Prairie Song

by Jodi Thomas

  “Maggie,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m not leaving you, for you belong right where you are at this moment. I never thought a woman like you lived, and now I’ve found you I can’t think what it would be like to live without you. As long as there is breath in me you’ll never be lonely again.”

  He moved his hand over her sleeping body and felt her move toward his touch.

  * * *

  Cherish closed her door and ran to the lamp. Quickly she opened the letter she’d carried in her pocket all day waiting for a chance to read it.

  Brant’s words were simple. He’d gone to find Daniel and would be back as soon as he could. He ended with, “Look for me at dusk tomorrow. I’ll come through the tunnel.”

  There were no words of love. He hadn’t even signed his name, but he was coming to her and that was all that really mattered.

  Cherish’s joy was short-lived, for the next day dawned amid a downpour. The rain hung like a damp curtain over the air as clouds hid the sun and thunder rumbled through the house.

  Around noon, the carpenter brought the coffin and Hattie was placed inside. Her thin body needed only half the space, so Maggie surrounded her with the quilt that always lay over her in life. Cherish gently put the box of letters on one side and Bar placed her ancient gun on the other.

  It was well into the afternoon before the mourners started to gather in the living room. Grayson’s bed was moved to the corner and every chair in the house circled the room to make the visitors comfortable. As the rain slowed, their numbers grew until the house was full of a few grievers and numerous curious townspeople.

  Grayson ached all over, but he wasn’t about to go to bed with all these folks looking at him, and he wasn’t sure he could climb the stairs. He sought refuge on the back porch and it wasn’t long before Bar joined him.

  The boy propped himself up on the damp porch railing and watched the last bit of rain dribble off the roof. “Where do you think all those folks come from?” he asked. “Except for the doc and Holliday, I ain’t never seen them in this house.”

  Folding himself slowly into an old wicker chair, Grayson replied, “Folks like to come around when someone dies. Some are grieving and need to touch the living, but some just want to watch and talk. I reckon most of these are the latter. Hattie had quite a reputation in this town and them that wouldn’t visit her alive will come to look now she’s dead.”

  “I was thinkin’ that on a day like this, there ain’t much to do. But I’d have to be real hard up to go visit a dead person.”

  Agreeing, Grayson pulled a thin cigar from his pocket and lit it.

  Bar shrugged his bony shoulders. “Hattie wouldn’t have wanted them here. She threatened to shoot almost everyone who walked in her room with that old gun of hers. She told me once that she had enough powder in it to destroy half the men in town, but when I looked at it once I found it stuffed with rolled-up paper.”

  Grayson stood and moved closer to Bar. Keeping his voice calm, he asked, “What was on the paper, son?”

  “Just a bunch of names.”

  Grayson slowly lowered himself to the first step and allowed the damp air to clear his head. He tossed the cigar into the mud. From inside he could hear the tapping sound of the nails being hammered into the lid of Hattie’s coffin, but he didn’t move to stop them.

  Taking a deep breath, he listened to the sound of the hammer, knowing that it was forever closing inside the coffin the only list ever made of the Knights of the Golden Circle. All he had to do was go inside and demand the box be opened and he’d have the list he’d been looking for since the war ended. But if he found the list, would the war end? He’d probably find the names of a few men, like Wallman who were up to causing trouble but most of the men had probably gone on with their lives or died in the war. What good would it do exposing them now? He’d demanded that Maggie let the conflict die. He could ask no less of himself.

  Let the conflict and the secret die and be buried with Hattie, forever concealing the list, forever ending the bloodshed. She could keep the list safe in death as she had in life.

  As the hammering continued, Grayson stared into the gray clouds and buried his hatred. This rainy afternoon almost a year after Lee’s surrender was the day the war ended for him in his heart. Pain had torn wounds on both sides, but it was time to let them heal. Now he could look to the future and not the past.

  Now he could talk to Maggie of dreams … of forever.

  Chapter 29

  Grayson watched the mourners straggle down the hill toward the cemetery at the other end of town. They were a pathetic group of aging whores and old drunkards who all had stories to tell about Hattie in her younger days. Grayson was glad he’d remained behind, for he wasn’t sure he could have made the long walk through the mud. A few in the procession took torches, knowing it would be after dark before they returned. As they moved away, their bodies blinked in and out of Grayson’s sight in the twilight.

  He stood tall and strong until he was sure Maggie could no longer see him, then he slumped and allowed the pain of his wounds to twist his body. Using his last bit of energy to pull himself to his bed, Grayson collapsed, too tired even to make an attempt at removing his clothing. Within a breath’s length he was asleep.

  The world seemed quiet only a moment before noise began to invade his sleep. At first he thought the sounds he heard were part of a dream or that the thunder had returned. But the sudden shattering of glass cleared his foggy brain and the sounds became real.

  Grayson forced his eyes open. The sounds were coming from Hattie’s room. He could hear furniture being overturned or shoved aside. A low lamp burned in the hallway near the door, but most of the light came from Hattie’s doorway near the kitchen. There should have been no one in the house, so whoever was in her room was unwanted company.

  Lifting himself slowly, Grayson headed toward the noise. As he neared the stairs, he noticed a long brown robe, like Father Daniel wore, hanging over a chair. The light from Hattie’s room shone more clearly now. Someone kept crossing back and forth across the room, making the lamplight flicker on the hallway wall.

  The logic that had kept Grayson alive snapped into action and dulled the pain that was throbbing through his leg. If Daniel was in Hattie’s room, Grayson knew he’d better face the priest armed. He believed Cherish’s story of Daniel killing Westley. Pulling his Colt from its peg in the hallway, Grayson checked the bullets. Thank God Cherish had left the thing fully loaded.

  A sudden crash rattled through the house as sharp as the old woman’s screams had always been. Judging from the sound, whoever was in the room had just turned over Hattie’s bed.

  Grayson moved to her doorway, his frame blocking all escape. The room was in shambles, with a lifetime of now worthless keepsakes shattered and broken. Daniel was kneeling over the bed with a long knife in his hand. Just before the priest slashed the feather mattress, Grayson said calmly, “Looking for something, Father?”

  Daniel froze for a moment, then turned slowly to face the doorway.

  Grayson saw it then the touch of insanity in Daniel’s eyes. Somehow, he’d known it had been there all the time, hidden behind a veil of priestly virtue. Grayson had seen the same look before, in a few men he’d trapped. The look told him that Daniel valued no life, not even his own. That one fact made him more dangerous than any bloodthirsty outlaw. He would kill himself as well as Grayson if he were cornered.

  With great effort, the priest molded his face from an angry grimace into a passive mask. “Hattie had something that belonged to me. I’ve searched everywhere, but I can’t find it.”

  Grayson guessed, “A list of the Knights of the Golden Circle?”

  Daniel’s eyes twitched just enough to let Grayson know that he’d hit the mark. “Have you seen such a list?” He lowered the knife into its sheath inside his boot, but his knuckles were white as he gripped the handle.

  “No,” Grayson answered. “I’m afraid the secret of that list is buried wi
th Hattie.” He braced himself against the door frame for support. “Tell me, Father, are you looking for the list to blackmail those on it … or because you were a member? Brant told me once that he was too young to be a member, but you were two years older. Could it be that you signed your name to orders that sent a boatload of innocent people to their deaths?”

  The twitch of his eyes again told Grayson he’d made another direct hit. The priest turned to face the destroyed room. “No one must ever find that list. I’ve made all those responsible pay.”

  “Except yourself,” Grayson baited. “You were one of those first Knights who were sworn to kill.”

  Daniel’s eyes were wide with panic. “I was too young to know what I was joining. No one must ever find the list. It’s here somewhere; Hattie always told me it was. She always reminded me; that way I’d bring her opium. She loved making my life a hell by telling me I’d never have the list.”

  “Hattie’s dead.” Grayson could see his words weren’t getting through to Daniel. “They’re putting her in her grave about now. Shouldn’t you be there to say a few words, ‘Priest’?”

  “No one must have the list!” he screamed. “I have to destroy it. I have to forever burn my name from it!”

  With a sudden jerk of his hand, Daniel knocked the lamp onto the mattress. The smell of kerosene filled the room for a moment before it caught fire in one mighty blaze.

  Grayson turned toward the kitchen to find something, anything, to put out the fire. He’d only taken two steps when something hit him from behind, slamming into his head and enfolding him in darkness.

  Daniel walked calmly from the room. Firelight danced across his face but his eyes were the dead cold of the ocean depths. He stood for a moment above Grayson, watching the fire as though it were no more than a prairie campfire. He lifted Grayson’s head, exposing the Yankee’s neck, and pulled the knife from his boot.

  “No!” someone screamed from the other end of the hallway.

  Daniel looked up at the one woman he’d ever admired: the woman with the Blessed Virgin’s eyes. “Cherish,” he whispered as he lowered the knife.

  Cherish’s need to help Grayson was far greater than her fear. She ran toward him as Daniel backed a step away.

  “Don’t kill him!” she cried. “Please, Daniel, don’t kill him!”

  “I have to.” Daniel’s eyes grew wild as they reflected the fire inside Hattie’s room. “He knows too much. No one must ever know that I was one of the Knights.”

  “And me.” Cherish slid the gun from Grayson’s side. “Are you going to kill me, too?”

  Panic struck Daniel. “No!” he screamed to himself. “I could never kill you. I’d be no better than …”

  “Than the men who set fire to a boatload of women and children.” Cherish searched the darkness of the thin shadow of the man who’d spoken.

  Daniel’s eyes were liquid with pain.

  Brant moved into the light. “If you kill Grayson and Cherish, you’re no better than they were that night, Daniel. You’ve lived your life swearing vengeance, but you’d be the same.”

  “No!” Daniel screamed.

  Brant moved closer. Cherish watched the two men who looked so much alike. They were both in black, and with the smoke that was starting to fill the hallway it was hard to tell them apart.

  “I can’t let them take me, Brant! I can never be chained up again.” Daniel’s voice was wild with fear. “Stay with me. I stayed with you on the boat. I told them I wouldn’t go without you, but there was no room for you. That’s why they chained us both. We’ll burn together now as we should have done on the boat.”

  “No!” Brant was inching his way to Grayson and Cherish. “I have to get them out. They can’t die for no reason. I didn’t stop you before, because I guess I figured those men deserved to die, but I’m stopping you now.”

  The room was heating up until Cherish felt like her flesh was being sunburned. The air was thick with a dark gray smoke. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were stinging from the heat or with tears.

  “No!” Daniel crossed the hall and slammed the hallway lantern into the front door. “They have to stay!”

  Cherish screamed as their escape exit suddenly burst into flames.

  “No one must know of the sins I committed as a youth. No one! You’re the only family I’ve ever had, Brant. Stay with me now.”

  Brant suddenly jerked Daniel toward him. “Do you think if we all burn you’ll be clean, Daniel? Let’s get out while there’s still time. We can run. I’ll hide out with you. I’ll show you how not to get caught. You’ll never be locked in some dark cell. You have my word.”

  “No, not this time!” Daniel backed away. He looked into Cherish’s frightened eyes for a moment and reality cleared his vision. “Take the others out the basement tunnel, but I stay.”

  Brant hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Daniel, but he had to save Cherish.

  “Go!” Daniel shouted. “There’s no time left. Leave me, Brant.”

  Their hands grasped. The scars on their wrists were the same, scars Daniel earned by pulling Brant mile after mile through the water. Suddenly it was years ago and they were together again on the flaming ship with people screaming all around them.

  Brant answered from his heart. “I can’t leave you, Daniel. You didn’t leave me then and I can’t leave you now. Help me get Cherish and Grayson to the tunnel. I’ll stay with you to the end.”

  “Closer than brothers,” Daniel whispered.

  “Closer than brothers,” Brant answered.

  Cherish screamed, “No, Brant. No! I won’t go without you.”

  The wall of Hattie’s room was engulfed in flames. In only a matter of moments, the house would be an oven. Cherish tried to pull Grayson toward the basement door, but he was too heavy for her to move more than a few inches at a time.

  “Brant, I’ll die without you. Come with me or I’ll stay with you.” She was shouting now, to be heard above the noise. “I love you!”

  Brant held fast. “Not unless Daniel comes also. I can’t leave him.”

  Daniel looked at Cherish and saw all the love she had for Brant in her eyes—a total kind of love Daniel had never known. As he glanced at Brant, Daniel realized he’d burn in hell forever if he crushed such a love. This outlaw and this woman had found the one thing they’d searched their whole lives for and he couldn’t destroy it by demanding payment of a debt made when they were boys.

  “All right!” Daniel shouted as he silently prayed Cherish would stop crying. “I’ll go with you. We’ll get them out, then we’ll talk.”

  Brant hesitated, but Daniel pushed him forward. “We’ll talk on the outside. You get the Yankee and I’ll make sure Cherish gets down the stairs.”

  Shouldering Grayson, Brant headed toward the basement door. The handle burned his hand as he touched it, but he forced his fingers to grip the metal and twist. Smoke was so thick he couldn’t see more than a foot behind him as he hurried down the stairs.

  “Cherish,” he yelled when he reached the opening to the tunnel.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Daniel’s voice screamed above the fire. “Here, cover your head with my robe.” They moved across the basement where the air was not as thick or as hot as it had been upstairs.

  When Daniel threw the robe over her face, he pulled her against him, violently knocking the scream from Cherish’s lungs. “Take care of Brant,” he whispered. “Tell him I can’t allow myself to be chained again. Tell him I died in the light.”

  Then, with a shove that almost knocked her off her feet, he was gone. She moved into the tunnel as she heard him take the stairs up. She wanted to stop him, but she knew they would all die in only moments if she called Brant back.

  “Cherish?” Brant yelled in the blackness. “Are you following?”

  “Yes,” she cried as she fought back a scream. Her silence was letting Brant live just as it had months ago on the train. And once again Father Daniel was helping him es
cape.

  Smoke bellowed into the passage as they crawled onto the wet grass behind the barn. Brant lowered Grayson none too gently and the huge man groaned.

  “I told you, Yank, I’d never save your mean hide again and damn if I didn’t go and make a liar out of myself.” Brant laughed at the black soot that covered them both. “I can’t figure out how you boys managed to win the war with folks like you fighting.”

  The house caught flame like a huge bonfire, lighting the sky as bright as the sun.

  Brant looked around as Cherish crawled from the tunnel. He pulled the robe from her face and flung it over his shoulder. “Are you all right, baby?”

  Cherish folded herself into his arms, crying uncontrollably. She was covered with smoke, dust, and dirt, but she felt wonderful in his arms.

  “Where’s Daniel?” Brant watched the opening and Cherish could feel his body tighten.

  “He’s not coming.” Cherish bit her lip until it bled so that she could deliver Daniel’s message clearly. “He said to tell you he wanted to die in the light.”

  “No!” Brant screamed and started toward the tunnel.

  Cherish held him tight. “Stop! It’s too late. I heard him go back into the house.” He dragged her back toward the tunnel as she fought to hold him. “It’s too late!”

  Brant stopped suddenly as the house rattled in its last breath of life and crumbled into fiery rubble. Bright flames shot toward heaven, leaving a white light glowing for a moment where they’d been.

  People were everywhere, running, shouting.

  Grayson stood slowly and grabbed Brant’s arm. “Put on the robe,” he demanded.

  Brant shook his head, still staring at the fire. He could see no sign of Daniel, but he could feel the loss of him burning into his gut.

  Grayson grabbed the robe and shoved it over Brant. “Maybe it’s my turn to save your hide, reb.”

  With Grayson on one side of the “priest” and Cherish on the other, they moved toward the house.