When Stanley let out a tremendous snort, Anna giggled the loudest. He rose from his chair and gathered his daughter into his arms, kissing her all over her porcelain-skinned face.
“I love you,” Anna said, pecking him on the tip of his nose with her finger. “It’s all right now, Pa.”
This was one miracle even Adahy wouldn’t find in his bag.
CHAPTER 41
Mary ~ Present, August 18, 1894
Except for the incessant chirping of grasshoppers and the constant chattering of Wesley and Anna, the lazy days of August were quiet.
It had been only a few weeks since the dreadful event with Sheriff Murphy, and I found myself constantly looking at the spot where he laid in front of my home—still filled with disbelief at what he had done to die so violently. Part of me was saddened for him. What a shame to lose his life over displaced and distorted love. The other part was relieved, free from his roaming eyes and unpredictable rage.
The local sheriff had been unable to find any relatives. In the time I knew him back home, he had never talked about family or even distant relatives. A telegraph to Mother to inform her of his death and see whether she had any information came up empty, except to confirm the talk in town. People said he had suddenly left his position, supposedly off to pursue better opportunities in the West. He was a loner in the world and left it the same way.
Out of a strange sense of responsibility, shortly after his death I stood next to the deep hole in the ground while a deputy and a man who looked like he could benefit from a few extra dollars tossed shovelfuls of dirt onto a pine casket.
At first, Daniel and Stanley were adamant I not attend the burial of a man who had caused such trouble and grief. Reserve that for those who lived a life deserving of honor and respect. Daniel’s words played across my mind.
Then, Stanley’s response reverberated like the echoing of a drum—one so guttural that it reminded me again of my own humanness. He that doesn’t sin gets to throw the first stone. At Stanley’s version of the words of Jesus, the three of us bowed our heads.
Over the last year, the small cemetery had grown like a persistent bed of weeds, sprouting tombstones and crooked, wooden crosses—watered by the tears of mothers and fathers, children weeping for lost parents, and the sorrow of husbands and wives as a final good-bye was whispered.
It was odd, but I was compelled to be present when David was laid in the ground. Perhaps my conviction grew from an odd mixture of knowing him in the past, the kindness he showed to Wesley and my mother, and a sickening sense of guilt that if not for me, he wouldn’t be dead. The memory washed over me again. David Murphy had saved my life a little more than a year ago when he pulled me from the river in Adair.
I stood between Daniel and Wesley and watched the last hints of the casket disappear under the soil. On that day, the three of us held hands, linked together by a love that was pure and unconditional. The best we could offer on this side of paradise.
*****
Past the garden, Wesley and Anna placed wildflowers on the black dog’s grave as they had done each day over the last weeks. The slight mound was sprinkled with petals from yellow bitterweed and blue-flowered chicory. A pile of stones rested at one end. Propped in the rocks was a small wooden cross, its pieces held together with twine.
Hero was scrawled in a child’s handwriting across the horizontal portion of the cross. The children had been determined to name the dog before Nate dug a deep hole in the dirt, wrapped the dog in canvas, and placed its body into the earth. In their opinion—and I suppose they were right—the once nameless mutt was partially responsible for saving my life.
Death. There had been too much of it. My thoughts turned to my dear friends, Lizzie and Joseph. In my heart, I knew she had most likely passed in the year since we had embraced and parted company. I imagined Joseph soon followed after his beloved wife if for no other reason than a broken heart.
Tuck. My mind lingered on my first love, my husband for ten years and the father of my children. It had been a year since he died. In so many ways, it felt like forever. My eyes rested on Wesley, and I wondered how often he thought of his father and if he remembered him well.
No longer could I recall Tuck’s voice, and his scent was long gone with his discarded clothes. Any hint of the touch of his cheek or the feel of his embrace had been erased from my memory. Even the clarity I once had of his dark eyes and curly hair faded from my mind—still present, but drifting further away as if into a fog. Strange how time plays tricks and steals away what I once thought would never disappear.
*****
At the touch of Daniel’s arms around my waist, I was brought back to the present.
“Are you all right?” Daniel spoke softly into my hair, and a tingle ran down my back. “You look so serious.”
“I’m fine. Just sorting through all the blessings I have to be thankful for. And, Daniel McKenzie, you are right at the top of the list.”
He grinned as though knowing there was probably much more on my mind.
“I promise. Everything is perfect.” My smile was to remind myself how comforting it was to know he was near.
Although my broken bones would mend, it was my heart that needed to be protected. Daniel was long overdue to return to Boston and his job, and I dreaded the announcement that it was time for him to leave. When each day waned or we were forced to rest from the intense heat that lingered into the far end of summer, I savored each moment to watch him paint. Like a magic wand, his brush cast a spell as it moved across the canvas. Paints blended and spiraled as they birthed new colors. Shapes and images became defined, emerging from the painting as if he had called them forth. I was enchanted by him and hoped the spell would never be broken.
At night, after his brushes were cleaned and paintings left to dry, supper was finished and the day’s work done, we walked hand in hand and shared our thoughts in whispers and laughs, hoping Wesley would stay fast asleep.
Later, when only the swooping owls, scurrying mice, and wandering coyotes were meant to be awake, Daniel walked me to the soddy door and kissed me gently—the perfect gentleman in the midst of a wild and untamed land.
I crawled into bed next to my sleeping child and thought of Daniel sleeping alone—except for the mule and cow—in the rebuilt barn. I imagined him holding me closely, dreaming about what our lives would be like if we were a family of three.
*****
When George Hardy insisted it was time to return to Boston, Daniel told me he couldn’t argue with him anymore.
“George has been a good friend. He’s stayed away from his wife and children much longer than he planned to give me more time with you. He even agreed to extend the story to cover Guthrie and Oklahoma City. He’s photographed and written an entire section about what’s transpired in those cities since the first run in 1889. Might earn himself an award or at least a promotion for bringing back a one-of-a-kind feature for McKelvey and the Globe.”
“I understand.” It was hard to keep my voice steady. “Besides, you have paintings to deliver to the paper, and your boss must be anxious to have the piece for himself and his wife. It’s …” I turned and looked out the window to avoid his eyes. “It’s of the sunset over the plains, just like outside our—”
Tears that I had forbidden to come now filled my eyes and blurred the orange, red, and pink skyline—a watercolor painting across the horizon. Behind me, hands gathered my hair to the side and lips kissed my neck and along my ear. How can he do this when he’s leaving? I wanted to push him away, scream that I didn’t love him and wanted him gone from my life. But I couldn’t. My true feelings were exactly the opposite. I was deeply in love with Daniel and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. But once again, he was leaving.
“Don’t look,” he whispered in my ear. “And don’t turn around until I say.”
I felt a bit foolish as the door shut behind me. I tried to peer out the window to see what he was up to. Just when my curiosity almos
t won out, the door opened.
“Don’t peek, I’ll tell you when.” Daniel spoke with such excitement I couldn’t imagine what he had brought into the house. After some shuffling, he spoke. “All right. You can look now.”
I wiped the stray tears from my cheek and slowly turned around. At first, nothing appeared unusual in the dimness of the room until my eyes moved to the ledge. My hand went to my mouth as I stared at a painting—one where the other had sat before it was destroyed.
“Oh, Daniel. It’s the best gift you could have given me. You’ve brought the sunset back into my home. Or is this the one you painted for Mr. McKelvey?”
“It’s for you.”
I stepped closer. “It looks so real. The colors are exactly like this evening, and the grasses that lead to the creek, they—” My eyes followed the meandering path until they reached two figures walking in the distance, holding hands while another smaller one ran ahead toward the peaceful water.
“It’s us,” Daniel spoke softly, wistfully. “You, me, and Wesley.”
“It’s the most wonderful painting in the world, but—” Whether imagined or real, a pain shot across my chest, and I realized a heart could truly break. “Don’t do this to me. Not to Wesley either.”
“Mary, look again.”
Through my tears, I looked at the painting.
“At the bottom,” he urged.
My eyes traveled downward to carefully painted words, tucked into lavender and lapis dotted flowers and swipes of emerald and forest greens bathing in the last light of day.
Be with me forever and a day ~ Daniel
Both of us were silent as I reread the words, although I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding.
“Are you asking me …” I looked at Daniel with wide eyes.
“Yes.” He knelt and took my hand. “Mary Roberts, will you be my wife so I can love you forever and a day?”
I wanted to find the right words—words as perfect as his painting—but all I could do was gaze into his eyes.
“We could marry within the month. After I arrive in Boston—”
“This is my home. I don’t want to leave.”
“I’m not asking you to do that.” He shook his head and seemed to search for the right words. “I never would have imagined my life in another place than what I’ve always known. But then I found you. And for some reason that can only be God’s plan, this is where I want to call home.” He kissed my hand. “But only with you.”
“But you’re leaving. What about your work at the Globe?”
Daniel stood and walked around the small room. He squeezed his chin as though in deep thought. “I’ve been there a long time and have given the paper my best work. Nothing goes on forever, and the way things are growing across the country, there are plenty of newspapers springing up.” He stopped in front of the painting. “Besides, I’m most passionate about painting. And you. There will be time to paint while we work the farm—maybe take on some cattle and sheep and expand the crops.”
“I’d want to continue teaching the children,” I added. “They’ve become my passion. And you too.” It felt good to smile and to say exactly what was in my heart.
“Then …” He held my hand again. “Will you marry me?”
“Daniel McKenzie, I would love to be your wife … forever and a day.”
We stepped outside and watched the brilliant colors intensify across the sky as though orchestrated only for us.
As the colors faded and darkened, Wesley bounded in from the field after keeping company with Jim as he grazed. Over supper, we shared our good news with him and talked about what life would soon be like for our family of three.
*****
At our invitation, the Cooleys and Andersons arrived before Daniel left for the station. We wanted to announce our engagement so the marriage could take place soon after Daniel returned.
Once the news was shared, cheers rang out, pats on the back and handshakes followed for Daniel, and I received a big kiss on the cheek from Lucy.
“I knew in my gut you two were meant for each other. Knew it from the first time I saw him. He was obviously smitten with you.” She gave me a tight hug. “When can we start planning your clothing and the food and—”
“Let’s see Daniel off first. Then we can begin,” I said as Lucy feigned a pout.
Daniel shook Stanley’s hand before the older man pulled him in and gave him a hug.
“I’m proud of you, Daniel. A smart man wouldn’t let a woman like Mary slip away.”
“No, sir. I had no intention of letting that happen. I’ll be sure to include a word about the Cooley Ranch in the article once I sit down with Hardy.”
“Better be more than a word. It’s a big ranch that deserves a big story in my opinion.” Stanley puffed out his chest. “And it wouldn’t hurt business either. Maybe some of those rich Bostonians will invest in my cattle.”
Before Daniel and Ben headed toward town in the wagon, Daniel huddled the men together. I couldn’t hear them, but I suppose he was asking them to keep a close eye on Wesley and me, keeping us safe until his return. When he finished with the men, he turned his attention to me.
“I’ll hurry back as soon as the apartment is closed down. There’s not much, but at least Finn and his bride-to-be can have all they want. Hopefully, that will help make amends with Elizabeth for Finn delaying their wedding until my return.”
“It’s too bad Finn and his new wife can’t be here for our ceremony. I know that would mean a lot to you.”
“It would indeed. Finn adds a unique touch to everything.” Daniel held me close. “Have you thought about asking your mother to come?”
“Yes. It would mean the world to me to have her here. To get to know you and see her grandson would be—”
“And to be with you, my love.” He kissed my forehead. “She’s known you longer than anyone, through the tough and easy times. This is going to be a grand time that the two of you need to celebrate together.”
“Daniel McKenzie, I love the way you think.”
“And I love everything about you.”
CHAPTER 42
Mary ~ Together, September 14, 1894
To help the days pass quickly, my time was spent mending the soddy like a pair of well-worn trousers and chasing away unwelcome mice and snakes. In the evenings, I wrote new lessons for the upcoming school session and read with Wesley until our eyes became heavy. Each day kept a steady rhythm—like methodic beats of a metronome—in anticipation of Mother’s arrival and Daniel’s return.
I visited Lucy often to plan what we would cook for the reception following the small ceremony at the town church. The menu would consist of roast veal, plenty of summer squash, green beans, juicy tomatoes, and freshly baked sour dough bread. Apple and peach pies, strawberry and raspberry preserves mixed into sweet cream, and baked custard would be a treat for dessert. Plenty of sweet cider would quench our thirsts after dancing to the lively music of the fiddle player.
“I’ve already spoken with the other women, and you’re not doing any of the cooking on your special day.” Lucy bounced Lila on her knee while we talked. The baby was plump and happy and squirmed to resume crawling on the dirt floor.
“You have your hands full with this one.” I brushed the dirt off her knees. “You need to spend your time keeping Miss Lila out of trouble, not cooking for me.”
“Nonsense. I wouldn’t miss the chance to help make your day special.” She gave in to Lila’s wiggles and set her on the ground. “Speaking of that, I have a surprise for you.” She opened a large trunk at the foot of the bed. “Close your eyes.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and waited.
“Okay, open them.”
Like an angelic apparition, Lucy held a delicate, lace and pearl-beaded wedding gown in front of me. The train pooled on the floor like a waterfall cascading into a hidden mountain spring.
“Oh, Lucy … it’s stunning.”
“I want you to wear it.”
“It will be fine without the veil. We’ll put lavender flowers in your hair and bouquet. No one will give it a second thought. It’s not like you have many other choices. In my opinion, the shop in town has awful styles.”
“Where did you get such a lovely wedding gown?”
“It was my mother’s.” She ran her fingers over the lacy neckline. “I wore it once and don’t plan on needing it again. Thomas is stuck with me forever.”
“Lila will need it someday.” The baby scooted around the legs of the table.
Lucy giggled as she watched her daughter. “But that’s a long time from now. Good thing.” She wiped a smudge of dirt from Lila’s forehead.
My fingers caressed the silky fabric—soft like new-fallen snow—and imagined how it would feel on my body. It would be so different than the worn cotton dresses of summer and the scratchy wool skirts in the winter.
“Put it on.” Lucy laid the wedding gown on my lap. “See for yourself.”
I took off my clothes and, with Lucy’s help, slipped on the gown and fastened the long line of buttons. When she positioned me in front of a full-length mirror—another find from Roy’s shop—I was speechless.
“Mary, it fits you like a glove.” She lifted the hem. “The brown boots will have to go, but other than that, it’s perfect. Don’t you think?”
I loosened my hair and then gathered it again into a twist as wavy strands framed my face.
“And that hair … you could wear a potato sack and be absolutely stunning.”
“You are the dearest of friends, Lucy Anderson.” I hugged her as I held back the tears that threatened to spoil this lovely dress. “Even though it will be a tiny wedding, will you be my matron of honor?”
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