Mary Bridgette

by Danni Roan

  Eric looked around him at the men, women and families as they made their way toward carts and buggies ready to head home.

  “I think that would be a good idea,” he said. The quiet young man could see the value in those with shared experiences taking time together and finding hope and comfort in each other’s company. “I’ll talk to the pastor, and we’ll make an announcement next week.”

  Mary smiled noting Joan’s nod of approval as she gathered her children and made her way to the wagon. Healing would take time, but it could be had if the men who understood would find the strength to share.

  Within two weeks the small building was packed on Wednesday evening with those who had served filing in hesitantly at first then with more confidence.

  Mary had prepared coffee and doughnuts hoping the simple act would make everyone feel more at ease and the smiles that thanked her proved it was the right thing to do.

  Soon small groups of one time soldiers sat at grouped desks chatting and sharing the places they had served. Mary could see the release the time together provided and her heart swelled with love and joy at the simple act that could offer so much hope.

  On the evening of their fifth meeting Mary looked up from pouring coffee as a lean dark haired man stepped through the door.

  He wore common work clothes and a simple hat, but when his gray eyes met hers Mary’s heart skipped a beat at Mr. Abrams’ smile.

  Putting down the coffee pot Mary hurried toward the door. She had wondered what had ever happened to the impetuous flyboy after her thank you note. Often she had worried that his quest for revenge would lead him to destruction, but here he was standing in front of her with his hat in hand.

  “Miss Robertson,” Barrister said his voice soft.

  “Mr. Abrams, I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see you well.”

  Barr smiled. “You mean you’re pleased to see that I didn’t crash and burn back in France,” his dark gray eyes sparkling.

  Mary blushed prettily but nodded. “Won’t you come have a cup of coffee?” she invited. “I’d like you to meet my cousin.”

  Barr fell into step with Mary heading for the small cook stove and the tiny table covered in plates of doughnuts. As Mary got him a cup of coffee he picked up a doughnut biting into it with a smile. “Nice to see some things don’t change,” he said swallowing his first bite and taking the cup Mary offered.

  “I heard about this in Tipton,” Barr said looking around at the small groups of men who were chatting quietly over coffee and doughnuts. “This is a good idea,” the man said. “They need to be able to talk to others who understand.”

  Mary dropped her eyes. Something about the way he spoke made her feel self-conscious. Eric had been the inspiration for the meetings, she hadn’t done much.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Mary said. “I didn’t know you were from around these parts.”

  “I’m not,” Barr said looking up over his mug and meeting her eyes, his gaze warm and full of something she didn’t quite recognize.

  “What brings you all the way out here then?” Mary asked bewildered.

  Barr raised his eye brows. “I thought you would have figured that out by now,” he grinned. “I came to see you.”

  A large cowboy in a chambray shirt was moving toward Barr as he spoke to Mary and a cold chill raced down his spine. If the man had some designs on Mary, he might not like Barr horning in.

  “Mary is everything alright?” the big man’s voice rumbled over them and Barrister stood a little taller.

  “Everything’s fine Eric,” Mary said. “Mr. Abrams and I met in France. Mr. Abrams, this is my cousin Eric.”

  Barr let the air out of his lungs slowly and smiled reaching out a hand to the other man. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Eric took the other man’s hand in his noting it was strong and steady. “Where were you?” he asked quietly.

  “France,” Barrister replied. “Lafayette’s Espradrills.”

  “Flyboy huh?”

  “Joined in ’16,” Barrister agreed.

  “Infantry battle of Sans,” Eric said lifting his withered hand. “Welcome to the ball.” Eric looked back at the Mary. “Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

  Mary turned back to Mr. Abrams. “Surely you didn’t come all the way out here to see me,” she said feeling flattered and bewildered at the same time.

  “Actually I did,” Barr replied. “You see a great deal has changed since the war ended.”

  Mary smiled thinking this was an understatement, yet understanding that the man was speaking of changes in himself.

  “To begin with I’ve joined the Salvationists,” Barr looked up his eyes full of some question, but when Mary didn’t speak, he continued. “The day the fighting stop, I felt so lost,” he began. “I had no purpose. The entire time I was in France I had one thought, one goal, and that was to take the fight to the enemy. After each battle all I could think of was getting back into the air and evening the score. The more men and planes we lost, the more I was determined to take down enemy planes. The day the war ended I found myself without purpose.”

  Mary smiled sadly at the man, longing to reach out and touch him and offer some form of solace.

  “That day I stood there on the field looking at the remaining aircraft, the damaged runways, and mangled machines and didn’t know where to go. The sound of singing in one of the hutments nearby drew me, and soon I found myself listening as men sang filling the space with a deep unending thanks that the conflict was over. I don’t know exactly when or how it happened, but I realized that instead of taking lives I should be trying to save them.” The flyboy’s voice cracked, and Mary could feel the depth of emotion radiating from him like heat from a stove.

  Gently Mary laid a hand on Barrister’s and he clutched it like a drowning man. “As I stood there singing the unfamiliar songs, I remembered that for some reason, I’d been given a second chance, and that a young woman had come to my rescue pulling me from the real threat of death by fire. I signed on with the Salvation Army that very day and after helping with a good deal of clean up and repair in France returned home. I asked only one thing from the establishment, and that was to seek you out and offer my heartfelt thanks.”

  Tears swam in Mary’s eyes as she listened to Barr. She had only done what she felt was right. There had been no conscious thought of right and wrong at the moment she had raced to the man’s aid. She had seen a need and simply reacted. “I’m glad you came,” she said softly feeling the tingle of his fingers on hers.

  “After the meeting why don’t you come back to the ranch with Eric and me?” Mary finally spoke again. “There’s plenty of room and,” she hesitated a moment then went on boldly. “I’d like to get to know the man I saved a little better.”

  Barrister’s heart seemed to soar. He had come to Wyoming to say thank you, but in his heart, he had hoped that he would be welcomed for more than simple gratitude.

  From the moment he had opened his eyes and gazed into the face of his rescuing angel, he had longed to look at her again. He wanted to know her, understand her and be her friend.

  As the night wore on and Mary returned to her work, Barr talked to the men of the area learning about Tipton, the Broken J and the James family. Apparently the family had played a big role in settling the area as the first ranch this side of Casper.

  Barr was beginning to understand just why Mary Bridgette thought little of her actions back on the front. She had been raised to work, to think, and to act when needed. It was second nature to her, and he knew even then that his admiration for her was growing.

  It had been a silly thing to come all this way from his home in North Carolina to see the young woman, but he had been compelled. Now that he was here, he didn’t want to leave until he had the opportunity to explore every possible aspect of his feelings for the woman.

  As the meeting ended that night, Barrister grabbed his rucksack and headed to the wagon outside. As Eric pulled the big team to
a stop in front of the now quiet schoolhouse, Barr offered Mary his hand helping her into the wagon.

  It felt right climbing up next to her as the team turned toward home and a ranch he had never seen.

  Chapter 17

  Mary Bridgette climbed the stairs to her parent’s home stepping into the house with a smile on her lips.

  Eric had taken Mr. Abrams home with him with a promise to make him comfortable. There had been something about the man that drew her. He was peaceful now unlike before when an angry energy raced through him compelling him to fight.

  Could a man truly change so much in such a short time? Only a power greater than mankind could change a heart.

  Opening the door Mary smiled as her eyes fell on her father sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in hand.

  She knew that he had been waiting up for her, watching to see that she got home safely. It didn’t matter that she was twenty-six years old, or that she had spent nearly two years in war torn Europe serving the men on the front lines, to Wilson Robertson she would always be his little girl.

  “Good meeting?” Will asked softly indicating there was still coffee on the stove if she wanted any.

  “Yes,” Mary said pouring a cup and taking a seat. “We brought a guest home with us tonight.”

  “A guest?” Will asked tipping his head and making the light of the single lamp catch the silver threads in his hair.

  “Yes, a man I helped in France,” Mary continued. “His airplane crashed one day when we were bugging out, and I pulled him from the plane before it blew up.”

  Mary could see her father’s face go pale but pushed on. “We were miles from the nearest hospital, and I had to get him there. We happened on an old steam tractor like the one Taylor uses to haul trees…” she shrugged as if that was explanation enough.

  “And I suppose you fired up that engine and carried him back to the hospital.”

  “Yes, we found others who couldn’t manage on their own along the way, and that old tractor hauled them to the hospital too.”

  “That must be the engine Eric mentioned,” Will said. “He said you found it and his squad commandeered it for use hauling those big guns.”

  “Yes that’s the one.” Mary smiled softly. “Mr. Abrams joined us tonight at the meeting, and since he’d come a long way, we invited him to stay here for a while.”

  Will reached out laying his rough, work hardened hand on Mary’s. “That was very kind of you,” he said noting the signs he had been expecting to see since Mary had turned nineteen. Ever father knew that the day would come when his little girl gave her heart to another man. He wasn’t even sure that Mary recognized the symptoms yet, but he could see a light of curiosity in her eyes that he had never seen before. “I look forward to meeting him tomorrow,” he said simply finishing his coffee and pushing to his feet. Placing the cup in the sink he turned smiling at his oldest child. “Good-night Mary.”

  “Good night Pa,” Mary said hurrying to her feet and placing a gentle kiss on Will’s cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.

  ***

  The next morning broke warm and bright, and Mary rose feeling a sense of joy that was both welcome and unexpected. Dressing in one of her nicest skirts, she felt an unfamiliar hope at the thought of seeing Barrister Abrams.

  “Good morning,” Katie said as she packed lunches for Mary’s younger sister and brother. “Will your guest be joining us for breakfast?”

  Mary stopped unsure what to say. She hadn’t thought of where Mr. Abrams would eat breakfast.

  “I don’t know?” she replied. “He went home with Eric.”

  “Well if he comes to the ranch house I’m sure we’ll be called,” Katie said. “Nona won’t let the man starve either.”

  Together the women laughed and Katie’s heart fluttered. Whether her daughter recognized it or not, she saw all the signs of a burgeoning love, and she hadn’t even met the man yet.

  Perhaps there was some strange connection that existed between Mary Bridgette and the pilot she had saved. Will had told her the story last night when he’d come to bed, and she could only imagine how close someone would feel to the one who saved them. Either way Katie was preparing her heart to lose her daughter for good.

  ***

  Barr stepped out into the crisp brightness of a new day. A light dusting of snow had fallen in the night, and the fresh air filled his lungs with cold.

  A hint of wood smoke tinged the frosty air, but otherwise the smell of earth and water was untouched.

  Barr took in another deep breath tasting it deep in his throat as he appreciated the cleanness of his surroundings. No muddied trenches, no smell of gun smoke, artillery, fuel and death touched the essence of the prairie.

  Not for the first time he wondered how Miss Robertson had stood the filth and fire of the war. She had come from the beauty and freedom of this open land and had still stood in the mud and blood of the war offering succor to those in need.

  Barr had been pulled into the war by a thirst for adventure, but when he’d lost his first friend to enemy fire, something had bust to life in him that drove him on. He’d been clutched in the cycle of hate and anger from the moment he’d seen his brother’s plane plunge to the earth in a stream of smoke and flame.

  Barrister ran a hand over his face as he approached the barn. He smiled watching a flock of silly chickens scratching in the snow.

  The smell of a charcoal fire in a small out building hinted at a foundry within. Walking further, his hands thrust into his heavy blue coat, Barr made his way to the barn and stepped in to the relative warmth of the big structure.

  “Mornin’,” an older cowboy with silver streaked brown hair and dark eyes greeted. “You must be Mr. Abrams.”

  Barr reached out a hand. “Barr,” he greeted.

  “Will Robertson,” Will said a smile on his face.

  Barr’s eyes grew wide then he too smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you sir,” he offered. “You have a rather remarkable daughter you know.”

  “I know it,” Will said. “You won’t convince her of it though. She just thinks she’s as regular as rain.”

  Barr studied the older man for a moment then nodded. “I think she’s rather special sir,” he admitted. “I felt that I couldn’t get started with my new life until I saw her and thanked her personally. My new start couldn’t be possible if she hadn’t stopped to pull me out of that wreckage.”

  Will nodded. “So what’s your new start?” he asked. It didn’t seem all that long ago he’d been a down at the heel cowboy looking for a place to start a whole new life.

  “I’m working for the Salvation Army now,” Barr said. “I’m starting a mission in Cheyenne to help returning soldiers get back on their feet. A load of men will come home lost and alone and not know where to go. The bottle and other vices have a strong draw on a soul with no hope.”

  “Sounds like a good place to start.”

  Barr smiled. “I’ll see how it goes. I’ve been told there’s a man in Cheyenne who has been working in a church that offers help to the helpless, and hope to the hopeless for a long time. Perhaps we’ll be able to partner up and do some real good.”

  “In the mean time why don’t I take you over to the house, and you can meet my wife Katie. We’ll see what Mary’s doing this morning, and you two can get caught up.”

  Barr smiled. He’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of Mary all day but wasn’t sure where to start. Her cousin Eric’s wife, Joan, had provided a hearty breakfast then suggested he take a walk, while Eric headed to the smithy.

  “Sounds like a good plan sir,” Barr said turning and following the ranch ramrod around the big house and along a well worn path to a little house with a wide front porch.

  Chapter 18

  Barr stepped into the simple but homey house to the smell of butter, sugar and cinnamon.

  “Katie,” Will called stepping through the door and into the quiet house. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Barrister Abrams.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, hello,” a pretty middle-aged woman said turning from the oven where she’d just slipped in a tray of cinnamon rolls. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Barr took the woman’s hand, shaking it gently. He could see aspects of Mary in the woman’s face and noted the resemblance. Mrs. Robertson was still blonde where Mary had bright brown hair only tinged with gold, and Mrs. Robertson was a tad taller than her daughter as well.

  “Mr. Abrams,” Mary said stepping from another room and smiling as she tied an apron around her waist. “We’re making cinnamon rolls.” Mary finished lamely.

  “They certainly smell good,” Barr said unsure what was expected of him.

  Will looked over the other man’s head at his wife catching the slight smile on her lips. The two young people were feeling a bit awkward, and he hoped Katie would take pity on them soon.

  “Mary why don’t you start another pot of coffee and take these out of the oven when they’re done. I need to run across to the house and get more cinnamon from Nona. Perhaps your father will walk me to make sure I don’t slip in all that snow.”

  Mary looked at her mother oddly, but didn’t say anything only moved to the stove and retrieving the coffee pot.

  “We’ll be right back,” Will offered. “Mr. Abrams, please make yourself at home.”

  Barr looked after the older man as he helped his wife into a heavy coat then moved to the table and took a seat. The door closing was the only indication that he and Mary were alone in the house.

  ***

  Katie stepped down into the snow clutching Will’s arm and trying not to laugh. “Do you think they will realize we did that on purpose?” she asked keeping her voice low.

  “Probably not, they both seemed rather lost in their own thoughts just now.”

  “Hopefully, a pan of hot cinnamon rolls and fresh pot of coffee will put them at ease.”

  Will smiled as they went past the fence that separated the main ranch yard from their property. “We’re losing our little girl aren’t we?” he asked.