Lizzie looked confused and shook her head. “No, child. The stone didn’t keep you safe. It has no magical powers.”
“But you said—”
“It would guide you? Provide wisdom?” The creases in her brow relaxed, and only the wrinkles earned from old age remained. “Those things don’t come from a stone. Only God is that good.” She pointed to the sky. “But I’d like to believe the Indian was right.”
Together, we said the words, “carved from heaven and slipped to earth.”
“Mary, make me a promise.”
“Anything.”
“Seek His wisdom. Ask for eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to love.” She placed the stone in my palm and closed my fingers. “Especially a heart to love again.”
“Again?”
“Yes, again. It’s worth the pain that inevitably comes with loving.”
“Are you sure about that, Lizzie?”
“It hurts worse to not love at all.”
I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes, squeezing the last few tears down my cheeks.
*****
Losing the horse that carried me through the biggest adventure of my life was hard enough. But wrapping my arms around Joseph’s neck and kissing his stubbly beard threatened to shatter my heart.
“We’ll find a way to check on you,” he spoke into my hair.
After he hugged me and stroked my back, a long-forgotten memory surfaced of what my father did on rare occasions. But when Joseph wiped his eyes with his kerchief, I couldn’t recall ever seeing my father cry.
“When you get a proper address, we’ll send each other letters.” He tugged on his suspenders with both hands. “I have a good feeling about where we’re heading. Pastor Allen promised us those are good people he left behind.”
Lizzie was quiet. She and I had said all that really mattered. Before Joseph lifted her onto the front bench of the wagon, we simply held each other, breathing in rhythm.
God, you placed so many years between us. But somehow, that doesn’t matter in heaven. Please don’t let this be the last time I see her, even if it’s after this life.
Sadie faithfully led Joseph and Lizzie’s wagon across the creek and along the tree line until they rounded a final curve. Only then did I slump to my knees and weep, not caring that I cried aloud. Only the birds and insects, perhaps a lingering rabbit, were my witnesses.
I was now completely alone.
CHAPTER 26
Daniel ~ Trouble, September 21, 1893
The last few days had been filled with sketching the metamorphosis of the landscape. Buildings appeared where before only grasses danced in the wind. Roads gouged into the once untouched soil—permanent scars on the earth. And although to most the new surroundings were positive—signs of growth and opportunity—to me they came with a price. My entire adult life had been spent enclosed by the dimness of a city. I had forgotten how captivating the open sky could be and the peace it brought when gazing at its grandeur and knowing there was more to my life than what the moment afforded.
“I won’t be traveling back with you.” I waited for Finn’s response.
“Figured as much.” Finn carefully wrapped the last of the film he would develop in the Globe’s darkroom.
“You did? Think you can read my mind?”
“Just yer heart.” He playfully punched my arm. “Makes sense. Been missing Elizabeth something awful.”
“What will you tell McKelvey when only one of us shows up?”
Finn tapped the side of his head with his forefinger. “Steps ahead of you, my friend. I’ll tell him you stayed on to cover one of the greatest events in the history of our country. And you’ll give him one of your best paintings to gift to his wife.”
“I will?”
“If you want your job when you return to Boston. You are coming home, aren’t you?”
“Eventually.” I lifted a bundle of sketches. “As soon as I complete a few of these.”
“But why not in your studio?” Finn averted his eyes as he fastened the straps on his bag. “I know, I know. You need to be surrounded by the inspiration.”
“I’ll be back before you know it. But you’re right. That’s how we artists do our best work. And right now, my greatest inspiration is here.”
*****
Approaching the spot where the creek curved and widened, I pulled on the reins. The enterprising young lad had been quick to raise the rental price for the mare when he found out I needed flexibility as to when she would be returned.
Now, the entire idea to ride out to see Mary seemed foolish. A woman choosing to come out here alone must want to be left that way. She had a fire in her to match that hair. It would be best for me to turn around and catch the next train to Boston.
A skein of geese honked overhead, a reminder that with the incorrigible heat the country had endured, cold winter temperatures would soon follow.
She’ll freeze to death without a sod house for shelter.
It wasn’t clear at first, but woven between the noise above, a cacophony of sounds came from ahead. Men’s voices rang out, whooping and hollering. Similar to the deafening sound at the beginning of the Rush, a pounding reverberated in my chest. But this was different than the sound of racing horses. It was deeper, more guttural.
With my spurs laid into the mare’s sides, I raced around the bend. In the open space at the base of the small hill, well over fifty cattle ran in a tight circle, mooing and snorting as a plume of dust rose into the air. Three wranglers positioned themselves around the perimeter of the herd and snapped long bullwhips in the air. The crack of the leather sounded like gunshots, and the frightened cattle stampeded.
In full gallop, I raced through the creek and across the field toward Mary’s camp. I scanned the area, frantically looking for her while avoiding a collision with a wayward bull. The cowboys yelled and waved their arms in the air as the cattle lunged in awkward diagonals. The massive animals bumped into each other with enough force to make them crumple to the ground.
Then, like a rehearsed dance, the men sidestepped their horses, quickly gathering the herd back into a cluster. As suddenly as it had all started, the animals calmed, and the dust settled. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would have imagined that chaos had ever occurred.
One of the men rode out to retrieve a younger bull that had slipped away. After he shooed the animal toward the others, he trotted in my direction.
Nate Cooley.
“Where is she?” My back stiffened, and my hands fisted around the reins.
“Your lady friend?” Sweat dripped from his temples. “Don’t know.” He motioned to the herd. “We been busy rounding up a runaway herd. We got no time to be worrying about the whereabouts of a woman.”
“You’re lying. You ran your cattle right through her camp.” I swallowed hard at the vacant space where the lean-to had stood.
“Now why would we do that? True enough, some of our cattle split off and wandered down here to graze.” He shrugged as if this were an everyday occurrence. “Those bovines have a mind of their own. Must have followed the creek and then found some tasty clover on the flat.”
My teeth clenched as an unexpected anger filled me. “Stay off her land.”
In his customary manner, Nate spat on the ground. “I’ll tell my men to keep a better watch on the cattle.”
*****
There was little left of the campsite. Broken branches and torn pieces of canvas were scattered as if a tornado had brought its wrath. A skirt, blouse, and wool coat were in a heap. A blanket and a few undergarments lay nearby. The ring of stones and logs rested in random places, wherever they settled after being kicked by the powerful hooves. I picked up a flattened tin mug and a dented cooking pot, then righted a torn sack of flour, leaving what looked like a drift of snow in the dirt. A water barrel lay on its side, the last of its contents dripping out of a bullet hole.
She had so little, and now look what’s left.
“Drop what’s
in your hands, and get off my land before I shoot a hole in you.”
Though the voice was low and menacing, I knew it immediately. Not wanting to scare her—or have her stay true to her threat—I dropped the items in my hands. “Mary, it’s me, Daniel.” I turned slowly, hands in the air, and faced her.
A shotgun pointed straight at my heart. “Daniel?”
“I’m so glad you’re—”
“How could you do this?” Her lips trembled, but the shotgun stayed firmly in place.
“That’s absurd. I would never do such a thing. I only came here to check on you.” I stepped forward, but the look on her face stopped me. “It was the Cooley boys, Mary. They ran their cattle through your camp. See? There are hoof prints and manure everywhere.”
Our eyes locked, but a shudder passed through me at my inability to stop what had happened. “I’m so sorry. If only I could have gotten here sooner.”
A look of defeat crossed her face, and she dropped the gun. “I should have known. It’s not your fault. Who knows what they would have done had you tried to stop them.” She set the gun against the empty barrel and wandered around the remains of her home.
Everything inside me wanted to help her, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts. A world where—regardless of the danger—she needed to be left alone. First, she wiped dirt from a spoon and bent fork. After gathering shards from a broken plate, she tossed them into the remains of the fire ring. Like they had been freshly laundered, she lifted a skirt and shirtwaist and neatly folded them, then brushed off a torn blanket, shook it several times, and spread it on the ground as though preparing for a picnic.
I didn’t want to stare but found myself mesmerized by her movements, drawn to her as though she were a siren, beckoning me during my journey. She raised a silver hand mirror in front of her face but dropped it where it had laid—shattered.
When she fell to her knees, my spell was broken, and I went to her. She lifted a nightdress and reached underneath it for a book. Its limp cover flapped open in her hands, and loose pages spilled on the ground. The strewn pages were familiar—Luke, Deuteronomy, Ephesians, James, Genesis …
With delicate movements, she turned the bound pages, inserting those that had been dislodged into their inspired positions. When the pages were replaced, she sat back on her heels and sighed. “My mother’s Bible. I promised her I would read it.” She lifted it to her chest and held it tightly. “Seems like it’s time to get started.”
*****
Paying the boy extra for the horse worked out to my advantage. It took some time for me to help Mary rebuild the lean-to now that most of the support branches were broken.
Even though the cooking pot was dented, it sufficed to hold beans and grits and would serve its purpose for the rest of the food that was unharmed. Fresh water was going to be an issue when the creek dried up altogether, but we brought enough from the creek for the two of us, then rested around the campfire after resetting one of the logs.
“Leaving this morning, I wasn’t sure what kind of neighbors I would find to the south, considering the others haven’t been too hospitable.” She picked up a small shard of glass and tossed it into the fire. “The Andersons seem to be good people, though.” Mary shivered and wrapped a blanket around herself. “They were happy to get a claim in this area. Thomas’ brother is starting a hardware store in the new town. Says he already has the framework together.”
“You don’t say?” I slapped my thigh and had to smile. “If he has a young son with yellow hair and light-blue eyes, he has a businessman on his hands. That boy has practically emptied Finn’s pockets, as well as my own.”
“Everything costs something, especially out here. It sure didn’t help matters to have some of my supplies ruined.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t here. If something had happened to—”
“Where is Finn, anyway?” She stood and walked to the other side of the fire.
“He’s headed back to Boston. Took the earliest train to get a good start.”
“Why didn’t you go with him? You work together, right?”
The light from the fire cast a warm glow on her face and made me pause to take in the sight. She’s so beautiful. “I’ll be heading back myself at week’s end.”
“Certainly. Figured as much. The newspaper is surely needing you back as soon as possible.” She poked a stick into the fire to stir the coals.
You’re a fool, Daniel. She has no interest in you. For all I know, she has another man.
“I’ll be heading back to Missouri tomorrow. It would have been nice to have my deed before leaving, but since I can’t officially register until December, there’s no sense in waiting.”
“Tomorrow?” I tried to sound uninterested. “Business to attend to?”
Her smile was rueful, making her even more attractive. “My son, Wesley. He turned seven last week. My mother’s been taking care of him until I could bring him here.” She tossed the stick into the fire. “I sure miss him. Feel awful we were apart for his birthday.”
“How will you take care of a child out here?” As soon as the words left my mouth, her smile faded.
“The Andersons are delivering my portion of lumber when they get their load from town. With everyone needing to build, it may take a while to get enough for a sufficient house. But we’ll be fine.”
“But he’s only a boy. You can’t expect him—”
“I said we’ll be fine.” She pursed her lips before turning her back toward me.
Clearly, I had overstepped my place, but I couldn’t help myself with thoughts of the two of them left alone out here. “He’s not strong enough to help you build a house. Let me build a proper—”
She spun around, and the look on her face was intense. “Mr. McKenzie, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of my son.”
“But Mary …” I stepped toward her, but she backed away.
“And myself.”
Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. She busied herself cleaning the plates and pot while I gathered and stacked the sparse kindling.
When she spoke, her voice was sad. “Thank you for your help today, but it’s best if you leave now.”
A pit formed in my stomach that hadn’t been there since I was a young man. I hadn’t allowed myself to care for another woman in all the years since.
“No offense intended. Only respect for what you’ve done here. Not many women would have taken on this challenge on their own. Just offering help for a friend.”
A deep sadness etched its way into her features. “A stubborn friend for sure, but not foolish. Life won’t be easy. Whoever said it’s supposed to be is a liar.” She seemed to be trying to hold back tears. Maybe there were difficult memories locked behind her wall of determination and independence.
“Mary, you’re strong, capable ...” I hesitated, but the next words surged from my heart, intent on being released, “and beautiful.”
She stared at me with a quizzical look, as though my words sounded foreign. When she didn’t reply, I silently cursed myself for being so bold.
After a moment, she turned away. “It’s best if you go.”
All of my being wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold tightly … admit my heart had begun to feel again even at the thought of her … tell her I cared about her and wanted to be with her. But I walked toward the mare, unlatched the halter, and slipped on her bridle. My body was numb, only going through the motions. After tightening the cinch a final time, I pulled myself onto the horse and tipped my hat. “Best of luck to you, Mary. No doubt, you’ll make a fine home for you and your son.”
She pulled the blanket closer around her before I turned and rode away.
Whether it was the coolness of the autumn night air—a reminder that the harsh winter months were approaching—or a premonition that both our hearts could grow cold from fear, or perhaps pride, I shuddered.
CHAPTER 27
Mary ~ Reunion, S
eptember 23, 1893
With my forehead against the window from a mixture of exhaustion and excitement, the train pulled into the Kirksville station. As the distance from home shortened along the rail tracks, the more my absence from Wesley and my mother was realized. In turn, the greater the physical distance grew between me and my new land, I yearned for it as well. Oddly, my life was suspended between two worlds. It was difficult to know which to call home. Regardless, without time to send a letter, my family would be surprised to see me back so soon.
On the train, I had been able to scrub the grime off my face and neck and then tame my hair into a twist. Walking through town without a hat wouldn’t matter. My head could be held high after my success in the Rush.
*****
Wesley begged me to retell the details of the race several times over the dinner table. He giggled each time at the description of the Englishman dashing alongside me, especially when I attempted a poor British accent. Both his eyes and mouth widened at the thought of me straddling Sadie, racing full speed over the open plain like a man.
The run-in with the old couple near the creek and the cattle being stampeded through my campsite were not mentioned. Those were realities I hoped we would never face again. My only mention of Daniel was that he and his colleague from an East Coast newspaper had taken my photograph, perhaps to be included in an article about successful claimants.
Other than wanting to know more about the Contolinis and sharing her concern for Lizzie, Mother was quieter than usual. Just as when I was young, she seemed to know when I wasn’t telling the whole truth.
After rinsing the dinner plates, I was busy cutting slices of apple pie when a knock sounded at the door.
“Expecting someone, Mother?” She didn’t answer. Probably not hearing as well these days. Upon opening the front door, Sheriff Murphy’s familiar crystal-blue eyes met mine.
“Mary.” He tipped his hat. “Heard you were back and wanted to come say hello.”
Caught quite off guard, I didn’t respond.
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