Joab stared at the blood on his hands. The voices in the outer rooms of the doctor’s office drifted like echoes on the prairie wind. His only son—dead— when an hour before he had been full of life, enthused about his trip to town.
Joab stared at the blood on his hands. The voices in the outer rooms of the doctor’s office drifted like echoes on the prairie wind. His only son—dead—when an hour before he had been full of life, enthused about his trip to town.
He laid his hand on the boy’s arm, dark against pale. Warmth from his son’s body dissipated.
Cold crept over Joab’s. Why did this happen? What could have caused those dogs to attack like that?
A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned to see that Dixon’s darkened features mirrored his pain. His cheek twitched in an attempt at a smile for his friend, but Dixon’s frown only deepened in response. Joab frowned then too.
“I’m taking Barty and Nathaniel.” Dixon toyed with his Stetson. “We’re going after the dogs.” His jaw muscles flexed. “Did you want to come?”
Joab shook his head. “What good would that do now? They’ve done their damage.”
Dixon’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry Joab. I …”
“I’ve got to get Sarah.” Joab turned back to his son. His shoulders drooped. What would he tell his wife? For seven years Sarah had prayed for a son before Rupert was born. Each of those seven years his brothers had a boy. Jerod had four sons, and Caleb had three.
Now Joab had none. He choked on a sob then wiped his mouth. Squeezing the boy’s arm he said, “Goin’ to get your mama, son. I’ll be right back.” Rupert could give no response.
How would Sarah take the news? With the stress of harvest just beginning, she’d have to hold out or they’d not get the crop in and winter would be upon them without enough to carry them through to spring.
He glanced at his son, and pain shot through his chest. Turning to the sergeant and the doctor, he took a deep breath, and then let it out long and slow. “I’ll bring the buckboard in to take him home.”
He moved slowly toward the outer office, his shuffles echoing against the walls, a hollow forecast of life ahead. “I appreciate your help, Doc, Dixon.” His muscles shook as he opened the door. He’d rather have lost his farm than his son. God, help him. How was he going to face Sarah?
Sarah Black shook out her apron and coughed. “This dusty prairie will surely be the death of me.”
The old milk cow had made quite a mess of her corn patch and damaged the pumpkin plants. She placed her hands on her hips. “But, what’s done is done.”
The cow was put back in the corral, the gate was tied with an extra rope, and now she could glance at the sun. She needed to scramble to get supper on before Joab and Rupert returned from town.
Stopping at the step of the new plank-sided house, she took a moment to admire it. Joab had finished work on the interior yesterday. He had worked into the wee hours of the night during haying, nailing by lamplight.
She stroked her abdomen and smiled. This winter they need not fear the cold. Joab said the plaster on the inside was as good as any city house in Ontario. Plaster—huh. Who would have thought that a prairie farmer would be able to plaster his house? But she was thankful. No doubt they were the talk of the town.
A smile played on the corners of her mouth as she looked across the white fields begging to be harvested. Joab planned on cutting the barley tomorrow. He had told Rupert he could drive the team. Hard to believe the boy was old enough.
She rubbed her hands and picked up the water bucket on the step. Pushing open the door, she stroked it with her free hand. An oak door brought on the train from Ontario. What a treasure.
She stepped into the kitchen and caressed the plaster wall. So nice compared to the dirt walls of the sod house. Joab had even put in a new hand water pump. It wasn’t working yet. “After harvest,” he had said.
At the sink, she set the water bucket down. The potatoes needed scrubbing, and the carrots needed to be peeled. With a carrot in one hand and the knife in the other, she paused to admire her new coal stove and the table Joab built last winter. God had truly blessed them.
A hymn came to mind as she worked. Amazing Grace. This afternoon, she’d hung the gingham curtains that graced the glass window. Her heart swelled at the beauty of them and the homey feeling they brought to the house. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
A shadow crossed the window. Was that Joab?
She wiped her hands on her apron. Where was Rupert? Surely, Joab wouldn’t have left him in town. Her chest tightened, and she hurried to the door.
Joab stopped at the step. His pale face drooped and, worse yet, blood stained his blue linen shirt.
Sarah’s hand fluttered to her throat. Something terrible must have happened. “Joab, what is it?”
“Sarah, go in and sit down.” He pulled the red kerchief from around his neck and wiped his brow.
She took a cautious step back through the door while she eyed her husband. “Where is Rupert?”
“Sit down.” He cast the kerchief onto the wood counter by the sink.
She pushed a runaway blonde curl off her forehead then eased herself down onto the bench without taking her gaze off the bloodstains. “Is he hurt?”
Joab lowered himself onto the other end of the bench. He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor while his muscular back rose and fell with heavy breathing.
Sarah gripped her hands. Lord, please let Rupert be all right.
“Wild dogs …” His voice croaked. “Rupert. He crossed the railroad and wild dogs …” Joab rubbed his face with both hands. “I shot at them.”
She took in a quick breath. “Is he all right?”
“I scared them away, but it was too late. Rupert was already gone.” Joab buried his face in his hands.
She covered her mouth. Gone? “God, please, no.” Her knees buckled, and she fell onto the bench. Joab had to be wrong. “This just doesn’t happen.”
Her husband moved to her, his pale face speckled with red blotches.
She reached out to him. “It couldn’t have happened.”
He took her hand and pulled her to him. His earthy smell engulfed her as she buried her face into his shoulder. Tears flowed, hers on his shirt and his in her hair. “God, how could you have let this happen?” Just that morning, they’d left—Rupert healthy, laughing, expecting to buy his own pony. He couldn’t be …
Joab sank down beside her. “I’m going to hook up the team, and we’ll bring him home.” He ran his finger along her cheek. “Sarah, you must be strong. I saw him. He was there. He talked with Rupert.”
“Him?” She gripped his shirt. “You mean …”
Her husband nodded.
“I don’t believe you. How could he find us out here?”
Joab’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, but he didn’t answer.
Sarah rose to her feet. “You have to be mistaken. It couldn’t have been him.”
Joab’s lips grew thin. He turned and walked to the door. “God knows.”
God did know. So why would He let him come back into their lives? She lowered herself to the bench. No. Joab was wrong. It was someone else.