“All right, y’all,” Caroline finally said. “We’ll never get her to town at this rate. And I allow as to how Dr. Gates is expecting us before midnight.” More nervous laughter, and then Hettie climbed up beside Caroline and they drove away, past the field of pumpkins and squash lying atop the earth like so many orange moons. The thought of orange would forever make Caroline smile.
People had been very complimentary of Alice Bailey’s creation using the orange remnants Martha had put on sale. But they’d been positively astounded when Mrs. Peterson unfurled hers. She called it “Prairie Stars.” No fewer than eighty stars—Caroline had counted them—glowed across the surface of a black quilt, and after sundown when the black faded into the shadows and the lamplight brushed across the surface of that quilt, it truly was as if stars twinkled in the night.
Alice Bailey was not pleased. The ladies were already wondering what she would create for the next Harvest Festival.
Next year… As she gathered her shawl about her against the autumn chill, Caroline wondered what her first winter in Nebraska would bring. What would it be like out at Four Corners when bitter winds blew and snow fell for days? Sometimes she thought Will Haywood’s storytelling talent included a morbid taste for disaster. For a while he’d concentrated on “long red tongues of fire” licking up the dry grass. Lately, though, he’d switched to blizzards, advising the ladies to tie a guide rope between the house and the barn, the house and the fruit cellar, the house and the well.
Caroline couldn’t imagine winds so high and snow so deep a person could get lost between their own house and barn, but Matthew agreed with everything Will said. He’d helped Ella with a fireguard, plowing the sod up in two concentric circles a few rods apart all around the Four Corners house, then set fire to the undisturbed grass in between. When Ruth mentioned Lucas Gray’s note about barrels by the well, Matthew said that was a good idea, too.
As for being ready for winter, Matthew thought the ladies were, what with the mountain of buffalo chips for fuel and the larder full of garden produce. “You can always bring the team into the house,” he said, and laughed when Ruth looked horrified by the idea.
“Well, if that’s what it takes to keep Red and the girls safe,” Sally said when the idea came up, “you’uns had best get used to the idea.” She grinned. “In fact, now that we don’t need Hettie’s loft no more, maybe—”
“No!” everyone shouted in chorus.
“Aw, I was just foolin’.” Sally grinned. “But mind, I won’t be foolin’ if it comes to keepin’ ’em from freezin’ to death.”
“What?” Hettie asked when Caroline chuckled to herself.
“Oh, I was just remembering Sally’s threat to bring the hens in the house if we get a blizzard.” When Hettie didn’t smile, Caroline realized the poor thing still had a white-knuckled grip on her carpetbag. She reached over to squeeze her hand. “It’s gonna be all right.”
“I know.” Hettie didn’t sound convinced.
“Dr. Gates has been brave enough to put down the bottle and follow you and risk everything all over again. I’d say life with a man like that is worth rescuing.”
Hettie nodded. “You’re right.”
“What is it Zita always tells us…forget what’s behind and press on with hope.” Caroline pulled her shawl closer.
“I’m doing my best,” Hettie said. “Wait until you see the cradle Matthew’s loaning us for the baby. It’s a work of art.” She loosened her grip on the carpetbag and took a deep breath. “I hope it’s a girl.”
Matthew ran his hand over the cradle’s smooth finish and then stood back to admire the soft luster he’d brought back to the surface of the wood. With the tip of his toe, he set it in motion. “Well,” he said, “what do you think?”
“It’s perfect.” Linney unfolded the simple baby quilt Martha had helped her make and laid it atop the red-and-white-striped feather tick.
Together, they carried the cradle out the back of Matthew’s carpentry shop, across the dry prairie, and toward the newly completed house waiting in the distance. “You all right?” he asked. “Say something if you need a rest.”
“I don’t need a rest, Pa”—Linney rolled her eyes—“and if we don’t hurry, they’ll beat us to the house.” She jiggled the cradle. “Giddyup!”
With a chuckle, Matthew moved into a slow lope. Dr. Gates was waiting for them on the porch, his hands braced on the railing, his eyes fixed on the horizon. Motioning for them to follow him inside, he led the way to the back bedroom. They set the cradle in the corner and stepped back.
“Well,” Matthew said to Linney, “what do you think? Can your pa build a decent house or not?”
Back out in the hall, Linney ran her hand over the carved newel-post.
“You’re welcome to see the upstairs, too,” Dr. Gates said. “There’s two more rooms up there. I just wanted to keep things convenient for Hettie by using the main floor for right now.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Linney gazed up the stairs.
“Not a bit. Your pa builds fine houses. Take a look.”
Matthew followed her upstairs. On the landing above he decided he couldn’t wait any longer to ask the question again. “So. What do you think?”
“It’s wonderful.”
He gestured from one room to the other. “Which room do you like best?”
Linney didn’t hesitate. “The one with the window seat.”
“All right. The one with the window seat it is.” When Linney looked confused, he said, “I’m building ours next.” He grabbed her hand and walked her toward the front of the house. Pointing out the window, he said, “Right there. I got my last check for that final pile of pelts a few days ago. So it’s official. Town Lot Number Ninety-three belongs to Matthew Ransom.”
If he’d known how much joy a man could give just by buying a square of Plum Grove dirt, maybe he would have done this long ago. On the other hand, as Linney let out a squeal and grabbed his neck and he swung her around, Matthew realized that this was exactly the right moment for him to be doing this. Any earlier, and it would have been out of guilt. Now it was for all the right reasons, and for just the right future, if he had anything to say about it.
“There’s something else about the house,” he said as he set Linney down. “Something very important. And I don’t want you to answer me right now. I want you to think about it. All right?”
Linney nodded. Matthew took a deep breath. “What would you think of our sharing that new house with someone? I haven’t said anything about it to anyone else. So if you—”
Linney’s eyes grew large, and she blurted out, “It’s Caroline, isn’t it! You want to ask Caroline to marry you! Oh, Pa!” Once again, she flung her arms around him and gave him a hug. “It’ll be wonderful. We can plant flowers together and cook together and make quilts together and—”
While Linney was going on and on about what she and Caroline could do together, Matthew was watching the buggy headed toward them across the prairie. His heart began to hammer. He looked back at his daughter. “Well, before you make all those plans, don’t you think we’d better find out if she’ll say yes?”
“She’ll say yes.”
“You sound very sure.”
“I am.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
“Oh, Pa.” Linney shook her head. “Did you pay any attention when you two were waltzing at the Harvest Dance?”
Well, now that he thought about it…he had.
Linney and Ruth had hurried over to the mercantile—the latter to get what Caroline supposed was yet another one of Lucas Gray’s missives, and Linney apparently worried that Martha would be upset with her for being gone so long. Hettie and Forrest had gone over to the clinic to discuss what furniture should be moved into their new parlor, and here Caroline stood with Matthew on the front porch of a house so lovely it made her heart ache. “It’s so beautiful,” she said. “You should be very proud.”
Matthew shru
gged. “I think I might try a different shape on the porch finials next time. On the other hand, it’d be nice to build with brick. Will said the new courthouse is going to be brick. That would definitely make for a warmer house. Of course, I’m no bricklayer, but I could do more with the railings and the trim inside if—” He broke off. “Which would you want? If you were choosing?”
“Oh, I don’t suppose that’d matter much,” Caroline said. Her heart began to beat a little faster. “A fancy house isn’t what’s important.” Her accent was getting worse. She took a deep breath. “I mean, the fancy brick house in St. Louis wasn’t worth anything compared to how I feel about the Four Corners soddy.”
Matthew nodded. He tilted his head and looked down at her. “Well, I’m thinking brick would be the way to go someday. But I’m not sure I want to wait until I can afford brick. And Linney’s already approved of what I’d like to do. Which is”—he put his hands at her waist and drew her close—“to see you in every house I live in from the day you marry me until the day I die.” He leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. She shivered and pulled him closer. “Marry me,” he said, and kissed her neck again, then worked his way up to her jawline…the tip of her chin…and then he stopped and looked into her eyes again. “Marry me soon.” He kissed her lips.
She said yes.
“What do you mean he’s gone?” Ruth looked down at Sally, who’d just come out of the soddy as they drove up from town.
“He rode up practically in tears, and by the time he finished tellin’ us what was goin’ on he was in tears. Said the cattle was sick and he’s afraid it’s Texas Fever and two were already down and he was goin’ to Lucas to see what to do about it. He didn’t even step off the horse, Ruth. Just lit out.”
Ruth looked toward the north. That boy. When she got her hands on him he was going to get a talking to the likes of which he would never forget. She sighed.
“I’ll ride with ya if you want to go after him—and I expect you will.” Sally grinned. “Just give me time to get my new dress on.”
Ruth hesitated. It was asking a lot of Calico to head out on a twenty-mile journey when she’d already done as much or more going to Plum Grove and back today. And Jackson might be rash, but the truth was he knew the way to the ranch very well, Sam was a good pony, and she’d never hear the end of it if she chased after him like a hysterical mother.
Lucas already said the boys were planning some sort of initiation rite for him at the spring roundup. She could just imagine the merciless teasing he’d get about his mama following him everywhere if she drove up there yet tonight. What was it that Lucas had said once…something about outfitting her with boots and a hat and letting her trail after him? She shook her head. “No. Just because Jackson’s being headstrong doesn’t mean you and I have to go charging across the prairie like two mother hens.”
“You sure?” Sally seemed disappointed. “’Cause I could be ready in a whip-snap-minute.” She grinned. “And ain’t it sorta nice to have an excuse to see…folks?”
Not if he’s going to tease me mercilessly about being an overprotective mother.
No, the more Ruth thought about it, the more it seemed right to stay put. Almost impossibly difficult, but right. Lucas already called Jackson a “young man,” not a “boy.” Ruth supposed she should let him be a young man in this case. His cattle were sick. He needed help. And he’d gone after it. She had to admit she liked very much the idea that Jackson’s first thought was to go to Lucas for help. With a sigh, she climbed down from the buggy. And then she remembered. “Caroline has some news….”
She might have said all the right things in broad daylight, but now that the sun had gone down, and Jackson was “out there somewhere,” Ruth couldn’t sleep. He’d started for the ranch early enough in the day to have already arrived. He might even have run into one of the crews putting up fence. He knew the way. There was nothing to worry over. Still, in the night Ruth wished there was such a thing as an invisible telegraph wire that could send her a message. With a sigh, she turned over in bed. The moon was high now, the night so still she could hear the windmill creaking. Sometimes the rhythmic sound was comforting. Tonight was not one of those nights. She gave up.
Zita was sleeping up in the loft now, and so Ruth padded into the living area, lit a lamp, and sat down at the table with her Bible. She opened it and took out the cabinet photo of Lucas. It made her smile. She was flat-out, all-in, head-over-heels in love with that man. God was good. So very good.
Laying the photo aside, she stood up and walked to the front door and tiptoed outside. And that’s when she saw the fire. Not actual flames…but a red sky…the very kind of sky Will Haywood said signaled something they called a head fire…the kind of fire that raced across the prairie for miles, jumping creeks and lapping up everything in its wake…sometimes even outracing the fastest horse. Clutching at the door, Ruth barely stifled a scream, but she couldn’t scream because she couldn’t breathe.
Backing against the sod bricks that formed the front of the house, Ruth stared at the horizon, her hand at her heart. You will not faint. If you faint, you’ll be of no use to your son. Don’t faint. Get back inside. Get dressed. Get…going. GO. GO. GO.
None of the women sleeping in the house behind her would knowingly let her race straight toward a fire. They’d tie her to a kitchen chair if they had to. They mustn’t know. You have to go…but they mustn’t know.
As she made her way trembling across what they had started calling the parlor and caught sight of Lucas’s cabinet photo, Ruth whirled back about and looked toward the north. Don’t think about it. Don’t think. Just do. She turned down the lamp and tiptoed into her room. Pulling yesterday’s dress off the hook by the door, she collected stockings and shoes off the floor and crept outside and toward the barn.
She dressed in the barn, barely managing to button the row of tiny buttons marching up the front of the red calico dress. Creeping about like a horse thief, she backed Calico between the traces, wishing she could trust herself to simply jump astride the little mare bareback, knowing that would be the height of this night’s foolish decisions. But she had to do this. If—No. Do not think IF. Do the next thing. Buckle the harness. Check it again. Bring your nightgown so you can wrap the mare’s head if you get caught in the—If you need it.
As quietly as she could, Ruth led Calico and the buggy away from the barn, past the house, wincing with every turn of the squeaking wheel, watching for movement in the house, knowing that if anyone called out, she’d only hurry away faster. Please don’t let them hear. Let them sleep. Let me go.
She’d crossed the firebreak before she dared climb aboard and take up the reins. Finally, she urged Calico into a lope. The hardest thing was not to crack the whip and set the mare to running. But she knew better. They had a long journey ahead, and she needed the mare to make it every step of the way. As the moon shone down on Four Corners, Ruth headed north toward the red sky.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
…Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
PSALM 30:5
This was nothing like that other desperate drive north to tend an injured rancher last spring. She’d been a different woman back then. A woman whose life centered on one thing in the future—getting her son an education. Lucas Gray had been little more than another human being who needed help she could give. That Ruth Dow was doing her duty like a good soldier’s wife should. This Ruth Dow was not only a desperate mother but also a woman in love. A woman so terrified that as the buggy wheeled across the hills, she began to weep. Pay attention to the mare. Drive carefully. Here. Stop and let her drink. Yes, that’s it. Get a drink yourself.
If she pulled outside of herself and let Ruth Dow, the soldier’s wife, narrate the night…tell her what to do…if all she had to do was obey the voice in her head…then she would be all right. Snippets of things Zita had said over the months also came to mind. Things about hoping and God’s everlasting ar
ms. Things about God being a shelter. A high tower. A solid rock. The solid rock. What was it Jeb Cooper always sang? It was absurd to sing along this desperate journey, but if it kept her from panicking—Ruth sang, “On Christ the solid Rock I stand. All other ground is sinking sand.”
Long before Ruth could smell the smoke, Calico stopped, tossed her head, and tried to turn back. “I’m sorry.” The buggy whip came out. “We can’t turn back. I can’t let you—” Ruth won the battle. The mare didn’t like it, but she kept going.
The first time a deer ran past, Ruth didn’t think much about it. A grunt, a flash, and the creature was past them before she realized what it was. But then came another and another. And then antelope. Antelope were shy. Flighty. In fact, until now all Ruth had seen of antelope was a flash of white as they lifted their tails and darted away far in the distance.
Calico stopped again. This time she would not be moved. She trembled. Suddenly the horse took off again, and it took all of Ruth’s skill to keep her from bolting. Ruth could smell it now. If I can smell it, what must it be like for the horse?
She saw the first injured animal at dawn. A stag, one side of its coat singed, the flesh beneath it darkened. And then…oh, then…blackened earth as far as she could see. Calico whinnied when her hooves first touched the burnt prairie. Again, she stopped. This time, she refused to move until Ruth laid the whip on.
“I’m so sorry, Calico…so sorry…but we have to keep going. We have to keep going.” When the mare finally moved, it was more sideways than forward. Fearing the buggy would overturn, Ruth kept at it with the whip until finally they were headed north again…always north.
The first time she saw a dead bird she didn’t realize she was looking at a charred carcass. The flames can catch up with a running horse. She began to cry again. Unable to form words, she said God’s name over and over and over again. Calico trotted on.
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