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APRIL1868
CHEYENNE, WYOMING
“What do you mean they stole the fire ladder?” Melody Doyle asked her father over breakfast.
“Well, just what I be sayin’,” her father replied. “Judge Kuykendall has run an ad in the paper sayin’ somebody stole it, and he wants it back immediately.”
“Seems like sneaking off with a large ladder would be difficult—and even harder to hide.” She poured hot coffee in her father’s cup.
“For sure it would be, now.” He downed half the cup in one gulp, then folded the paper. “No doubt someone will be findin’ it. Hopefully before the next fire. Oh, I forgot to be tellin’ ya, I’m gonna go to the prizefight tonight.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it, Da?”
Ever since late January when her father fell at work, his back had been giving him nothing but trouble. He couldn’t even get clearance from the railroad to return to work because of the problems it was causing him.
“I’m sure to be just fine, daughter. Don’t ya be worryin’ none.”
But Melody did worry. Da wasn’t his usual self. All her life, he had been the very image of strength and resilience. These last few weeks, however, he’d seemed so weary, and Melody was certain he was in pain.
She knew her father was frustrated after taking that fall. He’d been quite high on the ladder when he’d lost his balance and hit the ground on his back. The doctor said it was a wonder he hadn’t hit his head, but Da had only laughed and said if he had then there wouldn’t have been any injury at all. He was a hardheaded Irishman who’d definitely gone through worse, but for some reason, this fall had taken its toll.
“There is something I was hoping we could discuss.” Melody pushed back her empty plate. “Do you feel up to it?”
“For sure I do. Don’t be worryin’ about me. I won’t be coddled.”
She smiled and reached out to place her hand over his. “You’ve never allowed anyone to coddle you, and I won’t insult you by trying to start now. In fact, what I want to say is about as far from coddling as I can get.”
“Then speak. What would be on yar mind?”
For as long as Melody and her father had lived in Cheyenne, they’d called a tent home. It was the way of most section hands and their supervisors since the railroad kept them moving along the line.
Melody hadn’t minded in the beginning. It was fairly comfortable—at least as much as they could make it. The entire tent wasn’t much bigger than ten by ten, but it was all Melody had known for some time. Now, however, she was more than ready to enjoy the comforts of a real house with windows she could look out of and a nice large fireplace. Da seemed most content when he was living like a nomad, but not Melody.
Melody straightened. “I want to stay in Cheyenne. I know the railroad is moving out and that your job will take you west with it, but I’ve had my fill of moving from place to place. I like Cheyenne and the people we’ve come to know. Marybeth and Edward, the Taylors, Dr. Scott. They’re all good people, and I want to be a part of their lives. So I’d like to remain here when you go.
“And you won’t be that far away. They won’t get down the track more than a couple hundred miles, and you can always take the train back here on the weekends. I could find a nice place to stay and have room for you as well. Just think how pleasant it would be for you to leave the chaos of the end-of-the-tracks town and come back here to rest. You wouldn’t get to go to church with me since services are still held in the evening, but at least we’d have some time together.”
“So ya have yar heart set on staying in Cheyenne? I cannot say that this is surprisin’ to me,” Da began.
She nodded. “It’s been on my mind since Julesburg.”
“I cannot be holdin’ against ya the desire to settle yarself near friends. The folks ya named are good and godly people.” He tossed down the other half of his coffee and held out the cup for more. “But I cannot have ya stayin’ here without a man to protect ya. There will still be dangers even after the rowdies pull out.”
She refilled his cup. “But our friends will keep an eye on me. Marybeth even said I could come and live with them. I could stay in the house or in the little shed out back where they were living before the Hendersons sold them the house.”
Her father shook his head. “No, ya’ll be needin’ a husband, Melody. I’ve been feelin’ that way for a long time now. Ya need a man of yar own and children. Yar made for love and family—like yar ma.”
Melody only had vague memories of her mother. She’d died when Melody was barely ten years old. Now, almost sixteen years later, the memories were cloudy. She could hardly remember what her mother looked like, although Da said she was the spitting image of her mother.
“And while I know yar old enough to decide for yarself, I’m still yar da.”
“I respect that, Da. I don’t want to do anything against your wishes. I just hadn’t thought of marrying anyone. You’ll soon be heading west, and finding a husband in that short time is going to be difficult. After all, there’s no one special in my life.”
“Not that I don’t have men askin’ me all the time if they can be courtin’ ya. Of course, they know there’s a risk in approachin’ me, but that’s the first part of the test. If they’re brave enough to come and discuss it, it shows strength of character.” Da chuckled. “Yar a beauty like yar mother, and ya could have yar pick of suitors. We’ve only to put out the word.”
“Advertise for a husband? Is that what you’re suggesting?” She was surprised not to feel more appalled by the idea.
