RR05 - Tender Mercies (39 page)

He nodded. “I’ll be grateful to get that part over with. Wish now I’d waited to come home.”

“You can’t mean that.”

He scrubbed his scalp again. “Yes and no.”

“Pa?” Deborah hung near his elbow.

Without another word, he put an arm around her and pulled her to him. If only he could do the same for Manda.

But when Manda came in, as usual she said not a word. She ate, helped with clearing the table, and got out her school books.

“Manda.” His voice made her chalk falter on the slate.

She waited without looking up.

“Thank you for taking such good care of the horses and things around here.” When he leaned over to touch her, she flinched away.

Zeb looked across the table at Mary Martha, who shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“G’night.” The girl snatched up her books and headed up the stairs as if they were chasing her.

Bridget turned from washing dishes in a pan on the stove. “Your bath water is about hot.”

“Good, thanks.”

“I’ll tuck the girls in, give you some privacy.” Mary Martha held out a hand to Deborah. “Let’s get you washed up, gettin’ past your bedtime.”

Deborah reached up and kissed Zeb on the cheek. “I’ve missed you, Pa. Manda said you weren’t coming back, but I knew you would.”

As soon as the dishes were done, Bridget dragged the tub in front of the stove and began pouring the hot water in.

“I can do that.” Zeb got to his feet. “I’m so tired, I think I could sleep for a week.”

“Bridget has been sleeping in your room, we can . . .”

“No!” Zeb waved his hands like she was a pesky fly. “I’ll sleep in the spare room.” He looked around like an animal seeking escape. “I . . . I can’t . . .”

“Zeb, that’s all right. I understand. I’ll make up that bed then.” She went softly up the stairs, aching for the man who sat as if he had no will to move—ever again.

While the funeral for her mother had carried a sense of rejoicing for a saint who went home, the people gathered around the five pine boxes looked as desolate as the windswept prairie. She heard the ancient words as from a far distance, not permitting herself to look at John. His voice broke more than once, and someone behind her was sobbing. Manda and Deborah stood on either side of her, hanging on to her hands as to a lifeline in a tempest-tossed sea. Zeb stood like a wooden soldier right behind her.

One by one the boxes were lowered into the holes that had been dug for them.

Ah, Katy, I don’t even have any flowers for you, and the laughter is all gone
. Sleet stung their faces as Mary Martha held Deborah against her side. Manda had taken two steps away and released her hand.

Yesterday the birds were singing, and today winter is trying to blow us off the land again
.

“Let us pray.” John closed his Bible. “Heavenly Father, we do not understand thy plan and thy purposes, but we know that thou art our God, our Father, and our Comforter. We thank thee that thou hast prepared a mansion for us in the heavenly places, and that we will see our loved ones when we get there too.” He stopped, blew his nose, and stumbled over the next words. “For all thy blessings, we praise thy holy name.” He raised his voice and made the sign of the cross in the air. “The Lord bless thee and keep thee. The Lord make his countenance to shine upon thee and give thee his peace. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The wind clacked the branches of the cottonwood tree someone had planted in the cemetery. No more lonesome sound had ever been heard.

“Go in peace,” John said, dismissing the group of mourners.

Mary Martha took Zeb’s arm and turned to look for Bridget. She stood between Penny and Hjelmer, with Thorliff in front as if protecting her. That was as it should be.

“The ladies have prepared a meal for us at the church. Won’t you all please come?” John announced to the crowd standing so quietly and soberly.

Mary Martha looked up to catch his gaze resting upon her. Oh, to be able to run to his arms and be held while she cried out her sorrow.

Instead she gathered the girls, and the four of them made their way back to the church.

They stayed only long enough to be polite. Mary Martha watched Zeb’s valiant effort to accept the condolences offered, but she could tell that while he might be talking and breathing, there was no life in her baby brother.

By the time they came out, snow covered the mud ruts, the dead grass, and the fresh mounds of dirt in the graveyard. It stung their faces on the way home.

But in the morning it was gone.

Along with the girls.

Mary Martha threw on a coat and tore out to the barn, where Zeb was milking one of the cows. “Zeb, they’re gone!”

“Who’s gone?” He kept his head in the cow’s flank, turning only enough to see her in the lantern light.

“Manda and Deborah.”

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know, but they aren’t in their beds, not anywhere in the house.”

“Go check the horse while I finish this cow.”

Mary Martha checked the stalls and the corral outside where some of the animals stayed. Manda’s horse was missing.

“Fool kids. What’s the matter with them?” Zeb slammed his hand against the doorframe and flinched.

“I don’t know, but I’m going with you.”

“No, you stay here in case they come back.”

“They won’t come back. Not Manda. Once she makes up her mind . . .”

“I know. Like a bear trap.” He handed her the pail of milk. “You fix us some food to take, and I’ll saddle the horses.”

Within minutes they were loping across the prairie, staying clear of the roads that were ankle-deep mud. They checked at the Bjorklund farms, Goodie’s house, and the store. No one had seen the two leave.

“You go tell Pastor Solberg, and I’ll go get Baptiste to help me track.”

Haakan rode up with several others. “We can all fan out and search. Any idea where they might go?”

God, please help us. Protect our two errant ones, please. We can’t do with any more loss around here
. She opened her eyes and nodded. “I know where they are headed.”

“Where?” Zeb looked up from adjusting his cinch.

“To their homestead.”

“They can’t get that far.”

“No, but Manda will give it a try.”

They caught up with the girls just before dusk, thanks to Baptiste, who had become as good a tracker as his grandmother.

“Manda, Deborah, what in heaven’s name is the matter with you?” Zeb clutched the reins of their horse as if he might strangle the leathers, since he didn’t dare touch the two girls.

“We ain’t stayin’ where we ain’t wanted.” Manda wore her old slouch hat so low on her forehead, her eyes were invisible.

“Manda, darlin’, where did you get that idea?” Mary Martha wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug them or swat them first.

“Zeb don’t want to stay here. You and Pastor Solberg are . . .”

“Manda MacCallister, for cryin’ out loud . . .” Zeb took his hat off and scrubbed a frustrated hand through his hair, sending it flying every which way.

“If that don’t beat all.” Haakan shook his head.

“So, we’re leavin’, and that’s that.”

“That’s not that!” The horse threw up its head at Zeb’s roar. “I’m your father, and I say you are coming home to where you belong. Now!” He climbed back on his horse and tugged on the reins of the other. “Come on horse, git up.”

“Zeb.” Mary Martha rode up beside him. “Please.”

“All right.”

Mary Martha dismounted and stood beside the girl’s horse. “Look, Manda, Deborah, Pastor Solberg and I are good friends and . . .”

Manda’s snort could be heard a mile away across the prairie.

“Whatever happens, you are our family, and families stick together. No matter how hard the times are.”

“I told you so.” Deborah slid to the ground and clutched Mary Martha around the waist. “I want to go home.”

Bridget had a hot meal ready for them when they returned somewhere around midnight, thanks to a full moon that seemed to lead the way.

“Now, you got to promise me you won’t do such a numskulled thing again, you hear?” Zeb looked Manda right in the eye. “You are my daughter, my eldest daughter, and one I expect to have some sense. You got somethin’ to say, you just say it. MacCallisters don’t run away, and I know the Nortons don’t neither.”

Manda looked from Zeb to Mary Martha and back. She locked her arms over her skinny chest and glared at them both. “I’ll stay.”

“Promise?”

“I said I would. That’s enough!”

“And I know you don’t go back on your word.” Mary Martha laid her hands on Manda’s shoulders. “Child, you gave us such a fright.” She laid her cheek on top of Manda’s head and felt the girl sigh and lean slightly back.

“I’d think someone smart as you would have at least taken a decent horse.” Zeb wagged a finger at her.

“I weren’t takin’ nothing not my own.”

“Manda, listen to me and listen right good. All that I have is yours. This place and all the stock and everything is
ours
. Do you understand? That’s what family is.”

Manda gave him her “I’ll-wait-and-see” look, but her back no longer looked as though she wore a suit of armor holding her upright.

The following Sunday afternoon, a day brighter than a shiny new penny, Pastor Solberg rode into the yard at the MacCallister ranch. He looped his horse’s reins over the fence post and strode up the steps, knocking on the door with only the slightest hesitation.

“Why, J—Pastor Solberg. Come on in.” Mary Martha stepped back and motioned him in.

“Later maybe. Right now I thought you and I could go for a ride, just the two of us.” He stammered over the last words.

“Why, I guess that would be all right. Zeb and the girls are out at the corral.”

Within minutes a horse was saddled for her, and Zeb held it while she stepped up on a block and slid her foot into the stirrup. Settling her skirts about her legs, she took up the reins. “Thank you. We won’t be gone long.”

“Take your time.” Zeb winked at her.

She could feel the heat rush up her neck and wash over her face. The urge to pull his hat brim down over his eyes made her fingers twitch. Instead, she reined the horse around and trotted out of the yard.

“Where would you like to go?” She lifted her face to the sun. How wonderful it felt, and so different from a week ago.

“How about over to the Park River?”

“Fine with me.” They kicked their horses into a prairie-eating lope, throwing mud up behind them. Reaching the river, they stopped side by side.

“Come, I have something for you.” John dismounted and tied his horse to a low branch.

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

Mary Martha rolled her eyes and shook her head, then dismounted as he asked. “Now what is it?”

He beckoned her with one finger and eased his way down the bank. Quickly he snapped off a couple of willow branches and handed them to her. “See, the pussy willows are out. Spring is really here.”

Mary Martha stroked the soft fuzz with a gentle fingertip. “How lovely they are.” She looked up to see him studying her face. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to find violets, but . . .” He shrugged. “They aren’t in bloom yet, and I can’t wait any longer.”

“Wait for what?” Her fingers kept stroking the soft fur while she studied his face.

“For you.”

The words hung on the air, light as thistledown. A bird sang in the branches near the frozen river.

She began shaking her head.

“Is it that you don’t love me enough, then?” John gripped her hands with all the fierceness of his soul.

She shook her head.
No, it is that I am afraid you don’t love me, that you still have Katy in your heart
. How could she ask him such a question? The tears he’d shed at the funeral—were they for all those he buried or for Katy? A lump blocked her throat. She wanted to reach out and smooth away the lines from his forehead, but she feared this last winter had written them there permanently.

“What then?”

Mary Martha pushed away the Mary side of her and let the practical Martha come forth. She sucked in a deep breath.
Now or never. If he answers wrong, I will return to my mother’s house and take up my life there
. The thought brought tears burning in her eyes, making her sniff.