Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Tara was kept busy for the rest of the day by Doctor Reardon and found herself with no time to sit with John again. There had been an accident between the mail coach and a wagon delivering supplies to the mercantile. The drivers had been injured, and Tara had spent most of the day assisting the surgeon, Joseph Hemingway, in setting broken bones.

"Bite down on that piece of wood," she had told one of the men, whose bone protruded from beneath the skin of his leg.

There had been much by way of anguished cries, but by the end of the day, all the newly admitted patients had been settled, and when it came time for Katie to return, Tara slipped back to the ward to say goodbye to John. She found him sleeping, the piece of paper with their conversation written out still in his hands. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes.

"Oh… was I asleep?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Fast asleep, yes. But I'm going now. I just wanted to let you know, that's all. I'll see you tomorrow. I was thinking… the fact you can read and write means something, doesn't it? You've obviously had an education," she said.

Doctor Reardon had assumed he could read and write, but the fact he was actually able to do so was significant. Not everyone could read and write, and certainly there were many people in Freemont who struggled to do so. There was every chance John came from a wealthy, educated background. He might own a business, or be involved in politics…

"I suppose that's right, yes. I hadn't thought about that. But there's something I've been wanting to tell you," he said. "I remembered… well, after Doctor Reardon asked me to write down my recollection of our conversation, a memory came to me. It was vivid, but it only lasted a moment. I was writing a letter. I could see myself doing it. I could feel myself doing it. I'm certain it's true."

Tara looked at him with interest. It was a significant thing to remember—even just that one memory meant something.

"But that's wonderful. It means you can remember something, and if you can remember that, perhaps you'll remember other things, too," she said, smiling at him as he nodded.

"I hope so. But I wanted to thank you. If it hadn't been for you… well, our conversation was what helped," he said.

"It's you that's remembering. But I'm glad to have been some help. I've got to go now, but I'll see you tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll have more time to talk," she said.

"I'd like that. I'd like it a lot," he replied.

Tara blushed. She shouldn't be forming an attachment with a patient. It wasn't right to fraternize in this way, and yet after what they had shared, it was hardly surprising she should feel drawn to him and concerned as to his recovery. Reminding herself of Kyle, she cleared her throat, nodding as she pulled herself back from the emotional response to his words.

"I'll see you then. Keep trying to remember," she said, and with that, she hurried out of the ward, calling out a goodbye to Katie and Peter as she left the clinic.

Outside, the snow was falling thickly, and Tara tried to turn her thoughts to Kyle and what she would find when she got home. Would he have stocked up at the mercantile as he had promised? Would the animals have been fed?

Pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders, Tara hurried along the street, making for the sheriff's office, but as she approached, she saw a figure hurrying toward her. It was Gina, and she looked terribly upset about something.

"Oh, there you are… I was just coming to wait for you outside the clinic," she said.

There were tears in her eyes, and Tara wondered what had happened.

"Let's go to the coffeehouse… what's wrong?" Tara asked as the two of them now crossed the street to Benson's Coffee Emporium, where the lamps in the window shone out against the gathering gloom of the winter's afternoon.

Inside, the coffeehouse was busy, but there was a table in the window, and the proprietor, Louisa Bennett, ushered them to sit down, calling out for a girl named Chloe to take their order. In the lamplight, Tara could see Gina had been crying. Her cheeks were red, her eyes bloodshot. When they had sat down, Tara took Gina's hand in hers, looking at her with what she hoped was a reassuring expression.

"It can't be that bad. Come on, now. Tell me what's wrong. Is Mr. Denziel being hard on you again?" she asked.

Tiberias Denziel was the manager of the bank. He was a stickler for precision, and there had been several occasions when Gina had been on the receiving end of his wrath for adding up a total incorrectly or losing a sum of money in her accounting. But Gina shook her head.

"No, it's not him. It's Randy," she said, and she promptly burst into tears.

Chloe came over to take their orders, and Tara ordered two sweet coffees, along with a slice of Louisa Bennett's famous Juneberry Pie, made using the preserved berries from the summer harvest. Chloe wrote down the order, glancing at the sobbing Gina with a look of sympathy.

"Men, huh?" she said, rolling her eyes, and as she went to prepare the order, Tara implored Gina to tell her what happened.

"What could Randy have possibly done? He's sweet on you, you're sweet on him… there's not another woman, is there?" Tara asked.

Gina and Randy had been on and off for some time, but there was no doubting the affection between them, and Tara had expected an engagement in the new year. Gina wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and shook her head.

"No… at least, I hope not. But Randy had a visit from the mayor. He's saying there isn't enough money to keep the school open past Easter. If it closes, that means Randy won't have a job, and if he doesn't have a job, he'll have to leave Freemont, and that means, oh…" She fell into another fit of sobbing, as Tara squeezed her hand.

"Oh, there, there, Gina. Don't upset yourself. It's not come to that, has it? I'm sure the town folk wouldn't want the school to close. I'd be willing to help raise some money to keep it open, and I'm sure others would, too. Has Randy told you he's thinking of leaving?" she asked, but Gina shook her head.

"He's as upset as I am about it. But I couldn't bear it if he left, Tara. What would I do?" she said as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Chloe brought the coffees, along with the slice of pie. "Two forks, is it?" she asked, holding up the cutlery.

"No, thank you… I think she needs it all to herself," Tara replied, pushing the plate toward Gina.

Gina dug the fork into the pie, taking a large mouthful as the tears continued.

"It's just so cruel. He was going to propose to me; I'm certain of it. We were going to have a little house out on the prairie, just the two of us. And then lots of children, and… oh, it's too dreadful," she exclaimed, dropping her fork as she sobbed.

Tara sighed. Of the two of them, Gina had always been the emotional one. It was not even certain the school would close, and despite feeling sorry for Gina, Tara could not help but think her friend was getting somewhat ahead of herself.

"But it's not come to that yet, has it? And even if it did, it doesn't mean Randy having to leave. There are other jobs he could do. Or you could go with him. I'm sure you could have your house on the prairie," Tara replied.

Gina sniffed, picking up her fork and digging it into the pie as she nodded.

"I know… I just wish things were simpler. Maybe I should've written to a man in Chicago," she said, shaking her head.

Tara now saw what this was really all about. Gina was upset about the prospect of losing Randy, but there was a jealousy there, too—another sideway comment about Tara's own luck when it came to romance. She had hoped to find an easy way to tell her friend of Kyle's arrival, and yet now it would be impossible not to upset Tara further, even as she had no choice but to tell her he had already arrived in Montana.

"Maybe you should. But you didn't. Randy loves you, and you love him. If that's the truth, then nothing else matters much, does it? If the school closes—and I very much hope it won't—the two of you can work something out. You'll find a place to go, and you'll be happy, too. Though I'll miss my best friend," she said, and Gina gave a weak smile.

"I don't think I could leave Freemont. I'd miss you, and Thomas, and Tiffany. But… I suppose we just have to wait and see. Anyway, I'm sorry. You were probably on your way home to rest. How's your patient?" she asked, but instead of answering the question, Tara thought it better to get the truth out of the way.

"Actually, I wasn't going home to rest. Well… I was, but there's someone waiting there for me. I don't mean staying with me. He's at the boarding house, but he's looking after the animals," she said, realizing she was stammering her words in her haste to get the explanation over with.

Gina looked at her curiously. "Someone's waiting for you? What do you mean?" she asked, putting down her fork as she spoke.

Tara took a deep breath. She didn't know why she should feel nervous—or guilty—about telling Gina the truth. Her friend had no right to judge her, even as Tara knew she would have an opinion on the matter.

"It's Kyle. Kyle Patrick, the man I've been writing to. He came early. I wasn't expecting him for another week, but he arrived yesterday. I was going to tell you next time I saw you," Tara said.

Gina nodded. "Well, I'm glad one of us can be happy," she replied in a curt tone.

Tara didn't know what to say. She wasn't about to apologize for the happiness she felt, nor the good fortune she had created for herself. Gina had no right to judge her that, or anything else. Plenty of women did what she had done, and there was no shame in what she and Kyle were doing.

"I want you to be happy for me, Gina. He's lovely. I think you'll like him. He's already been so kind and considerate. He was at the house first thing this morning to see to the animals, and he was going to go the mercantile, too, for supplies. I know it's not the usual way of going about things," she said, still refusing to apologize or make an excuse or concession for what she had done.

Kyle's arrival had brought with it a sense of happiness for Tara, and she intended to revel in it—whether Gina, or anyone else, liked it.

"But what do you know about him? I mean, really, what do you know about him? He wrote you some letters, and I'm sure he said a lot of nice things in those letters. But you don't know him at all," Gina replied. "Take Randy, for example. I know everything about him, and I've got plenty of people I can ask about him, too. But this man's a stranger. Did you even know what he looked like before he arrived?

Tara sighed. There was some truth in what her friend was saying, and yet she trusted her own judgment in the matter. She felt certain Kyle everything he said he was. The man who had arrived the day before was the same man who had written her the letters.

His mannerisms, his words, his demeanor, all matched the impression Tara had from his writing, and now the two of them would get to know one another, just as any courting couple would do.

"No. But I know what he looks like now. And we'll get to know one another. Every friend starts off as a stranger," Tara replied.

It was something her father had once said, and in responding to the letters she had received as a result of the advertisement, Tara had kept those words in mind. She felt certain she and Kyle would become friends—they already were—and, in time, something more. Gina looked at her skeptically.

"I just want you to be careful, Tara. That's all. Thomas was telling me he's heard of cases where a man comes from the East and takes over everything. The women are powerless to stop him," she said.

Tara had heard enough. She was not about to be talked out of it, and now all she wanted was to go home and see Kyle. She had been thinking about him all day. She finished her coffee and rose to her feet.

"I'm sure it's not going to come to that. Now, are you all right? I can walk home with you," she said, but Gina shook her head.

"I'll be all right. I just hope… well, I hope Randy doesn't leave. I couldn't bear it if he did," she said, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

Tara reached out and took her hand, squeezing it with a hopeful reassurance. "I'm sure it won't come to that," she replied.

Outside, it was dark, and lamps were lit in the windows of the houses along the main street. Tara and Gina parted ways on the corner near the sheriff's office, and Tara hurried home, eager to see Kyle. She felt sorry for Gina, but she refused to feel guilty for the fact of her own happiness, and as she approached the house, she found her heart beating fast the prospect of seeing Kyle again.

Don't get carried away, she told herself. But in her heart, she already had.