by Craig, Emma
The dry grass and scrub shimmered with frost. The silvery glitter went on forever until it disappeared over the horizon. The effect of all that silver sparkling under the hazy sunlight was peculiar. Noah’d never seen anything like it. He tilted his head back and stared into a sky as gray and hard as steel; as gray and hard as his own soul. The moon still hung up there in the western sky, a translucent, mottled, yellowish pearl. Capitan stood like a sentinel guarding its barren treasure, the Pecos Valley.
When he walked to the river to wash, crunching the frosted grass underfoot, Noah got the impression he was treading on slivers of icy silver. When he dipped his hands into the frigid water and drew them out again, not only did the water drip from them like sheets of crystal, but he discovered two pinkish quartz stones, unique to the area and that people hereabouts called Pecos Valley diamonds resting in his cupped hands. He had the fanciful thought that, what with his strange dreams, the weirdness of the frosty landscape, and those crystals, God was giving him a sign.
“Shit, you’re even crazier than usual this morning, Noah Partridge.”
Try as he might, however, Noah couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something magical about this morning. The impression made no sense to him. He kept glancing over his shoulder to see if Mac were anywhere about. Strange things happened in Mac’s vicinity. Mystical things. Things Noah couldn’t explain.
Mac was nowhere in sight, of course. “He’s in Rio Hondo, for God’s sake, man. Snap out of it!” He was embarrassed about his outburst when Fargo lifted his head, turned, and blinked at him.
Still, after he fed Fargo his morning meal and as he himself dined on fish for breakfast, he realized what he had to do. Knowing he was a being a blockhead even as he did it, after breakfast he saddled Fargo and rode toward the southwest.
“I’m crazy, Fargo,” he muttered. “I’m flat-out crazy.”
This morning, for the first time since the war, he couldn’t make himself care two hoots about the loss of his fragile sanity.
# # #
Mac smiled with satisfaction as his mind’s eye pictured Noah Partridge and his horse.
“The lad’s coming around,” he murmured to his frosty window, which remained as silent as ever.
“Who are you talking to, Mac?”
He turned to see Maddie Richardson, holding her dolly Priscilla, knuckling her eyes and yawning at him. She was about the cutest little tyke on earth, and Mac loved her very much. He gave her a happy-morning smile.
“I’m just lookin’ out at the day the good Lord’s given us, Maddie m’lass, and thankin’ Him for it. ‘Tis a fine, fine day.”
Maddie walked across the cold parlor floorboards and her mother’s warm, braided rugs to Mac’s side and peered out the window with him. “It looks cold out there to me.”
“Oh, aye, it’s cold all right. It’s gettin’ on towards Christmas, lass, and out here the weather’s cold at Christmas.”
Maddie reached up and put her soft little hand in Mac’s hard big one. “Isn’t it cold everywhere at Christmas time?”
“Nay, lass. In the southern hemisphere it’s warm this time of year.”
“Was it cold where Jesus was born?”
Mac smiled down at her, feeling his old heart go warm with tenderness. “I don’t know, lass, but I do know that the land where Jesus was born is a lot like this. It’s as dry and desert-like in Bethlehem as it is here in Rio Hondo. Dryer, maybe.”
“Really?” Maddie looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with surprise. “How come Christmas pictures always have snow in them, and sleds, and stuff?”
“I think that’s because people remember Christmas as the time they were the happiest, Maddie, and for most of the folks in Europe and America, the weather’s cold and often snowy at Christmas.”
“Oh.”
Mac was pretty sure she didn’t understand what he was talking about, but she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she stood there, holding his hand and Priscilla and staring out into the day with him.
Noah Partridge was out there, somewhere, doing what Noah Partridge had to do. Mac was pleased he was doing it. He couldn’t very well tell Maddie or Grace what it was. They’d find out soon enough.
“Mr. Noah’s gone to get Mommy’s reed organ, hasn’t he, Mac?”
Mac gave her hand a squeeze. “We’ll find out pretty soon, I reckon, Maddie, m’lass.”
“Mommy doesn’t think that’s what he’s doing, but he is, isn’t he?”
“Ah, lass, I can’t tell you that.”
“How come?”
Mac laughed softly. “Now how should I know what a man is going to do before he does it?”
“I don’t know, but you do.”
He couldn’t get out of it. Maddie was smarter than most folks Mac knew. “Well, maybe sometimes I do, but I can’t tell, ‘cause that wouldn’t be fair, now, would it?”
“How come?”
“Ah, lass, folks have to find things out for themselves, and then do what they have to do. If everyone knew ahead of time what was going to happen, life wouldn’t be fun anymore, would it?”
A frown creased her perfect little forehead. “I guess.”
They were quiet for a minute. Mac could hear Grace moving about in the kitchen, and he could smell the pleasant aroma of fresh coffee brewing and bacon frying. Grace was a good woman; one of the best. It was a shame she had to be going through this unsettled time now. Mac sighed.
“I wish Mommy would believe Mr. Noah’s going to help her,” Maddie sounded sad. “But she doesn’t. She doesn’t say so, but I can tell. I keep telling her he’s going to bring her the organ, and she always says not to get my hopes up. I know she thinks he isn’t coming back.”
Mac murmured a sympathetic noise for Maddie’s benefit.
“But he is coming back, isn’t he, Mac?”
“Ah, lass, I can’t tell you that, either.”
“I hope he does. Every night I pray for him, you know.”
“Aye, that’s the best thing ye can do for a body, child, is pray for them. I hope you add a prayer for your mama when you’re prayin’.”
She nodded solemnly. “Oh, yes. And I pray for my daddy too, even though he’s dead.”
“Ye’re a good lass, Maddie.”
“Oh, but Mac, I hope so hard that Mr. Noah will come back. And that he’ll bring Mommy a reed organ. She wants one bad. I know she does, even though she never says so.”
“Aye, well, perhaps it’s best not to hope too hard for things, Maddie. It’s best to accept things as they come, I reckon.”
When he glanced down, he found Maddie frowning up at him as if he’d shattered a cherished illusion. She’d learn soon enough that life held all sorts of things, good and bad, for folks. She’d already learned that good men could die, poor fatherless thing.
“But I can guarantee,” he said to make her feel better, “that your life will hold lots of happy times, Miss Maddie.”
“That’s what Mr. Noah calls me,” she said softly.
“What’s that, lass?”
“He calls me Miss Maddie, like you just did. Mommy says that’s because he’s a southern gentleman, and southern gentlemen say things like that.”
Mac chuckled again. “Aye, I reckon she’s right about that, Maddie m’lass. Your Mr. Noah’s a gentleman, all right. To his toes.”
“It’s time to get dressed, Maddie. Breakfast is almost ready.”
When Mac and Maddie turned around, Mac was sorry to see that Grace’s face was wan, her eyes had dark circles under them, and her expression was mournful. She looked thinner too. He’d noticed that she’d only been picking at her meals lately. He shook his head.
“I’ll help Maddie get her shoes and stockings on, Grace. You finish breakfast.”
“Thank you, Mac.” She gave him a sad smile. “I appreciate your help.”
“I know ye do, lass. I know ye do.”
With another sigh for the state of things, Mac led Maddie to her room and helped her dress
.
Breakfast that morning was a very quiet meal.
Chapter Eighteen
On the second Monday of Noah’s absence from McMurdo’s Wagon Yard, Grace told herself that she was glad he wasn’t coming back. The only reason she still felt like crying all the time was that Maddie missed him. Grace resented Noah Partridge fiercely for having weaseled himself into her daughter’s good graces and then abandoning her. She refused to allow herself to resent him on her own behalf.
“It’s not as if she hasn’t already suffered enough loss in her short life,” she growled as she slammed her bread dough onto the floured board. Loose flour puffed up in all directions, and she uttered a short, sharp, “Damn!”
Grace was shocked when she heard herself. She couldn’t recall ever having sworn out loud before. Muttering under her breath, she grabbed a damp rag, knelt down, and began cleaning up the flour. When Mac came through the door, she looked up and brushed hair out of her eyes. She’d forgotten that her hands were coated with flour until she felt her hair stick to her gluey fingers.
“Oh, botheration! Now look what I’ve done!”
“Aye, lass, ye’re a rare mess.”
She almost hollered at Mac before she caught herself. Good heavens, what was the matter with her? Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so short-tempered. She forced a smile.
“I’m making cinnamon rolls for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Yum. Sounds like heaven.”
Sounded like heaven, did it? Grace’s idea of heaven encompassed a lot more than cinnamon rolls, but she let Mac’s assessment pass without comment.
“Do you have any objection to Maddie ridin’ out with me to see Cody and Arnold this morning? I have some mail for them from Georgetown.” Cody O’Fannin and Arnold Carver were cousins who ranched a few miles out of Rio Hondo. Cody was a particular favorite of Maddie’s. “Last time Cody came to town, he said they were going to be busy buildin’ onto their cabin, so I don’t expect they’ll get to town before Christmas, and I suspect these are Christmas messages from their family.”
Grace had finished sponging up the mess she’d made on the floor. She guessed she’d better wash her hair out, too, before she finished rolling the dough, or the wet flour would dry and harden into paste and she’d have to cut it out.
“That would be nice.” She didn’t mean it. She hated it when Mac and Maddie went off together and left her alone, because she tended to brood when she was by herself. But Maddie loved visiting. Well, why shouldn’t she? There were so few people out here that even visiting two bachelor ranchers was a treat for her. Grace sighed inside. “Let me get a package I made up for them. It’s just some fruitcake and tablecloth I sewed out of some checked material.”
Mac laughed. “Tryin’ to civilize ‘em, are ye, lass?”
Grace couldn’t help it. She laughed too. “I suppose so. But I feel sorry for the poor men who have to live out here without any of the comforts of home around them.”
“Aye, I know what you mean, lass. Although I reckon there are some men out here who don’t have many comforts to remember from home.”
Like Noah Partridge. Grace glanced keenly at Mac, but his countenance was as serene as an angel’s. She didn’t believe that innocent expression one tiny bit. “I suppose so.” Her tone was clipped. Mac laughed again.
Annoyed with him, Grace maintained her dignity as she left the kitchen and went to her bedroom. There she snatched up the package she’d put together for Cody and Arnold with too much force, and poked a hole it. “Bother!” She’d been in such a state these past two weeks, she hardly recognized herself.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the package at Mac. “Better be careful with it. That fruitcake is only protected by the tablecloth and some paper.”
“I’ll be careful with it, lass. You be careful with yourself.”
Mac patted her cheek as if she were a two-year-old. Grace had to wipe tears from her eyes.
She had more or less composed herself when Mac and Maddie started on their journey. And she’d managed to wash all the flour out of her hair without dripping water all over the floor.
She stood on the porch and waved them off, feeling as if her last link to life were deserting her and wishing she could just go to sleep for a hundred years like a fairy-tale princess. Some princess she made.
When the truants returned later that afternoon, they brought with them a package from Cody and Arnold to Grace and Maddie, and a small Christmas tree. Grace took the package and attempted to be happy that Maddie was bouncing up and down with enthusiasm. Lord knew, her daughter deserved this present.
“Mac says we can dec’rate the tree tonight after supper, Mommy!”
“We certainly can,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’ll fetch those garlands we made last month. They’ll look pretty on the tree.”
It was already a pretty tree, really, even if it did seem a trifle small. It stood only about four feet tall, but that was a good thing, Grace told herself. If it were any taller, Maddie would have trouble reaching. Because she knew she should, she said, “Thank you, Mac. Where did you get the tree?”
He winked at her. “I have me ways, lass.”
His aura of mystery irked her, but she didn’t snap at him. “Yes, I know that, Mac. But I am curious.” She heard the vinegar dripping from her words, and regretted it. She really had to get her emotions under control. This would never do. Mac had been her kindest friend for years now; she had no business being short with him.
Fortunately, he didn’t take her mood amiss. He never did. His very understanding made her want to burst out shrieking. Good grief!
“Ah, lass, I’m not tryin’ to tease you. Maddie and me, we stopped by the Blackworth place on our way home. Gus Spalding and another of Blackworth’s cowboys had gone up to the mountains and brought back a few trees. Susan Blackworth gave us this one. Said it’s just Maddie’s size.”
Now Grace felt terrible for having been snappish. “She’s right. It is. And it’s a very pretty tree. I’m sure it will look lovely when we’ve decorated it.”
“Aye. I’ll fetch some of the boxes off the top shelf in the back room. I think there are some Christmas things in there.” He winked again.
Since Grace had been home alone with no one visiting the mercantile and nothing to occupy herself with but her own black thoughts, she’d prepared a bigger supper than usual. Mac and Maddie appreciated her efforts. She guessed that made them worthwhile.
After she and Maddie had washed the supper dishes, she went to their room and hauled out the Christmas garlands and the little angels she and Maddie had cut out and pasted together
Mac had moved the furniture in the parlor to accommodate the Christmas tree. He’d cleared one entire wall, in fact. Grace wondered if he expected lots of Christmas presents to arrive by carrier pigeon, but didn’t ask because she knew the intemperate thought to be the product of her worried mind. Then Mac set up the tree in a bucket of sand and brought a box of Christmas things from the back room.
Grace and Maddie had just wound the first garland around the tree, and Grace was finally getting into the spirit of Christmas, when Maddie piped up, “Mrs. Backwort said that Mr. Noah had been at her house until yesterday, Mommy.”
Grace’s heart swooped, and she dropped the angel she’d been about to hang on a branch. She swallowed painfully and managed to say mildly, “Really? I wonder what he was doing there.”
Maddie shrugged, nonchalant. “I don’t know, ‘cause she didn’t say. I wish he was there when we visited, though, ‘cause I miss him.”
Damn Noah Partridge to the eternal pit for leaving Maddie like this. Grace sucked in a big breath and kept her mouth shut. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mac sitting in his big old chair, puffing on his pipe and watching her, his eyes twinkling like sapphires. She wondered what was going on in that old head of his, then decided she was better off not knowing.
“Mrs. Backwort played some Christmas carols on her pian
o, though, and they were pretty,” Maddie chirped happily.
“Did she? Her rheumatism must be better.”
“It is. She said so. It’s ‘cause of Mac’s limment.”
“His limment?” Grace peered at Mac, who blew out a perfect smoke ring and grinned back.
“My extra-special, super-effective horse liniment, is what our Maddie’s tellin’ ye, Grace m’lass. Works on people’s knuckles and ankle bones, too.”
He offered another one of his winks. Grace didn’t resent this one as much as she had the last several. She considered it a major dispositional improvement on her part. “I see. Well, Mac’s as good as a doctor in these parts, and he knows what people need.”
“That’s what Mrs. Backwort says. She said she was sending Gus over here on Christmas Eve, ‘cause she’s got a present for you.”
“Does she? That’s nice of her. If I’d known you were going out to Susan’s, I’d have given you the shawl I knitted for her.”
Not that Susan Blackworth couldn’t afford to send to New York or Baltimore or anywhere else she chose—Paris, even—for better shawls than Grace Richardson could knit. Grace reminded herself that expense wasn’t the point. The point of giving Christmas gifts was to honor the spirit of the season by acknowledging friendship. The good Lord had given His son, for heaven’s sake. And if all Grace could afford to give her friends were hand-made goods, that’s what she’d give.
Where was Noah? Why had he been at the Blackworths’? Was he ever coming back?
When she perceived the track her thoughts had taken, Grace very nearly forgot herself and swore out loud for the second time in her life.
# # #
“You just missed Mr. McMurdo and Maddie Richardson, Mr. Partridge. Your timing is impeccable.”
Noah scowled at Susan Blackworth. She was the most sarcastic damned woman he’d ever met in his life. “Yeah? Sorry I missed them.”