Chapter 7 

New Beginnings

The ride seemed endless. Gradually they came to a halt in front of a cabin, one Patricia had never seen before. Saying nothing, John got out of the wagon and came around to help her. As he did, he was distinctly aware of her confusion. He led her slowly in front of the team until they came to a specific spot and stopped. She noticed that twinkle as he turned toward her.

“Welcome home, my love,” he said quietly with a great sense of pride.

“John?”

“Yes, love, this is our home. I began building it over a year ago. Come and see.”

He swept her up in his arms. Once across the threshold, he set her down just inside the door. She looked around the room slowly. There was a table and chairs set up by a small but beautiful rock fireplace, which was complete with a huge iron pot and cooking utensils.

John carried her to their bedroom. The next morning during breakfast, they shared memories of the reception. Patricia remembered Randall’s fall from his horse as he left.

John chuckled. “Well, I have to take part of the blame for that. You see, I was more than just a little upset at his monopolizing you. I was going to go over and give him a piece of my mind and throw him out, but Jasper calmed me down. Instead, I went outside and loosened up his saddle a bit.” The thought of Randall falling off had them both laughing to the point of tears.

As days turned to months, they remained as close as they had been on the day they wed. John would leave the house in the morning to cut down trees at the property lines. In truth, there were no definite properties, since the home had been built on the extensive Heifelmeyer estate. Property lines did exist to some extent, but only for the sake of privacy.

In good weather, Trish would set about baking a pan of biscuits as soon as he left. As soon as they cooled a bit, she would wrap them in a towel for the journey across the acres to see John and offer him the freshly baked biscuits. It became a tradition with the couple; a special time to share themselves with each other.

John wouldn’t vowed he wouldn’t keep anything from Trish. Early morning April 19, 1867, they sat together talking, when John pulled booklets from his back pocket.

“My love, I must tell you something. I have joined Pinkerton’s National Detective Agency. I want you to read these booklets. They can explain better than I.”

Trish took them and began reading. As she turned the last page, she reached for his hand and kissed it tenderly.

“John, I agree with everything here. I totally support your decision.” John reported directly to Allen Pinkerton.