Open Road

by M. M. Holaday

  “You boys know who I am?” He wondered if he should have asked the question. He might have set himself up for disappointment if they had never heard of him.

  “Sure we do.” James stood next to Charlie, who only stared in silence. “You’re our Uncle Win.” Charlie nodded his head in agreement, not taking his eyes off Win.

  Win’s eyes stung, moved by the warm reception. To regain his composure, he stuck his hand out to shake with James, who shook it as hard as the four-year-old was capable. “C’mon, Charlie, do like I did,” James said to his brother, who shyly held out a sticky little hand. “We’s best friends, too, Charlie and me.” James put a protective arm over his brother’s shoulder.

  “Well done, boys. Now, before we get to celebrating, we’ve got a job to do. Your Uncle Win brought your ma some lilac bushes, and we’ve got to figure out a place for them. C’mon.” Jeb led the horses to the barn. Gus and the boys—plus the dogs—trailed after him, leaving Win and Meg standing alone together.

  He turned to her and grinned. “Look at you, all grown up with a passel of kids.” He kept a teasing tone in his voice, but in truth, he wanted to tell her that he thought about her all the time, that he regretted giving her up so easily to Jeb, and that there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t dream about riding up to their ranch and having her run out to greet him like she had just done.

  “They are my life, Win. Life changes when babies come.”

  “I expect so.” He looked at her carefully. “Motherhood suits you. You look wonderful, Meg.”

  She brushed the dirt from her apron and tried to tame the loose strands blowing about her face, but succeeded only in bringing the dirt from her apron up to her hair. “Oh, Win.” She sounded as though she doubted his words. Then she lifted her chin to look him in the eye. “Why did you stay away so long?”

  Much had happened in the few years he’d been away. Meg looked the same, but she was indeed a completely different person now, with children and Jeb and Gus to look after. He couldn’t help but feel a little ache remembering the carefree days from their past, when she would ride out to greet them as they drove their freight wagon into Paradise. He saw her in his mind’s eye—Biscuit loping toward them, Meg smiling broadly. He cleared his throat. “Didn’t want to come back a failure.”

  “You think your success is all we care about?”

  Before Win could answer, Jeb had already emerged from the barn. He held up a lilac bush and called to Win good-naturedly, “Are you going to help us plant these or just stare at my pretty wife?” James dragged a shovel across the yard following Gus, who had Charlie in tow. The dogs romped and barked alongside, excited by all the activity.

  Win spread his arms out. “Stare at your pretty wife, of course!” But Meg started to walk toward Jeb, so he followed.

  After some discussion as to their best location, they planted the lilac bushes at the sunny southeast corner of the house, in a fertile garden bed next to the porch. As they dug the holes and dropped the bushes in them, Meg held Charlie against her like a shield. He eventually squirmed, however, when it was time to water the plants, as he could see mud in his future and didn’t want to miss it. Meg let him go, but crossed her arms over her chest as though protecting her heart. At least, Win imagined that was what she was doing.

  After dinner and the boys were in bed, the adults sat on the porch well into the night, enjoying the comfortable evening air. Meg asked Win to tell them about his travels.

  “The West is so filled with surveyors that they’re bumping into each other. This last summer, Hayden and Wheeler met at the Arkansas River. Can you imagine? Congress is funding King, Hayden, Powell, and Wheeler—all of them! I wonder who is keeping track of it all. There’s a fair amount of overlap.” Win stretched comfortably. “I had the interesting experience of meeting Clarence King, the geologist exploring along the 40th parallel. He’s younger than Hayden or Powell, and dresses rather impractically, but was a great storyteller for the two nights I stayed in their camp. He and his best friend, James Gardiner, struck out much the same way the two of us did a few years ago, Jeb. They made their way to San Francisco, where King was able to convince someone to make him an unpaid assistant geologist on the California State Geological Survey. His rose up the ranks quickly, obviously.”

  “Are you rising up in the ranks?” Jeb leaned on the porch railing.

  Win laughed. “Nah. I’m too irritating.”

  “The paper said that the 3rd US Cavalry escorts Wheeler’s bunch. You ever have Indian trouble?” Gus asked.

  “Well, the cavalry can be a comforting presence to some, but truthfully, I think they bring more harm than good. It causes Indians to wonder about the motives of the expedition. Too many uniforms and it starts to look like a military campaign. And there have been plenty of those.”

  “I read General Custer was sent into the Yellowstone to clear out the Indians. Have you ever seen him?” Gus asked.

  Win shook his head. “Been able to avoid him. Can’t say what I’d do if I ran into him, to be honest. The man carries out orders with voracity beyond mere obedience. His life will not end well.”

  “You know that if you fight with the Indians against the military, it will be considered treason, and they’ll hang you, don’t you?” Jeb leaned forward, being practical as always.

  Resting comfortably on the chair, Win raised both hands as if to surrender. “I have no wish for death, or bloodlust. Last time I faced my own mortality, I was face to face with a Shoshone with a knife in his hand—”

  “Oh!” Meg cried. “Maybe I don’t want to hear your stories, Win! I can’t bear to hear about hangings or knife fights.”

  “My apologies, Meggie. Not another word on the subject.”

  “I worry about you enough as it is. When Jeb reads your letters to us, you sometimes sound so angry and frustrated.”

  “Maybe it’s Jeb who’s angry and frustrated reading them.” Win grinned at Jeb.

  Meg shook her head. “You know what I mean. We sympathize with you, but . . .”

  “Your opinions are getting more and more radical,” Jeb said.

  “A man starts leaning so hard to one side, he’s likely to tip over,” Gus said.

  Win chuckled. “That’s why I came home, Gus. I needed some of your philosophy—and Meg’s peach pie—to bring me back to center.” With that, he reached over to the pie plate and helped himself to the last slice. As he did, the amulet he wore around his neck, which was given to him by a northern Arapaho chief named Black Coal, fell out of hiding beneath his shirt. He tucked it away without a word about it, and instead complimented Meg on her baking skills.

  The next morning, Win slept in and shuffled sleepily into an empty kitchen. He peered out the window. The dogs were sitting attentively outside the hen house, so Win figured Gus must be inside collecting eggs. James was undoubtedly with him. From the side window and through the open barn door, he caught a glimpse of Meg’s skirt. She must be milking the cow. A few bits of hay fell out of the hayloft above. Jeb must be up there. A bucolic scene—white settlers living their lives in peace. How different it looked through the eyes of the Indian, who watched helplessly as their land disappeared. How different from the point of view of the railroad men, who wanted to conquer nature as an enemy, or fleshy, pasty politicians, who drew lines on a map to declare what was theirs. Win poured himself a cup of coffee, sat down at the kitchen table, and pondered the complicated mess. Charlie appeared at the doorway.

  The boy padded in and climbed up on a chair at the head of the table without a word. He looked as if he had dressed himself. Barefoot, his pants were held up by only one button, and his shirt was buttoned wrong, so that his collar was askew. He yawned, but focused his attention on the bread and preserves on the table.

  “Mornin’,” Win said when Charlie glanced up briefly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  Charlie reached across the table and pulled closer the plate of fresh bread and the bowl of preserves. He took a slice
of bread and laid it on the table. Grabbing a spoon tightly, he clumsily scooped out a big dollop of preserves. It landed on the table, so he pushed the preserves back into the spoon with his hands. Once the sticky mess was finally on the bread, he abandoned the spoon and spread the preserves with his fingers. Then he folded the bread and took a large bite, chewing thoughtfully. A glob of preserves dripped out the end of the folded bread, landing on the table. Charlie put his lips to the table and sucked up the preserves with a loud slurp. Then he grinned broadly at Win, who couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

  Charlie finished off his breakfast and then, face and hands covered with preserves, climbed down from his chair and disappeared outside.

  Moments later, Gus opened the door for James, who carried a basket of eggs to the sink and ran back outside. Gus grabbed the back of the chair where Charlie had just eaten. His hand landed in the smear of preserves. He swore quietly under his breath.

  “I reckon Charlie’s up.” Gus wet a rag and calmly wiped up the sticky mess. “Takes after his ma,” Gus said, giving him a resigned but knowing look. Win could not suppress his laughter. Gus then asked a question that sobered him quickly. “That talisman around your neck . . . where’d it come from?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Is the short version that you’ve taken sides?”

  “I’m no fool, Gus.”

  Gus squinted at Win, unconvinced.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: JEB

  Dawson ranch, during Win’s visit, 1873

  The sun was barely brightening the eastern sky when Meg whispered into Jeb’s ear. He smiled at her suggestion before even fully awake. When he opened his eyes, he saw her smiling back at him in the dim light. Silently they dressed and slipped out of the house and climbed into the hayloft, where they made love. Afterward, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms and listened to the first stirrings of the morning.

  “That was a nice surprise.” Jeb smoothed Meg’s hair.

  “I wanted you to know where my heart is.”

  “I know where your heart is, Meggie.”

  “Good.” She looked up at him, grinning. “Just so we’re clear.”

  “You made it crystal clear, although if you’d like to reassure me again—”

  The barn door opened, startling them both. They jumped up, rustling the hay. “I hope that’s you two up there and not some varmint I gotta shoot,” Gus said. “Don’t mind me; I’m just lettin’ the horses out.”

  Meg laughed. “We’re coming down, Gus. I’ll milk Sadie.” They dressed quickly and, with one more kiss, separated to do their daily chores.

  Meg’s soft skin and her bold act lingered in Jeb’s thoughts, alleviating any concern that her heart could ever be wooed away from the life they’d built together at their ranch. She was content.

  He finished his chores quickly when he saw Gus with a basket of eggs. Breakfast would be ready soon, and he was starving.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: MEG

  Dawson ranch, during Win’s visit, 1873

  Meg finished milking and breezed into the kitchen with a full pail, an area on her bloomers wet with sex and sticking to the inside of her thigh. She surprised Gus and Win sitting at the table, deep in conversation.

  When Gus saw her, he stood up abruptly. “Charlie’s up . . . got breakfast himself.”

  Meg sighed, deposited the pail on the table, and left, glad for an excuse to leave. She wondered if her romp in the hay with Jeb would show on her face. She didn’t know if Win would feel free to tease her about marital relations.

  She found Charlie playing in the dirt. He allowed himself to be swept up and carried into the kitchen. Holding the boy over the sink, she rinsed him off, an action routine for them both.

  “Charlie, honey, next time offer something to eat to our guest first.” She dried his hands with her apron and buttoned his shirt properly, smiling at her beautiful boy.

  Charlie furrowed his brow and looked at Win, crinkling his nose in confusion. He pointed to Win. “Fammy.”

  “That’s right, partner. I am family. You remind your ma.” Win chuckled.

  Charlie got a kiss on his forehead from his mother and a sigh. “You’re right; I stand corrected.”

  Gus plucked a piece of straw from Meg’s hair before he took the boy’s hand. “C’mon, Charlie boy . . . let’s go find James and your pa and tell ’em breakfast is about ready.” He walked out the door, leaving Meg alone with Win in the kitchen.

  Only then did it register that she’d interrupted their conversation. “What were you and Gus—?”

  “Your boys are great, Meg. The younger one’s a little sticky, but great.”

  “They are my life.” She watched out the window as her boys trailed after Gus, headed for the barn. “I lost one, Win; a little girl.” She wasn’t sure why she revealed something so painful and personal.

  “Jeb told me. I’m sorry.”

  Meg looked past the barn to the piñon tree on the hill. “There are pieces of my heart buried up there, under that piñon tree. Someday, all of me will be up there, too. I told Jeb that’s where I want to be buried, next to my baby girl and Biscuit.”

  “Maybe you’ll have a girl yet.”

  Meg wondered if she and Jeb had just made a baby. The idea made her smile. “Maybe so.” She turned from the window. “Will you slice more bread while I fry the eggs?”

  “Absolutely! Holding something soft and warm will remind me of holding you.”

  Meg shook her head in exasperation, but laughed. She broke the eggs into the frying pan. “Those lilac bushes are so beautiful, Win. They’re just perfect for that side of the house. Thank you so much.”

  “Well, what can I say? I see something beautiful, and it reminds me of you.”

  “Win . . .” she said, this time adding a warning tone to her voice.

  “Aw, hell, Meggie, don’t fret. Jeb knows I’m madly in love with you—it’s no secret.”

  Before she could respond, the family descended upon them and another conversation ended unfinished. It seemed to be the case with Win. Meg served the crew with the efficiency of a station keeper while Win told the boys the story of the time she was recognized from her racing days.

  “Wow . . .” James whispered, with awe and admiration in equal parts. Charlie whispered an identical exclamation, although Meg doubted he understood the story—he often mimicked his brother.

  “It was a long time ago, James,” his mother said.

  “Not that long,” Gus and Win said in unison. Only Jeb seemed to understand how long ago it really was.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: WIN

  Dawson ranch

  The day’s work complete, Meg sat next to Win on the porch. James and Charlie played at her feet. A breeze swirled around them, and for a moment, Win imagined himself married to Meg and felt at peace. “This is heaven,” he said to no one in particular.

  “Agreed,” Jeb said. He and Meg looked at each other and smiled.

  His fantasy shattered, Win closed his eyes to hide his jealousy. “I think I’ll run up to see Gray Wolf tomorrow.”

  “Want company?” Jeb asked. “We could all go—make a day of it.”

  “Nah. I need a break from this infuriating happiness.” Win opened his eyes, picked up Charlie, and held him upside down and face to face. He grinned and Charlie giggled, obviously delighted to be infuriatingly happy.

  Meg sent fresh gingerbread with Win the next day, along with an invitation to come for a visit soon to see the new foals. It was a romantic ideal that such different cultures could live peacefully side by side. It would stagger the mind of someone like General Custer to see the warm relations between the two families. Sadly, just months earlier, Custer led a campaign to hunt down Sioux in the Yellowstone and exterminate them. Win didn’t know how to stop the madness.

  Gray Wolf welcomed Win with pleasure. He motioned for Win to join him at his fire while he produced and lit a pipe. He smoked his pipe first, and then passed it to Win. When they had smoked a whi
le, he pointed to the amulet. “My runners tell me you twice warned our people of soldiers coming. Tell me the story behind the markings. Some are new to me.”

  “I rode into Powder River country, once to a Lakota village in the area you call the Greasy Grass, and later to a small Arapaho camp on the Yellowstone, to warn the people that soldiers were coming. The first warning came with enough time for everyone to disappear into the canyon, but, the second time, the soldiers were close and the people barely made it across the river, which was high from the spring melt.

  “Two children had wandered off before the frenzied escape. Their mothers couldn’t find them. I stayed behind, unsaddled Hippocrates, and stoked up the fire. The children came back to camp to find me waiting for them, but there was no time to flee. I hid them in a pile of furs the Arapaho left behind and started roasting their freshly caught rabbit. When the soldiers rode into camp, I told them I had come hoping to trade, and wondered what spooked my customers, but reckoned it was the 7th Cavalry, by the looks of things.

  “Custer, in his eagerness to fight Indians, had no patience for my repeated attempts to sell my furs to him and rode off in frustration, his men trailing after him. The two Arapaho boys stayed hidden until the last cavalryman disappeared over the hill. Then the three of us high-tailed it across the river. I put the boys on Hippocrates and we swam together, me holding onto his mane. We caught up to the camp late that evening.”

  Gray Wolf nodded. “It was a brave and honorable deed.”

  “Anyone would have done the same thing. It was nothing.”

  “To the boys’ mothers, it was everything.”

  Win shrugged and thought of Meg and her devotion to her boys. Perhaps Gray Wolf was right. He pointed to the hiiteni, symbols representing abundance, prosperity, and the life force. “This, as you know, is a prayer for good health and fortune. This wavy line and the two circles represent the river and the two boys. The mother who made it for me said wearing it will protect me from drowning. If I’d had this a few years ago, I might have chanced the Colorado River.” Win looked at the beadwork for a moment before he tucked it inside his shirt. “Gray Wolf, Gus worries that my anger at the white government clouds my thinking and is making me reckless. I’d like to know what you think.”