by Jo Noelle
When she stopped, she was in the ice house, sitting on a bale of straw. Since Kailin and Rayna were already in her room, Eliza couldn’t go there yet. She swiped her eyes, but it didn’t help. She folded herself in half and cried into her skirt.
KC hadn’t ever looked at her as broken. She’d seen that look many times—men who noticed her as she sat or stood only to curl their lip when she moved. Now she knew that KC didn’t seem to notice her limp, not because he didn’t care about that but because it wasn’t of any concern to him. For a few weeks, she’d allowed herself to dream once again of her own home and family. That dream was good and truly gone.
The room began to brighten, and a man in working dungarees and a floppy leather hat stood in front of her. His whiskers were white as was his hair. He glowed with light but also soothing compassion. Her heart jumped. Who was he? How did he get in here? The light continued to grow and fill her with warmth, relaxing the worry that had begun to grow.
“I’m not here for you exactly, but I couldn’t see this go on and not say something. I’m KC’s guardian angel, but this here’s a free sample for you.”
Eliza felt the comfort of love diluting the disappointment from moments ago in the barn.
“Maybe you could take a page out of the Good Lord’s words to Samuel. ‘For the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.’”
The words were filled with acceptance and comfort. She hated that people treated her differently. They talked about her being a captive, and some wouldn’t talk with her because she was beneath them. Whenever she limped, people got nervous and silent.
“You’re right. I need to stop worrying what other people think of me and—”
“That’s not exactly what that meant. You are the one who’s all fretting about how you walk. You are the one who’s judging yourself to be broken and unworthy. You need to stop looking on your outward appearance.”
Eliza nearly stopped breathing. She had never considered that she was her own judge, and she’d been harsh and without mercy. Her body was no longer perfect—
“Hold it right there, too.”
Could he know her thoughts?
“Yeah, that’s how this works.” The old prospector stepped closer. “Is the Lord perfect?”
Eliza couldn’t deny that He was and nodded.
“Yet, you would call Him broken.”
Immediately, she shook her head. She never would, but before she could say so, the angel continued. “He had scars in the palms of His hands and on His feet and a large one in His side. Some might think that isn’t perfect, but He is. Your scars are perfect for you too. Rejoice in your infirmities. Rejoice in the Lord always. Hardships are the Lord’s way of revealing things to us about ourselves.”
The brightness began to fade, and with it, the man. In the lingering darkness as her eyes adjusted, she felt words within her heart. Christ kept the tokens in His hands—scars—and He’s perfect. You are His, and you’re perfect, too.
Stunned at her own realization, she sat for some time on that bale of straw. She had blamed everyone else for judging her unworthy when she had been the author of that.
Eliza couldn’t despise her broken leg or the limp that resulted. Many wonderful things had come out of it, and she knew that if she had to make the choice to go through all of that again, knowing the consequences, she definitely would. For one, the other women were freed because of her breaks. She had landed in a way that held the door open for them to escape. For another, she had avoided a disastrous marriage by revealing a man’s true nature. And now her limp would forever remind her that the Lord’s ways were not her ways, and all of her experiences had truly been a gift of grace.
7
KC Murray
MayBelle appeared in front of KC. He could see every one of her square white teeth shining in the dark as she brayed, her mouth opened wide in front of him. He had followed Eliza out the barn door when she’d run to the ice house. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but she was upset—at him. He had to try to make it right with her. Her happiness had become the most important thing of his life.
He knew it now—he wasn’t going back to the Pinkertons. He wasn’t even leaving Creede. If she was here, he would be too—if she’d have him.
Every which way he turned to move around the donkey, she popped up right in front of him. Her whole body wiggled like an excited pup.
“You’re enjoying yourself,” he accused her.
She swished her tail and pranced in place.
He faked left and ran right, fooling her for a second. MayBelle was right behind him. He only made it three steps before he felt her teeth chomp onto his britches, then haul him back to the barn before letting go. “I’m not getting past you, am I?”
She shook her head, her ears flopping up and down while she gave him another toothy grin.
In the distance, a lightning-white glow shone around the door to the ice house. The miner was in there with Eliza. What was that about? The minutes ticked like hours. What could the angel say? Could she even see him, or was it only KC who saw that light?
Why had she run? KC couldn’t answer that question. They’d talked about a few things before she left. None of them seemed to be a problem—kisses, homesteading, milking, Pinkertons, Baldwin, Holmans, and the land office. He didn’t have a clue what had gone wrong.
Finally, the old prospector came walking toward them. He stopped in front of MayBelle. “Have I ever told you that you’re a great partner? That was some good work you did on him.”
MayBelle made a happy snort that vibrated through her snout.
“What do you mean, I’m your partner?” the miner asked her.
MayBelle snorted again.
“I am not the sidekick. You are.” Then he pointed to the center of his chest with each word as he said, “I’m the angel.”
MayBelle whinnied. As soon as the miner opened his mouth, she whinnied again and continued every time he tried to speak.
“Fine. You’re an angel too.”
MayBelle stamped her hooves and clomped into the barn before the old prospector said, “Don’t listen to her. I’m the angel. Sometimes it’s best to let her think she’s won an argument.”
“What were you doing in the ice house?” KC asked.
“Just chatting it up with Eliza.”
“Could she see you? I mean, you’re my guardian angel.”
“Don’t get your chaps in a wad. I’ll be there for you when I’m needed, which ain’t right now.” The man disappeared.
Inside the barn, MayBelle whinnied again, and it sounded strangely like “I’m the real angel” to KC. He shook his head. Now he was starting to hear things from the donkey.
The next morning at breakfast, KC had little to say, and Eliza had less. Ellis and Kailin looked between them frequently, and both ate fast and left the room. KC hadn’t eaten much. The flapjacks stood in the middle of his plate, and Eliza’s egg yolk was still unbroken.
He sat silently, not knowing what to ask. If he asked her if she was mad at him, and she was, she might get madder because he had to ask. KC thought that was a bad idea. If he simply asked her what was wrong, she might get madder because he should probably already know what was wrong. He dismissed that strategy. Tension was building between his shoulders. Maybe if he sat there long enough, she might offer up some hint that would help him figure it out. That might upset her, too, because he should be the one to bring it up. The uncertainty was squeezing his chest. He’d faced outlaws and robbers feeling less tension than he felt now.
Apologize. That was always good, wasn’t it? He thought it over. I’m sorry, Eliza. What can I do? It was vague—good. It was sincere—also good. It would get something started—extremely good. Stop thinking about it and just do it. He opened his mouth—
“I’m sorry, KC.” Eliza looked down and folded her arms over her stomach.
His mouth hung open, and his brain stalled. He was c
ompletely lost like in a January blizzard. He had no idea where he should go. He wasn’t about to accept that apology—she’d done nothing wrong. He finally had enough presence of mind to snap his mouth shut.
She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. Uh-oh. He’d been quiet too long. He said the first thing that came to his mind. “Eliza, I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.” Anything! It was completely honest but possibly stupid. He waited for her reaction.
She gave him a sad smile. “I mistook your protection as . . . as something more. I probably made you feel uncomfortable.”
“I don’t think you misunderstood my actions at all. I spend time with you because it’s what I like to do. I find you interesting and attractive.” There he’d said it—well, some of it.
She cringed a little. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded flat. She took a deep breath and continued. “I’m glad you’re here. We really do need your help.”
Did she think him insincere? It had possibly been the truest thing he’d said in his life, and she didn’t believe him. He felt much more than the few words he had given her. He ached to tell her, but he knew he had to win her heart before she would hear them.
Eliza pushed her chair away and began to gather the dishes. “I guess I’d better get to work. Have a good day, KC.”
KC ate a couple of bites, then left. They both had plenty to get done. He worked hard, using aching muscles to ease his tension as he figured out what to do next. He admitted that he liked seeing Eliza’s smile every morning across the breakfast table. Walking around the farm between his chores and talking with her—even just a word or two—brightened his day. Spending the celebration with her was a rare treat. How could he help her see his true feelings for her?
That night after supper, KC went to the barn while the family gathered in the front room. He’d forgotten to make a few notes about the missing homesteaders in his book and quickly jotted them down. Ellis had left the house right after eating as he’d done most nights since the parents had left. When KC returned, Rayna was lying across Kailin’s lap while they drew on a slate. KC had been welcome to sit here in the evening instead of staying in the barn. He liked the feeling of being part of a family, of sitting together and doing nothing of consequence more than being together.
Eliza was knitting scarves for next winter, though her hands were slow and at times stopped moving as she stared past the yarn. Then she would start again. KC wondered what was worrying her.
Eliza set her needles and yarn aside and stood. “I made a pie today. Would anyone like a piece?”
KC looked into Eliza’s face, which she quickly turned away from him. He thought he saw sadness.
Kailin and Rayna both answered, “Yes.”
Since KC hadn’t answered yet, Eliza looked at him, and he could see pink rimming her eyes. “I’ll help you get that.” He jumped up and followed her into the kitchen. She walked to the cupboard and leaned her hands against the counter below it. He thought her shoulders shook. Without thinking what to do, his arms wrapped around her waist.
Eliza turned toward him and laid her head on his shoulder, sobbing softly.
He wanted to be her comfort, her confidant, her everything. “What’s the matter?” His lips touched her forehead. “Can I help?”
Her arms tightened around him. She didn’t answer, but she stayed.
Maybe this was all she needed. He could just be for her. He rested his cheek against her head. Only a couple of times, he forgot he was just holding her, and his hands moved across her back. His body responded to the feel of her against him. His heart claimed her with each beat—mine, mine. His lips wanted to taste hers, but he quickly shut it down and continued to hold her close.
Too soon, Eliza’s arms relaxed, and she leaned away from him. “I guess it just got to me tonight. It’s all been so hard. My parents haven’t sent word. I’m always tired. I never get to see my friends. So much has changed.”
KC wanted to pull her close again but didn’t. “I’ll go into Creede tomorrow and see if I can send word to your parents. Write a letter tonight, and I’ll put it the mail. That will be one less worry for you.”
Eliza hugged him again briefly. “Thank you.”
She turned back to the cupboard, and KC released her. She wiped her eyes on a dish towel, blew out a deep breath, and smiled. “I promised everyone pie.”
KC admired her more each day. She was shouldering a heavy load. It couldn’t be easy to run a farm this size and take care of her siblings and cousin. He wondered if tonight was the only time she had cried under the weight. Even when it got her down, she didn’t stay there, and she picked herself up and served pie.
The sky was dark—not even a moon shone through the clouds. KC was getting used to starting chores at three a.m., but some of the animals protested, especially MayBelle, who huffed and snorted like her beauty sleep was being interrupted. The donkey was in the wrong stall again. Each night, he stabled her in the stall at the end, and each morning, he found her next to Merlin. Merlin seemed to enjoy the company and hung his head over to her side.
KC went through the motions of each task as quickly as he could. He barely had to think about them now. Instead, he wondered if Eliza had been able to put her worries aside and sleep. Mostly he thought about her standing in his arms, his head resting on hers. She had turned to him for comfort. Even though she had claimed to think he didn’t care, something inside her had allowed him in. He would make sure it wasn’t the only time.
At midday, he walked into the telegraph office to see Arthur Jameson and waited for him to finish up with Mr. Anders and the weaselly man beside him. When Anders walked away from the counter, instead of going out the door, he approached KC.
“You’re the man who won the shooting contest,” he said. He pushed his coat open and tucked his thumbs into little pockets in his vest.
KC nodded once. Suspicion wiggled around in his stomach.
“There’s always a place for a man like you in my organization. You need a job?”
“No, sir,” KC answered. He noted that the man was being vague about exactly what he would be hiring KC to do. Since he’d only seen him draw a gun, he figured that was the expertise the man wanted to buy. “Thank you, but I already have a good job as a hired hand.”
“With skills like yours, you could name your price.” Mr. Anders turned away and then back. “Come on over to the Bonanza Mining office after you think about this. The offer stands.”
The two men left, and KC stepped to the counter. “I need this letter posted.” KC handed it to Arthur with the coins.
“The letter will go out in an hour on the train.” Mr. Jameson walked to the U.S. Post Office part of the building and secured the letter into the mailbag.
While KC waited, he noticed that Arthur had thrown away a paper from the last message he sent. It said, “Bought two. Four to go. Month at most.” The top of the paper was hidden, so he couldn’t see who the note was sent to. Mr. Anders was a wealthy man. He probably bought and sold many things, but why did he need to update someone about it? KC wondered if he was being suspicious because the man rubbed him wrong. Eliza hadn’t liked him much, either—probably because she’d recognized him at old Baldwin’s place.
When Mr. Jameson came back, KC said, “I’d like to send a telegram to the same address.”
Arthur turned to a large map on the back wall of the office and ran his finger over Texas until he stopped. “I can’t send one. Found out yesterday that some telegraph lines have been down in northern Texas from a tornado that passed through a couple of weeks ago. They won’t be up for a while. Nothing is going into or out of the towns between Fort Worth and Gainsville. Sunrise is smack between the two.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” KC left, wondering if that would ease Eliza’s mind or set it to new worries. There was a good reason why her parents hadn’t sent a telegram. There was also some danger to being in the area where a tornado had set down.
8
Eliza Turl
ey
Being twenty-one felt no different than being twenty. She had looked forward to this day for five years, and she expected it to be grand. Instead, she still had beans to wash and set over the fire for supper tonight, butter to churn, and laundry to wash and hang. The train would leave Creede at seven o’clock that morning to go to Salida and would return at three. For the first part of that trip, she’d be Eliza Turley, daughter of Abe and Wanda Turley and return as “Eliza Turley, Head of Household” on the land records.
After breakfast, KC asked Ellis, “I have some business in Salida. Is it still all right if I tag along?”
“Suit yourself. Kailin and Rayna are going over to Louise and Grant’s place for the day.”
It was all settled, and the three saddled up for the trip to the train station. They all rode horses and boarded them for the day with Otto down at the livery. Salida was about the same size as Creede, but there wasn’t a tent city surrounding it. The businesses were more varied than the numerous saloons their town boasted.
Eliza had watched and helped her parents homestead, but the prospect of it being her homestead made the task she was applying for monumental. How would she get it all done? She’d have to build a house. She was sure her family would be part of that. Then she’d have to make the land profitable. She planned to do things she already enjoyed. She was going to plant berry bushes and an apple orchard and raise bees. The train ride passed quickly as she thought about her homestead, laid out her garden, and built a hen house all in her mind.
When they entered the Land Office, Eliza and Ellis approached the desk to file their claims while KC went to the counter to look up a title.
Ellis began to step forward, but Eliza took him by the arm. “I’m the oldest. I’ll go first,” she said.