A Dream Unfolding (43 page)

“Hannah, come on in,” Dr. Charles Murphy greeted.

Martha gave her a warm embrace, then motioned her to a seat.
 
“How have you been?”

“Tired,” Hannah said, smiling.

“Shall we get started,” Charles asked, opening his Bible.

Hannah inwardly cringed, as she had every week, not ready to let go of her anger.
 
Yet, each week she returned.
 
She did not understand her own reasoning for coming back.

Soon Charles’ deep bass voice filled the room as he read a passage of scripture.
 
Over and over it seemed the passages Charles picked talked of God’s enduring love and faithfulness.
 
The more she listened the more she let go of some of her distrust.

Following today’s reading Charles excused himself, giving Hannah and Martha some time alone.
 
Martha appeared a bit nervous, shifting in her chair.

“Hannah,” she said, “I just wanted to let you know that you are not alone in your loss.”

Hannah sharply sucked in air through her nose.

Before she could respond, Martha continued, “I, too, have lost not one, but three children.”
 
Martha broke eye contact and fiddled with the handkerchief clutched in her hand.
 
“My first child miscarried, much like what you experienced.”
 
Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, but held without spilling over.
 
“Then, my second child, a son…he died of whooping cough as an infant.
 
Sad, isn’t it, that a doctor can work to save the lives of so many, but loses his own son.”

Martha’s voice broke and the tears flowed.
 
“It was so hard when he died.
 
Charles blamed himself for the longest time.
 
And I became bitter.
 
I guess I blamed him, too.
 
I mean, he was a doctor and had cured hundreds of infants with whooping cough with success.
 
All except our son.”

Martha sniffled and dabbed at her eyes.
 
Hannah sat ramrod straight listening intently to the tale.
 
Who would have ever known, looking at Martha today, that she had faced such insurmountable loss?

“Then, when our third child was born, Lilly, both Charles and I were overjoyed.
 
She was such a precious little girl.
 
We loved her dearly.
 
When she was three years old…she got the measles.
 
Charles and I tended her day and night.
 
Then one day the fever broke…it appeared she was on the mend…”

A sob caught in Martha’s throat.
 
“The next morning, when I went to check on her, she was gone.”

Tears came to Hannah’s eyes.
 
Martha stood and wrapped her arms around Hannah.
 
They both cried, letting some of the sorrow flee from their broken motherly hearts.

After several minutes, Martha stepped back.
 
Grasping Hannah’s hands in hers, she said, “I tell you these things, Hannah, not for your pity, but to help you understand that you are not alone in your grief.
 
You have a sister here before you that has walked a most sorrowful journey and survived.”

Looking her straight in the eyes, Martha said again, “You are not alone.”

Hannah nodded numbly, not quite ready to let that truth fully sink in.

Martha released her hands.
 
Dabbing her eyes, she said, “If you ever want to talk to me about any of the heartache you are going through, please know that I am here for you.”

Hannah nodded, trying to remain detached.
 
“I better be getting back.
 
It’s past time to start supper preparations.”

Martha smiled.
 
“Go with God, Hannah.”

The words echoed in Hannah’s mind as she walked back to the mess tent.
 
By the time she arrived, the two Mexican women already had the meal well under way.
 
They assured Hannah that they could cover things for tonight, sending her back to her tent.

Laying down on her bed, she thought of all that Martha said.
 
Though Martha had not lost her husband, she had lost three children.
 
Surely her grief equaled that of Hannah’s.
 
Yet, here she was, however many years later, a sweet compassionate woman—not a hint of grief present.

Hannah wondered if she might heal so well from this burden of grief.
 
How long would it take?

The next evening, Hannah stayed at the mess tent after supper to help with dishes.
 
It was the first time since… She finally felt well enough to get through the entire day’s duties.

Nearly a month passed and Lieutenant Harrison never stopped by.
 
She did not know if he had returned from escorting the governor’s party or not.
 
Hannah hoped he was well.
 
She missed his friendship and hoped he would return soon.

As she finished washing the last dish, she heard a commotion outside.
 
A rider pulled up short, just missing Hannah as she stepped from the tent.

“Where’s the governor?” he asked.
 

Hannah shrugged.

The man dismounted and headed toward the major’s quarters.
 
After a few moments, several soldiers and the civilians working at the fort gathered around to see what news the distraught rider brought.
 
In minutes the major and rider stepped out of the major’s tent and addressed the crowd.

“A cowboy was killed in town last night by the Apaches,” Major Willis stated.

A murmur rose through the crowd.
 
Someone shouted, “Are you going to go after them?”

“I do not have enough men here at the fort right now to send any more out chasing savages.”

The rider crossed his arms, scowl firmly planted on his face.
 
“Someone has to do something.”

“We will have to wait for my men to return with the governor,” Major Willis stated.
 
He spun on his heel, reentering his tent, and closing the discussion.

After a few minutes, the agitated crowd dispersed and the rider took off back towards town.

Several days later, when Governor Goodwin returned, he appointed one of the local ranchers, King Woolsey, a Lieutenant Colonel and authorized him to gather volunteers from the area to go after the murderous Apaches.

Hannah watched from the back of the crowd as the announcement seemed to appease their anger for the time being.
 
She wondered just how many men would show up at the meeting in town next week to organize the retaliation.

Joshua was disappointed when he returned to Fort Whipple, only to be sent out again with fresh horses.
 
He and his men spent the better part of the month escorting the governor on his tour of the territory.
 
When they returned to the fort this morning, he thought Major Willis would give them several days off, but instead he immediately gave him a new assignment.

The gentle
lope
of his horse calmed Joshua’s earlier anger at Major Willis.
 
He hoped to check on Hannah before departing again, but the major only gave him enough time to change into a fresh uniform and gather a few supplies for the next week.
 
There was no time to find Hannah, much less have a meaningful conversation.

When he left over a month ago, she was still recovering from the loss of her baby.
 
It pained him to leave her in such a state, but his first duty was to the army and not to the wife of his lost friend.
 
However, Joshua found it impossible to think of her as Drew’s wife any longer.
 
Despite how ill conceived his proposal had been, in the weeks away from Hannah, he wished she had agreed to become his wife.
 
He missed her and thought of her often.
 
He so looked forward to seeing her again.

Nonetheless, there was little he could do about any of that now.
 
He and his men were out on patrol for the next several weeks, escorting the military mail between Fort Whipple and Fort Wingate in New Mexico.
 
Like always, Joshua would place his focus on his work, placing his life on hold for another time.

Will, Ben, and several other hands rode into town.
 
Lieutenant Colonel King Woolsey called a meeting of the area miners, ranchers, and other settlers following the recent Apache attacks.
 
Three Americans and five Mexicans had been killed a few days ago, this coming closely on the heels of a cowboy’s brutal murder in town.
 
All the deaths were being attributed to the savage Apaches.

Listening carefully, Will found Woolsey to be a charismatic fellow.
 
He rallied the men with his talk of revenge.
 
When he stated that the only good Indian was a dead one, the crowd cheered.
 
The Apaches had been terrorizing the citizens of central Arizona for months now and the latest attacks stirred their anger.
 
They wanted blood for blood.
 
Woolsey was there to meet that need.

Will was concerned both by the Indian raids and by the blood thirsty settlers.
 
While he longed for a more peaceful resolution, he knew it was unlikely to come without loss of life first.
 
Pushing aside his own opinion on the matter, Will knew he had a duty as a local rancher to assist in tracking down the offending savages.

By the end of the day, Woolsey amassed one hundred volunteers comprised of the ranchers, miners, friendly Maricopa Indians, Mexicans, and townsfolk.
 
Will, Ben Shepherd, Pedro Morales, and Sam Whitten represented
Colter
Ranch.
 
The group of Arizona Volunteers followed Lieutenant Colonel Woolsey’s direction and set off in pursuit of the Apaches.

On the third night of their pursuit, Woolsey announced they would continue marching through the night.
 
He divided the men into A Company, B Company, and C Company.
 
Will and his hands were part of B Company.
 
Each company spread out roughly a mile apart.
 
The A Company headed east and C Company headed southwest.
 
The B Company moved down the center of the nearby Squaw Canyon.
 
Within two days, the B Company spotted the band of Apaches.