Love Finds You in Lonesome Prairie, Montana (12 page)

Miriam released a breath. “We’re almost there. See that?” She pointed up ahead. “That’s Isaac’s house.”

Julia looked ahead, noting a small shed made of dirt and hay rising up from the land around it.

“All I see is that shed and the barn-structure behind it.” She surveyed the surrounding area.

The corners of Miriam’s mouth raised in an apologetic smile. “That’s Isaac’s place. It’s call a soddy. Doesn’t look like much, I suppose.”

“
That’
s the parson’s house?” Tucked into a small hillside, the “house” wasn’t even made of wood. It was just a big dirt clod that could be the residence of an oversized groundhog. Only a door and window gave evidence that it was a dwelling. Behind it stood a small barn that she supposed could shelter a horse.

It’s not even as big as the kitchen in the orphanage.
Julia wanted to cry, but she’d already wept enough that day. Instead, she laughed. “It’ll be fine. I’ve read about sod houses in books.”

“Probably saw a few on your train ride, too.”

Julia nodded.

“One of Isaac’s parishioners, Mr. Robertson, thought the parson should have his own place. Isaac had been staying with us whenever he was in the area. So he let Isaac use his land, and the two of them, with Jefferson and Abe, built the house and barn in an afternoon.”

“That was kind of them.”

Miriam glanced at Julia and laughed. “You poor dear. Look at you.”

Julia glanced at her clothes. Singe holes from the sparks flying through the train’s windows, a wet hem from the coulee, and a whole lot of dust. She could only imagine the state of her hair. She reached in the back for her parasol and popped it open.

“What?” she said, mockingly blinking her eyes. “Don’t I look like a fine New York lady?”

They both laughed as Miriam parked the wagon near the soddy. Julia hopped down, grateful to be on the hard earth, and hurried over to help Miriam. The pregnant woman clutched her belly as she gingerly climbed down.

“It’s getting close to the time to have this little one.” She cupped her hands under her round belly. “I’m getting sore.”

“I’m so sorry. It must be very uncomfortable.” Julia gazed at the one-windowed shelter and tilted her head. “Is it leaning?”

Miriam placed an arm around her shoulders and slanted her head as well. “Hmm…sort of is, isn’t it?” She wiped her hands on her apron as they approached the soddy.

Sprigs grew from the dirt roof, which was topped by a chimney. Miriam palmed a rocking chair of sticks and branches that stood outside next to the black door.

“Mrs. Wells made this chair for Isaac. She’s a member of the circuit in Lodge Pole, where he’s headed tonight.”

Julia touched it, surprised by the smooth surface and complex design. “It’s lovely.”

“See that?” Miriam pointed to a small wool welcome rug. The words,
As for me and my house, we will serve the L
ORD
, were woven into it. “The ladies from Fort Benton made that for him.” She opened the door and walked inside.

The cave-like room smelled of mud, sweat, and gunpowder.

“Let me get you some light.” Miriam fumbled for the lantern. Within a minute, a golden glow filled the dank room. A table, a bookshelf with a dozen or so books, and a woodstove filled the rest of the space. A small wooden bed sat on one side. Above the door was a set of deer horns, and a shotgun of some sort hung from them. Julia shivered at the sight.

Miriam rubbed her hands on her apron. “You must need to be fed and watered. Let me see if I can get a fire going.”

She’s talking about me like I’m her horse
…
or maybe one of her children.
Julia tried to hide her smile as she stepped to her side. “Here’s the wood and tinder.” She touched Miriam’s arm. “And actually, I know how to light a woodstove. My parents used to have one just like this. Go ahead and head for home. It’s been a long day for you, too.”

Miriam exhaled and her shoulders drooped. “I am getting pretty tuckered.”

A gust of wind blew, slamming the door shut.

Julia peered out the small, dingy window. The few white, willowy clouds had transformed into looming gray. “It’s getting stormy out there. You’d better go.”

“All right then. But before I go, I want to tell you another thing that helped me when we first came.” Miriam placed a hand on Julia’s back as they turned toward the door.

“I’d love any advice you can give.”

Miriam stopped and held Julia’s hands, and the deep brown eyes that had comforted her so much earlier today again enveloped Julia with a sense of peace, safety. “More than anything else, the one thing that helped this place feel like home was remembering that it’s
not
my home.”

Julia paused, unfolding the woman’s words. “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t understand yet, but you will. Pray about it. And…” Miriam touched Julia’s hair. “Did my brother give you a verse?”

Julia lifted her eyes. “Actually, he did. It was Psalm 63:1.”

Miriam pointed to a large family Bible sitting on the shelf. “You’re welcome to use that Bible. It was our great-great-grandfather’s from Scotland. Start by reading Psalm 63. Isaac’s got a knack for picking just the right verse.”

Julia opened her valise and displayed her own family Bible. “I will read it,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

Miriam embraced her tightly. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

Julia nodded. “I appreciate that.”

Julia watched Miriam go and then perched on the edge of the bed. She thought about the changes in her life. There had been a few, and this was just one more.

She sniffed the air and didn’t understand how someone could live in a dirt cave.
It’s just not civilized.
Then again, she didn’t have to worry about living here forever. It was just a temporary fix. Whether two days or even two months, she knew she’d be moving on—heading back to the land of paved streets, stone and brick buildings, and streetlamps.
I can do anything for a short amount of time.

It’s not forever
.

“Miriam will be back tomorrow,” she spoke out loud, but there was no one to comment. No one who heard her. In fact, she knew if she were to yell at the top of her lungs, there would be no one to hear.

She looked through the small window and then glanced around the space, taking it all in. And for the first time in her life Julia Cavanaugh realized she was completely and utterly alone.

Isaac pressed his body tightly against his mare, Virginia, as he rode at a gallop, hunkering under the stone-sized hail that pounded against his arms, neck, and back.

“Calamity!” Sidelong torrents hurled the icy orbs against his dog’s ribs. She yowled in pain. “Stay by me, girl.”

They’d left Aponi’s house two hours ago, the sky blue with a slight wind. After three miles, threatening clouds chased away the blue, changing the wide Montana expanse to closed-in, suffocating gloom. Thunder roared. Lightning, like claws, scratched the sky. Then came the inevitable hail. They were small beads at first, so Isaac had decided to forge ahead. Soon the balls grew to cherry-size, and now… Now his horse trod on dead jackrabbits, their bodies battered by the large hail.

It’d taken them the last hour to make it barely a half mile. Streaks of white ice marring his vision, Isaac attempted to veer his horse westward—or what he hoped was westward. Back to his soddy where they would be safe and dry.

“Lord, get us there before nightfall,” he cried out loud. With each stride, more hail pummeled his weakening body.

The sound of hoofbeats and jangling bridles gone, all the world seemed silent. Yet, as Julia listened, she became aware of softer, subtler sounds. The growing wind’s consistent drone. Crows cawing as they searched for shelter from the coming storm. She even sensed her own footsteps as she shifted from the red gingham curtains and stepped toward her valise next to the table. The same red-checkered material formed a tablecloth, and Julia wondered which parish ladies had given them to Parson Ike.

She plopped onto the bench, pulled out her Bible, and rested it on the table. She let her fingers glide over the ornate cover. Her father’s voice reading to her and her mother each night after supper echoed in her ears. She slipped the thin pages open to the verse Isaac had suggested, Psalm 63:1, but her weary eyes struggled to focus.
In the morning
. She’d read it then.

Leaving the Bible on the table, Julia slouched to the bed and slipped off her shoes. The bed creaked as Julia’s body sank into the soft padding. Her arms felt heavy. Her legs felt heavy. Her mind felt heavy, as if she’d been dipped in molten iron and left to harden.

Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but the strength to get up and fix herself a meal eluded her. Without bath or dinner, she slid her head against the pillow, drew the patchwork quilt over herself, and escaped into a deep sleep.

After what seemed like minutes, but must’ve been hours judging by the night sky, Julia was awakened by a loud hammering. At first groggy, she couldn’t imagine who’d be pounding on the orphanage door. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized where she was and bolted upright in bed. Her heart thrashed against her ribs.

Who was pounding on the soddy? Her mind foggy, she imagined Jesse James and his band of outlaws. Or Indians. Julia knew exactly what those Indians did to prairie women—sliced their scalps right off their heads. What if it was a bear? Julia sat frozen, fear paralyzing her.
O God, help me.

Sucking in a quick breath, she peeked out the window.
Oh
. She exhaled. Pounding hail was barely visible in the pale moonlight.
How silly of me.
She’d known a storm was coming. She was just surprised she’d slept through any of it. Realizing she wouldn’t get any more sleep till the weather calmed, she decided to get up and find something to eat. She peeked outside again at her first prairie storm. By the sound of it, it was a big one.

Reaching for the lantern, she paused as she felt something land on her head. “Oh my, the roof is leaking!” She touched her head, expecting to feel a wet spot, but instead some
thing
wriggled under her hand and tried to crawl up her arm.

She brushed against her hair frantically, squealed, and scampered to the other side of the bed. She groped in the dark for the lantern, found it, and lit it. Light filled the room, and she set the lantern on the small chair. Her eyes searched the blankets for the insect so she could shake it off. But before she could spot the disgusting creature something else tumbled from the earth above.
A spider.
Another squeal.

Julia shot a glance upward and realized the storm was forcing the critters to fall from the dirt roof. She guessed it was because they scurried through the sod above, trying to get away from the storm.

Returning to the bed, she threw herself on her back and grabbed for the blanket to cover her face. She wasn’t quick enough. A large, squirmy creature with scaly skin landed on her forehead with a thud.
A snake.

A snake! Julia screamed and flung it off her, not knowing where it landed or even what kind of snake it was.

A rattler,
she guessed.
I know it is!

Julia bounced from the bed onto the dirt floor. Her chest heaved. Her skin crawled. But she knew her only safe place was under that blanket. She ripped it from the bed, and moving the lantern to the table, she slouched on the bench. Not willing to touch her stockinged feet to the dirt, she lifted them up and hugged her knees. With trembling hands, she draped the blanket over her head.
Why am I here? I want to go back to New York
.

I’m going back. I’ll walk if I have to.

As she caught her breath, she heard another noise. With the hail beating down, she couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like footsteps. She waited, listening. The sound got louder.
Definitely footsteps.
She cautiously stood up and grabbed the shotgun from above the door. Unsure how to make it fire, she held it like a club.

Julia stood behind the door, waiting.

The door pushed open.