The Dove House

“It’s wonderful, darling.”  Even though she wasn’t certain, she couldn’t bring herself to crush his spirits.  His beaming smile was encouragement enough.

“Isn’t it?” 

Thomas was taking in the landscape and lazy current that swept the town along and Emma tried to do the same.  After all, this was her new home, she better find something to like about it.

“Let’s go to Dove House now. I want to show it to you.  Wait till you see it.”  Thomas was all but quivering with pride and excitement it was hard for her not to catch the enthusiasm.

Thomas had written to her during their nearly one year separation detailing the building of the house and the brewery and every bit and bob about Primrose.  He had named their home after a pair of doves nesting in the trees. It was those letters that had her apprehensive to join him here and live their life.  It seemed such a hard life on the prairie and she wasn’t sure she was up for it.

They had begun walking the boardwalk again when Thomas leaned closer to her. “You’ll have nothing to worry about, my dear.  I have hired servants for you, you won’t have to lift a finger.  And I have furnished all the rooms save the bedroom suite.  I will leave that for you to do as you like.”

It sounded all so expensive and unnecessary to Emma.  The people around here didn’t seem to be concerned with material things at all, not like New York.  Not a one of them were dressed in any sort of finery, she was making a note to get different dresses.  If she were going to fit in and find friends around here she was going to have to change some things.  Even get rid of the help.  She knew how poor folk looked at people like she and Thomas.  Until the brewery took off, she had been one of those people.

“Oh my darling, that’s not necessary.  I’m sure any old furnishings will be fine.  You know I don’t need anything special.”

“But you are special and I want to give you the world, Emma.  And besides that, I’ve had a bit of luck at the tables.”  He patted the breast of his jacket.

“Oh, Thomas, don’t tell me you’ve been in one of those vulgar establishments.” 

He stopped walking and held her at arm’s length.  She could sink into his chocolate brown eyes full of love and passion and not surface for days.  He was about to say something more when a man yelled his name and Thomas turned at the sound of it.  Emma was going to have to get used to the rough culture in Primrose.  She instantly recoiled from the vision of anger and grit standing not ten feet from them.  This cowboy was in dire need of a bath and a shave.  And the jangling he made when he moved gave her a chill.

She opened her mouth to give him the set down he deserved  when a glint of silver blinded her momentarily and then a blast rang out over the street.  Smoke billowed up and she felt Thomas clutch at her dress and nearly drag her down as he fell backwards.  Screams and pounding feet split the air.  The acrid smell of gunpowder and tinge of blood filled her nostrils as she followed Thomas to the ground.

She didn’t remember screaming but her throat was hoarse.  She couldn’t remember getting to this enormous house or changing her dress.  Who had made the tea in her cup?  And why was the young man with the black bag trying to put something in it?  However, she did remember Thomas’ blood spattered face and fading eyes, she remembered the voice of the man who shot him yelling about being swindled and spewing profanities her delicate ears had never been exposed to.  Then another shot cracked and a badge was flashed proclaiming his authority. 

The doctor, this young man with the brown bottle, rushed to her husband and told her he was sorry.  Sorry.  What a silly thing to say to a woman clutching her dead husband.  He hadn’t pulled the trigger, he hadn’t played cards and with a bad man he likely cheated.  The doctor wasn’t the one who had sold everything they owned and forced his wife to move to a wild land full of murderers.