“Blessing or curse – you decide what you want to be. We’ve all made mistakes. We’re bound to again. But if you think I’d strand you with anyone, then take your pick of who it’ll be and get yourself out of that chair and walk to ’em. Because the only house I’ll ever push you in is right behind you.”
“What is this?” Maggie sat down to the breakfast table.
“Piece of paper,” Ma muttered.
Todd’s smile stretched from one side of the cabin to the other. “It’s Monday. My turn for the love token.”
“Hmm.” The paper envelope rustled as she unfolded it. “ ‘IOU a lifetime of roses.’ ” She looked at him. “How touching.”
“I mean it. I telegraphed Uncle Bo, and he’s sending more of your legacy. They arrive tomorrow night.”
She squealed his name, and he swept her up. Later, Maggie tucked her IOU into her dresser drawer. It meant far more than a dozen roses. It meant Todd loved her – even if he was too blind to know it yet himself.
Over the next weeks, her hope grew along with the roses. Almost half the injured ones recovered, and the new ones flourished. Though he wouldn’t touch the roses whatsoever, Todd wandered by as she tended them and even plucked weeds as they’d discuss something minor. With water as precious as could be, he’d haul out bathwater for the garden and dishwater for the pigs – but each day, he left two buckets of fresh water by her rose garden.
After putting Ma to bed, he’d take Maggie for moonlight walks in the rose garden, too. What could be more romantic than that? He’d promised a lifetime of roses – and was sharing it day in and day out. Some evenings they traded memories of their pasts, others Maggie shared the tales that accompanied the roses.
“They’ve put down roots, Wife, and so have you,” he told her one night.
“Then plan on keeping the farm, plowboy.”
“Only if God wills and the price of wheat holds.” Letting out a soul-deep sigh, Todd said, “The balance is so close, one small tilt of His hand will make the determination.”
Maggie gave him a steady look. “Faith. I have faith in Him and in you.”
Wheat rippled in the wind. Sun scorched down on Todd, and tomorrow would do the same. He walked the field, reached out, and ran a head of the grain through his palm. Wheat and chaff. Useful and useless – just like all the labor they’d exerted to raise this crop. According to his calculations, when they finished harvesting, they’d make enough to cover the mortgage. By sheer grit and God’s grace they’d keep their land. But that was it. Wheat had dropped to fifty-five cents. Pathetically, shamefully lower than it had been in years and years.
A man ought to enjoy the fruits of his labor. But their daily bread was about all his labor yielded. He wanted more for Maggie and Ma. Especially Maggie. She’d worked alongside him, been the helpmeet he’d prayed for. Todd stopped. Surrounded by a sea of rippling gold, he was a pauper – but also a very rich man. Because he and Maggie would reap a crop of togetherness for years to come because of the time they’d spent out working together.
Lord, she’s the answer to my prayers, but I am not the answer to hers. I haven’t been the provider she deserves. I wanted to make enough just to add on a little room.
Loud rustling sounded nearby. He strode toward the noise. “Maggie!”
“It’s my turn for the love token. Simple as it is, I’m hoping it’ll hit the spot. How’s about a sip o’ sweet tea? I wish it were cooler, but it’ll still help your parched throat.”
He accepted the glass but tipped it to her lips first. “That sip was no more than a bird would take.” He tilted it again.
“I’m a magpie. And don’t you be forgetting it!” Flashing a smile, she stepped back just enough to avoid the glass.
A few long, steady gulps and he drained every drop. Rolling the glass against his forehead, he cooled off. “Ahhh. How did I live without you, Magpie?”
“None too good.” She laughed. “Not from the taste of the meal the one time you cooked!”
He looped his arms around her, pulled her close, and took a breath. “I’ve been looking at figures. Yours, I like. The ones for the farm, I don’t. Because of the extra crops and bartering, we’ll barely make the mortgage when the harvest is in.”
“I’ll thank you for the compliment, but I’ll beg to disagree with your disappointment. We’re holding on to our land. Someday our sons and daughters will play among these wheat stalks, and later help harvest them. That’s good by me. We’ll have lean years and good ones, so I reckon landing in the middle our very first year together is a success.”
“Being penniless is not a success. I will sell the horses to provide for the seed and staples next year. We can make it through that way. It’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.”
Wheat rustled all around them. She closed her eyes. “That’s music, Todd. I told you music is important to my people, and you gave me a wheat symphony, a whole season of listening to the soft brush of stalks. I learnt the pride of eating my daily bread, appreciating everything that went into the flour I dumped into my bowl.” Her eyes opened. “Things like that can’t be bought with cash money. And they can’t be bought with a broken dream. We’re keeping the horses. Furthermore, you’re mistaken if you think my love for you would change depending on the bank account. I didn’t marry you for money.”
“Good thing.”
She stepped closer. “I didn’t marry you for your land.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nay.” A coy smile tilted her lips as her skirts brushed his pant legs. “I didn’t marry you for your good looks nor for your strong back, neither.”
“Hmmm.”
“You know I married you on faith. With love.”
“I’m sure glad you did.”
Her hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders. “But I really married you . . .” An impish spark lit her features. “For Ma and apple pie!”
Encircling her waist, Todd lifted her high into the air and listened to her laugh. She might like the symphony of wheat stalks, but her laughter was the most beautiful music in the world. Slowly, he brought her back down and claimed a kiss.
Later that evening, Todd took Maggie’s hand in his and walked through her rose garden. In the very middle of it, he stopped. “There is something I want you to have. It does not come alone, though.”
“We have a crop to bring in, wonderful horses, and my roses are in bloom. My mother-in-law can find a nice streak every so often . . .
I love my husband. What else do you think I want or need?”
He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a ring. “The one thing that’s been missing from the start. A ring is a symbol of love. It has no beginning and no end. I believed there would be a beginning of my love for you, but I cannot look back and say for certain when that moment was. With your fire and your fierce love, you have captured my heart. This was my grandmother’s ring. I want you to wear it as a reminder – not just that you are my wife, but that I have come to love you.”
Tears of joy shimmered in her eyes.
“I prayed for a wife, and God used the worst of circumstances to bring about the most unexpected and best in my life. Serendipity is when happiness sneaks in unplanned. Serendipity I call it, when God brought us together. Karl knows silversmithing. Inside this wedding band, I had him inscribe serendipity. In our years together, we will look to see the touches of God’s love and grace in the unexpected places.”
He slid the band on her finger and kissed her.
“Come here, Woman. ”
She gasped as he lifted her into his arms, but that made it all the sweeter. Todd carried his love over the threshold, and everything in their world settled into place.
Twenty-One
Maggie’s world turned upside down. “Here? They want to start here with the harvest? That’s not the order you told me it’s supposed to be in. Why isn’t it at the Stauffers’?”
“Annie’s sick. After the influenza the area suffered last ha
rvest, no one wants to spread a sickness. Mr. White’s got summer complaint, so that makes it smartest to start here.” Todd hadn’t bothered to dismount. “You have two days, Maggie. You’ll have everything ready.”
Ma sat in the shade of the sod wall, fanning herself. “There’s a fine line between faith in a mate and foolishness.”
Hands on her hips, Maggie demanded, “You’d best tell me this is some kind of Texas tall tale or jest.”
“I am serious as a heart attack, Margaret.” He flashed her a bolstering smile. “All you need to do is have the food ready.”
Pushing her hair back from her forehead, she watched him ride off on Axe and shouted, “That line Ma just mentioned? You’ve crossed it!”
Three hours later, she arched and rubbed her low back. “I bet there’s a special place in heaven for farmers’ wives who don’t strangle their men at harvest.”
Laughter surrounded her. Linette and her mama, and Sydney Creighton and Velma from Never Forsaken Ranch showed up as soon as they heard the news. Sydney tacked on, “It’s right next to cattlemen’s wives who don’t shoot their men during roundup!”
Every last pot, pan, kettle, and crock Maggie brought from Carver’s Holler now formed an arsenal next to the sod wall. Ma held Sydney’s baby and snapped out orders to anyone in earshot. Velma kept adding to a list of who would bring different dishes and what Maggie needed to do. Since Valmer Farm didn’t have a springhouse, Linette’s mama took home all the coleslaw, cucumber salad, and potato salad they’d made.
Pulling her nine hundredth loaf of bread out of the Sunshine oven, Maggie shot Linette a glance. “Don’t know why I bother with the oven – it’s so blessed hot out here!”
Velma fluttered the front of her bodice. “Days like this, I know just how a dumpling feels when it’s dropped into the soup. Sydney, I’m taking you and the baby home. Can’t risk little Rosie getting summer complaint.”
“Donnerwetter.”
Maggie wheeled around. “Todd! You surprised me. What’s a-wrong?”
“Donnerwetter. Thunder weather,” John translated from beside him. He kicked the dry ground in disgust. “All this humidity, and not a drop of rain.”
The men helped Sydney and Velma into their buckboard, though Ma didn’t want to give up the baby yet. “It is only right that I hold her while you put bread into some sacks and have Velma store them for us at the ranch. We have nowhere to put it.”
John gave Linette a stern look. “You’re staying here for supper.”
“Am I?”
“Yep.” He nodded.
“Well, since the place is turned upside down, there’s only a seat for one guest. It’s awful nice of you to let me take it.” Linette kept a straight face.
“You’re not.” John sauntered over to his horse and mounted up. “I’m taking it. You’re sitting on my lap.”
“John Toomel, I’m not that kind of woman!”
Taking a moment to adjust his eyeglasses, John seemed in deep thought. “You’re right, Miss Richardson. But since you’re familiar enough with me to use my first name, I suppose I’ll just sit on your lap.”
Maggie murmured in a conspiratorial tone to Sydney, “I haven’t had woman friends. Is there something I’m supposed to say right about now?”
“If you know what’s good for you, Magpie, you’ll let me take care of this.” Todd declared, “You’ll each have your own seat. Maggie is sitting in my lap.”
Both men left. Linette slid a flour sack filled with rolls into the buckboard and added another of bread loaves. Sydney got her daughter back, and they left. Plopping down on a bench, Linette wailed, “I’m doomed. I’ve eaten half the bread we baked today. If I ever sat on his lap, I’d break John’s legs.”
Maggie quickly handed her a handful of crumbs. “A man with a broken leg would be easy to catch.”
Ma pointed at a flash of lightning in the distance. “Two . . . three . . . four . . .” The air rumbled with thunder. “Four miles away. That is God laughing at us. Dry lightning.”
Another flash of lightning struck, so Maggie started pushing Ma’s chair toward the house. “We’d best get inside.” Halfway there, Maggie whooped as more thunder rolled. It covered the sound of the approaching wagon until it was nearly upon them.
“Fire!” Velma yelled, fighting to keep control of the horses. “C’mon!”
Linette and Maggie looked at an ugly bit of smoke in the distance. Without exchanging a word, they scooped up Ma and heaved her into the wagon. Sydney clutched her baby and reached down. Linette grabbed hold and jumped.
“Maggie!” Linette screamed as the wagon careened away.
“Maggie!” The sight of smoke way over on the other side of the Whites’ farm made Todd’s guts clench. Fire. On the prairie, fire was every farmer’s worst nightmare. Nearly impossible to contain, sparks jumped from one field to the next, one farm to the next, leaving entire communities as nothing but ashes. In no time at all, his farm would burn – but not until he sent Maggie and Ma to safety. Todd wheeled around and ran from the field to the sod wall.
Every pound of his foot, every beat of his heart drummed with desperation. As he rounded the wall, the buckboard clattered off. Ma was in the back, but what about Maggie? A breath later, he saw her on the other side of where the wagon had been. Instead of just standing there, she lifted her skirts up to her knees and sprinted toward the barn.
“Maggie!” Todd rushed alongside her. He swept her along, away from the fire. Nothing else mattered. Only his wife. He begged God with every shred of his being to save her. His stride was longer, but it had never taken so long to reach the barn. She’d never outrun a prairie fire, but a horse would carry her to safety.
“Ride Wrench! Go! ”
Maggie had her fists fill of skirts, and she turned toward Wrench’s stall at once.
Assured Maggie would get away, he released Eve. Nuts and Bolts ran out, letting him know Maggie had to be mounting Wrench as he’d ordered. Adam didn’t need a crazy command. He bolted, too. Hammer ran through – but how had he gotten out? Todd bellowed, “Woman! Raus! Get out! GO!”
She had simple rope halters on Axe and Wrench. Todd threw her atop Wrench. “I love you!” He slapped the mare.
A well-trained gelding, Axe stayed just long enough for Todd to vault on. They followed Maggie, but only a short way. Turning for an instant, Todd saw the Whites’ fields going up in flames. Desperate after two dry years and poor crops, White had grown some of everything this year. And against all common sense and consideration, White worked his land right up to the fence. The extra-wide ring Todd plowed around his own fields to act as a firebreak wouldn’t be enough. One spark in the wind was all it would take, and there were millions. Spots of fire already began in areas of White’s cornfield – it and his wheat were all that stood between his and Todd’s place. In the distance, the church bells clanged wildly. Their sound would serve only as a warning. Men couldn’t put out a blaze of this magnitude.
My place next. Ours – Maggie’s and mine . . . Every hope, every dream . . . But Wrench carried Maggie away. She was safe. So was Ma. That was all that mattered.
Todd found he couldn’t turn away from the sight. The fire moved fast. The sticky, heavy air of the day changed to almost blistering waves of heat. Smoke didn’t just rise – it sent a dingy cloud in every direction. Each second, the flames grew in intensity and scope, consuming more of the corn. White’s horses ran past in a blind panic. Todd prayed he’d gotten his wife and kids out.
The roaring wind would send countless sparks in a firefly-like plague. Valmer Farm was bound for utter destruction, even with the wide firebreak rings about their fields. It wouldn’t stop there, either. Fire would take John’s crops, as well. Then the next farm and the next, all with ripe crops that provided abundant, dry tinder and a landscape where wind would wreak havoc.
Todd said another prayer as he set into motion. There was no choice. He ripped off his shirt.
Speeding toward Maggie’s new sto
ve by the sod wall, he scanned for something – anything that would work. One of the boards he used as a ramp to get Ma’s chair into the wagon – it would do. Todd grabbed it. Every heartbeat seemed an eternity as he opened the stove and wrapped his shirt around the end of the board. Knotting the sleeves to tighten it felt unbelievably difficult. He thrust the shirt end of the board inside where the fire was down to mere embers. How could time be so slow here, when in the distance the flames destroyed months of work in mere seconds? One bucket of water – he poured it over himself and his gelding, then a second. His bandana got soaked. Yanking it around, he covered his lower face. Scalding heat and smoke made it hard to breathe.
He’d never controlled a horse around fire. Everything in its nature – and his own – demanded flight. Todd gripped the rope with his right hand as his shirt caught flame in the oven. Firmly holding the board, he waited for a split second while Axe sensed his lead to veer to the right, then dug his heels in and shouted. His gelding tore off, carrying him on a mission of total destruction.
Lord God Almighty, keep Maggie safe, and help me!
Here, where Maggie brought him water so often, he touched down the makeshift torch and dragged it. All the way down the field, he set his own crops afire. Where Maggie spoke of the symphony of wheat, the wheat now caught and crackled with a sickening sound. Just a little farther . . . to the spot where he and John met for the first time. It was fitting. He’d give up everything he owned for his family and friends.
That was it. He shoved the remains of his torch into the stalks as behind him fire started licking at his barn.
Charred nothingness filled what had been an ocean of gold. Todd stamped out some glowing embers where his barn once stood. Tiny wisps of smoke spiraled into nothingness. From a distance, he could see Eve. It was a rare horse that would willingly go through ground still heated by a fire, but Eve would do anything for Maggie.
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