced any notion she’d had that he was the man for her. He’d rather send her home angry and disappointed than see her shivering and hungry a year from now because he was incapable of doing anything other than running cattle.
It was better this way.
And at some point his heart would begin to believe that too.
“Mr. Carlisle?” Young Christopher Rennet stood over him, clutching an envelope in his hand.
Roman blinked at the boy. He’d been out here for so long the sun had sunk in the sky and the evening chill had set in. Another sleepless night of sitting awake and waiting for men from his past, rifle in his lap, yawned ahead. “Yes?” he finally said to Christopher.
“A letter for you.” The kid held out the wrinkled envelope.
Roman stared at it a moment before taking it. Mr. Thomason wasn’t in the habit of delivering mail, instead keeping it at the depot post office until one stopped by to collect it. The envelope itself was blank, without even a name. “Did Thomason send you with this?”
“No, sir. I was on my way to get some supper when a fellow asked me to deliver this to you. He paid me.” The kid held up a coin with a grin.
Roman tore the letter open, praying with all his might it wasn’t yet another customer notifying him that he’d be taking his horse up to the hotel livery. He unfolded the paper inside to find feminine penmanship—one that he’d seen lately in his ledger books.
My Dear Mr. Carlisle,
Please meet me by the creek as soon as possible. You will know where. I have something important to show you.
Yours,
Miss Brown
“What did the man look like?” Roman asked, jerking his head up to find that Christopher had already left. He stood, his gaze returning to the words in his hand. It was her writing, of that much he was certain. But why would she write to him instead of simply coming by the livery, particularly if she were already brushing aside his insistence—again—that she remain at the boardinghouse? It made no sense. And then—
“Roman?” Jeremiah stood in the doorway, his hat pushed back to reveal a mess of hair and a face that looked as if it needed a month’s worth of sleep. “You eat yet?”
Roman shook his head slowly, glancing down at the letter before handing it to Jeremiah. “What do you make of that?”
Jeremiah read it out loud, slowly, then looked up at Roman. “Sounds as if the lady wishes you to meet her by the creek.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned.
Roman frowned. “I’m sending her home.”
“Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” Jeremiah’s usually cheerful countenance fell.
“I can’t marry her, Jeremiah.” Roman read the letter again, trying to discern what felt off about it, besides its very presence.
“Why not? She’s a good girl, friendly and kind. And she likes horses,” Jeremiah replied, as if that was all that mattered. “And strangely enough, she likes you too.”
“Our business is falling apart, if you haven’t noticed,” Roman said shortly. “I can’t take on the responsibility of a wife if I can’t ensure she’s provided for.”
“It ain’t falling apart.”
Roman looked up from the letter to find Jeremiah staring him down. He threw out his hand, the letter bending in the breeze. “What do you call it then? We’ve lost how many horses? Whether to thieves or the fear of theft, it doesn’t matter. I can’t afford to keep running the place if we have no customers.”
Jeremiah crossed his arms and regarded Roman for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. But I choose to look at it as a momentary setback. Those fellas will get themselves caught and strung up soon enough. We’ll persevere. So long as you don’t give up, anyhow. And I think you’re a fool to let that woman go because you’re afraid.”
