Open Road

by M. M. Holaday

  “Miss Sinclair seems to think he’ll do fine on the exams.”

  “I’ll do my best, Ma,” James said. He was so earnest, she wanted to gather him up in her arms.

  Concerned that Win might draw assumptions similar to the boys, Meg wrote him another letter that night, assuring him that all was well at their ranch. She hoped it would keep him from feeling obligated to come back. Charlie offered to post her letter when they went by the Carters’ store on the way to school.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: WIN

  Sitka, Alaska, May 1887

  Win left the telegraph office and pounded his fist against the support beam with such force that the icicles hanging from the roof all broke away and shattered on the frozen ground below.

  Another telegraph line was down. A crew was working its way along the line looking for the break, but progress was slow. Win had spent the winter reading and rereading Meg’s letter telling him of Jeb’s death, folding and unfolding the paper so many times he could see through where the creases made the paper thin and fragile. Ice-bound in Alaska, there was no way out. Unable to communicate and unable to leave, Win nearly went mad waiting for the thaw.

  The first ship to break through the ice had brought the letters from Charlie and Meg. He saw through her attempt to appear self-sufficient and solvent. If only he could get to her before she did something desperate, like marry Parker. Who was he, anyway? Frustration and the cold made Win’s eyes water. He hit the post again.

  More icicles fell and skidded in all directions as they broke, reminding Win of the shooting contest between Jeb and him one cold winter morning when they were kids. They each had a slingshot and five stones of equal weight and size. The challenge was to see who could knock off the most icicles from the chicken coop. Jeb went first and knocked off one icicle. Then Win aimed and took his shot. He hit the thickest part of the ice, so that the entire frozen shelf came crashing down. All twelve icicles smashed and skittered across the frozen ground. Jeb’s face didn’t hide a single emotion. He was surprised at first, dismayed next, and then perturbed, but accepted defeat in the evenly keeled manner that was Jeb. Win laughed so hard, he started to hiccup. He held a twelve to one lead that Jeb could never overcome. Win never confessed that he really missed the shot and that he didn’t mean for the whole thing to come down. He wished he could tell him now. Win could hardly breathe, being stranded so far away. He wanted to be with Meg. No one else would understand.

  The ship signaled its departure. Win grabbed his gear and headed for the dock. No chance to send a telegraph until he landed in Seattle. He hoped Meg wouldn’t be foolish enough to marry Parker. He couldn’t lose her a second time. He’d never sailed on a slower moving vessel.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: MEG

  Dawson ranch, June 1887

  James and Meg stood in the Cold Springs livery talking with the owner, Paul Stevens, who appeared distracted as James told him that their herd was strong and healthy.

  “You still got Indians working for ya?” he blurted out suddenly.

  It was the same question Meg encountered everywhere. She drew her breath to speak, but James beat her to it.

  “Mr. Stevens, we all have our reasons for what we do. You can tell anyone who bothers to ask that your horses come from the best ranch in the county. If they disagree because we have Wash working for us, then we can’t help you.”

  “Mrs. Dawson!” Nathan Miller, the town doctor, stood in the doorway. “I thought that was you. I was just walking by and . . . It’s been so long.” He strode over to her.

  “Dr. Miller, what a surprise! James, this is Dr. Nathan Miller, an old family friend.”

  “Yes, we’ve met. It’s a pleasure to see you, again, Dr. Miller.” James shook his hand.

  “Likewise. Are you here doing a bit of horse trading?”

  “Yes, sir. We hope to, anyway. Mr. Stevens is considering our offer.”

  “Paul, you’re a fool if you don’t buy your stock from the Dawsons. Their horses are the most responsive creatures I’ve ever ridden.” Dr. Miller turned to Meg. “Please stop by my office before you leave town, will you?”

  “Of course,” she said. Dr. Miller tipped his hat and disappeared down the street.

  Stevens coughed and spat. “I guess I cain’t argue with the doc. I lost a couple of good horses a few months ago. I could use another supplier. Sometimes Timmons don’t have nothin’ to sell me.”

  James shook his hand firmly. “You’ve got yourself a reliable backup, Mr. Stevens. You won’t regret it.”

  Jeb had remained in contact with Dr. Miller ever since he and Win hauled freight. They had even stayed with him a couple of times when they were low on cash, or the hotel was full. After Meg and Jeb were married and started raising horses, Jeb occasionally had business in Cold Springs. The last few times, he brought James with him. She didn’t realize Jeb had introduced James to Nathan.

  She barely recognized the street where the doctor’s office stood. The office itself had changed, too. It was twice its original size and noticeably neat, clean, and well organized. Dr. Miller had married years ago, and his wife managed the office.

  Mrs. Miller emerged from the back room when they entered the front door. “Hello, Mrs. Dawson, I’m Elizabeth Miller, Nathan’s wife.” She smiled shyly. “Dr. Miller was called away briefly. He asked if you would wait. It won’t be long.” She turned to James. “Hello, James, dear.”

  James removed his hat. “Ma’am.”

  “I hope you won’t think I’m rude, but Nathan asked me to wire a telegraph to his colleague in Chicago. I do apologize, but if you’ll please excuse me . . .”

  “Of course. I understand. We’ll just wait here,” Meg said. Mrs. Miller disappeared.

  James strolled absently around the office, browsing the bookshelves. He pulled down a large volume and opened it. The room was quiet, except for the ticking clock. Meg gently rubbed the palm of her hand where Jeb had stitched up the deep cut long ago before they were married. “I didn’t know your father had introduced you to the Millers. Your pa was in medical school for a while, did you know that?”

  “Yes, he said he was going to follow his father into medicine, but it just wasn’t what he wanted to do. Then Uncle Win showed up and took Pa west with him. Pa said it was a good example of how something good can happen even when something tragic sets it in motion. He said he might never have come west and met you. He really loved it out here . . . and you.” James looked up from the book to smile warmly at his mother. “Do you know what these are?” He held the book open to a page filled with circles colored bright orange. Curious, Meg peered at the beautiful illustrations and shook her head. “They’re drawings of the inside of an eye. You use an ophthalmoscope to see the back of the eye. You can tell a lot about a person’s health that way.”

  James set the book down and brought out a contraption from behind the doctor’s desk. Before Meg could protest her son’s forwardness, he explained how the instrument worked.

  “My goodness. When did you learn all of this?”

  “Pa taught me a little, ’cause I asked him a lot of questions. Miss Sinclair gave me a couple of old medical texts, and when Pa and I came to town last spring, he introduced me to Dr. Miller.”

  Meg stared at him. “Do you want to become a doctor?”

  James shrugged. “Maybe, someday. Not yet. Not while we’re getting the ranch back on its feet.”

  “Oh, James. I didn’t know. We’ve got to see that you continue with school.”

  “It’s expensive, and we can’t afford it right now.”

  “We’ll find a way.”

  “Not if it means marrying Mr. Parker.”

  “Mr. Parker, again! I won’t marry him, I promise. It wouldn’t solve anything. Please don’t worry about that.”

  Dr. Miller came through the front door with a pretty girl about Charlie’s age. “Thank goodness you waited! I’m so glad. Suzanne, this is James’s mother, Mrs. Dawson. This is Suzanne, my daughter.” They greeted
each other politely. Then Dr. Miller asked James to help Suzanne bring the boxes they left out front around to the back of the office. “My, but he’s the image of his father if I ever saw one,” he said when they disappeared. Dr. Miller took Meg’s hands in his. “Mrs. Dawson, forgive me for my delay in saying this. I wanted to extend my deepest sympathy to you, but didn’t want to interrupt your business at the livery. Poor Mr. Stevens can handle only one topic at a time, and I knew I would be a distraction if I said something there. Jeb and I saw each other a fair amount over the years. I considered him a good friend.” He squeezed her hand, then offered her a seat and sat down at his desk. Apparently, he had something else on his mind. “Mrs. Dawson, James has a keen mind, and he seems quite interested in medicine.”

  “Yes, I’m beginning to see that. I didn’t realize until today that Jeb had already introduced you.”

  He nodded. “What do you think about James going to medical school?”

  “I think a person should follow his heart. If James wants to become a doctor, I fully support him. We can’t afford medical school right now, however.”

  “Hmmm . . .” Dr. Miller leaned back in his chair. “I could use an assistant. Elizabeth is a tremendous help keeping the books and the office orderly, but I could use an extra set of hands with patients, and she does not enjoy that part of the work. Suzanne can help, but she’s still in school. Would you consider allowing James to apprentice with me? With some practical experience with me and some formal training in Boulder, he’d make a fine doctor.”

  “That is incredibly generous.”

  “Well, it isn’t charity. Here’s the catch,” he said. “The idea would be that once he finishes his training, he’d come back here and be my partner. I’m investing in the future of my practice.”

  Dr. Miller’s offer was a wonderful opportunity, if that was what James truly wanted. Meg’s heart ached a little. She knew he would leave someday, but so soon after losing Jeb, she wasn’t sure if she could let go of her firstborn. She had to get home and talk it over with Jeb. Gus would probably have some wise words, too. She couldn’t say that out loud, though. Nathan would think something was wrong with her head if she said she had to talk it over with her dead husband. She spotted James standing in the doorway, listening to their conversation.

  “Is this what you want, James?”

  “Yes, but only when the ranch has enough help. I won’t leave until we’re ready.”

  She shook her head. “What if that never happens? This is a wonderful opportunity. Dr. Miller is so generous, but he can’t wait forever. He’ll have to hire a different assistant.”

  “I can hold off for a while, Meg,” Nathan said, abandoning formal address. “Take some time to get back on your feet. But think about it, both of you.”

  As soon as they arrived home, Meg raced to the piñon tree.

  “Jeb, James may be able to go to medical school and become a doctor.”

  Ah, Meggie, that would make him happy.

  “Nathan is being awfully generous. He says it isn’t charity. I couldn’t bear charity. It makes me feel weak, and I have to stay strong.”

  Nathan needs a partner; the town is growing. For him to offer James a partnership in his practice is a wonderful opportunity for James, but it’s good for Nathan, too. He wouldn’t offer something like that just to be charitable. Something mutually beneficial isn’t charity.

  “You’re right, Jeb. You always see things so clearly. Do you ever regret not finishing medical school?”

  What did James tell you in Dr. Miller’s office?

  “That you felt something good came from something tragic. If your parents hadn’t been killed, you may have never come out west. We may have never met. Oh, Jeb, I love you. I miss you so much.”

  I’m right here, Meggie.

  Tragic events set in motion new beginnings. It happened to Jeb when he came west and started a new life. Now, a second tragedy would be the beginning of a new life for his son. James would follow his grandfather and go to medical school. He would honor his father by following his own path. Meg relaxed and leaned back on the bench Wash had placed there for her. A breeze swirled around her.

  CHAPTER SIXTY: WIN

  Seattle, June 1887

  Win jumped from the ship in Seattle the moment the boarding ramp was in place. He bolted to the train station, leaping onto the eastbound Northern Pacific car as it pulled out. Completed four years earlier, the railroad connected the isolated northwest to civilized points east, reducing travel time from weeks to days, one benefit of progress that Win favored in his current situation.

  He sat in a passenger car and reread the letters. He glanced up to see the woman sitting across from him wrinkling her nose as though he were spoiled fish. He hadn’t bathed all winter, his beard was long and scraggly, and his odor undoubtedly offensive.

  “Pardon my appearance, ma’am. Just off the boat from Alaska. Didn’t have time to clean up.”

  “Indeed,” she sniffed, turning away from him. “Let’s hope you find time soon.”

  He nodded politely and removed himself from the car. As impatient as he was to get home, the woman had good advice. He got off in Cheyenne and sent a telegram to Meg that said he was coming home. Then he bought a hot bath, a shave, and a haircut. He bought new clothes and bundled his old buckskins and furs on the back of a handsome bay that reminded him of Hippocrates. Only then did he continue on his journey home.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE: MEG

  Dawson ranch

  Meg paced back and forth at the piñon tree, agitated and irritated. She’d received a telegram from Win.

  “Win is coming! I don’t want him to come!” she told Jeb.

  You know he’s just worried about you; he’s always cared for you.

  “He’s coming back because he feels obligated!”

  He just wants to be sure you are all right.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  I know. But we always knew he considered this place his home.

  “He will see that we’re struggling and feel like he has to stay and take care of us.”

  Isn’t life sweeter when we share it with those we love?

  “He’ll feel trapped. Then he’ll leave. He always leaves.” Meg flopped down on the bench and caught sight of Charlie and James watching her from the porch. They turned away, but remained on the porch and occasionally looked up the hill at her. She knew they worried about her. She had overheard them talking to Wash.

  Wash had tried to relieve their concerns. He told them that a week earlier, he chased a young colt who had escaped into the woods. He slipped on a pile of wet leaves and fell into a ravine. His foot was stuck in a mass of exposed roots and he couldn’t climb out. He was there for an hour when their mother suddenly peered over the edge. He asked her how she found him and she said she heard the wind talking. Some people have that gift, he had told the boys. “Some people see and hear with their hearts better than we see and hear with our eyes and ears,” he said.

  “You’re sure we shouldn’t get Doc Miller to take a look at her?” Charlie had asked.

  Wash shrugged. “If she lived with my people, she would be considered holy.”

  “Nothing else she does is strange, Charlie,” James said. “Talking to Pa and Gus doesn’t upset her; in fact, I think it makes her feel better. If she starts spending too much time up there, I’ll talk to her.”

  Dear James, Meg thought. Dear Charlie. Still on the porch, Charlie ran his fingers through his hair, a telltale sign he was worried. She’d better not spend too much time up here. She couldn’t stop Win from coming at this point anyway. She rose and made her way down the hill.

  Charlie met her in the yard. “I worry about you sometimes, talking to Pa up there like that.”

  “When I was your age, I would have worried, too, Charlie,” she said, rubbing his back gently. “Don’t you fret. I’m fine, I promise. Everyone has his or her own way of searching for answers. We’re all just trying to make sense out of
the world. Miss Sinclair reads poetry. I think Mr. Parker prays. Your pa built furniture when he needed to think, and Gus brushed down the horses and talked to me. I did the same until Biscuit showed me that peaceful spot up on the hill. Now, sitting up there . . . I don’t know . . . it quiets my mind, lifts my spirit, brings me peace, and gives me strength. I’m all right, Charlie.”

  “Don’t be mad at Uncle Win,” Charlie said. “He’s just coming to make sure we’re all right.”

  A sob escaped Meg, part laughter, part tears. Jeb had said that, too. She wrapped her arms around her boy. “I know, darlin’.”

  On a warm summer night, Meg sat out on the porch swing. Earlier in the evening, she’d balanced the books. If they had another harsh winter, they might not recover. She worried about making ends meet, and that James would never get to follow his own dreams. On these sorts of nights, her mind would start to spin and she couldn’t sleep. Feeling restless, she’d left her bed and wandered out to the porch. A breeze swirled around her, bringing the scents of the mountains and the plains together in a symphony of memories. The moon was full, casting shadows on the landscape before her. The crickets chirped loudly, an owl hooted. Before Jeb died, Meg never understood owls, why they called so mournfully into the night. Now she did.

  A lone rider made his way slowly down the hill in the bright moonlight. Meg recognized the shadow as Win, but wasn’t sure if he was real. She’d imagined him riding into the yard so many times, she wondered if she hadn’t conjured up an apparition from all the magic in the heavy night air. She stayed on the porch swing, wrapped in her shawl. He rode in and quietly dismounted.

  “Are you a ghost?” she whispered.

  He paused halfway up the porch steps. “No, it’s me,” he whispered back, and continued up the steps. He sat down next to her on the swing and put his arm around her. They sat in silence. Meg could feel his warmth through her clothes.

  She laid her head on his shoulder.