Rush

by Jayme Mansfield

  As I leaned my head into her neck and listened to her breathe, loneliness loomed like a late day’s shadow—my only companion for many days to come.

  *****

  The not-so-far-off pounding of hooves startled me. Two riders approached from the slight hill to the north. Now that my hat was gone, I could only smooth my hair into the knot tied at the base of my neck. Just in case, I lifted the rifle and leaned it against my skirt. Sure hope this is a friendly meeting.

  The riders slowed to a trot and then reined to a stop. One tipped his hat, revealing a sun-darkened face. “Ma’am.”

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” I held my chin high.

  The other showed a youthful face beneath tousled, blond hair. He was perhaps in his late teens or early twenties. “My brother and I have come to inform you that you’re on our land.”

  “Probably through no fault of your own,” said the first one, “being that it can be confusing who staked first.” He pushed his hat back, displaying ebony eyes. “Unfortunately for you, these acres are under the rights of Mr. Cooley.” The cowboy stood in his stirrups and pointed to the left. “Just over that hill is our family’s marker, and it was well in the ground before you ever got here.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  One brother squirmed in his saddle as the other loudly cleared his throat.

  “We were already sitting around the campfire singing songs when we saw you ride on past.” The boyish one chortled. “Didn’t you hear my harmonica?”

  “Nate, keep your wit to yourself.” The other frowned. “Ma’am, I’m Ben Cooley, and this here is my younger brother, Nate. Our family, under the authority of our father, Stanley Cooley, has been raising cattle along the Kansas border and in this area for a long time.”

  “You’re standing on part of our lease from the Cherokees,” Nate added. “No one, not even a pretty lady like you, is gonna put another name on this acreage.”

  “If the members of your family are ranchers, then you are well aware those leases don’t exist any longer.”

  Ben spoke first. “Our father is a founder of the Cherokee Strip Live Stock Association and—”

  “And there’s plenty of other laws that govern out here.” Nate pulled his pistol from his holster and spun it around his finger.

  “Are you threatening me, young man?”

  “Not at all, are we, Ben?”

  It was difficult to keep my voice steady. “Now, you listen to me. Mr. Cooley will need to find different grazing land.” My stance widened as I raised the gun. “I raced for this land just like any other fair person and was the first to drive my stake into the ground.”

  Ben replaced his hat. “You don’t seem to understand, ma’am. This land—”

  “Is mine. That’s the only thing to understand, gentlemen.”

  Nate leaned over and whispered something to his brother.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Ben snapped. Slowly and methodically, he dismounted and walked toward me.

  Whether instinct or panic, I lifted my rifle to my waist.

  “Our family don’t want no trouble with you, ma’am.” Ben stopped a few feet away. “But what’s ours is ours, and you need to pack up your things and ride on home like a good little girl.”

  I pointed the gun at Ben. “No trouble is wanted here either, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Lady, you’d be smart to put that down,” Nate called from his horse.

  The realization that he had his pistol aimed at me quickly called me back to my senses, but I kept the gun in place. Though my heart raced, determination helped me stand my ground regardless of where my next words led. “Here’s the problem with your story, and you can share this with your father as well.” The scene played over with vivid clarity. “You came over the ridge that borders part of the neighboring lot. Your timing couldn’t have been better. That old man and woman were both crazy as a loon and most likely going to kill me. Guess I owe you something for saving my life.”

  Ben shifted his weight but kept his dark eyes on mine.

  “One of you yelled out that you’d found the prime piece of land.” I glanced up at Nate. “It was you.”

  Nate’s youthful face appeared to age under the curse of his boiling anger.

  Ben clenched and unclenched his fists. “Once we ran them folks off, we headed straight here. Ain’t that right, Nate?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s not what happened, and we all know it.” My mind rehearsed galloping along the creek that eventually led to where I now stood. “While you were racing toward the open field—fixed on getting the claim before that old couple—I continued to ride alongside the river bed. It was the only path that made sense for a horse to run full speed. It was not nearly as rocky and would never cause an animal to lose its footing.” The toe of my boot dug into the gravely earth. “Being horsemen, you would have taken the same path.”

  Ben’s face reddened, and he took a step back.

  “I got here well before either of you.” My hand gestured to the stake in the ground. “In fact, you didn’t realize you even wanted this site until you looked a bit further and saw what mine has to offer.”

  “Lady, you’re lying.” Nate spat on the dirt, leaving a dark mark inches from my feet.

  I held my ground. “How odd that you waited to pay me a visit so late in the day.”

  Ben sneered. “What does that mean?”

  “It means you made a mistake. When you reported the results of the race to your father, you realized this was the site you were supposed to claim.”

  The boys were silent as I contemplated my next move. They were probably doing the same. Before speaking, I prayed for the right words. “After all the excitement has settled and both your family and I have registered our rightful claims, we’ll become good neighbors.”

  Ben backed away, then turned and mounted his horse. “Your story won’t hold up with the law.” He tipped his hat and smirked. “You’ve probably heard what’s been happening to the Sooners once they’ve been found out. It’s a shame a nice lady like you decided to cheat and slip into the territory before the official start of the race.”

  Nate chuckled. “Got that right, brother. Plenty of witnesses saw her sneak in.”

  The Cooley brothers turned their horses and, with spurs laid into flanks, rode away. When the last swish of the horses’ tails disappeared over the ridge, I dropped to the ground and held my stomach. My body trembled from an unwelcome mixture of fear, anger, and disbelief, but my mind was steadfast. Their threat only deepened my resolve to make this my new home.

  I stood and brushed the dust from my skirt. They would find out soon enough who they were trying to run off. With rock in hand, I drove down hard on the stake once more, securing its place in the barren soil.

  This is my land!

  CHAPTER 23

  Daniel ~ Found, September 16, 1893

  Drinking with a Scot can be risky, especially if that Scot is Finn. While many of the new arrivals continued to build the framework of their businesses well into darkness, many stopped to celebrate the success of the day. Bart was intent on doing just that. Fortunately for me, Finn was a willing participant.

  “Mr. Simon and Mr. Levy, can you hear me all the way from town lot number nineteen?” Bart stumbled sideways and took another swig of whiskey. “I’ve got news for you. Remember the young buck you wouldn’t make partner unless I got us land? I did it.” He tossed the empty jug into the campfire where it shattered against the ring of stones. “Simon, Levy, and Reid—that’s what the sign reads now.”

  As if giving applause, Finn released an overt burp. “Congratulations, Bart. They’ll surely be doing a jig when they hear the good news.”

  “Not so sure.” Bart plopped his large frame on the ground, sitting with his legs crossed and arms folded. His posture reminded me of a giant toad that could only sit and wait for something exciting to occur.

  “Why would you say that?” I asked. “They’ll be thrill
ed it was you who jumped from that train, not them.”

  “Truth is …” He uncrossed his arms and held both palms up. “Most likely, their plan was to get rid of me. You know, cut me out.”

  “If that’s what they had in mind, they could have fired you a long time ago,” Finn said.

  “Not that easy.” He picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it into the flames. “My father, The Honorable Jacob L. Reid … you could say he has a lot of influence.” He tossed another handful of dirt, causing thick smoke to rise.

  “Hold on. You’re smothering the fire.” I picked up the few remaining pieces of kindling lying nearby.

  “That’s probably what they were trying to do to me—snuff out my career. I’d bet you all the money left in my pocket they were taking wagers at the courthouse that ol’ Justice Reid’s plump kid couldn’t run the race, let alone win it.”

  Perhaps it was the grit in the air, but tears seemed to pool in Bart’s eyes. None of us spoke for a while. We sat staring at the dwindling fire, pulled into our own thoughts. As the orange and yellow flames flickered, my thoughts were only of her—the woman with the flowing red hair.

  Finn spoke first. “Why don’t you have your own business? You’ve already started it today.”

  Still in his toad-like position, Bart raised his head as if waking from a deep slumber. “The thought’s crossed my mind. Problem is, I owe them a good deal of money from making my way here and getting these supplies.”

  “At least you didn’t lose the whole of it on the train ride,” I added.

  “Again, thanks to both of you for waylaying the thief.” Bart whistled in relief. “Losing all that money would have been the end of me. There’ll be plenty of income once all these cowboys pay up. They won’t get a lick of work from me till they have the funds to hire me.”

  “What about those brothers? Think you’ll hear from them again?” My curiosity was more for my own need than Bart’s.

  “Plan to see them tomorrow. They’re anxious to get that lady Sooner off their land—hopefully get her arrested as well.”

  “Sooner?” I jumped up. “She’s no Sooner.”

  “Said they have proof. Not sure of it yet, but the truth will come out when the three of us meet with the marshal tomorrow. Something about an older couple who swear they saw her hiding out in the bushes and then making a run for it.” Bart rolled to his side and stood. “Ah, heck—all that is confidential. I can’t be talking about a case.”

  “What land are they fighting over? I need to find her.”

  Bart eyed me suspiciously. “Why are you so interested?”

  “Not sure. I just need to talk to her.” Why am I so interested? I don’t even know her—if it’s even the same woman.

  “Could be a lady we saw racing,” Finn offered.

  “Of the thousands upon thousands of people, you think you saw this same woman?” Bart coughed and almost lost his balance. For a moment, a sense of foolishness laughed at me as well. With tattered clothes and bloodshot eyes, the young attorney held his head high. “Regardless, gentlemen, client confidentiality takes precedence. You will get no more details from me without the consent of the men I’m representing. Be assured … I know the law.”

  “This is no way to end the celebration of Mr. Reid’s accomplishment. Here.” Finn pulled a flask from his shirt pocket. “Let’s have another drink.” As he passed the silver container to Bart, Finn winked at me. My friend was up to his usual shenanigans.

  “Gentlemen.” I stretched my arms and yawned. “Time to turn in. I have more years behind me than either of you.” I nodded to Bart. “It’s much appreciated you allowing us to sleep under your tent until we make other arrangements.”

  “My pleasure,” Bart called out to me as I walked away smiling.

  *****

  Daybreak greeted me with Bart’s loud snoring and Finn whispering in my ear. “Section thirty. Township twenty-three. She’s ’bout an hour’s ride from here.” He poked me hard in the ribs. “I even got us horses.”

  The smell of stale whiskey lingered on his breath, but Finn had come through for me. I clutched my bag and—just in case it would be her—the tattered hat. We headed down the road, trodden yesterday for the first time.

  “How in the world?”

  “Don’t ask. Only know the boy with the bottles is quite a businessman. He sells more than water, that’s for sure.” Finn sprinted ahead with his camera case in one hand. “Hurry up. We’ve got to get the horses back before noon.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Mary ~ Meeting, September 17, 1893

  If it’s possible to sleep with one eye open, I did. The Cooley brothers’ accusations made me listen for approaching U.S. Marshals the rest of the day and into the night. My ears had to be keen to any screech, hiss, or howl nearby or in the distance. Or worse … the sound of footsteps sneaking into my camp.

  My thoughts traveled to a sight I would have preferred to forget. Joseph and I had watched a wagonload of accused Sooners, shackled and tied to slats and each other as they rolled into Arkansas City on their way to be tried for the serious federal offense. Word was, it often came down to one man’s word against another, and the judge’s favor. In my case, it would be one woman’s word against three men. If it were true about the ranching family’s position and influence, the outcome was already determined. I rubbed my wrists, hoping I would never feel the pain of tightened ropes or heavy chains around them.

  *****

  Sadie finished the remaining bits of grain and eagerly nibbled on a patch of clover. I packed a few supplies for my ride to Perry, one of the four land offices available to legally claim my parcel and receive a deed of ownership. Fortunately, after walking to what I thought was the northeast area of my claim, I was able to locate the small pile of rocks and jotted down the numbers that designated the location and identity of my site. As a reminder to any wayward or late rushers, my blanket, canvas, and the sparse cooking items would be left behind as a reminder that someone had already staked this claim.

  “It doesn’t feel right riding away, Sadie. Not being here to protect my claim worries me.” It would be different if Tuck were here—if I had my family. How was I supposed to hang on to this land by myself?

  Sadie snorted, content on eating.

  “A stranger could easily pull my stake and set their own.” Sadie groaned with the tightening of her cinch. “No other choice though. Not a person to call on for help out here.”

  Determined to make an imprint on my memory, I walked to the top of the small mound to survey the land. Each cluster of trees and bushes grew thicker as my eye traveled toward the creek. Extending my arm and squinting one eye, I turned in a circle, following the curves and plateaus of the land with my hand. Patches of brilliant goldenrod, mixed with swaths of bluish-green, hazy sage and pink prairie rose spotted the landscape as though an artist had taken a brush to canvas, adding dabs of vibrant color. Tipping my face toward the wide-open sky, the prettiest blue, marbled with subtle swipes of white, greeted me. Brushstrokes by the hand of God.

  Ashamed for not thanking the Lord for my safety over the last couple days, I sank to my knees and bowed my head. After a few moments, my eyes lifted once again to the sky.

  “Father, I’m only a speck in this world—a tiny piece of life in all of Your creation. Insignificant. But I must be important to You. I don’t fully understand why, but You took care of me throughout the race and all the moments up to this point. Thank You, Lord.”

  With hands folded, I spoke the rest of the words with more confidence. It felt right, only the two of us.

  “There’s more, and I hope that’s all right.” The endless blue sky sprawled in front of me like an ocean holding bits of heaven on this side of life. “Please, Lord, watch over my land. Wrap a hedge of protection around it so others can’t take it from me. I promise to take special care of it—to make it a good home for Wesley.” The ascending sun warmed my skin and bathed me in a calm that had been missing for weeks.
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br />   Perhaps it was the western breeze caressing the plains, but the sound of horses approaching from the east was unnoticed until they were well on my side of the creek and a stone’s throw away. In one swift motion, I was on my feet, my heart racing as they rode closer.

  “Ma’am,” a man with an accent called. “Guid morning.”

  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” The other looked at me—not with the uncomfortable stare of some men, but with an odd expression, as if trying to recollect a memory. “We’re bringing no trouble.”

  “Then what does bring you here?” My rifle was already tied to the saddle but, strangely, my heartbeat slowed.

  “Only to introduce ourselves.” The man with the accent gave a slight bow. “I’m Finn Allaway, and this is—”

  “Daniel McKenzie,” the second man added.

  “We’re on assignment from the Boston Globe to cover the race,” Finn said.

  “But the race is over.” My eyes stayed on the one who must have been the elder of the two. His skin was tanned from the sun, but not leathered like the people who spent most of their lives outside.

  “We’re speaking with folks who participated in or witnessed the Rush,” Daniel added. “If you’d oblige us your time, we’d love to hear what you have to say.”

  “And to take your photograph if you don’t mind.” Finn patted the leather case secured to the back of his saddle. “I take the photographs, and my friend paints the pictures.”

  “Who writes the story?” I asked.

  “I do,” they answered simultaneously.

  “Hmm.” My eyes moved to Finn but quickly returned to Daniel.

  Finn pointed to himself and then at Daniel. “We both gather information, anecdotes—”

  “About people we find …” Daniel paused, as though waiting for the right word. “Fascinating.” His announcement hung in the air as an uncomfortable silence joined our company.

  Finn was the one who broke the silence. “Ma’am, what’s yer name?”

  I hesitated but somehow felt these two could be trusted. “Mary Roberts.”