Under the Summer Sky

by Lori Copeland

  “Let’s see.” He thought for a moment. “Seems to me the screaming woman was pretty. Rowdy, but the prettiest thing I’d seen in a while. A barrel—yes, I’m remembering now—and rapids?”

  She elbowed him.

  “Ouch—watch the leg.”

  “Let’s get out and walk.”

  “I can’t walk.”

  “A bit of exercise will limber you up.” Setting the brake, she looped the reins around the handle and stepped out. Coming around the carriage, she came to Jones’s side.

  “I’m not an invalid,” he reminded her.

  “That’s not what you said a minute ago.”

  He grinned and heaved himself out of the buggy, leaning on Trinity for support. He tested his weight on the injured leg and then straightened.

  “Better?”

  “Not too bad.”

  Looping her arm through his, she supported him along the uneven ground. “I want to show you something,” she said. She took it slow, matching his stilted gait.

  The fields had been stripped and the grasshoppers’ destruction was still evident, but the land was going to come to life again. Tonight the property had a calming feel, as though she’d come home. Rob had loved the land, poured his sweat and blood into the plowed fields and once-waving cornstalks. Tightening her hold on Jones’s arm, she followed the sound of water. Approaching the bank, she stopped. “It was right about”—she moved a couple of steps to the right—“here that we met.”

  His gaze roamed the area. “So this is where it changed.”

  “What changed?”

  “Life.”

  Laughing, she located a grassy spot. “Want to sit?” They sat down, surrounded by the night sounds. An owl hooted from a branch nearby. Frogs croaked. The rapids burbled in the distance, not so terrifying from this distance.

  “Well, your kin was right about one thing. It’s real peaceful here.” Jones lay back, resting his head on a root.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “What?”

  “Using a root for a pillow.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why are you lying there?”

  “I like to look at the sky.”

  Wiggling closer, she stretched out full-length and gazed at the stars with him. “This reminds me of another night.”

  “Which one was that?”

  “The night we were on the way here—for the first time. When Lil came and told us Pauline had collapsed.”

  “I remember.”

  It seemed like all her memories included him of late. They lay in companionable silence, staring at the heavens.

  “Did you ever really recover from that motorcycle ride?”

  She shrugged. “It took two bottles of Hostletter’s Celebrated Stomach Bitters, but my stomach finally returned to normal.” She rolled over and propped herself up on an elbow. “What do you think of the place? Still want to buy it?”

  “Haven’t seen anything but a path and this riverbank.”

  “Well, there’s a house—not in the best condition at the moment, but the railroad will tear it down anyway. Nothing fancy. Just a cabin. Two-story. Very old. It’s seen a lot of summer nights like this one.”

  “How many outbuildings?”

  “Four. For cattle and horses.”

  “Won’t it be hard to sell the land you grew up on?”

  “I didn’t live here. I was eleven when I was hired by a wealthy family to be a nursemaid to their two children. The mother was ill and didn’t live long. The father moved the children to California but I remained in Sioux Falls, where they’d lived. There was a wonderful woman there—Emma Lee—who lost her husband a few years back. They owned a small café, and she invited me to wait tables there. She’s been like family to me, but I fear she’s been overwhelmed with work. I’ve been gone much longer than I’d anticipated.”

  “Does she know you plan to stay in Dwadlo?”

  “After today she does. Before I went to the bank I sent her a wire informing her that my plans had changed and I wouldn’t be coming back.”

  He sat up slowly. “Are you sure about that? That’s a big decision to make overnight.”

  “Positive.” She sighed. “God’s taught me a few things lately.” She glanced over. “Things I should have known all along, but He managed to get my attention.”

  “Things like what?”

  “Like the fact that there are more important things than jobs or clothing. That family is one of the best things in life. I always thought I was happy, but I was only content.”

  “Nothing wrong with being content,” said Jones. “‘Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.’”

  “Philippians.”

  He met her gaze. “You know your Bible.”

  “I remember Rob reading me that verse. We knew we were in bad shape, but he said there were folks who were worse off and we needed to be mindful of that fact. Content is good, but there’s a whole big world out there. Had I not come here, I wouldn’t have found the missing ingredient in my life. I thought I was perfectly happy in Sioux Falls. I thought I’d stay there until my hair turned silver and I was stooped with age. But then Rob died and I had to come here and from that moment on my life changed bit by bit, every day, until I woke up one morning and decided that everything I wanted was in Dwadlo, not Sioux Falls. Friends. Family. Love.”

  “You been running low on love lately?”

  “Empty. But I didn’t realize it until I came to Dwadlo.”

  “I guess finding your father was a gift.”

  “Well, it certainly answered some questions. Pauline was the real gift. Wrapped in crinkly paper and a bit worse for wear, but she brought real family into my life.”

  “Cut your father some slack. He can’t be all bad. He didn’t have to return Sue.”

  “He stole her.” Lifting her face to the breeze, she spoke softly. “A father isn’t born. He’s shaped. He earns his children’s love and devotion. I just met a man who helped to give me life.”

  “Still, he is your father, and Sue’s a good horse. She’d have brought a handsome price.” His gaze met Trinity’s in the moonlight. “A man like James doesn’t ordinarily go around returning what he’s stolen.”

  “Apparently he knew what you mean to me.”

  Shaking his head, he spoke softly. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Talking like you and I have a future. I’m not marriage material. I’ve been on my own so long and I’d make a selfish, self-centered husband, Trinity. Good Lord knows you deserve better than that.”

  “Sounds like you’ve considered the prospect.”

  “Sure, I’ve considered it. Long and hard. Tied down to a wife and family…that wouldn’t work for someone like me.”

  “Tied down? How flattering. And I happen to disagree with your prediction of what you’d be like as a husband, but that’s for you to decide.” She decided it would be safer to switch topics. “So what about the property? Are you ready to buy?”

  His gaze traveled along the riverbank, roaming the moon-drenched river. “You don’t want to sell. This is a family home. It needs kids, laughter, people running through it—not rails. What I’m offering is a pittance for your heritage.”

  “Pauline has needs. And eventually I’ll require more than I have to survive. I’ve spoken with Belle and she might have a position open in the fall, but I can’t depend on that income.” Her gaze traveled to the river. “A while back I would have said I didn’t want this land and I couldn’t wait to get back to Sioux Falls, but I could learn to love this place. I just can’t afford to.”

  “I think you love it already. I won’t steal it from you.” He sat up and adjusted his hat brim. “If you want to sell to another railroad I can’t stop you, bu
t I can’t in good conscience buy this property.”

  “I thought you represented the railroad.”

  He shook his head. “I thought so too.”

  Sighing, she lifted her eyes and fixed them on the North Star. “It doesn’t matter. I have everything I want. Almost. Perhaps I’ll keep the land, perhaps not. At the moment, I am content.”

  “Love seemed to be real important to you a few minutes ago.”

  “I have love.”

  “You’re looking at me that way again.”

  “I am not. I’m looking at the sky.”

  “You were thinking of me. And if you take my advice, you won’t sell this property. The railroad will come through and rip out the fields and lay track. They’ll destroy what your kin found to be good and meant for future generations.”

  She turned to face him. “Don’t you think that love—real love—has been missing from your life too?”

  “We were talking about the land, not our feelings. A man doesn’t go around speculating on ‘real’ love.”

  “You don’t long to have somebody who finds you special? Someone who thinks that spending her life with you would be a blessing too big to contain?”

  “Until a few weeks ago I didn’t know you existed. And you wouldn’t have given a wooden nickel for me the day we met.”

  “You wouldn’t have either,” she countered. “You didn’t know I existed, but time changes things.”

  He reached for a flat river stone and threw it out, skipping it across the water. “Don’t sell, Trinity. One day that love you’re so dead set on will show up, and you’ll want this home.”

  Sitting upright, she tugged her bodice into place. “Then perhaps you might want to personally purchase the land.”

  “Me?”

  “You. No matter what you say, someday the right woman will come along and you just said this would be the ideal place to raise a family. A whole brood of little Joneses.” She giggled. “What is your given name, anyway?”

  “Does it matter?”

  It did to her. If she was going to marry the man—though he was yet to be convinced—she’d earned the right to know his name. “It matters a great deal. We’ve known each other all this time and I’m certain you have more than one name.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “What’s your name, Jones?”

  “Marcel.”

  “Oh.” Her tone dropped. “Marcel?” She floundered, struggling to keep a straight face. She shouldn’t laugh. She cleared her throat, but a grin escaped. “Well? Do you want the land or not?”

  “I don’t want it. Not without…”

  “Me?”

  “Stop twisting my words.” Grumbling, he struggled to his feet and hobbled off toward the buggy.

  “I’m going back to Dwadlo tomorrow!” she called. “You have time to reconsider!”

  “Not a chance! I have work to do.”

  “Your leg is still hurt. You don’t have to leave tomorrow.”

  “Yes.” He paused. Apparently she’d struck a nerve. “Yes, I do, Trinity.”

  His voice was tired and beaten. She understood his meaning. Either he left tomorrow, or he let his feelings overshadow grave doubts.

  She wanted Jones. Marcel. She shook the name aside. Jones. She wanted Jones, and she wanted all of him.

  Given a few days, he’d see that contentment wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  The station agent glanced up the next morning. Seeing the young woman standing at his counter, his brows shot up to his hairline. “You’re not going to change your ticket again.”

  “No.” Trinity grinned. “I’m traveling alone this morning.”

  Jones stood on the platform with her bag and the battered bank box. She was going home—to Dwadlo. She still owned her land, she didn’t have the deed, and she didn’t care. Life was good. And as soon as the train left, he would ride out in the opposite direction.

  Trinity could hardly take her eyes off him. Yes, they were parting, but he would be back. She couldn’t feel this way about him and not have him return any of the affection. God wouldn’t be so cruel. Jones was stubborn, but he would recognize that they both supplied what the other was looking for. Love. And he would come to claim it from her.

  They’d spent years building up solid walls around them. They depended on no one but themselves, feeding the empty holes festering deep in their hearts on foolish thoughts. Telling themselves that love and family didn’t matter.

  They did. Life was never lived to its fullest without those gifts.

  The sound of the train whistle brought her back and she left the counter. Jones waited beside the bag and bank box, resting on his good leg. He was in pain—she could tell.

  “Are you sure you can make the trip?”

  “I promise to take it easy.” He grinned and took her arm to escort her to the waiting coach. “You’ll let me know if you get the deed out of that box.”

  “If you don’t want to buy the land, why should I tell you?”

  “Because I want to know.”

  “I dutifully promise to inform you the moment I find the deed.”

  Pausing beside the rail car, he drew her into his arms. “If I kiss you goodbye are you going to read lifetime commitment into the gesture?”

  “No, sir.” She lifted her face. “I promise to react with as much cold indifference as I can muster.”

  “I bet.”

  “Just kiss me.”

  Their mouths drew close—so close—and she wanted him to hurry up but he took his sweet time. His gaze locked with hers. “I will admit that I’m going to miss you, Trinity Franklin.”

  “You could marry me right now, Jones, and save yourself a heap of trouble.”

  “I’ll marry you when—and if—I feel that would be best for your life.”

  “Who gave you permission to make that decision?”

  The final whistle sounded. His mouth closed over hers, warm and hungry. Snuggling closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. The world blurred, and for a moment she lingered in her own little piece of heaven.

  All too soon the conductor cried, “All aboard!” They broke apart. Leaving his arms was the hardest thing she’d ever done. He put a hand to her cheek, and she smiled. He would come to his senses. He would admit that what they’d found in each other was a new beginning.

  He had to.

  Twenty-Four

  Nothing in Dwadlo had changed.

  The train eased to a rolling stop a hundred feet from the platform to allow Esau safe passage across the track. The elephant slowly lifted one foot and then the other, lumbering across the rails as he crossed to the open field beyond the tracks.

  A plume of steam shot up and the engineer eased the cars the final distance to the station.

  Trinity was off and running, dodging Pauline’s dogs and cats, the moment the big engine stopped. She was headed for the mercantile, carrying her bag and the dented box.

  Mae stepped out to meet her, waving. “Where’s Jones?” she called from the porch.

  “Trying his best to outrun me!” She approached the store, breathless. “Pauline?”

  Mae opened her mouth to respond just as a solemn Benjamin opened the screen and focused on Trinity. She caught her breath and slowly lowered her bag to the ground. The air turned thick enough to slice with a knife.

  “She’s gone, hon.”

  “Gone?” Shaken to the core, Trinity blinked back hot tears. That couldn’t be. Everything had been going so well! Jones had left, but he would be back. She had the deed—probably. God couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Pauline die now.

  “When?” she managed.

  “Thirty minutes ago. She’s over to the church setting up weddin’ plans. I told her I’d go with her but she had Fisk push her in one of those newfangled things on wheels. Wanted to plan the whole shebang without me.”

  Trinity clasped her hand to her heart. “Oh my goodness, Benjamin, don’t ever say that Pauline’s gone without saying
where!”

  He looked sheepish. “Sorry if I alarmed you.”

  Alarmed her? He’d scared the stuffing out of her! She hefted up the battered box. “I got it,” she announced. She grinned when she heard Mae’s appreciative squeal.

  “You found the deed!”

  “Not exactly. Maybe. I’m not certain. I haven’t been able to open the box, but I will. We just need a key.”

  Mae nodded, then looked quizzically at the twisted metal box. “What happened? Did a train run over it?”

  “No. I tried to break the lock.” She shook her head. “There’s always the remote chance that Pauline will know where the key is located.” She shrugged. Even Trinity had to admit that wasn’t likely. “I’m going to the church to see her. Care to come along?”

  “Of course,” said Mae. “This should be good.”

  Pauline was fast becoming the town entertainment.

  They covered the ground between the store and the chapel that sat east of it. Trinity’s excitement grew. “So it’s true? Pauline’s agreed to marry Benjamin?”

  “It’s true! I wish you’d been here—it was so sweet. He got down on one knee and asked her to please marry him and she accepted. Said there was nothing to gain by playing hard to get any longer. She didn’t have the time or energy.”

  “Did she know what she was saying?”

  “She said she did.”

  A giggle bubbled up in Trinity’s throat. Soon—very soon, she prayed—Jones would reach the same conclusion. He had to. He would realize that once love struck there was little he could do but embrace it. Already she missed him like a warm coat on a cold night, but would it take him as long to come to his senses and welcome love as it had for Pauline? She didn’t want to wait seventy years for him to come back.

  The women matched steps up the church stairs, and Pauline lifted her head when the two burst into the sanctuary. Slowly she labored to her feet. “Is someone robbing the bank?”

  “No.” Trinity was appalled to see that she was dressed in the same stained pink housecoat she favored. “Tom should never have bought that for her,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “I know. But she takes such pride in owning it. It was lovely once—before she butchered a bull in it.”