Maggie's Valley (Strong Hearts, Open Spirits Book 1)

by Danni Roan

  Smiling she rose and got a bowl of broth from the stove then picking up a spoon walked to the bed. Seeing her coming Moxi jumped down from the bed with a soft plop and stalked away.

  “She’s really quite sweet you know.” Maggie said sitting down and waiting for Chaz to help elevate Mr. Danvers on his pillows. “Seems like a strange pet to me, and didn’t one of them pounce on you earlier, Chaz?” He asked pointedly.

  “Oh, that’s just his way O’ having some fun. Besides, it was Moxi up the bed, she’s the sweet one.”

  Slowly Maggie concentrated on feeding the broth to the injured man. He was so weak and did not have the strength to help himself. He ate as much as he could then sagged back against the pillows, his face looking gray and wan. Maggie pulled the blankets down and checked to see that his wound had not bled through the bandages. They were still clean and white so she hoped that the healing had begun. She then excused herself for the night as Chaz made the man more comfortable and they all went to sleep.

  Although Maggie got up twice in the night to check on her patient he seemed to be sleeping each time so it wasn’t until the next morning that she really saw him again. He had three days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, but his color seemed better and despite the dark shadows he looked at her with clear, bright blue eyes as she walked over to his cot.

  Chaz got up then as well and went out to tend the stock, collect the eggs and milk the goat. When he opened the door a blast of cold spilled in across the floor making Maggie shiver. Moving to the stove she began to prepare breakfast. She thought some corn meal mush might be alright for their guest and mixed up a big pot letting it simmer while she started the coffee. Behind her a soft voice called out.

  “That coffee sure does smell good.” She turned to see that Mr. Danvers had levered himself up in bed and now sat watching her work in the kitchen. The blankets had slipped down exposing his broad muscled chest, and as she gazed at him, she hoped he was warm enough.

  “Do you think you’re up to a little coffee today?” She asked.

  “I don’t know but I’d sure like to try. I don’t think I’ve gone so long without coffee my whole life.” Just then Moxi jumped up on his bed again but this time he simply scratched her ears and let her sniff him. She then settled down next to him, pressed in along him on the far side of the bed. Maggie smiled.

  “I think you have a new friend.” She said pouring the coffee into a tin cup. “Do you take milk?”

  “No ma’am just black for me.”

  Chaz came in as she took the coffee to Mr. Danvers, he smiled when he saw Moxi curled up next to the lawman, then placed the eggs and milk on the counter, while Maggie helped the other man with his coffee.

  “That sure does taste good. You mind if I try myself?” Maggie handed him the cup and though his hands trembled a little he was able to hold it himself, so she moved the chair next to his bed where he could put the cup down when he tired and went back to the kitchen for breakfast. Once there she stirred the gruel and pulled the molasses down from the shelf, scooping liberal amounts of the porridge into three bowls she poured a dark stream of the sweet liquid over each then set them on the table.

  Chaz strained the milk and carried a pitcher to the table, pouring some onto his breakfast and a little more into his coffee. He then waited patiently for Maggie to say the prayer. As they bowed their heads, a golden shaft of sunlight peaked through the clouds just touching the un-shuttered kitchen window, splashing light across the table and over Maggie as she lifted her voice to God.

  “Lord, thank you for this new day.” Her voice rang out softly in the silent cabin. “Thank you for seeing us through this storm safely. Thank you that Mr. Danvers is feeling better and we pray continued healing for him this day.”

  Just then a soft spluttering from the living room cot, drew her and Chaz’s attention as they turned to look at Mr. Danvers, who had just spilled a bit of hot coffee down his chest. Maggie, rose and went to help him, taking the cup and setting it carefully on the chair, while he wiped his chest clear of the hot liquid.

  She then returned to the table for her breakfast. Adding a quick “and Lord bless this food to our bodies. Amen.” To her blessing before she and Chaz both ate.

  While Chaz cleared the breakfast dishes Maggie took the third bowl of corn meal mush to their guest, and began spooning the sweet, thick, hot cereal up for him. She tried not to notice how his eyes kept examining her, studying her face and eyes as she lifted the spoon to his lips. Finally, he lifted a hand, pushing the spoon away.

  “Have you had enough?” Maggie asked, “Are you in any pain?”

  “I’ve had enough, thank you ma’am. I’m just mighty tired now. I reckon I should sleep a bit.” He replied, but did not take his eyes from her face.

  “Is there something else then?”

  “No.” He paused obviously wanting to say something else. Then, “ma’am, did you really just pray for me to get better?”

  “Well of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “I…, well I…, I don’t suppose anyone’s ever said a prayer for me before, except maybe my gran when I was just a boy.”

  “We are all God’s creation Mr. Danvers, and we all should pray and should have those who pray for us.” She could see his weariness creeping back so she simply said, “Try to rest now and if you need anything just call out. Someone will be close.” And again helping him settle back into the cot, she pulled the blankets up for him and walked away to do the dishes.

  On the third night after their unexpected guest arrived, Maggie was startled awake by the sound of the front door banging open and the loud echoing report of a gun being fired. Grabbing her dressing gown, she raced out onto the front porch just in time to catch Mr. Danvers, standing bare foot on the snowy portico in nothing but his long johns, before he fell to the floor.

  Chaz was already at the door rifle in hand, looking around him desperately for what the lawman could have fired at.

  “You’ll find a mountain cat out near the barn, son.” The man stated as he sagged heavily against Maggie’s shoulder as she turned and half walked half dragged him back to his blankets.

  “I’m sorry I startled you just now Miss. It’s that little bobcat of yours that warned me. He just jumped right up on my chest, starting me awake so I could hear the horses over the wind, then raced to the window snarling to beat the band.”

  “Chaz get your coat and go see that the stocks alright.” Maggie said skeptically. “And take the rifle with you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Chaz said already stomping into his boots and dashing out the door. It was only a few moments before Chaz dashed right back in, his eyes alight with excitement.

  “It’s there Maggie, a big old mountain lion, sprawled out right there near the barn! I don’t know how you hit it from that far with on’y a pistol Mr. but you sure enough did.” And with that he slammed the door and raced back out to the barn.

  “Now the question is how much damage have you done to yourself?” Maggie said starting to unwind the bandages. She could already see a large bright red spot starting to spread across the white strips of cloth. “You’ve opened it up again.” She said a mixture of awe and disgust in her voice, but she didn’t chide him. She simply put on the pot, then cleaned and re-bandaged the wound.

  Chapter 9

  Over the next few days the trio fell into a routine. With Maggie staying in or close to the house in case Mr. Danvers needed anything and Chaz handling most of the outside work. With the snow continuing to pile up around them off and on there was little to do but keep the fire going and tend the animals anyway.

  Maggie took the extra time to sew, knit and bake. She was making skirts to cover the shelving under the work table as well as other items of use. She even cooked up a couple of berry pies that delighted Chaz when he saw them cooling by the stove. That evening. Mr. Danvers insisted on eating at the table and although it was obvious his side was hurting him he was able to get all the way through dinner with them e
ating heartily of the venison roast with crisp browned potatoes, carrots and parsnips, fresh baked bread and two helpings of pie.

  “She sure is a good cook ain’t she?” Chaz observed as he sat back from the table. “I never did eat so good until I met Ms. Maggie.”

  He smiled at his friend and partner then leaned forward and making sure not to meet Maggie’s eyes said. “You ever gonna tell us what you was doing all the way up here all shot up like that?” He gulped but met the steady gaze of the larger man. He heard Maggie’s gasp of disapproval, but ignored it waiting on the stranger’s reply.

  For a brief moment the lawman’s face lit up with a half-smile and Maggie let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding.

  “There have been reports coming back to us of farmers, with lawful rights to the land they hold around and near Sawbrush being forced off of their land. It seems that one of the bigger ranches wants to keep all of the land for themselves and are making it uncomfortable to be a farmer anywhere around here. I was sent out to see what I could find and maybe do something to put a stop to it. We haven’t had any reports of anyone being killed yet but it’s probably just a matter of time before shootings do occur.”

  Chaz and Maggie looked at each other bewildered. “Have you had any problems like that here?” The man asked.

  “No. no we haven’t had anyone here at all, well a couple of Indians, but no one else. We’re very isolated and it’s hard to find this valley. You can’t imagine how surprised I was when you appeared out of nowhere.”

  “Indians! “The Marshall asked, his eyes darting to the front door.

  “Not like that.” Maggie chided. “They were friendly. They even gave us our goat. One of their elders had wondered off and ended up here with us. That’s all.”

  Chaz had sat quietly during the interchange and then suddenly spoke. “Miss Maggie, do you think that was what all that fuss was down ta’ Sawbrush last time we were there? You know with them cow pokes, shootin’ at that farmer?”

  “That would make sense Chaz, but in the end Mr. Vane put a stop to it.”

  “Vane?” the lawman asked, narrowing his eyes. “Vane of the Bar T?”

  “Yes, I believe that’s him. Do you know him?”

  “Only by reputation ma’am. He’s a big rancher in these parts. His families been here a while. You say he stopped some cowboys from shooting a farmer?”

  At this point Maggie found it easier to tell the whole story of their last trip to Sawbrush. Jason Danvers listened carefully and filed the information away for later use.

  Between Maggie’s, cooking and her insistence that he get plenty of rest Jason had soon not only gained back his strength but was also feeling restless. Each day he took his meals with the two who had taken him in and had most assuredly shaved his life.

  They were a strange pair to his thinking. They had held nothing back about their situation. He was sad to think of a beautiful young woman like Maggie, being orphaned and widowed all at once and he found himself amazed at her quiet strength and open heart despite how life had treated her.

  How had she found it in herself to take in that boy when he turned up on her door step like a stray, when she herself must have been hurting? Just like she’d taken in the bobcat kittens. She was a strong woman and he found he admired her more as each day passed.

  Her only oddity seemed to be how religious she was. He didn’t have a problem with folks going to church and such, it was important to have shared values in any community and a church worked as a means to help people see how to get along and live peaceably. But whoever prayed like that every day? He’d never known anyone to do that. And the way she did it; like she was just talking to someone right there with her. That he just couldn’t understand.

  After nearly ten days of confinement to the cabin. Jason once again joined his hosts for breakfast before the sun was quite up. After they’d eaten he simply put on his coat and walked out with Chaz to do the chores. No one said anything about it but he knew he’d have to take it easy a while longer yet, but he figured gathering eggs, and checking stock wouldn’t strain him. Besides it would give him some time alone to talk to the boy who always had a dozen questions all at once.

  The morning was brisk and it felt good to step out of the cabin for more than just going to the outhouse. He breathed deeply of the crisp mountain air and crunched across the fallen snow to the barn behind the boy. Entering the barn he went immediately to his horse, checking him over and stroking his neck. The animal was in fine shape and seemed none the worse for wear after his trek through the blizzard.

  He was still astounded that the horse had found his way straight to the cabin in this remote place, especially with him half dead in the saddle. He patted the animal’s neck again. Then picked up a pitch fork and started mucking out the stall.

  “You sure you’re up to that?” Chaz queried. “Miss Maggie ‘’ll be mad as a wet hen if you open up that wound again.”

  “I promise to take it easy, but I’m not one to sit about all day, and I’ve had ten days of doing nothing.”

  “You sure got a fine horse there.” Chaz said indicating the man’s mount. “Clara here, she’s mine. She ain’t much but she’s mine just the same.” Hearing the pride in the young man’s voice. Jason raised his head to look at the big chestnut mare the boy was leaning against her. She was still too tall and too gangly, but he could see she was filling out.

  “My grandad used to have horses like that.” He said kindly. “All legs and knees they were until they were about four years old then they chunked up and everything seemed to fit together just right.”

  Chaz beamed at him then turned back to his chores. First he turned the horses out into the corral to frisk in the freshly fallen snow, then he sat to milking the goat.

  Jason continued methodically mucking out the stalls. He worked slowly but steadily trying not to over tax himself. Each time he stooped he felt his side pull and tighten, but so far it wasn’t too bad. He was a persistent man, one of the traits that probably got him into his current job. He didn’t mind slow, methodically work, but he did like to see a job through.

  His mind worked on the problem of Sawbrush while his body went through chores that had been a part of him for most of his life. After the stall was cleaned he tossed down more hay from the loft both into the stalls and out the wide upper doors of the barn into the corral to the horses below. The sun was now over the horizon and he saw Chaz heading to the house with the milk.

  Stepping to the double doors of the barn he paused, leaning on his pitch fork to truly look at where he was. His eyes scanned across a wide valley probably at least two miles wide surrounded by mountains. Every aspect before him was white with winter’s precipitation. Stark black barked trees stretched their barren branches toward the sun as they climbed along the eastern peaks bathing the valley below in shimmering brightness and dancing shadows. Deep green, pines arched further up the slopes, their dark bows now covered in snow. As the sun reached further into the valley, reflected back by the snow, he could just make out the depression that must have been a small lake or pond, and as his eyes adjusted to the brightening glare, he picked out the dark forms of deer and antelope foraging through the snow.

  The whole valley was really a bowl edged by steep mountains. For a moment Jason just stared, then turned to look at his gray horse as it pawed through the fresh snow for grass. “Now how in thunder, did you ever get us here?” He asked a slow shiver ran through his body and he re-buttoned his coat against the winter’s sharp bite. Then turned back into the barn to see what else he could do.

  There was really little work to be done. All the tools and equipment were stored and put away. Aside from the daily work of cleaning stalls and milking the goat. There wasn’t much to be done, the hay loft was full to the brim with this year’s fresh yield, and repairs to the structure itself were even in evidence. He smiled at the comfortable home right here in the middle of nowhere.

  After returning his
pitch fork to where he’d found it he headed out to have a look around the place. His side was itching and burning after his short labor so he ambled along behind the chicken coop, then further toward the back of the cabin where the privy was.

  He passed the wood shed, a long open lean-to with wood stacked neatly in rows. Several large logs had been skidded up to the back of the shed, waiting to be chopped. He continued his circuit moving along the back of the cabin, noting the repairs to the chinking and the patch on the shutters. There had been a lot of hard work put into getting this place winter ready and he nodded in approval at what his two hosts had accomplished in one short summer. Finally, he made his way back to the cabin, stomping off his boots before entering.

  Pulling his hat off as he stepped inside he hung it on a peg by the door and gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the relative darkness of the cabin. The shutters had all been opened and the morning sun joyfully danced on the polished wood floor, but it was still gloomy after the dazzling brightness outside. As he turned he saw Maggie sitting with the butter churn between her knees, rhythmically pulling the churn handle up and down to make the butter. She lifted her head and smiled at him.

  “There’s fresh coffee on the stove if you’d like some?” She indicated with her head. He noticed that strands of hair had fallen from the tight knot she kept it in, adding a softness to her features.

  Suddenly a feeling came up in his chest: a strange feeling something akin to affection. He barely knew this woman but he knew he respected her for what she had done. He admired her steadiness and her kind heart. Quickly taking himself in control once more Jason squashed the feelings flowing through him and discarded them completely. He was a lawman and there was no room for a wife and family in that job. What kind of man would expect any woman to spend her days waiting to be widowed, or watch her children everyday wondering how long it would be until they had no father? Instead he smiled and said. “Thank you.” Then went to the stove to pour himself a cup of the steaming brew.