Land of My Heart

by Tracie Peterson

  But then, neither did staying in Omaha.

  Then there was the money factor. He didn’t have that much on him. As he’d told Geoff, he never traveled with much. It just wasn’t prudent.

  There were too many occasions for contact with thugs and pickpockets in Trenton’s line of work. I just need to get out of Omaha and then get a game, he told himself as he exited the hotel by way of a back door he’d discovered only the day before. Cautiously, he peered down the alley and drew a deep breath. This would work—it had to work.

  Trenton went to the river and finally found help in the form of a freight boat bound for Kansas City. It didn’t matter which direction he headed as long as it was away from Omaha. He paid the captain an outrageous sum and slipped aboard. Hiding amongst the tarp-covered load, Trenton could only hope Geoff Tevis had caught no sight of his getaway.

  The miles drifted by and Trenton began to breath easier. By the time they reached St. Joseph nearly three days later, Trenton felt his confidence and strength return. When they docked in Kansas City two days after that, Trenton felt as if he could conquer the world. The first thing he needed to conquer, however, was finding a room and a decent poker game. After that, he’d keep moving. He’d have to avoid ever returning to Omaha if he wanted to stay alive.

  Securing a room at a hotel he’d never used, Trenton counted his remaining cash and smiled. It was enough to get him into a game. He tossed his jacket over the end of the bed and stretched out for some much-needed sleep. It would be hours before he could square away a game, and he figured this would be the most beneficial way to pass his time. Exhausted, Trenton dozed off with memories of the terror that had sent him on the run.

  It was nearly nine-thirty that evening before Trenton awoke with a start. He lay awake in the dark, listening and hoping that there’d be no sound to betray an intruder. All seemed quiet. Sitting up, he steadied his nerves and yawned. Under his door came the tiniest shaft of light. Apparently the hall lamps had been lit.

  Trenton dusted off his clothes as best he could, then opened his hotel door. The light allowed him to find his coat and hat before heading downstairs to search out a game. Several other people moved about in the hallway, but Trenton didn’t recognize any of them. With a sigh of relief, he closed the door behind him.

  It’s going to be a good night, he told himself. He always started his gaming nights this way. Henry had told him more than once that a man who exuded a positive attitude could work his way into just about any circle of gentlemen. It was as much a part of the game as the actual card playing. Confidence was everything.

  After making some discreet inquiries, Trenton made his way to a suggested gambling house. It wouldn’t be as lucrative as a game with refined businessmen, but it would still provide him diversion and money. A light rain began to fall, but Trenton refused to let it dampen his spirit. Things are going to be better, he promised himself. I’ll get enough money together and then I’ll go to Montana.

  Trenton quickly found his way into a game and before long began winning just enough hands to give him a good pot without attracting too much attention about his luck. It was his turn to deal when someone called him by name.

  “Well, well. If it ain’t Trenton Chadwick. Just look at you all growed up and fancy like.”

  Trenton would have known the voice of Jerry Wilson anywhere. He looked up and met Jerry’s menacing stare. Sam stood to his left and Mark was on his right. The Swede was the only one who seemed to be absent.

  Trying to appear unmoved, Trenton nodded. “Good evening, boys.”

  Jerry laughed. “It’s a good evening now. That’s fer sure.”

  Trenton dealt the cards, trying hard not to even glance up. He wanted to show Jerry that his presence meant nothing, but it was hard. Trenton’s insides felt like they were churning. He was afraid it wouldn’t take much effort to be sick.

  The round went to the man on Trenton’s left. With this win, the man decided he’d had enough of poker and gathered his winnings to leave. Jerry quickly took the man’s chair.

  “Deal me in,” he said, tossing a coin into the center of the table.

  “Me too,” Sam declared, motioning for an old man to vacate the table. He sat down before the man could even reach to finish his drink. Sam tossed back the whiskey and smiled. “I always like a drink with my game.”

  Mark pulled up a chair and nodded. “I do too. Why don’t you order us a round for old time’s sake, Trent.”

  Trent nodded and ordered the trio whiskey. Thoughts flooded Trenton’s mind as he dealt another hand. How in the world had this happened and what was he to do about it now? Getting away from Jerry and the others would be no simple feat.

  They played cards for two hours, all the while Trenton continuing to wonder how he would manage to separate himself from Jerry. Jerry insisted on telling anyone who joined the game that they were the best of friends from southern Missouri. Trenton hated the association, but to keep Jerry from being too suspicious he went along with it. It was close to midnight when Jerry finally stood and announced he’d had enough.

  “Well, it was mighty good playin’ with you again, Trent, but you know, we’ve got business first thing in the morning and will be headin’ out. It wouldn’t do for us to be stayin’ up all night.”

  Trenton felt a sense of relief. Maybe Jerry honestly didn’t care about him anymore. Maybe he’d just go away and leave Trent to his own business. “Good night,” Trenton offered, dealing cards to those who were remaining.

  Sam and Mark got up and followed Jerry from the room, leaving Trenton to exhale in an audible sigh. The remaining men at the table gave him an odd look but said nothing. After all, the cards were dealt and it was time to play.

  Trenton won enough money that night to pay for an extra day at the hotel and then some. He settled with the clerk and went back to his room, feeling like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. That night he slept better than he had in years. With any luck, Geoff still believed him to be in Omaha and now Jerry no longer held any interest in his whereabouts. If all went well, Trenton would be in Montana by fall. The thought filled him with genuine peace. It seemed the right thing to do.

  Trenton rose late the next day. He had a leisurely lunch at a caf down the street, then took a long walk around the town to enjoy the day. By the time evening came around, he made his way back to the same gambling house. A surge of excitement filled him as he came into the room. Many of the tables were empty, as the night was still young. He made his way to the bar, hoping to order himself a strong cup of coffee, but before he got that far, a plump man stepped into his path.

  “Say, I saw you here last night.”

  “That’s right,” Trenton admitted. “You did. What of it?”

  “Hey, Bruce, this is one of ’em,” the man declared, taking hold of Trenton’s arm. His steel-like grip took Trenton by surprise.

  “What’s this all about?” Trenton questioned, trying his best to pull away from the man.

  “Send for the police. This is one of the fellas who robbed the First National this morning.”

  Trenton shook his head. “I did no such thing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about three dead men and a bank that’s short of about five thousand dollars,” the man said, giving Trenton a sharp jab with his elbow. “Now settle down or I won’t even save you for the hangman’s noose.”

  Trenton’s head began to spin. Hangman’s noose? He wants to hang me? But why? I haven’t done anything wrong. A sickening thought came to mind. He recalled the man’s words. “This is one of the fellas …”

  Dread washed over him as they waited for the officer to arrive. Jerry and his boys had no doubt pulled a bank job, and Trenton, like the fool he was, had allowed himself to be associated with them just in time to take the blame.

  CHAPTER 37

  THREE WEEKS LATER, TRENTON FOUND HIMSELF BEING DECLARED guilty and sentenced to hang for the death of three men. Despite his declara
tion of innocence, the judge and jury quickly assigned his guilt by association.

  The hanging was set for the following Friday, May 8. Trenton was taken back to his cell at the jail, completely baffled as to how all of this could have happened. The first week his emotions had been raw. He’d screamed himself hoarse, declaring his innocence. The second week he’d grown sullen and silent, despair overwhelming him. After that had come the numbness. What good were feelings, after all?

  Sitting in his cell, Trenton tried to write a letter to Dianne and explain how wrong things had gone. He debated on whether or not to tell her that they planned to hang him, then thought it only fair that she know the truth. He’d hold the letter until they walked him up the gallows, then ask the guard to post it for him.

  I don’t know why this has happened. I’ve always tried to stay on the right side of the law—to do the right thing. I was accused of robbing a bank and killing three people. I didn’t do it. I swear to you. Still, I find myself facing an end to my life. They plan to hang me on Friday.

  Dianne, I wish things were different. I wish I’d come to Montana with you and never fought against it. I never did feel like I really avenged Pa. Never saw a way that made any sense. Even when I tried to do things, there was no satisfaction.

  I’m so sorry for all of this. Sorry to be such a disappointment to you. Please forgive me. I want to make my peace with you and Morgan and Zane. I need to make my peace with God, as well—but I don’t know how.

  Trenton reread the words he’d written and felt a deep, debilitating sorrow. Folding the unfinished letter, he stuffed it into his pocket and stretched out on the cot. Staring at the ceiling, Trenton couldn’t help but think of what he’d said to Dianne about making his peace with God. How did a person go about making peace with someone he’d completely ignored for so many years?

  He slept restlessly that night, thinking about the hanging and what it would feel like to die. Just as Trenton would manage to doze off, he’d feel the noose around his neck. His breathing would become strained and he’d wake up gasping. Each night it was the same and by Thursday evening, he was half mad with exhaustion and his own wild imagination.

  Taking out the crumpled letter to Dianne, Trenton decided to finish it.

  I’ll go to my death as sorry as a man can be. I don’t mind that I’ve suffered in life for the wrong I’ve done, but feel it’s terribly wrong to pay a price for something I had nothing to do with. I love you, little sister. My last thoughts will be of you and better days.

  Trenton

  He read over the letter and decided it was the best he could do. There were no words to explain his sadness or regret. There was no possible means to tell Dianne how much she meant to him. How he longed to see her and the twins again.

  Lying down, Trenton tried to keep the tears from his eyes. Fear ate at him. He wanted to scream at the guard to just get it over with—to just shoot him and put him out of his misery.

  As if thinking of the man had conjured him, the guard approached the cell door and inserted the key. He had a strange look on his face— an uncomfortable, questionable look.

  “Come with me, Chadwick,” the man said.

  “Why? What’s going on?” Trenton asked. He came to the door nevertheless.

  “We’re breakin’ you out of here, that’s what,” Jerry Wilson said as he popped around the corner. “Now you get in there,” he said, pushing the guard inside the cell.

  Trenton stood in dazed surprise. “What?”

  “I said, get out here.” Jerry reached in and grabbed Trenton and pulled him out the door. Slamming the cell door back in place, Jerry turned the key.

  “I can’t leave,” Trenton said, backing away from Jerry. “I can’t break out of jail.”

  “Sure you can. You just did. Now come on.”

  Trenton shook his head. “No. I can’t do that.” He looked to the guard and then back to Jerry. “Look, I had no great desire to die for something I didn’t do, but this is wrong.”

  “Hanging you would be wrong too. Do you want to die?”

  Jerry’s words hit him like a sledgehammer. Trenton looked again to the frightened guard. “I didn’t rob the bank. I don’t want to die for something I didn’t do.”

  “You don’t get much of a choice,” Jerry declared. “Besides, I’ve already gone to all this trouble. Now come on. You owe me, and I intend to collect.”

  Trenton kept his gaze fixed on the guard. The turmoil was acute. “I don’t want to die,” he told the man again. He could see in the guard’s eyes he felt the same way. Perhaps the best thing would be to get Jerry out of the jail where he couldn’t hurt anyone.

  “All right, Jerry. I’ll go with you—for now. But I intend to clear my name.”

  Jerry laughed all the way down the hall. “There’s no chance of that. You’re one of us now.”

  Late August

  Dianne watched as Cole expertly cleaned the hooves of his horse. Buddy had been his horse since their days on the wagon train, and the two had become quite accustomed to each other. She liked the way he meticulously cleaned and clipped then filed the hoof smooth.

  Watching him, Dianne imagined this was how they would spend the rest of their lives. They would share the work and the love, each one finding strength and hope from God, each other, and even the land. There was something so powerful about this vast land. This was God’s country, Uncle Bram had declared more than once, and Dianne had come to understand why he felt that way.

  Still, there were troubling thoughts in Dianne’s heart. Since Cole’s declaration of love and Bram’s blessing on their courting, there were times when Dianne felt as if something were wrong. Cole seemed to be keeping something from her, and no matter how Dianne tried to encourage discussion on the matter, Cole would have no part of it. Dianne wondered if it had to do with Carrie and the past. That idea frightened her and kept Dianne from being able to completely abandon herself to the idea of becoming Cole’s wife. If Cole didn’t feel comfortable sharing his heart with her, Dianne couldn’t marry him. And if he hadn’t really purged his heart of his love for this other woman, Dianne wouldn’t live with a ghost between them.

  Bram had suggested they spend at least a year courting, reminding each of them that they’d never really had a chance to get to know each other outside of the ranch work they’d shared. But, as the summer passed, it was generally the ranch they discussed and shared ideas about, even when they were walking together or taking an evening ride. Perhaps that’s what bothered Dianne the most. Cole seemed less than eager to talk about himself or his family.

  Dianne had taken Koko’s advice and had begun to pray in earnest about her relationship with Cole. She longed for marriage and his love, but every time she opened her mouth to speak about it to Cole, something held her back. It was almost as if the Lord were putting a guard over her lips.

  She’d sought the Bible for answers and when her eyes had come upon Psalm 141, she felt as if God were speaking directly to her. David had prayed in that psalm, baring his soul and his heart before the Lord.

  Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips. Incline not my heart to any evil thing… .

  The words were stirring in her heart even now. How could she explain them to Cole? She loved this man. She was convinced of that. But there was a wall between them that Dianne couldn’t quite grasp, and she didn’t want to incline her heart toward evil even for the sake of better understanding.

  What’s wrong with us, Father? she prayed in silence. I’ve wanted his love and attention for so long, but things aren’t right.

  She considered all of the problems they’d overcome already. Arrogance and pride on both sides had blinded them to the need for selfsatisfaction. Dianne had detested Cole upon their first meeting because of his smug attitude and condescending ways.

  They’d overcome that as Dianne had matured and had begun to see her own flaws as well. Pride had been a miserable companion to her, and working to put it aside had greatly im
proved her personality. Maturity had also changed Cole.

  Together they had endured painful loss and conflict. Cole had been there through the deaths of her sisters and mother. They’d even shared their dreams of working the land, of building a fine herd and owning magnificent horses.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Cole said. He finished nailing the preformed shoe. After inspecting it, he dropped his hold on the horse. “Something wrong?”

  Dianne shook her head, then thought better of it. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Cole grinned and walked to where she stood. Without warning he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Does that make it better?”

  Dianne thrilled to his touch and returned the smile. “It certainly didn’t hurt.”

  “Let me gather my tools and we’ll go for a walk,” Cole said. He picked up his hammer, rasp, and hoof cutters and secured them.

  Dianne waited in silence, wondering if this would turn out to be a good idea or a bad one. She really did love this man, but she felt she didn’t know him at all.

  They walked toward a stand of pine, Cole gently holding her hand, his thumb stroking the edge of her hand. Dianne couldn’t imagine loving him more or having any deeper desire to be with him.

  Please, God, please show me what’s wrong.

  Cole stopped and pulled her into his arms. “So what’s got you so preoccupied?”

  Dianne shrugged. “I’m not really sure. There’s just something … well … I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s already September and soon winter will be here and there’s so much to do.”