“You’re insane,” Sully whispered out of the tempest of emotions whirling within him.

     “Am I?” said his nemesis.

     “Yeah—if you actually believe somethin’ so crazy.”  He tried to keep his expression neutral, but his voice sounded ragged to his ears.  His hands were trembling and cold beads of sweat had blossomed on his forehead.

     “Real high and mighty, ain’t ya?  Guess yer memory ain’t so good as ya claim.”

     “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

     “Now who’s hidin’ from the truth?”

     “What truth?” Sully burst out.  “You ain’t makin’ no sense!”

     “Yeah I am.  Ya just can’t see it . . . or ya won’t.”

    Sully’s gut clenched.  More than anything in the world he didn’t want to pursue this.  But the torment of his imagination was even worse.  Regardless of how ominous the implications, he had to know what was really behind Hank’s accusation.

     “You been droppin’ hints—insinuatin’ things—since we started this trip,” he said with a boldness he didn’t feel.  “Time to quit beatin’ around the bush and come out with it.”  There was a deadly pause.

     “Ya want me to refresh yer memory?”

     “I wanna know how you could come up with such a ridiculous notion.”

     “Ain’t ridiculous.  It’s the truth.”

     “You actually think . . .”  For a moment Sully’s voice failed him and he had to clear his throat and start again.  “You truly believe . . . that Clarice and me . . . and that Zack is the result . . .”

     “Only one way I know of.”

     “I don’t know where you ever got an idea like—“

     “Well, now, maybe yer right,” Hank cut him off, smiling thinly.  “Maybe I’m mistaken.  After all, it’s been a long time.  And an upright citizen like you wouldn’t be caught dead drinkin’ in a saloon, or bein’ entertained by a ‘workin’ girl’—right?

    “Funny thing, though,” he went on, his expression coldly triumphant.  “I coulda swore there was a time when you was one o’ my best customers.”

     Hank’s voice dimmed in Sully’s ears, and his surroundings faded away as the past rushed back to claim him . . .

     It was just a tent; bigger than most in the camp, but still ordinary, with nothing special to recommend it apart from what it offered inside.  He must have passed it a score of times on his way to or from his shifts, without being tempted to enter.  Oh, certainly he’d spent time there—and even consumed his share of drinks.  But he’d never felt a need to seek oblivion within.  Never, that is, until tonight . . .

     Coal oil lamps bracketed the entrance, a bright but unnecessary advertisement.  Canvas flaps folded back and lashed to sturdy tent pegs sunk into the ground allowed considerable light from inside to spill out, along with strains of music from a piano slightly out of tune, and the raucous sounds of talking and laughter.  A blind man could have found his way there with no effort whatsoever.

     He’d heard a rumor that the proprietor had purchased a property in town, and would shortly be moving his “establishment” to more solid and permanent quarters.  But until that day arrived, this was the only option for anyone with a taste for something stronger than sarsaparilla, or a more specialized brand of entertainment.

     As he neared the entrance he could see a portion of the bar, with men two, even three deep clustered along its length.  Several tables were scattered throughout the interior, filling up the available space.   Most of them were occupied, though one or two remained empty.  A handful of women with liberally painted faces and plunging necklines displaying their considerable assets, made their way through the narrow aisles between tables, flirting with the customers and taking orders.  Most were quite attractive, if you looked beyond the pink cheeks and lip rouge.  But none had the power to move him, because none of them could hold a candle to . . .  He felt tears prick behind his eyes, and he blinked rapidly.

     He stood on the threshold and debated with himself.  Tonight of all nights he was in no mood for socializing—but the prospect of lying on his cot, unable to sleep and alone with his thoughts, was even worse.  Just a drink or two, to numb the hurt and help him forget for a little while . . .  What was the harm?  And who was there to care, anyway . . .?  Not her.  Not any more.

     He stepped inside.

     “Sully!” a voice hailed him from somewhere to his left.  Damn, spotted already—when he’d been hoping that just this once, he could drink alone in peace.  But there was no help for it—he’d recognized the voice, and he could hardly snub his oldest friend.

     Daniel stood up from a table where he sat with three other men and waved him over.  Sully worked his way across the crowded interior, stumbling once as a drunken miner he didn’t recognize staggered into him and then blundered on, oblivious.  He finally reached the table and nodded to the familiar faces of Daniel’s companions as his friend clapped him on the back.

     “Why didn’t you tell me you were comin’ tonight?” Daniel asked him.  “I woulda waited for you.”

     Sully shrugged.  “I didn’t plan it.  I was just . . .  passin’ by, and decided to stop in for a drink.”

     “Well, glad you did!” Daniel said genially.  “Sit down!  Flora!” he called to one of the women.  “Come over and set up my friend here!”

     Sully drew Daniel aside.  “Thanks,” he said under cover of the music, “but if it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon—“

     “What can I do for ya?” Flora inquired, suddenly appearing by his side.  Her ample bosom pressed against him.  “You want a drink, or would you rather—“  She gave him a  suggestive smile.

     “No!” Sully blurted out before he thought and Flora recoiled from him.  “Sorry,” he added quickly.  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  The offer is—real temptin’—but . . . just whiskey’ll be fine.  Make it a double.”

     “Whatever you say,” she responded, mollified.  Her smile flashed again as she eyed him appraisingly.  “Pity, though.  Yer one fine figure of a man.  You sure you don’t want some . . . company?”  She slid her hand across his chest.  “I could make it real sweet . . .”

     Sully managed an apologetic smile, but then his hand covered hers and gently removed it.  “Thanks, but like I
said . . .”

     “All right, Honey, if yer sure,” she gave in.  Instead she turned the force of her charm on the others at the table, who responded predictably.  She took their orders for another round and started to move toward the bar.

     “Flora!” Sully called after her on impulse.  She turned expectantly, clearly hopeful that he’d changed his mind.  “Bring me a bottle.”  At his words her face fell, but then she nodded and disappeared into the crush of miners.

     Sully turned to find Daniel regarding him quizzically.  “You all right?” his friend asked.

     “Well, to tell you the truth . . .”

    Daniel peered at him more closely and then his eyes searched the crowd until he spotted Flora by the bar.  “Flora!  Bring our drinks back there!” he requested, gesturing toward an empty table in the rear.  “’Scuse us, Fellas,” he said briefly to his tablemates, then he took Sully’s arm and guided him to the relative privacy at the back of the tent.

     They sat down and Daniel leaned toward him, resting his arms on the table’s scarred surface.  “You don’t look so good.  What’s wrong?”

     Sully was silent.  Absently his finger traced a ring left by the glass of some former patron.  Finally he raised his head, but before he could answer a tall shadow fell across the table.  Sully looked up to see the owner of the saloon looming over them, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and two glasses in the other.  His hair, long and blonde-streaked, curled on his shoulders, and his jaw bore the grizzled evidence of several days growth of beard.

     “Flora’s busy,” he announced bluntly by way of explanation.  He plunked down the bottle, then set a glass in front of each of them.  “Anythin’ else?”

     “Yeah,” Sully answered.  “You better bring another bottle for my friend.  I intend to polish this one off myself.”   He pullled a bill and some coins from his pocket and tossed them on the table, trying not to notice Daniel’s pointed stare of curiosity.

     The barkeep’s hand darted out and seized the money, which promptly disappeared inside his vest.  “Comin’ up.”  He lingered a moment.  “Ya want anythin’ to go along with that?  Got some pickled eggs behind the bar.”

     Sully shook his head.  “No thanks.”

     “Suit yerself,” the bar owner replied, and left them alone.

     “What’s troublin’ you, Sully?” Daniel asked again when the bartender was out of earshot.  “You ain’t never been that much of a drinker.”

     “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

     Daniel raised an eyebrow.  “I’ve known you since we was kids.”

     “That still don’t mean you know all that’s  goin’ on inside me.”

     “Maybe not—but damn close.  Ain’t we always told each other everythin’?”

     “Yeah,” Sully admitted.

     “So?”

     Sully reached for the bottle, poured himself a shot and tossed it back.  He refilled his glass, and shoved the bottle toward Daniel.  His friend poured an inch into his own glass, studying Sully all the while.

     “C’mon, Sully.  Talk to me.  Ain’t nothin’ you can’t say to me—you know that.”

     “I know.”

     “If you’re worried ‘bout it goin’ any further—“

     “No, that ain’t it,” Sully told him.  “I know I can trust you.  It’s just . . . it ain’t easy to talk about.”

     “Take your time,” Daniel said.  “I ain’t rushin’ you.  But when somethin’s eatin’ at you, it usually helps to get it off your chest.”

     “’Spose you’re right.”  He sighed and drained his glass again.  He could feel the whiskey starting to take hold, blurring the sharp edges of the pain inside.  He poured himself another measure.

     “Looks like I got back just in time,” said a familiar voice, and they looked up to see the saloon owner at their side again.  He set another bottle down on the table.

     “You read my mind."  Sully drew out the remainder of his money and handed it to the proprietor.  “Keep it comin’.”

     “Sully—let me,” Daniel protested, digging into his own pocket.

     But Sully waved him off.  “Save it.  This is my party.”

     “But—“

     “I said I’m payin’,” he insisted, with an expression in his eyes that silenced Daniel’s objections.  He became aware that the saloon keeper was staring at him.  “Ain’t it enough?” he asked irritably.

     “Yeah,” the barkeep confirmed.  “And then some.  It’s just—I ain’t seen you in here much.”

     “Well you’ll most likely be seein’ a lot more of me,” Sully told him.  “You got a problem with that?”

     “Hell, no.  I wish all my customers were as willin’ to part with their money.”  He leaned closer.  “Anythin’ you want—whiskey, or, uh, anythin’ else—just ask.  Name’s Hank Lawson.”

     “I’ll remember that,” Sully answered.

     Hank straightened and winked at him.  “Enjoy your night, gents,” he said, then left to answer a summons from another table.

     “You ain’t really gonna take him up on that, are you?”

     Sully met Daniel’s eyes.  “I might.”

     “I don’t believe you.  You turned Flora down.”

     “She wasn’t my type,” Sully said lightly, floating in his whiskey-induced bubble.  “Don’t mean somebody else won’t come along who’s more to my likin’.”

     “That’s the liquor talkin’.  I know you.  You’d never cheat on Abagail.”

     Sully abandoned his glass and drank directly from the first bottle, finishing off the contents.  “Ain’t a problem,” he announced, the heat of the whiskey coursing through him.

     “What do you mean?”

     Sully gave him a bitter smile.  “What I mean . . . is I was engaged to be married—and now I ain’t.”

     “I don’t believe it!  Abagail loves you.”

     “Maybe.”

     “Ain’t no ‘maybes’ about it.  It’s clear as day.  Has been ever since the first time you two laid eyes on each other.
I know I didn’t accept it at first,” Daniel said, his face coloring.  “I was kinda . . . well, I was a little sweet on her too, and I wanted to believe I had a chance.  But I was just lyin’ to myself.  Once she saw you, she never looked at nobody else.”

    “That’s past history, Daniel.  We settled it—said we was gonna put it behind us.”

    “I know.  I’m just grateful that you didn’t hold it against me—“

    “No reason.  Once you saw how things were with us, you backed off.”

    “Still, I just wanted to say—well, I’m glad there ain’t no hard feelin’s.”

    “I appreciate that.  But what’s the point of bringin’ it up now?”

    “The point is, that the best man won!” Daniel slapped the table top for emphasis.  “Abagail loves you.  I knew it then, and I know it now.”

    “Maybe she does.  But not enough to go against her pa.”

    “Is Loren makin’ trouble again?”

    “He never stopped.”

    “Well, that ain’t exactly news,” Daniel pointed out.  “You knew from the start that Loren Bray didn’t want no miners courtin’ his daughter.  Abagail knew it too.  But it didn’t stop you from seein’ each other on the sly.”

     “Yeah, and I never felt right about it,” Sully told him.  “I wanted to court Abagail out in the open—have everythin’ be honest, and aboveboard.  But he made it impossible.”

    “That ain’t your fault,” Daniel argued.  “You tried to do it right—you went to Loren and asked his permission—“

    “And he said no.  I woulda left things like that . . . I didn’t wanna cause Abagail no more trouble.  But she begged me.  She said she couldn’t bear it if we couldn’t see each other.

    “I tried to be strong enough for both of us,” he claimed, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Daniel.  “I told her that maybe we should keep our distance for a while.  You know—give her pa some time to come
around . . .

    “But she said that could take a long time—maybe forever—and she didn’t wanna lose me,” he went on.  “And God help me, I was weak.  I couldn’t stand the thought of us bein’ apart anymore than she could.  So I agreed to keep our engagement a secret.”

    “And I know it’s been hard on you,” Daniel said sympathetically.  “But all that was months ago.  The way you’re talkin’ now . . . well it seems like somethin’s changed.”

    “I guess you could say that.”  His eyes were bleak.  “She’s marryin’ another man.”

    “That can’t be true!  Abagail would never throw you over for somebody else.”

    “Well it ain’t happened yet,” Sully admitted.  “But if Loren has his way, it will.”

    “Abagail ain’t listened to her pa so far.  What makes you think it’s gonna be any different now?”

    “’Cause he threatened to disown her if she don’t turn her back on me and marry this Martin Anderson fella.  And I think she’s gonna do it.”

    Daniel looked stunned.  “How could he turn against his own daughter like that?  I thought he loved her so much.”

    “That’s just it.  He thinks the sun rises and sets on her.  And he ain’t about to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to a man he thinks ain’t good enough—“

    “He’s crazy,” Daniel interrupted.  “He couldn’t ask for a finer son-in-law.”

    “That’s good of you, Daniel.  But I got no money, no prospects . . .”

    “You’re a good miner, and you got a steady income.”

    “Maybe—but what if the mine closes, or there’s a strike?  ’Sides, I ain’t gonna be a miner all my life, and I don’t got the book-learnin’ to be nothin’ else.”

    “Most of the men in this town never made it past grade school,” Daniel reminded him.  “But they still get along.  And I know you, Sully.  You’d always find a way to provide for Abagail, no matter what you had to do.”

    “Yeah, but just scrapin’ by ain’t good enough for Loren Bray’s daughter,” he said dully.  “Can’t say as I blame him.”

    “Well, I do!  Any man who’d try to ruin his daughter’s happiness like that . . .  His heart must be made of stone.”

    “Stone—or somethin’ else, like ambition.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I mean Loren’s got another reason to hate me, ‘sides my not bein’ good enough to marry his daughter.”

    “Such as?”

    “Loren had his own ideas about Abagail’s future.  He had it all planned for her to marry Martin Anderson, and then he was gonna bring Anderson into the store as his partner.  When Loren was ready to retire, Anderson would take over.  But the one thing he didn’t figure on was Abagail’s head bein’ turned by somebody else—and that she might wanna follow her heart.  I was the fly in the ointment.”

    “So you’re sayin’ that Abagail don’t have feelin’s for this other fella?”

    Sully shook his head.  “She don’t even like him much.”

    “Well, then what are you worried about?  If you know that Abagail loves you, and that she don’t want this other man—“

    “But sometimes love ain’t enough.  Not when the cost is too dear.  If Abagail marries me, she gives up everythin’.  Her family, her roots . . .  She says she hates her pa for what he’s doin’—for makin’ her choose between us.  But it’s tearin’ her up inside—I can see it.  And that ain’t the worst.”  He was quiet for several moments, then went on, “Abagail decided that it was time to tell her pa about us—that we’d been seein’ each other, courtin’ in secret . . . and that I’d proposed.  Part of me was scared about how Loren would react.   Not scared for myself, but for her.  But mostly, I was just relieved that the truth was finally gonna come out.  And I was proud . . . proud of her for standin’ up to her pa for my sake.

    “She was so full of courage,” he mused.  “I’d never seen such fire in her.  I don’t think Loren had either.  Fact is, I think he’d always seen her as some sort of puppet.  All he had to do was pull her strings, and she’d dance to any tune he played.  But now she was tryin’ to cut the strings altogether, and he couldn’t accept it.  The more she stood up to him, the angrier he got.  Finally, he used the only weapon he had left.  The one thing he knew would hurt her more than anythin’—that might even destroy her.”

    “Cuttin’ her out of his life.”

    “Yeah.  But I give her credit.  Somehow, even though she was dyin’ inside, she didn’t let on to Loren.  She walked out of that store with her head held high.  But after, when we were alone . . .”

    “What happened then?”

    “She was cryin’—sobbin’ like her heart would break.”  He looked on the verge of tears himself.  “It just about killed
me to see her so unhappy.  I tried to comfort her . . . to tell her that it would all work out . . . that everythin’ would be all
right . . .  But she said she was afraid that nothin’ would ever be right again.”

    “And then . . .”  He sighed heavily.  “And then she said that maybe I’d been right—‘bout us bein’ apart for a while.  She said she needed some time alone, to think things over.  I asked, how much time?  But she couldn’t say.  All she knew for sure was that for the time bein’, she couldn’t think about marryin’ anybody.”

    “Well, that don’t have to mean it’s over between you.  Just means she’s upset and confused right now.  After she has some time to see things more clear—“

    “And then she gave this back to me,” Sully went on, as if Daniel hadn’t spoken.  He dug in his pocket and withdrew a small object, placing it on the table between them.  Daniel’s heart plummeted as he looked at the simple ring of beaten silver gleaming in the lamplight.

    “I couldn’t afford a fancy engagement ring,” Sully explained.  “So I did the next best thing, and borrowed the use of Robert E.’s  forge to make this.”

    “It’s beautiful.”

    “It ain’t much.  But I put my heart into makin’ it.  Still, I told Abagail when I gave it to her that it was just temporary.  That someday, when I’d saved enough, I was gonna buy her a proper engagement ring.” His lips curved into a small, painful smile.  “But she said she didn’t care about no other ring.  That this was the one I’d given her and the one she wanted.  And that every time she looked at it, it would remind her of how we fell in love.  But when she gave it back—“  His voice choked over the words and he couldn’t finish.

    “Give her time, Sully,” Daniel advised.  “She’s dealin’ with a lotta hurt right now.  But her love for you will win out, in the end.  I know it.”

    Sully raised his head, his eyes stricken.  “But do I got the right to force her to make that choice?  To use her feelin’s for me to cut her off from her pa forever?  I claim to love her—but it’s a selfish love, if it causes her so much pain.  Maybe the way for me to prove I love her most, is to set her free.”

    “You ain’t responsible for how Loren feels,” Daniel said firmly.  “You ain’t the one causin’ Abagail’s pain—that’s all her pa’s doin’.”

“You’re a loyal friend, Daniel.  And I’m obliged to you for tryin’ to make me feel better.  But the fact is, just me bein’ a part of Abagail’s life is bringin’ her pain.  And . . . I can’t be the cause of hurtin’ her no more.”

    “What are you sayin’?  You ain’t givin’ up . . .?”

    Sully reached for the full bottle of whiskey and poured a double shot into his glass.  He swirled the contents with his finger, watching how the liquid refracted the light.  He almost seemed to have forgotten his friend’s presence.  But finally he raised his eyes.  “Thanks for takin’ the time to listen.  But if you don’t mind, I’d like to be by myself now.”

    “I don’t think that’s such a good idea—“

    “I’m all right,” Sully told him calmly.  “You don’t gotta sit here, holdin’ my hand.  I’ll be fine alone.”

    “But this is exactly the time when you shouldn’t be alone,” Daniel objected.  “Look, we don’t gotta talk, if you don’t want to.  But at least let me stay here with you, Sully.  Better still, let me take you home.”

    “Thanks.  But no.”  Sully pulled himself to his feet, then reached for the double shot of whiskey and downed it quickly.  Trading the empty glass for the nearly full bottle, he announced, “Think I’ll take a walk.  ‘Night, Daniel.”

    He took a couple of steps away from the table, feeling the worried eyes of his friend boring into his back.  But suddenly he stopped short, his gaze riveted on a spot at the end of the bar.  A slender woman with raven hair and vivacious dark eyes was deep in conversation with the tall, blonde bartender.  As Sully watched, she said something that made Lawson chuckle.  He bent his head and whispered in her ear, sliding his arm around her possessively.  The young woman drew her shawl closer about herself, but didn’t move out of his embrace.

    Sully abruptly turned away from the sight and stared at Daniel.  “Who is she?” he said.