“Like what?” Curtis asked, sounding quite without hope.
Paul smiled again. “You don’t need me to help you figure that out. That’s what the Almighty is for.”
11
Clara rose the next morning, her eyes swollen from weeping late into the night. She hadn’t cried this much since she’d had to leave Curtis fourteen years ago. But then, her heart had never been this broken. Not even when she’d waved goodbye to him as her mother’s hired carriage took her from the ranch, because she still held hope. Hope that she could change her mother’s mind. Hope that she might return to Curtis and his love.
Now that hope was dead, and Clara mourned the loss more than she had her husband’s demise. Perhaps this was her punishment for having married one man while always loving another. Perhaps God had been angry at her, even though she had pushed thoughts of Curtis aside to honor her husband. Even though she had resigned herself to never know love again.
She looked at her two precious children as they climbed from their beds. She had always felt they were gifts from God—His consolation.
Without much conversation she dressed Hunter and Maddy. They watched her with odd expressions, knowing that something was wrong but not understanding. She felt horrible and tried to smile.
“We must hurry. Uncle Paul reads from the Bible each morning and then talks about what we’ve read.” She helped Maddy with her shoes. “It’s always very interesting.”
They were still awkwardly silent, so Clara continued to try to make small talk. “Aunt Madeline always makes a wonderful breakfast. I think you’ll really enjoy her cooking.”
“Doesn’t she have a cook?” Hunter finally asked.
“Or servants?” Maddy added.
“No. There aren’t any servants here. On the ranch everybody has to work.” She finished with Maddy’s shoes and rose. “As you can see, I’ve dressed quite simply, and that’s why I chose these plain clothes for you two. Life on the ranch is hard and dirty. You can’t be wearing your good clothes for work.” She frowned. The clothes they wore were still fancier than most children would wear for life on the ranch.
“We’ll probably get you some others, but these will have to do.” She considered the short pants, shirt, and jacket that Hunter wore. “Why don’t you just leave the coat here?” Hunter happily complied. He’d never cared for jackets of any kind.
She looked at Maddy with her honey-blond hair flying in all directions. Clara had never been allowed to brush and style it. She picked up the hairbrush and motioned Maddy to turn around. Clara had braided her own hair often enough when she’d stayed on the ranch. There was no reason she couldn’t do the same for her daughter. She brushed the tangled hair until it was free of knots, then looked for where she had put Maddy’s hair ribbons. Once she located them, she quickly plaited Maddy’s hair down the back and secured it with a blue ribbon. Standing back, Clara admired her handiwork with a smile. “There. We’re ready.”
“I didn’t know you could do that, Mama,” Hunter said, quite impressed.
Clara squared her shoulders. “I can do a great many things, Hunter. I just wasn’t given the chance.”
She led the children to the breakfast table and found her aunt and uncle already seated. “I’m sorry we’re late. I’ll be sure to rise earlier tomorrow.” She helped the children into chairs, noting that someone had placed a thick catalogue on each seat to give them a little height.
She took her seat and looked to her uncle. Paul gave a nod and began to read from the Bible about the prodigal son. He only went so far as the point where the prodigal returned before closing the book.
He looked quite thoughtful as he continued. “Sometimes people do things they’re ashamed of, but when they come to their heavenly Father and ask forgiveness, they can rest assured that He will forgive and forget. It’s hard for us to believe that sometimes, because as human beings we have a hard time forgiving, and forgetting is nigh on to impossible.”
“I sometimes forget to wipe my shoes off when they’re muddy,” Hunter volunteered. “The housekeeper would always get mad.”
Paul smiled. “You forgot about it because it wasn’t important to you. When God forgives our sins, they aren’t important to Him anymore—because they don’t exist. He’s cast them as far as the east is from the west.”
“How far is that?” Maddy asked matter-of-factly.
Chuckling, Paul put the Bible aside. “Well, you remember how far it was from your home in New York to this place?”
“It’s real far away,” Hunter replied.
“Exactly. God casts your sins even farther away than your train ride here. Now, I think Aunt Madeline is getting hungry, so why don’t we pray?”
The children watched as the adults joined hands, and without any instruction they did likewise. Clara was glad they were so willing to fall into the routine. She had worried throughout the trip west that they might have a hard time adjusting, but Mim had assured her that children find it far easier to adapt to change than adults.
Breakfast passed quickly with Hunter and Maddy heartily approving of Aunt Madeline’s flapjacks and huckleberry syrup. Clara marveled at how much her children were able to eat before finally telling her they were full. Aunt Madeline instructed Maddy how to help her clear the table, and Paul suggested Hunter come with him to help bring in wood for Aunt Madeline.
Clara gathered up several of the empty plates and brought them to the counter. “Why don’t you let me clean up? I know you have a lot of work going on with the lambs.”
Madeline smiled. “That would be lovely, Clara. If you don’t mind, I’ll take Maddy with me. There’s a lot to show her. Paul will keep Hunter busy too. We’ve already discussed it. If it’s all right with you.”
Nodding, Clara couldn’t help wondering if they were doing this because of the terrible time she’d had the evening before. No matter, she was grateful. She wanted nothing more than to have a nice long walk to think things out. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. What she really wanted more than anything was to go see Curtis and hear him proclaim that he still loved her.
While she finished gathering dishes, Clara battled with herself about throwing caution to the wind. She should just march down the hallway, open the door to Curtis’s room, and demand he stop acting the fool.
“But maybe I’m the fool.” She bit her lower lip and fought back tears.
Clara forced Curtis from her mind. She needed to get the kitchen cleaned up first, and that would be hard to do while having a good cry. She washed up the dishes, wiped down the counter and table, then made her way out the back door. The day was bright and the air crisp. The intense smell of the sheep made her smile. It was funny how country smells had never bothered her as they did her mother.
Clara made her way around the house, passing by the huge garden plot. Aunt Madeline had told her on their trip home from town that she’d only recently planted a few things. She hoped to get even more put in before the shearing commenced. Clara would have to volunteer to help with that. It would be wonderful to teach the children about growing food.
At the far end of the barnyard near the lambing pens, Clara spied five sheepherder wagons. These were houses on wheels in which the shepherd would live while off in summer pastures. Clara had once gone with her aunt during shearing time and had slept in one of the tiny houses. They were small but well organized, with everything a person might need to live alone in the wilds. She knew it wouldn’t be too much time after the lambing that the shearing would commence, and then these efficient little homes would be hitched to horses and moved along with the sheep to summer fields.
A little farther away from the house, Clara noted clumps of trees—mostly evergreens and aspen with a few cottonwood thrown in for good measure. She and Curtis had often come here to steal a few private moments to discuss their future. Everything was comfortingly familiar, and yet she knew that fourteen years had changed everything. Especially where she and Curtis were concerned.
Beyond
the trees the open fields stretched out to rolling hills covered in new spring grass and sheep. It reminded Clara of the Twenty-third Psalm.
“‘The Lord is my shepherd.’” The words offered a small amount of comfort.
Eventually Clara came to a stream where she and Curtis had often walked. She sat down and watched the crystal-clear water as it ran wild over the rocks. Spring thaw had caused the water to climb nearly to the top of the short banks.
Clara sighed and glanced heavenward. She never felt so close to God as she did here in the wide open country. Maybe it was because the city was so noisy or there were too many people. Even in the great churches she’d attended, she hadn’t known His presence as she did here.
She remembered how she and Curtis used to pray together. Those times were so special, so intimate. Tears came unbidden as she felt the hopelessness return.
“What am I supposed to do, Lord? I love him so dearly, but he doesn’t love me.”
For all her years away, Clara had always imagined Curtis pining away for her—feeling as bad and as lonely as she felt. Instead, he had moved on. His heart was no longer hers.
“I can’t stay here. Not if he’s going to be here. It would hurt far too much to have to face him day in and day out. But where do I go? Even if I took my money and bought a little place nearby, I’d still have to deal with seeing him at church and when visiting Madeline and Paul.”
She picked up a smooth stone and turned it over and over in her hand as she contemplated her plight.
“I could go back to Bismarck.” The thought intrigued her. She knew Mim and felt confident she would help Clara and the children settle in. Perhaps her parents would even know of a place Clara could purchase.
She wondered if she should write Mim a letter or just show up. It had been terribly hard to get a telegram sent, since the war department had declared that the service would be used primarily for the military. Even so, she might be able to get a telegram through to Mim. Of course, it would require going into town.
Then Clara remembered how happy her aunt and uncle had been at her arrival. They would be heartbroken if she chose to leave.
“But I can’t bear the pain of staying.” Anger rose up so unexpectedly that Clara jumped to her feet as if to ward it off. But it did no good. She threw the rock into the water, then reached down and picked up a stick and threw it as well. Looking around she picked up several other rocks and threw them one after the other.
“How could you just up and die and leave me to face all this indecision, Adolph?” She shook her head. “Mother forced us to marry and you promised me a life of security, and yet you gambled away your children’s inheritance and my home. And then your brother stands ready to make me his wife and continue making my jewelry designs as if nothing ever happened.” She spoke on as if Adolph and Otto were her audience.
She began to stomp up and down the bank, shaking her finger in a scolding manner. “You no doubt had your motives, Otto. I’ve never known you or Adolph to do anything without a reason. It always had to benefit the business, didn’t it?
“But what about your children, Adolph? What will their future be? Even if you didn’t care about me, you should have cared about them. Mother was certain you were going to provide a life of wealth and ease for all of us.”
She shook her fist, imagining her mother had come to join the party. “Mother, you are worse than Adolph or Otto. You didn’t care that I had fallen in love with Curtis. You told me it was a foolish, childish infatuation that would pass. You told me I couldn’t possibly know my own heart. Well, I did. I still do.”
Then why not fight for him?
The thought came from out of nowhere and stopped Clara in her tracks. Tears spilled onto her cheeks. The answer to that was painfully simple.
“Because he doesn’t want me anymore.”
“I’ve brought your lunch,” Madeline told Curtis. “Although I’m not completely convinced you deserve it.”
He looked at her with a raised brow. “If this is about Clara, you can just forget it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Madeline put down the tray and then put her hands on her hips. “And if I continue to talk about her, what will you do about it? Get up and leave?” She smiled. “No, you’re going to hear me out whether you like it or not. You’ve hurt our Clara terribly.”
“I’m trying to save her from even greater pain,” Curtis countered. “I’m sure Paul told you everything. I know the two of you keep no secrets.”
“He told me, but it didn’t make any more sense to him than it does me. Yes, you have a past that is filled with things you’d rather forget. Yes, you’re injured and laid up for a time and you might always have problems with your leg. But that’s no reason to throw away true love with both hands.”
“It’s because I care about her that I don’t want her around. If need be, I’ll ask the doctor to move me to town. I’m sure Joe and Phil could load me in a wagon and drive me over.” He looked at her as if to dare her to say he couldn’t go.
Instead Madeline shook her head. She went to the corner of the room and picked up a wood contraption that Paul had made. Since Curtis’s arms were free, it seemed the perfect solution for meals. She positioned the platform over his casted body, the legs of the invention coming to rest on either side of Curtis. This would allow him to awkwardly feed himself.
Next she retrieved the tray and set it before him. Curtis reached out and took hold of her arm. “Please understand, Madeline. I want to save her from . . . me. I want to save her from my past and the questionable future I have. Sending her back is the answer.”
“And what exactly is it that you think you’d be sending her back to?” Madeline’s voice was barely a whisper. “Do you have any idea of what she would face in New York? You know the kind of woman her mother is. She will force Clara to do her will and never take into consideration what Clara needs or wants. Then there’s that brother-in-law of hers. Do you know she told me that he intends to marry her?”
Curtis frowned at this news but said nothing. Instead he looked down at the food. Madeline could see that her words had caused him to reconsider the situation, so she pressed on.
“At least here, with you, Clara would have love. She’d have us as well. She wouldn’t have to face a questionable future wondering if her mother would force her into another unpleasant arrangement. Curtis, you need to really think about this. I know you love her.”
“It’s because I love her . . . that I want . . . I want her to forget about me,” he murmured less convincingly than he had before.
“So you’ll just send her back to New York? Is that it?”
He met her gaze. “No. I don’t want her to go back there.”
“Then where? She has nobody but us.”
“Then I’ll go.” He sounded so sad and resigned that Madeline might have felt sorry for him if he just weren’t so pigheaded.
“And here I thought you were done making poor choices.” Madeline shook her head. “I’m going to leave you now and go pray. I’m going to ask the Lord to pound some sense into that thick head of yours.”
That night Clara put her children to bed and smiled as they prayed.
“God bless everybody on the ranch,” Hunter began. “Bless the sheep and the dogs too.”
“And the chickens and horses,” Maddy added.
Hunter nodded. “And help the lambs to get born. Amen.”
“Amen,” Maddy added.
Clara couldn’t help but be proud. She and Mim had long ago taught them to pray aloud before bed and at meals. She wondered if they knew they could talk to God anytime they liked.
She pulled up a chair and placed it between their beds as they climbed in and snuggled down under handmade quilts.
“You are both a treasure to me. You are beyond a doubt the very best God has given me, and I thank Him for you both—all of the time.” She sat down and smiled. “I hope you know that you can talk to God anytime you like. He will always listen to your
prayers.”
Hunter nodded. “Auntie Madeline said we can ask God for anything. I’m going to ask him for a horse of my own. Oh, and a puppy.”
Clara cleared her throat. “Well, you can pray to God for other reasons that don’t involve asking Him for possessions. You can praise Him too. You can thank Him for all the wonderful things He’s given you. You can thank Him for the beauty of the earth.”
Maddy yawned. “I thanked Him for letting us come here. It’s so much better than our old house.”
“How so, Maddy?”
She yawned again. “This is a happy house. Our house wasn’t happy at all. It was dark and cold and we had to be really quiet.”
“And nobody laughed,” Hunter added.
“Well, sometimes we did,” Maddy countered. “But we had to be very quiet. Here Unca Paul laughs all the time, and he laughs real loud. Auntie Madeline too. It’s a happy place, and I don’t want to leave.”
Clara felt the words pierce her heart. She had never known her children felt this way—that they had realized the misery that resided in their former home. How could she take them away when they’d just found what a home could truly be?
“I’m going to pray we stay here forever,” Maddy murmured and closed her eyes.
“I’m still going to ask for a horse and a puppy,” Hunter said, sounding as if he might nod off at any moment. “And for us to stay here.”
Curtis lay awake long into the night thinking on all that Madeline and Paul had said. Maybe he was being pigheaded. He tried to shift his weight, which only caused his skin to itch beneath the cast. The doctor said he’d be able to get the body cast off soon. In truth, the doctor wasn’t even sure that the back was broken, but because of the bruising around the spine and numbness in Curtis’s legs, he felt immobilization was critical.
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