Soaring Eagle (Prairie Winds Book 3)

by Whitson, Stephanie Grace

  Jim looked squarely into the kind face. “No, sir, I’m not running from the law.”

  “Where you headed?”

  Jim pondered the question before answering, “I don’t know, sir. Anywhere away from,” the voice lowered, “where I been.”

  “You far enough away from where you been to stop runnin’?”

  Jim considered the question before slowly nodding, “I guess so.”

  Joseph stood up and put his rifle back under the wagon seat. “Then climb on up here and we’ll get back to town. Miz’ Hathaway will fill you up with more than just biscuits, we’ll get you some decent clothes, and . . .”

  At the mention of “town,” Jim jumped up and stepped away from the wagon. “No!” he almost shouted. Then, embarrassed, he said more steadily, “No, sir, thank you, sir, but I’ve got no need to go to town. I—I just want to be left alone, sir.” He stammered and grabbed the side of the wagon to steady his shaking legs.

  Compassion filled Joseph’s voice. He used the soothing tone he had always used to quiet a nervous colt. “Now, settle down, son. Ain’t nobody hauling you to town against your will. You want to stay on your own, that’s all right. Every man needs time to hisself now and then. . . .” An idea came and Joseph spilled it out before having time really to consider it. “You was right about this place. Folks that worked it is all gone. Their son asked me to keep a watch over it. I been watchin’ it for two years now. The son didn’t want it. He’s gone now, too, God rest his soul. His widow don’t care what happens to the place. So it just sits here, like this, falling apart.” Joseph sighed. “An’ it’s a real shame too. It could be a fine place.”

  As Joseph talked, Jim stopped trembling. Joseph talked until the boy was visibly calm before he said, “I like the way you cleaned up the folks’ graves. Shows respect. You cleaned out the barn real good too. Why don’t you just stay here while I go into town, get you some clothes, some food, and bring them on back here?”

  Jim considered the offer for help from a stranger suspiciously. “I’ve no money to pay for new clothes or food, mister.”

  Joseph pointed to the graves and the barn. “Seems to me you already earned something for your work on the place.”

  Joseph tried to lay a broad hand on the young man’s shoulder, but Jim flinched and moved away, staring at Joseph out of the corner of his eyes, squinting against the sunlight.

  Joseph stretched out his open hand, “You can trust me, son. I’ll bring you out some fresh clothes and some supper. You just stay here long enough to eat a decent meal. Then, what you do is up to you. Shake on it.”

  Jim looked at the outstretched hand. Wiping his own grimy palm on his pants leg, he slowly reached out to grasp it. Joseph felt the firm handshake with satisfaction. The stranger was young and scared, but he had a strong hand and a steady eye. As he climbed up into the wagon and clucked to his team, Joseph smiled. He shouted over his shoulder, “Side door on the house is getting mighty loose on its hinges. You find a way to fix ’er, I’ll make it good.”

  The wagon rattled down the road and Jim retreated from the hot sun to the barn. He looked over his shoulder at the house. Instead of attending to the loose door, he pulled down a harness. The tool box yielded everything he needed. Jim spent the afternoon cleaning and oiling the harness until it shone.

  A gentle wind blew in the barn door and through the stalls, stirring up the faintest aroma of hay and horses. Jim sat absorbed in the work of the harness until the setting sun began shooting darts of pinking light in the door of the barn. With a start, Jim heard the rattling of the returning wagon. Joseph jumped down and came to the barn, leaning against the doorway and watching as Jim rearranged the harness on its pegs.

  Jim smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t get to the door.”

  Joseph shrugged. “No matter. You can always do it in the morning—uh, before you go. I got to get headed back. Here’s some new rags for you. And some supper.” Joseph returned to the wagon and reached under the seat. “Figured you could use these too.” He handed Jim a box of shells for his pistol, waving aside the young man’s protests.

  Jim grasped the man’s hand in gratitude. “I’ve got no way to say thank you, sir.”

  Joseph smiled warmly, “You fix that door before you leave in the mornin’, and that’ll be thanks enough. Good-bye.” He climbed back into the wagon seat before adding, “I’ll be praying for you, young man.”

  Jim nodded once and raised his hand as the wagon pulled out.

  “I didn’t get his name, LisBeth,” Joseph said quietly, “but I know he’d do right by you and MacKenzie if you was to give him a chance on the homestead. You should see the way he’s cleaned up around the place. And just to pay for a night in the hayloft!”

  LisBeth frowned. “You don’t even know his name, and yet you want me to agree to asking him to work on the place?”

  Joseph nodded and added the very thing he knew would secure “the young man’s” place on the homestead—if he wanted it. “I know it’s a mite out of the ordinary, LisBeth, but, fact is, the years are catching me up . . . and I don’t have the energy I once had, and I just thought . . .”

  LisBeth’s frown was replaced with concern, “Oh, Joseph! I’m sorry—I didn’t think. I have expected a lot from you. We didn’t have time to make the proper arrangements before Mac left with his regiment—and then,” LisBeth sighed, “I came back all alone. I just hadn’t thought about all you’ve been doing. Joseph, I’m sorry. Of course, if you need the help, do ask this fellow to stay on. Just ask him to come into town tomorrow, and we’ll work something out.”

  Joseph bargained, “Does he have to come into town, LisBeth? A ride out to the place would do you good, and I’d be glad to take you out there myself on Sunday.”

  LisBeth flinched. “Oh, no, Joseph! I don’t want to go to the homestead, not yet.”

  Joseph rushed to excuse her, “That’s all right, LisBeth. . . . I understand. Some things is pretty hard so soon after a loss. No need for you to go at all. I’ll take care of the arrangements.”

  LisBeth was visibly relieved. “Thank you, Joseph. I don’t know what I’ll do about the homestead, but until I decide, there’s no use in its falling apart.”

  Joseph retreated quickly before LisBeth could repeat a request for the young man to come into Lincoln. He climbed into his wagon, humming to himself, and made his way south again, toward the Baird homestead. In the wagon were provisions for at least a week for the young man he was hoping to convince to stay on.

  When Joseph drew aside the cover that had hidden the provisions, Jim grinned and agreed to stay. “But just for the week. I’ll have things repaired by then, and I’ll be ready to move on.”

  Joseph agreed that a week would be more than enough. But somehow, the next week came, and there were more chores that needed to be done, and Joseph’s rheumatism was acting up. Jim agreed to stay another week. On the seventh day, Joseph’s wagon rumbled onto the place with a bay gelding tied to the back of the wagon.

  “Been nothing but trouble since I bought him,” Joseph recited carefully. “Nips and bites at everything I put in the stall next to him, and won’t have a thing to do with a saddle. I sure got taken when that horse trader come through town last week. So I thought if I was to bring him out here where he’s all by hisself, maybe you could gentle him for me—I just hate to lose my investment in him.”

  When Jim started to protest, Joseph held up his hand, “I know you was fixin’ to leave tomorrow morning. But I just need a little more help with this here gelding, and then you can be on your way. Don’t need no fancy horseman. Just need somebody with the time to talk to the old duff and settle him down a bit. What d’ya say?”

  “Jim” was the answer.

  Joseph had been untying the perfectly well-mannered gelding while he talked. When the young man offered his name, he stopped and looked up in amazement.

  “Jim, that’s my name, sir. Jim Callaway. And I’ll help you with the horse. I’m pretty good with ho
rses. It won’t take long to solve this one’s problems,” a slow grin crept over the sunburned face, “seeing as how he’s perfectly well-mannered already.”

  Joseph’s rumbling laughter filled the air, and he slapped the gelding’s neck. “Caught me, didn’t ya! Well, I just thought you needed company out here, and if you did decide to leave, you’ve more than earned a better way to travel than those two feet. So, Jim Callaway, will you stay on the place? I brought you a horse I don’t really need help with, but the fact is Miz Baird does need help with this here place until she decides whether to keep it or sell it. Her husband was killed at the Little Big Horn, and she ain’t got over it yet. Came home to find she’d just lost her Mama too. She said she’d like to have you stay on and keep the place up, if you want the job.”

  “She won’t need to pay me,” came the curt reply. “It’s a place to stay, something to do. Something worthwhile—bringing a place back to life. I’ll like it.” He took a deep breath and his eyes met Joseph’s. “I’d be obliged to Mrs. Baird if she lets me stay on here and bring her place back to life. Maybe it’ll help—” Jim snapped the door shut on his past before finishing the sentence.

  Joseph was satisfied. He nodded gravely, “I know, son. I know. I been in places like you been. Just don’t get bitter, Jim. Bitterness will kill your spirit quick as anything. Just let it go. Count your blessings and move on, Jim.”

  Once again, the bay gelding brought Jim back to reality. The rubbing had stopped, and the gelding shoved his big head at Jim again, nearly pushing him over. Joseph laughed and Jim smiled slowly. “Real mean horse, Joseph. Don’t know how I’ll ever calm him down, but I’ll do my best.”

  Joseph swung onto the wagon box again, laughing all the while. “Thank you, Jim. I shorely do appreciate it. Now, I’ll be out again in a couple a days and you make me a list of what you’ll be needing to get the place going again. Miz Baird’ll be right happy to know her husband’s home place is going to be taken care of.”

  Chapter 7

  Be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another.

  Ephesians 4:32

  A few days later LisBeth made her pilgrimage to Mac’s homestead. Thinking of Jim’s plea to be “left alone,” Joseph protested mildly, but in the end LisBeth had her way. Secretly rejoicing in a day of freedom away from sympathetic eyes, LisBeth climbed up beside Joseph and settled back for the supply run to “Mac’s place.”

  “I’ve never seen the place, Joseph,” LisBeth reminded him. “Seems like I ought to at least see it before I decide what to do with it. Heaven knows I’m no homesteader.” Her voice softened, “But there’s no grave to visit, and I like the idea of being able to visit the place where Mac was a boy.” LisBeth turned her head away, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin.

  “I recollect how your mama used to do just that when she was fixin’ to take on a chore,” Joseph said.

  “Do what?”

  “Used to pull her shoulders back and lift her head up and face things straight on.”

  “Is that what she did that night we stumbled across your campfire outside Fort Kearny?”

  Joseph smiled at the memory. “Well, now, it was mighty dark that night. But. I shore recollect she faced the next day head on.” Joseph began to chuckle. “You was a feisty little gal, LisBeth.”

  LisBeth smiled ruefully. “Hope I still am, Joseph. Life hasn’t been too good lately, but I’m going to pull through, whatever it takes. Mama always said to just trust the Lord and go ahead. Well, I’m trying to go ahead.”

  “Don’t forget the other part,” Joseph interjected. “The part about trustin’ the Lord.”

  LisBeth changed the subject. “May I drive the team, Joseph?”

  Joseph shook his head. “This team just needs the man’s touch, LisBeth.”

  LisBeth begged. “Please, Joseph. It would be fun!” She put on such a pathetic face that Joseph burst out laughing.

  “My, my, LisBeth. You look just like you did that day you begged your mama to let you sit up beside me on the wagon. And me a stranger and all! Shame on you, girl, you do know how to get your way!”

  Joseph handed the reins to LisBeth, keeping his foot near the wagon brake and keeping his voice low and gentle as he instructed the new driver. The horses flicked their ears suspiciously. The voice was the same, but there were new hands on the reins. It required all LisBeth’s young strength to manage them. She welcomed the challenge. After the first few miles, she relaxed a little and began to look beyond the team’s ears to the landscape about her.

  Sunflowers were everywhere. They ran along the road, giving way here and there to tangles of low-growing wild roses and butterfly weed. On one side of the road, a thicket of chokecherries had attracted several meadowlarks. They flitted among the small trees, snatching the deep red fruit greedily, then rising to higher tree branches to fill the air with song. With youthful willfulness, LisBeth refused the memories that tried to crowd in. No, she thought, it’s a lovely day, and I’m going to enjoy the sunshine.

  She studied every detail of the scenery as the team jogged along. Joseph pointed out the place where the drive to the homestead met the main road, and LisBeth urged the team to a canter. Joseph’s voice lost its gentle flow as he urged LisBeth to slow down. They clattered into the farmyard, and LisBeth found herself standing up and pulling back with all her strength to stop the team and prevent their running past the barn and into the field beyond.

  As they rattled to a halt, Jim Callaway rounded the corner of the barn. LisBeth was out of breath, and her hair had come down on one side from jouncing along the last bit of the road. For a moment she was LisBeth King again—unaffected and natural, enjoying a lovely day in the country with no thoughts of the tragedies in her life. The sun shone in her dark eyes, and she squinted into the barn with a smile playing about her mouth. There, she thought, I’ve done it. Joseph didn’t think I could, but I’ve done it.

  Jim only got to see LisBeth King for a fraction of a moment. Even as Joseph called out a hello and introduced her, LisBeth’s eyelids drooped to cover her sparkling brown eyes. She sat down and hastily pushed her hair back into a tight bun at the back of her head. Climbing down stiffly, LisBeth became the widow LisBeth Baird.

  Accepting Jim’s hand as she climbed down from the wagon, LisBeth offered an explanation. “Joseph didn’t want me to come, but I thought I should. We brought your supplies.” She turned to look about the farmyard. The freshly painted house fairly gleamed in the sun. “You’ve been working hard.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My folks always said, ‘If a man’s taken the trouble to paint the house and the barn, then he’s got a good crop in the ground and success on the way.’ I figure if you’re going to sell the place, you’ll get a better price this way.”

  “Yes—well.” LisBeth stood uncertainly, then walked toward the back of the wagon and helped Joseph pull the canvas cover off. “I didn’t really give Joseph much chance to check the supplies before we left. I hope we remembered everything you need.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all be fine, ma’am,” Jim said, twirling his hat round in his hands awkwardly.

  Joseph rescued him. “I’ll water the team, Jim. You go ahead and unload your supplies.”

  Jim turned to LisBeth. “There’s shade up on the porch. Can I—” Jim cleared his throat nervously. “Can I bring you a drink of water?”

  With a quick “No, thank you,” LisBeth crossed the farmyard and took shelter at the edge of the porch. She sat in the shade and watched the quiet, tall, redheaded man haul bundle after bundle into the side door of the house. Something about the way he moved and held himself was oddly familiar.

  Finally, she stepped into the sun. “This is ridiculous. I can help you with those.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am,” Jim protested. “I’m nearly done. There’s only that barrel of flour and then it’s done.” He hastened to hoist the barrel up on his shoulder.

  LisBeth sat back. That voice—that sounded familiar too.
When Jim came out of the house, he checked the harness. LisBeth watched him carefully, wondering. Stepping around the team, he carefully inspected the team’s hooves for stones. Finally, he turned back to LisBeth. “Thank you for bringing the supplies out. I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble,” LisBeth answered. “I enjoyed the drive out.” She sighed. “Sometimes, in Lincoln, where everyone knows me and everyone knew Mac, well, sometimes it’s hard. I enjoyed driving out here.”

  The team was watered and Joseph checked the harness as LisBeth climbed up onto the wagon seat. A small package caught her attention. “This must be yours, Mr. . . .” LisBeth smiled. “I just realized that Joseph has never told me your full name.” She paused, expecting a reply. But Jim didn’t answer. He reached for the package, and as he did it came undone and fell to the ground. It held a tiny plant, much the worse for the long journey it had taken.

  As Jim stooped to pick it up, he smiled sheepishly. “My mother had one of these growing up the side of the porch. I thought I’d build a trellis and see if I could make it grow here. They’re mighty pretty when they bloom.”

  “What is it?”

  “Roses—but not the kind that grow along the road. I saw this one in town last week.” He hastened to explain, “Joseph and I went hunting and it was too late to get back here, so I rode into town with Joseph and bunked in the livery until sunrise. But I saw this rose, just the same color my mother loved.” He was embarrassed, and his face glowed red. “I guess Joseph must have asked for a slip.”

  LisBeth looked at the scrawny root. “I hope it grows,” she said softly. “Mac would love to see this place brought back to life. I just know he’d be pleased.”

  Jim set his future rose bush in the shade of the porch. “Oh, it’ll grow, ma’am. I’m good at making things grow.” He reached up to scratch the back of his neck. “Not much good for anything else—but I can make things grow.”