by Danni Roan
Maggie’s Valley
Strong Heart, Open Spirit
Dedicated in loving memory
to my sister Cleo who reminded me to not put off until tomorrow what can be done today
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue:
Chapter 1
Though Maggie’s body was weary, her eyes simply would not sleep so they gazed out the black window of the slowly rocking train into the bleak night. Only vague shapes and subtle silhouettes could be seen in the utter darkness; ethereal forms only noticeable by their deeper pitch than the night itself.
Although the outside world was largely lost to her, the soft light of the swaying car cast her reflection back at her and it was this she studied. A pale narrow face, stared at her from deeply sunken, black rimmed eyes. Her hollow cheeks enhanced to gauntness by the dark shadows of her carriage seat, made her pale cheek bones seem even higher, accentuating the hollows in her cheeks. Deep auburn hair tucked into a tight knot on top of her head appeared as black as the hat it sat pinned under, and to her eyes her lips seemed to be only a slash across her face.
Her tattered Bible lay open in her lap, her lean, bony hands folded over it like silent, white spiders on tissue thin pages. It was too dark now, even with the soft lantern light of the carriage, to read, but she had still not closed the book.
Her eyes turned once more to the outer darkness and a sad smile touched her colorless lips. “Yeah though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil…” sounded in her brain. She was alone: Truly alone for the first time in her life, but she was going home.
The influenza epidemic had taken everything from her back East. Her father; always so strong, tall and amiable, now gone; wasted away by an unseen killer. David small, quiet, and loving buried beneath the granite head stone that bore their name. They had only been married two years and now that too was over; left behind. Gone like dust. Maggie was used to change.
Change was the only constant in life. She had learned that early on. First it was her mother when she was only three who had left her. She had died trying to bring her baby brother in to the family but both had lost the struggle to stay in this world leaving Maggie and her father to go on as best they could. Then, when she was older they moved back East: back to Philadelphia where her father had come from so many years before. She let the darkness of the outside world engulf her again; that silent emptiness of night that leaves you alone with only your thoughts and the smoke of the past for company.
Philadelphia had been a change that she thought she would never be able to endure. The noise, the press of bodies, the heavy air and crowded living quarters. But soon enough school, friends and then falling in love made even that bustling city seem like home. A fleeting smile touched her lean face as she embraced those memories for just a moment.
Now that life was gone, she had turned her back on that place, leaving behind the ghosts that she had so recently buried and now weary, herself not fully recovered, she sat in this cold wooden box clacking its way back to the mountains she had missed for so long.
Utter and total exhaustion, exhaustion she had never known in all of her twenty-four years, finally overtook her and she leaned her ashen cheek against the icy glass of the window closing her eyes to join the nothingness for just a little while.
The train was slowing. Its huge, spreading, plumes of inky smoke mingled with steam as the great wheels steadily began to lose speed. Maggie opened her eyes to bright day light, somehow she had slept hours away. Her face was stiff from where it had rested against the window and she rubbed at it to warm it, imbuing it with some resemblance of the pinkness of life. The conductor smiled as he walked by and mentioned they were coming into her final stop; the city of Sawbrush. He had been so kind, even solicitous during the long, arduous journey so she smiled up at him as he passed.
For a moment her heart fluttered with excitement and she turned to look out the window toward the distant mountains. “I will lift up mine eyes to the hills, from where my strength shall come…” the words drifted softly through her mind like a prayer. After all this time she was here.
She straightened her hat and tidied her clothing as best she could after days of constant travel, then as the train gave one final lurch, steel wheels squealing to a halt, she stood and took down her heavy valise. Soft murmurings came from her fellow passengers as they gathered their personal items and began to disembark. Woman chivied children along the aisle while men in tall Stetsons, or small bowler caps strode confidently down the stairs, stepping boldly onto the platform below.
The noise and smells as Maggie stepped down from the wooden carriage, assailed her senses in a rush; stamping horses, children racing beside long board walks attached to stark wooden buildings, ladies in simple country wear walking in and out of the few shops available. She smelled, fresh grass, and horse dung, and dust in layers beneath the acrid smoke of the steam engine. The whistle blew again and she quickly hopped from the iron step where she had paused to take it all in.
Many people stood about waiting for friends or relatives to disembark from the train, or hugging those who were going on to areas yet unknown and for a moment loneliness threatened to overtake her. Sawbrush wasn’t a big town but the rail road stop had insured that it would stay on the map and kept it busy with people coming and going from all over the west. Cattlemen brought their beef on the hoof to the station to be shipped further west, or even back to the big cities in the East. Shops, stores, even a hotel and a restaurant were evident just across the street from the train depot.
For long moments Maggie stood on the platform looking at her almost familiar surroundings, trying to once more get a sense of the place. Finally, she stepped up to the porter who was unloading the boxes, crates and trunks from the storage cars and asked that he bring her bags to the hotel where she would spend the night. She reached into her beaded hand bag and pulled out a small tip, then smiled and headed toward the street. A cowboy doffed his hat as he rode by and a spotted dog yipped at her as she carefully crossed the dusty street.
Her small heeled boots clunked as she stepped onto the boardwalk on the other side of the wide street and she gazed at the entrance of the tall, wood faced hotel building. The simple, slightly weathered white washed clapboard siding was still inviting and she noted that the door had been freshly painted in a bright spring time yellow.
Stepping inside she was pleased to see that the owners had decorated it neatly and without the garish flair that was so common in many such establishments in the East.
Soft rose wallpaper decked the walls of the entrance, a deep forest green with large and small cabbage roses, in shades of deeper and lighter pink. Two simple wooden benches sat back to back in the center of the room affording guests a place to sit and organize themselves and a wood paneled stairway to the left of the front desk led up, at sharp angles, to the rooms that were open for hire. To the right a wide white framed doorway opened into a dining room with small tables and chairs set for four, their red and white checked table clothes, cheerfully brightening the otherwise dim room, while servers in white shirts and dark trousers moved among the few early afternoon guests. Her mouth watered at the smell of beef stew and biscuits, and her stomach r
umbled complainingly. Maggie suddenly realized just how hungry she really was.
Ten days on a swaying train with nothing but stale sandwiches and the occasional cup of coffee brought back the echo of a once healthy appetite. Quickly she stepped up to the front desk, requested a room, signed the register and taking her key from the clerk, headed to the dining room.
In moments she was seated at a small table with a hot cup of fresh coffee in front of her and ordering the beef stew, which was quickly brought to her window side table where she said a prayer of thanks. Everything tasted wonderful, the soft fluffy biscuits the, salty beef with winter vegetables in a thick gravy made her thankful to be alive.
Finally satiated she rose wearily to her feet and made her way to her room where she found her few possessions neatly stacked in their small leather trunks by the door. Unbuckling her shoes for the first time in many days, she pushed them from her feet and slumped fully clothed onto the clean, well ticked bed.
It was late afternoon when Maggie woke. Her whole body protested as she forced herself from the soft confines of the warm bed and washed her face and hands in the small basin by the window. She would dearly love a bath, she felt like half of her being was comprised of soot and ash, but that would have to wait.
Reluctantly forcing her feet back into her sensible mid-healed leather boots she laced the strings and checked her somewhat bedraggled appearance in the mirror. It would have to do. Sitting back onto the bed she pulled out her beaded bag once more and carefully counted out what cash she had. She had sold everything she could do without in Philadelphia including her father’s small house and shop. Still she didn’t think the money would get her far and she would have to be very careful as she began gathering supplies. Her first and most immediate need, however, was a horse.
Stepping out into the dusty street in the late afternoon’s golden glow brought some warmth to the white of her cheeks as Maggie scanned the single avenue looking for the livery stable. A large graying building with a larger corral stood at the very end of the main street and at the moment the whole fence was ringed with wranglers, cowboys and bystanders.
Hefting the hem of her black traveling gown Maggie stepped into the dust and headed toward what must have been quite a show. As she neared the livery soft shouts and guffaws reached her ears, and then bouts of loud laughter, interspersed with soft cursing. Boldly she ignored the crowd and walked straight into the darkening barn.
“Hello”, she called, expecting a stable boy or hand to come to meet her but the barn was silent except for the soft sounds of horses munching hay or dosing in the darkness.
Slowly she walked the whole length of the barn looking keenly into each stall and assessing each animal she came to. Finally, in the last stall, and only visible because of a chink in the side of the barn she spotted a large, red mule, who immediately put his long ears back flat to his head and cocked a rear foot while turning a wary eye toward her.
She had been around horses long enough to know that she didn’t want to approach this animal and that his mean streak was probably equal to his stubborn streak. Still she approached as close as she could and looking the animal over from a safe distance determined that he was probably the best stock in the place.
Another loud burst of laughter and some mild cussing reached her ears again so she turned back toward the crowded corral. There several young cow punchers were dusting themselves off after evidently having been neatly thrown from the wild eyed buckskin standing in the middle of the fenced enclosure.
“Excuse me.” Maggie said tentatively, hoping that whoever was in charge would hear, but just then another cowboy approached the furiously stomping pony and tried to swing aboard. In an instant he was on the ground and running for cover as the animal snaked its head out and lounged for his back pockets with teeth bared. Another roar of laughter exploded and this time Maggie had seen enough.
“Excuse me!” she exclaimed loudly then smiled as all faces turned to her and hats swished off heads. An older man in overalls stepped up. “Sorry ma’am, I didn’t see you come in.” He said apologetically. “How can I help you? “
“First of all I’d like to know exactly what is going on here.” Maggie stated calmly looking around her at the now somewhat abashed cow hands.
“Oh well we’re just havin’ a little fun, ma’am. See this here horse was the property of a fella who robbed the bank last week. He shot one of the clerks ya see and was hanged for his misdeeds. Problem is now no one can get near that kayoos so we set a bet that anyone who can ride him can have him. Why I can’t even get next ta’ 'em to take off that durned saddle.”
Maggie looked closely at the cow boys around her and the angry and bedraggled horse standing cow hipped in the corral. The animal looked ready to kill but also sore, sweaty and tired. He was surrounded by what he obviously perceived as a threat and would not give in. Sticking her chin in the air she hiked her skirt over her ankles and began climbing over the fence. “Whoa now!” shouted the old hostler as he reached for Maggie's arm. “What do you think you are a doin’? It ain’t safe…”
“You said that if anyone could ride that horse they could take it. Did you not?” She asked, defiance flashing in her eyes. The old man scratched his whiskery chin and then reluctantly replied.
“Well, yes, but…”
“I need a horse," Maggie retorted, still standing halfway up the fence, “and I can’t afford anything as good as this one on my own so I’ll ride it.” She ended glared fiercely at first the hostler and then the cowboys who now stood grinning at her. One finally broke the silence by simply stepping up and helping Maggie, skirts and all over the fence.
“Thank you.”
She stated tersely, “Now if you’ll all stay well back, I would appreciate it. There is no need for anyone to get hurt today."
Silently the gaping crowd moved back a little. The tough little buckskin snaked his head toward Maggie, ears pinned back, and hip still cocked ready to pitch in to another bout of bucking, but then the rustling of her skirt and petty coat seemed to distract him. He turned toward her, and perked his ears forward, trying to figure out why this rustling, dark clad creator was looking at him.
Slowly and speaking softly Maggie moved a little closer to the buckskin pony. His head was now up and his black pointed ears stuck straight toward the sky as he listened to the soft swish, swish of her skirt. Gently Maggie reached out a hand and let the horse sniff it. He sniffed and then nuzzled her hand. Maggie very carefully reached her hand into the pocket of her traveling coat and pulled out a leftover biscuit and handed it to the dust brown animal, who sniffed tentatively then gobbled down the proffered treat.
Maggie smiled and stroked the ponies face gently, talking softly all the while until the beast relaxed. “Now you listen here fella’” she whispered softly as he munched his biscuit. “I have to ride you around a little and I can see you’re terribly tired of all of this. Now you just let me get on with it and we’ll get along just fine.”
Still moving with gentle touches Maggie pulled the lead rein over her elbow then moved toward the pony’s side. There she did not reach for the saddle horn but threw the stirrup over the seat and unbuckled the girth, then slid the whole heavy rig to the ground where she let it lay. The pony groaned, sideling and then right there sank to his knees in the dusty corral and rolled vigorously while Maggie held loosely to the reins.
The cowboys nearby started calling to the hostler that he was going to lose that horse right there to nothing but a slip of girl.
“No I ain’t!” Retorted the hostler “The deal is she’s gotta ride ‘em and she ain’t done that yet.”
Just then the pony stopped his rolling, lurched to his feet and shook the loose dust from his matted and ragged back. Maggie very calmly led him to the nearest fence rail, shooing the men away from it as if she were swatting flies then stepped first on the fence then carefully slid a leg over the horses back, tucking her skirt around her knees and ankles as best she could.
The old hostler gave a gasp, as the young slip of a girl urged the horse forward and slowly rode around the corral.
“Well I’ll be hanged.” Muttered the stable keeper. “I’d never of believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but girlie you done won yourself a horse.” With that the whole crowd cheered and then dispersed laughing and gossiping about what had just happened.
Slowly the old man walked up to the girl and the horse with an outstretched hand. “Reckon’ you two will be alright together.” Said the old man, despite himself and shook hands.
Maggie smiled brightly then seizing the opportunity asked “And how much do you want for that mule in your barn as well? I’ll be needed a pack animal."
For a long moment the old man just stared at her, open mouthed, then replied, “You sure know how to pick ‘em ma'am, that's for certain sure. That’s one mean mule but if you could handle this fella I ‘spose you’ll manage that one too. Come on in and we’ll see what we can settle on.”
Half an hour later, Maggie had her little mustang tucked up in a warm stall, well fed and rubbed down and she also had paid only forty dollars for a one-hundred-dollar mule. It was completely dark by the time she left the stable. Tomorrow she would need to get supplies but for now she was ready for a hot meal, and good night’s sleep.
Chapter 2
Morning broke cold and damp as a feeble sun tried to push its way over the horizon. Reluctantly Maggie slid from her warm bed and washed in the chilly room. Her whole body ached from her travels and her little adventure the night before. Brushing out her long hair she rewound it into a tight knot then dressed for the day.
This time however she wore only a simple long skirt, a white shirt waist, and her sturdy boots. Today was the first day of the rest of her life and she would have to prepare carefully. Whispering a silent prayer for success she threw a heavy shawl around her shoulders and headed down the stairs for breakfast.