Chapter 16 - Everett Hollis Takes the Train to Helena
Helena overwhelmed Marabel.
Willow Creek had two streets people considered important.
Helena seemed to have fifty.
Carriages.
Hotels.
Shops.
Government offices.
Women walking alone with folders beneath their arms.
Men in dark suits rushing between buildings.
Marabel stared from the station platform.
Everett noticed.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
“You look ready to fight the city.”
“I’m deciding whether it deserves it.”
He smiled.
They stayed at a modest hotel.
Separate rooms.
Their delayed wedding remained a sore point Everett pretended did not bother him.
It bothered him enormously.
“I had flowers,” he complained over supper.
Marabel grinned.
“You denied ordering flowers.”
“I lied.”
“I knew.”
“Thirty dollars.”
She nearly dropped her fork.
“Thirty?”
“I panicked.”
“About flowers?”
“I don’t understand them.”
“So you spent thirty dollars?”
“The woman was persuasive.”
Marabel laughed.
“You faced Cyrus Marsh calmly and were defeated by a florist.”
“Yes.”
That laughter carried them through the next morning.
Then came the hearing.
Cyrus’s attorney attacked Marabel’s credibility directly.
She had financial incentive.
She was romantically involved with Everett.
She had negotiated increased wages.
She was expecting marriage.
Perhaps she manipulated records to increase Hollis property value.
Marabel sat through every accusation.
Her hands remained still.
Inside, she burned.
When called, she swore the oath.
The attorney approached.
“Miss Dawson, you were impoverished when Mr. Hollis hired you?”
“Yes.”
“You had four dollars?”
“Yes.”
“No property?”
“No.”
“No family support?”
“No.”
“And now you are engaged to a wealthy landowner.”
Marabel looked at Everett.
Then back.
“I am engaged to Everett Hollis.”
“That was not my question.”
“It was the relevant answer.”
The investigator overseeing proceedings hid a smile.
The attorney continued.
“You benefited financially from discovering the boundary discrepancy.”
“No.”
“You negotiated ten percent of recoveries.”
“After the original survey issue was discovered.”
“Convenient.”
“Accurate.”
He held Catherine’s ledger.
“How do we know you did not add entries?”
Marabel’s stomach turned.
Daniel Winter stood.
“Handwriting expert report already established ink and script consistency.”
The attorney ignored him.
“Miss Dawson?”
“Because I did not.”
“You expect us to accept your word?”
“No.”
Marabel leaned slightly forward.
“I expect you to accept evidence.”
Silence.
She continued.
“The paper predates my presence in Montana. The ink matches Catherine Hollis’s other entries. Mrs. Lowe independently recalled the altered map. Jonathan Marsh’s private ledger references the change. Cyrus Marsh responded in writing to Catherine’s questions six years ago.”
Her voice remained calm.
“If all of that depends on believing I forged a dead woman’s handwriting before I knew she existed, then I must be far more talented than anyone in Willow Creek assumed.”
Someone laughed.
The attorney’s face reddened.
Everett looked unbearably proud.
The attack failed.
More importantly, investigators revealed something new.
Samuel Pike had finally come forward.
He had been threatened.
Not physically.
Financially.
A man representing Marsh interests told him an old debt belonging to his son would be pursued if Samuel testified.
Samuel produced the letter.
Cyrus denied authorizing it.
But the man who delivered the warning worked for the bank.
The case expanded again.
By evening, investigators announced recommendations for criminal review of document tampering, coercion, and fraudulent property practices.
Cyrus’s reputation collapsed.
Marabel felt no joy.
Only exhaustion.
Outside the government building, Everett asked, “Satisfied?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Too many people lost too much.”
He nodded.
“You still helped.”
“So did Catherine.”
Everett smiled.
“Yes.”
They remained in Helena three additional days.
On the second, Marabel visited Mrs. Winter.
The Women’s House was elegant but practical.
Twelve young women lived there.
Teachers.
Seamstresses.
Telegraph operators.
A nurse.
Mrs. Winter greeted Marabel warmly.
“So you’re the woman who rejected nine dollars a week.”
Marabel smiled.
“I apologize.”
“Don’t.”
Mrs. Winter looked at Everett.
“This him?”
Everett blinked.
Marabel laughed.
“Yes.”
Mrs. Winter studied him.
“You better be worth it.”
Everett replied, “I ask myself daily.”
Marabel nearly choked.
Mrs. Winter loved him immediately.
Before leaving, she offered Marabel something unexpected.
“We need outside financial oversight twice annually.”
Marabel’s eyebrows rose.
“Paid?”
“Very.”
Everett groaned.
Mrs. Winter laughed.
Marabel accepted.
On their final night in Helena, Everett took Marabel to dinner.
Then walked with her through a quiet street.
“You could live here.”
Marabel looked around.
“Yes.”
“Would you want to?”
She thought carefully.
“Sometimes.”
Everett’s chest tightened.
Marabel noticed.
“Not instead of the ranch.”
He exhaled.
“You’re terrible.”
“You need practice.”
“With what?”
“Knowing I can want more than one thing.”
She took his hand.
“I can love the ranch and still like Helena.”
“Yes.”
“I can love you and still leave for work.”
“Yes.”
“I can be your wife and remain myself.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“You’re learning quickly.”
Everett stopped beneath a streetlamp.
“I want you to remain yourself.”
His voice became serious.
“That’s who I fell in love with.”
Marabel looked at him.
Six months earlier, seven businesses had looked at her and seen limitations.
This man looked at her and saw a whole life expanding.
She kissed him.
The next morning they boarded the train west.
Well before reaching Willow Creek, Everett became strangely quiet.
Marabel noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re sweating.”
“The train is warm.”
“It’s March.”
Everett refused to explain.
When they arrived in Willow Creek, half the town stood on the platform.
Marabel stared.
“What happened?”
Thomas stepped forward wearing a suit.
“Welcome home.”
Then Reverend Paulson appeared.
Then Henry.
Hadley.
The Millers.
Eli.
Mrs. Lowe.
Marabel looked at Everett.
His face had turned red.
“What did you do?”
He cleared his throat.
“We already delayed once.”
Her mouth fell open.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“If you still want to.”
Marabel began laughing.
Then crying.
“You brought my dress?”
“Mrs. Miller did.”
“The flowers?”
Everett looked proud.
“Saved.”
“All thirty dollars?”
“Every ridiculous one.”
Marabel hit his arm.
The crowd laughed.
Everett took both her hands.
“No pressure.”
His voice was quiet enough only she heard.
“If you want tomorrow, we do tomorrow.”
Marabel looked around.
At a town that once rejected her.
At people who had changed.
At people still learning.
At her brother.
At Catherine’s friends.
At the man who opened a gate because he believed no worker should begin hungry.
“Today,” Marabel whispered.
Everett smiled.
“Today.”
And two hours later, beneath an arch made from pine, spring flowers, and far too much expensive ribbon, Marabel Dawson walked toward Everett Hollis.
May you like
Not because she needed rescuing.
Because she had chosen him.
