Princess yanked me from my reverie. Her bawling came to me from the lean-to with imperativeness, and I answered. When I got to her she was down on her side, breathing fast and heavy. I untied the brown mare and took her around back of the storage shed, tying her there so she wouldn’t bother Princess.
The cow was very restless, turning her head to peer at her hindquarters, bawling plaintively. I knelt at her side, stroking her heaving flanks. I tried to calm her with soft speech, but it didn’t work. I knew something was wrong, though I was no expert at calving.
“Lonnie, I’ll help the cow.”
I jerked upright, stunned by Toby’s voice. He looked back at me silently, a whole world held in his eyes, then dropped the burlap bag he carried and moved in next to me.
“Mix up a warm grain mash for her. She’ll need it when she’s through.”
“You know about this?” I asked, glad to have a safe subject to converse about.
He laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “I’m from a dairy, remember? Go on.”
When I returned with the pan of mash he was working with her carefully. He glanced up at me. “Get up by her head and talk to her. Calm her. I have to reach in and see if the calf’s twisted.”
“Twisted. Oh, Toby—”
“Go on. If it’s got a leg turned, I might be able to help.”
So I held the cow’s head in my lap and talked to her, stroking her face and ears. I said a lot of nonsense to her about how lovely her calf would be, a heifer of course, and how beautiful she was. Finally she quieted.
Toby worked for some time. From time to time I heard him grunt, and I realized that though he was mostly healed, twisting oneself around a laboring cow still placed a lot of strain on a body.
He muttered something I couldn’t catch, then sat back on his heels and shoved heavy dark hair out of his face with a forearm.
“She should be all right now.”
“Did you fix it?”
“The calf had a leg turned, like I thought. I pulled it straight, so I think you’ll have yourself a new mouth to feed pretty quick.”
“Not me,” I said happily. “Princess will have the feeding to do.”
The cow settled into rhythmic breathing, contracted her flanks a couple of times, then gave a tremendous push. She lifted her head and peered at her hindquarters.
I moved and knelt next to Toby in the straw, looking down in wonder on the little calf. It was wet and slimy, still encased in its sac, but Princess broke it with her tongue. She got up with a heaving effort and began to lick the creature dry with her tongue.
Toby was tired. “It’s a heifer. What you wanted.”
“Toby,” I said gently, “Oh Toby.” I beamed at him. “Thank you!”
I threw my arms around him and hugged him with all the gratitude in my body. Trouble was, he didn’t realize it was gratitude.
I disentangled myself rapidly as he pulled me close. I avoided his kiss but was completely aware of the pressure of his arms around me. I pulled away and sat staring at him.
“I was only thanking you,” I said unsteadily.
He grinned companionably back. “Like I thanked you.”
I felt the heat in my face. “But—I didn’t mean—”
“Lonnie, it doesn’t matter. Whatever your reasons, the result suits me fine.”
“Toby, you don’t understand….”
He got to his feet. “Yes, I do.” He reached down and pulled me up, smiling warmly at me. “You don’t yet, maybe, but you will. I’m willing to wait.”
I stared searchingly at him, exploring my feelings, but got no answer. He reached out and tugged gently at my braid, like my pa used to do, but there was nothing fatherly about it.
Oh my sweet Lord, I thought to myself, what have I gotten myself into?
I stepped away abruptly, shutting off all the bewildering emotions flooding through me. My hands were fists and my whole body felt stiff.
“Toby, there’s an end to it.”
He stared solemnly back at me, then nodded. “Maybe there is. For now.”
“For good,” I snapped, then glanced back at the little calf. I sighed and relaxed. “Thanks for helping the cow.”
In the morning he came out to the garden and stared down at me as I weeded. Finally I sat back and tucked my legs beneath me.
“Something troubling you, Toby?”
“You always know, don’t you?”
“You’re wearing a very long face.”
“Why didn’t you ask where I went? All last night over supper, afterward when we talked over what the heifer meant to you. Why didn’t you ask?”
I found a stick and picked at the dirt, avoiding his beseeching eyes. “It’s your concern. You say you treasure your freedom, and freedom is being able to leave when you want.” I slid a glance at him. “Ain’t that what you say?”
“Isn’t.” He dropped to the ground and met my gaze on a common level. “I’ve said it. I meant it.”
“Meant?”
He also found a twig and began excavating. We were both horribly uncomfortable, searching for an easier way. The world was closing in on me.
“I couldn’t help but recall what Dan Michael said. About you telling me to go soon,” he said quietly. “So I decided to do it when you weren’t around. I thought it would be easier that way.”
“Why should it be?”
“Don’t you understand?” he whispered. “I was walking out on you.”
“You can’t walk out on something you never had,” I said firmly. “Go your own way, Toby. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“But I don’t anymore.”
“You’re a fool.”
It startled him. “Why a fool?”
“Only a fool gives up on a dream so quick.” I smiled at him, feeling strangely content. “I’ve done the thinking you told me I should. I started dreaming again, just a little. Such things can be good, when you’ve got the time.”
He was beginning to smile himself. “Then you don’t think little of me for leaving?”
My stomach fluttered into an odd calmness, a confidence I was beginning to understand. What’s more, I was beginning to like it.
“Toby—” I paused— “You came back, didn’t you?”
It surprised us both. He sat there, silent, and I suddenly became quite busy weeding. I thought I was doing just fine until I realized I was busily pulling bean sprouts instead of weeds. Hastily I tried to stick them back in the ground, but it was too late. Finally I dropped everything and stared helplessly at the ground, forlorn and lost within a soul I no longer understood.
“Then it’s settled,” he said calmly.
“What is?” I demanded hurriedly, unsure of his proprietary tone.
He rose, towering over me. I shielded my eyes against the sun as I peered up at him.
“I’ll be staying on.”
“You’ll be what?”
“Staying.”
I got to my feet, glaring at him, hands on hips. “What for, in the name of God?”
He smiled sadly at me. “Until you admit it for what it is, let’s just say I’ll stay on to pay off the debt I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me a thing,” I said quickly. “It wasn’t any trouble.”
“Lonnie, don’t be a fool.”
I gaped at him as he started to turn away. “A fool! You’re calling me a fool? Toby Markham….” I hurried to catch up to him as he moved to the house.
He turned on me at the doorway. “Lonnie, I’m staying!”
I watched him stomp into the house, furious with himself and me, and then I turned away and wandered back to the garden. I sat down in the dirt and contemplated my spirits, still stunned by his forceful entrance back into my life.
What bothered me most was the overwhelming relief I felt. Toby had chosen to stay.
The evenings turned cool and each night after supper we sat in the front room and traded our thoughts on things we believed in. We got along comfortably, and I began to see what it meant to have a man to share things with. The work was easier, though I refused to let him do it all.
The debt, I thought, would surely be paid by winter. And then he would go. California, perhaps, maybe Colorado. Gold and silver lured them all, and I wondered how much longer he would willingly shoulder my burden.
The day Toby swore to stand by me if the bank came after my land made me realize how closely he’d bound himself to my future. It frightened me. I was not willing to let him into the major part of my life. I was incapable to much feeling past my love for the land. He didn’t touch me again and never forced intimacy on me, but there was an unspoken acceptance on his part that it was only a matter of time. Stubbornly I refused to consider it, even within my heart. Toby had come for a while, and then he would go.
He made me recall the happier times of my life: the evenings my family had spent after supper, talking of things to come. I had pushed those memories away so the pain would diminish, but suddenly I wanted all of them back. Toby fit in, and I accepted him.
The thunderstorm rolled in as I wandered along the river bank, picking healing herbs I wanted to dry and store away. The air became turbulent and dark, and heat built on my skin. The morning turned sour, humid, closing in to oppress the earth. The clouds massed overhead, deep pockets of maddened blackness roiling in scalloped gray. The locusts stilled against the mounting threat of rain.
I thought the storm might ease the hot and heavy stillness like a punctured boil. When it came, it came with fury.
I stood in the deluge, uncaring of the wet. At first it was a hot storm, then cooled and chased away the brooding heaviness. I peered upward to watch the rain fall, then tucked my head down as it began to fall like a soaked sheet.
Lightning split the sky apart like a black wound cleansed by cautery. Suddenly frightened, I cried out and ran for the house, tossing away the herbs I’d picked.
The soaked grass dragged at my legs as I ran, slapping at me as if it would pull me down. The thick growth hid the log, and when I sprawled over it I fell with the heaviness of death.
And it all came back.
The smell hit me first, the stench of burning meat. One of the cows had not gotten away when the scavengers fired the lean-to, and the smell of charring beef was hidden by the acrid stench of shriveling hide. The mule streaked by me in terror, followed by my pa’s brown saddle mare. Wood smoke boiled into the air, and with it went the scent of burning animal. I shrieked something and ran on.
My Pa lay by the well, rifle clutched in his hands. His face was turned away from me, but the blood clotted on the back of his head. I stumbled away, gagging, and found my mother in the doorway.
She wasn’t screaming anymore. She was silenced. I saw the bloodstains across her dress and knew I’d never hear her again.
My sister lay beside her, and my baby brother whimpered when I knelt by him on the rug. I lifted his broken body in my arms, and then he died.
And I stared up at the roof and cried out my pain and fear.
Toby dragged me up from the earth and held me in his arms. I shuddered against him silently, fighting back the painful sobs. I became aware that he spoke soothingly to me, pushing away my fears, helping me back to myself.
I subsided and let him hold me, grateful for his care. The storm beat down upon us both, and it was a cleansing rain. When I finally drew back from his chest I felt released.
“Have you never cried for them before?” he asked gently.
I stared at him, subdued by my outburst. “How did you know?”
He pushed wet hair away from my face. “You were screaming about your brother, Lonnie. How you asked God to save him and still he died.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered in horror.
“Don’t be. You needed this. It’s been a long time coming.”
I looked into his face and saw what I’d been afraid to see before. He was more than carefree, careless soul. He was compassion and strength and I needed him.
But still I pulled away.
“Lonnie, there’s something I must say,”
“No.”
He laughed. “How do you know what I intend to tell you?”
“I don’t, but I don’t want to hear it anyway. Just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“In case you say something foolish.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“Let’s not get into a habit of it.”
“All I want to say—”
“No!” I said violently. “Let me go.”
He did not release my arms. “Give it up this once, Lonnie.”
I swallowed, avoiding his eyes. “Give what up?”
“That high, prickly pride of yours. Just this once let it go, and admit you care.”
“For you?” I snapped, and regretted it instantly.
“For yourself, Lonnie. You. You can’t care for me until you care for yourself.”
“Myself?” I whispered, stricken by his words.
“You’ve locked yourself away. For two years you’ve hounded yourself into living apart. You’ve made yourself believe you needed no one.”
“You,” I said clearly, “are a drifter and a wanderer with no desire for roots. You’ve spent some time here, healing, and now you try to tell me you care, and that I should care for you. Leave it alone, Toby. You’ll be gone with the next rain.”
“No.”
Suddenly I was desperate. “Why? Why do you want to do this?”
“For God’s sake, girl, I want to marry you!”
I was cold. I got to my feet and stood over him, hugging myself against the chill. I felt myself tremble and tried to dismiss it, but it went bone-deep.
“Toby, you can’t.”
“Can’t what? Can’t marry you, or can’t want to?”
“Both,” I said numbly.
He laughed and slicked away the rain from his eyes. “Of course I can. Lonnie, are you a girl who wants to be told a man loves her before she consents to a wedding?”
“A wedding?”
“It’s generally a good idea.”
“Why?”
He shrugged as I latched onto the tree, seeking strength. “I want to set my roots. Nail my boots to the floor.” He grinned brilliantly. “I want to do exactly what I said I wouldn’t do.”
I glared at him. “I don’t believe you. It ain’t possible.”
“Why not?”
“You hardly know me.” I glared at him. “Nor do I know you.”
He rose, folding his arms. “I know enough of you, Lonnie Ryan. I know enough to know.”
“You’re a fool,” I said desperately. “A light-minded fool who doesn’t know what he wants.”
“I’ve said I’ll marry you!” he cried angrily. “What else do you want?”
Fear beat hollowly in my heart. “I don’t know. Please—I don’t know.”
“Oh, Lonnie, did you think you’d never love anyone?”
The tree bark bit into my palms as I pressed my hands against it. “I have loved! For God’s sake, let me be! I have loved, and they died! I lost it all once, how could I risk it again?” I stared at him through tears that fell with the rain on my face. “How can I risk losing you?”
He pulled me from the tree and took me in his arms. He spoke very softly against my head. “Let it be, Lonnie, let it be. I won’t force you.”
“Just let me go, Toby.”
He did, and I went slowly to the house.