Open Road

by M. M. Holaday

  “You’re a good man,” Gus whispered when they had him settled.

  Jeb rested his hand on Gus’s shoulder. “So are you.” He felt a lump form in his throat. Jeb knew he had just said good-bye to his old friend.

  Meg began to cry softly. “Gus, what can I do?”

  “Come here and let me hold you, darlin’. ’Cept I can’t move my arm, so you’ll have to put it around yourself.”

  She climbed in next to him and wrapped his right arm around her like she was a little girl. She rested her head on his chest.

  His breathing was shallow. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Gus looked up at the ceiling and said, “You know, Meggie, I’ve lived my life backwards. Back when I was young, I lost my hand and started living like an old man. Then you came along and I became the father of a young lady. Then I got to bounce your babies on my knee, just like a new young papa . . . and now, now that I’m really, finally old, I’ve fallen in love again like a seventeen-year-old boy.” He closed his eyes. Jeb could tell he labored to breathe.

  Meg held on to him tight, as though to keep death from grabbing him away from her. “You’re everything to me.” Her voice trembled. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I love you so.”

  “You were part of all my good days, darlin’; that’s a fact. I’m mighty glad I could . . .” He cringed again and whispered urgently. “. . . glad I could see you all grown up, with a family . . . tell Etta I’m sorry we didn’t marry, will you? The boys, too, they’re fine boys . . .” Gus gasped for a breath, then, and grabbed her hand.

  “Gus! Don’t leave me!”

  “Never, Meggie . . .” he whispered. Those were his last words.

  Jeb sat down next to Meg and gathered her into his arms as she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Meggie.”

  “My heart is breaking, Jeb. It hurts so much.”

  Jeb nodded. “I know.”

  Running Elk and Wash dug a grave at the piñon tree as Gray Wolf chanted and the boys stood by. Jeb sat on the porch with Meg, who quietly chanted along. Together they built a bridge to the next world for Gus, creating a passage for him, connecting the two worlds, she said. Finally, she walked up the hill, holding Jeb’s arm. She gently took the shovel from Wash and dug up a few shovels of dirt.

  “Did I ever tell you boys that the first time I met your pa, I was digging a grave? He was so kind to me. Your pa helped me dig a grave for a couple of settlers neither one of us knew, but who had died and deserved a proper burial. So there we were. Do you know who I wrote to that very week, telling him all about meeting your pa and Uncle Win? Gus. Gus has been watching over us from the very beginning, and he’s going to keep on doing just that. His spirit is in the wind, all around us.”

  When their friends from town arrived, they buried Gus under the piñon tree. It was the official family cemetery—where their babies were buried, and Meg’s beloved horse. Now her oldest and dearest friend rested there, too.

  That evening, Jeb and Meg and the boys sat out on the porch together. Off in the distance, they heard drums. Running Elk and Wash had ridden back with Gray Wolf with the news. The Arapaho honored Gus, a white man, as they would their own. The drumbeat was like a heartbeat, connecting creatures and Creator. The Dawson family sat silently on the porch well into the night, listening to the drums beat like the Earth’s pulse.

  Jeb startled Miss Sinclair when he stopped in at the schoolhouse. The children had been dismissed for the day and she was washing the blackboards. Jeb knew from the change in her expression exactly what she was thinking . . . and hoping. For a brief moment when she heard him, she thought Gus had walked in. It was hard for Jeb to believe he was gone, too.

  “Miss Sinclair, I apologize for the intrusion.” Jeb removed his hat.

  “Nonsense,” she said, without the firm tone the word usually carried with it. “Please come in.”

  Jeb stood in the center of her classroom, hat in hand. If he acted embarrassed, she would just feel ashamed, he thought. He stood tall and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry Gus was taken from you, Miss Sinclair.” There was nothing in his voice that held any judgment. She accepted his condolences. He took a deep breath and said, “I could use your help, ma’am. Meg is having a tough time. She’s . . . drifting.”

  “She doesn’t want to move forward because it means leaving Gus behind.” Miss Sinclair seemed to be familiar with the feeling.

  “Yes, ma’am. I didn’t know how to say it, but that’s it exactly. It’s different from grief. It’s a little like having no wind to fill the sails, or a broken rudder.”

  “That’s interesting imagery from a man born and raised in a landlocked prairie,” she said with a sad smile.

  Jeb nodded and returned a faint smile. “It’s all those pirate stories from my youth, I guess. Win and I were sailors in our imaginations long before we came out here.” Jeb cleared his throat and said, “Whatever it is, I just know she misses Gus, and so do you. You two have a lot in common . . . your love of books, children, and Gus. Meg can’t quite bring herself to reach out to you, so I’m asking you to do what she can’t.”

  “You don’t think I’ll bring more pain to her? Be a reminder?”

  “I think your company is exactly what she needs.”

  “I’ll give it some thought,” she said. Jeb turned to leave. “Thank you, Mr. Dawson, for . . . for everything.” She didn’t say it out loud, but Jeb figured she was thanking him for not judging her, for helping Gus get home, for not spreading gossip, and for being kind.

  “Love is powerful, ma’am. You may not feel this way right now, but we’re the lucky ones—the ones who can love and be loved.” He put on his hat and left.

  On the ride home, a breeze circled around him and he thought he heard Gus whistling.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: MEG

  Dawson Ranch, Summer 1882

  “Would you show me your barn?” Etta surprised Meg with the unusual request.

  “Why, of course.” Meg and the teacher rose from the porch swing they shared and strolled across the yard. Jeb signaled from the edge of the meadow that he and the boys were headed for their fishing spot by raising a pole over his head. Buddy and Billy lingered at Miss Sinclair’s side just long enough to receive a scratch behind the ear before Jeb whistled to them and they bounded off in his direction. Charlie, always full of life, waved to the women like the stand of quaking aspen into which he disappeared.

  Etta called on the Dawsons regularly. The first time she visited was painful for both women, but the persistent schoolteacher and Meg eventually discovered they had more in common than their shared loss. Meg felt Gus’s presence whenever Etta was around, and was comforted by it, but she also liked Etta’s company.

  Meg swung open the door and they stepped inside.

  Etta breathed deeply. “I like the smell of fresh straw.” She looked around. “You keep your barn very clean.”

  “Well, the boys just mucked the stalls. You came at a good time.” Meg tried to be lighthearted, but saw Etta wistfully stroke the tack hanging neatly on the wall and knew her friend must be missing Gus terribly. “Gus taught me how to clean and oil tack when I was just a little girl, and to keep the stable clean. You’d think someone so fastidious would be stern and strict, but he wasn’t at all. Much like the way you teach, Etta—you have high expectations, yet you show nothing but warmth and kindness.”

  “Thank you for those sweet words, dear. I think he and I were alike in many ways.”

  Etta’s fingers lingered on the tack for a moment. “Well . . .” She sighed heavily. “You might find it strange, but I just missed his smell. Gus always smelled of soap and newly laundered shirts, but what I liked most was the subtle hint of fresh straw and the oil he used on the tack. Am I becoming . . . peculiar, as Georgia calls it?”

  “Not at all.” Meg loved Etta’s candor. “I come out here often for that very reason.”

  “I wouldn’t wonder if you spent every waking moment out here. I feel him here, don’t you? It feels good
. I should become a horsewoman like you if I were a few years younger!” Etta smiled broadly, a woman who had found peace.

  The teacher’s words lingered on Meg’s mind, even into the next day as she swept the floors, the broom heavy in her hands. Cleaning sapped Meg’s energy in a way that working in the barn or riding never did. She stayed away from horseback riding for fear of damaging any fragile new life growing inside her, and, yet, despite all the precautions taken, she had not been able to bear more children.

  Meg peered out the bedroom window. The boys had come home from school and were hanging on the corral fence, watching Jeb work with a young colt. I wouldn’t wonder if you spent every waking moment out here . . . a horsewoman like you. Etta’s words rang in her head. On impulse, she abandoned her broom and searched through the chest and found her old breeches. The buttery soft feel stirred a long dormant energy inside her.

  To the boys’ surprise, she arrived at the barn wearing her old boots, jacket, and riding breeches. She announced she was taking Neighbor for a ride.

  “Want company?” Jeb gave her a curious look.

  Meg shook her head and saddled Gus’s favorite horse. She climbed into the saddle and rode out of the barn, excitement building inside her.

  Neighbor had a fluid gait, much like Biscuit’s. She steered him to where the terrain flattened out and gave him the signal. He took off as though he read her mind.

  Meg leaned forward and held on. She still had good balance. Her hat blew off and dangled behind her, the leather tie abrasive against her neck. The sun warmed her face and the wind pressed her jacket against her body. Every step Neighbor took jolted and jarred her older body. She hadn’t bound her breasts and she didn’t have the same strength she had with younger legs, but she felt intoxicated by the thrill of riding again. She closed her eyes briefly. In the wind, she thought she heard Gus whooping with delight. Exhilaration washed over her.

  The boys jumped off the fence when she rode back into the yard. “Ma, I didn’t know you could ride like that!” James said. Charlie’s face was washed with awe.

  Jeb’s eyes met hers. Jeb always understood.

  That evening, after the boys were asleep, he pulled her close and she responded like she used to before Gus died. She lay in his arms afterward and said it was good to feel alive again.

  “You haven’t ridden like that for years. I know it’s because you’ve wanted another baby.” Jeb said the words softly, undoubtedly because the subject of babies usually made Meg cry. He kissed the top of her head as she rested her head on his shoulder. “When I saw you ride today, it made me think. We have two healthy sons. I think we should count our blessings and figure this is going to be our family. We’ve lost two, maybe three babies, counting that time last year. I’d rather see you riding again, if that’s what you want. I know how much you wanted more children, but you’ve been so careful, and it just hasn’t worked.”

  Meg wanted more children, but her attempts to stay pregnant left her too cautious to live the life she already had. Maybe it was time to move on.

  “We do have two fine boys, don’t we? James will be twelve soon . . . Can you believe how fast the time has gone? I’ve been thinking about it, too, Jeb. I so wanted a little girl, but you’re right. I’ve been treating my body like it was made of glass, trying to keep the babies safe and growing inside me with no luck. I’d rather spend my time with you and the boys training the horses. We’re going to need help, now that Gus is gone. Frankly, I’d rather hire a woman to work in the house than take on another ranch hand. What do you think about that?”

  True to his nature, Jeb said it was worth a try, because a content and satisfied man is a generous man. He added that they might have trouble finding ranch hands who would work with Running Elk and Wash anyway. Training horses wasn’t typical woman’s work, but hiring an Arapaho and a Pawnee wasn’t typical, either. Besides, she knew better than anyone how to get a little filly to behave.

  “Will you promise me something, though?” His voice sounded happy. “You still make the pies, ok? There’s no one who can make peach pie better than you.”

  Anne Wallace responded to the notice Jeb posted outside the general store in Cheyenne. A capable young woman, Anne was hired to cook meals and clean house. She was the oldest of twelve children, which meant she had been cooking, washing, and caring for her younger siblings for as long as she could remember. It soured her to the idea of doing it all over again with a husband, she told Meg candidly at her interview. Instead of marriage providing her with financial security, she hoped a job with the Dawsons would.

  Meg liked the fact that Anne took charge. Efficient and thorough, Anne preferred to work alone and decide her daily schedule for herself. She didn’t live on the ranch, but rented a room at the new boarding house in town. Every day except Sunday, she arrived after breakfast, which Meg still prepared. Anne cleaned, washed clothes, and cooked the noon dinner and evening supper. She emerged from the kitchen at the end of each day with fresh bread cooling on the counter and supper ready to be served. Anne would ask perfunctorily if there were anything else Meg needed, and without more than a few pleasant exchanges, she’d be off in her carriage. Anne freed Meg from the burden of domestic chores. Meg adored her for it.

  The arrangement allowed Meg to work with Jeb and the horses. Now, after breakfast, Anne arrived to clean up, the boys left for school, and she headed to the barn with Jeb. Wash and Running Elk had a little trouble adjusting at first. Gus could tell a good off-color joke and was easy to be around. But after they saw the way she handled the yearlings and the way she coaxed a bridle on the two year olds, they had a change of heart. They also seemed to prefer Anne’s cooking over hers, their increased appetites and frequent compliments as evidence.

  It didn’t take long for Meg to return to the familiar routine she had known years earlier. She preferred oiling tack to washing pots. Meg and Jeb went riding nearly every day in the mountains. Jeb would ride one of the newly trained horses to put him through his paces before selling to the livery. She rode Neighbor.

  A letter arrived from Win in early July. Everyone gathered together on the porch to listen. Even Anne joined them, which surprised Meg, as she was not inclined to intrude in family business. As was their custom, Jeb sat on the railing and read the letter to everyone. Meg closed her eyes to listen.

  June 7, 1882

  Dear Jeb and Meg, James and Charlie, Wash and Running Elk,

  There are no words to express my sadness when I received Jeb’s letter and learned that we lost our beloved Gus. I can only imagine your sorrow in particular, dearest Meggie. He was truly one of the best men I’ve ever known. I will miss his wisdom and his company. I will be unable to write this letter if I continue, so although I write of other news, please know we are together in our grief. There is no easy way to lose a loved one. When the love is great, the loss is, too.

  Mentioning Gus stirred a mixture of happy memories and sad emptiness in Meg that she figured would never go away completely. She realized Jeb had stopped reading. She opened her eyes to discover him watching her. “I’m all right, Jeb.” She smiled weakly. He turned his attention back to the letter and found his place.

  I am grateful and honored to be kept abreast of the events in your lives, both the good and the tragic. As Gus related to us once, joy is doubled and sorrow is halved when it is shared. I am reminded of that adage every time I find a letter for me at whatever headquarters I work from. For that reason, I hope that relaying my news will bring you some happiness in the midst of your sorrow.

  I had the unexpected surprise and enormous pleasure of running into some old friends in the bustling train depot of Chicago. I rounded a corner and collided with the most charming young woman, knocking her hat askew. Pushing her hat back in place, her eyes immediately grew as large as saucers and she cried out with enthusiasm,“Mr. Avery! I can’t believe it!” If you haven’t guessed by now, I will reveal that it was our own Lizzie Moberg, all grown up. She had been east for the
summer visiting relatives and had just arrived in the city herself. She was waiting for her parents to arrive from Milwaukee so they could all travel back to Oregon together. As I had the evening free, I sat with Lizzie while she waited for her folks to arrive. You can just imagine the look on their faces when Glenn and Grace saw their daughter with an old scout from trail days. After receiving more embraces from the female sex than a man deserves in one day, we all had dinner together and I filled them in about the Dawson family. Grace was so happy, she wept tears of joy. She sends everyone her love, but especially you, Meg. She said she always knew life would turn out well for you, as long as you married either Jeb or me. Actually, I made up that last part just to annoy Jeb. What she really said was that she was most happy for you. I would agree; even as we ache in our hearts and say good-bye to Gus, you must see the joy you’ve brought to all of our lives, and I hope you find some peace in that.

  The Mobergs are well and happy. Years ago, they ended their journey by prairie schooner close to a little town of Oakdale, where they purchased land and started farming. The farm next to theirs happened to be owned by a family with four sons, and Lizzie is in love with the second eldest, Stephen. He has proposed marriage and she has accepted. They plan to wed after harvest.

  I have more news to share, but instead of writing, I think I will give you all the details in person. I have decided to come “home,” if you’ll allow me to call it that. I have some time before I’m needed at my next assignment, and I should prefer to spend it with all of you, if you don’t mind. I plan to arrive in early August. I hope this letter reaches you before I do, so Meg can start on one of her peach pies.

  Fondly,

  Win

  “Uncle Win’s coming? Yippee!” Charlie jumped off the porch and started dancing a Pawnee dance Wash had been teaching him.