by Mercy Levy
Papa looked down at the fake gold in his hand and then lifted his eyes up to me. His mind soaked in my words and he began reflecting on the horrible day many years back when a group of men stormed into our village and began attacking innocent people, burning down their homes, and forcing them to leave. Then he thought about Joshua and how Joshua how protected me from a dangerous man, risking his own life in return. He sighed. “Eva, Joshua is a good boy, yes?”
“Joshua is a good man, Papa.”
“But could he ever understand our ways?” Papa asked in a soft voice and looked down at the fake gold in his hand. “Eva, your children must carry on our ways, can’t you see that? If you marry a foreigner our ways will be forgotten.”
“No, Papa, our ways will never be forgotten. You will teach my children the old ways.”
“I will find our gold and turn us back to Italy and offer you the life you deserve,” Papa replied and walked outside. He bumped into Maureen. Maureen was carrying a shovel.
“Oh,” Maureen said, “hello, Mr. Fontana. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” she told Papa.
Papa stared at the shovel in Maureen’s hand and then he studied the dirt on the gray work dress she was wearing. His eyes went wide. “My gold.”
Maureen looked past Papa and saw me standing in the doorway. She smiled. “Hello, Eva.”
Before Papa could respond Joshua and Mrs. McClure came riding back up on their horses. Mrs. McClure rode up to Papa and climbed down from her horse. “Mr. Fontana,” she smiled.
Joshua jumped down from his horse and ran over to me. “Eva,” he said in an excited voice, “there really is gold on this land. Ma and me, well, we rode over to the old mine to put some fake gold down. I went into the mine to lay some of the fake gold around…the mine caved in with me.” My eyes went wide with fear. “I’m okay,” Joshua promised. “I got out in the mine in time…but look at this,” he said and reached into pocket and pulled out a large nugget of gold. “Real, gold, Eva.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. McClure smiled at Papa. “We were planning to make you believe the fake gold we were stashing around your land was real in order to make you stay, Papa. But as it turns out, there is actual, real gold on your land.”
Joshua looked at Papa. “Please, Mr. Fontana, don’t take Eva and leave. I’m sorry we tried to fool you, but…I love Eva and I want to marry her.” Tears began to drop from Joshua’s eyes. “Sir, I love your daughter. Can’t you see that?”
Papa stared at Joshua. He stared at the tears streaming from his eyes. And then a miracle happened. Papa walked over to Joshua, wrapped his arms around him and said: “Your tears is the only gold my Eva needs. I can see now that I have been very foolish in thinking my Eva needed to marry a man from the old country. Sometimes this old man forgets to listen to his own heart and lets his stubborn old mind do his thinking for him.”
Mrs. McClure waved me over. I ran out to her. Mrs. McClure placed my hands in Joshua’s hand and then kissed my cheek. “God has worked a beautiful miracle today,” she nearly cried.
“Yes, but I am still without land and a home, now,” Papa sighed. “And the gold now belongs to you.”
“No,” Mrs. McClure told Papa. “Didn’t you hear what my son told you? Papa, we were attempting to trick you into staying here. Eva did not sell your land to me. This land and all the gold on it belongs to you.” Mrs. McClure laughed. “Come on inside your stubborn old mule and have a cup of coffee with me.”
“Well,” Maureen smiled, “I guess there’s no sense in wearing this ugly old dress. I think I’ll go home and change.”
Joshua and I watched Papa walk Mrs. McClure inside the house and Maureen ride off on her horse. I smiled. “What a beautiful painting this has turned out to be. And now, the last few strokes on the brush will unite two hearts together, yes?”
“Yes,” Joshua smiled happily and sweetly kissed me. “But I think the painting is just beginning, Eva. There’s still thousands and thousands of paint strokes left for you to make.”
I raised my left hand and touched Joshua’s face. “Beginning with you,” I said and placed my head on Joshua’s shoulder. Inside the house, Papa let out a loud laugh. Above the house, a beautiful soft blue morning sky winked down at me with sweet joy.
<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
Even though Papa was a very rich man, he was still stubborn. “I demand an Italian name for my grandson,” he fussed, wearing a fancy gray suit and smoking an expensive cigar.
Mrs. McClure wiped cigar smoke from her face, snatched the cigar out of Papa’s mouth, and tossed it off the front porch into the yard. “My granddaughter will be named after me,” she fussed back.
Papa huffed. “My grandson will have an honorable name,” he griped.
Mr. Jones shook his head and walked away toward the barn. “Those two will be at it for a while,” he said.
Joshua smiled. He reached down and touched my pregnant stomach with his right hand. “How are you feeling?” he asked in a loving voice.
I let my eyes walk out across the sleepy land. The sky was soft and dark in the east and fiery in the west. The large barn seemed to yawn in the late autumn day, allowing a crisp breeze to play through its open doors; I felt the breeze wonder through my long hair with gentle fingers and then tug at the pink dress covering my stomach. Happiness and peace covered the land with songs of joy. “Glory to God in the Highest,” I smiled, “because God is so wonderful.”
Joshua wrapped his arm around me and walked me off toward the barn, through air that smelled of hay and pumpkin pie, and across a sleepy evening filled with the sounds of two people fussing over the names of their grandchildren. As I walked with Joshua to the barn I looked up into his face and saw a man who my heart was eternally in love with. I found it strange how God had brought me and Papa all the way from Italy to a strange land where my husband was waiting for me. But I knew the heart of God was always the truest gold and created the most beautiful paintings. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Eva,” Joshua smiled happily and softly pulled me closer to him. “Now if we only get Ma and Papa to stop fussing.”
I giggled. “Perhaps it is better if we go to the barn.” Joshua agreed. Oh, what a beautiful life.
The End
Beth’s Western Love Story
Chapter 1
Dusty Music
As I took a bow, I thought to myself, I can’t wait to get out of this dusty little town.
I hated being a singer. I hated being dragged from one miserable little town to the next, performing for a bunch of drunk cowboys who yelled and hollered at my beauty rather than my singing voice. I hated living in hotel rooms and eating the same old foods. I hated wearing the same old dresses and seeing the same old faces. I wanted excitement, wonder, adventure, mystery…and love. After all, I was getting any younger. A girl of twenty-two had to start thinking about her future. I wasn’t going to be singing in duty old town all my life. But I sighed as I took a second bow before a room filled with drunk cowboys. For the time being, I was trapped.
“Hey good looking, why don’t you come and have a drink with me after you get freshened up!” an ugly, smelly, cowboy yelled at me and slapped his buddy sitting next to him on the shoulder. His buddy laughed and blew me a kiss.
“I’ll like to dig your grave,” I mumbled under my breath and walked off a dusty wooden stage feeling like a broken down old mule. My long, pretty black hair was sweaty. My lovely face was red and tired. I felt very unattractive, even though I was wearing my best pink dress that always made me feel pretty.
“You did great,” Samantha greeted me backstage.
“Great?” I huffed and blew a long bang off my face, “once again, my dear friend, I have performed for a room full of drunken baboons who possess the intelligence of a wild skunk. Of course,” I added, “I believe I just insulted a wild skunk by associating those drunken baboons with it.”
Samantha grinned. She was an older woman, in her midsixties, who was wild and rough around th
e edges. She was the type of woman that let her gray hair run free and always wore the same old brown dress. Her face was tough, hard and mean as nails—but deep inside of her soul was a heart that was kind, gentle and loving. “We pulled in good money tonight,” Samantha told me and patted a metal money box that she was holding. “The owner of this establishment has asked us to stay and perform for a second night. It seems like it’s payday around here and the cowboys are looking to spend some money.”
“Oh, a second, miserable night in this miserable town,” I fussed. “Look around, Samantha,” I said and threw my arms around the dusty backstage, “what do you see?”
Samantha examined the backstage. “Wooden chairs, some tables, a few boxes and over there I see a couple of horseshoes lying on the floor.”
“Exactly,” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air. “Chairs for drunk cowboys to sit in, tables for drunk cowboys to sit at and play poker, boxes full of old whiskey bottles…oh, what a dream come true to be standing here.”
Samantha grinned at me. She was used to my little pouting fits. “You wants the stars, eh?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, tonight you get to sleep on a soft bed, have food in your stomach, and breath in your lungs. Thank the Good Lord, girl, for those gifts.”
I sighed. “I know…I know…” I said and started romping around with my shoulders hung low. “Samantha, I just want…more. Tonight I performed for a room full of sweaty, drunk, cowboys who smelled worse than a troop of skunks.”
“I don’t approve of the drinking,” Samantha agreed, “but we don’t live in one of those fancy cities. This is the Nevada territory, girl. We book our shows wherever we can.”
“Why can’t get go to San Francisco or Sacramento?” I begged. I stopped walking, looked down, and spotted a set of horseshoes. “Oh,” I pouted and kicked at one of the horseshoes.
“We can’t go to one of them fancy cities because we ain’t got the money to live in them,” Samantha pointed out. “Those fancy cities are full of women just like yourself, lined up around every building, waiting to be heard. Why if we went to one of them places we would starve just waiting to get you an audition.”
“I would rather starve,” I said.
Samantha sighed. She walked over to me and put a gentle arm around my shoulder. “Now, you don’t mean that.”
“No,” I admitted in a pouty voice. I looked into Samantha’s loving eyes. The woman was a second mother to me. My real mother had died when I was five and Samantha had raised me ever since. Of course, at the time, Samantha was married to a very wealthy man who drank his fortune away, leaving Samantha a poor widow. Samantha didn’t fuss or grip or anything. She buried her husband, sold what she could, and hit the trail. I was seventeen at the time. And it was then that Samantha began having me start performing for money.
“Beth,” Samantha told me, “I grew up poor. My Pa would work his hands into the grave just to put a few pieces of bread on the table. When I met my husband, I thought I found the world. No more being poor or hungry or worried about how I was going to pay my debts. I bought fancy dresses and went to social gatherings, acting like all fake and rotted inside. When my husband died, I threw all them things away, put back on my poor woman’s dress, and found myself all over again. I learned to be grateful for what the Good Lord was given me instead of being ungrateful for the things I thought I wanted but didn’t have.”
I lay my head over on Beth’s shoulder. “I just wish we owned a house and some land and a little garden…maybe some few flowers beds. I just wish we had a place to call our own. I just wish I could sing for people who appreciated music instead of my looks. I just wish…” I sighed. “I guess I’m wishing when I need to be grateful, huh?”
“I would say that statement is right on target,” Samantha told me and rubbed my shoulder. “Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Let’s go eat,” Samantha smiled and walked out of the smelly theater house onto a dark, hot, dirt street. The street was full of cowboys standing around, talking, laughing, shooting their guns up into the air, and acting plum silly. I shook my head and disgust and followed Samantha down the street to a hotel that offered halfway decent lodging and food. We walked past two cowboys who were leaning against the door of a lawyer’s office. One of the cowboys spotted me, reached out, and grabbed my arm. “Hey, how about a kiss?” he asked me smelling like yellow whiskey. A second later he was lying on the ground, unconscious.
“Teach your friend some manners,” Samantha said and wiped her fist off on her dress.
“Yes, ma’am,” the second cowboy said in a scared voice and backed away into the street and took off running like a scolded dog.
“Come on,” I told Samantha and hooked my arm through hers, “let’s go have dinner.”
Samantha smiled. “Beth,” she said and walked away from the unconscious cowboy, “look up and tell me what you see.”
I looked up into a clear night sky. I spotted millions of bright, twinkling, stars. “I see the stars…over there is the constellation Leo…and over there is Virgo…no moon tonight because it’s the new moon.”
“You always did love astronomy.”
“The Heavens fascinate me,” I admitted. “I sometimes wonder why God designed the Heavens the way He did? I sometimes wonder what’s out there…all those stars…a tiny little speck in the night sky…but if I stood on one of those stars, the earth would be just a tiny little speck, too, I guess.”
“Someday the Good Lord will let us know why He made the Heavens the way He did,” Samantha smiled. “Way up there is eternity. And that’s what I want you to see.”
“Why?”
“Because life, girl, is short. We’re just a puff of smoke, here today and gone tomorrow. I’m sure not getting any younger,” Samantha explained.
“You’re not dying, either.”
“No, I still got many good years left,” Samantha promised. “But the years you and I have left on this earth are a mere second compared to the Good Lord’s eternity. So why bother yourself with this old world, honey? The Good Lord is in control. He has us exactly where He wants us to be. You have to trust that. Tonight we’re in this town, and in a few days, we’ll be somewhere else. But why we’re here, don’t you think it’s a good idea to make the best what you have and what’s around you?”
“You’re asking me to stop complaining, aren’t you?”
Samantha laughed. “No,” she said and nudged me with her shoulder. “I’m asking you to look around at the beauty that the Good Lord has surrounded us with.”
“A dusty off town full of drunk cowboys?”
“Look past that,” Samantha told me.
I stopped walking and looked up and down the street. For a moment I imagined the street filled with laughing children, women out doing their shopping, honest men carrying out their chores, and bright, warm sunlight. Suddenly the dim, dusty little town I couldn’t wait to depart transformed into a cozy family town filled with love and life. But the sound of shooting guns caused me to blink and brought my mind back to the reality. “People sure mess up a good thought.”
“Come on,” Samantha smiled and walked me into the hotel. “Let’s fill our bellies and get some sleep.”
<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
Samantha and I sat down at a back table positioned near the back wall next to a window. The dining room was full of people—decent looking people dressed in suits and dresses—eating steak dinners. No one paid me and Samantha any mind as we sat down. “I guess you’re right,” I said.
“About what?”
“If we went to San Francisco or Sacramento we would starve. This room if full or pretty ladies. I would be just one more face in a sea of others,” I explained.
“You have a lovely singing voice.”
“There are women who can sing better than me,” I pointed out.
Before Samantha could reply a tall man with short black hair walked over to our table. He was wearing a badge and
carrying a gun. “Ma’am, are you Beth Connor?” he asked me.
“Why, yes, I am,” I said in a confused voice. I looked at Samantha. Samantha raised her hand at me.
“Is something the matter?” Samantha asked the man.
“Oh no,” the man said and smiled. “I just wanted to say that I thought your singing tonight was mighty pretty. I was standing in the back of the room making sure the guys didn’t get out of hand.”
“Oh…well, thank you,” I smiled. “It’s nice to receive an honest compliment from a gentleman.”
Samantha eyed the man with curiosity. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” she asked.
“Well, ma’am, my name is Matthew Barrymore. A few years ago, I started being Sheriff in this town. Before that, I worked in Texas as a deputy.”
“No,” Samantha said, “I’m sure I’ve seen you before.”
Matthew scratched the back of his head. “I spent most of life in Texas. My Pa was a lawman, When I became of age I took a job as his deputy.”
“Texas,” Samantha whispered and then slowly began nodding her head. “Were you working in a town called Bear Flats?”
Matthew looked off at the window and walked off into his memory. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in a strange voice. “I would rather forget that place if it’s all the same with you.”
“Bear Flats?” I asked.
Samantha picked up a glass of water and took a drink. “You were in visiting your cousin in California. I went to Texas to visit my brother before he passed on,” she explained. “This was about seven years back, I’d say.” Samantha looked at Matthew. “You were the lawman on duty when that bank was robbed.”
