El Paso
It was late in the afternoon when Alan stepped down from the seat on the freight wagon with a sigh and a prayer of thanksgiving for journey's end. If he had known how long it took to travel from Boston to El Paso, he would not have expected Ella to take herself to Boston as soon as she heard from him. He had assumed that it would take much less than a week to get to El Paso, since it only took four days to get all the way to Sacramento on the Transcontinental Express, and Texas was only halfway to California. One trouble was that he was travelling with their household goods, and the set of doctor's office furniture and equipment he had bought from an acquaintance who was retiring. The excess baggage charges on the passenger lines were so high that his budget required him to travel on slower freight trains.
After the first day's travel, he packed up the nice linen suit and wore the overalls he used when helping out at his brother's farm. There were a few nights in hotels along the line, while waiting for the next train going in the right direction. The rest of his sleeping had been done in a corner of the car carrying his belongings. He had finished checking the proofs for the last lectures and mailed them back from the first overnight stop. After that, his daylight travel time was spent re-reading Ella's letters, reading the newspapers he bought at each stop and watching the landscape go by. General Custer's disaster was still big news, but General Crook hadn't been mentioned in any of the stories about it, so he could still hope that Ella was safe.
Once he had arranged for his goods to be stored in the freight depot for a couple weeks, he took carpetbag containing clean clothes in one hand and Gladstone bag in the other, and followed directions to the Ace of Hearts. He had a letter of introduction to Rabbi Jacob Cohen, but he wanted a bath and fresh clothes before he presented himself there. Based on Ella's letters, he hoped he didn't look too disreputable to get a room at the Ace, and he wanted to talk to Mrs. Ross to find out when the posse was expected home.
Hank looked up as the swinging doors opened and the man peeked in. Judging from the way he looked, he’d been on the trail for a piece. He was dressed in overalls but didn’t look like any farmer Hank had seen. The city hat and city gloves looked strange with the overalls. Gamblers and gunfighters took that kind of care of their hands. 'Course he didn’t look like a gunfighter, but it wouldn’t be the first time trouble tried to disguise itself.
That man behind the bar had to be Hank. Alan smelled a good stew cooking, and was suddenly aware of being famished. Alan left his hat on the rack, then went to the bar and asked, "Could I get a beer and a bowl of stew, please?” while he pulled off the gloves.
“Comin’ right up,” Hank replied. He would have to be deaf to miss that Eastern accent. Hank noticed that his hands showed no calluses from working a field, or any kind of work. Maybe not a gunfighter or gambler, maybe one of those newspaper people that came sniffing around every now and then trying to find dirt to write about, he thought.
“You must be Hank,” Alan said.
Hank raised an eyebrow in question. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Alan so he quickly continued. “My wife wrote to me about you. I'm Doctor Alan Coatsworth."
"You don't look smart enough to fit the tales Miz Ella used to tell about her husband."
Alan was reassured and pleased at the idea that Ella had bragged about him, but wondered and asked, "Used to tell? Doesn't she tell tales about me any more?"
"She's been quiet about you since you didn't come last year. Folks were starting to act like they thought you were imaginary, after they had been looking forward to having a new doctor out here. 'Course there are a fair number of men wishing Miz Ella was single. She's a fine woman."
Alan felt rebuked, and knew there was justice to it, but thought the conversation was heading into uncomfortable territory, so he changed the subject, "Could I get a few words with Mrs. Ross, please?"
Hank put the beer on the bar. He knew Ella was concerned about her marriage, maybe people coming around to see if they could find out improper behavior to report.
“Mr. Coatsworth, before I let you have a few words with Mrs. Ross, I’d like to be sure you are who you say you are and not someone that has come here to try to start some kind of trouble.”
It was Alan’s turn to raise an eyebrow in question.
“Nobody in here takes too kindly to someone coming in here claiming to be someone they ain’t just to get information they like to twist around to sell to some newspaper for their own profit at the cost of my friends. Miz Ella and Mrs. Ross are good friends of mine. So if you don’t mind, prove to me you are who you say you are.”
Rebecca had noticed the man come in and take a seat. She could be in another room and still somehow know when someone came into the Ace. She could either tell you who it was or tell you it was a stranger in town. She figured it came from running with Scarlet for too long, but it did come in handy. From where she was, she could tell Hank was sniffing the stranger out for trouble. The stranger must have started asking questions to raise the hackles on Hank’s neck.
Becca took the bowl from the girl that was coming from the kitchen with a smile and took it to the man sitting at the bar. It would get her close enough to listen to what was going on. She set down the bowl in time to hear Hank tell the stranger that she and Ella were friends of his and to prove who he was. She made no move to identify herself. She trusted Hank, it was his job to keep them safe and he did it well.
Alan told himself that he should have been prepared for Hank's request. Ella's letters had mentioned how much he protected everyone associated with the Ace. Alan lifted the Gladstone bag up onto the counter and opened it. He took out a card case and extracted a calling card engraved "Dr. Alan Coatsworth", which he handed to Hank. He tried to think how else to identify himself, and handed Hank the letter of introduction as well. Then he turned his attention to the woman who had delivered the stew. Her appearance matched Ella's description and the sketch Ella had included in one of her letters to Mrs. Erdbeer. He rose and tipped his hat as he handed her another of the calling cards.
"Mrs. Ross, I presume?" he asked. "The only information I'm after is whether my wife is well and when she will be back. The last letter that came to Boston said the Army was leaving the fort. That was at the end of May. Mrs. Ross, have you heard from the posse?" pleaded Alan. He hoped her appearance of calm meant she had heard from her husband recently, and not that she was skilled at concealing her emotions or that he had been mistaken and she wasn't Mrs. Ross.
"Ella sent a wire when they got back to Fort Fetterman week before last. She wired from Cheyenne yesterday. They'll be here in five days."
"Thank you," he whispered, almost collapsing in relief. He bent his head and murmured a brief prayer.
Becca watched his reaction. Her instincts and experience with people told her this man still cared for his wife, she wasn’t sure exactly on what level, but he still cared. The reaction didn’t necessarily mean he’d come to stay but he did seem to care. She looked over at Hank. She’d lived with him long enough to know the skeptical look that only the ones that knew him well would see. That was ok, one had to earn Hank’s trust: it was who he was. Becca trusted him to be cordial since Alan had answered all his questions, but she knew if Alan asked him questions, he would only get general knowledge.
"Watch the bar for a minute, Darlin'," Hank said, then disappeared into the kitchen. Becca watched him, she knew exactly what he was up to, it was a good idea she thought. She turned her attention back to Alan.
"There is a room upstairs you’re welcome to. If you like, tomorrow I will take you out to the Starr or you are welcome to stay here until Ella returns."
"Thank you for the room. I was hoping to stay here for two nights at least. I would like to go out to the Starr, but maybe the day after tomorrow? I've got business enough in town to fill tomorrow. I want to meet the rabbi here, and talk to the bank to start the process of transferring Ella's inheritance account. Ella had told me about some houses she had looked at that might suit us for our home and office. I don't know if any of those would still be available, but I do want to see if I can identify some candidates for Ella to choose between when she gets back."
Becca smiled, thinking Alan's plan sounded romantic. "If you need somebody to show you around, I would be happy to do it, Dr. Coatsworth. That is, unless you would rather have a more appropriate escort. I can think of a couple of gentlemen that have better standing with some of the townspeople than I."
"I think you would be an appropriate escort. My wife told me she stood up with you at your wedding to Marshal Ross. I am not going to look down on any of her friends. Townspeople who might decline to see a doctor because he is unwilling to cooperate with their prejudices are not people I would want as patients, anyway."
"Ella has been a very good friend to all of us. I was very happy she stood up with me at our wedding." Becca paused, hoping the fact Alan wanted to look at houses meant they would be staying in El Paso for a long time. "Just let me know when you'd like me to go with you. When you're done with your supper, I will show you to your room."
"I'd like to look at houses tomorrow afternoon, after I talk to the rabbi and to the bank. Thank you," replied Alan, sitting again and turning his attention to the stew and the beer.