A Moment in Time by Deb Stover Page A

grandparents could give him that in St. Louis.   All Cole had to do was put his tail between his legs and slink on back there.
           Gnashing his teeth, he shifted his gaze to the well-worn trail leading from the back of the cabin, up the side of the mountain.  
           His claim.   All their dreams rested in that hole.   "Fool."   Shaking his head, he nudged the mare with his heels, and she cantered eagerly to the log shelter that served as a stable, not far from the cabin.
           He'd been offered an alternative.   It was there for the taking.   All Cole had to do was agree to the dirty job, and he'd receive enough pay–gold!–to live his and Elizabeth's dream.   If he didn't take it, the only way to keep his promise to Elizabeth would be to return to St. Louis with his pride in shreds.
           Or he could do this one job and take his son to Oregon for the life he and Elizabeth had planned.
           Choice, Morrison?   He swallowed hard and dismounted, releasing the cinch and sliding the saddle off the mare's back.   With a grunt, he swung the saddle onto a rail, then led the horse to the trough.   She wasn't overheated, so he let her drink her fill while he poured her ration of oats into the feed box.
           Merriweather had offered him his and Elizabeth's dream in a not-so-neat little package.   Cole never should've trusted that traveling preacher enough to unburden his troubles.   Things ate at a man, and Cole had reached his limit about the time that preacher came along.   Next thing Cole knew, he'd told the kind-faced man everything.
           Including his own failures.
           The old fart had spilled Cole's desperation at the next watering hole, and Merriweather had been listening.   Cole had to hand it to old Merriweather.   He sure as hell knew how to pull a man's strings.
           Cole released a long sigh.   The money from that job was more than he could refuse, and it wasn't as if actual harm would come to anyone because of it.   Still, the mere thought of it made his gut burn.   If only he hadn't–
           "Pa."
           Cole turned around just in time to catch a flying nine-year-old body.   He gave his son a hug and allowed himself a moment to admire the boy's dark blond hair, so much like his mother's.   Though Elizabeth was gone from this world, a part of her lived on in their son.
           "I'm starved," Cole said, ruffling the boy's hair.   "What'd you cook?"   He flashed Todd a grin when the boy groaned.
           "Cookin's woman's work."   The boy looked down at his bare feet, then lifted his face to squint into the sun.  
           "That's a fact."   Cole walked slowly toward the cabin, knowing without looking that his son was at his side.   It was a fine feeling–a damned fine one.   "But I reckon it's a good thing for a man to know how to take care of himself, too."   He knew that all too well.
           "Yes, sir."   Todd gave a sigh much larger than his size.   "I sure get sick of it, though."
           "Nah, you just get sick of my cooking."  
           They both laughed as Cole opened the door and stepped into the cabin's dim interior.   His laughter stilled as his gaze focused on the ladder that led to the loft.   In his mind's eye, he mentally followed each rung to the top, remembering Elizabeth's last night on this earth with him...and his wretched promise.   The lump in his throat seemed unbearable as he struggled against it, suddenly thankful for the dim interior.
           Todd slipped past him, dragging Cole's attention from the ladder...and from the past.   The boy grabbed something off the mantel and hurried back.  
           "I almost forgot," Todd said, holding a folded piece of paper in his outstretched hand.   "A man brought this while you was in town."
           Cole hated the thought of anyone coming to the cabin while Todd was here alone.