by Lilah Rivers
Thinking about it, Jodi well understood her father’s trepidations. But surely things can’t be that bad, Jodi told herself, even more as the train carried her closer and closer to her dangerous destination. Amy never mentioned being assaulted or hunted in any of her letters, Jodi reminded herself. And if really were such a hellish landscape, why would so many people be flooding out there in ever-increasing numbers? How could they survive?
Jodi put the thoughts aside, confident that God would see her safely to her destination and then back again, when that time came.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Jodi silently recited, I shall fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, You anoint my head with oil, my cup runneth over. Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
The closing half of Psalm 23 brought Jodi some comfort and allowed her to think about the more positive aspects of the trip. She could already envision Amy’s face, those green eyes and that red hair, a smile that would create a warmth in Jodi’s soul as nothing else could.
And a baby for Amy and Clinton, Jodi thought, how exciting, what a blessing! And if she needs me, if she needs help, I’m anxious to supply it however I can, however it’s required.
And Clinton, Jodi told herself, I’ll finally be able to meet this fellow face to face. Can he really be as good a man as Amy says? But Jodi didn’t have to worry too much about that. Of course, he is! Amy would never marry a man unworthy of her. True, her stubbornness and outspokenness may have scared away lesser men, but a man of true quality and worth would see the benefits of having such a strong wife. And those qualities would have prevented Amy from saying yes to anyone who was not up to the challenge of her excellence.
Jodi couldn’t help but imagine herself finding a man out in New Mexico, a man of similar quality as Clinton Burnett. She had to ask herself, Why not? Such a place must attract men of grit and ability, resourceful men with good deeds on their mind and not merely bad. True, there are tales of crime and misery, but also of heroes the likes of which fell at the Alamo! Perhaps there’s a Travis or a Crockett out there for me?
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jodi didn’t recognize the man’s voice, and when she turned to look up at him, she didn’t recognize his face either. He glanced at the empty seat on the bench she was sitting on. “May I?”
She didn’t see any reason to refuse the man. He was well-dressed in a waistcoat, black leather boots, a gold watch on a chain. He sat down next to her and tipped his top hat. “Bailey Barns,” he said.
“Jodi Hoffman,” Jodi replied.
“Well, it’s nice to make your acquaintance, Jodi Hoffman.” He glanced at her hand and smiled. “Miss Hoffman, I see.” Jodi nodded and offered a polite smile but said nothing, unimpressed with the forwardness of his comment. “And what brings you out west, if I may ask? Mail-order bride?”
At first, Jodi was insulted, but then she recalled that her best friend Amy had done that very thing and to very happy results. It also struck Jodi that this fellow had begun their conversation in a forthright manner and was pursuing that course.
But Jodi was unaccustomed to lying, so she said simply, “No,” and added nothing more.
“I see.” After an awkward silence, Bailey continued, “I’m traveling for work.”
“Is that so.”
“It is. There’s a very wealthy man in Houston who values a spirited game, and he values the very best opponents.”
Jodi had a good idea of what he meant, and the man’s dandy clothes and superficial politeness suddenly made ugly sense. “And what game would that be?”
“Poker,” Bailey told her with a little wink. “The only game I play.”
“I see. And is that all you do? Play poker, I mean?”
Bailey looked her over with a wry grin. “It’s all I do for work, if that’s what you mean. But it is an occupation which give me… ample time for relaxation.”
There was no doubt about the man’s inclinations or desires, but Jodi would have none of it. She asked, quite rhetorically, “You don’t think of gambling as a vice?”
“Maybe for some.” He shrugged. “It’s true that some people, they gamble away their family’s fortunes, their wealth, even their minds.”
“That’s quite so,” Jodi agreed. “And it leads to other sins, too: drunkenness, cigar smoking, even… loose company.”
“Yes,” Bailey confirmed with a smile and a nod, “it surely does. But I am a professional and I gamble with a sense of social responsibility.”
Jodi rolled her eyes and shook her head.“What about your responsibility to your family while you travel by train across the country to play cards?”
“To earn a living,” Bailey corrected her. “And, just so you know, I don’t have a family. So I’m completely… unencumbered.”
Jodi said, “Twice unencumbered, then, as you’re free of any association from me as well as any family.”
Bailey offered a little smile and tipped his hat. “I see.” He stood to walk away, then turned once again. “Good luck with… whatever business brings you out west.”
Jodi nodded, not wanting to reverse direction with an offer of good luck on his card game. The fact that he was leaving was good enough for her.
The train kept rolling and New Mexico, and Amy, awaited her. She wasn't thinking about finding a man anymore; her best friend would be more than enough.
Chapter 8
The Angeldale train station was crowded, plenty of high-fashion passersby reassuring Jodi that she hadn’t, in fact, travelled to another planet. Some wore the denim and leather of the ranch hand or the cowboy, more of what Jodi had been expecting. But the landscape took her completely by surprise—massive walls of orange rock, cactus and dry brush, tall formations that looked almost like deliberately carved statues, certainly by the Hand of God.
“Jodi!” Jodi instantly recognized Amy’s voice, despite the excited shriek giving her a giddy, childlike tone. Standing by the porter as he pulled down her trunk, Jodi turned to see Amy running up to her. Jodi was flush with warmth to see those familiar green eyes, that pretty, freckled face. She was less pale than before, sun kissed by a year under the cloudless desert sky. Amy smiled, broad and sincere, and Jodi was gratified just to see her old friend in such good spirits.
Amy ran up and threw her arms around Jodi’s neck, pulling her close in a tight embrace.“How was your trip?”
“Long and uncomfortable,” Jodi answered, “and worth every inch. It’s so good to see you again, Amy. You look wonderful!”
“With you here, how could I feel otherwise?” Amy turned to reveal a tall, handsome man by her side as he handed the porter a few coins. “Jodi, this is my husband, Clinton Burnett.” She turned to Clinton, adding, “Clinton, this is Jodi Hoffman, the best friend a girl could ever have.”
He tipped his hat to reveal his thick, brown hair, winking one brown eye. Amy had described him in her letters, and by their generally happy tone, Jodi had assumed that he was a man of considerable worth. And when Jodi took him in, tall and friendly and stable by all appearances, she knew instantly that she’d read those letters rightly—Clinton was every bit the man Amy hoped he was and took him to be.
He took her hand, very gently. “Jodi, I feel like I’ve known you all my life. I’ll have the porter load your trunk onto the carriage.”
“I’m so glad to meet you, Clinton. It’s quite generous of you to welcome me into your home.”
“Not at all,” he insisted, “it’s more than our pleasure to have you.”
Amy said to Jodi, “You’ll be a lifesaver, I’m certain!”
“I hope so… and not the opposite.”
At Clinton’s good-natured confusion, Amy explained, “I used to be a lot more… contentious.”
Jodi asked Amy, “Not so stubborn anymore?”
Amy
smiled and glanced at Clinton. “If he weren’t so right all the time.”
Jodi shrugged. “Maybe she was just trying to impress me. All that time, maybe I was just bringing out the worst in her.”
“I love all of her, the best and the worst,”Clinton said.
Jodi smiled. “I’ll try not to be a bad influence.”
They shared a little chuckle and Clinton gestured toward the door. “Let’s get back to the ranch, unwind from your trip.”
“Very good,” Jodi said, “but I must stop at the wire office, send word to my parents that I’ve arrived safely. I promised.”
“Not a problem,” Clinton responded agreeably. “They’ll be worried, I’m sure.”
Amy asked, “How are your parents, Jodi?”
“They’re quite well, Amy, thank you. They send their very best and wish you well with the coming child.”
“Now that you're here, I’m sure it will all go swimmingly.” Amy smiled, but Jodi had the distinct impression that it was a brave face, that Amy might have been facing challenges more complex than Jodi understood.
But she didn't want any negative imaginings spoiling the happy moment of their reunion. So, with another happy smile, Jodi walked with them down the train platform to the station. She was flush with gratitude and good will, refreshed by the sight of her old friend wearing such a happy, carefree smile. And Jodi was undeniably gratified to have met Clinton, and that he’d made such a good impression. Every bit the man Amy said he was, and the knowledge reassured Jodi that New Mexico did have some good men. There may even be one there for her.
But there were other, more pressing things to worry about. “How do you feel, Amy? Are you doing well?”
Amy cracked an easy smile. “I’m fine, Jodi, just fine. I should think after that trip, you’d be closer to death’s door than I am!”
“It was a good deal less than comfortable, I can tell you that. Those trains, with the wooden benches.” They shared a little chuckle.
Clinton said, “It’s a lot faster and a lot more comfortable than riding horseback across the country.”
“I wouldn’t even want to think about it,” Jodi replied with a grimace. “We have carriages back in Rhode Island.”
“As we do here,” Clinton told her with a chuckle. “You won’t have to carry the trunk back.”
“Oh, of course not,” Jodi said, “I didn’t mean to imply anything, I just meant—”
“Don’t be silly,” Amy cut her off, “you couldn’t offend us if you tried.”
Jodi shook her head, hand on her forehead. “I’ll try harder next time not to.”
Amy put her hand on Jodi’s shoulder. “A more polite and graceful person, I’ve never known. But I’m so happy you’ve come, I… I can hardly contain myself. Let’s get back to the ranch before I burst out giggling like a schoolgirl.”
Chapter 9
Sheriff Scott Covey sat behind his desk in the Angeldale Sheriff’s Office and Jailhouse. His coffee was hot and the day was slow, just the way he liked both. His tenure in Angeldale hadn't been easy, but he’d gotten rid of a lot of bad elements. His reward was a quiet town and a body free of bullets.
The door opened, grabbing Scott’s attention. But he relaxed again to see Deputy Doyle Hollett step into the office, a broad smile on his face. He came in with his usual bouncy air, excited. His hair was long, blond, stringy at the edges as it gathered on his shoulders. But his blue eyes were crisp and bright, radiating his natural excitement for the job. It had been the key to his getting the job, and getting along, but Scott was often wondered if his youth and boundless energy wouldn’t be his undoing.
“Howdy, Sheriff.”
“Doyle,” Scott said, taking another sip of coffee. “Feeling well?”
“Every day above ground is a good day.”
But that seemed less than convincing to Scott’s professional instincts. “Anything your sheriff needs to know about?”
Doyle seemed to give it some thought, his hair gathering in a straight stalk over his face. “Just fell in love, that’s all.”
Oh, Scott thought, of course. “Again? How many is that today?”
“It’s not like that,” Doyle argued, pouring himself a cup of coffee. As if he needs it, Scott thought. “This one’s the real deal.”
After another sip of coffee, Scott asked, “And where’d you meet the future Mrs. Hollett?”
“Well, we… we didn’t actually meet, but… I just saw her ‘cross the street at the train station, greeted by our own Clinton Burnett and his new wife.”
“Amy,” Scott supplied.
“One an’ the same. And she had a trunk, a big one. So she’s staying a while, I figure. And she was traveling alone.”
Scott gave the matter some thought. Single women didn’t come into town often, so he was ready to understand his deputy's enthusiasm, another clear sign of the man’s youth.
“Keep your mind on your duties for now, Doyle.”
He shrugged. “Well, of course, Sheriff. You know there isn’t nothin’ more important than the badge.”
“Of course there is,” Scott corrected, “the people we use the badge to protect.” After a moment of silent shame, he went on, “Leave the Burnetts to their new guest. Have you been to ol’ man Mulligan’s ranch?”
“Why? There’s nothing to his claim, you said so yourself. Two head stolen, when we haven't seen a rustler here for months!”
“All the more reason to suspect we may have one now,” Scott admitted. “Maybe this has just been the calm before the storm? After all, why would he lie?”
Doyle shrugged. “Cold cow syndrome, maybe, doesn’t want word to get out.”
“Then go investigate, Doyle. You’re a law enforcement officer, aren’t you?” When Doyle nodded, Scott pressed forward, “And Mulligan pays his fees, he deserves our services as much as anyone. Go look into it.”
Doyle set down his tin coffee cup. “Sure thing, Sheriff.” He dragged himself across the office and left, closing the door behind him. Scott broke out in a little smile and stood up, crossing the office to the window facing the street.
He watched Doyle hitch up his horse to ride out to the Mulligan homestead. He’s a good man, Scott thought, a good deputy. He means well, and he’ll uphold the law without worrying me about corruption or greed or any lawlessness of his own. He’s got a good heart, pure. But he may not be the sharpest young man I’ve ever met. That’ll keep him honest, trustworthy, but it may also get him killed. Carrying a badge is no job for an overgrown child.
The sheriff glanced around the office and decided to step out for some air. People nodded and offered him a polite smile as he passed, and Scott knew it was out of respect more than genuine affection. Scott was never free with his emotions that way, hardened by years of his father’s drunken abuse.
“Don’t you dare cry,” the old man had warned him, even after delivering a fearful punch, “don’t you even think about it!”
Even then, the memories rang in Scott’s brain and in his heart. The train station came into view across the street, and Scott recognized the Burnett couple, Clinton and Amy. Good people, he thought, good citizens. They parted to reveal the young woman Scott was sure was the one Doyle mentioned. She was indeed lovely, with long blonde hair, weaved and still extending almost all the way down her back. She had the face of an angel, an unassuming figure, and the air of innocence and purity which Scott saw less and less in their expanding town.
