by Karen Noland
Mother and daughter returned to the kitchen to set the table and prepare for the evening meal. Jo’s incessant chatter and optimistic view of Luke’s return soon grated against Kate’s already strained nerves. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, Lord, give me patience, I don’t want to lose my temper, but I feel it coming.
“I helped Nana bake a fresh apple tart for desert tonight,” Jo said, her little arms straining against the weight of a stoneware jug filled with fresh milk.
“Jo, watch out...” Kate warned just as Jo stumbled on her way to the table. The pitcher crashed to the floor in a jarring lurch, pottery shards and creamy milk covering the rag rug and plank flooring. Jo stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, her mouth a small oh of dismay.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kate snapped. “Get a rag and clean up that mess.”
“But, Momma, it was an accident,” Jo cried, trembling.
“You weren’t paying attention to what you were doing, and you made a mess. Now you need to get it cleaned up,” Kate’s said sternly.
Tears welled up in Jo’s blue eyes, her cheeks paled, then turned scarlet red as a voice from the door spoke quietly, “Let me help with that. Somehow, I feel I may have been the cause of these troubles.”
“Luke, oh, Luke,” Jo cried, running into his arms and weeping against his broad chest.
Kate set her jaw, raging with barely controlled anger and an unexpected stab of jealousy at seeing her daughter comforted in the arms of a virtual stranger. “Supper’s ready. You may come to the table as soon as the mess is cleared,” she said in a cold, even voice.
Jake and Nana exchanged a surprised glance. Nana shrugged her shoulders.
The meal was a quiet affair. Conversation was strained and trivial. Even Jo sat quietly subdued, though Kate noticed the little girl glowed with adoration every time Luke happened to glance at her.
“Jo, honey, if you’re done with your tart, then you need to go up and get ready for bed, okay?” Kate said gently, sorry for her outburst earlier.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jo excused herself, and climbed down from the bench.
“I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.” Kate smiled as Jo scurried from the room, catching one last glimpse of Luke, as though to assure herself that he was really there.
Nana stood to clear the table. “I’ll just get these cleaned up, then Jake and I are gonna turn in for the evening. Jonathan, you run on home now, we’ll be along shortly.”
“Mrs. Insley, I’ll clean up tonight,” Kate offered. “You all have been putting in some mighty long days, and I got an unexpected break today. Tomorrow is going to be another long one.”
Nana considered this for a moment, glancing between Kate and Luke, before nodding in agreement. Carrying the plates she had already gathered to the sink, she set them beside the pump, took her shawl from its peg, and gathered her basket from the bench by the door. “Come along then Jake, I’ll fix you a nice cup of tea at home.”
As the Insleys left, Kate began clearing the remaining dishes from the table, wondering if Luke would stay or leave.
“Why don’t you go see to your daughter? I’ll take care of these,” Luke said, his voice gentle, yet distant.
Kate realized these were the first words he had spoken directly to her since his return. She nodded without looking at him, and hurried from the room. Pausing at the foot of the ladder leading to the small loft, she gripped the rung with an intensity that surprised her. Trying to calm her surging emotions before climbing up to see Jo, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Even here the smell of fresh mown hay clung to her skin and clothes. She tried to empty her mind of thoughts and feelings by focusing on these senses, the feel of the wooden rung beneath her calloused hand, the warm breeze stirring the curtains, whispering past her cheek. She felt her heartbeat slow, and finally she loosened her grasp and began the short climb to Jo’s loft.
Jo lay nestled against the feather pillow, a riotous mass of red-gold curls dwarfing her pale face. Huge blue eyes stared somberly up at Kate. Candy lay nearby on a small rag rug, her tail thumping a steady rhythm as Kate approached. Kneeling beside the bed, Kate took Jo’s hand in hers, marveling again at the absolute perfection of God’s creation.
“Honey, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier.”
“That’s all right,” Jo replied. “Momma?” she asked, her gaze fixing intently on Kate.
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you glad Luke’s home?” she asked. “I missed him so much, and I worried about him, but now he’s home, and it feels so right, and I’m ever so glad,” Jo paused. “I really like Luke, Momma, and I thought.....” her voice trailed off as she glanced away.
“You thought what, sweetheart?” Kate asked, filled with trepidation.
“I thought you liked him, too.”
Kate searched her daughter’s face, not knowing how to respond. Placing a tender kiss on Jo’s forehead, she whispered, “Let’s pray for Luke, and for us, and see what plans God has, okay?”
“Okay,” Jo replied sleepily as she snuggled deeper into the pillow, her doll tucked securely under one arm.
Picking up the small oil lamp that burned on the bedside table, Kate scratched Candy behind the ear, and made her way down from the loft. Pausing again at the bottom of the ladder, she could hear Luke scraping plates in the kitchen, then the sound of the pump arm being primed and soon water sluicing into the sink full of dishes.
“Wash or wipe?” Kate asked walking into the kitchen and grabbing a towel from the sideboard.
“I’ll wash, you dry,” Luke answered, sending her a sidelong glance.
Kate began methodically wiping the pewter plates as they came dripping from the water basin, stacking them in the open sideboard as she finished each one. They worked in silence for several minutes. Kate obliquely studied the man beside her. He had been good to them, worked diligently and hard. He had even risked his own life for them on more than one occasion. She once thought that he had been in love with her. Had she foolishly returned that love? A man in love does not ride away without so much as a word, she fumed.
Do not judge.
“I went to Guthrie.” His voice cut into her thoughts.
“Did you?” she asked, remembering the handbill in his room, but the revival was more than a month away.
“I talked to some cattle buyers there. One from Chicago made a real good offer, if we can get the steers to the railhead in Guthrie,” Luke said, wiping down the counter around the wash basin.
“Really?”
“With your approval, of course,” he added hastily.
“What is he offering?”
“Going market rate, about seven cents a pound. I figure we can send at least forty steers, and there’s twelve or fourteen older cows that you have heifers to replace that could go, too, though he’d offer a bit less for them.”
Kate made some quick mental calculations. Assuming the steers weighed in at around a thousand pounds each, and the cows besides, that would be well over three thousand dollars.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“I have his card. He said he’d meet us at the yards anytime the last week of September.”
She nodded, “I guess we’ll be going on a cattle drive, then. Won’t Jonathan be thrilled?”
Luke smiled. Their eyes met briefly, Kate felt her heart skip a beat in spite of her misgivings, before an awkward silence fell between them.
“Do you want some coffee or something?” Kate asked to break the stillness.
Luke shook his head. “Will you take a walk with me?” he asked.
Glancing toward the loft, Kate nodded, knowing Jo was soundly sleeping with Candy on guard.
The night was warm still, but a gentle breeze stirred the leaves and ruffled Kate’s hair. The cloying sweet scent of honeysuckle wafted from near the spring house which was covered in the deep green vines. They walked past the garden fence, toward the apple trees in the distance.
Stopping
beneath the spreading branches, she reached up and picked a reddish fruit, still slightly green beneath the ripening hue, firm and fresh. Kate could almost taste the tart-sweet fruit. She would have to help Nana and Jo harvest the apples soon and begin the drying and canning process.
Luke stood a few feet away, his back to her, staring at the silver crescent moon hung against the black velvet sky where a sprinkle of stars glittered like diamonds. Where were his thoughts just now, she wondered. Were they here at Providence, or did they soar above, winging their way to lands unknown? Could a man like Luke Josey ever be truly happy tied to one place? Kate sighed, realizing she still knew so little of him.
“Have you ever made a mistake?” he asked suddenly, still contemplating the vast heavens.
“Well, yes, of course I have,” Kate answered, puzzled.
“A mistake that hurt innocent people?”
Kate was silent.
“How can God forgive me, when I can’t even forgive myself?” Luke asked, anguish beginning to seep into his voice.
“Luke whatever it is....”
“No, you don’t understand!” He turned, his eyes held hers, filled with torment and rage.
All the anger she had held in check suddenly filled her. “Then tell me! Make me understand,” she raged back at him. “You come in here, turn our lives around, tell me you love me, then you vanish without a word!” Kate paused, “What is going on? Make me understand.”
She saw his jaw tighten. A tremor twitched above his left brow as he fought to control the emotions, held so closely in check, simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes grew darker as the rage surfaced. The dam broke, the words spilled forth, sweeping Kate along in a torrent of passions and emotions as the story unfolded.
“So the baby Annie carries is mine.” he finished brokenly, the storm spent. “How many lives have I ruined? How many innocent people have I hurt? Three? No, more - now you and Jo, the Insley’s, and it just goes on.”
Kate closed her eyes, numb from shock. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this. Pain flared brightly within her heart as the truth of his confession struck deep within her.
Listen to him. Do not judge.
Tochoway’s words resounded through her mind like a chant. Opening her eyes, she saw before her a man, a fellow being unworthy of God’s compassion and forgiveness, yet the recipient of them through God’s grace nonetheless. Could she do any less?
She took both of Luke’s hands in hers. Closing her eyes, she began to pray, “Dear Lord, show this man Your grace, Your mercy, Your love. Protect him, build him up in Your way.
“Build a hedge of thorns about the unborn babe, who bears no part in the sin of his parents. Be with the mother, Lord, in this time of fear that she faces, and Lord, smile on Michael, the man who is the true earthly father to this precious babe of Yours. We give you these lives, Lord, that only you can heal. In Jesus’ most holy name we pray these things, Amen.”
Looking deep into his eyes, she held his hands for a moment longer, then released him and returned to the house alone.
***
Tendrils of light painted the eastern horizon. The deep black canvas of night gave way to rosier hues, extinguishing the stars one by one. Luke sat with his back propped against the gnarled trunk of the apple tree watching the unfolding dawn of God’s creation. Fatigue invaded his bones, his muscles screamed in protest as he tried to move. He felt like Jacob of old, wrestling with God throughout the night. But was it God or the devil he had wrestled with?
He stood, stretching his aching body, and headed to the bunkhouse. Stopping at the pump, Luke splashed the icy water over his head and face. The bracing cold struck him full force, casting away the hazy dreams of night. Filling a bucket with the frigid water, he entered the small room. A brief glance in the mirror revealed his haggard expression and the filth of days on the trail. He removed his woolen vest, stripped away the dingy muslin shirt, his nose wrinkling at the stench imbedded within the fabric. Sitting on the bunk he grunted, struggling with the heavy boots, finally pulling them off and dropping each one heavily on the wooden floor along with the socks. The Levis came away, slick from wear, dust adorning every crease. Begrimed cotton under drawers joined the steadily growing pile.
As he removed the layers of filthy clothes, Luke felt a burden cast away with every garment. Taking a clean white towel from the shelf, he immersed it in the water. He brought the rag dripping from the bucket and scrubbed himself. Feeling the external cleansing power of the water, he longed to feel the same internal cleansing of his soul.
Closing his eyes to the filth about him, he prayed, “God, if you are the God of grace and mercy that I have been led to believe, I stand here today covered in my sin and shame, repentant, seeking Your compassion once and for all. Take my life, Lord, lead me, use me. God show me, show me what I need to do.”
He opened his eyes to the morning sun streaming through the cracked window, pooling in golden light all about him. A renewing energy began to flow within him, as he dressed for the day ahead.
Jake and Jonathan were coming down the path toward the barn when Luke emerged from his room.
Jake stopped, studying Luke for a moment through narrowed eyes. “Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you looked something like a new man today. Get a good night’s sleep?”
“Not exactly,” Luke answered, slapping Jake on the back. “Let’s get to work. What are we doing today?”
Jake continued to watch Luke with a bemused expression before answering, “We’re going to rake and stack that last field today, probably won’t finish, but I’d like to get as much in as we can today.”
“Did I see a dump rake behind the barn?” Luke asked hopefully.
“Yep, goes a might faster than the old days.” Jake said with a twinkle in his eye.
Luke nodded, remembering the raking days of his youth. He, his mother and sister would take the long hay rakes, turning every blade of cut grass in the field, then going back and pitching it into long rows that would be forked into the bed of a hay wagon pulled by a team. It meant days of arduous work in the blazing sun. With a mechanical dump rake pulled by the horses, a field could be turned and raked into neat rows in one continuous process, reducing the manual labor to almost nothing, until it came time to pitch the hay into the wagon.
“I don’t suppose you have one of those new stackers hiding around here somewhere?” Luke asked.
“Nope, not yet. Will bought the mow in Missouri before we came down to the Territory,” Jake explained. “Those first years, we hand raked the fields. After the first good steer sales, Will managed to buy the rake from a boomer that went bust for next to nothing. He always planned to get a stacker, but - well, things don’t always go the way you plan, do they?”
“No, they sure don’t,” Luke agreed.
***
Kate stabbed the tines of her pitchfork into the ground with a satisfied grunt. The last forks of green-gold hay had been pitched into the wagon now sagging beneath the stacked tonnage.
She had worked side by side with Luke the last two days, sweating beneath the same burning sun, covered in hay and dust, but able to laugh at his antics when a spider crawled up his pant leg. Their relationship was forever changed, she knew that. He had been kind and solicitous, even friendly during the haying, and she was seeing something new within his character. It was as though they were starting anew, getting to know one another all over again. Hope dawned within her as she began to see the man he was meant to be.
“Whoa, Goldie, whoa, Rosey,” Jo chanted, pulling against the reins with all the might her small arms could muster. The obedient mares stopped, standing quietly between the traces. The harnesses jangled as the horses stomped or twitched their backs in an effort to rid themselves of the ever-present flies.
Bringing in the hay pressed everyone into service, even Jo was able to help by driving the team slowly along the rows as the rest of them walked beside, gathering the hay into the tines of the forks and
pitching the heavy loads into the bed. Nana drove the buggy back and forth, carrying water and food. The work went on until it was too dark to see, and began again the next morning at the first light. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief seeing the last of the harvest safely in.
“Well, I say we have us a good rest for an hour or so, something light for supper, and I believe there may be enough ice left down in the spring house to make us some ice cream to celebrate with. How does that sound?” Kate asked the tired crew.
“Ice cream? Yippee!” Jo shouted.
“Who’s cranking?” Jake asked.
“I’ll crank,” Luke offered, “as long as we can have some of Nana’s good strawberry preserves over the top.”
“I reckon I could scrounge up a jar of preserves,” Nana said.
“It’s settled then. Let’s get this last load put up in the loft.” Kate tossed her pitchfork beneath the seat of the wagon. “Scoot over, Jo, I’m driving.”
The men clambered aboard the wagon, Nana took up the reins in the buggy, and Kate slapped her team, “Let’s get up, girls, we’re headed home.”
A few hours later, the pulleys squeaked beneath the weight of the last of the harvest as it was hoisted into the loft through the high, open doors. Kate coughed from the choking dust, and waved a tired hand shooing the incessant gnats from before her face.
“You look tired, sure you’re still up to a celebration?” Luke asked.
“I couldn’t possibly look half so bad as you!” Kate laughed, plucking a stray tuft of hay from his vest.
“Ha!” rejoined Luke, reaching out to extricate several blades of grass from Kate’s hair.
“Perhaps, but, I wear it well!” Kate realized it felt good to laugh again. The hay was in, a market had been found for the cattle, God’s providence at work once more. She wondered just what His plan was for them. Even the doubts and pain she felt after Luke’s confession were evaporating in the wake of his Kate turned her face to catch the glorious last rays of the dying sun. Thank you, Lord, but just once couldn’t you give me a little hint about what the future holds? Oh well, I guess that’s what faith is all about, isn’t it?
