Glory

by Lori Copeland

  Instead of Jackson’s powerful build, she encountered something furry. Startled, she drew back. The elk. Struggling to her knees, she crawled to the dead animal. Breaking into sobs, she laid her head against the carcass and bawled with relief. Thank you, God, thank you!

  Crawling back to the mare, she grabbed a stirrup, pulled her stiff body upright, and fumbled in the saddlebags for Jackson’s skinning knife. Jackson. Where was Jackson?

  She jerked the knife free, then dropped back to her knees and inched back to the elk. Within minutes, she’d cut through sternum, muscle, cartilage, and entered the stomach cavity. She worked methodically, scooping armfuls of entrails onto the ground. The knife sliced cleanly through hide, blessed substance that could save their lives.

  “It’s all right, Jackson. The Lord has sent us help,” she called over her shoulder as she gutted the animal. “We’re not going to die.”

  When the elk was field dressed, she crawled back to the mare, her hands blindly searching for Jackson. She found his unconscious form lying near the animal’s hooves.

  Struggling to her feet, she grasped him under his arms and pulled.

  Pulled.

  Pulled.

  Straining and pulling, she edged him only inches with each step. His weight resisted her slim frame and threatened to undo her.

  Pausing.

  Pulling.

  Finally she had him beside the carcass. Digging into the snow, she scraped a round ball into her hand, then pressed it against his wrist wound, praying that the cold would stop the bleeding until morning light. Summoning her last shred of strength, she rolled his still form inside the elk and crawled in beside him.

  Lying spoonlike in the warm hollow space, Glory wrapped his arms around her waist and shoved, inching them farther back into the life-saving warmth before she, too, lost consciousness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ruth paced the mercantile porch, keeping an eye peeled on the edge of town. The soles of her boots scraped the planked floor as she strode back and forth, wringing her hands.

  The mercantile door opened, and Dylan McCall came out. He paused when he saw her state, a slow grin spreading across his rugged features. Ruth saw him and turned to stare in the opposite direction.

  Pulling the door closed behind him, Dylan joined her. “You still fretting? Jackson knows how to survive in the wilds.”

  She spared him the briefest of glances, then returned to her vigil. She’d been edgy and cranky all day, worrying herself to death about Glory and Jackson. Lord, I trust you’ve held them in your care, but why don’t they come? “It’s been a week. They should have been here by now.”

  The marshall calmly adjusted the brim of his hat. “Not necessarily. Snow could have held them up. We just got to Denver City a couple of days ago ourselves.”

  She paused to face him. Hands on hips, looking vexed, she spouted, “We started from the same place at the same time. Snow delayed our arrival a few days, but not a week. We’re here; Jackson and Glory aren’t. They could be lying out there dead, for all we know.”

  “Not exactly at the same time. Jackson took off in the opposite direction. No telling how far he rode before he caught up with Glory and Amos.”

  “If, if he caught up!” Dropping her hands, she resumed pacing.

  Dylan pulled up a chair and sat down. He removed his hat and carefully settled it on his knee. His relaxed position clearly didn’t set well with the serious brunette. Ruth shot him an annoyed look.

  He lifted his palms defensively. “What? I’m just trying to stay calm.”

  “If you were any calmer, they’d be shoveling dirt in your face, Dylan McCall.” She craned to see around the porch post. Where were they? Lord, I can’t stand the suspense a moment longer!

  “All right. I surrender. Stew till you lose your mind. I won’t say another word.” Dylan crossed one leg over the other, folded his arms, and stared at Ruth. The arrogant posture only angered her more, and she stared back. He lifted a brow. “Now I suppose you’re going to tell me there’s a law against a man sitting on a porch?”

  “Can’t you find someone else to annoy?”

  He appeared to consider it and then shook his head. “No, I get my enjoyment stepping on your nerves.”

  “Oooph!” Ruth gathered up her skirt and moved to the far corner of the porch.

  Grinning, Dylan took out a toothpick and stuck it between his lips, rolling it to the corner of his mouth. “Yes, sir, Ruth. I’m as calm as pudding.”

  Across the street, Lily, Patience, and Mary came out of the café. Harper lagged behind, talking to the owner, a small, frail lady who was raising a nine-year-old granddaughter.

  “Did you hear the questions Harper was asking Mrs. Katsky?” Lily asked. “You’d almost think she was interested in buying the café.”

  “It would be a perfect job for her,” Patience admitted. The three girls agreed there wasn’t another woman on earth who could make a better apple pie.

  “Her pot roasts cannot be beat,” Mary confessed. “Only Harper can’t buy a café. She doesn’t have any money.”

  The girls smiled when they saw the pastor coming across the street. Smiling in turn, Arthur Siddons hurried to greet them.

  “Hello, Pastor Siddons,” Lily called.

  “Hello, girls! Been searching all over for you!” The balding, plumpish sixty-year-old paused before them, his round face beaming.

  Patience waited for him to catch his breath. “Was there something special you wanted, Pastor?”

  “Yes, yes!” He took her hand, squeezing it firmly. “I’ve just come from a meeting. The church board wants me to extend an invitation to you ladies to remain here in Denver City for the winter.”

  Delighted smiles lit the women’s faces. “That’s wonderful, Pastor Siddons!” Patience sobered. “But how? We have no means of support—”

  “We discussed that,” Pastor conceded. “Tom Wyatt is a heinous man, and unfortunately we have no control over what he and his no-account boys do, but the folks of Denver City are good people. We want to extend our hospitality until spring. By then you ladies will have decided what you’ll need to do, and the weather will be more cooperative.” He pulled his collar up closer against the bitter wind. “Harry Rexell says he can use a hand at the mercantile, and Rosalee Edwards said she’s going to need extra help at the millinery over the holidays. Imagine we can find enough work to keep you all busy until spring!”

  “Oh, thank you!” Patience threw her arms around the older man’s neck and hugged him.

  Red-faced, the pastor stepped back, grinning lamely. “Oh, my, it’s our pleasure, miss. Having five pretty new faces in town won’t hurt the feelings of our single men one bit. Five eligible ladies, I might add.”

  “Six,” Mary reminded softly.

  The girls looked at each other, sobering.

  “Six, when Glory gets here.”

  Pastor Siddons nodded. “Your friends still haven’t arrived?” He shook his head, making a clucking noise. “We can send a search party now that the weather’s broken—”

  “Thank you, Pastor. Marshall McCall insists that they’re all right and will ride in any time. I’ll talk to the marshall again, and we’ll let you know what we decide.”

  “Good, good.” Pastor Siddons rubbed his gloved hands together. “May I tell the church that you will stay? They can’t wait to lend a Christian hand. Why, old Mrs. Guffey already has all of you down for Christmas dinner at her house. She cooks a mighty fine turkey.”

  Patience glanced at Lily and Mary. The girls nodded happily. “And I’m sure Harper will be happy to stay. She might even find work at the café.”

  Pastor Siddons clamped a hand over his heart and nearly swooned. “Etta Katsky would be plumb tickled pink to find good help. She’s trying to get by with her nine-year-old granddaughter waiting tables, but she’s getting worn to a nubbin with all the extra work.”

  Mary stepped closer, extending her hand. “Thank you for all your kindness,
Pastor Siddons. I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”

  “You’re welcome, Mary. And Doc says he wants to see you at his office this morning. Thinks he might have something for that cough.”

  Siddons walked on, calling a friendly greeting to a young couple coming across the street.

  Patience, Lily, and Mary walked on, casting curious looks toward the mercantile.

  “Poor Ruth. She hasn’t slept a wink for the last week.”

  “She’s terribly worried.”

  “We all are.”

  Patience frowned. “Don’t know who she’s more worried about, Jackson or Glory.”

  “Everyone’s worried sick about both,” Lily said. “What can be keeping them?” Silence overtook them since no one dared to speak of the dire possibilities.

  Lily finally whispered under her breath. “Does it seem to you that Dylan is awfully interested in Ruth? They argue constantly, but I think they really like each other.”

  Mary and Patience spared a brief glance in the direction of the mercantile porch, and then looked straight ahead. A giggle escaped Mary.

  “What’s so funny?” Lily asked.

  “Ruth and Dylan. She’s so serious and he’s so … not serious, unless he’s doing his job. They would make a fine pair.”

  The thought of their contrasting natures resulted in a round of giggles.

  Lily jabbed Patience’s ribs. “Shhh, they’ll hear us!”

  “Can’t help it,” Patience gasped. “Wouldn’t that be something? Ruth and Dylan married?”

  Dylan shifted the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. Leaning back in the chair, he watched Lily, Patience, and Mary walking on the opposite side of the street. Fine girls. They’d make some lucky men good wives one of these days.

  “So, Ruth. What do you think about the price of corn?”

  Ruth slowly turned around to look at him. “What?”

  He lifted his brows. “What do you think about the price of corn?”

  “I haven’t an earthly idea what corn sells for these days.”

  “What about an unearthly one?”

  She gave him a dirty look.

  “None, huh.” He removed the toothpick and stared at it.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to know the price of corn?”

  “I don’t. Just trying to find a subject we can discuss without ruffling your feathers.”

  “Don’t even try.” Ruth turned back to watching the road. “And corn certainly won’t do it.”

  “There’s got to be something I can say that won’t get your dander up—”

  “Try ‘I’ll be leaving now, Ruth.’” She brushed past him, nearly toppling his chair, and he had to grab for the railing.

  Springing to his feet, he spit the toothpick on the floor and yelled at her disappearing skirts. “Come on, Ruth! Hey, you want to get married? We get along so well; we would make a fine—where’s your faith, woman?”

  He ducked, grinning as an apple sailed over his head and hit the front window of the mercantile. Scowling, Harry Rexell burst out a second later, broom in hand.

  Dylan turned and innocently pointed at Ruth.

  Snatching her skirt in her hand, she stalked off to the other end of the wraparound porch.

  Grinning, Dylan flipped Harry a coin. “For the lady’s apple.”

  Pocketing the coin, Harry stared after Ruth sourly. “Well, tell her that around here, we prefer to eat ’em, not throw ’em at folks’ windows.”

  The men turned at the sound of a horse galloping into town. Shouts went up as Patience, Lily, and Mary ran to meet the new arrivals.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Glory slowed and walked the mare through the center of town with Jackson, bandaged hand and all, riding behind her.

  “Where have you been?” Patience shouted, running beside the horse. Lily and Mary raced to keep up.

  “Had a little trouble, but we’re here now,” Glory called back. Her eyes darted to Mary. “Don’t run, Mary! You’ll start coughing!”

  Ruth raced around the corner, holding her skirts. Her eyes lit when she recognized the riders. “Glory! Jackson! Praise God you’re all right!”

  “Saw me an angel, Ruth!”

  Ruth frowned. “You what?”

  Glory beamed. “Saw me an angel! Looked a little like Poppy!”

  A curious crowd started to gather. Patience, Lily, Mary, and Ruth pressed close as Glory dismounted and helped Jackson from the saddle.

  “What’s wrong? We were about to send a search party after you,” Patience exclaimed.

  Ruth enfolded Glory, and the two women hugged. “I was so scared something had happened,” Ruth whispered.

  “We got caught in the blizzard. Jackson was wounded and lost a lot of blood. We couldn’t travel for a few days. I’m sorry if we worried you.”

  “What’s this about an angel?”

  Glory pressed her ear close to Ruth’s. “Tell you all about it later on. Right now, Jackson needs attention.”

  They shared another brief embrace, and Ruth said softly, “Just so you’re safe; that’s all that matters.”

  Ruth turned her eyes on Jackson. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine, Ruth.” He glanced at Glory and smiled. “She took good care of me.”

  Glory flushed at the praise. “Shucks, anyone could do what I did. Used the snow and my hankie to stop the bleeding. The good Lord provided us an elk to keep us from freezing. When the storm passed, we set out and came to a cabin, where an old hermit who knew about herbs and such helped us.”

  Dylan joined the noisy reunion. He clapped Jackson on the back, relief evident in his eyes. “About to send the dogs out,” he said.

  Jackson smiled. “I was about to hope you would.” The men exchanged a few brief words in private.

  “Better have that hand looked at,” someone in the crowd suggested.

  “Doc’s in his office now.”

  The crowd cheered as Glory put her arm around Jackson to help support his weight and led him across the street.

  “I can walk,” he protested under his breath. “Stop mothering me.”

  “Plan to—just as soon as I know you’re going to live,” she whispered back. Leaning closer, she added, “Put too much effort in you to lose you now.”

  Grinning, he met her eyes and said quietly, “Lady, you couldn’t lose me if you tried.”

  Dylan caught up with Ruth as she walked toward the café. “I’m waiting.”

  “For what? The price of corn? I told you, I don’t know anything about corn.”

  “For an apology. I told you Jackson and Glory were all right.”

  Color dotted her cheeks. “Don’t start with me, Dylan. For all you knew, they could have both been dead.”

  “But they weren’t.”

  “They could have been!”

  Grinning, he looked hurt. “Are we going to fight, or are you going to kiss me good-bye?”

  Her footsteps faltered. Slowing, she turned to face him. Her features softened. “Are you leaving?”

  Their eyes met and held. The teasing light was gone from his. “A wire came through about half an hour ago. I’m due in San Francisco in a few weeks. Now that Jackson and Glory are back safe, I have to move on.”

  Color drained from her face. “But the weather. It’s so bad—”

  Laying a finger across her lips, he said quietly, “Take care of yourself, Ruth.”

  Nodding, she caught his hand and held it for a moment, her eyes closed. “Be careful, Dylan McCall.”

  “You know me, Ruthie. I’m always careful.”

  She looked up, tears moistening her eyes. “No one calls me Ruthie unless they’re given permission.”

  Leaning closer, he whispered against her ear, “That’s my next project.”

  She swallowed back tears. “Will I ever see you again?”

  Smiling, he took her hand, and they walked to his saddled horse standing in front of the
livery. After swinging into the saddle, he finally released her hand. A cocky grin surfaced. “Why, Ruth, I could swear that’s an invitation. Am I hearing things?”

  Meeting his eyes, Ruth glowered. “Of course you are. Why would I ever want to see the likes of your no-good hide ever again?”

  His features gradually turned serious. “I’ll be back come spring. Will you be here?”

  She lifted her chin saucily. “Guess you’ll just have to come back and find out.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughed, his breath a frosty vapor in the cold mountain air. Turning his horse, he looked back over his shoulder and winked. “Did I mention I have two single brothers looking for wives?”

  Her hands came to her hips. “And why should that matter to me?”

  “Thought Patience and Lily might like to know. Chances are they’ll be riding with me next spring. They’re both even ornerier than me!” Nudging his horse, he rode out of town, his laughter still ringing.

  Ruth turned and went into the mercantile, glancing over her shoulder.

  But only once.

  Two days later Glory and Jackson rode his horse up a narrow trail to the foothills. They tied the animal to a pine and swept the snow off a large flat rock to settle down and enjoy the view. The sun sparkled on the clear, wide stream and the mounds of white banks below. Pines hung heavy with new-fallen snow.

  “Do you want to stay here with the other girls?” Jackson asked.

  Glory sighed and shrugged. She’d been giving it a lot of thought. Patience and Mary had begged her to stay; Ruth had said she could make a new life in Denver City as well as anywhere else. Trouble was, there was only one thing she really wanted to do, and that wasn’t possible.

  “I do and I don’t. I’ll miss the girls something awful when I go, but I feel restless, like I haven’t reached my destination. Does that make sense to you?”

  He nodded. “To a man who’s traveled most of his life, that makes sense.”

  “I suppose you’ll go back to Missouri to lead another wagon train,” she said wistfully.

  “No, been thinking about giving that up.” He grinned at her playfully. “I’m tired of cross-country travel. This last trip about did me in.”

  “You mean us women.”