by Maggie Ryan
"God, if what I'm thinking is the truth, that's a huge burden for a little boy."
"It is," Roger agreed. "But he's got his ma, and he's got you to help him through whatever it is."
"And he has us." Turning, Matthew saw Anna standing in the doorway, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Please tell Sally that… they both have us… all of us."
"I will," Matthew said, and after retrieving his hat and the fishing rod, he accepted the blanket Anna handed him and the basket that Catherine had prepared.
"You wouldn't happen to have a spare bone, would you, Catherine?" he asked.
"I do," Catherine said, moving to a simmering pot on the stove. Using a long wooden spoon, she fished out a ham bone with plenty of meat still clinging to it. After pumping some water into the sink, she cooled the bone and then patted it dry before wrapping it in paper and tucking it into the basket.
Matthew thanked her and felt a clap on his shoulder. He nodded at Roger, bracing himself for whatever he would learn.
***
"This must be the spot," Matthew said after leading them into the woods. The small clearing was exactly as Roger had described, the creek bubbling over a few rocks but posing no danger of the rapids and boulders of the river. He helped Sally spread out the blanket over a bed of wildflowers. "Davy, there's a treat in the basket for King. How about you give it to him?"
The boy seemed to hesitate, as if he really only wished to sink back down onto his mother's lap, but when the dog bumped against his legs, his tail wagging, Matthew watched as the boy lifted the lid of the basket. King's tail wagged harder as the treat was unwrapped, accepting it with a woof of thanks before moving off a bit and settling down on the grass.
"That was nice," Sally said, helping to unload the rest of the basket's contents.
"That is one special dog," Matthew said. "Just sit back and let me serve you."
"No, I can help…"
"I know you can, but this is my treat to you, remember?"
She nodded and sat, Davy moving to sit on her lap. After dishing up the food that Catherine had placed in various bowls, Matthew said, "Davy, come sit between us. Your ma can't eat her dinner with you on her lap." When he saw Sally's mouth open, he shook his head, grateful when she closed it and actually helped the boy to reseat himself. "Thank you," Matthew said, handing them each a plate he'd filled. After making a third, he sat down. They ate in silence and he wondered how exactly he was supposed to broach the subject.
"Is there anything to drink?" Sally asked, giving him an idea.
"Sure, there's water," Matthew said, lifting the lid of the basket again and pulling out two glasses. "Davy, can you go down to the creek and fill these?"
The boy looked towards the water, and Matthew knew he was remembering the last time he'd been near a river. "After we eat, you can try out that fishing rod. I bet you might even see some trout when you get your ma some water." When Davy took the glasses and walked away, he turned to Sally.
"I need to know what happened. It's not my intention to pry into your life… well, I guess that's not really true. But I promise, I don't mean to upset the boy, or you, but it's obvious your son is dealing with a great loss. I won't ask you to discuss it in front of him if you don't wish to, but you do need to tell me. I can't help if I'm ignorant of what happened or what might trigger him."
Sally wasn't looking at him; her eyes were on her son.
"Sally, please. I-I… hell, I'd rather die than hurt either of you, but please, trust me to help you both."
"I-I do," she said softly. "You've already helped so much but it's not a pleasant story…"
"I know," he said just as softly. "But it's a story that needs to be told."
"Not… not now," she said, a pleading tone in her voice. "I promise I'll tell you but I just can't… not yet."
"Fair enough," Matthew said, keeping his eyes on the boy, "just answer me this. Where's Davy's father?" He didn't turn to look at her, holding his breath, praying she'd give him at least that much.
"Buried on the trail." The answer was so softly given but he heard it.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," he said, turning to her again as he saw Davy returning with the filled glasses. She nodded and he reached over to place his hand over hers. "Thank you for that, and I'll want to hear the rest soon."
He thanked Davy for the water and the three finished their meal. Matthew kept the conversation going by telling a few stories about life on the Rose Ranch. He was extremely pleased when Davy smiled hearing about the infamous Mr. Rooster. "I swear it's the truth," he said, shaking his head. "Agatha, oh, that's Mrs. Wilcox, can actually speak rooster. Mrs. Morrison, you remember, the teacher?" At Davy's nod, he continued. "She just bought a bunch of pullets, those are baby hens, and a rooster of her own. Don't know if she'll learn rooster but we'll have plenty of eggs on the ranch."
Unwrapping the last dish, he grinned. "Well, well… who knew you could make pie out of apples? Did you?"
Davy nodded and grinned as well. The three shared the pie and then he stood and took the boy's hand. "Ready to try out that new pole?" As Sally took the dishes to the edge of the water to give them a quick wash, Matthew and Davy dug for worms. Matthew held up a very long one, wiggling it at the woman, who gave a small shriek and slapped at his arm.
"Hmm, seems like your ma doesn't like worms," Matthew said.
"Not unless it's inside a fish," Sally said, pointing up river a bit. "Go away, both of you."
They fished for about an hour, catching but releasing two small trout. "We'll let them grow a bit and catch them later, all right?" Davy nodded and stifled a yawn with his hand. "Let's get you home," Matthew suggested, pleased that the tension he'd seen on the boy's face had disappeared. He had yet to learn what he needed but he was satisfied that for now, everything was calm. That lasted until they'd returned the basket and blanket to Catherine, retrieved Ranger from the smithy, and were standing in front of the mercantile where Buttercup still stood.
"There is no way I'm going to let you carry all of that," Matthew said.
"I can tie it on the back and Davy…"
"No, you can't expect to ride that far with a boy in front of you and a big box behind. It's not safe."
Sally looked at the large box of provisions that were at their feet. "Fine, I can ask for two smaller boxes…"
Leaning closer, Matthew spoke quietly. "Remember that promise I made?"
"Yes, that you want to help, but I can do this—"
"Not that one," Matthew corrected. "The one I gave yesterday? The one where I told you what would happen if I catch you doing something foolish or dangerous. Remember that one?" Her flush said that she did indeed remember. "Good, because, young lady, if you continue to argue with me, you'll be riding home on a very tender bottom. Is that clear?"
"Y-yes."
He leaned even closer to speak next to her ear. "Yes, sir, would be better." He could hear her breath catch in her throat and yet she managed to squeak out, "Yes, sir."
"Good girl." Standing back, he directed his next words to Davy. "Son, do you want to ride with your ma or with me?" Davy reached out and took his ma's hand, answering the question the only way he could. "Can't say that I blame you," Matthew said, "who wouldn't rather ride with a pretty woman than a scruffy old cowboy?"
It took a few minutes to transfer some of the box's contents to his saddlebags and then he secured the remainder behind his saddle. Helping Sally to mount, he then lifted Davy to sit in front of her. Once mounted, he turned to her. "Lead the way."
***
Sally kept stealing glances to the side. Matthew was unlike any man she'd ever known. He could have her smiling one moment, her heart filling at the genuine care he showed towards Davy, have her tummy flipping whenever his grin caused a dimple to appear in his cheek and, good Lord, have her bottom clenching when he quirked his eyebrow and spoke in that tone that she'd already learned meant he was serious. Perhaps she should feel guilty for having any of those feeling
s. After all, she'd loved Tanner, but he'd been gone for months. Perhaps others would consider her a harlot for having such intense feelings for a man she'd just met but she couldn't help how she felt. If nothing else, she'd learned that life was too unpredictable, too short to deny the joys that were given. If God hadn't meant for her to feel this way, then why would he have placed Matthew in that pasture that day?
"This leads to the gate of the Rose," Matthew said, indicating a road adjoining the one they were traveling on.
Sally nodded, having passed the road before. "It's not much farther before we turn off."
Another few miles proved her right as she led her horse towards a much fainter path. Mathew followed, their mounts having to climb a bit after just a couple of miles, the river visible to their right.
Knowing they were close, Sally wondered what he'd think of her home. It wasn't much but it was the best she could do at the moment. Besides, even if she made some excuse as to how she could continue on her own, she knew he'd ignore the suggestion. She watched King bound ahead, turning back to bark.
"It's just ahead," she said. They continued up the last incline before reaching a meadow nestled between two ridges.
"How on earth did you find this spot?" Matthew asked.
"Our wagon master helped me," Sally explained. "Mr. Morgan thought it would be good, and the moment I saw it, I agreed. I can see out for miles in all directions and there's water. It isn't quite as good for cattle as I'll have to pasture them below the meadow but it just felt right."
His chuckle had her looking to him. "You don't agree?"
"I totally agree," Matthew said. "Are you talking about Zachery Morgan?" At her surprised look and nod, he grinned. "He's a good man and he led you to a perfect spot. This is where he led us as well."
"Oh, that's… that's…"
"Perfect," Matthew said and she had to agree.
Urging Buttercup forward, they came to the copse of trees where she and Davy had made their home. If Matthew was surprised to see a covered wagon instead of a cabin, he didn't say a word. Instead, he dismounted and draped Ranger's reins over a low hanging branch before moving to take a very drowsy little boy from her. Once he had Davy in his arms, Sally dismounted and led Buttercup to where her foal was waiting, the two making her smile as they nuzzled each other.
"This way," she said, wanting to put Davy down before unsaddling the horse. Matthew carried him to the wagon and, using the empty crates she'd placed, he stepped up and inside. Sally joined him, turning down the covers on the small pallet they shared, and once Matthew had tucked Davy between them, she watched as the large man brushed his lips across her son's forehead. The simple act again tugged at her heart and she repeated the gesture. "Sleep well. I love you, little man."
Matthew handed her the box of supplies after refilling it from his saddlebag. "Why don't you put those away while I unsaddle and water Buttercup. Then we'll talk."
Knowing it was time, she nodded. By the time he'd hobbled the horse and had watered his own, she had coffee ready. Pouring them both a cup, she came to where he'd taken a seat against a large tree, his back against its trunk. Sinking down, she took a few sips of the dark brew, smiling a bit because his help had allowed her to be able to purchase sugar, as well as additional items without feeling guilty, and then, holding her cup in her lap, she began to tell her story.
Chapter Eight
"We lived on a small ranch outside of Oakwood. That's about twenty miles or so from Crooked Creek. Tanner was out in the field and Davy and I were in the barn. Buttercup was about to foal, and we were so excited. Davy had been thinking of names for months. I should have known something was wrong when she started prancing about and pawing the ground. Her ears were laid back and her eyes were rolling. I thought it was because she was about to give birth, and feared that maybe she knew something was wrong about the foal's position or…. I don't know, but she started kicking at the stall door so I couldn't send Davy for his pa to help." Sally paused, no longer seeing the meadow or the man beside her, but visualizing Buttercup in her stall.
"Then I heard it… it sounded like… like the devil screaming. The boards on the barn started pressing inwards, like a giant was leaning against the outside, and then the roof was torn off as if he'd simply opened the lid of a box to see what was inside. I don't know how we didn't get squashed, because Buttercup was trying so hard to get out… all the stock was fighting, kicking, trying to run. I finally managed to get the latch of the door undone and she tore it off the hinges when she ran. Boards were flying like toothpicks, hay was thick in the air, tools were torn off their hooks as I opened the stalls. The animals ran and I wondered where they could find safety but knew it wasn't in the barn. Davy fell trying to follow but I managed to grab him. God, it was like trying to walk while pushing against a brick wall. I couldn't see for my hair whipping in my eyes, my skirts flying up, my ears feeling as if they would burst at any moment. And then, as if they had burst, I couldn't hear a sound. It was as if I'd been struck deaf and I was so grateful for the silence. I-I don't even remember hearing the barn collapse behind me…"
Matthew didn't speak but he set his cup aside and then hers as well, pulling her to sit on his lap. She sank against him, still lost in that day.
"Then the rains came. God, I've never seen such rain. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face, sheets of water fell, drenching everything in moments. I knew I wasn't deaf when the thunder began rolling…" She glanced up at him. "My ma used to say thunder was God's laughter at jokes the angels would tell. It's not. It's the Devil's voice and… and lightning is his toy. The sky was sickly green, the air too thick to breathe, and the lightning just wouldn't stop. It danced in the sky and then exploded as it struck the ground. I-I could feel the earth rumbling under my feet. I was absolutely terrified and yet mesmerized at the sheer power of the storm. It-it was like the four horses of the apocalypse were charging across the fields, absolute destruction their goal. I fell to my knees in the mud, too terrified to even attempt to get out of their path. The rain turned to hail and I couldn't believe the size of the stones when they struck me. All I knew was that if they hit Davy, he could be seriously injured. God, he was trembling so hard in my arms but I couldn't let go.
"The entire world became black… and I saw two funnel clouds drop from the sky, tearing up everything in their paths. I was sure the world was coming to an end. Lightning bolts… I don't know how many… hit a huge tree and it burst into a huge ball of fire. Limbs shot off in all directions, one almost struck me, and it took me a moment to realize some had fallen onto the house. Within seconds all I could see was a wall of flames."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks and yet she was totally unaware of them falling. Her voice was so soft as she said, "It was if every soul in hell was rejoicing, playing havoc with the world that had condemned them for all eternity. Screaming. Shrieking. Crying. God, I wanted to be blind… to be deaf again. All I could see was devastation; all I could hear was destruction."
She only became aware that she was sobbing when she couldn't seem to breathe, her attempts to drag in much needed oxygen futile. Her chest felt as if the arms holding her were suffocating instead of comforting. Her struggles to sit up had the hold loosening, her chest heaving as she took in huge gulps of air, choking them down as her sobs fought to get free past the blockage in her chest.
"Shhh, just breathe, honey," Matthew said softly, moving his hand to stroke down her back, soothing her as he would a frightened animal. "Shhh, shhh. Just concentrate on breathing… in and out, in and out." As he spoke, he took exaggerated breaths, inhaling and exhaling loudly, using his body to instruct hers. Gradually, the sobs died and she could breathe again. "That's good, just like that," he said, continuing to breathe deeply and rub her back until she finally gave a small nod, her breath hitching and yet no longer struggling. His arms tightened around her and he spoke softly. "Can you go on?"
Feeling a desperate need to tell him, she nodded but still sa
t for a few moments, taking a breath each time he did.
"It seemed like a lifetime and yet only mere seconds. It didn't seem possible. How could something burn so hot… so fast… when it was raining? It was like trying to spit on a bonfire to quench it. The house was engulfed in mere moments but all I could think about was Ma and Clara. I remember running, falling with Davy, and getting up. I was so terrified I'd find they'd not gotten out. I remember praying like I've never prayed before, promising God I would do whatever he wanted, be the best daughter ever born, the best wife, the best mother if only he'd spare my family. But… but I'd forgotten that God wasn't in Oakwood that day. Instead, Lucifer had come to play, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe our existence from the face of the Earth."
"Oh, God… no… oh, honey," Matthew said, his cheek against the top of her head.
"Ma ran out and I was so thankful. Clara came next and I screamed but she yelled for me to stay back. They got out but… but they weren't fast enough. The tree that Davy's grandpa had planted when Tanner was no older than Davy wasn't yet through dying, and… and the devil decided it would have company. It fell on… they… they disappeared. I-I just stood there… screaming, I suppose, as my world ended. And then-then just as quickly as it appeared, the storm ended. The tornado funnels just lifted up off the ground where they had been dancing their jigs of death and disappeared. The hail and rain stopped, the sky… God, it turned the prettiest blue and the sun started shining. I remember wondering how stones from hell could glisten like diamonds with the sun's rays hit them. I could see Tanner running towards us but I-I didn't believe it was truly him until Davy screamed for me to let him go.
"We dug through the tree branches and… and found Ma. She was… gone and Davy, my little boy, just lay there, holding her and begging for her to get up. Clara was unconscious but breathing. I don't know how long we'd been there but wagons started coming and I-I wasn't strong enough. I collapsed when my child needed me… I didn't wake up for two days."
