by Linda Broday
One of Sam’s notes read:
If wishes were dreams I would hold you in my arms, darling Maura, and never let you go. Each time the sun goes down I kiss you goodnight and dream of your beautiful face. What do you wish for, pretty lady?
She quickly penned a reply.
Sam, you don’t know how much you’ve come to mean to me. My wish would be for your strong arms around me, your lips on mine, our hearts beating as one. I dream of meeting you beneath the stars and walking hand in hand across the heavens.
Their conversations through the notes brought Maura much comfort and strength. Though they never met, she developed a deep abiding love for this man.
Each morning she couldn’t wait to visit the tree and see the new notes waving gaily in the breeze. He was the green leaf, the olive branch she’d desperately wanted to find.
Her heart skipped several beats when she received this one:
What is the face of love to you, dearest Maura?
To which she immediately replied:
It’s what’s inside a person’s heart, deep down past the scars of hurt and grief. You wear the face of love, darling Sam.
Maura floated through the days, feeling loved and cherished. Sam was the answer to her heart’s yearning. He’d given her strength and hope and courage. No task was too difficult or impossible. His words of love made her feel like a woman again. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like.
Then one day this message came that shocked her to her core:
My job in this part of Texas is over. They’re sending me to Julesburg, Colorado Territory. I’m sorry. Knowing you has eased my deep loneliness. I wish you well, dearest Maura. Think of me from time to time with fondness as I will you. When the wind blows from the west and gently brushes your face it’ll be my fingers caressing you.
Pain doubled her over. He was gone. Maura fell into the cushion of tall grass weeping. Once again, she had no one to talk to, to share the lonely day’s struggles with.
No one to care.
Sam had surely died also even though she had no grave to visit.
* * *
One month went by then two more with each day crawling straight into the next.
Nothing to break the monotony.
Nothing to ease the isolation.
Nothing to bring solace when the rigors of life beat her down.
After carefully removing each note, Maura tucked them safely away and avoided the place that had brought her much happiness.
Yet, when the morning sun’s golden rays caressed the outstretched branches of the sad little tree, she paused for just a moment remembering the man named Sam who had taught her to dream again. She’d felt his touch, his kisses even though they’d existed solely in words.
Because of Sam and the strength he’d given her, she was able to go about the business of living and caring for her darling daughter. He’d given Maura much more than he knew. And when the wind blew from the west, she felt him watching over her.
Allie grew and continued to thrive. The child babbled continuously. Maura taught her to say “Mama” and made a point to laugh at her silly antics.
On a sweltering summer morning in August, she casually glanced out the window while she prepared breakfast.
Something waved from the little tree. Her imagination played a cruel joke on her for sure. Still, Maura ran outside to get a better look.
Shielding her eyes against the sun, she could barely see a glimpse of red, but it was there. Trembling, she grabbed Allie and raced across the small field from which rows of corn, squash, turnips and other vegetables grew.
When she drew closer, she saw a man sitting beneath the branches, propped up against the trunk. He grinned wide.
She slowed to a walk. What if this stranger had evil on his mind? Her rifle still rested on the wall of the soddy.
Something inside told her to keep going.
His laughing gray eyes held kindness like the man in her dream. A voice whispered she had nothing to fear. Five yards away from him, he pushed to his feet. He stood over six feet tall.
“Sam? Sam, is it you?”
“It’s me. I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time, Maura.” He held out his hand. “Come here.”
In a daze, Maura lowered Allie to the grass then went into his welcoming arms. “I thought I lost you,” she whispered.
“I found that no matter how hard I tried, you’re impossible to forget. I had to get back here. I quit my job and rode night and day to get here. I was afraid my ugly face would frighten you. That’s why I didn’t come to the house and knock on the door either today—or all those times when we tied our messages to the Telegraph Tree here.”
The Telegraph Tree. What an apt name.
She stepped one foot back to drink in the sight of him. A long scar ran from his cheek to his square jaw, but she’d never felt safer. She took his hands and ran her fingers across the big calluses. “You are a handsome man and don’t frighten me one bit. My heart already knows you.”
He brushed his lips across her cheek. “Your eyes are the color of freshly-turned earth. You are my angel, beautiful Maura.”
Her pulse sang through her veins.
“Sam, this may sound odd, but I dreamt of you before we ever started corresponding. At the time, though, it made no sense to me.”
“It must’ve been Heaven’s way of an introduction. The Good Lord appears to be an architect in these matters.” Sam knelt to say hello to Allie and brush her soft golden curls. “I used to hide in the tall grass and watch you both. I saw how hard you worked and wished for the courage to knock on your door. You’re the kind of woman I always wanted, nothing like the others who could barely stomach the sight of me after I came back from war.”
Maura’s heart broke for him. “Let’s forget the past. We’ve had too much sorrow.”
Sam rose and gently caressed Maura’s cheek. “Do you mind if I kiss you?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispered.
Tenderly, he put his large hands on both sides of her face and pressed his lips to hers. At that instant, Maura knew she didn’t want to be anywhere but in his arms.
It was like a beautiful dream. If that’s all it was, she didn’t want to wake up.
She got out the notes she’d kept. With his help, she tied them all back on along with new ones each of them penned. The tree was awash with glorious color and hopeful dreams.
They discussed marriage and the fact it would take a long time to be wed. Neither wanted to wait six months or a year.
An old symbolic custom came to mind for just such a situation. Maura turned to him. “Let’s jump the broom, Sam.”
That evening as the sun floated low on the horizon, Maura and Sam pledged their love for all eternity beneath the limbs of their tree. Then laying the broom on the ground, they held hands and, taking a big leap, jumped over it.
Allie Rose, who refused to budge from Sam’s arms, laughed and clapped as though she understood everything.
And maybe she did.
Moon Dog Night
~Part One~
The frigid night air settled around Bonner Raine’s shoulders, promising a miserable night. He tugged the collar of his coat up against his neck and moved closer to the fire. Shivering, he glanced up at the winter sky and the large halo around the moon. Over to the left of the bright orb was a moon dog just as sure as he was freezing his rear off.
“Snow’s coming. Bet it’ll be here before morning,” he told his hound.
Jezzie yawned and curled up next to Bonner. She was part cow dog and part wolf. A mixture just like him. They suited each other—pieces of different things put together to make a whole.
Bonner leaned back against his saddle and drew his hat down low over his eyes. He prayed he could get a little sleep before he had to ride. He was Lord almighty weary of this life of hunting bad men. Folks shot him looks of disdain when he rode into towns, leading a horse with some desperate outlaw slung belly-down over it. They said
Bonner was no more than a killer—all because he collected rewards for ridding the world of evil.
Not all of the wanted men chose to die. He always gave them a choice. Never once in the time he’d been at this had he shot anyone without offering them a choice—jail or the grave—then let the cards play out how they were dealt.
For the most part, men on the run were short in the brain department. The majority tried to outshoot him rather than go to jail peaceable. But one day, Bonner’s luck would end. He knew that as sure as he was sitting there.
The fire crackled and popped and somewhere off in the distance a lonely coyote howled. He pulled his bedroll over him.
Way he saw it, he was no different from a lawman who administered justice for free. They both accomplished the same thing and getting paid for it provided Bonner with a living.
But he was tired of dodging bullets and outrunning the devil. Not much of a life for a man with dreams. He had his eye on a little farm in the Texas Hill Country where one day he could settle down with a good woman and raise a crop of kids. That is if he could find someone who could put up with the demons that shared Bonner’s saddle.
One more outlaw and he’d have enough money.
The capture of Billy Osage could buy that farm.
Thoughts of that piece of land meandered through his mind as he let his hand drift over Jezzie’s black and white fur. She never judged and was loyal to a fault. Just then he caught the whinny of a horse beyond the firelight and raised, listening. Jezzie growled and stood. Bonner flung the bedroll aside and lurched to his feet, drawing his Colt. Keeping low, he crept to the edge of darkness and took cover in the brush. Jezzie raced into the black night, raising holy hell.
Quiet voices reached him as though nothing more than a sigh of the cold wind. But Bonner trusted his instincts. Someone was out there.
He waited and watched. Over the last six years he’d seen every trick known and some that weren’t. Jezzie had become oddly silent. What had happened to the hound?
A horse shuffled its feet. More whispers.
“Show yourself,” Bonner growled.
At last, came a child’s voice. “Don’t shoot, mister.”
“Come on in,” Bonner called. “Slow and easy.”
He stayed hidden in case Osage had stooped to using a kid to lure him into the open. Nothing that outlaw did would surprise Bonner. Not one damn thing.
A rustle of brush preceded the visitor. When the mule stepped into the circle of light with Jezzie plodding alongside, he stared in shock.
The riders were kids—two of them—the oldest no more than nine or ten.
* * *
His Colt in hand, Bonner rose and scanned the darkness. He waited for Billy Osage to race toward him with gun blazing—or at the very least the parents of these children.
“Tell anybody with you to come out, kid.” Now in the light, he noticed the oldest was a boy. Behind him, gripping the boy’s waist, was a little girl with long blonde hair. She gave a loud sniffle.
“Ain’t nobody with us,” said the boy. “Just me and my sister. We’re cold. Hungry.”
Bonner slid his Colt into the holster. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” He helped the kids to the ground and moved them by the fire. The boy could barely walk for the heavy pistol stuck in the waist of his pants. Thank goodness both wore thick coats.
The boy shot him a wary glance and held his hands to the flame. “Lookin’ for somebody, mister.”
“Call me Bonner. Bonner Raine. Are you lost?”
“Nope.”
“Got a name, kid?” Bonner was trying to make sense of this. If he was dreaming, he wished he’d wake up. Surely they were a figment of his imagination. He’d been dog tired down to his bones before, but never where he saw ghosts.
“Jonathan Timothy Andrew Cutler.”
“I’m Addie,” said the girl shyly. Jezzie whimpered and licked her hand.
“Well, Jonathan Timothy Andrew Cutler and Addie, if I knew who you were looking for I could help you find them.” Bonner glanced at the mule and found bedrolls tied to the animal and a burlap sack filled with something hanging from the saddle horn. The kids had prepared for a trip, not just a spur of the moment ride.
“Aimin’ to find Billy Osage. He killed our papa. Took our mama.” Jonathan glanced up. The blue flames of the fire shone on his grim young features. Anger glistened in his dark eyes and hardened his voice. “I’m gonna get her back. An’ I’m gonna kill Billy Osage.”
As soon as Bonner got over the shock of the statement, he whistled through his teeth. “That’s a mighty tall order, Jonathan.” He didn’t doubt the commitment though. This kid sure as shooting had his mind set on going up against the most ruthless outlaw in Texas—and he wouldn’t stand a chance.
“We gonna git our mama,” little Addie said. Bonner guessed her age to be about five. She reached for her brother’s hand and clenched it. Tiptoeing to reach his ear, she whispered loudly, “I’m hungry, Jonathan.”
Bonner kicked himself for not asking if they’d eaten. He glanced at the still warm skillet that held a rabbit stew he’d thrown together. “You’re welcome to my stew. I made plenty.”
“We ain’t askin’ for charity,” Jonathan said firmly. But Bonner saw the boy cast a sideways glance at the pan. Addie was downright staring.
“Listen, you’d be doing me a favor. Me and my dog have eaten all we can hold and I’ll have to throw it out.” When he saw hesitation in their eyes, he grabbed a tin plate and filled it then got two spoons. “You’ll have to share the plate. Sorry.”
They sat on his bedroll and the way they dug in said they were starving. Jezzie laid down beside Addie. It seemed the girls were going to stick together in this.
“When did Billy Osage come by your place?” Bonner asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“This morning,” Jonathan muttered around his chewing. “About sunrise. Me an’ Addie hid in the hayloft.”
“How do you know it was Osage?”
“On account of what he said right before he shot our papa between the eyes. ’Tell the devil Billy Osage sent you.’ He jerked Mama onto a horse and they lit out with her screaming.”
Bonner narrowed his eyes over the rim of the cup. That sounded like the low-down, no-account outlaw. “Did you ever see him before today?”
“Nope.” The boy wiped his mouth on a bandana that he took from around his neck then wiped Addie’s face.
Jezzie’s eyes found Bonner’s and she whimpered as though pleading for him to help these children. The dog didn’t need to ask. He’d already decided and not because he needed Billy Osage’s carcass for the reward. He’d do it to give the children back their mother and right the wrong.
“That man is a mighty mean hombre. Think you can get justice and rescue your mama by yourself?”
“Yep.” Jonathan set down the plate they’d cleaned and went to the mule.
Bonner followed. “Need some help?”
“Nope.” The kid dragged a rock over to stand on and untied two bedrolls—and a yarn-headed doll. Stalking back, he thrust the doll at Addie, then spread out their bedrolls. Bonner watched in amazement. The boy was sure self-sufficient and determined not to ask for help.
While he admired that, he wanted to shake the boy. He and his sister had no business being out here chasing Billy Osage in the dead of winter.
With a snowstorm likely bearing down.
The kid might shoot his fool self with that pistol weighing down his pants. “How did you track the outlaw anyway, son?”
“My papa was a Texas Ranger and he taught me. Taught me a lot of stuff.”
“How to shoot?” Bonner asked.
“Yep.”
“There’s a lot of difference in aiming at things that can’t shoot back. Have you ever killed a man, Jonathan?”
“Nope. But I will.” Jonathan took little Addie to the bushes. When he stalked back, he laid down next to his sister and covered them.
Bo
nner reckoned the boy had chewed all the fat he was going to for now. He’d wait until the kid went to sleep, then he’d take that gun before it accidentally went off.
But, just as he finished the thought, Jonathan pulled the pistol out and hid it somewhere deep in the folds of the bedroll. Bonner silently cussed a blue streak. It was almost as if the pint-sized lawman had read his mind.
Bonner sat there thinking a long time after he heard the boy’s snores. Anger rose so thick it almost choked him. He and Osage were going to have a long conversation—as soon as he got these kids’ mother from the outlaw’s clutches.
Jezzie rose from a spot beside Addie and laid down next to Bonner. The dog glanced up and whimpered.
“I know, girl. We’ve got to fix this.” Bonner tossed another piece of wood onto the fire and watched it spark and sizzle. He was deep into plans when the unmistakable sound of sobs reached him. He got to his feet to see what he could do to comfort, although he was pretty rusty in that department.
Addie lay next to her sleeping brother, crying her heart out. Bonner lifted her into his arms and patted her back. “There, tell me what’s wrong, sweet girl.”
“I want my mama. She always gives me a goodnight kiss.”
“Honey, I’m sorry she’s not here to do that, but I promise that we’re going to find her.” Worry niggled in Bonner’s head as a thought froze him. Unless Osage killed her. What then? It would be typical for the outlaw. What would he do with these kids?
He sat down and held her in his lap until she fell asleep sucking her thumb. Tenderness rose from a place so far down inside Bonner he hadn’t known it existed. His eyes narrowed.
Billy Osage was a dead man.
With a long sigh, he tucked Addie back into the bedroll and put her doll in her arms, covering the children with a warm blanket.