by Mercy Levy
“Come for what?” I asked, wondering what any of this had to do with Veronica or Jack.
Jon looked around the dining room again and then said: “I hear Jack talking when he comes into the hotel to play poker sometimes. He doesn't think I hear, but I do. He drinks too much liquor and then lets his tongue loose.”
Grateful that Jon was speaking in my native tongue, I felt confident in asking a fateful question: “Does Jack want to kill Joshua?”
Jon nodded his head. “Veronica Cooper knows that Joshua will never marry her kind. She wants Mr. and Mrs. Garner's ranch and money. The only way that can happen is if Joshua dies. But please, don't think ill of Mr. Copper. Mr. Cooper is a fine man who is a very close friend to Joshua and his family. But,” Jon closed his eyes, “he is a father and all fathers will do anything to protect their daughters.”
“What can I do?” I begged Jon. “Please, tell me what I can do to save Joshua.”
“It may be too late,” Jon said in a miserable voice. “Tomorrow we may be having a funeral.”
“No,” I exclaimed and grabbed Jon's hand. “Please, there must be a way.”
Jon listened to the rain fall outside. “I will send the Sheriff over to the Cattlemen building and have him wait for you to talk with Veronica.”
“She doesn't speak my language,” I told Jon in a desperate voice.
Jon patted my hand. “Make her speak your language,” he told me and stood up.
“What about Joshua?” I nearly cried. “I must save him.”
“He is in God's Hands,” Jon told me. “Tonight, God will choose who will be the victor and who will sleep in the grave. Now, you must hurry. I will go get the Sheriff.”
I slowly stood up on trembling legs. Jon pointed to the dining room door. I nodded my head and walked out into the rainy night. As I did, thunder exploded over my head and shook the earth.
<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>
The door to the Cattlemen building was unlocked. I eased open the door, drenched right down to my skin from the rain, and stepped into a small, dark front office. A second door was at the back of the office, and I saw a dim light flashing under the door and heard the sound of someone singing in a voice that sounded clumsy. I closed the front door, pushed out my hands, and felt my way across the small office.
“Please, Lord, be with me,” I whispered.
When my hands touched the second door I stopped. For a few seconds, I let my ears soak in the sound of the heavy falling rain. Somewhere out in the rain, Joshua was either dead or alive. “Please, Lord Jesus,” I begged and drew in a deep breath that smelled of dust and hay. With shaky hands, I reached down and slowly opened the door and stepped into a large meeting room decorated with a long wooden table surrounded by wooden chairs sitting on a glossy hardwood floor. Fancy paintings covered walls lined with overcrowded bookshelves.
Veronica was sitting at the head of the long table with her back to a large, stained glass, oval window. She had a bottle of whiskey in her right hand. When our eyes met she quit singing and shot to her feet; nearly falling down onto the floor as she did. “What are you doing here?” she yelled.
I closed the door and pressed my back against it. “Where is Joshua?” I demanded in my native tongue. My tone was angry and harsh. I was scared but I also knew I had to be very brave if I was going to save Joshua.
“What?” Veronica asked and slammed the whiskey bottle down onto the table. The bottle was half empty and it was clear to me that Veronica was drunk. A loud hiccup escaped her lips. “Speak normal!” she yelled at me.
I left the door and walked toward the table.
“Oh, so you want to fight, is that it?” Veronica yelled at me and left her position. She charged at me on drunken legs. “I've been wanting to do away with you from the first moment I saw you!”
I watched Veronica run at me with her hands bawled into two fists and her eyes as angry as a raging bull. What was I supposed to do, I wondered? I had never been in a physical confrontation with a woman before. Women were meant to be lady-like and have manners, not tear each other's hair out. Before I knew what was happening, Veronica tackled me down onto the floor and began swinging wildly at me. I grabbed both of her wrists with my hands and managed to hold back her blows. “I'm going to kill you!” Veronica hissed in my face with sour whiskey breath.
What happened next I knew was a miracle. My tongue loosened and I somehow began speaking in English. It was if an Angel from God had touched my tongue with merciful fingers. “Where is Joshua?” I asked, holding Veronica back.
“Dead,” Veronica snapped at me like a vicious snake as she struggled to break free of me. “Jack and I hatched a plan to finally do away with that lame horse!”
I let go of Veronica and pushed her off me. Veronica stumbled backward and landed on a wooden chair. I stood up. “What have you done?”
Veronica struggled to her feet and began laughing at me. “Jack needed to get Joshua alone. I was his excuse,” she laughed. “It was so simple. He’s too nice for his own good.”
“Where is Joshua?” I yelled at Veronica again.
“Jack took him out to the old mine,” Veronica continued to laugh and then let out a second hiccup. “He's going to shoot Joshua and drop his body down the old mine shaft,” Veronica laughed and then narrowed her eyes at me as the whiskey began to change her mood again. “And I'm going to do the same to you!” she threatened me.
“You're going to prison,” I promised Veronica.
“We'll see,” Veronica snapped and ran at me. I waited. When Veronica reached me, I struck her in the face with my right fist as hard as I possibly could. Veronica stumbled backward, crashed down over the wooden chairs, and tumbled down onto the floor just as a man wearing a Sheriff's badge stepped into the room with Jon at his side.
“We heard everything,” Jon assured me and pointed to the Sheriff. “This is Sheriff Wills. He'll take care of Veronica.”
I looked at Sheriff Wills as tears began flooding from my eyes. The Sheriff was tall, old, and had a face that was rough but full of compassion. “Joshua,” I said to him.
“What did she say?” Sheriff Wills asked Jon.
My tongue had converted back to my native language. “Joshua is in danger, please, tell him,” I begged Jon and pointed at the Sheriff.
Jon reached out and grabbed my hand. “The mine is very far away,” he told me. “The Sheriff will send out some men as soon as he arrests Veronica. All we can do is wait, Maria. Now come back to the hotel with me. I'll have Mrs. Finner make us some tea.”
I let my eyes fall on Veronica who lay unconscious. She wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again. I just hoped that the Sheriff got to Joshua in time.
“Come with me,” Jon said and walked me back across the rainy street to the hotel and settled me down for a very long night. For many hours, I sat in the dining room and listened to the rain fall and thunder roar, praying without ceasing. Surely, I knew in my heart with absolute faith, God heard the prayers of His children. I was interceding on Joshua's behalf and God would hear my prayers.
When the light of morning broke, the rain seemed to begin falling even harder. A dark, gray light filled the morning, casting a gloom in my heart. Jon walked into the dining room, saw me sitting alone, and sat down at my table. “The Sheriff's men have returned. They have a body.”
“No,” I began crying, “It can't be.”
“I didn't see who it was,” Jon told me. He reached over the table and put his hand on my trembling shoulder. “The body could belong to Jack.”
“I must see the body,” I cried and stood up. My heart was breaking into a million little pieces. Why would God lead me here and show me the man I was to give my life to, only to take him away so cruelly? I wiped at my tears and began walking out of the dining room when Joshua suddenly appeared before my eyes. He was wet and covered with mud. His face was beaten and bruised. “Joshua!” I cried and ran into his arms.
Joshua wrapped his arms around me and held me tigh
t. “Hey, it's okay. It's all over now,” he told me and began rubbing the back of my hair. Somehow, I understood his every word in my heart rather than my ears. “Strangest thing,” he told me and closed his eyes, “on my way back to town this morning I realized that I wanted to marry you. You might think I'm mighty crazy for saying that because we've just met and all.”
“What happened?” Jon asked Joshua.
“Jack led me out to the old mine and tried to shoot me. I managed to get away and hide in the tunnels. Jack came in after me,” Joshua explained, letting go of me and looked into my tear-filled eyes. “God was sure on my side last night. Jack kept firing his gun at me until he ran out of bullets and then we went fist to fist. Jack sure can fight and he was getting the best of me when...well, it's hard to explain.”
“Try,” Jon told Joshua.
“The mine began caving in,” Joshua told Jon and took my hand into his own. “I managed to get out, Jack didn't. It took me a while to dig out his body.” Joshua looked deeply into my eyes. “Your voice, Maria, I heard your voice. You told me to run out of the mine. I just did make it out, too.”
I began to speak but Joshua leaned forward and gently kissed my lips. “I know you can't understand a word I'm saying,” He whispered in my ear, “but that's okay. I know our hearts understand each other.”
“I understand,” I told Joshua and then looked at him with wide eyes. I was speaking English again. “Oh, Joshua, I do understand. I love you.”
“How?” Joshua asked me, shocked that I was speaking in his tongue.
I took Joshua's hand and placed it on my heart. “Because God brought me to you,” I smiled as tears of joy dropped from my eyes. Jon smiled and walked out of the dining room. “Please,” I begged Joshua, “hold me.”
Joshua wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. “Well I'll be,” he said and then leaned his forehead against mine, “you can understand me.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my head against Joshua's chest. “The heart always understands,” I told Joshua and smiled through my tears.
The day before Mr. and Mrs. Garner returned home, Joshua walked me into the large barn and showed me the foal. The horse was standing up on her own and eating hay. A red ribbon was tied around her slender neck. “Silver Lining belongs to you now,” Joshua promised me.
“Me?” I asked holding Joshua's hand. I looked at the small animal and felt a wonderful love enter my heart.
Joshua let go of my hand, softly kissed me, and opened the door to the stall. “Go on in and say hello,” he told me.
“Should I?” I asked scared.
“Go on,” Joshua smiled at promised me that Silver Lining would love me just as much as he did.
With nervous legs, I stepped into the stall. The foal looked at me with curious eyes and then, to my happiness, walked over to me and rubbed her head against my right hand. “What should I do?” I begged Joshua.
“Be her new mother,” Joshua laughed. “Let her know that you love her.”
I raised a nervous hand and began petting the horse’s soft mane. The foal lovingly pressed her body against me. “Oh, baby,” I whispered, “I promise to love you forever. I will never hurt you and always hold you when you're scared. I will hold you in my heart for all of eternity.” I stopped talking and looked at Joshua, who was smiling at me His eyes told me that the promises I had spoken to the foal were the same promises his heart was making to me. “Forever.”
“Forever,” Joshua promised and walked into the stall with me. Outside a bright sun moved out from behind a cloud and cast a brilliant light onto a beautiful new land filled with a new life that was given by the mercy of God.
THE END
Margaret’s New Beginning
1.
Meg bit her lip. The ground was sheeted with ice and her thin shawl was not nearly warm enough to keep her from shivering, making walking all the more treacherous. Her aunt glanced over at her, a thoughtful look on her face.
“Sorry dearest Margaret, I should’ve realized my brother would have forgotten all about how much colder it is here, than down in Baton Rouge.” Margaret smiled painfully, through her quickly bluing lips.
“Mother made me double up, and Father sent more than enough money for all new clothes, Aunt Bea. We tried, but couldn’t get warm fabric in time to have them made before I left. I’ll be fine for a few more minutes.”
Beatrice sighed heavily, but nodded. It had been a spur of the moment idea to bring Margaret up to Connecticut for the winter social season. But, when she and Meg’s cousin, Alma, had made their annual Spring visit, it had struck them both how lovely Margaret had become, and how mature she was for her age. It seemed to make sense to them both, to introduce her to a life outside of the bayou folk and plantation owners that seemed to be her only marriage pool. After all, Meg was Alma’s favorite cousin. She often teased her parents, gently, that the girl should have been her sister, not her cousin. But, although Dewey was a constant thorn in his sister’s side, Beatrice knew she would never wish her older brother gone.
The older woman sighed again. Dewey had finally left home to make his own fortune, and Alma needed someone around. Meg was such enjoyable company, and so in need of experience off her father’s plantation, that Bea had jumped at the excuse to finally bring her north to see more of the world. She took her own shawl off and wrapped it around Meg’s thin shoulders, rubbing the girl’s arms to warm her.
“I am sure your father had good intentions, but it has obviously been far too long since he has been here, if he thought even a short wait for a cab was acceptable in that thin cotton. Don’t you worry about me,” She cut her niece off when she tried to argue. “One of us is wearing wool under her dress, and a wool dress, and a wool jacket. This nice warm wool shawl was just to keep these old joints moving well.” She raised a hand to her husband, who was leaning out of a cab door a few steps away. He jumped down and helped the cab driver lift the trunk into the baggage sling, and the ladies climbed inside to wait in the warm space with Alma.
“I am so glad to see you!” Margaret stuttered through her chattering teeth. Her jaw ached from clenching it tight, and now that she was getting warm, it seemed her teeth only wanted to clack together even more. Alma chuckled sympathetically and patted her hand.
“Oh, poor, sweet Meg. This is your very first winter, isn’t it?” Meg nodded, or at least tried to, if they could see it for the shivering she did not know.
“Father said he had left the north for a reason, and no one or nothing would get him to come back. I finally realized what he was talking about.” Uncle Daschle heard the last as he climbed into the cab. He sat next to his wife and rubbed his gloved hands together.
“Yes, your father has informed us on many an occasion, that he will be burying us in his family plot in Baton Rouge.” He laughed. “Apparently, he wanted to turn you into an icicle for the ride home.” Meg giggled. Her teeth had finally decided they could stand still, and she was quite comfortable now, except for the burnt feeling on the tops of her thighs as they warmed up. She scrubbed her hands over her skirt to rub out the chill, and peered out the window at the buildings as they passed. The architecture was different here, and the frosted windows and snowy rooftops lent the city an air of mystery to her view. The roads, however, were full of dirty, grey snow and the sidewalks covered in a low sheen she’d already learned, the hard way, meant they were slick with ice. She was grateful her aunt had caught her by the arm before she’d bruised her backside.
Alma pulled the curtain away from the window a little on her side of the carriage and poked Meg. She pointed at a beautiful tall brownstone rising up in the dusk, right behind a flickering gas streetlamp.
“That’s home, Meg-dear. I can’t wait for you to see your room and get unpacked. We’ll get a fire going and Liza will make us tea, and we’ll get you warm in no time.” The older girl squeezed Margaret’s hand and grinned. “And I requested roast beef and Yorkshire puddings for your first supper in Hartford.”
Meg squeezed back and answered Alma’s smile with one of her own. It was terribly exciting to be in such a strange new place, even if her first experience with snow had been a little more like her father’s stories than she had hoped.
While the men handled the trunk and her bags, Meg’s aunt and cousin ushered her quickly into the house and up the stairs to warm her up and change her clothes. Liza, the housekeeper, made chiding noises at her cold fingers and promptly told the kitchen girl to put the tea on. Liza’s husband, Charles, brought extra wood into Meg’s room and stoked up the fire that was already burning.
Meg turned down a bath to help her warm up, insisting she was too excited to put off a tour of her cousin’s home one more minute. Aunt Bea reminded the girls to meet her in the parlor for tea in a few minutes, and Alma pulled Meg out of the room by the hand.
Alma’s room was exactly as Meg imagined it, messy, a scholar’s room, tall four post bed a writer’s desk, table by the fire and a comfortable chair, with books on every available surface and even piled on the floor. There was a large quilt folded on the rug by the fire, just out of range of sparks, and another pile of books on the corner of that. Alma’s love of books was one of the best things she and Meg had in common. Alma’s parents let her read books that Meg’s father would never allow in the house, so their summer visits had always held the promise of D.H. Lawrence, or Jules Verne snuck into her bedroom in one of Alma’s suitcases.
The realization struck Margaret like a gong. She could read anything and everything until Spring, and her return to Baton Rouge. The thought thrilled her, raising gooseflesh on her arms and the color to her cheeks.
“Oh Meg, my love, you have rose in your cheeks again!” Her cousin exclaimed. “You must be feeling better!” Margaret nodded and asked if there were any books she could borrow from Alma while she was in Hartford. “Well, all of them, darling, of course. Oh! I just remembered, I have a new D.H. Lawrence for you to read, ‘Women in Love’. I promise, it’s utterly sinful.” Meg laughed.
