Page 105 of In These Hills

“So you’re still thinking there’s no way you and Bethie can go. Nothing recent that’s changed that decision.”

Dodge shook his head. “That door has closed. Looks like we’ll be here for the duration.” He had attempted a positive tone but it came out accepting at best, and he hoped Uncle Jack didn’t think him ungrateful. Eager to change the subject, he gave him a brief update on the cattle. “So I’m sorry to say there’s been no improvement since you left.”

“I figured as much.” Uncle Jack stroked his beard. “So while I was in Nashville, I took the opportunity to send a telegram to Washington, DC, asking for the powers that be to prioritize this. I warned them how quickly it’s spreading.”

“If anyone can get their attention, Uncle Jack, it’s you.”

“Well, we’ll see. Speaking of which, Mr. Prince will be giving the distillery his undivided attention this week. And my recent visit with him promises the man will be in rare form.”

Dodge laughed. “Is he ever in anything else?”

“Is the gauger’s book ready for inspection?”

“It is. I looked everything over yesterday and put it back in the safe.”

“Good man. I’m sure the inspection will go well. It always does. I—”

The cabin door opened. “Uncle Jack!”

“Hey there, sweet girl!” Uncle Jack called out as Bethie raced down the stairs to him. He gave her a quick hug then chucked her beneath the chin, much as he’d done Kathleen when she’d been that age.

“We’re going shooting, Uncle Jack!” She scrambled up to the wagon seat. “Want to go with us?”

“I’d better not today, Miss Bethie. Besides, I haven’t done much shooting lately. I’m afraid you’d show me up!”

Bethie beamed. “Mrs. Citified is going with us.” She lifted her nose in the air, pretending to be a hoity-toity lady.

Uncle Jack turned to Dodge for translation.

“Mrs. Dunham,” Dodge supplied and slid Bethie a look that said that was enough on that subject.

“Ah . . .” Uncle Jack nodded slowly. “And just how did that invitation come about? Mrs. Dunham doesn’t strike me as a woman who would be familiar with that subject.”

“Oh, she’s not, Uncle Jack,” Bethie said quickly. “She doesn’t know the first thing about shooting. That’s why I asked her to go.” Bethie glanced at Dodge as though to say she knew she was walking a fine line. “She’s a teacher, after all, so I figured I’d learn her some things.”

“Teach her some things,” Dodge corrected. “And remember what we talked about.”

“I know. I’ll be respectful.” But the mischief in Bethie’s eyes indicated that might be a struggle.

“Well, you three have a good time and don’t be surprised, Bethie, if Mrs. Dunham catches on faster than you think she will. She’s a mighty smart—and surprising—woman.” Uncle Jack looked pointedly at Dodge. “But I’m thinking we all know that by now,” he said beneath his breath and headed back toward the office.

Again Dodge sensed the man was hinting at something he should know, but didn’t. Or worse, that Uncle Jack had somehow learned about what happened between him and Josephine in the office, and was discreetly chastising him for it. Either way, the guilt already knifing him grew a double blade then did a full quarter turn.

Minutes later, as he guided the wagon up the street to the boarding house, the wedding ring burning a hole in his pants pocket, he hoped Josephine had changed her mind about going with them. Then he caught sight of her.

She was sweeping the front porch, and Miss Mary was seated in one of the rockers watching her. Miss Mary leaned up and pointed toward an area Josephine had just swept, but apparently she’d missed something. Without hesitation, Josephine quickly swept that part of the porch again, then glanced back to see Miss Mary nodding in her typical plain-dealing fashion.

“Whoa, mules.” He pulled back on the reins, and Josephine looked up.

She smiled and waved, and a futile thought flashed across his mind. He wished he’d met her first, years back, before her husband, before she’d married, and that he could’ve taken her west with him, along with Kathleen and Bethie. What a life they would have had together, the four of them. Even if, knowing those three females, the West would have never been the same.

42

“ALWAYS FIGURE THE RIFLE IS LOADED,” Bethie said, her voice authoritative. “Because it probably is. Treat it with respect. Never, ever point it at anything unless you have a mind to shoot it. And today that means pointing it at me or Uncle Dodge. Or Jessie!”

The dog’s ears perked up from where she lay near Dodge as he leaned against the wagon, arms crossed, Stetson pulled low, simply watching.

Sitting on a tree stump and cradling Bethie’s rifle, Josephine nodded dutifully, fully aware of how much the girl—standing right in front of her, like a teacher instructing a class—was enjoying telling her what to do.