by Duane Boehm
“So that war that you and your father were so hell–bent to join is the reason,” she said with anger rising in her voice with each word.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Gideon said.
“Of course not. Like you said, it does not matter anymore. I’m sorry I bothered you. This was a huge mistake. I should have let sleeping dogs lie,” she said as she stood.
“Goodbye, Abby.”
“I hope you find some peace someday, Gideon,” Abby said as she left the room.
Chapter 6
Abby’s ride home did little to soothe her fury or hurt. The horse’s trot felt like a substitute for a good shaking by her mother for being a foolish child, and she cursed herself for acting like a silly schoolgirl running off to see her old beau. The notion now appeared unfathomable that it had ever seemed like a good idea. The thought of Gideon making a joke about her giving herself to him made her start to cry. What had been one of the most monumental moments in her life must have meant no more to him than one of the numerous whores that she was sure he had slept with over the years. She wiped her eyes and willed herself to calm down before heading down the road leading to her house.
She led her mare into the barn and found her husband, Marcus, working at repairing some tack.
“Where have you been off too?” Marcus asked.
His question hit her wrong as if he were being suspicious. “I just went for a ride. It’s such a beautiful day. There is no crime in that, is there?” Abby said.
“Well, no there is not. I was just making conversation. What has gotten you all fired up?”
“I don’t ask you where you ride off to and I don’t appreciate you questioning me,” she said as she pulled the saddle from her horse. She brushed the mare down and put her in her stall without either of them speaking another word.
Abigail walked out to the orchard. The trees would be blooming soon and she liked to keep watch over them. She did her best thinking out here. With Gideon’s return, so many things had bubbled to the surface that she needed time for reflection.
She wondered if Gideon would have been so glib about their one time together if he had known that it had produced a daughter. By the time that she had realized that she was with child, Gideon was gone to war, and when she broke the news to her parents, they were mortified beyond comprehension. They refused to let her write Gideon to let him know, going so far as to threaten to disown her if he learned of the baby. None of their other children had been wed with a child on the way and she would not be the first. Looking back, she knew that not writing Gideon had been a terrible mistake. In her heart, she knew that he would have come back and married her. She was just as guilty as Gideon was for the turn their lives had taken.
Abby’s mother had a younger sister named Rita that lived in Wyoming and had never been able to bear children. Abby’s parents sent her to stay with her aunt and uncle until the child was born, telling everyone in Last Stand that Rita was bedridden with child and that Abby was going there to help out until after the child was born. She had delivered the child there. The baby was a beautiful girl with Gideon’s deep blue eyes. The couple allowed her to name the baby and she had chosen Joann Marie, figuring that would be as close to giving the child her rightful name of Johann as would ever be possible. Returning to Colorado and leaving the baby was the hardest thing that she had ever done in her life. She had cried most of the way home and barely slept or ate for months afterward. The one thing that got her through that time was knowing that Aunt Rita and Uncle Jake were thrilled to have a child and that Joann had a good home.
Nobody in Last Stand seemed to be any the wiser about what had really happened. After all these years, Marcus was still clueless Joann was Gideon’s and her daughter. There was no way possible to hide the truth in the Wyoming community and when Joann was ten, children that had heard their parents talking, started teasing her about being a bastard child, forcing her aunt to tell her the truth. The one good thing that came from the revelation was that she and Joann began writing letters. Corresponding was something that they continued to do until this day. A bond developed through the notes and Joann started spending every other summer with them. After Winnie was born, things got even better. Joann adored the child and doted on her nine year younger secret sibling.
The visits from Joann always made Abby a little nervous. Joann had come last summer when she was sixteen. If anybody had taken one look at her blue eyes and thought about it, they would have known that Gideon was the daddy. They were the only two people that she had ever known with such a deep blue color, but Marcus and everybody else seemed oblivious to it. Marcus was even very attached to Joann, something that Abby found amusing, knowing his dislike for anything to do with Gideon.
In her last letter to Joann, written a day after she learned of Gideon’s return, she had not mentioned him, deciding to wait until she knew whether he would live or die. After her conversation with Gideon today, Abby did not see any way that good could come from Joann knowing of him coming back no matter how much the girl was curious about her father. There was no way that she could bring herself to tell Gideon that he had a daughter either. She had come to the conclusion that he was too troubled of a man to add anything else to his conscience. Some things were best left unsaid.
Abby started reminiscing about all the years that she had spent waiting for Gideon. Her family and friends had finally pushed her into realizing that she had to go on with her life. After she started seeing Marcus, she had thought that she was madly in love with him. In most every way he was the opposite of Gideon – quiet, serious, and lacking an impulsive bone in his body. All traits that seemed like a good thing at the time. It was not until they were wed that she realized that their courtship had been a rebound romance and that she had been more lonely than in love. Still, their marriage was not a bad one. Their union was certainly better than many couples that she knew, but it lacked the passion and playfulness that she saw in Ethan and Sarah, and she longed for that.
And without Marcus as her husband, there would be no Winnie, and she could not imagine life without her. She would not change a thing about her daughter. When she was pregnant, she secretly feared that the child would be as dull as its father, but that had proven not to be the case. Winnie was full of spit and fire. She reminded Abby a lot of herself as a child with maybe even more willfulness than even she had possessed. Winnie would probably prove to be a handful when she got older, but nobody was going to walk all over her.
Winnie hollered from the back door, “Hey Momma, what are you doing out in the orchard?”
Abby looked over to see her daughter grinning at her, and immediately felt better. “I’m just looking at the trees. Come out here and join me,” she called out.
In a blur of skirt flying and legs and arms churning, Winnie dashed to her mother. Taking a couple of big breaths, Winnie said, “What are you looking for?”
“I just like to come out here and look at the trees. I find it very peaceful,” Abby said.
Taken a tone of great importance, Winnie said, “You are not going to believe what happened to me today.”
“Well, tell me then.”
“When we were walking home from school, I was not looking, and Benjamin Oakes kissed me on the cheek and I slapped his face.”
“Winnie,” Abigail admonished.
“Well, he has no business kissing me. He can keep his lips to himself,” Winnie said.
“A little kiss on the cheek is certainly not a crime. He just likes you and one of these days you might want him to kiss you and then he might be gun–shy from you hitting him,” Abby reasoned.
“Now why would I ever want Benjamin Oakes kissing on me? I ain’t ever going to marry some silly boy. I’m going to live with you forever,” Winnie stated.
“We will see, my dear. We will see,” Abby said as they started walking towards their home.
Chapter 7
“Ethan! Ethan, you need to get me a crutch or a cane and my c
hange of clothes. I am ready to get up and move. I’ve had all of this bed that I can take,” Gideon bellowed out from the bedroom.
The family had given Gideon a wide berth that day since Abigail’s visit. She had appeared to be upset with whatever had transpired in her reunion with Gideon and they were not anxious to find out his point of view on the subject. Ethan had finished writing his sermon and making the crutch while Sarah had busied herself with laundry.
Ethan had spent an hour in the woods looking for a tree branch long enough and with a side branch on it that could be sawed down to serve as a handgrip. He had then whittled a top for it that he bored a hole in to fit onto the branch. “I just made this today,” he said, hoisting the crutch for Gideon to see as he entered the bedroom.
“Thank God. I want to be a moving target if Abby comes back. I thought that she was going to pull a Derringer out and blast me. Only a woman could stay mad for eighteen years,” Gideon said.
“She has every right to shoot you,” Ethan said with a smirk.
“That may well be, but I’m sporting enough leaks at the moment. I’d prefer not to add to the collection. Did you know that she was coming, by the way?” Gideon said as he attempted to wrangle into his clothes.
Sheepishly, Ethan examined the crutch, rubbing his hand along the grain. “Uh, not really. She came and saw you while you were unconscious, but I didn’t know that she was coming back.”
“What?” Gideon shouted – his voice unusually high pitched. “You mean that she had been here before and you never thought that it was something that I needed to know?”
“I guess it just never came up.”
“Well, I would think a married woman checking in on her old boyfriend would be news worthy. It sure would have been to me,” Gideon said as wiggled into his trousers.
“I take it that it did not go well.”
“No, not really. You would think a married woman with a child would be past all that. That’s a long time to stay mad,” Gideon remarked.
“Gideon, you just don’t understand how it felt from this side of the fence. There was never any closure with you. Your disappearance was an open wound that never healed. I felt the same way. Still do. There are times when I just want to punch you in the face for at least not writing us a letter,” Ethan said.
Gideon sat silently, rubbing the scar on his cheek. “Let’s see if I can walk,” he finally said.
He stood using his good leg and the crutch for balance. Swaying like a pine tree in a wind storm, Ethan moved closer to catch him if necessary, but Gideon managed to stay upright, sucking in air as if he thought he was deflating.
“Oh, I’m light–headed,” Gideon said.
“I would imagine you are still short a pint or two of blood.”
Gideon made his first awkward steps toward the door. He face was set in determination and betrayed pain every time he put his weight on the crutch, but he seemed to limber up with each step. By the time he got to the front of the cabin, he was moving reasonably well.
“How does it feel?” Ethan asked as he stood by Gideon’s side in case he still toppled.
“The leg is working better than I feared it would. The crutch makes my shoulder hurt like all get out, but it beats the hell out of lying in bed.”
“Do you want to go outside or do you need to sit?” Ethan asked.
“She sure is pretty these days, isn’t she?” Gideon said.
“Who, Abby?” Ethan asked, trying to follow the conversation.
“Yes, Abby. I would have thought that being married to Marcus, she would have shriveled up just from the boredom,” Gideon said with a grin.
“At least some things never change,” Ethan said as he followed Gideon out the door.
The day was beautiful, just warm enough to forgo a jacket. The sun felt good on Gideon face. “We had us some good times here, didn’t we?” he said as he looked around the yard. “Your ma and pa were always good to me. Are they still living?”
“Yes, we did. Pa died before Benjamin was born, but Ma moved to town. She and all the other widow ladies keep themselves busy,” Ethan answered.
“Sorry to hear Ben is gone. He was a good man. Why didn’t your ma stay here with you?” Gideon said, walking to the well and leaning against it.
“She wouldn’t hear of it. She said that she had enough of ranch life and that a young wife didn’t need a mother–in–law in the way,” Ethan said.
Gideon chuckled. “She always was a feisty thing.”
“How did you get that there scar on your cheek?” Ethan asked.
At the question, Gideon ran a finger along it. “That was how close a Reb saber came to splitting my head in two. I jerked my head back. Just ran out of room. Cutting me was the last thing that he ever did though,” Gideon replied.
“Oh,” Ethan said, sorry that he had asked. “I bought the Johnson and Fillmore homesteads when they gave up homesteading.”
“Going to be a land baron one of these days, huh?”
“Nah, just trying to accumulate some good land before all the free range is gone. There are more homesteaders every year. You know, there are a couple of areas with good land and water that nobody has claimed yet if you think that you would ever like to settle here,” Ethan said.
Gideon studied Ethan’s face, wishing that he had the goodness in him that his friend possessed. The sincerity in which Ethan had mentioned the idea of Gideon homesteading bordered on childlike naïveté. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it if not for hurting Ethan’s feelings and the fact that deep down inside it made him sad that the notion was absurd. “Thanks, Ethan, but it is way too late to settle down now.”
“Just a thought. You know you are not too old yet,” Ethan said. “When you can ride, I will show you the herd.”
“I’d like that,” Gideon said. “I think I’ll walk around a little and try to get the hang of this.”
“That sounds good. I have to ride up to the creek that feeds the pond and try to kill some beaver. They’re building a dam and I’m afraid they are going to divert the water,” Ethan said.
Gideon practiced with the crutch until Ethan was gone and then he headed to the barn. His tack was straddling a wall of one of the stalls and he reached in his saddlebag and pulled out the whiskey bottle. The first swallow tasted so good that he closed his eyes and let the warmth spread. He took one more swig and put the bottle back. His time here was the longest that he had gone without a drink in more years than he cared to remember. A twinge of guilt hit him for breaking his rule of only drinking at night unless in a saloon, but nothing had been normal lately anyway. He told himself that with bullet holes, and having to deal with being back home, that rules could be broken for a day. He reassured himself that on most evenings, he only took a couple of pulls from the bottle before going to sleep. It relaxed him enough to keep his mind from dwelling on the past and let him doze.
When he came out of the barn, Benjamin was sitting on the steps to the porch whittling a stick. He was so lost in his work that he did not hear Gideon approach.
“What’s you doing there, Benjamin?” Gideon asked.
“Mr. Gideon, you are up and walking,” Benjamin said in surprise.
“Yes, I am. All the fine care I’ve gotten around here has just about got me as good as new.”
Benjamin smiled and asked, “Do you want to whittle with me?”
“Sure. Would you mind getting me my jack–knife? I saw it sitting in your room,” Gideon said.
After Benjamin returned with the knife, Gideon asked, “Do you ever whittle anything but sticks?”
“Nah, I just do sticks,” Benjamin said.
“I’ll tell you what, if you have some pine around here for kindling, I’ll show you how to make a little boat. Once you get the hang of it, we’ll make us some bigger ones and then take them to the pond and sail them,” Gideon said.
“Really? You’d do that with me?” Benjamin asked.
“Seems that’s the least I can do for so
meone that saved my life,” Gideon said. He got a kick out of watching Benjamin puff all up every time that he mentioned saving his life.
Gideon rummaged through the kindling pile until he found a piece of straight pine that was about two inches in diameter. He used Ethan’s saw to cut a four–inch long section from it, and then using the axe, he carefully split the piece in two and handed Benjamin one of them.
“Watch me now. The first thing we do is whittle a point on one end to make the bow,” Gideon instructed as he started shaving away the wood. As he worked, he kept an eye on Benjamin’s progress. The boy was concentrating so hard that Gideon doubted he would even realize if he cut off a finger.
“Good work,” Gideon said when the bow was finished. “Now shave the bark off to shape the sides and flatten the bottom.”
As they were whittling, the roar of a Winchester rifle could be heard in the distance.
“I bet there is one less beaver in the world,” Gideon remarked.
“Has he always been that way?” Benjamin asked.
Gideon looked at Benjamin, confused by the question. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“You know, always going after beavers,” Benjamin answered.
Gideon burst out laughing. “I don’t know. Let me think. You know, when we were kids, a beaver chased him one time,” he said between bouts of giggles.
“I knew it.”
“You’re a pretty sharp young man to figure that all out,” Gideon said.
Benjamin smiled back at Gideon and then started whittling again. When they both had the outside of their boats shaped, Gideon showed him how to start hollowing out the inside. They were working in silence on the most challenging part of the boat when they heard footsteps behind them.
“Benjamin, it’s time for you to get your chores done,” Sarah announced.
The boy held up his boat and said, “Momma, may I finish whittling my boat first? I’m just about finished.”
Gideon watched Sarah’s face and could see that she was pleasantly surprised. He wanted her to like him even though he was not quite sure why. What people thought about him was not something that ever concerned him, but she and Ethan both had a way of making him not loath himself as much as usual.
