Sweetwater – Nebraska Territory – 1853:
The early morning sun began to fill the small room. It filtered itself through the flimsy drapes that fluttered in the slight spring breeze as if afraid to disturb the room’s lone occupant. It had no reason to worry; the man had been sitting, staring out the window, waiting for the sun to arrive. He didn’t dare go back to sleep; that would allow the dreams – no nightmares – to return. The dreams always started in happier times. They started back before he had come to this god-forsaken place, before the filthy savages had stolen all that was good in his life, before he was alone with only his pride and a struggling business to keep him going.
He groaned and stood. He crossed the room and sat heavily on the bed, and picked up the photograph of his wife and daughter. “I’m sorry, Sally,” he whispered. “I miss you and Jenny so much. I wish they’d gotten me instead, then I . . .” He shook his head to clear away the depressing thoughts that were trying to force their way in. He placed the picture back on the nightstand and started to get ready to face another day – alone.
Once he was dressed, William Tompkins left his one room home above his store and went downstairs to his place of business. He quickly started up a pot of coffee and looked around the shop. As he went toward the front door, he noticed that some of the fruit was once again on the floor. He did a quick scan of the room and found one of the back windows open. He crossed to it and was glad to find it wasn’t broken. Closing it he made a mental note to be sure and check that all of the windows were not only closed, but also locked securely when he closed up. He couldn’t afford to keep losing merchandise every night. From what was being taken he figured it was the local children, but still, he needed to stop it now.
He went to go get some breakfast and report this latest break-in to the marshal. He didn’t like constantly complaining, but the young man didn’t seem to take these crimes seriously. Tompkins decided that if he kept nagging eventually the marshal would work at stopping the kids just to keep from having to see him everyday. He sighed as he crossed the street to the hotel and a plateful of eggs.
By the time he finished breakfast, had a visit with the marshal and returned to the store, others were up and about. The town of Sweetwater was starting to wake up. William Tompkins opened the doors to his store and moved an apple barrel to keep one propped open. This allowed the pleasant spring breeze to fill and freshen the room. He put on his apron and went about tidying up the shelves while he waited for customers. He didn’t have to wait long before people started dropping by.
He settled a bill with a young family who had just moved to the area when he noticed a boy by the apple barrel. Tompkins began to circulate through the store, lending a hand to the other customers, always keeping the lad in sight. As the petite nun who had been stopping by each morning for a cup of coffee and a visit with him entered the store, the boy picked up an apple and glanced nervously around the room.
Instantly, Tompkins had him by the collar. “I finally caught you, you no good thief,” he bellowed. The boy stared at him – eyes wide. The other people in the store all stopped browsing and stared at the pair. Tompkins gave the boy a shake and demanded, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Is it just you, or are there others about? Come on Boy, speak up!” He gave the boy another shake and started out the door.
Sister Catherine made her way to the pair, “Excuse me, I’m not sure . . .”
“I don’t care what you say, Sister, he’s guilty as the day is long,” the shopkeeper interrupted as he brushed past her. He was so angry with the boy in question that he just stormed out of his store towards the marshal’s office unmindful of the customers he left behind.
Sister Catherine sighed. She noticed that some of the people were putting items back and preparing to leave. She decided to wait until the man returned before going to the marshal’s office herself, besides there were people here who needed assistance. Maybe if she helped his business the man would be willing to grant her a request.
“May I help you with that?” she asked a young couple who was beginning to replace supplies on the shelf. She led them towards the back counter, picked up a scratch pad and pencil, and started figuring. After a few minutes, the other customers realized that she was going to be working the counter and they all brought their items up to purchase. She took their names, made a list of what they bought, and then wrote the total amount that she charged them. “That way if something is wrong, it can be corrected later,” she explained. The people were most grateful and all left with a smile.
When the owner returned from lodging his complaint against the boy, he found the store empty except for the small nun who had protested when he grabbed the dirty little thief earlier. She was behind his counter, and it looked like she was counting money – HIS money. “Why the nerve of her,” he thought as he stormed across the store.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she greeted him by handing him the money, “but I waited on your customers while you were otherwise engaged. I saw no reason for you to lose business while you were out. I realize that you are just starting your business here and would hate for people to get the wrong idea.” She smiled her most winning smile and continued, “I hope I charged the correct price for everything. I wrote down names, purchases, and totals.” She handed him the scratch pad and waited for his response.
The bluster that had filled him as he crossed the room slowly faded as he took in this information. It was true that he’d only had the store here for about a month and it was just beginning to start showing promise. If he could make it work, maybe the loneliness caused by losing his family would fade. Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive himself for dragging them across the country on a whim.
He sighed. He would have to be more careful about not leaving the store unattended, but he had really felt the need to get that thief to the marshal. He needed to make an example since he’d caught one of the thieves that had been bothering him since he opened. “Thank you,” he said returning the smile.
Seeing he had calmed down, Sister Catherine ventured on. “As you know, I was just visiting my brother and his family before returning to the mission outside White Falls for a new school year. I would like to take the young man you caught today back with me, unless the marshal is able to locate his family here. In that case, he should be turned over to them. I don’t remember seeing him around before, and I’ve been visiting with the local children some.”
“But he was trying to steal. . .”
“He picked up an apple,” Sister Catherine politely interrupted. “He didn’t put it in his pocket, hide it under his hat, or attempt to eat it. He simply picked it up, and you grabbed him, William.”
Tompkins defended himself and his actions, “He didn’t tell me he planned on paying for it. The entire time I was escorting him to the marshal’s he never said a word, just kept kicking and struggling to get away. He wouldn’t even tell the marshal his name, just stared at him.”
He paused. It had been strange the way the boy hadn’t made a sound, but he couldn’t let pity get in the way. He needed to make this store work, he had no where else to go. There was no way he was returning to his old home; it would be too empty without his family. “I can’t let him just get away with it. The kids around here have been stealing me blind.”
“I’m sure he was too frightened to say anything,” the petite nun replied. “I wasn’t even the person you were angry with and it took me a few seconds to muster enough courage to address you.” She sighed. “Let me take him to the mission school if we can’t locate his parents. You can still bring him before the judge. I’ll bring him back to stand trial if that’s what you really want, or I could just pay you for the apple,” she smiled up at the man who towered over her.
“Why would you want to do that?” Tompkins asked as he considered her request.
“It’s my job,” she replied with an even bigger smile. She could sense the man was softening.
“Alright. I’ll go with you to the marshal to let him know that I’ve reconsidered pressing charges on the grounds that the boy goes with you if we can’t locate his family. You don’t have to worry about bringing him back or paying for the apple. You saved me a lot of money by helping out while I was gone,” he said quietly. It was slow dawning on him how ridiculous he must have appeared to this woman. He greatly admired her ability to stay calm.
Sister Catherine nodded. “Thank you,” she said.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring him back, at least not before he gets cleaned up and learns some better manners.”
“Agreed,” Sister Catherine said. “We rarely travel this far to do our shopping. He’d only come back here if we locate his family. If we can’t, I’ll be sure to keep you informed as to how he is doing. That way you will know for certain that this was the right thing to do.”
Sweetwater - 1860
“You alright, Bill?” asked Doc Burke. “You look like you seen a ghost.”
Bill Tompkins pulled his attention away from the group of young men who had just entered his store. Their laughing and horsing around had caused him to look at them more closely than he’d planned. One of them had taken him by surprise. He’d known some people were moving into town to work for this new Pony Express mail service, but he’d never expected one of them to be someone he’d sort of met before. Sister Catherine had kept her promise to keep him apprised of the boy’s progress until a few months ago when he’d left the school. Now he was here - someone who could drag up painful old memories. Just when he was starting to get used to not having them around, here was someone who could make the pain all come back because he would make the memories of seven years ago fresh.
He looked at Doc Burke. “I’m fine. Just wish people could learn how to be more respectful when they entered a place of business.” As he watched them, he decided that it was good they were misfits in society. That would make it easier to not like them, and he had to make sure to keep his distance from this bunch. If he didn’t, he’d start remembering or worse yet get attached and that would only cause pain. He was finally used to being alone, but that was because he’d finally quit thinking about them all the time. He’d almost convinced himself his family never existed – that he’d always been on his own. Alone.
Disclaimer: Ed Spielman created the characters of The Young Riders for television. The series aired on ABC TELEVISION from 1989 - 1992. Thanks to everyone who helped by being a beta. I couldn’t have done this without you.
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