Linda Ford (13 page)

They had the added threat of another storm. The idea of being caught in another like last night was enough to make him shudder.

He eased to his feet and crept away to a spot where he could study the surrounding land. For a long time he gazed at the scene before him. The mountains weren’t visible today, hidden in the misty horizon. To the north he could see a heavy shower, then a spear of sun broke through and painted a rainbow across the sky. He could hear the distant wail of a train.

He returned to camp and quietly saddled Rebel.

“Where are you going?” Maggie’s weak voice spun him around. She watched him with shadowed eyes.

His throat tightened. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a wet dishrag.” Her voice cracked, and he sprang to get her a drink.

Her hands shook as she took the cup, and he steadied it, wrapping his fingers over her cold ones.

She lay back, panting.

He grabbed one of the dry blankets and wrapped it about her.

“Were you going someplace?” She sounded weary.

“We need water.” He rubbed his neck. How could he leave her? Yet they had to have water.

“How far do you have to go?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say for sure.”

She tried to sit up. “It might storm again.”

“Lay down and keep covered.”

She shook his hands off and pushed the covers down. “I don’t want to spend another night here.”

Both children wakened and listened to the exchange.

“Crane, it was so awful,” Betsy whispered. “I was so scared, but I kept thinking of that picture Maggie told us about.” She touched Maggie’s face. “You know. The one where Jesus reached down and helped the lost lamb.”

She shuddered. “I know He helped us, but I don’t want to stay here.”

Ted nodded.

“I suppose it’s best if we stay together.” Crane sighed. “On one condition.” He gave Maggie his fiercest look. “You don’t do anything.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he feared she was going to argue, but she sighed deeply and flopped down. “I don’t think I’ll mind taking things easy for a bit.”

“Betsy, you gather up all the stuff hanging on the trees. Ted, you help with the horses.”

The children scampered to do his bidding. He couldn’t tear himself away from the look Maggie gave him. How much did she remember from last night? Had she heard his confession of love? He waited, hoping she would somehow let him know, but instead she sighed and turned away.

“I know I’m causing you a lot of trouble—” Her voice trailed off.

Laughing, he stood to his feet. “This is nothing.” He wanted to make light of it, tell her a story about trying to corral some wild cows, somehow convince her he’d handled much worse situations, but he felt hollow inside. He knew he’d never faced anything in his life that made his nerves shake the way they did as he thought of making Maggie ride in her weakened condition.

As soon as they were ready, he lifted her to the saddle. She gripped the saddlehorn so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

She gritted her teeth. “I can do anything I make up my mind to do.”

“No doubt,” he muttered, leading them down the hill.

By the time they reached the bottom, Maggie’s lips had a strained white ring around them. It wasn’t a hot day; yet beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but she glared at him and muttered, “I’m fine.”

He turned away mumbling, “Of course you are. And I’m the king’s brother.”

“What’d you say, Crane?” Betsy called.

“Nothin’. Just thinkin’ out loud.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I know.” She’d done well to be so patient. “Just a bit longer.”

A glance over his shoulder at Maggie clinging bravely to the saddle sent a squeezing tightness around his ribs.

A bunch of trees came in sight. He glimpsed a reflection of a stream through the trees and heaved a sigh. “We’ll set up camp here.”

He soon had a fire going, and while Ted tended a pot of oatmeal, he built a shelter and carried Maggie to it. By the time he’d tugged her boots off and pulled the covers around her shoulders, she was asleep.

“Is she all right?” Ted asked, his face creased with worry.

“I ’spect so. Just a little weak from being sick.” He said the words with a lot more conviction than he felt. “We’ll stay here until she feels stronger.”

Satisfied with his answer, the children played with Cat.

Maggie slept the rest of the afternoon and into the next day. Crane stayed close by, trying to hide his worry from the children. He sat nursing a coffee, staring at the flickering flames, when he heard her clear her throat.

“Got any more of that?” She nodded toward his cup.

He leapt to his feet and took her some coffee. “You feeling better?”

She drank several swallows before she answered. “Better’n what?”

He laughed. “Guess you must be.”

“You going to stand there gawking or get me something to eat?”

He laughed again. “What would Madame like?” He was so relieved to see her awake, he would have gone bear hunting if she’d asked.

“Food would be good,” she muttered.

His shout of laughter brought the children running.

He cooked her oatmeal, figuring it would be easy on her stomach. By the time she finished, her eyelids were closing. He eased her back to the bed. He could barely breathe.
Thank You, God, for her strength. And her beauty.
He sat there a long time.

❧

When the coffee boiled the next morning, she rolled over so she could watch the fire. “I’m feeling much better today.”

“I’m glad.” He sat beside her.

“I mean we should be moving along today.”

He stared at her. He knew better than to argue when she had that look, but he had no intention of dragging her across the country, wilting like a flower in the sun.

“I mean it,” she mumbled. “What’s the point in sitting here staring at the sky day after day?”

“The point,” he ground out the words, “Is in letting you get your strength back.”

“I think I’m fit to be the best judge of that.”

“You’d think so.”

She didn’t blink before his glare. “I think I am.” She smiled.

Maggie could have asked for anything at that moment. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to think of something halfway intelligent to say. And failed.

She continued to smile at him as she called, “Ted, Betsy, up and at it. We’re heading out as soon as we’re ready.”

Betsy erupted from her blankets. “Good. I’m tired of waiting around. What’s for breakfast?”

Ted emerged more slowly. “I’ll go get the horses.”

Crane had lost the battle. He prepared to leave, but his thoughts troubled him. How was he going to tell Maggie how he felt about her?

❧

For days, Maggie was exhausted after a few hours in the saddle, and they stopped early; but as she said, they were making progress slowly.

Crane wished he could likewise feel he was making progress with Maggie, but with each passing day, they slipped back more and more into the roles they had before the storm. He sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the way they had been; he simply wanted more.

He practiced how he would tell her he’d changed, but the time never seemed right. And it grew more and more difficult to find the words.

Days later, with the sun glistening off the Rockies, they rode down the streets of Calgary. The children couldn’t stop staring at the elaborate sandstone buildings, some three stories tall.

Crane had heard about the fire of ’86 that had taken out a large part of the town. After that the town fathers had encouraged the use of sandstone for building.

He saw a sign that said “Attorneys at Law” and marked the spot in his mind.

Maggie swayed in the saddle. They needed to find a place soon.

He reined in at the general store and hurried inside. “I’m looking for some temporary quarters.”

The pot-bellied man eyed him up and down. “Rooms for rent at any of the hotels.” Crane shook his head. “Don’t want a room. I need a place my wife can rest for a few days.” He jerked his head toward the door.

The man shuffled over to peer out the window. “That your family?”

“Yup.”

“I see what you mean. Your wife looks done in.”

“She’s been sick.”

Bushy eyebrows jerked up. “She still sick?”

Crane shook his head. “Just tired of riding.”

The man hesitated, then gave a brisk nod. “I don’t usually do this, but I have a house on the edge of town that’s empty. You’re welcome to it as long as you need.”

“ ’Preciate that.”

They made arrangements, and Crane bought supplies. Then he led the tired trio to the house.

“We’ll be staying here for now.” He took in the upturned chairs, the mattresses rolled up on the two sets of bunks. It was dirty, but nothing that couldn’t be swept up. “It’ll do.”

He set one chair upright and pushed Maggie to it. “You sit,” he ordered, “while we get things cleaned up.”

She nodded.

He figured it was a good measure of how poorly she felt that she put up no argument.

“Ted, there’s wood out back. Let’s get a fire going and heat some water. Betsy, get the broom I bought.”

He cleaned the beds first, then unrolled some bedding and lay Maggie down. She was as limp as a rag in his arms. She curled on her side, bunched her hands at her chin, and slept. The dark circles under her eyes troubled him.

Hours later, with the children’s help, he’d gotten rid of the cobwebs and crud. He brought in the saddles and packs. Ted pumped water into the trough at the back for the horses as Crane prepared supper.

Maggie stirred long enough to eat a few mouthfuls of stew, then fell asleep again.

“Maggie’s sure tired a lot.” Betsy’s voice was thin with worry.

“She just needs some rest,” Crane assured the child, praying he was right.

“She was pretty sick after the storm, wasn’t she?” Ted asked.

“Guess she got some dirty water in her stomach.”

“She’s going to be all right, isn’t she?” Ted asked as he perched on the edge of his chair.

“I’m pretty sure she is.” Crane chuckled. “ ’Spect she’d skin us alive if she could hear us talking.”

Ted smiled. “ ’Spect you’re right.”

Betsy leaned against Crane. “Nobody’s read to us for days.”

He wrapped his arm around her. “I do believe you’re right. Do you know what?”

She shook her head.

“I bet I could read you a story.”

She turned her big brown gaze to him. “For sure?”

“Yup. I believe I could. As soon as you’re ready for bed.”

She didn’t have to be told twice. “Can I sleep here?” She pointed to the other lower bunk and, at Crane’s nod, spread her bedroll. “Will we have a house as nice as this when we get where we’re going?”

“Yup. Maybe even nicer.”

Ted looked thoughtful. “We just about there?”

“Yup.”

He sighed. “Good.”

Crane studied the boy. He’d never complained or shown any sign of being tired. Crane shook his head. If the truth be told, he guessed he was about ready to settle down too.

Betsy handed him the Bible. In the far corners of his mind, he remembered something his ma had read and found it.

“ ‘The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.’ ”

He read the whole psalm, then closed the book. The room was quiet as Crane searched for the words he wanted to say.

“You know, everything Maggie’s been telling us about God is true. I think I always knew it, but somehow I figured I didn’t need it. But it’s like she says, even when we forget about God and get lost, He finds us and helps us back.”

He thought of how easy it was to come back. “I remember my own ma saying how God loved us so much He sent Jesus, His Son, to be the way back to God.” Maybe Ma was like Maggie; she got so lost in her hurt and anger after Pa left that she forgot about God’s love and only remembered it just before
she died. That was what she’d tried to tell him. That was why
she was so all-fired set he take the Bible.

“This story we read about the shepherd,” he patted the Bible, “It’s a story that tells us how He leads us and guides us and takes care of us.”

Betsy’s muffled voice came from her bunk. “Is He taking care of Maggie right now?”

“I’m sure He is, but it doesn’t hurt to ask Him.”

All was quiet.

“You mean pray, don’t you?” Ted asked.

“Yup.”

“I don’t know how to pray,” Ted whispered. “All I know how to do is cuss.”

His words startled Crane. Apart from the first day or two, he’d never heard the boy cuss.

“I do it inside me.”

Crane took a deep breath, wishing he was better at finding words. “I ’spect praying is as simple as talking to God.”

“Crane.” It was Betsy. “You pray.”

He almost choked. But he couldn’t refuse. He swallowed hard. “God,” he began, “thank You for finding us when we’re lost. Now we’re needing a shepherd to help us and lead us. And most of all we need You to make Maggie better.” He fell silent. Suddenly he had so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words.

“Now I know she’ll be fine.” Betsy’s voice was full of confidence, and she shuffled around in bed, getting comfortable. “Good night, Crane,” she called. “ ’Night, Ted.”

Long after the children had settled, Crane sat up. Somehow, he promised himself, before they left this place, he would find a way of telling Maggie he loved her. His heart lurched as he remembered their agreement—no romance, just partners. What if she preferred to keep it that way?

He pressed his forehead to his palms. If she did, then he would accept it, living his love out quietly, but he could not let it go on without telling her.

If only he was better with his words.

❧

They stayed in the little house several days. Crane waited and watched for a chance to tell Maggie how he felt, but the chance never seemed to come. The children were always close by, or Maggie was tired, though he was pleased to see her gaining strength every day.