He lifted my hand and gently kissed my fingers. My lips longed for his, and I knew Wesley would need to fall asleep soon.
*****
The next morning came quickly, and I hoped Daniel had slept comfortably in the half-finished barn. The door and windows weren’t set, but the roof was complete, and fresh hay covered the ground.
Excitement surged within me when a knock sounded on the soddy. I smoothed my hair and opened the door.
“Good morning, Mary.” He gazed at me with eyes full of love.
“And good morning to you, sir. Did you sleep well?” As I plucked a strand of hay from his shirt pocket, he held my hand over his chest. My legs weakened.
“I slept very well, especially dreaming about you.”
Jim brayed from the yard, breaking the almost hypnotic spell that was forming between us.
“But Jim may be asking why he was second fiddle to me for a spot in the barn.”
The scent of frying bacon and flapjacks wafted from the stove. A hearty breakfast waited in anticipation of the Cooleys’ early arrival and another day of hard work.
Just as the sun lifted over the hill, not two, but four horses approached. A stocky cow swaggered behind one of the horses, tethered by a rope like an anchor to a ship. Stanley Cooley. It was about time he paid me a visit. And Anna. Wesley would be thrilled.
“Mornin’, Mary.” Stanley tipped his hat. “Thought I’d better see for myself if the boys’ workmanship is up to my standards.”
“They’re fine builders. And truly, thank you for the barn and the milking cow.”
The cow looked at me with her big, brown eyes. “She’s amazing.” I rubbed her long ears as her tail tried its best to swish away pesky flies.
“Stanley Cooley,” I said, “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Daniel McKenzie.”
Daniel shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Cooley.”
“Likewise,” Stanley said. “Hear you’re a reporter.” His usual squint seemed to size Daniel up from boots to hat.
“Partially. Mostly a landscape journalist. Somewhat of a dying breed, so they say. I work with the writers and photographers then paint the subjects for the paper.”
“Then you’re an artist?” Stanley asked. “Hmm.” He rubbed his hand over a stubbly beard. “Boys, better get to work before the sun cooks you alive.”
“How about some breakfast first?” I offered. “Flapjacks and bacon are waiting.”
Nate and Ben started for the house with Anna and Wesley trotting behind.
“I’ve been outvoted,” Stanley grumbled. “But it sure smells good.”
*****
By late afternoon, the barn was complete with the added help of Daniel and Stanley. The cow occupied the first stall, and Wesley led Jim into the other.
“I don’t think Jim likes it,” Wesley whispered to me. “He looks awfully sad in there.”
“He’s fine. I’m sure—”
A loud braying echoed in the barn.
“See, he likes it better outside where he’s free.” Wesley stepped toward the barn door, but I caught him by his shirt collar.
“You leave him be. Those poor men have worked for two days.”
Wesley wiggled out of my grasp. “Maybe when he gets to know Becky, he won’t mind being locked up next to her.”
“Becky?” I looked around, wondering what I had missed.
“Me and Anna named the cow. It’s a good name. Just like Tom Sawyer’s friend, Becky Thatcher.”
“Anna didn’t say that name, did she?”
“No, but she likes it too. Remember, I can tell what she’s thinking.” Wesley ran off to play with his friend.
Stanley tapped me on the shoulder. “Do you see over there?”
Just beyond the house, Daniel had propped a small easel earlier that morning with a swatch of canvas flapping lazily in the breeze. A wooden box filled with brushes and paint lay open in the grass. Next to the box was Anna. She was on her hands and knees, peering into the box as if she’d discovered a treasure. Delicately, she lifted a brush and ran her fingers through the bristles. She raised it to her cheek, and, like petting a kitten, ran it over her skin, back and forth, back and forth.
When Daniel stepped from the house, she dropped the brush in the grass and stood.
“Do you like to paint?” Daniel kneeled to her eye level. “I can teach you if you’d like.” He lifted the brush to Anna.
She shrugged and held her arms to her chest.
“He’s scaring her,” Stanley grumbled and took a step toward his daughter.
I raised my hand to stop him. “No, wait.”
Anna slowly offered her hand and accepted the brush. While Wesley climbed and jumped from the nearby plow time and time again, she watched Daniel prepare his palette—brilliant colors like the promise of a rainbow after a storm. As Daniel brought the blank canvas to life, Anna mimicked each stroke and swirl of his brush like a shadow cast beside the artist in the late afternoon sun.
I pretended not to notice, but Stanley wiped tears from his eyes. He must be thinking of Flora … and what his and Anna’s life could have been.
Ben pulled a wadded kerchief from his vest pocket and handed it to his father. “Time to head home, Pa. Got plenty to do at the ranch.”
Stanley nodded and called Anna to join them.
She frowned at him, then held her brush up to Daniel.
“It’s yours, sweetheart.” He wrapped her fingers around the handle. “Bring it with you next time. It will be your turn to paint.”
Anna bobbed her head before she turned and ran to her father. He kissed the top of her head and plopped her onto the pony.
“Mary.” Stanley straightened his hat. “Enjoy that barn and take good care of the cow.”
“We will. Becky will be milked each morning and evening.”
Wesley shook Stanley’s hand. “And Jim’ll learn to like the barn soon enough.”
“You’re a fine young man.” Stanley slapped his thigh with his hat and chuckled. “Good animal namer too. Becky and Jim … hmm.”
Daniel shook hands with each of the men. “It’s good to see a group of respectful and kind neighbors. That’s how it ought to be. Mary and I both appreciate what you’ve done lately.” He pointed to the barn. “Glad the past is gone.”
“You planning to stay on?” Stanley questioned Daniel, then glanced in my direction. “Being a friend of Mary’s and all.”
“I hope to,” Daniel said.
Stanley straightened his hat. “But sleeping in the barn with the animals isn’t the best accommodation. The hotel or boarding house in town might have a room if you plan to stay on longer.”
“The Globe is renting a room for my colleague and me. Hardy’s been getting familiar with the area, and then we head south toward Perry. After that, we’ll make our way back here. Might want to include your ranch in the story if that’s okay with you.”
Stanley tugged on the brim of his hat and didn’t respond. These Cooleys were a private bunch for sure.
“In fact, best be on my way before dark. I have a close friend in town I’d like to see. Mr. Bartholomew Reid. You might know him. He’s an attorney.” Daniel mentioned Bart’s name matter-of-factly, and I had to conceal my smile.
“May have heard the name, but can’t recall anything past that,” Nate said.
“Me neither,” Ben added. “Those lawyers have sprung up like weeds.”
Stanley huffed and adjusted his hat again. “Too many to count.”
“He’s a fine one if you ever need someone on the honest side of the law.”
The men rode away without another word.
“That was witty, Mr. McKenzie.”
“Don’t want the Cooleys to get too comfortable. Let them know we’re smarter than they are. I’d like to believe their intentions are only good moving forward. And that Anna, she’s precious. But it’s a rough world, Mary, and you know that’s especially true out here.”
“You’re right. But
I feel more comfortable with the Andersons on one side of my property and the Cooleys on the other.”
Creases—or in Mother’s words, worry lines—ran across Daniel’s forehead.
“We’ll be fine.” I tried to reassure him.
His brows pinched together. “It pains me to leave the two of you even for a little while, but I need to get this story—”
“I know how to use the gun if needed. Besides, Tom’s brother Roy said more lawmen are being assigned to the territory. Necessary since things are changing fast.”
Daniel took my hands and pulled me closer. “Now that we’re together, I don’t want to let you go.”
With my arms wrapped around his waist and my head resting on his chest, I listened to the rhythm of his heart. For the first time in my life, I was fully alive.
CHAPTER 39
Mary ~ Trouble, July 10, 1894
I bolted upright at the sound of footsteps outside the window. Could it be an animal? The wind? Maybe it was only my imagination playing cruel tricks.
Wesley lay at my side, eyes closed and small body curled in his usual position under the quilt. I heard the sound again and held my breath. Doolin gang? Outlaws? Black and white images ran through my mind of the evil faces posted on the yellowed sheets hanging outside Roy’s store. Daniel? Surely, he wouldn’t come in the middle of the night and startle me like this.
In the darkness, the faint silhouette of the rifle reminded me the gun leaned against the wall next to the door—out of reach from my bed. I cursed myself for my stupidity. I slipped out of bed and tiptoed toward the gun. Perhaps Jim had pushed the barn door open, or the wind helped to lift the latch, and he was wandering in the yard. Even though it was possible, my instincts told me otherwise.
Willing myself to remain still and listen, it felt like forever next to the closed door, the heavy gun resting on my hip. Most likely an animal, but I needed to make sure the mule wasn’t out.
The blackness of the night met me as the door inched open. The moon was only a sliver, and the darkness was heavy, forcing me to blink a few times to focus. The outline of the barn—and what appeared to be its closed door—rose out of the ground. Holding the gun close to my chest, I stepped outside and turned in a slow circle.
“Anyone out here?” My voice wavered. “If so, my gun won’t ask who you are.” I was probably talking to a passing coyote.
When only the wind answered back, I went back inside and crawled into bed next to my son. Sleep escaped me even as daylight slipped in the window. My mind rehearsed the question, What—or who—had paid me an unwelcomed visit?
While Wesley slept, I wrapped myself in an extra blanket and went outside. It had not been my imagination. Footprints ran along the side of the house where the soil held to any sparse moisture. Not an animal’s, but clearly those of a man.
At breakfast, over a shared bowl of oatmeal, my thoughts were troubled about who would trespass on my property and be bold enough to sneak around the house at night. Not wanting to scare Wesley, I said nothing of the happenings. Surely the Cooleys weren’t up to no good again. To be sure, I decided to pay them a visit and ask for myself.
*****
At first, Stanley was offended when questioned about his sons’ whereabouts the previous night. But when he considered what I had been through and the reality of possible danger, he offered to have both of the boys watch over my home until Daniel returned.
“They can take turns sleeping in the barn. No one is going to want to cross my sons if anyone is being threatened.”
“I appreciate your concern and the offer. But we’ll be all right. Who knows, it could have been someone who lost his way in the dark.”
“And you believe that?” Stanley shot me a stern look. “Could it have been that Daniel friend of yours?”
“Absolutely not.” My arms crossed my chest in defiance. “He is not that kind of man. Besides, he won’t be back for close to a week.”
“I don’t know.” He scanned the horizon as we stood on his front porch, as though watching for a suspicious person to come along at any time. “My gut’s telling me something isn’t right.” He sniffed the air like a hunting dog. “But I can’t place it just yet.” Even though Stanley couldn’t have been much older than fifty, he had a fatherly sort of way, even toward me. “You never know. A man does things he’s never thought possible when he loves a woman.”
Now I gave him a look. “What kind of things?”
“Mary, don’t play the fool. Anyone can see Daniel’s in love with you.” He wagged his finger in the air. “And don’t act like you haven’t got the same feelings for him.”
I grinned at the scolding. He was right, and I could hardly wait for Daniel to return.
“At least take one of the dogs home with you. They bark up a storm whenever someone steps on the property.” A large, black one with a white spot between its eyes and one crooked ear raised its head from where it lay dutifully near Stanley.
“So I noticed. That one nearly scared Wesley and me to death this morning.”
Stanley nudged the mutt with his boot. “Just her way of saying hello.”
*****
My nerves calmed over the next few days when everything seemed back to normal. It helped having the dog tied up in the front yard. As though she understood her duty even at my home, she remained watchful and alert, just as Stanley promised.
Wesley wanted to name her, but I reminded him she wasn’t ours to keep and would soon go back to the Cooleys. When he asked why we had the dog in the first place, I sidestepped a bit, mentioning she was only here to keep us aware of coyotes and wolves if they roamed too close to the house.
*****
The next day, after returning from a visit to play with baby Lila, Wesley and I were shocked to find the dog hunched and growling in the yard.
“Stay away from her, Wesley. She’s acting like she doesn’t know us.”
Stepping toward her with caution, I spoke softly. “It’s all right, girl. We aren’t going to hurt you.” I knelt down and unwrapped the remaining part of a sandwich from lunch at the Andersons. At first, she growled, then whimpered when she smelled the smoked turkey.
“Here you go.” The torn piece of meat invited her to sprawl out on her stomach and devour the food.
“Something scared her, Mama. She never acts that way.”
“I think you’re right. But she sure was hungry. Why don’t you fetch some jerky from the kitchen?”
Wesley had barely stepped inside when he let out a yell.
The house was in shambles. The table and chairs were overturned. The bed was ransacked, and the linens lay in a heap. Food was spilled and scattered across the dirt floor, and the books—all but one—had been knocked off the ledge and lay haphazardly and smudged in the dirt. The photograph of my mother gazed at me through broken glass as though a spider had cast its web across her exquisite face.
Wesley’s mouth hung open, and he began to cry. “My books are ruined.” He lifted the newest, Beautiful Joe, as torn pages fluttered to the ground.
My heart ached for Wesley, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from the corner of the room. My painting lay crumpled and torn, the center punched through by an angry foot or fist. My shaking hands picked up what remained of the drooping, lifeless canvas.
Split nearly in two, my rocking chair from William was splintered and broken, an ax dropped by its side. No wonder the dog was growling. The poor thing was tied up and couldn’t defend our home.
My arms wrapped protectively around Wesley. His body shook as he tried to catch his breath, and I held him tighter. Tears poured down his face and soaked into my blouse.
“It’s going to be fine,” I said, stroking his back. “You’re all right.” Although my words were directed to my son, the reassurance was desperately needed for both of us at that very moment.
*****
“No more arguing!” Stanley slammed his fist on his kitchen table, making the cups clatter and spill coffee onto the tab
lecloth. “Someone has something against you, and they aren’t messing around.”
Whether the destruction of my house was against me personally or my home happened to be in the path of someone’s rage—like the dangerous tornadoes that ravaged the plains and anything in their paths—we had avoided all of that to this point. I didn’t plan to argue with Stanley.
“I’m going into town and demand the sheriff get out here and do something about what’s happened.” He paced across the living room. “If the law won’t help, then I’ll gather up my own posse.”
Ben stepped forward. “Pa, let us go. You don’t like going where there’s other folks.”
“We’ll go right away,” Nate added.
Stanley faced his boys with a somber expression. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, especially since Flora died. It hasn’t been easy for you either. In a way, you’ve lost both your mothers just like I’ve lost both my wives.” He pulled his kerchief from his pocket and swiped it across his face. “But it’s time for me to start acting like a grown man again.” He looked at me with an odd expression. “We’ve got a good friend here in Mrs. Roberts. And she’s more like family now, her and her little boy.”
He headed for the back door. “And we’re not going to let anything happen to the people we love.” He lifted his hat from the hook. “Boys, saddle up. The Cooleys are heading to town.”
*****
After the sheriff circled the house a few times and kicked aside a broken dish on the floor, he pulled a small, leather notebook from his shirt pocket and made a few notes.
“Sorry you’ve got this mess to clean up, ma’am.” He removed his hat and scratched his head. “The more people that come, the more trouble we have. But I can’t say I’ve seen this sort of problem. Did you say anything has gone missing?”
“No, it doesn’t appear someone was stealing from me. Whoever did this was evidently mad more than anything else.”
“We did have a band of troublemakers a while ago. Nothing too dangerous but taking some things here and there and vandalizing property. It could be a few of them stayed around.”
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