by Tia Dani
Time's Enduring Love
Christine Eaton Jones and Beverly Petrone
Writing as Tia Dani
ISBN: 978-1-77145-141-3
PUBLISHED BY:
Books We Love Ltd.
Chestermere, Alberta, Canada
http://bookswelove.net
Copyright 2013 by Christine Eaton Jones and Beverly Petrone
Cover Art Copyright 2013 by Michelle Lee
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
* * *
We dedicate this book
to Christine's maternal grandmother, Elizabeth, whose
strong pioneering spirit created the premise for this book.
Chapter One
Pre-Territorial Kansas
Near The Smoky Hill Trail, 1846
Katherine Meyers stood a few yards away from the wagon camp and shaded her eyes against the relentless sun. Where are the children?
Perspiration trickled along the side of her face, over her jaw and neck to seep into the damp collar of her dress. Katherine swallowed to moisten the parched scratchiness in the back of her throat and inhaled a slow measured breath through her nose, hoping to help relieve the dryness. Pungent, motionless air, heavy with the scent of animals and cooking fires blistered the inside of her nose.
A stray lock of pale, blonde hair escaped Katherine's coiled braids and plastered against her moist skin. She brushed away the lock and scanned the dry prairie once more. Where were they? They should have returned by now.
She wished she had gone with her daughter and the other children to search for wild plums so she could make a cobbler. This morning she thought the chore would keep them occupied while the men spent the day repairing cracked and broken wheels and tongues. They were close to the homesteads where all the families could begin their new lives. Even the women voted to take a day of light work. The cobbler was her contribution to the celebration of their success to the long journey.
A breeze fanned her face, and a small bud of unease crept up her spine. Katherine spun in a circle seeing neither their hats, nor their heads bobbing above the tall grass. She hurried toward the wagons nestled in a stand of cottonwoods to find her husband. John would know where the children would search for plums. He always knew.
* * *
"Let's go. Joseph and Luke already left for camp with the plums. Your folks are gonna get worried. We're supposed to be back a long time ago."
Nine-year-old Matthew Domé removed the frayed hat John Meyers had given him and dragged his fingers through his dark black hair. On her hands and knees next to his feet, John and Katherine Meyers' four-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, watched a pair of caterpillars crawl along a low-growing bush. "Come on. Let's go watch your mom make her cobbler."
"Ooh, Matthew, look." Elizabeth smiled up at him. "Aren't they funny?" Beside her, lying on the ground, was the cloth doll which went everywhere with her. She gathered up Cleo and clasped her to her chest. "Come see."
Matthew sighed and dropped to his knees. Luke and Joseph were right. The little girl had him jumping through hoops. All it took was one look from her green eyes and he'd cave like old Mr. Jameson did whenever his new wife started simpering at him for whatever she wanted.
Matthew stared at her in bemusement. He knew his two friends snickered behind his back whenever Elizabeth bossed him, but he couldn't help himself. She made him feel needed. She trusted him, and trailed after him, as if he was the wagon master. Sometimes, when missing his parents hurt too bad, and he fought to keep the tears inside, Elizabeth seemed to be the one who knew. She'd put her arms around him and whisper, "It's gonna be okay. I'll always be here to love you."
"Matthew, you're not looking."
Matthew dutifully glanced at the fat, wiggly insects swaying on a branch. "Yeah, they're funny all right." He reached for Elizabeth's hand and pulled her with him as he stood. "We gotta go."
"But, I wanna see a baby rabbit. You promised you'd show me one." Elizabeth gave him a brilliant smile, her eyes twinkling in the sunlight. She lifted a small stubby finger in front of her freckled nose. "You told me you never...ever...break your promises."
He groaned. "You're worse than Mary Ellen."
Elizabeth straightened to her full height and stomped her foot. "I am not like Mary Ellen. Momma says Mary Ellen is spoiled."
At her quick show of temper, he grinned. She had spirit and wasn't afraid to let someone know it. "Yeah, I guess you're not spoiled. I'd say you're just right." He thought about what he said and quickly amended his sentence. "For a girl, I mean."
If Joseph and Luke got wind of what he'd said, his two friends would never let him live it down. "Okay, you win. We'll go find a baby rabbit. Then we head for the wagons." He gave her a glare like Joseph's father would do whenever they were underfoot. "And, I don't vant any back-a-sass from du, girl."
Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands. "Ooh, you sound like Mr. Basgal."
Without warning, she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you, Matthew. Forever and ever."
His chest constricted by her words. He bent and lightly kissed the top of her head. "I'll love you forever and ever, too. Now, come on. Let's go find a baby rabbit."
Minutes later, they crouched, side-by-side between two large rocks, half hidden from view. He whispered in her ear and pointed. "There’s one. See?"
Elizabeth nodded in wide-eyed wonder. Several feet away, a grey bunny moved slowly around a small hole. Two larger rabbits sat beyond. The baby's nose wiggled rapidly as it watched the older ones move away in slow hops, noses twitching close to the ground.
Elizabeth whispered, "Why are the momma and papa leaving?"
He smiled at her seriousness. "They're probably looking for food."
"Why are they leaving their baby behind?"
"'Cause it's safer."
Elizabeth glanced at the doll in her arms. "I'd never leave Cleo."
Matthew's smile widened. Her steadfast loyalty was another thing he liked. If she cared so much about a doll, she would undoubtedly care for her own family and never leave them like his parents did him. Someday, when they were both grown up, he'd marry her.
"Something smells." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and stood.
Matthew inhaled sharply. The stench of burnt grass irritated his nose. "We'd better get to the wagons."
Before he had a chance to pull her, she tugged on his hand, forcing him to turn around. "Over there. The sky's red and black!"
Matthew noticed the color of the horizon the same moment he felt a low rumbling beneath his feet.
Before them, all three rabbits bolted, disappearing into the tall prairie grass.
Panic pierced deep into his chest, nearly crushing him. He shoved Elizabeth in the direction the rabbits had sprinted. "Run, Elizabeth, as fast as you can. A fire is coming."
Without demanding her usual "why", she ran.
Matthew stumbled after her. The wagon master had warned them about prairie fires. He insisted everyone, including the children, participate in fire drills. But the practice sessions had been with adults nearby, not the two of them alone. He and his buddies looked at them as a way to break up the monotony. Now he understood why the adults took every command seriously. Prairie fires were not games.
Behind him, the fire storm gained speed, heading in the same direction they ran. Frantically, he searched for some kind of protection. At that pace no way could they outr
un the blaze.
Several panicked prairie hens burst from the tall grass, taking flight. As he ran, Matthew watched them go. The wagon master told them birds and animals had an instinct for danger. If they followed the birds they might find a way to escape.
One bird swooped downward, calling Matthew's attention to a small dirt cave half buried in the sloping ravine. Barren of any vegetation, the hole looked large enough for both of them to crawl into. Matthew grabbed hold of Elizabeth's shoulder, pulling her to a stop. "Over, there, go."
The little girl stumbled to a halt. She shook her head. "No. I want my momma and papa."
Bits of ash floated around them. A few landed on his cheek with stinging heat. "The fire's too fast. We have to hide. Once it's gone, we can go find your parents." He jerked her toward the cave. "Crawl in."
"No."
"Get in." He pushed her ahead of him. "It's safer in the back for you."
Hugging Cleo tight, Elizabeth wiggled in and he scooted behind her. When they could go no farther, he slid his legs on either side of her body and wrapped his arms around her. Hugging her close, he yelled in her ear, "I'll protect you. I promise." Her slight body trembled and he gave her another reassuring squeeze. "We’re safe. You'll see. Nothing will happen to us."
Black, nauseating smoke reached them first. Coughing, Matthew withdrew his handkerchief with a trembling hand and tied it around her mouth and nose. Lowering his head, he shouted in her ear, hoping she could understand him over the oncoming roar. "Breathe slowly, okay?"
Elizabeth nodded then twisted so she could bury her face against his shoulder. She lifted her hand and pressed it against his chest. "I'm scared."
"So am I. But it's almost over."
Searing heat seeped into the cave. Her fingers curled into his shirt. "It's burns. Hold me tight. Don't let go."
"I won't. I—"
Blinding flashes of brilliant reds and yellows exploded around them, followed instantaneously by an enormous inward suction of air. The floor of the cave lifted then jerked spasmodically as if being wrenched in several directions at once. The opposing forces tossed them over and over like his parent's wagon had when it had been caught in the flash flood.
Matthew finally landed on his back with a jarring thud stealing what breath he had. But it was in that still vacuum of awareness; he noticed his arms were empty. From a far, Elizabeth screamed his name then abruptly stopped.
Struggling for air, Matthew pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Darkness surrounded him. He rubbed his gritty eyes, trying to focus in the pitch blackness. "I'm coming, Elizabeth. Keep talking so I can find you."
For several heartbeats the silence continued. Then boulders and dirt rained down around him, slamming his body back into the ground, covering him. A large rock, with a jagged edge, slashed his forehead. More dirt followed. Mixture of blood and dirt darkened his eyes and his senses reeled. As he collapsed into a blackened crater, a horrifying thought flooded his mind. In a matter of seconds he would be dead and Elizabeth would be gone from him forever.
Chapter Two
Western Kansas, July, 1966
Libby Strammon twisted her mass of blonde hair into a bun and anchored it with several pins. Perspiration ran between her breasts to be absorbed by her already soaked bra. The hundred-plus-degree heat was tolerable outside, but in the truck's cab it was agonizing.
Fifteen grain trucks in front of her, and God knew how many behind, roared to life. Libby switched on her own truck's engine and shifted into first gear, letting her truck roll forward. Strains of 'Hey Paula' emerged from her transistor radio as the high squeal of metal brakes grinding on metal could be heard. She stomped simultaneously on the brake and clutch and let her truck roll to a stop inches away from the one in front.
Even though the line crawled at inches per hour, she was aware of commotion around her. Empty grain trucks rumbled past, returning to the cutting fields. Cab doors slammed, followed by voices calling out up and down the grain line. The snap of a baseball hitting a leather glove preceded a male voice singing off-key.
In the background, the grain elevator's huge dryer hummed, drying uncountable millions of tiny grains still too wet for storage. Libby inhaled deeply and smiled. The aroma of drying wheat lay heavy in the air, reminding her of her mother's baked bread. Harvest was in full swing, and she loved every minute of it.
"Hi."
At the unexpected voice, Libby twisted to the left. Standing by the truck's window was her younger cousin, Jenny Domé. "What are you doing in town?"
"Richard's combine broke down and needs a new part, so I rode with him to get it." Jenny grinned, her brown eyes full of mischievous humor. "We saw you in line and thought you might like to have this." She held up a pop bottle dripping with ice.
Libby grabbed the soda. "Jenny, you're a darling." She drank thirstily then ran the chilled bottle across her forehead, down her face, and around her neck. "Hmmm, it's heaven. Where's Richard?"
"At Howard's Implement picking up the part. He'll swing by here when he's ready to leave, but I'll ride back with you." Jenny scooted between the two trucks and opened the passenger door. As she hopped into the cab her dark ponytail danced with its usual exuberance over her shoulder. "Richard wants to get married now that we’ve graduated high school. Should I say yes?"
Libby choked then swallowed. "Why ask me? You two have been together since seventh grade. I'd think you'd know whether you love him or not. Have you shared this with your parents?"
Jenny studied her fingernail. "Not yet. We wanted your opinion first. You’ve already done the college thing.”
Libby grimaced. "I wouldn’t say my college years were all that exciting. I was too busy proving to myself I could go to medical school."
"Hey, guys, miss me?"
Both of them jumped as the passenger door was wrenched open and a broadly built young man with sandy blond hair leaned into the cab.
"Richard." Jenny punched his shoulder. "Don't do that. You scared us."
"Ouch, lady." Richard rubbed his shoulder but his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I've got news."
Libby knew how mischievous Richard Basgal could be. She instantly went on guard. "What?"
"The Strammon, Domé and Basgal families are going to be filmed by the Kansas Historical Society during the Founder's Day Celebration. And...get this...we're going to be in full costume."
* * *
A sweet smelling August breeze brushed against Libby's face as she sat on the wooden swing beside her father. Harvest had ended. Now came the time to relax. After many long days, late nights, and lots of high tension, it seemed right to do nothing. Except enjoy the county fair and upcoming Founder's Day Celebration. Earlier tonight they'd attended the Remembrance Dance held at the county hall.
She ran a hand down the beautiful 1800's style blue taffeta costume Jenny's mother made for her. This year's festivities marked exactly one hundred years ago when her dad's ancestors arrived by stage and were involved with a battle between Kansas Volunteers and renegade Indians.
Tomorrow’s festivities would climax with the reenactment of the attack on Dead Horse Station. She and her father would play the part of his ancestors.
The idea of the reenactment being filmed thrilled her. Libby glanced at her gray-haired father with pride. He looked so attractive in his outfit. Aunt Mary had outdone herself with his brown worsted-wool traveling suit with a soft-brushed felt derby. Both costumes looked identical to the originals on display in the court house museum.
She scooted across the swing and rested her head against her father's broad shoulder. "It's peaceful tonight, isn't it?"
"Uh huh." He sent the swing swaying with his foot. "Pretty peaceful."
A sudden swell of love for the quiet man filled her soul. Libby kissed his weather-beaten cheek.
He quirked an eyebrow then smiled. "What was that for?"
"For being the most wonderful father a girl could have."
"Why thank you, honey. You're pretty spe
cial yourself."
"I mean it. You're the best."
"You're glad to be home, I take it."
She released a loud sigh and leaned back. "You know, there wasn't a day in med school when I didn't think about home."
"Having second thoughts about being a doctor?" His brows pinched showing concern.
"No, I'm still determined. Only this summer I wanted to help you with the harvest, to be part of reaping the fruits of man's labor for a change, not repairing his destruction."
Her father seemed to understand but said nothing.
"And, Doctor Breitman's job offer is a dream come true. After all my hard work, the state boards are the last step." She knocked on the swing’s wooden slates. "I'll pass them come hell or high water."
"Doc’s impressed by you. When I spoke with him last month, he couldn't stop talking about how gifted your surgical abilities are." Pride ran through his voice. "Says you're the best intern to walk into his hospital in years."
Libby smiled. "And, me, a woman, too. Can you believe it?"
"Certainly." He gave her a hug. "Your mom and I believed you were meant for something special. We raised you to think the same."
"You succeeded." She made a wide, dramatic sweep of her hand. "I'm like Strammon land, productive and prosperous. In some ways," she grinned, "You and Mom cultivated my life to be like your fields." Her grin widened. "So I could do nothing but become a bumper crop."
"A bumper crop." He burst out laughing. "Libby, what a way to compare yourself."
The evening breeze stirred and blew across their faces. Her father frowned and stopped the swing. He stood and stepped to the edge of the porch. "Wind's coming up. A storm’s brewing." He climbed down the steps and studied the sky. "I reckon I best check the well pump I put in yesterday for the cattle on the south range. If we get any heavy rain, I want to make sure it's running properly."