by Karen Noland
Kate found herself drawn to the barn. She pushed open the small side door, letting the lamp cast its glow ahead of her. The ever-present rodents scurried away before the sound of the intruder. A soft thud and a muffled squeal revealed the presence of the ginger tabby responsible for controlling the vermin. Breathing in the rich scents of the barn, she made her way to each stall, seeking reassurance in a familiar nuzzle or the sound of a soft nicker.
The door to the bunkhouse beckoned to her from the far side of the barn. Maybe Luke had returned after all. He could have slipped in under the cover of night. The buckskin might be grazing in the pasture even now. Her heart thudding, she approached the door. Swallowing her fear, she knocked softly upon the rough-hewn timbers. There was no answer.
“Luke?” she asked tentatively. “Luke, are you in there?”
Her query met by silence, she turned to go.
Go in.
Stopped by the insistence of the command, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. She could not go in and invade the privacy of another. Kate held the oil lamp high, to light the path that would lead her home.
Go in.
Instead of the path toward home, the glow of her lamp illumined the latch of the bunkhouse door. Without willing it, her hand reached out, almost caressing the smoothly worn peg. Her heart tripped as the latch gave and the door swung slowly inward. Shadows danced upon the walls, showing chinks in the plaster where the logs had settled. Books lay scattered upon the low table, shirts and a vest hung from hooks. Kate felt a sense of life interrupted as she gazed about the room.
An errant shutter banged against the window frame as the evening breeze blew soft across the night, startling Kate from her reverie. Her eyes were drawn to a scrap of paper peeking from beneath the washstand. Crossing the dark room, she cast her light upon the paper, revealing a handbill with the word “Revival” printed in large type across the top.
Kate set the lamp down on the table beside the bed and pulled the handbill from beneath the porcelain bowl. Scanning the paper, she recalled the women at the branding speaking of a large tent revival to be held in Guthrie in September.
Where had Luke gotten a flyer advertising the revival? She sat on the bunk, holding the paper close to the lamp. Her eyes traveled over the words in the dim light, locking on the phrase “the Reverend Daniel Josey.” Luke’s father. He was to preach at the revival. Why hadn’t he told her? Did this have anything to do with his disappearance?
Lost in thought , she jumped when the door opened. “Luke,” Kate cried, turning toward the sound of footsteps, but the features emerging from the shadows were dark, with piercing eyes that brought a scream to her lips.
***
The fiery ball sank below the western horizon, painting the azure palette with vivid hues of red and orange. The colors seemed to reflect the feverish burning within Luke’s soul. He sat on the buckskin colt holding a loose rein, letting the horse pick his path carefully along the ridge, and watching the blazing sun cast its final gory light across the deepening violet of the night sky.
Seeing Michael Hall at lunch had jolted Luke from the dream he had been experiencing the past weeks. Living in Providence, Luke had almost come to believe that God would forgive him. The image of Christ, torn and bloody, hanging on a rough wooden cross, dying to pay the debt for his sins had seemed tangible and real when he and Kate talked about it. She had begun to make him see the God of love and the forgiveness available to him, so unlike the picture of the wrathful, avenging God his father always preached. He had almost reached out and grasped the love, claiming the promise for his own. Until today. The face of the man on the porch had been vaguely familiar, raising an uneasy feeling within him. Then Kate had introduced him; his name brought the memories flooding back.
Annie and Michael were together at a barn dance the night Joe and Luke had ridden into Rush Springs the first time. Lanterns swung from the rafters, boughs of holly, pine and mistletoe adorned the posts, and an old black iron stove glowed with radiant heat in a vain attempt to keep the cold at bay. A young girl, not more than thirteen, perched precariously atop a hay bale sawing at an old fiddle, it’s rich finish glowing warmly in the flickering light. She played a lusty tune, and the dancers’ feet kept up a lively step as they whirled about in colorful profusion.
A woman with ebony hair and flashing eyes stood near the table laden with pies, cakes and a bowl brimming with cider. A small boy with the same dark locks clutched the woman’s woolen skirt in one chubby fist, the thumb of his free hand planted firmly between bow shaped lips.
“Zora!” Joe called across the crowded room. The woman turned, her face alight with joy.
“Daddy!” The cherub beside her loosed his grasp running full speed into Joe’s waiting arms and was tossed high in the air, dissolving in a fit of giggles. Catching him neatly, Joe tucked the child into the crook of one arm, and with the other, he caught Zora in a passionate embrace.
“Oh, mi amor, I have missed you,” Zora murmured against his shirt.
“And I’ve missed you!” Joe answered, kissing her raven hair. “And you, Sam! How much have you grown in the past couple of months, pardner?” Joe asked the squirming bundle, now fighting to get down.
“Me growed up,” Sam said pausing in his struggles. “Momma make me new shirt,” he said puffing out his little chest to show off the new prize.
“So I see. Quite handsome, too,” Joe said, setting the boy down. “Guess what?”
“What?” Zora and Sam asked in unison.
“I’m gonna get to watch you growed up some more, Sam.” Turning to Zora, Joe continued, “I’ve got some time off between drives. We’re plannin’ on bunking here till after the new year.”
Zora’s face was a strange mixture of joy and sorrow. Joy at having her husband home for any time at all, sorrow at the prospect of him leaving again so soon.
“Aw, c’mon, honey. You know I have to do this. It’s the only job I know.” He tilted her head up. “Let’s make the best of our time together, huh?”
“Sí, mi corazón, the very best.” Her eyes glowed, and the softly accented voice could not disguise the love she felt.
Luke watched the small family with a stab of envy. Would he ever know that kind of love? He cleared his throat, looking pointedly at Joe.
“Oh, sorry! Zora, this is Luke, he’s a buddy of mine, kind of hopin’ he could stay with us till we have to leave out.”
“Pleased to meet you ma’am,” Luke said, taking off his dusty hat.
“And I you, sir. Of course you will stay with us. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but if you have a barn or something, I’d be just as comfortable there.”
“But, no, you may sleep with Sam,” she smiled. “Our house is small, but there is always room for friends.”
The sincerity in her eyes silenced any further protest he was about to make, and he simply nodded, “Thank you, ma’am.”
The music ended, dancers erupted in applause. A tall woman with auburn hair and luminous green eyes approached them followed by a large young man in a dark suit.
“Joseph!” the woman exclaimed.
“Annie!” Joe cried embracing her.
“Luke, this is my sister I was telling you about,” Joe said turning to Luke. “Annie, I’d like you to meet Luke Josey, son of a preacher, but cowboy to the core.”
“It is indeed a pleasure, sir,” Annie said, extending a slender white hand.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Luke replied taking her hand, unable to tear his gaze from hers.
“Annie,” the young man beside her spoke possessively, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Annie replied turning reluctantly to her escort. “Joseph, this is Michael, he owns the mercantile in Kingfisher. Michael, may I introduce my brother Joseph.”
“So you’re the trail boss that Annie has told me so much about.” Michael extended his hand.
“I am,�
� Joe replied, eyeing the young man.
The fiddle began a lilting waltz. Michael grasped Annie’s arm and escorted her to the dance floor where they joined in the graceful rhythm. Luke continued to watch for glimpses of the captivating woman among the ebb and flow of the dancers until Joe grabbed his arm indicating it was time to leave.
Michael left for Kingfisher the following day, and over the course of the next few weeks Luke and Annie spent many stolen moments together. One bright December morning found them alone in the small barn behind Joe’s place. The smell of fresh hay hung in the frosty air like the clouds of their breath. Dust motes danced in the sunshine forming a golden halo around Annie’s dark hair. Luke reached out tentatively, tracing her full lips with the tip of a finger. Bending his head to hers, he kissed her, tasting for the first time the sweet nectar of forbidden fruits.
The buckskin stumbled in the gathering darkness, jolting Luke abruptly back from the past, the bittersweet memories burning within him. Glancing around the unfamiliar landscape, he realized they had wandered into unknown territory. With the approaching night, Luke decided to find what shelter he could, and face the future with the coming dawn.
***
Stifling the scream with a closed fist, Kate shuddered with relief when Tochoway stepped into the small circle of light cast by the flickering lamp. Her beating heart rang loud within her ears.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Without answering, Tochoway took the paper from her trembling hand. He eyes hardened as he glanced over the words. Placing the paper on the table, he stepped beyond the edge of light into the flickering shadows. As he stood gazing at the night through the curtained window, Kate could see the tension in his body, the dim light played against the bronzed planes of his rough-hewn face.
“Things are not well here,” he stated.
Kate shook her head, fighting the tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks.
“A man rides a pale horse upon the ridge to the south. He is searching.” Tochoway said in a low voice.
“But for what? Everything he needs is here,” Kate said in anguish.
“No. The peace he longs for can only be found in his Creator.” Tochoway turned to face her, his eyes penetrating. Kate glanced down to avoid the intense gaze.
“He will return,” Tochoway continued. “You must listen. Do not judge, that is not your place.”
“How do you know?” she asked, wanting desperately to believe. “How do you know he’ll be back - what’s in his heart?”
Tochoway was silent for a moment, his eyes set upon a distant scene that only he could fathom. In the glow of the oil lamp, Kate saw his face soften, a rare smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Her heart quickened as she gazed upon the stoic man before her. A peaceful calm began to spread its soothing warmth through her in the hushed serenity. What was it about this man that touched her innermost being? A coyote yipped in the distance, the cicadas serenaded, and Kate became acutely aware of the night around her.
“He is a man,” Tochoway said. “He will come for you, but he must find his God, and his peace, only then can he truly love you.”
Kate sighed, frowning. She plucked at a fold of her skirt, nervously wondering how best to ask the questions that buzzed through her mind. “Tochoway, you know God, don’t you? I mean genuinely know him.”
“Yes. He is here,” Tochoway placed two fingers beside his brow, “and here,” the fingers moved to hover above his heart.
“How?”
Tochoway studied her for a moment. Then as though reaching a momentous decision, he picked up the small leather bag that hung at his waist. Loosening the drawstring, he produced a worn, leather volume.
“The night grows old. I must leave now. It is safer for me to travel beneath the cloak of darkness.” Taking her hand he pressed the small book against her palm. His warm hand resting briefly against the cool flesh of her wrist, he murmured beneath his breath, “Puha.”
He was gone as quickly as he had come, melting into the shadows of the night. No sound lingered to tell of his passing. Kate shuddered as she recalled the dangers he faced traveling away from the reservation without permission.
The small volume felt unusually heavy in her hand. Glancing down, she realized that it was a New Testament. The pages fragile from use, she opened it with great care. Faded writing covered the front flyleaf. Holding the page closer to the glowing lamp, she was able to make out, “Depoy Indian Mission, Rev Jonah Walker 1876-1880, Rev Daniel Josey 1880.”
Chapter fourteen
The merciless sun hung motionless in an azure sky. Kate stood, placing a gloved hand in the small of her back as she stretched aching muscles. Sweat soaked the shirt she wore and streamed down her face and neck in salty rivulets. Leaning heavily against the handle of a razor sharp scythe, she coughed from the dust coating her parched throat. She looked behind her at the fallen grass, and ahead to the tall stalks spreading out in a green-gold sea. To the west she could see Jake urging the draft team on, pulling the hay mow, as row after row of grass lay in undulating ribbons behind them.
The areas she and Jonathan worked were too narrow or rocky for the large team and mow to cut, but the grasses here were too abundant to ignore. They worked with the scythes, swinging in rhythmic motion as they progressed slowly over the ground. Glancing at the cloudless expanse above, she said a brief prayer of thanks for the dry weather, which gave the hay ample time to cure before raking and stacking the golden harvest.
For three days they had been working in the hay pastures. Each morning she woke sore and bruised, her hands blistered and raw, even with the thick leather gloves she wore, but she was thankful for the agonizing labor, as she rarely had time to think about Luke, or wonder where he had gone and why.
Taking a deep breath, she set the scythe and began once again the long sweeping strokes that sent the blades of grass flying, separated neatly from their rooted home. The scythe whispered over the grasses as they fell and she stepped on to the next sweep, arms aching, breathing labored, sweat streaming from her brow, stinging her eyes, focusing only on the next cut, the next step.
Drawing her arm back for yet another swing a hand grasped her wrist. With a choked scream, she turned to find herself staring into a deeply tanned face with unfathomable green eyes.
“Luke!”
Without a word he took the blade from her hand, positioned it over the row and began cutting, moving away from her with every sweep. Stunned, Kate stood rooted to the ground, unable to move. She wanted to run after him, demand to know where he had been, why he had returned so abruptly.
Do not judge, it is not your place. Tochoway’s words echoed through her mind.
***
“So you’ve been to Guthrie?” Jonathan asked between bites of the hearty lunch Nana had packed.
Luke nodded, savoring the good home-cooked food.
“But why? Why did you go without saying anything?”
“Jonathan, let the man alone,” Jake said, though Luke knew that Jake was as curious as his grandson.
Luke chewed on a biscuit for a moment before answering. “There was some business I needed to mull over. Still haven’t come to grips with all of it.” He paused, looking toward the homestead, just visible in the distance. “I did find a ready market for the cattle. I’ll need to talk that over with Kate, sort of figured she didn’t want to go with Johnson this year,” he added with a wry grin.
Jake smiled ruefully, nodding in agreement. “Jonathan, go hitch the team back up, time we were after it again.”
“Yes, sir.”
Luke watched the boy stand and stretch in the patch of shade they shared beneath the lone oak. Reluctant to leave the relative coolness, Jonathan lingered over packing the remains of lunch. Smokey lay at the edge of the shade like a grey shadow, watching covertly, muzzle resting on outstretched paws, his eyes following every move Jonathan made. With nothing left to occupy him, Jonathan shot one last look at Luke before he headed off to
hitch the team.
“Well?” Jake asked as soon as Jonathan was out of ear shot.
“What?”
“Are you here to stay this time, or is this just another resting spot between your escapades?” Jake wore an ominous expression..
“I thought you knew me better than that,” Luke said, though he didn’t blame Jake for feeling that way.
“I thought I did, too, until you up and disappeared. I will not stand by and see my girl hurt like that again,” Jake glanced obliquely in Jonathan’s direction before continuing. “I really thought you were different, someone she could depend on, build her life back with.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a lot of proving to do.” Without waiting for a response he stood and joined Jonathan, helping position the traces, and tightening the last of the buckles.
Luke felt the burden of Jake’s words, and for the thousandth time he wondered if returning to Providence was the right thing to do.
***
Kate watched the team approaching from the west, as the sun cast its final red light behind them. Jake drove while Jonathan and Luke walked slowly behind the mow.
“Are they coming yet, Momma?” Jo called from the kitchen where she was helping Nana put the finishing touches on the supper.
“They’re on the way now,” Kate called back.
A lightening blur ran past her. “Oh, I wanna see!” Jo strained her neck as she stretched tall enough to see over the rise. “I see him, I see him!”
Kate sighed and shook her head at her daughter’s exuberance. She wished she could feel Jo’s unabashed joy at seeing Luke again. In Jo’s mind, Luke had simply been gone on a short adventure. All the fretting and grieving Jo had done the last few days was wiped out when Kate made the simple announcement, “Luke’s home.”
