by Jill Maguire
Main Table of Contents
Harboring Hope
Marrying Mercy
Choosing Charity
See What’s Coming Next….
Harboring Hope
Copyright 2016 © Jill Maguire
Prairie Wind Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted by any means - electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise without written permission from the author/publisher.
Chapter 1
The train cars lay scattered against the arid Wyoming landscape as if a toddler had discarded his unwanted toys. Smoke billowed all around and some of the cars were still on fire. The air smelled of diesel and charred metal as dark fluid, dripping from the undercarriage of the train stained the grass at Luke Boone’s feet. He surveyed the wreckage and slowly sifted his way through the destruction. He had seen Sherriff McCabe ride away towards Whistle Stop with a woman and a baby, but was surprised when the authorities never came back to do a more thorough search. Luke dismissed his thoughts about the depravity of human kind, the same ones that haunted him since the death of his parents. Orphaned at 10-years old, Luke now trusted the animals of the wild more than the wilds of humanity, often scavenging, much like a vulture, for the necessary items he needed to survive in the woods, alone in his cabin. A train derailment would provide plenty – food, clothing and other curiosities.
Then, he heard a soft moan and was distracted from his search. Luke slowly turned and surveyed the bodies, flung from the train cars and strewn around him. His eyes fell on an older man with graying reddish hair, clearly no longer living, and not far from him a young woman, blood trickling from a wound on her head. Luke took a step closer to the woman, moving quietly in order to better listen for another sound. The young woman moved slightly as Luke bent over her to feel for a pulse. It was faint, but her heart was surely beating. Luke held the back of his hand over the woman’s mouth and felt her warm breath. She was alive.
The first thing Hope inhaled was a musty, rich smell of earth and trees, mingled with the bright scent of peppermint. Something vague hearkened from the back of her mind, but slipped away before Hope could grasp what it was. Then the pain settled in on her consciousness with full force and Hope groaned. Her head felt heavy and thick, as if she were swimming slowly up, trying to reach the surface. Finally, she slowly opened her eyes. Her eyelids felt dense and swollen and they grated over her eyes like sandpaper. She groaned again. Though the light was dim, things slowly came into focus. A candle burned on a small table nearby and in the corner, a small fire provided little light from its ramshackle stove. The room she was lying in was small and dilapidated, but the few things in the room were pleasant and the area was tidy.
Hope caught a glimpse of trees out the window. The sun was just beginning to fade and through the waning daylight, she saw not just trees, but an entire forest beyond the pane of glass. She tried to prop herself up to have a better look around, but every single part of her body screamed in protest. Her head pounded fiercely and she found she could hardly move her limbs at all. Fear seeped in suddenly. Where was she? She realized then that she was all alone.
As she glanced about, as much as her sore eyes would allow, Hope saw no one, nor heard any sound. Confusion trumped all reason in her mind and she searched the cabin frantically for something she would recognize. But nothing was familiar. All knowledge of where she had come from, or what caused her to be in so much pain terrifyingly eluded her.
Hope looked down at her hands and at her soft auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders and rested against her arms. Hope’s fear compounded. Nothing looked familiar, nothing felt right. She was alone, frightened and confused. Where was she? But more importantly, who was she?
Chapter 2
Luke Boone returned from checking his traps as soon as he could. He left the two rabbits he had caught in the buried chest outside his cabin and quietly entered, tiptoeing toward the strange young woman lying on his bed. He was startled to see that her eyes now stared back at him with fear.
“Miss, you’re awake. I never meant for you to wake up alone here in this strange place.” Luke spoke softly but felt helpless about how to make her feel less frightened. The woman’s eyes were wide, her breath was shallow and quick. “My name in Luke Boone. I won’t hurt you. I brought you here to help you. What’s your name?” A desperate look of concentration crossed the woman’s face before tears slipped slowly from her eyes and mingled with her hair.
“I – I don’t know. What happened? Where am I?” The words came out but they were barely more than a frantic whisper. Luke tried to calm her.
“Hush now, it’s alright. It’s going to be alright. You say you don’t remember your name?”
The woman simply shook her head wincing in pain with each movement.
“Alright, alright. Stay still. You’re lucky enough to be alive and I’m not surprised you can’t remember a blessed thing.”
Luke studied the woman for a moment and sighed as tears continued to trace themselves down her cheeks. Luke was uncomfortable with the woman’s display of fragile emotions and quickly turned away. “Hungry?”
Luke stepped toward the woodstove preparing to fix the woman some rabbit stew. “You must be hungry. Lord knows how long you were out there.” Luke spoke quietly into the silence as much to steady his own racing thoughts than to put her at ease. What was he going to do with this woman?
Turning back to the woman lying under the woven blanket on his bed, Luke found his heart softening at the sight of the many cuts and bruises covering her face and arms. The gash on her head, which he had bandaged, had been severe and now to realize that she had no recollection of the accident or who she was? Luke was at a loss.
“Here we are.” Luke attempted to sound cheerful as he presented the woman with a bowl of the finished stew. “Can you sit up a little?” The woman shook her head ever so slightly. “Alright then, I’ll help you take a few sips.”
Luke gently sat next to the woman’s head and fed her stew through her barely parted lips. But after a few bites the woman sealed her lips and shook her head.
“No more, please,” she whispered.
“Oh, but you need some sustenance, ma’am, it will restore your strength,” Luke argued.
“Perhaps later, thank you.”
Luke helped the woman get comfortable and gathered himself from the bed. He took up his own bowl and sat watchfully in the chair next to her. The woman had closed her eyes and was taking in deep breaths, making Luke believe she may fall asleep again. He was startled out of his own reverie when she spoke, her voice a little louder but still ragged. It was painful just to listen.
“Sir, when you were helping me eat I felt something in my pocket.” The woman slowly inched her hand below the woven blanket that was covering her and searched through the folds of her skirts. Wincing, she pulled out a small leather-bound book.
“What is it?” Luke asked, setting aside his empty bowl.
“I don’t know,” the woman admitted quietly as she attempted to push the book to the edge of the bed towards him.
“May I?” He asked kindly before opening it.
“Please.”
Luke opened the book and scanned the first page. It was covered with words written in a lovely, flourishing handwriting.
“It appears to be a journal, miss.” Luke turned back to the cover page which offered the words: This book is the property of Hope
Sutton. A smile grew across Luke’s rough face and his eyes met those of the woman in front of him. “Well, we’ve solved one mystery. Your name is Hope.”
A spark of light shone in Hope’s brilliant green eyes as recognition dawned. A light smile played on her lips and Luke caught sight of a small dimple on her left cheek. She was a beautiful woman when she smiled.
“Well, Hope,” Luke began.
“Read it to me?” Hope whispered, cutting off his thoughts.
“I’d be obliged to if that’s your wish.”
“Oh, yes, please. It is my wish.”
Luke smiled and willingly opened the book to the first page once again. He read the date in the right corner and told Hope the entry had been written about a year prior. Slowly he started reading.
It’s been two weeks since mother passed and until this day I have not been able to set pen to paper. Somehow, seeing the words in stark black and white make it even more real that Ma is gone. Everything happened so quickly. She fell ill, but the doctor seemed hopeful, then one night, she was gone. Forever gone. I hardly know how father and I will manage without her but by far the hardest part has been seeing father grieve. He loved mother so. She has been his loving companion for thirty years, and now. . . Oh dear, I wish there was anything I could do to alleviate his pain. I know not what to do, or say, and then my own grief overtakes me. How will we go on?
Luke cleared his throat and hesitated to look up at Hope. He felt as if he had just intruded on something very private and sacred. Finally, Luke closed the book and raised his eyes when he heard Hope sniffle softly.
“Do you remember her?” Luke whispered into the silence.
“No, I don’t remember anything,” Hope whispered back. “I’m very tired. I think I’d like to go to sleep now.”
“Of course, here is another blanket.” Luke gently laid another heavy blanket over Hope’s broken body and aching heart. “I’ll keep the fire lit. It can get cold at night.”
“Thank you,” Hope whispered without meeting his eyes. Luke left her side and returned to the soft flickering fire.
Hope lay awake for some time in the darkness, the strangeness of remembering nothing about her life or who she was wrapped around her with a suffocating presence. She felt as if she was completely lost at sea with no anchor or land to ground her. Then to learn she had no mother, a mother she couldn’t remember? Would she ever remember? And what happened to her father?
Hope tried to quiet the questions and fears racing through her mind and ignore the pain that ripped through every inch of her body. But it was no use. Hope heaved a heartbreaking sigh and allowed the tears to soak her cheeks.
“Hope?” The low voice sought her out in the darkness, startling Hope somewhat but oddly comforting her at the same time.
“Yes?” Hope whispered.
“Can you not sleep?”
“I’m afraid not.”
There was a muffled silence that floated through the room and then the man spoke softly again. “Is it the pain?”
Hope sobbed at the kindness in this strange man’s tone. She heard him rise and shuffle around the small, one-room cabin and soon Hope heard water boiling on the stove.
“Here, miss, drink this.” Luke stepped from the shadows and Hope’s eyes met his. “It will help you sleep.”
The familiar pain shot through Hope as Luke tenderly propped her up and helped her drink the hot tea. He guided the cup to her lips and after a few tiny sips, slowly lowered her down to her pillows again. Hope was grateful for the man’s generosity, respect and kindness, but the feelings of pain and delusion were overwhelming. She opened her lips to offer quiet gratitude, but drifted off before the words could find their way out. A heavy, comforting cloud engulfed Hope and she fell fast asleep.
Chapter 3
Hope slept late the next day, for which Luke was thankful. He knew she needed rest more than anything. He worked quietly around the cabin, but didn’t stray far and checked on Hope often. Luke had promised himself the night before that Hope was never to wake and find herself alone again.
As Luke was preparing a simple lunch he heard a light moan from the bed and turned to see Hope’s eyes flutter open.
“Good morning, ma’am.” Luke spoke softly as Hope’s weary eyes came to rest on his face. A confused look crossed her features and Luke worried for a moment that she no longer remembered who he was.
“Good morning, Mr. Boone,” she said simply. Luke turned back to the stove as a smile stole unbidden over his face.
“Are you hungry for some lunch?”
“I am, a little.” Hope attempted once again to prop herself up and with what appeared to be a colossal effort, she managed to sit up against the wall behind her. She leaned her head back momentarily and took several deep breaths.
“That’s an improvement from yesterday,” Luke said as he brought over a plate of food for Hope, “And please, call my Luke.”
“Thank you Luke.” Hope took the food and began to eat slowly. “What was in the drink that you gave me last night?” Hope asked as if suddenly remembering the events of the night before.
“It was just a few herbs to help you sleep and relieve your pain. I can give you more if you’d like. You should probably get as much sleep as you can right now, let your body heal.”
The two strangers ate silently for a while and Luke secretly studied Hope as she focused on her food. The cuts and bruises covering her face and arms had not healed much since the previous day. Both of her eyes were swollen slightly and still bloodshot from the exposure to the smoke and her long, wavy red hair was matted and tangled. The bandage around the wound on her head was dark with dried blood and Luke sighed, quietly accepting that it would take some time for her to heal fully.
“I should redress those wounds.” Luke stood and took the dishes to the washtub. He took a few glass bottles from a shelf in the kitchen area and found some fresh cloth. Then Luke made a new herbal tea which he took with his other supplies to Hope’s bedside.
“This may hurt a bit, but if you drink this tea it will help deaden the pain and keep you relaxed.”
Hope took the cup from him without a word and began drinking. He wondered if the glint in her eyes was from unwarranted tears, or simply a catch of the light from the window. After a few moments Luke began his ministrations on Hope’s arms and face, covering every cut and bruise with his homemade ointments. Hope lay silent with her eyes closed.
“Now, I need to remove your head bandage,” Luke said.
“My, what?” Hope asked as she slowly lifted her hand to feel the bandage wrapped tightly around her head. “Is this why I can’t remember anything?”
“I reckon,” Luke replied.
As gently as he possibly could, Luke unwrapped the stained cloth. He kept his face stony when the wound was exposed. It was gruesome to behold, though Luke had cleaned it well the day before. Blood had seeped around the edges and dried grotesquely onto Hope’s forehead and in her hair. But Luke betrayed none of this, not wanting to alarm Hope.
Luke cleaned the dried blood away and applied a new layer of antiseptic to the wound. Hope stayed very still and quiet, though her complexion had gone white to her lips. Working more quickly, Luke wrapped a fresh bandage around Hope’s head and helped her to lie back again.
“You should rest now.” Luke’s words came out more gruffly than he had intended but the drastic change in her pallor made him uneasy.
“Thank you,” Hope whispered, sinking down into the bed. She was immediately asleep and breathing evenly and Luke was pleased when she slept the rest of the day and through the night.
Luke applied his ointments to Hope’s skin a few more times without disturbing her and found the more attention he gave the cuts and bruises, the quicker they began to heal.
When Hope woke late the following morning, Luke was pleased to see that color had come back to her cheeks. For the first time, he noticed how the natural pinkness of her skin set off the emerald shade of her eyes.
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“You slept well?” Luke asked, trying to instill more kindness into his naturally brusque voice.
“I guess I must have,” Hope said thickly, glancing around the cabin. Luke brought more food to Hope and sat next to her, pulling out her journal again.
“I’ve been thinking, if it’s alright with you, perhaps we could continue reading this together. You may find things come back to you through your entries, memories or recollections.”
Hope merely nodded and continued to eat as Luke began.
It has been two months now since Mother passed. Father seems to be drowning in grief and I hardly know what to do for him, poor man. He hasn’t been able to work through his sorrow yet and things are beginning to get harder. I have to help him come around somehow. We can’t continue to live like this. Are we to end up bankrupt?
“Then you wrote two weeks later,” Luke said, moving on to the next journal entry.
Father is a dear. I spoke to him about his grief and about continuing to live our lives without Ma. All we have now is each other. I told him that I needed him to be my father now more than ever. He apologized for being so distraught these past weeks, after which I assured him that I needed no apology. We’re both grieving for mother, and we can support each other.
Luke broke off, not able to read more. How was he ever going to tell Hope about her father? He was obviously the man left behind in the wreckage. The man who had clearly been claimed by the tragic train accident before Luke had arrived on the scene. Luke looked up and noticed tears rolling down Hope’s cheeks.
“Do you remember your father?”
“No, I don’t,” Hope shook her head slowly. “I don’t remember anything. I still don’t remember who I am.”
Chapter 4
Hope absorbed the information brought forth from her journal in a rush. She did not know what to make of it all. According to her entries, she was close to her father. But where was he? How did she end up here, alone, in this condition? For the first time it dawned on her pain-fogged mind to ask Luke what he knew. Surely he brought her here, but from where?
