The Cowboy Comes Home

by Linda Ford

  Darkness had fallen by the time he left the barn. He tiptoed into the house, turned off the light Grandmama had left on in the kitchen, paused to make sure Pa was comfortable. When he saw his father slept, he trudged upstairs to his bedroom and fell, fully clothed, on the bed.

  The next morning, Linc woke with a pounding headache and headed down the stairs for a cup of coffee. Grandmama was up and the coffee perked on the stove.

  Grandmama looked at him and her eyes widened. “My word, what happened to you?”

  “Fell asleep in my clothes,” he murmured as he filled a cup and took several swallows, not caring that the hot liquid burned his tongue.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t ask.” He didn’t mean to be curt, but he had no desire to discuss how he’d made a fool of himself kissing Sally and then begging her to choose him. Yet he’d make a fool of himself again if he thought it would convince her to change her mind.

  Grandmama shook her head. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but at Linc’s warning glare, thought better of it.

  The coffee did little to ease his bad mood. He didn’t expect it would. “I’ll check on Pa.” He strode away, ignoring Grandmama’s questioning look. He couldn’t explain his mood to her.

  Pa twisted restlessly, moaning. Linc thought he was asleep, but his eyelids rose halfway at Linc’s entrance. Linc sprang forward. “You need your pain medication. You should have called. I would have given it to you earlier.”

  “Thought I could hold off.”

  “Well, don’t try it again.” His words were soft with concern. He administered the medicine then sat beside Pa, singing softly until the medicine did its work. He knew from the lines gouging Pa’s thin face that the relief was minimal. He hated to disturb him, but Pa needed cleaning up so he got a basin of water and washed him all over, as gently as he’d wash a newborn baby. He carefully rolled his father from side to side as he replaced the soiled sheets with clean ones. He took the sheets to the back porch and put them to soak.

  Grandmama waited in her Sunday best when Linc returned to the kitchen.

  He’d forgotten about church. “You go ahead without me. I’ll stay with Pa. He’s having a bad day.”

  “I can stay if you need me.”

  “We’ll be fine.”

  Grandmama touched Linc’s cheek in a loving gesture. “He’s fortunate to have such a loyal and caring son. I will be praying for you both. He doesn’t have much time left to make a decision.”

  Linc hurried back to Pa’s room, afraid to speak. If Pa had to die, all Linc wanted was for him to choose Heaven before he did. He picked up Pilgrim’s Progress and started to read.

  Pa interrupted him. “I like Sally.”

  “Good.”

  “Seems you do, too.”

  “Pa, she’s agreed to marry Abe Finley.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  Not near as sorry as Linc. He was grateful for an excuse to miss church, to miss seeing her sit at Abe’s side or seeing Abe sit up front, knowing Sally would soon join him. Not that he was glad for Pa to be suffering.

  “Son, you’re a good man. Never got into trouble like Harris.”

  Linc didn’t bother pointing out how Pa and Harris got into trouble as a pair. Neither of them would be doing so again. The future looked lonely to Linc.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” Pa took a deep breath that brought on a bout of coughing. “It’s not something I’m proud of.” More coughing cut off his words.

  “Pa, rest.”

  Pa nodded. “You’re a good man. You deserve someone like your ma to share your life.”

  Linc wondered what else his pa meant to say. But he didn’t seem inclined to try again, and Linc didn’t want to tire him. “Do you want me to read?”

  Pa nodded, and Linc read for an hour. Pa’s discomfort increased. “Let’s see if you’re more comfortable on your side.” He rolled his father and placed two pillows at his back. “Does that help?”

  “Some.”

  Linc rubbed the exposed shoulder gently. Pa sighed, finding comfort in the motion so Linc continued until his father relaxed. Then he slipped from the room, praying Pa would rest for an hour or two.

  He wandered the house, but it felt crowded and he strode out to the barn. He needed to do something. Something physical. He didn’t care to dishonor God by working on Sunday, but he had to do something to relieve the aching of his bones. He grabbed a shovel. A big old post at the corner of the barn had broken off and needed to be dug out. He drove the shovel in the ground and stomped on it. Over and over he lifted dirt from a growing hole. The post must be buried halfway to China. Whoever put it in the ground had meant for it to stay.

  Two feet down, his shovel hit something hard with a clang. He tried several different spots, but each time hit the obstruction. Likely a rock. He welcomed the challenge of digging it out. Soon he could tell the object had a flat top. Then he saw the corners were square. He dropped to his knees and leaned over to scrape away the dirt by hand.

  What he found was a metal box. He pulled it from the hole and stared at it. What was a container doing here? Had it been buried by accident? Something someone had lost? Or hidden? The lid was bent, and it stuck so he couldn’t open it. He went into the barn, found a screwdriver and pried the lid up.

  “No. It can’t be.” He sank to the floor and stared at the contents of the box.

  Sally glanced about the table. Abe sat at her left, in the place where Father would have sat, Carol on her right. Robbie sat on the other side of his father, Madge and Judd next to him. Mother sat at the far end of the table facing Abe. Everyone was there except Louisa and Emmet and their girls. Yet it wasn’t their absence she felt. Only one person’s absence blared across her senses, even though he’d never been in the Morgan home and likely never would be. Still, he seemed to hover like an invisible guest.

  Linc hadn’t been in church, either. Mrs. Shaw had stopped to speak to her and explained Linc’s father wasn’t up to being left alone. Sally wished she could tell Linc how much she cared about his father’s sufferings. But last night when she’d tried to comfort him, it had ended up in a kiss.

  Her cheeks stung, and she suddenly found it necessary to adjust the napkin in her lap.

  Mother stood at her place at the other end of the table. “Dinner is ready, but before we eat, Abe and Sally have an announcement. Abe?”

  Abe stood and cleared his throat. “Sally and I are going to get married.”

  Sally held her head high and faced her sister and brother-in-law. They would never have reason to suspect she had stolen a forbidden kiss in the secrecy of the Shaw barn.

  Madge’s look lingered on Sally, full of unspoken questions.

  Sally smiled.

  “About time,” Judd said. “You’ve got a prize in Sally.”

  Moisture pooled in Sally’s eyes, but she widened them. She would not cry.

  “I’m aware of that.” Abe squeezed her shoulder. “She’s proven herself very capable.”

  He appreciated her. Valued her. She wanted nothing more. Not promises of love to last a lifetime. Love was cold comfort without a roof over one’s head. Not that she was marrying Abe solely for that reason. He was a good man. A solid citizen. And what, a demanding voice asked, is Linc? Is he not a good man? A solid citizen? Of course. But he had no roots. As far as she knew, he planned to return to cowboying, and she’d listened to enough of his stories to know what kind of life that was. Following a herd of cows. Living on the range for much of the year. Where did that leave a wife?

  Abe sat down, and Mother asked him to say the blessing.

  Sally knew enough to bow her head immediately. At Abe’s amen, she realized she was only being foolish when her heart should be overflowing with gratitude. This was what she wanted. Had wanted for a long time—a man with stability. A man who would—

  Abe handed her the bowl of potatoes, and she took them with wooden hands.

  She’d been about to say
, a man who would make her feel as her father had. But what did that mean? Her father had cherished her, protected her, guided her. Is that what she expected from Abe? Would she get it? Would he love her like Linc did? Oh, how her wicked thoughts tortured her. She pushed them aside and turned to assist Carol.

  Carol ignored the offer of potatoes and studied Sally’s face. “Does this mean you are going to be my new mother?”

  Sally nodded. “But I don’t expect to take your mother’s place. No one ever should. Is that okay?” She would have preferred to discuss this with the children in private, but Abe insisted they hear the announcement along with everyone else.

  “I guess so.” She took potatoes and passed them to Mother.

  Sally turned to find Robbie glaring at her.

  “I don’t want a new mother. I don’t need one. You can be the housekeeper. That’s all.”

  Abe’s expression grew stern. “Robbie, you will apologize. Sally is to be your mother and you will behave.”

  Robbie glared from Abe to Sally and said not a word.

  “Robert Abraham Finley.” Abe’s warning tone was unmistakable.

  Sally knew how explosive Robbie could be. “Let it go for now,” Sally whispered, and received a look from Abe to match the one he gave Robbie. She instantly wished she could pull her words back.

  “He is my son and he will obey me.” Although he kept his voice low, everyone at the table heard him.

  Sally longed to melt into the floorboards. “Please, Robbie,” she whispered.

  Robbie must have felt sympathy for her discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry, who?” Abe prompted.

  “I’m sorry, Sally.” No mistaking the slight emphasis on Sally’s name, stubbornly informing one and all she would never be anything else.

  For a moment, Sally feared Abe would correct the boy further, but he let it go.

  “That’s fine.” He faced the others. “Sorry for the disruption.”

  There was a sudden rush of passing food and comments about the meal. Slowly the tension drained from the room, and Sally thought it might be possible to swallow a mouthful of potatoes and gravy.

  “Abe, you should have come to the party at the orphanage. Sally and Linc did an excellent job.” Judd didn’t seem to think it odd to link Sally’s name with Linc’s, but Sally’s potatoes stuck partway down her throat and would go no farther.

  “I saw their work at Robbie’s party and was impressed.” Abe smiled at Sally. “As I told her, I’m pleased she is involved in community efforts.”

  “Sally has always been the one to help others,” Madge said. “Remember how she took soup and covered dishes to the Anderson family for three months when the parents were so sick?”

  “I just like to help others.”

  “It’s your way of keeping things safe.”

  Madge’s words stung. As if she meant Sally helped others for selfish reasons. As if Sally had a need to control life. She didn’t. No matter what Madge or any of them thought. No matter what Linc said.

  “Maybe I help just because it needs to be done. Because God says true religion is to help widows and orphans. To share with others.”

  Mother cleared her throat, subtly letting them know they were not to argue.

  Thankfully the subject was dropped, but Judd and Madge returned to talking about the party at the orphanage, which did nothing to help Sally forget Linc. Heat stung her cheeks at the memory of that kiss. She hoped if anyone noticed, they would put it down to excitement over her engagement.

  The meal seemed to go on and on. Would it never end? Would they ever leave her in peace?

  Finally Abe pushed away from the table. “An excellent meal, Mrs. Morgan. Thank you.”

  Mother nodded. “I hope it’s the first of many, now that you are to be my son-in-law.”

  Sally wondered if maybe the roast had been a little off, though no one else seemed to be bothered in the slightest.

  “Children, thank your hostess.”

  Carol and Robbie dutifully thanked Sally’s mother.

  “It’s time I took this pair home.”

  Even Carol looked unimpressed with the idea of leaving. Sally understood they would have to play quietly in the front room for the rest of the day. Would Abe allow her to change any of his rules when they married? She guessed he would resist the idea. She, too, could look forward to Sunday afternoons confined to the house, reading or perhaps writing letters. Maybe she’d find a distant pen pal and write long, chatty letters once a week. Someplace exotic, like Africa or South America.

  Abe and the children said goodbye to everyone. Robbie made certain to give Sally a most fearsome scowl when he thought no one else was looking. Then they were gone.

  She grabbed the dishes still on the table, carried them to the worktable and poured hot water in the basin. Madge came to her side. “I suppose I should offer congratulations.”

  Mother joined them. “Indeed. This is a wonderful opportunity for Sally. Father would be well pleased.”

  Madge sighed as if she didn’t agree, but she kept her thoughts to herself, for which Sally was grateful. She wasn’t sure she could deal with any more doubts or questions at the moment, and kept her attention on washing dishes.

  Finally the kitchen was clean. Judd and Madge departed for home.

  Mother patted back a yawn. “I think I’ll have my Sunday afternoon nap.”

  A few minutes later, Sally was thankfully, peacefully alone. She glanced around the room where the family spent so many enjoyable hours, and realized she’d never felt more alone or lonely in her life. Of course she would miss the home she’d known with her parents and sisters. A certain amount of sadness was to be expected.

  The walls felt too close…the heat oppressive. She fled outdoors, her racing feet carrying her to the barn. Panting far harder than the short run should cause her to, she scrambled up the ladder. Her foot slipped on a rung, and she cried out. But she was safe and scrambled to the wooden floor, then made her way to the far corner. Every bit of hay had been fed to the cow, so she couldn’t build walls about her. All she could do was pull her knees to her chest and press her face to her arms, still out of breath and overheated from her run. She waited for her heartbeat to return to normal, then lifted her head.

  The loft door was closed, leaving the interior in gloom. A musty smell permeated the air. Pigeons cooed on the roof overhead. Sally tried to concentrate on every detail in a vain attempt to still the raging emotions inside her chest. Emotions she couldn’t understand or even name, but they roiled and twisted until she thought she couldn’t bear it.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “Help me.”

  But her turmoil did not ease. Was it guilt? “Forgive me for kissing Linc. That was wrong.”

  No relief came with her confession. Had she omitted doing something God expected?

  But what did God expect?

  To trust Him to take care of her.

  But she did so, to the best of her ability. She sucked in dusty air and coughed. She must work this out, straighten out her confusion. But the more she flung about trying to sort her troubling thoughts into order, the more tangled they grew.

  A rustling below drew her attention, then she heard someone on the ladder. She drew back into the corner, hoping she would be invisible.

  Madge’s head popped through the opening. She scanned the loft. “There you are. I thought I might find you here.” Not waiting for, nor likely expecting, an invitation, Madge climbed up and slid across the floor toward Sally. “We used to have a lot of fun playing up here.” She sank down to sit beside Sally. “Seems a long time ago.”

  Sally made a noncommittal sound, not wanting to relive the earlier, happier times.

  “Things have to change as we grow older.” Madge grew quiet and still. Neither of them spoke. But Sally knew it wouldn’t last. She could sit and keep her thoughts to herself all day long, but Madge never could. It was only a matter of minutes before she’d say what was on her mind, what had
brought her here on a Sunday afternoon when she could be with Judd.

  “Sally.”

  Yes, here it came. Not that it mattered. Nothing Madge could say would erase Sally’s confusion. Maybe there was no solution for it.

  “Sally, why did you agree to marry Abe?”

  “What?” The question startled a response from Sally. “It was the reason I went to work for him. You knew that from the beginning.”

  “But I’ve seen you with Linc.” Madge wiggled her eyebrows, as if to suggest she’d seen more than the two of them working on toys.

  Sally hoped the dim lighting hid the way her cheeks burned. “So what?”

  “Come on, Sal. You can’t be so dense you don’t feel the sparks between the two of you.”

  “Guess maybe I am.” The sparks meant nothing. They couldn’t. “What kind of a girl would I be if I agreed to marry one man while I harbored feelings for another? Father would certainly have had something to say about that.”

  Madge gave Sally a long hard study. “Do you think Father would approve of your engagement to Abe?”

  Sally nodded. “He’s a good man.”

  Madge shook Sally’s arm. “You can’t marry a man simply because he’s well respected. Nor because you think Father would approve. Sally, this is your life. Until death do you part. You have to listen to your heart in matters like this.”

  Easy for Madge to say. She always knew what she wanted and went after it. Likely she’d never entertain contrary feelings. But Sally felt as if her heart was in a tug-of-war. She simply couldn’t sort out the confusion. The only way was to choose the wisest thing and forget everything else. “I have to do what I think is best, and that’s marrying Abe.”