Prairie Song

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  Thus, his work done, the stake secured, the land as good as his and Kate’s, Cole could now only stand back and stare at the stake. In the day’s cooling breeze, the red strip of cloth tied around the wood unfurled and fluttered to life, much like a flag would. Overcome with satisfaction, Cole nudged his Stetson up and swiped his forearm across his sweating brow. Such a simple thing, that stake, to mean so much. All across this prairie land he’d seen some crazy things, as folks fought for the land they meant to claim over the objections of someone else who arrived in the same place at the same time. He’d already seen men shot and a few knife fights break out. He expected there’d be more, but he didn’t think he’d have any trouble.

  All for a plot of land. A week ago he’d thought these same people were misguided and foolish. But not now. Not today when he understood them and was one of them. Well, at least for the time being. He supposed that what happened after he got a home built out here for Kate and the kids would be up to Kate. The house. That’s it. Cole took a second to look around and wonder where the best spot for that would be. But after sighting on several acceptable locations, he decided to hold off, figuring Kate should have the say in that.

  He then chuckled, wondering what she would have thought of all the unlikely conveyances folks had used to make the run in. He’d seen folks chase across the million acres with covered wagons, buckboard wagons, landaus, surreys. On horseback, muleback, atop ponies, and on foot. He’d even seen a few desperate souls running along with their belongings in front of them—in wheelbarrows. But the most surprising—and the slowest—contraptions, the ones that had shied his roan more than once, had been the bicycles. Before today, he’d seen a few of them in his travels, and still thought of them as the strangest thing he’d ever seen. Weren’t likely to catch him atop such an ungainly invention, that much he knew.

  Just then, a sudden grin came to his face for no apparent reason. He put his hands to his waist and raised his face to the sun. The bright warmth bathed him like a benediction. And then he knew the reason for his happiness. He’d done it. It had been easy, and it felt damned good. He’d gotten the land that Kate had wanted—the same land that Mack Anderson had meant for his family to settle on. This was one good thing he’d accomplished, Cole told himself, and could always point to in his misspent life. He’d helped settle a territory and had settled his own family—by blood and by marriage—on it.

  Yes, he’d done it. And in a little bit, after he rested the roan some and got him to water, Cole knew he’d have to start back the same way he’d just come to go get Kate and the kids and fetch them back here. They’d all be so excited. He hoped Joey, Willy, and Lydia weren’t being handfuls this afternoon. Kate hadn’t looked like she felt good today. Not that he was surprised, given everything she’d been through yesterday.

  And yesterday’s events were another matter that still weighed heavily on Cole. Edgar Talmidge. Cole feared that Kate would never be safe as long as that son of a bitch drew breath. And here he still didn’t know what the man looked like. It’d been too dark last night to get a good look at him. But seeing Edgar Talmidge had been the last thing on Cole’s mind as he’d made his dive to bring Kate down and save her from being killed. Just recalling how that bastard had shot at Kate had Cole narrowing his eyes and succumbing, for a moment, to the murderous hatred that coursed through him.

  He’d remedy that little problem as soon as he got Kate and the kids out here. He’d have Kate describe the man and then he’d go find him and kill him—no discussion, no mercy, no sneaking up on him to do it, either. Right out in the open. Let the son of a bitch know why, too. And who. Cole knew there’d be trouble when he did. He couldn’t just up and kill a man like that—filthy rich, influential, tied to politics and banking as he was—and not expect the law to have a thing or two to say about it. But Cole had already made his peace with his decision to commit murder.

  Before, he’d given his targets a fighting chance, which they always took. But the law, if there’d been any in the area, had looked the other way. For one thing, the lawmen themselves hadn’t wanted to face Cole’s gun. For another, usually the men he’d sought were the scum and dregs of society, anyway, and their deaths hadn’t particularly upset the good citizens of a town. But not Talmidge. This one was different. A pillar of society. Cole made a scoffing noise. To hell with him. Talmidge was a walking dead man, as far as Cole was concerned. And once he killed him, Cole knew, so was he.

  But it didn’t matter. If he couldn’t be with Kate and the kids forever, then he just didn’t care where or how he spent the remainder of his life, no matter how short a time that might prove to be. He had to do this, had to call Talmidge to task for his evils—before the man got another shot at harming or finally killing Kate. It was true, sometimes wrong was just that—wrong. And it had to be stopped at any cost.

  * * *

  Several hours later, as the afternoon shadows lengthened and the day cooled, Cole could finally turn his roan’s head back toward the border area. He’d just registered his claim in the land office at the Guthrie Station. As satisfying as that feeling had been, he’d been more fascinated with what was going on around him. Cole shook his head again with the wonder of it all. Out of a grassy prairie had arisen a city of tents and actual wood buildings, which were apparently partially constructed elsewhere and brought in on the heavy wagons he’d observed unloading the various sections.

  Streets and general stores and homes and office buildings—all in one afternoon. Despite his pressing desire to get to Kate and the kids, and to assure himself of their well-being—and despite his impatience with the long line he’d been forced to wait in—he’d been dazzled by the sights around him, as was everyone else. But now, filling his mind were the obligations closer to his heart—again, Kate and the kids. He’d been worried about them all afternoon. But no more. Finally, it was time to do something about it, now that the roan had recuperated enough from its miles-long land run dash to carry him back home.

  Home? Cole frowned as he heard his own thoughts. Slowly his frown turned to a smile, one of loving acceptance. He chuckled and edged his Stetson up a notch. All right, then. It’s true. Kate is my home. Wherever she is, my heart abides. I’ll be damned.

  He suddenly laughed out loud—and realized folks were staring at him, and waving to him. Cole stared back. Who was that thin blond woman with a bunch of kids all around her? Then he remembered—Mrs. Jacobs from yesterday. The lady who’d seen to Kitty and had told Cole she knew Kate. Cole grinned and waved back, thinking, Well, how about that? It appears she’ll be a neighbor. Kate will like that, having a female friend so close by. Other folks, from the safety of their claims, also called out and greeted Cole. He realized he liked it, this feeling of being an accepted part of society, even a newborn one. He’d not experienced this before, not since he’d been a kid.

  That brought him around. He’d had acceptance before and had abandoned it. Now it appeared he would do so again. Cole sobered and set his gaze on the road ahead. There was no sense in getting used to being a part of something permanent, he reminded himself.

  But still, he had today. It was all he could count on, really, since he meant to end Talmidge’s miserable life very soon and would most likely get himself arrested, if not lynched first. What troubled Cole now was the realization that he probably wouldn’t be around to build Kate that cabin he’d promised her. At least there were carpenters and builders aplenty in the area whom he could pay to see the job done. Well, there it was—just one more detail. Having settled that for himself, and feeling that his affairs were in as good an order as he could get them, Cole put his heels to his roan, urging the rangy horse into a steady canter. He had miles to go, so there was no sense in wearying the roan now.

  But he hadn’t been riding long, and wasn’t too far out from the land he’d staked, when he hauled back on the reins and brought the roan to a stand. What the hell? It can’t be. He nudged his Stetson up and stared hard. Because if he was seeing what
he thought he was seeing, he wouldn’t have to wait at all to see Kate and the kids. Because they were coming toward him, riding at a fast pace atop two mules and waving and hollering. Kitty ran right alongside them, his long ears flapping in the breeze.

  Cole’s insides tensed, his heart thumped leadenly in his chest. Their being out here couldn’t be good, he knew that much. Cole dug his heels into the roan’s sides and rode out to meet them across the rolling prairie land. In only moments, he was abreast of them, his roan’s head even with Kate’s and Willy’s mule’s tail. Joey, atop the other mule, sat his animal on the other side of them. Kitty circled them all, barking and baying. Before Cole could say a word, Kate was leaning over and clinging to him … and crying. She looked like warmed-over death, white as a sheet and about ready to drop.

  Confused, stunned, hardly able to believe they were really here, Cole looked from one stricken face to the other—and yelled over Kitty’s excited uproar. “Joey, quiet that dog.” The boy instantly dismounted and called to the hound, who slunk over to him, wagging his tail as he sank down at Joey’s feet. Cole turned his attention to Kate. “Honey, what’s wrong? What the hell is going on? What are you doing out here? I thought you and the kids—”

  “Lydia, Cole.” Kate turned her tear-stained face up to him. “It’s Lydia. Edgar Talmidge has her. After you left, he found us. I tried to stop him—”

  “She did, Uncle Cole,” Willy interrupted. “But he and another man shot at us.”

  A murderous anger seized Cole. “He shot at you? At you two boys and Kate?”

  “Yeah,” Willy said. “And them men wanted Kate. But Joey told ’em no and to give Lydia back. But when they wouldn’t, Kate shot at ’em and they grabbed up Lydia and took off. We think they headed this way, too.”

  Rage against those men and fear for Lydia boiled through Cole, but Kate grabbed his attention by pulling weakly on his shirtfront. He looked down at her, meeting her gaze … and noticed the fearfully washed-out appearance of her green eyes.

  “You’ve got to find him. He has Lydia.”

  Not even asking himself why he did, just knowing he wanted her in his arms, Cole gently tugged Kate over in front of him on the roan. He held her tightly to him, wrapping his arms around her to keep her securely in front of him. “I will, Kate. Trust me … I will. But what’s wrong with you? Are you hurt somewhere? Did Talmidge—”

  “No.” She shook her head, her chin trembled … as if despair ate away at her. “I lost the baby, Cole. This morning.”

  Cole’s expression contorted with sadness and a surprising sense of loss. This baby had meant everything to Kate. “Damn, Kate, I never would have left you today if—”

  “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Then she clutched at him, pleading, “Please, Cole, I want to see my land. Is it far? Will you take me there now?”

  Cole went still and cold inside. It was beginning to sink in. She wasn’t sure herself she was going to live. Son of a bitch. Despair almost got the best of him. But pulling himself together, he set about doing as she’d asked. He turned to the boys. “Joey, mount up. And Willy, you keep up, too. We’re going to the land I got for you.”

  Joey vaulted up onto the mule’s back, righted himself, and then said, “For us, Uncle Cole. You got it for all of us. That means you, too.”

  Cole’s gaze locked with Joey’s determined one. “We’ll talk about it later, boy. Right now, Miss Kate—”

  “We know. She told us. She lost her baby.” Joey’s expression never changed, but he sniffed loudly. “We didn’t know until we were almost here, and she fell off the back of the mule.”

  “Ah, Jesus.” The words tumbled out of Cole. He held more tightly to Kate, who was softly whimpering now.

  “We did the best we could getting her here, Uncle Cole,” Willy added, always worried that he wasn’t doing the right thing.

  “You did fine, son,” Cole assured the little boy. “Just fine.” The goddamned ride nearly killed her, was the thought Cole kept to himself.

  With Kate held in his embrace, with his own heart in his throat, Cole turned his roan and told the boys to follow him. Having to proceed slowly, given Kate’s precarious condition, it took Cole a little longer than he’d expected to get them back to the claim. But finally, in the afternoon’s long shadows, there it was. The land. It was a somber, quiet homecoming. Kitty dropped under the nearest tree and lay there, his big head resting on his paws.

  Taking advantage of the same shade, Cole reined in his roan and kicked his feet free of the stirrups. With Kate still in his arms, he swung his leg over the roan’s head and slid down the horse’s left side. Then he laid Kate down on the ground, next to Kitty, who reached over and licked her pale, sweat-glistening face. Brushing the dog aside, Kate somehow found the strength inside herself to pull up onto her elbows and look all around her. Then she met Cole’s gaze. “It’s beautiful. Just like I knew it would be.”

  “Yeah, baby. It’s beautiful. Just like you.” Cole watched as Kate smiled and then sank back down, turning on her side and closing her eyes. Her outstretched arm supported her head. More afraid than he’d ever been, Cole called out, as always, to Joey. “Take my horse and your mules to the water, son.”

  Joey instantly dismounted and signaled to Willy to do the same thing. “There’s a creek—you can hear its waters now—on the other side of these oaks,” Cole told him. “After you boys drink your fill, wet down your shirt and bring it here so I can cool Kate down with it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Joey began unbuttoning his shirt. Cole then ripped off his Stetson and tossed it to Willy. “Here, boy, fill this with water and bring it back.”

  The hat sailed past Willy’s grasping hands, but he caught up to it and quickly plucked it up off the ground. “I got it, Uncle Cole.”

  “Good.” Cole ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “Now go on. Do as you were told.”

  The boys took off. Kitty hauled himself to his feet and padded after them. Only then did Cole turn his attention to Kate, the person he loved best in all the world … and feared losing the most. As if sensing their aloneness, Kate opened her eyes and managed a shaky smile for him. “Cole, I have something else to tell you.”

  Feeling tears clog his throat, Cole smoothed her hair away from her face and said, “Save your strength, Kate. You can tell me later.”

  She licked at her dry lips and swallowed. “No. I’ll be fine. I’m just … tired. All I need is rest. But there’s something I want to say.”

  Cole sighed, not wanting to argue with her. “All right, baby. What is it?”

  Kate blinked wearily and then, as if summoning the last of her strength, reached up, her hand shaking, to stroke his cheek. Overcome by the feel of her touch on his skin, Cole grabbed her hand and held it to his lips, kissing her palm. “Don’t leave me, Kate. I love you. Jesus, how I love you. I’ll do anything. I’ll—”

  “Cole … honey. I’ll be fine. I promise. Just listen to me now.” She looked him square in the eyes. “I love you. And I always will. All my life, I’ll love you, Cole Youngblood.” Speaking had taken all her strength. She wilted back down, weak and breathing shallowly … but breathing.

  She loved him. Then somehow … the rest would follow. With his heart all but bursting with joy and fulfillment, Cole couldn’t stop himself … he gathered Kate in his arms and sat down, his back against the sheltering oak tree, and just held her as he stared out over their land.

  Chapter Nineteen

  April 23, 1889, could very well be his last day on earth, Cole realized. Somehow that didn’t seem fair, now that he had everything in the world to live for. He had Kate … she loved him and was doing much better this morning. He had good neighbors … Mrs. Jacobs had been more than helpful last evening in seeing to Kate and assuring him that, yes, she was young and strong and healthy—and would live. It had been hard for Cole to go asking favors, his hat in his hand. But the Jacobses had thought nothing of it and had even brought a meal over for them last nigh
t and blankets for bedding.

  Then, this morning, Mr. Jacobs had come in his wagon to take Kate and the boys back with him to his claim … until Cole got home. Assuming he did. Cole had told the couple, out of earshot of their kids and his nephews, enough about what was going on so that they could decide if they wanted to accept the possible risk to their own lives, should Talmidge skirt Cole and make his way here. They’d assured Cole they’d have a care for themselves. Mrs. Jacobs had even pointed to the six-shooter strapped to her waist and said she’d take good care of those two varmints if they so much as showed their faces around here.

  Then, Mr. Jacobs had offered to take the boys and head back to the border to get Cole’s wagons before they got ransacked and looted. Cole hadn’t known what to say in the face of such generosity … but he’d finally agreed to allow it. And so, off they’d all gone. Thinking now, as he rode into Guthrie, of his nice neighbors—and liking himself for realizing that he’d have done the same for them in return—Cole turned his thoughts to his nephews. They were definitely among his blessings. They were good kids, knew how to take care of themselves. They’d be a big help to Kate.

  And he even had Kitty, Cole realized, thinking about the big old rawboned yellow hound. Probably a good hunting dog. All Cole knew was the dog loved Lydia. And that brought Cole around to what he didn’t have. He didn’t have his niece. His eyes narrowed. He wanted his niece back. He hadn’t slept much, not knowing where the child was or how she was being treated. Last night his only option had been to stay with Kate and the boys. Still, Kate had tearfully begged him to leave right then and go find Lydia. But he hadn’t. He couldn’t. Not with Kate so perilously sick. She’d needed him more, whether she knew it or not.

  Which meant that Cole had to accept that whatever had been done to Lydia, if anything, had already been done. His rushing off in the dark with no clue where to begin looking wouldn’t have changed the little girl’s fate. But truly, in his heart, Cole didn’t think that Talmidge would be stupid enough to harm even one hair on that child’s head. Because if he did, death would come instantly to him. Instantly. Kate had told Cole that Talmidge—whom she’d described to him, along with Hedges—hadn’t known whose niece Lydia was when he’d taken her. But Cole figured he probably did by now. Lydia would tell him. She had no problem making herself heard and her wishes known.