Glory

by Lori Copeland

  He felt a tug on his heart. It was easy to like her. She was natural, honest, and too open for her own good. She used none of the feminine wiles that he’d seen in others. She could be stubborn, even confrontational, but there wasn’t a calculating bone in her body. Not like his mother. Now there was a woman who could use and abuse others to suit her own selfish purposes. Amelia Montgomery could manipulate practically anyone into anything until she grew tired of the game.

  Glory was nothing like his mother. Still, he kept his distance. The last thing he needed was to get involved with the orphan. He might be just a wagon master, but it was the life he’d chosen. Not a job he planned to do forever, but for now it suited him. He was taking care of people who would be otherwise helpless, and he liked his job. No commitments, no woman to run his life or run him off when she tired of him.

  He watched Glory rub down the mare and decided she wasn’t helpless in the wilds or anywhere else for that matter, but there were people who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of a woman alone on the frontier. Ten years stretched between this girl and him, years that represented a world of experience. And yet there was something about her that drew him out of his shell. She could make him laugh or make him want to tear out his hair—and sometimes both at the same time.

  Technically she wasn’t a mail-order bride, and she swore she didn’t want to be. But she’d have no choice in the matter. She had youth and natural beauty. Once Wyatt saw her, Jackson had no doubt he would want to arrange a suitable marriage for her. The prospect bothered him the few times he let himself think about it. He was trying to make sure that she learned the skills she would need as a wife. Her reading and writing were coming along faster than he’d anticipated; her domestic skills needed improvement, but then she’d had no role models until she’d joined the girls on this trip. He hoped her future husband would appreciate her spirit and not try to break it. She was a special woman, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her being mistreated.

  Glory stepped onto the porch and dropped down on the bench beside him. Looking up at him in that trusting way of hers, she grinned. “Heard anything about Mary?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet.” He was close enough to overhear the doctor’s easy voice inside but unable to make out his words.

  The door opened, and the doctor motioned to Jackson, who rose to join him. Glory hopped up and started to follow, but the doctor closed the door, effectively shutting her out.

  The day dragged on. Jackson took turns with the girls sitting with Mary, holding her hand, encouraging her to take small sips of soup the woman from the café sent over. Folks here in Dodge City were a good sight friendlier than those in Squatter’s Bend, Glory decided.

  She sat on the doctor’s porch, hands on her chin, staring at the activity going on around her. Across the street a man and a youth loaded grain into the back of a wagon. Two women standing in front of the millinery chatted between themselves, admiring the display of colorful bonnets.

  Farther down the street, music drifted from an establishment with wildly swinging doors; Glory figured the business was another one of those places with painted women and boisterous men, who drank until they had to be carried out by their arms and legs.

  Her eyes caught sight of a striking young couple coming out of the general store. The woman had long, dark hair that fell to her waist; the man couldn’t take his eyes off her. She laughed, smiling up at him as he carried her bundles and beamed like a besotted fool.

  Sighing, Glory watched as the couple crossed the street and walked down the plank sidewalk toward her. Would a man ever smile at her that way, wear his heart in his eyes for the whole world to see? She’d told the others she didn’t want a man in her life, but she supposed that wasn’t exactly true. She didn’t want just any man, but if Jackson were to decide—

  She caught her wayward thoughts and dismissed them immediately. Wasn’t likely Jackson would ever smile at her the way the tall, dark-haired gentleman was smiling at his lady.

  The couple drew closer, and Glory could hear the two sharing another laugh. Drawing her legs back so they could pass, she smiled.

  The gentleman returned the greeting, tipping his hat politely. “Good afternoon.”

  Glory’s smile widened. “Afternoon, sir.” Her eyes fixed on the beautiful lady, and Glory realized that she was not much older than she. The young woman wore a gown of lavender blue and a matching hat, and her violet-colored eyes resembled pools of cool, deep water. She slowed when she saw Glory. “Hello,” she said. “Isn’t it a perfectly lovely day!”

  Glory thought it would be lovelier if Mary were better, but she nodded. “Yesterday was cooler.”

  The couple exchanged a personal look, and the woman giggled, color dotting her pretty features. Glory didn’t know what was so funny about her innocent observation, but the man and woman found it amusing. Squeezing the gentleman’s arm, the woman extended her hand to Glory, beaming. “Please excuse us; we’re newly married.”

  “Oh!” Glory jumped to her feet, admiring the handsome gold band on the third finger of the woman’s left hand. “It’s very pretty.”

  Still laughing, the woman held her hand in front of her, staring for what Glory suspected wasn’t the first time at the symbol of her husband’s love. The couple exchanged another look, and Glory realized they’d sooner be alone than chatting with a stranger.

  The man recovered first, clasping the woman’s hand tightly. “Forgive our giddiness. We’ve been married less than a month.” He lifted his wife’s hand and lightly kissed it. “We’re Dan and Hope Sullivan.”

  The couple locked gazes with each other, and Glory envied the adoration she saw in their eyes.

  Mrs. Sullivan turned and looked at Glory. “My husband’s work has brought him to this area, but when it’s finished, we’ll be on our way home—well, not home, but to Michigan to visit my aunt. Hopefully, my two sisters, Faith and June, will be there with their new husbands, and we can have a family reunion before Dan and I begin our new life in Virginia.”

  Hope then told Glory about her sisters and Aunt Thalia in Michigan, and how her name had been Kallahan until a few weeks ago. Before Glory knew it, she was telling the Sullivans about Mary’s asthma and about Jackson Lincoln, how he was taking five women to Denver City to be mail-order brides. But not her, she insisted.

  “Mail-order brides?” Hope exclaimed. Both she and the man seemed to find that quite humorous. They laughed, and Dan leaned over to steal a brief kiss from his wife.

  “Not me,” Glory reiterated. “I’ve paid my own way, so I don’t have to marry. Only Patience, Ruth, Lily, Harper, and Mary.” She turned to look at the doctor’s closed door. If Mary doesn’t die.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Mary to death. It wasn’t fair. Death had worn out its welcome with her. Mary was young and alive, looking forward to the day when she would have a husband.

  Please, God, please spare Mary’s life. The prayer came so naturally she didn’t realize she’d thought it.

  Hope leaned closer to Glory, smiling conspiratorially. “My sisters and I were mail-order brides. We were all supposed to be, but Parker Sentell came along and June fell in love. Then Dan happened along for me. Only Faith married her intended, Nicholas Shepherd, and—well, it’s a very long, very complicated story. But I’m happy for your friends, and I’m so sorry about Mary’s illness. Is there anything Dan or I can do to help you?”

  Glory shook her head, aware of how her appearance contrasted with Hope’s. Glory was wearing trail-worn pants and a shirt, and her hair was stuffed under a wide-brimmed hat. The lovely Mrs. Sullivan was all sweet smelling and looking pretty as a sunrise. The comparison only served to remind Glory why Jackson would never look at her the way Dan Sullivan looked at Hope.

  “The doctor is with Mary now. We’re taking turns sitting with her. Nothing much anyone can do but wait, but thank you for offering. You’re very nice.”

  The young woman took her hand, and Glory saw so much
warmth and caring in her eyes that she felt as if she’d made a new friend. “I’ll ask God to watch over her,” Hope volunteered.

  “Thank you,” Glory murmured. “I’d be much obliged. And … could you ask him to help Jackson, too? He’s worried about reaching Denver City; he’s especially concerned about getting to the Arkansas and Platte Rivers’ divide before the first snow. Seems like it’s one delay after the other, and now there’s Mary’s sickness …”

  “Of course I’ll pray for your friends. And don’t worry—” the young woman squeezed her hand—“when all looks the darkest, God works his greatest miracles if you have faith.”

  Glory watched the young couple continue down the walk, Dan Sullivan’s arm protectively shielding his wife’s small frame. She watched until they disappeared into the hotel. The scent of Hope Sullivan’s perfume lingered, as sweet as the words she’d spoken. No wonder Dan Sullivan had such love in his eyes. If Glory didn’t know better, she’d think she’d just met an angel.

  The other girls joined Glory on the bench, and they sat quietly, lost in their thoughts, waiting for the door to open again. It seemed that hours went by. Glory grew restless and left the bench to thread her way between the mules tied behind the wagon.

  Her thoughts were taking her places she didn’t want to go. She sat on the back of the wagon, stroking Jackson’s mare between the eyes. Jealous thoughts spiraled through her. For the brief instant that she’d stood outside the doctor’s office, Glory had seen the look of relief in Ruth’s eyes when she’d seen Jackson entering. The bond between them was obvious. They treated each other like trusted equals. Glory couldn’t help but believe there was tenderness between them; oh, Jackson didn’t look at Ruth the way Dan Sullivan had looked at his ladylove, but he still looked at Ruth kindly. Glory cared for both Ruth and Jackson and hated these angry feelings that threatened to overtake her. She reached for Jackson’s Bible and held it tightly between her hands, hoping that the anger and hurt would go away.

  “Glory! Glory!” Glory glanced up to see Lily rounding the wagon, looking up at her curiously. “Can’t you hear me? Mary is asking for us, wants you to bring Jackson’s Bible with you.”

  Glory scrambled down and rushed toward the doctor’s office, the Bible tucked under her arm. She filed in after the others. Her eyes fell upon Mary’s face as she entered. She’d never seen her friend look so pale; her face blended into the white pillowcase. Jackson and Ruth were on the other side of Mary’s bed.

  The doctor turned to pour water into a basin, where he began to wash his hands. The room was steamy, the air heavy with the fragrance of eucalyptus and other oils she couldn’t identify.

  Mary’s eyelids were heavy and her face damp, but her coughing had eased. Her breathing was raspy, yet she seemed stronger. “Please,” she whispered, looking directly at Glory, “the Twenty-third Psalm, my favorite.”

  Glory fumbled with the Bible nervously, but Harper tugged her elbow and turned the book to the correct page. Mary’s gaze remained steadfastly on Glory. With a nod, she made it clear she wanted Glory to read to her.

  “Uh,” Glory said uncertainly. She glanced at Ruth.

  Ruth nodded. “Go on. I’ll help if you need me.”

  Nodding, Glory began haltingly. “‘The Lord is my shepherd… .’” The words were slow and awkward as she read, glancing from time to time at Mary’s face. The girl’s wan smile gave Glory courage, and she continued.

  The room was silent except for her tentative words and Mary’s audible breathing. Surprisingly, Glory read to the end of the lyrical passage with minimal errors. “‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.’”

  Glory glanced up to see Ruth and Jackson, standing side by side, watching her with pride shining in their eyes. Glory swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, and she felt her tension ease. At that moment, she felt jealousy and anger leave her heart, replaced with a sense of peace.

  When she closed the Bible, Mary smiled her thanks, and Glory took her hand and squeezed it gently.

  “You did a good job, Glory,” Jackson said quietly. “You’ve studied well.” He looked around the solemn group. “The doctor wants to keep Mary overnight for another vapor treatment. He says if she has a good night, she can continue with us tomorrow, provided we keep up with her daily treatments and a liquid diet for a few days. Ruth has agreed to spend the night here to look after Mary’s needs. We’ll make camp at the edge of town.”

  The girls sighed with relief and expressed hushed words of gratitude to the doctor as he brushed past them. “I’m headed upstairs for a light supper,” he stated at the stairway. “I’ll be back down to treat her in an hour.” Looking exhausted, he turned and left them.

  At Jackson’s nod, the girls whispered good-bye to Mary and began filing out. Glory waited till last. “Ruth, if you want your things, I’ll bring them from the wagon before we leave.”

  “Why, thank you, Glory. I’d appreciate that.”

  Glory nodded and left, glad to be able to look at her friend without the awful jealousy that she’d been feeling so much lately. She glowed in her newly found peace. She also remembered a Scripture Ruth had shared about how God sent his Word and healed them. She was so excited she could have spit. But she knew now that sort of thing was no longer an option, seein’ as how it wasn’t ladylike.

  Glory still wasn’t quite sure who God was or if he knew who she was. But she now believed he was real. She’d listened to the other girls pray, and a couple of times she’d added her own amen. But she had never asked him for anything until she’d prayed for God to heal Mary. And he’d answered! Now she wanted to pray more, but she wasn’t real sure how to go about it, since it was only her second time.

  With childlike faith, she looked up to the heavens. He sure must be a long ways up there, she reasoned. ’Cause for as far as she could see, she still couldn’t get a glimpse of him.

  As if he were hard of hearing, she leaned her head way back and yelled, “Thank you! Thank you much for what you did for my friend Mary!”

  And she meant every word with all her heart.

  Later, when she handed the personal items to Ruth, Glory smiled and teased, “Wouldn’t want you to miss your nightly scrubbing.”

  Ruth chuckled. Her face was tired, but her eyes brightened with mischief. “And I trust you won’t miss your nightly scrubbing just because I won’t be there to remind you.”

  “’Course not,” Glory responded playfully. It felt good to shed the tension between them. Over the past few weeks, Glory had found it difficult to talk to Ruth, to share her feelings with her like she had at the beginning of their trip together.

  As Glory returned to the wagon, she hoped her jealous feelings would stay away. As the wagon rumbled down the street toward the edge of town, Glory resolved to read the Twenty-third Psalm every day if that’s what it took to feel peace in her life.

  By the third day the doctor pronounced Mary well enough to travel.

  Jackson watched Patience and Glory help the ailing girl into the wagon and settle her on a pallet, wrapping a soft blanket around her skeletal frame. She’d lost weight this past week, weight she couldn’t afford to lose.

  The prairie schooner rolled out of Dodge City at daybreak, heading west. Midmorning Jackson handed the reins to Ruth and stepped into the wagon to check on Mary. The girl’s drained features were pale as death, dark circles ringing her sunken eyes.

  Harper sat beside Mary, dipping a sponge into a water bucket, bathing the young woman’s face with infinite tenderness.

  “Are you comfortable, Mary?”

  Mary’s eyes fluttered open, and she smiled wanly. “I’m fine, Mr. Lincoln—don’t mean to be a bother.”

  Jackson patted the frail, white hand lying limp on top of the blanket. “You’re no trouble, Mary. Let me know if you need anything.” He met Harper’s eyes. “Get her to drink often and as much as she can.”

  Harper nodded, rewetting the sponge as Jackson stepped to the bac
k of the wagon and parted the canvas. His eyes skimmed the thick underbrush for signs of trouble. Glory chose to walk in front of the wagon this morning, chatting with Lily and Patience. His rifle was tucked under her arm out of habit. Lately, she was careful to point out game birds and remind him a squirrel, quail, or pheasant would taste good, but she let him provide the meat for their table.

  Jackson’s biggest concern at the moment was that one of the girls would wander out of sight. Should he remind them that Amos might be following and they were to stay close? He weighed the possibilities. If he did, Ruth would be scared, and then Patience would sit up all night stewing if she knew Glory’s uncle was close by.

  Jackson could deal with Amos if he could see him. It was the long stretches of road when he couldn’t that kept him awake nights. An ambush worried him; so did the possibility that Amos could kidnap a girl if she wandered out of sight. Despite his concerns, Jackson decided to keep quiet and see what the day brought.

  Stepping down from the wagon, he mounted the saddled mare tied to the back. Loosening the reins, he cantered the horse alongside the wagon. “Ruth, I want you to keep the other girls close. No one walks more than a few feet from the wagon!”

  Ruth nodded, urging the team along the rutted trail. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Up the road a piece. I’ll be back shortly.” Whirling the horse, he galloped off, tipping his hat to Glory, Patience, and Lily as he rode past.

  Patience frowned. “Wonder where he’s off to in such a hurry?”

  Glory watched his tall form disappear down the road. “Don’t know, but I wish I was going with him.”

  Late that afternoon, Glory ventured farther down the trail. The road was washed out, and Ruth was busy concentrating on maneuvering the wagon through the rutted channels. Jackson was out of sight and couldn’t help. The oxen balked, their heavy bodies straining to pull the load. The old wagon rocked back and forth, rattling pots and pans and banging the tin washtub against its side.