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Lydia rose up on her tiptoes to reach a bottle on a shelf above. She retrieved it and turned to pour the liquor in a small glass. She bumped into the counter with her large belly, shaking her head and giggling at her own ineptness.
“Forget you’re with child?” the man at the counter asked with a big grin.
She grinned back. “Yes. I’m always doing that.” She rested her hand on her belly. “First child. Maybe by the second or third, I’ll remember when I’m so big.”
“Not long now, eh?” the man went on, wrapped his hand around the glass with two shots of whiskey in it.
“Could be any day now, I’d say,” Lydia replied.
“I sure hope you aren’t here when it happens.”
Lydia raised her eyebrows. “I’m in agreement.”
Miguel’s firm voice came from behind Lydia when he pushed open the door. He was turned to the employees of the hotel following him. “You’ve each been given your room numbers. Make sure those rooms are spit-spot. I mean it. We don’t want our reputation ruined because of dirty rooms or rodents having a field day in the trash that’s left behind. I know none of you want to clean up after rowdy cowboys and travelers, but just remember that is what you are doing here. We pay you two dollars a day so that you will do your jobs well. Remember, when we make money, you make money. People will flock to the best hotels, keep that in mind.”
The employees all nodded at Miguel, some smiling at Lydia as they went past her to go to the rooms they’d been assigned. Miguel came over to Lydia and leaned on the counter, watching her run a cloth through the several glasses she was cleaning.
“You seen Jack?” he asked.
Lydia was about to answer when the front doors to the hotel both opened at the same time. A man came in, pushing them closed behind him. He’d blocked the bright rays of the sun, and his shape caught Lydia off guard. There was only one man she knew who was that large and intimidating while managing to dress in elegant clothes.
Desmond Ashford.
Chills ran up her arms and down her spine. She glanced quickly at Miguel, who also saw who it was who’d entered. He was standing up straight, both hands on the counter.
Several customers had noticed Lydia and Miguel’s reaction to Ashford. Fear met their features. Some of them stopped eating altogether to see what was going to happen.
Lydia was glad it wasn’t a terribly busy time for their hotel. The more customers who saw what might happen next, the fewer customers they would have next vacation season.
“What do you want, Ashford?” Miguel asked, his voice low and growling.
Lydia was stunned to see Ashford set at the furthest table away from the bar, the first one he came to after entering. He took his hat off and laid it on the table. Then he unholstered his gun and set it next to his hat.
“I am interested in where Jack Callahan is.” He scanned Lydia, making her feel uncomfortable.
“You’re gonna have to let that whole thing go sometime, Ashford,” Miguel growled. Lydia didn’t hear nervousness in her friend’s voice but he had to be thinking about the gunshot wound that even now, almost two years later, had caused him to use a cane when he walked. He had almost died. That wasn’t something people forgot.
“I ain’t here for you, Miguel,” Ashford continued. “In fact, now that we are face to face again, I’d like to offer my apologies for shooting you the way I did.”
Lydia was stunned. She turned her eyes to Miguel, who looked back at her. She saw confusion in his eyes.
“I beg your pardon?” Miguel asked, his voice a tad softer. “Why? Why would you apologize to me?”
“Because you were not my intended target. I was… rash… in pulling the trigger. So I will not hold you responsible for what Jack and his family did to my father and my family.”
Lydia tried not to react when Jack emerged from one of the tables in the corner that was hidden from view most of the time. An employee he was interviewing also came out from the booth, but she looked terribly frightened and froze when she saw Jack pull out his gun. Jack approached Ashford in near silence.
A second or two later, he was directly behind Ashford, who was still staring at Lydia and Miguel. He had no idea what was about to happen. Lydia was proud of Jack for his silent approach. Ashford’s gun still sat on the table in front of him. She wished she was spry enough to leap over the counter, run to the table and snatch the gun.
She stayed where she was.
Ashford’s face drained of color, and his eyes widened when Jack pressed the gun barrel against the back of the man’s head.
“You should have stayed away, Ashford,” Jack said, keeping his voice low. Everyone heard what he said. There was no sound from anyone in the room but him.
Ashford recovered in mere seconds, a resolute look coming to his face.
“You will have to pull the trigger, Jack,” Desmond stated dryly. “I will never give up my quest to have my revenge for what you did to my father. You destroyed my family. My mother died of heartbreak after you took my father. Your Uncle Johnny was a scoundrel and a snake for what he did.”
“Lydia, come get this man’s gun please.”
Jack didn’t have to ask twice. Lydia hurried around the counter, sauntering straight to the chair and removing the gun from its surface. She looked down on it, unsure what Jack wanted her to do next. He already had a gun aimed at Ashford. Did he want her to do that, as well?
Jack knew his wife well. She could tell he understood her trepidation.
“Give the gun to Miguel.” To Ashford he said, “You will get it back if you leave here peacefully.”
Ashford opened his mouth to respond but shut it when Jack pushed the barrel harder into his skull.
“First you’re going to listen to reason,” he said. “So don’t speak. Just listen.”
Ashford must have known he held no cards in this game. His mouth snapped shut and though Lydia could see resentment on his face, he said nothing more. She was glad he respected Jack’s commands. She didn’t want to see Jack kill someone right there in the hotel. She knew it wasn’t something she would easily forget.
“Proceed then,” Ashford said, formally.
Jack moved to sit in one of the chairs at the same table, his gun pointed at Ashford, though his finger was not on the trigger.
Lydia saw the imploring way he was looking at Ashford. He’d been talking about this very event to her for the last two years, not knowing if the opportunity would ever come about. Ashford hadn’t let Jack talk on the train. Now he was forced to listen to what her husband had to say.
“Listen,” Jack began, “I know how you’re feeling. I really do. But I need you to think back, think real far back and see if you can muster up some of those old memories, including the way you felt. You’re about ten years older than I am. You were someone I looked up to when I was a child. My uncle Johnny and your pa, Blackie, they were friends!”
Ashford snorted, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest, his eyes darting to the side so he wouldn’t have to look at Jack. Lydia knew Jack wasn’t worried about Ashford looking at him. All he wanted the man to do was listen.
“I mean it, Des. You remember when I used to follow you around asking you questions? Even when you were fifteen and I was just five years old, you were nice to me. You taught me how to spin a gun on my finger. You took me target shooting to help me practice. You even helped me learn my school lessons when I was confused.”
These were things Lydia had never heard before. The realization that Desmond had been a friend had never occurred to her before. And the impact it had on Ashford was immediate and noticeable.
His face relaxed, his eyes sliding back to Jack.
Jack nodded. “You do remember, don’t you?”
When Ashford responded, Lydia heard the pain in his voice. She finally understood why Ashford behaved the way he had on the train.
“We were friends, Des. My Uncle Johnny and I were heartbroken when that sheriff shot your pa. Uncle Johnny was so mad. If you’d been there, you would have seen it. He and Blackie were arguing, sure, but Uncle Johnny never ever wanted that to happen to your pa. He almost got in a fist fight with the sheriff. I’ll bet you that sheriff carried the weight of what he’d done for the rest of his life. I know my Uncle Johnny did. He talked about it all the time. A couple times, he got drunk and cried. That’s right, he cried for your pa.”
Lydia was astounded to see Ashford’s eyes turn bright red, standing tears refusing to fall.
“You don’t have to make me understand or pay for what that sheriff did. And I don’t wanna be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, expecting an old friend to pop up around a corner and shoot me dead.”
Ashford opened his mouth to say something, but it was only a croak. He cleared his throat and asked, “Uncle Johnny was really mad?”
Lydia hadn’t expected the voice of a child and the term Ashford used to refer to Johnny Callahan.
“He was mad,” Jack replied. “He was mad as hell. He was devastated. He’d lost his best friend. He often told me it was the worst day of his life. Even worse than when he found out he was saddled with his nephew because his own brother and brother’s wife had been killed.”
Ashford grinned while a few tears escaped his eyes. “Hard to believe there was a worse day for him than that one.”
Jack set his gun down on the table, his shoulders relaxing, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Lydia had to grab a washcloth from behind the counter to which she’d returned. Miguel put an arm around her shoulders. She glanced at him but his eyes were still on Jack and Ashford.
Jack put his elbow on the table, his hand extended to Ashford.
“Can we be friends again, Des?”
It took Ashford a moment before he nodded. He let out a shaky breath and took Jack’s hand with his own. Both men rose at the same time and came together in a hug, each one patting the other on the back, their joined hands still between them.
“You promise to stop tryin’ to kill me, Des?”
As they pulled apart, Ashford laughed, nodding. “Yeah, Jack. I promise.”
*****
Lydia stared out at the setting sun, listening to the waves wash up on the shore and retreat out into the ocean. The moon was full and bright, the stars twinkling above them almost in unison with the night sounds of insects and frogs.
Jack slipped an arm around her shoulders. She looked at him, her heart soft for her husband.
“I’m so glad you got your old friend back,” she said. “Do you think he’ll keep his promise?”
Jack nodded, a confident look on his face. He rested one hand on her belly, hugging her from the side. “I do. He was a good friend all those years ago. And I told the truth. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t the whole truth.”
Lydia rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’m so glad we met, Jack,” she said. “I never thought my life would end up like this.”
“Oh, this isn’t the end, my love,” Jack said, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “We have a long future ahead of us, God willing. And now we don’t have to live it waiting for a surprise coming from the shadows.”
“How glorious,” Lydia mumbled, relaxing against him, satisfaction and contentment filling her to the brim. She had the best life now.
A life unexpected. A life welcomed.
“I’ll never be who they want me to be,” Jack whispered, catching her attention. “I’ll never match their plan.” He looked at her with a grin. “That’s okay; the moon made me. And she loves me for who I am.” He kissed the side of her head. “Just a little poem I read about the moon god. Someone told me about that one time. Can’t remember who it was.”
Lydia laughed softly, her love for her husband making her heart feel full and warm.
OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!
Grab my new series, "Guns and Justice in the West", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!
Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed my new Western Adventure story and the extended epilogue.
Please let me know your thoughts below.