notions’ table to the ladies ready-to-wear. He moved to the hardware department, and she moved to the carpet department. Finally, they met.
“Good day to you, Miss Macgregor,” Jesse said.
“Good day to you, Mr. Carlisle,” Hannah replied.
“I heard of your father’s accident,” Jesse said. “I hope he is doing well.”
“It wasn’t an accident, Jesse,” Hannah said.
Jesse nodded. “I know it,” he said. “Hannah, I hope you don’t think that I, or my father, had anything to do with that.”
“I don’t think you had anything, directly, to do with it.”
“What do you mean, directly?”
“It’s this whole cattle and sheep thing,” Hannah said. “That’s what’s behind it…that’s what caused my father to be hurt.”
Jesse sighed. “Hannah, why does your father have to raise sheep? Why couldn’t he raise cattle like everyone else?”
“Why does it matter?” Hannah said. “Shouldn’t he have the right to raise anything he wants?”
“It’s just that…this is cattle country,” Jesse said.
“Before it was cattle country, it was silver mining country, and before that it belonged to the Indians and buffalo,” Hannah replied. “It’s a big country, Jesse, plenty big enough for cattle and sheep.”
“Cattle…sheep,” Jesse said. “That shouldn’t have anything to do with us.”
Hannah made a big show of making a critical examination of Jesse.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re right,” she said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with us. Despite what my papa thinks, you don’t have horns and a tail.”
Jesse laughed.
“May I help the young lady and gentleman?” a store clerk asked. “Are you interested in buying a coffin?”
“What?” Jesse asked.
Looking around them, Jesse and Hannah saw that, in this large store, they had met in the coffin department. They both laughed out loud.
“Really,” the indignant clerk said. “I see nothing humorous about coffins.”
“Hannah, dear, would you come help me for a moment?” Cynthia called.
“I’ve got to go,” Hannah said.
“I’ll see you around,” Jesse said.
Returning to the gents’ furnishings section, Jesse fingered through items as if he was interested in them. In fact, the only thing he was interested in was Hannah, and he watched her until she and her mother left the store.
After Cynthia and Hannah were dropped off, Ian and Hawke made a couple stops of their own. Leaving the wagon parked at the livery, Hawke got the wheelchair out of the back of the wagon and helped Ian into it. Then he pushed Ian along the board sidewalk, stopping in the hardware store, where Ian bought more nails to replace the ones he and Hawke had used in repairing the roof. He also bought a pair of work gloves.
“What do you say we go into the saloon and have a couple of drinks while we’re waiting on the ladies?” Ian suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” Hawke said.
When Hawke pushed Ian through the bat-wing doors, nearly all conversation stopped as the patrons of the saloon looked toward them. It was obvious that many had never even seen a wheelchair before, and if they had, it was certainly not in a saloon. The piano player had been grinding out a song, but he stopped in mid-bar as Hawke and Ian entered. The saloon fell into silence and everyone stared.
“Well, I don’t normally get that kind of a salute when I walk into a place, gentlemen, but I appreciate it,” Ian said jovially, and several in the saloon laughed.
“Push me up to the bar, Hawke, and let me buy you a beer,” he said.
Hawke complied, but because Ian was sitting in the chair, he was too low for the bar. Also, the chair couldn’t get close enough.
“Ian,” Chris Dumey called. “Come over here and join us.”
Chris was sitting at a table with Mark Patterson, Allen Cummings, and Ed Wright.
“Roll me over there, Hawke,” Ian said, and, obligingly, Hawke pushed Ian to the table.
One of the girls came over to get the order and
“Good day to you, Miss Macgregor,” Jesse said.
“Good day to you, Mr. Carlisle,” Hannah replied.
“I heard of your father’s accident,” Jesse said. “I hope he is doing well.”
“It wasn’t an accident, Jesse,” Hannah said.
Jesse nodded. “I know it,” he said. “Hannah, I hope you don’t think that I, or my father, had anything to do with that.”
“I don’t think you had anything, directly, to do with it.”
“What do you mean, directly?”
“It’s this whole cattle and sheep thing,” Hannah said. “That’s what’s behind it…that’s what caused my father to be hurt.”
Jesse sighed. “Hannah, why does your father have to raise sheep? Why couldn’t he raise cattle like everyone else?”
“Why does it matter?” Hannah said. “Shouldn’t he have the right to raise anything he wants?”
“It’s just that…this is cattle country,” Jesse said.
“Before it was cattle country, it was silver mining country, and before that it belonged to the Indians and buffalo,” Hannah replied. “It’s a big country, Jesse, plenty big enough for cattle and sheep.”
“Cattle…sheep,” Jesse said. “That shouldn’t have anything to do with us.”
Hannah made a big show of making a critical examination of Jesse.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re right,” she said. “It doesn’t have anything to do with us. Despite what my papa thinks, you don’t have horns and a tail.”
Jesse laughed.
“May I help the young lady and gentleman?” a store clerk asked. “Are you interested in buying a coffin?”
“What?” Jesse asked.
Looking around them, Jesse and Hannah saw that, in this large store, they had met in the coffin department. They both laughed out loud.
“Really,” the indignant clerk said. “I see nothing humorous about coffins.”
“Hannah, dear, would you come help me for a moment?” Cynthia called.
“I’ve got to go,” Hannah said.
“I’ll see you around,” Jesse said.
Returning to the gents’ furnishings section, Jesse fingered through items as if he was interested in them. In fact, the only thing he was interested in was Hannah, and he watched her until she and her mother left the store.
After Cynthia and Hannah were dropped off, Ian and Hawke made a couple stops of their own. Leaving the wagon parked at the livery, Hawke got the wheelchair out of the back of the wagon and helped Ian into it. Then he pushed Ian along the board sidewalk, stopping in the hardware store, where Ian bought more nails to replace the ones he and Hawke had used in repairing the roof. He also bought a pair of work gloves.
“What do you say we go into the saloon and have a couple of drinks while we’re waiting on the ladies?” Ian suggested.
“Sounds good to me,” Hawke said.
When Hawke pushed Ian through the bat-wing doors, nearly all conversation stopped as the patrons of the saloon looked toward them. It was obvious that many had never even seen a wheelchair before, and if they had, it was certainly not in a saloon. The piano player had been grinding out a song, but he stopped in mid-bar as Hawke and Ian entered. The saloon fell into silence and everyone stared.
“Well, I don’t normally get that kind of a salute when I walk into a place, gentlemen, but I appreciate it,” Ian said jovially, and several in the saloon laughed.
“Push me up to the bar, Hawke, and let me buy you a beer,” he said.
Hawke complied, but because Ian was sitting in the chair, he was too low for the bar. Also, the chair couldn’t get close enough.
“Ian,” Chris Dumey called. “Come over here and join us.”
Chris was sitting at a table with Mark Patterson, Allen Cummings, and Ed Wright.
“Roll me over there, Hawke,” Ian said, and, obligingly, Hawke pushed Ian to the table.
One of the girls came over to get the order and
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