The Lost Girl

by Liz Harris

  ‘Why are you here now, Charity? You not work till later,’ Chen Fai asked in surprise as she ran into the store, a discordant jangle of wind chimes following in her wake. She came to a stop in front of him, and struggled to catch her breath. ‘But I’m very pleased to see you,’ he added quickly, putting down the pen with which he’d been marking dried apricots at fifteen cents a pound.

  ‘It’s not work, Chen Fai,’ she said when she could breathe more easily. ‘I’ve gotta send a letter. It’s a letter to Joe, askin’ him to come back.’ She waved her letter at him.

  He saw the excitement that radiated from her eyes, and felt a wave of panic shoot through him. ‘To Joe?’ he echoed, his voice hollow.

  She nodded vigorously. ‘Yup. Isn’t that a surprise? I can’t believe I’m finally gonna see him again. I wonder what he looks like. He’ll be back very soon, I hope. Well, maybe not that soon – he’s a long way away at the moment. He’s in Kansas.’ She beamed at Chen Fai.

  In spite of the warmth of her smile, he felt cold.

  He stared hard at her face, at the expression in her eyes, and the fear he’d been trying to smother for so long broke through and filled his mind with dread.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she said, laughing. ‘I’m not gonna ask to work fewer hours – Joe will have things to do, too.’ She hugged herself. ‘But just the thought of bein’ able to spend some time with him again, and of being able to tell him what I want to without havin’ to write it in a letter – I reckon it’ll soon be like he never left.’

  She paused for breath, and looked around her, her happiness lighting up the store.

  A piece of paper fell to the floor from the counter, unnoticed. ‘But he did leave,’ he said flatly. ‘And you are asking him to come back to Carter now?’

  ‘Not me – it’s Eliza Culpepper. I guess you’ll have already heard that Seth’s ill. Well, they want Joe to come back and run the livery stable till Seth’s fit enough to run it himself again. As you may have guessed,’ she said with a giggle, ‘I’m real excited at the thought of seein’ Joe again. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘I’m very happy for you,’ he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He went round the end of the counter, came up to her and took the letter from her. ‘I send this to Joe now,’ he said. He stood a moment, staring down at Joe’s name, then he looked back at her. ‘You like Joe very much,’ he said quietly. ‘I think you feel about him like you would feel about a big brother.’

  She stared at him, startled. ‘No, I don’t!’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s my friend. But he’s not like a brother and never has been. No, I’ve never thought of him like that.’ She frowned slightly. ‘And I’m sure he’s never thought of me as bein’ like a sister to him.’ She looked back at Chen Fai, her eyes questioning, then her face cleared and she smiled. ‘No, Joe’s a friend; that’s all. Big brothers are like you are to Su Lin. You’re a good brother to her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said solemnly. He paused. ‘You are very good friend of Su Lin, and we do many family things together, you, me and Su Lin. Maybe you think about me as if I am a big brother to you, too.’ He paused. ‘Do you?’ he asked. His gaze returned to the letter to Joe.

  Hearing the awkwardness in his voice, and suddenly conscious that they were alone in the store, she felt a strange sensation spread through her. Her heart seemed to stop beating, stilled by a sudden awareness she couldn’t put into words. Slowly she shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘You think of me in same way as you think of Joe?’ His eyes were still on the letter.

  She shook her head again. ‘No; I don’t.’

  He raised his eyes from the letter to stare into her face.

  At the expression that flooded his gaze, she drew in her breath, and held it.

  ‘When I am in room on my own, Charity, I think of many ways to say this. Is very strange for me to be saying this. In China, this is for go-between to say. But we in America now and there is no go-between. Su Lin is in back room with honourable father’s second wife, and honourable father is in tong. So we now alone. Maybe now is good time to say something I wait long time to say.’

  She gulped. Staring up at him, her lips parted slightly.

  ‘I very happy if you will be my wife, Charity,’ he said. ‘Will you?’

  A formless thought flooded her mind, and panic rose within her. She tried to reach out and grasp the thought, but it was too vague, too insubstantial for her to take hold of it and give it shape, and slowly it faded, taking her panic with it.

  She looked up into the warm brown eyes of Chen Fai, the man who’d shown her nothing but kindness from the moment he’d discovered her friendship with Su Lin, the man who’d increasingly tried to protect her from the taunts of the whites and who could be trusted to keep her safe, the man who was offering her a home where she’d be welcome for the rest of her life, and where she wouldn’t cause them to be shunned by their community.

  ‘I guess so,’ she said, and she gave him a shy smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Two weeks later

  Late March, 1885

  ‘Ethan,’ Joe called, hurrying across to Ethan, who was brushing his saddle blanket. ‘I’ve gotta go back to Carter, and I’ve gotta go real soon.’

  Ethan stood still, brush in hand, and stared at Joe in surprise. ‘How come? I thought we were gonna head to San Antonio as soon as the snows had melted, and then ride the Chisholm Trail to Caldwell. We’ve already been taken on for the drive.’

  ‘And that would still be my plan if I hadn’t just gotten this letter.’ He held up the piece of paper in his hand. ‘I reckon it’s the shortest letter Charity’s ever written. They’re askin’ me to get back home as fast as I can. You remember the man I told you about, Seth Culpepper, the man who owns the livery stable where I used to work?’

  ‘The one who gave you your first horse and saddle?’

  ‘Yup; that’s the one. Well, he’s laid up and will be a while. He was always real good to me, and now it’s my turn to help him by runnin’ the stable till he’s back on his feet and able to work again. That won’t be till the fall, they reckon.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to be willin’ to go back just like that.’

  ‘Not really, it isn’t. He’s been a good friend to me. And to tell you the truth, I’ve been thinkin’ for some time now that I oughta go home. It’s seven years since I left.’ He paused a moment. ‘And I’ve also been thinkin’ that maybe my next drive oughta be my last.’

  Ethan stared ruefully at him. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve bin seemin’ restless recently. Seven years atop a horse from the time the sun comes up till it goes down at night, and workin’ through all the winter months on one ranch after another – I guess that’s about long enough for most men.’

  Joe nodded. ‘You’re right about me feelin’ restless. I reckon I’m about ready to settle down.’

  Ethan nodded slowly. ‘That’s good thinkin’, Joe. You’ve always said you wanted a ranch, but a drover’s life’s a real hard life, and if you let it, it’ll use up all your strength, and you won’t be left with enough to set up on your own. You’re stoppin’ at the right time.’

  ‘That’s my way of lookin’ at it, too.’

  ‘And, of course, with your brother married and him a pa now, it’s not surprisin’ you’re thinkin’ about gettin’ yourself a wife, too,’ Ethan added with a wry smile.

  ‘Who’s said anythin’ about a wife?’ Joe exclaimed.

  Ethan grinned at him. ‘You didn’t need to. I seen the way the gals in town look at you, and the way you look back at them. But you ain’t gonna find the right gal for you if you’re always on the move. I didn’t, and you won’t.’ He paused. ‘So when are you settin’ off?’

  ‘Right now, if you’ll oblige me by explainin’ what’s happened to the ranch foreman. I’ve over a month of hard riding ahead of me, and it’s not gonna be an easy journey.’

  Ethan nodded. ‘I’
ll tell him,’ he said, ‘and I’ll get you an extra blanket for the nights. You’ll need it – it’ll be real cold sleepin’ beneath the stars when the sun’s gone down.’ He started to turn away.

  ‘Wait a minute, Ethan,’ Joe said quickly.

  Ethan turned back to him. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I know I’m gonna see you again, but I just wanna say how grateful I am that I had you for a trail partner when I started out, and that we’ve always been able to work together since then. Luck was on my side the day I met you. You’ve been a good friend: you’ve taught me what I needed to know; you’ve seen that we’ve had interestin’ drives led by foremen who knew what they were doin’ and you’ve always found us somewhere to work over winter that was real congenial. I appreciate that.’

  Ethan gestured for Joe to stop.

  ‘Not till I’ve finished,’ Joe said, smiling. ‘I owe you a lot, Ethan. I’ve now seen enough and listened to enough people to know there are a lot of drovers who aren’t as lucky as I’ve been and who’ve had it mighty hard. Many have had to work long hours for little more than food and clothin’. I’ve had a better experience than that, and that’s thanks to you.’

  Ethan shrugged. ‘There’s a lot of men drivin’ cows who haven’t got your skill or education, and I guess many of those are the ones who’re linin’ the bottom of the barrel. Same can be said of any job.’

  ‘True, but my greenness of youth has long since passed and I can see that this is a more difficult job than many. That I’ve had such a swell time of it is thanks to you.’ He smiled at Ethan. ‘That’s what I wanted to say, and now I’ve said it.’

  ‘You sure did,’ Ethan drawled. ‘And I thank you.’ He paused. ‘But to go back to now, I’ll not expect to see you till after winter, and if you don’t make it back for the spring round-up, or for any other, you be sure to keep in touch.’

  ‘You bet I will.’

  ‘Drop a line to me in Caldwell, and I’ll let you know where I’ll be after that. After all, one day you might need someone who knows about horses and cattle to help you out on that ranch of yours.’ He grinned at Joe, raised his hand in a slight wave, and turned away.

  ‘You’re gonna have to learn to sleep real quiet then,’ Joe called after him, laughing. ‘I don’t wanna have to deal nightly with a stampede of frightened cows.’

  Ethan stopped walking and turned back to Joe. He gave him a slow smile. ‘Stay safe, my friend,’ he said, and he turned away again and continued walking.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Early May, 1885

  Light on sleep after weeks of heavy riding, Joe’s tired gaze swept across the plain that was frosted lilac in the chill of the dying day, to Carter Town. His weary eyes traced the charcoal-grey outline of the roofs and the jagged shapes of the rocky peaks behind them, shadowy structures that reached up and slowly dissolved into the darkening sky.

  His first glimpse of the town for more than seven years.

  As he sat there, his mind went back to the many times he’d wandered across the plain as a lad – sometimes alone, sometimes with Charity – and a wave of strong emotion ran through him. His family was out there among that haze of grey wooden houses, and he was going to be seeing them soon. And suddenly that felt very strange.

  Chilled to the bone at having taken to the saddle as soon as dawn had begun to streak the leaden sky with bands of yellow-grey light, and at having ridden hard all day, as he’d done each day since he’d left the ranch, he hugged his arms around himself to bring heat to his body as he stared at the town ahead.

  Then he turned slightly to the right. His eyes followed the indistinct line of the gully carved out by the river, the view broken at intervals by the row of miners’ houses with their stovepipe chimneys. Day after day, he’d panned for gold in that water, he remembered, his heart brim-full with the hope of the young. It may have been years ago, but it was as alive in his mind as if it had been yesterday.

  Beneath the red bandanna wrapped around the lower part of his face for warmth, he smiled.

  He really ought to complete his journey before he got much colder, he thought, but sitting there in the deep silence of the gathering darkness, gazing across the plain as its mantle deepened into a purplish hue, he felt a strange reluctance to move.

  It was nervousness, he knew. There would be many changes in Carter that he already knew about, but there were sure to be others he didn’t.

  The letters he’d gotten from Charity had kept Carter vivid in his mind, but they would have told only a part of what had happened over the years, just as his letters had merely skimmed the surface of his life. The lad of seventeen, who’d cinched his horse and ridden away from the town to become a cowboy, was a very different person from the man who was returning. So, too, there would have been significant changes in the town and, more importantly, in those he was about to meet again.

  And that was a daunting thought.

  The wind changed direction and he shivered. He’d forgotten how cold the spring evenings could be.

  His ma and pa would show signs of age, and in addition his pa would show the effects of his mining accident. Sam would probably still be Sam. Becoming the head of a family of his own, and renting his own house, might have mellowed him a bit, and he’d like to think it would have done, but he wasn’t about to wager any money on it.

  And as for Charity … well, she’d still be a young girl, although not quite as young as when he’d left, and she’d be taller, for sure.

  He grinned to himself as he pictured the wide beam that would spread across her face when she opened the door and saw him standing there, and the outpouring of excitement that would follow. Seeing her again was going to be one of the best things about coming home.

  A sudden longing to complete his journey swept away his nervousness. He clapped his gloved hands together to bring some warmth back into them, gathered the reins and pressured the horse’s flanks with the heels of his brown leather boots. As the horse eagerly picked up pace, he urged it faster and faster until soon he was galloping hell-bent across the mottled ground that lay between him and his family.

  And then he was back in Carter.

  With his harness slung over one shoulder, his leather saddle bag over the other, and the brim of his Stetson hooding his eyes against the cold, Joe pulled the bandanna down from his face, knocked on the door of the wooden house and took a step back.

  In his mind’s eye, he pictured Charity’s expression when she opened the door. He could almost touch the excitement he felt.

  From inside the house, he heard steps coming towards the door. The door started to open. His face broke out into a smile. The door opened wider. Caught in shadow, a slight figure stood in the doorway.

  It wasn’t Charity; it was his mother.

  He felt the sharp stab of disappointment.

  His smile faded slightly and he stood motionless as his mother stared at him, one hand on the door, the other on its wooden frame.

  As he felt her questioning gaze on his face – the face of a man, not a boy; a face shadowed by the brim of a hat and several days’ growth of beard – a huge surge of love swept through him for the woman in front of him, her dark brown hair now streaked with grey, her face etched with lines of worry that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her.

  His smile broadened again.

  She blinked a couple of times. Then her face cleared and broke out into a smile of pure joy.

  ‘Joe.’ His name was a long low sigh of delight. She brought her hands together in front of her mouth. ‘You’re my Joe.’

  Love filled her face, and with a cry, she stepped forward into the arms he’d opened wide for her. His arms closed around her and he hugged her tightly.

  Still embracing her, he stepped into the house, pushed the door shut behind him with the heel of his boot, hugged her more tightly and then dropped his arms. Slipping the leather bag off his shoulder, he let it fall to the floor and threw the harness on top of it. Then he took off his
hat, hung it on a peg by the door and turned to his mother.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Now let’s have a look at you, Ma.’ He put a hand on each of her shoulders and held her at arms’ length. ‘Why, I do believe you look just the same as on the day when I left, if not a bit younger.’

  Laughing, she moved back. ‘I see you’ve picked up a real sweet way of talkin’,’ she said, tucking some loose grey hairs into the bun that hung low on the back of her head. ‘It don’t fool me, though. The years have left their mark on me, just like they have on your pa.’ She nodded towards the chair in the corner of the room near the potbelly stove.

  Joe turned from his mother and saw Hiram. He had risen to his feet and was leaning on his stick, smiling at him, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

  He took a step towards him. ‘Pa,’ he said, and he stopped, his voice catching in his throat as he saw the stance of the man whose back had been straight when he’d left and whose face had been free of the damage wrought by pain.

  ‘Your pa’s leg’s never really healed,’ Martha said quietly. ‘That’s the mine for you; not that we’re complainin’ – at least they’ve taken him on again. That’s Sam’s doin’. It’s more than’s happened to some who’ve had accidents.’

  In a moment, Joe was at his father’s side, his arms around him. ‘I missed you, Pa,’ he said, emotion cracking his voice. ‘I sure missed both you and Ma.’

  Hiram pulled back and stared up into Joe’s face, tracing his features with eyes full of tears. ‘There was a time I thought I’d never see you again, son,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘They were dark days, indeed.’

  ‘Well, you were wrong, weren’t you? I’m here now, aren’t I?’ Joe said. ‘Here, sit down. I’ll help you.’ And he helped Hiram back into his chair.

  ‘You both sit down while I finish gettin’ the dinner ready. You’ll be fair hungry, I reckon, after all that ridin’, Joe.’