Sufficient Grace

by Jessica Greyson

  A little after an hour they had returned.

  “See anything?” asked Mitch.

  “Nothing better than here.”

  “It gets worse downstream,” sighed Mitch, dismounting.

  “How long until the river goes down enough to cross?” asked Crystal, trembling fear in her voice.

  “August,” answered Clancy.

  “August. I am supposed to be at my father’s ranch I can’t wait for August, its months away.”

  “Crystal,” said Grace, coming to her side. “That is when the river goes down, not when we cross. He is trying to make light of the situation.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t think it is amusing.”

  I am sure you don’t, Grace thought, refraining from rolling her eyes.

  “So how do we cross?” asked Francine, now that Crystal seemed to have lost interest in the subject.

  “I hope you ladies don’t mind getting wet,” said Mitch.

  “Wet!” the girls chorused in distressed shock.

  “It is the only way to cross out here.”

  “How deep do you think it is?” asked Harriett. “I don’t want to get my boots wet.”

  “He means swim the river, girls.” said Grace with gentle matter of factness.

  “But we don’t know how to swim,” said Francine fear dilating her pupils.

  Grace looked questioningly at Mitch. “Will we swim with the horses?”

  He nodded. Anything that he said seemed to be alarming the girls.

  “It’s not that hard.”

  “How would you know!”

  “My brother and I did it three times in one day before.”

  “What!”

  “Well, we went across once and had such fun we did it again, but then we were on the wrong side of the river, so we had to cross again.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “Well, I sat in front side saddle style and my brother behind. When the water got high we slid off, I held onto the mane, and the saddle horn. It’s easy. All you have to do is hang on and kick.”

  “How wet did you get?”

  “Thoroughly. The river looked very much like this. Father scolded us for doing it three times; we wore out the horse more than we should have.”

  Four fearful girls and one fearless. This should be interesting. Jip will go first with supplies. Then I will have Grace go first to show them how it is done.

  Don’t make Grace go first keep her with you.

  But it doesn’t make any sense God.

  Keep her with you, and bring up the rear.

  All right. I will.

  Mitch was so lost in thought that he didn’t think to ask for seconds of Jip’s, now tasty cornpone; the rest of his companions made up for it, however. Once the meal was over, Mitch set the wheels of action in motion.

  “All right, we are going to cross the river. Jip, you go first with the supplies. Hank, Clancy, Clem, each take a lady in front of you like Grace described, and cross one at a time we can’t afford complications. I will bring up the rear with Grace.”

  “You sure, Mitch?” asked Clem, furrowing his brow.

  “Yes. I am sure.”

  “All right. I am just saying that it would make sense for Grace to cross to show them how it's done.”

  “Clem.” Mitch’s eyes said he did not want to be argued with.

  “I think the water is rising,” whined Harriet, her voice was always the first to be complaining.

  Mitch looked at the river. He was sure it hadn’t. “I don’t think so, Miss Harriet. You fellas didn’t see anything upstream that could cause something like that did you?”

  “Nah, just an old dead tree that had fallen in the water, but that wasn’t goin’ anywhere.”

  “We don’t have anything to worry about Miss Harriet,” reassured Mitch, but something was pulling at his gut. They needed to move quickly.

  Jip crossed, keeping the supplies dry on top of his head. He was a funny picture in the water but crossed with ease setting the girls frantic hearts somewhat at rest. Mitch stood at the river bank monitoring each one’s crossing with careful eyes, searching for any detail that might make their crossing more dangerous than it already was.

  Clem and Harriet were the last ones to cross before Mitch and Grace. Half way across, where the river was strongest, Harriet screamed in terror—at a stick floating in the water. She let go of the horse’s mane in her panic. Clem caught her arm and pulled her back towards the horse until she got a solid grip. Even then he did not let go of her until the horse safely reached solid ground.

  Mitch turned, looking at Grace and Danny who stood together a little further up the bank.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, approaching.

  Grace nodded, lowering her eyes behind the brim of his hat.

  Mitch knew by her reaction she could sense his nervousness. He had crossed rivers plenty of times before; why was he nervous now?

  “Do you want to mount first?” he asked her.

  “I’ll mount second. You get yourself settled.” There was unshaken confidence in her voice.

  Mitch settled himself behind the saddle and offered her his hand. Grace ignored it, grabbing the saddle horn, then placing her foot in the stirrup, she pulled herself into the saddle sideways. Mitch shook his head at her confidence. Of all the times for our roles to suddenly reverse it would be now.

  “Ready? she asked, an arch in her tone, she was enjoying this adventure.

  He took his hat off her head. She glanced behind him with a half-scowl.

  “My head is bigger than yours. It is less likely to fall off this way.” His hand grabbed the saddle horn.

  She turned around, and Mitch clicked to Danny. The water rose quickly around them and soon they were both floating. They were almost half way across when one of the men on the opposite shore shouted.

  “Watch out!”

  Looking upstream, Mitch groaned. “Oh, no.”

  An old tree was now barreling towards them at top speed its gnarly branches tumbling in the water.

  “Come on, Danny!” he urged, knowing it was near futile with no ground beneath his feet.

  Their kicking became stronger towards shore.

  “We aren’t going to make it. Hold on tight, swim hard.”

  The tree came with an ominous sweep towards them.

  “Duck down!” Mitch shouted as the branches twisted towards them.

  A moment later they were amongst the branches; Danny was kicking to set himself free from the tangle of branches they were caught in. Mitch felt his hat swept off his head. There was a cry of surprise from Grace, and she let go of Danny’s mane. Mitch reached out for her, but she disappeared beneath the water before he could grab hold of her.

  “Grace!” he called out reaching for her.

  She reached back fighting the current that pulled her away. The tree rolled as it went downstream pushing Grace under. A branch had caught her, pinned, and pulled her beneath the surface.

  Mitch launched into the water. The river grabbed him, sweeping him quickly downstream as he watched for any sign of Grace. Oh, God please keep her safe.

  He waited for her to reemerge.

  But she didn’t.

  Water weighed down his boots.

  With a quick kick, he freed his feet.

  Soon he was approaching the tree, Mitch ducked under the water, hoping for a glimpse of Grace. The water was as murky as apple cider; he couldn’t even see his hands striking out in front of him.

  God, where is Grace? He came up for breath; the water was still pulling them downstream. He searched for a sign; maybe Grace had come up for air maybe she was striking out for shore. No sign. God help us!

  A pair of hands shot out of the water, thrashing for something to grip. She barely appeared long enough to get half a gasp before the tree rolled in the water taking her under again.

  She had to be set free, or she would die. Soon.

  Mitch dove under the surface, he had to find her or she would be l
ost forever. Branches tore at him in the mud mixed water. He was hit full force in the chest, nearly expelling all the air out of his lungs. It was Grace. Was she struggling…or was it the water pulling her along in its wild currents? Mitch didn’t know. Grabbing Grace, he pulled away, but her body refused to move. She was caught. His hands fought the tree in the darkness searching for what held her. Precious seconds were ticking by.

  He found it.

  A branch had threaded through her braid, pulling her under the water. He tried to break the branch. He didn’t have the right leverage under the water. Pulling at the ribbon, he loosened her braid wrapping one arm around her. He pushed away from the tree towards the surface. He took in a deep breath of fresh air with relief. Making sure Grace’s head was above the water, he pulled away from the tree and towards shore. A call from the riverbank caught his attention. One of the men was riding along the bank, twirling a lariat. His vision was too blurred from the murky water to see who. Mitch blinked hard.

  “Catch!” the man on shore shouted, throwing the loop in their direction. It landed within an arm’s reach. Mitch latched on to it for dear life. In a matter of seconds, they were pulled onto shore. Mitch turned his attention to Grace. He didn’t even know if she was breathing.

  She wasn’t moving.

  He turned her on her side, pounding her back.

  Grace didn’t respond. Unbuttoning her tight collar Mitch tilted her head back, hoping it would make it easier for her to breath. Oh, God, please. Mitch didn’t want to take extra measures. He pounded her back. Her body responded. Coughing up the river, Grace gasped in fresh air only to cough more. Mitch sank down on the riverbank, relief washing over him; they were going to be all right.

  Clancy clattered down the shallow embankment. “You all right?”

  “Yeah, we’ll be fine. But I think we’ll need a little while, why don’t you fetch the posse down here.”

  “All right, I’ll be right back. Are you sure you are all right.”

  Mitch nodded. He was spent.

  The sound of hooves told of Clancy’s departure. Mitch turned his head to see how Grace was doing. Her face was silent. There was no fear or relief.

  “Why did you come after me?” she whispered.

  “You didn’t want to drown, did you?” he asked a little sarcastically. What other reason was there to come after her?

  Grace gave him a pained look then closed her eyes and turned onto her side.

  Mitch found his heart aching for her.

  Chapter 11

  Almost a half hour passed as they lay on the riverbank. Mitch had a lot of thinking to do as he caught his breath. Grace started to fall asleep.

  “Grace. You can’t fall asleep not now.”

  “I am so tired,” she whimpered.

  “Come on, you have to get up. You have to get warm.” With unpleasant realization, he remembered that his flint, steel, and pistols were all safely tucked in his saddlebags in his waterproof tin. He had no way of making a fire unless he wanted to rub two sticks together, and that would take too long in their wet state. He couldn’t even offer her a warm blanket or jacket.

  “Come on, stand up.” He took Grace’s hands and pulled her unwillingly to her feet.

  Grace stood only because she knew she had to. There was no desire to try.

  “Let’s get away from the river.” Mitch pulled her up the embankment and onto the prairie. They started following the tracks that Clancy’s horse had left in the dirt.

  “They aren’t very put together without you, are they?” asked Grace breaking into Mitch’s silent study.

  “Sometimes they are, sometimes they aren’t.” He wasn’t really in the mood to talk about it. “Grace. What did you mean by your question on the riverbank?”

  She looked at him blankly; trying to faze him.

  He stepped in front of her. “What did you mean?”

  “The last person who did something like that for me,” Grace gave a long pause, then looking up into his face; her voice dropped to a mere whisper, like the swish of prairie grass. “Died doing it.” She brushed past him picking up the pace. Mitch followed, knowing he wouldn’t get any further answers from her; but it sent his mind spinning. Is that why she is the way she is? Was the person that died close to her? Is that why she shuts people out? Too afraid of being hurt to open her heart again. Who was it? How did it happen?

  In a moment the posse came into view, damp and bedraggled but whole. Mitch and Grace both halted too tired to go any further. In a few minutes, the men had a roaring fire, and they all sat about drying themselves and the wet horse blankets.

  “We must be a sorry sight,” said Mitch glancing around the fire at the all of the damp people sitting around it.

  The men laughed, Grace smiled faintly, and Harriet and Francine burst into tears which soon spread to Crystal.

  Some of the men rolled their eyes, Mitch shook his head, what an awful thing for him to say. Never again in the presence of a lady will I say that we look like a sorry sight. After a good cry, they settled down to an occasional sniffle, moving closer to the fire.

  No one really noticed how close Francine was getting until it was too late. Grace was on her feet, pushing her away from the fire.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Your dress is on fire!”

  Francine screamed in horror and fled from Grace. In a twinkling, Grace pushed Francine to the ground. The men surrounded them with the still damp horse blankets, suffocating the fire. Francine lay on the field kicking and screaming, trembling with fear.

  Grace turned her over, pulling the frightened girl into an embrace. “You are all right. The fire is out. You are going to be all right.”

  Francine burst into fresh tears, and Mitch was surprised to see tears racing down Grace’s cheeks.

  How can she cry with someone like her? The girl has stabbed her verbally, punished her socially, and yet here she is crying for her pain. Mitch found his respect for Grace growing. Even in her misery, her heart bled for her enemies. Whatever had wounded her ran deep into her soul and she was trying to build walls around herself, walls to ward off the pain, maybe the guilt. Her armor was flawless with her schoolmates, she’d had years to develop it, but with people outside of those walls—she was still learning how to shut them out. Her imperfect armor had let him in just enough to see that there was something more, deeper, painful. She didn’t want to shut people out; but she felt the needed to shut them out, afraid of the pain it could cause her, and them. Oh, Grace. What are you going to do?

  The men, sick of tears dispersed. Grace had it under control. Mitch sat down in the long grass to watch, and wait.

  Soon Francine’s hysterics hushed.

  “Do you feel any pain, Francine?”

  “I don’t—don’t know,” she gasped.

  “I am going to see if there has been any damage.”

  Grace gently handled Francine’s dress. “You are lucky. It didn’t get to your skin it barely singed your petticoat.”

  “And my dress?”

  “You were planning on burning it after this trip weren’t you?” asked Grace, hesitancy in her voice.

  Francine turned to look at the damage herself. “I really should have a new one. Maybe I can get it in blue this time instead of gray. Papa likes me in blue.”

  “I think he would like that very much then and so would you.”

  In a few seconds, Francine stood up and rejoined the three other girls who greeted her with loads of sympathy. Grace didn’t move. Her face pulled with emotion and then forced itself into a smile that failed, leaving her expression blank.

  ~~~~~

  I nearly drown, and they don’t even ask me how I am feeling, and she barely burns her dress, and they give her odes of sympathy.

  She glanced at Mitch, “Can we get to Esperanza Springs tonight?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “Will we?”

  “Yes, Grace, we will.”

  ~~~~~

  She sigh
ed with relief that sounded like it had been held for a lifetime.

  Late that night never had a more weary, tired, and torn group of travelers entered, Esperanza Springs. Mitch sent Jip on home while the rest rode up to the hotel. Grace slid to the ground before Mitch could dismount.

  “Good to be on solid ground?”

  Grace nodded, “Do you know when the next coach comes through?”

  Mitch felt a slight stab. She was ready to move on already, but then again wouldn’t she have too? “About noon tomorrow.”

  Grace nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes following the road out of town.

  “I am going to see if they have rooms for you ladies.”

  Grace didn’t acknowledge him.

  .

  Chapter 12

  Grace sagged onto the bed; the hot bath and chicken dinner had been delicious. Noon, tomorrow. I just need to survive until then. I can avoid Mitch. Unless he comes to the coach but then I am leaving, and he can do nothing about it. I am GONE.

  Grace stood and went to her trunk smiling down at it. The girls had squealed in delight at the sight of them like they were greeting a long lost friend. She replayed the conversation from earlier that evening.

  “How did you get them here?”

  “The driver was only wounded and drove to Esperanza Springs after you were all taken. That is how we knew to come after you.”

  “What took you so long to find us then?” asked Francine, as if the moment they knew about them being lost; the posse should be hot on their trail.

  “After the shooting, the driver was unconscious for some time, and Esperanza Springs is nearly three hours from where you were captured. We had to round up a posse and enough supplies. By the time we had ridden to where you were captured, they had more than half a day’s ride on us.”

  Grace rummaged through her things until she found a pack of fat perfumed letters tied with a pink ribbon. Grace looked at the post mark. “She does live here. I wonder if she wrote anything about Mitch?”

  After scanning several letters, Grace smiled at the neatly scribbled handwriting “We have a new sheriff at least for now. The old one died, no one is particularly sad, though, no one liked him. He is young and handsome, but I am not sure I like him. Some of the men say he isn’t old enough for the job. I think they are just jealous, though he does have a daring reputation. Today the store got in the most darling…”