March 1883
Try as she might to remain withdrawn from the community, in a town as close-knit as Larkspur, it was hard to accomplish such a goal. She'd been attending Sunday services with her parents and never left the church grounds with fewer than a half dozen invitations to luncheons, sewing circles, and more. Preferring to keep to herself, she had graciously declined each invitation. Until this week. Mary Carlisle had invited her out to the farm for a visit.
She and Mary had started to become friends before Minnie left for college, and she wanted to try to renew those bonds that had still been so tenuous at the time. Having hitched the buggy up herself – something she'd not had to learn in San Francisco where she'd walked most everywhere she'd needed to go – she was ready to leave the Larkspur town proper behind for an afternoon.
With a kiss on her mother's cheek, Minnie climbed aboard and drove the horse and buggy out of town toward the Carlisle spread. The air was crisp, but the sun was shining, and everything shone, bright and promising.
Mary, Grady, and their family lived at Mary's old house while Grady's grandparents lived up the road from them. Minnie pulled the buggy off the main road and began the trek up the long drive to Mary's home, which used to be called the Fitzgerald farm. She took in the well-trimmed greenery and tidy road, appreciating the care that had gone into it all. As she pulled into the yard in front of the farmhouse, she gasped. What had once been a ramshackle two story farmhouse with missing boards and a rotting porch was now a stunning home, painted a dusky blue with bright white shutters, a large wraparound porch, and a beautifully tended yard.
Opposite the farmhouse was an enormous chicken coop, much larger than Minnie remembered. The hens it housed were gold to a thriving egg empire in the Larkspur valley. Behind the coop stood a barn, proud and tall. Last time Minnie was here, the barn had been so fragile, the slightest wind would have taken the entire thing down. It had since undergone a transformation and now stood indomitable before her, a bright red beacon against the sky.
Minnie smiled and climbed down from the buggy in time to hear, "She sure is a beauty, isn't she?"
Turning, she saw Grady behind her. "The house or the barn? Or the chicken coop?" she asked lightly.
"It's good to see you, Minnie. I'll get your horse unhitched so she can rest. If I'm not in the house, I'll be out in the barn. Let me know when you're ready to go, and I'll get her hitched back up for you."
"Thank you, Grady. That's mighty kind. So, tell me, what was the beauty you were referring to?"
"Why, my wife, of course," he said with a wink before leading the horse and buggy away toward the barn.
When Minnie headed up the steps toward the front door, it swung wide before her, and Mary stood there, a baby in one arm and a toddler wrapped around a skirt-encumbered leg. "Come in, Minnie! I'm so glad you could make it. Grady thought the weather might keep you home, but I told him it wasn't that bad. You grew up with Idaho winters, after all. But he still has Texas blood in his veins and thinks the winters here are worse than they actually are."
Minnie removed her jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. Smiling at Mary, she reached out for the baby in her arms. "May I?"
"Of course," Mary said, handing the baby over. "That there is Emma Lou, and this little fella here," she said, indicating the toddler by her leg, "is Grady Junior."
Bouncing Emma Lou in her arms, Minnie said, "They're both so beautiful. Your life must be full indeed with these two to keep you busy."
Minnie, who had forgotten her sewing basket in the buggy, wasn't the least bit bothered that she had nothing to do with her hands save hold the cherub in her arms and smile at the shy boy who never strayed far from his mother.
"Don't let him fool you," Mary said, gaining her attention. "He's not as shy as he looks. As soon as he decides he likes you, you'll never again have a moment's peace."
"I can't believe how much this farm has changed. Your home is beautiful."
"Thank you, Minnie. God is good. So many things could have gone wrong over the years. There were times I didn't think He was doing anything to help us. Not to mention all the times I didn't want His help. He never gave up on me, though. Even when I'd given up on Him."
Mary gave Minnie a piercing look, and the petite raven-haired beauty broke eye contact. Then, changing the subject, she asked, "How did you end up with a blue house and red barn? Don't most people paint to match?"
Mary's laughter caused the baby in Minnie's arms to jump. "My husband insisted we paint the house blue. He said it reminded him of my eyes. Lizzie and Gigi insisted we paint the barn red because, as they said, 'Barns are supposed to be red!'" Picking Grady Junior up and settling him in her lap, Mary went on to say, "So, they all got their way, and they're all happy. Nobody but me thinks it's ugly to have those two colors within sight of each other."
Smiling, Minnie said, "I heard Clive is doing well at the horse ranch. I talked to Cesar Martinez, and he said Claudio is up there, too."
Mary nodded and said, "Clive loves working with the horses. He's found his calling."
Something was going unsaid. Minnie could taste it on the air. Knowing she shouldn’t pry but unable to stop herself, she asked, "Did he leave here on good terms?"
Mary looked away for a minute and then met Minnie's gaze. "My oldest brother is stubborn as an ox. He and Grady had more than a few go-rounds before he left, but he knows we all love him. Clive needs enough space to stretch his wings and find the path God has for him. He doesn't see how God has anything to do with his path yet, but he'll figure it out in time. Until then, we're a pretty patient family, and we have no intention of giving up on him."
"I understand a thing or two about being a willful child," Minnie said before asking, "What is he going to do once he's finished with his apprenticeship?"
"Well, Clive doesn't know this yet, but we're going to give him this spread here." Minnie's eyes widened, and Mary went on to say, "Grady's grandparents are getting up in years, so we're going to move up to their place and take things over. It's for the best. We'll be able to help them out more, and they'll get to spend more time with the kids. The land down here isn't very good for farming or ranching, but it's perfect for raising and training horses. This old homestead is going to do something good for Clive, and I think that'll go a long way toward helping him put the past behind him."
"That's an awfully generous gift," Minnie said.
"We have this land because Clive and Bobby worked so hard all those years. Things were bad back then. Clive was old enough – he could have run off or done any number of things different, but he didn't. He stuck it out with us, and I think in some ways he gave up part of his soul when he did."
Mary was referring to the years after their mother had died. Their father had been a terror, and they'd all suffered for it until he'd died. "We prayed on it, and Grady and I are certain this spread belongs to Clive. I kind of hope, as he gets a chance to start working this land again, doing it for himself and raising horseflesh on it, that he'll find the part of his soul he seems to have lost."
Minnie reached out and put her hand on Mary's. "I'll commit that very thing to prayer. Like I said, I know a few things about being willful and stubborn. I also understand giving up parts of yourself for the sake of survival." Forcing a bright smile onto her face, Minnie said, "Is Bobby looking forward to medical school?"
"He's so excited about it!" Mary beamed. "He can't decide between the University of Iowa and the University of Michigan. Michigan is further away, but the school has its own hospital, so he'd get real hands-on experience. It's also a three year program, where Iowa is two years. I think we all agree Michigan is the better choice, but the idea of sending him so far away and for such a long time… I don't know what I'll do with both of my brothers grown up and gone from here."
Minnie, knowing how close Mary and her brothers and sisters were, said, "You'll still have the girls. The last time I got to see them, they were so little. Nine and ten, I think. How are they doing?"
Mary brushed away the momentary melancholy as quickly as one would brush dust from a skirt. "They're good. Lizzie is fifteen now and doesn't have a clue how beautiful she is. I suspect she'll become a nurse. She has a way about her, you know?"
Minnie nodded, recalling the last time she'd seen the soft-spoken girl.
“Lizzie loves people, plain and simple. She never has a harsh word for anybody." Mary's pride in the girl was evident.
"Gigi, on the other hand, is a different story," Mary said with a laugh. "She never stops talking and has, on more than one occasion, still at the age of fourteen, gotten herself into trouble over her tantrums. When things don't go her way, she's not afraid to let the whole world know it. She'll outgrow it someday, but it's part of what makes her Gigi, and I don't mind that she's not all grown up yet. There's a part of me that enjoys being reminded of the little girl she used to be."
"So, if Lizzie's going to grow up to become a nurse, what will Gigi do?"
Smiling, Mary said, "Anything where she's in charge and everybody has to do things her way."
****
As evening approached, Minnie said, "I suppose I ought to head home before my family worries about me too much."
Grady, who was in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee said, "Give me a sec, and I'll go get your buggy hitched up for you."
Minutes later, Minnie was climbing into the buggy and heading down the long drive toward the main road. The wind had picked up. It was whipping the snow from the ground up into the air but, if Minnie wasn't mistaken, there was new snow coming down as well. By the time she got halfway into town, she began to worry. The weather hadn't looked that bad when she'd left Mary and Grady, but now it was near white-out conditions.
Before Minnie had a chance to react, the buggy tilted drunkenly to the right. Thinking she'd gone off the edge of the roadway, she tried to lead the horse to the left. The loud crack of splintering wood from underneath the buggy startled the normally docile mare. Frantic to escape, the horse fought. Already unbalanced, the buggy flew onto its side. Minnie was thrown from the bench. As she saw the snow rushing up to meet her, she had one last thought. I'm finally getting what I deserve.
Then blackness closed in.
****
Art was passing a dinner tray in to a prisoner in his cell as the mayor came bursting through the front door of the sheriff's office. "Something's wrong!" Looking the mayor over, Art saw something he'd never before seen on the city leader's face – fear.
"What is it?" he asked as he began strapping on a second gun belt and making sure both weapons were loaded and ready for use. Before the mayor could answer, Art had his trail coat on and was checking the breech of his shotgun to make sure it was loaded.
"Minnie's missing."
Art's heart raced, stuttered momentarily, and then raced ahead again. Tugging his hat down forward on his head, he asked, "When was she last seen?"
"She went out to see Mary Carlisle after lunch. We didn't have an exact time, but we assumed she'd be home by dinner. I tried to wait it out, thinking maybe she got busy talking. It's almost nightfall now, though. The temperature is lethal. If she's lost out there or hurt…"
The mayor's voice trailed off. Art patted him on the shoulder and said, "I'm on my way. Depending on her condition and the situation, we may have to seek shelter. If we don't come back tonight, don't panic. I will find her and keep her safe. In the meantime, you need to get Deputy Jasper and make sure he babysits our friend here," he said with a nod toward the cell.
"I'm coming with you."
The mayor's forceful voice drew Art's attention. Minnie's father was dressed for a cold trail ride, but he didn't sit a horse regularly and wasn't used to hard, physical work. "You'll slow me down."
"She's my daughter." There was no mistaking the desperation in his voice.
"If something happens to you and I have to make a choice between who lives and who dies, Minnie will win, and the guilt will destroy her. And if something has already happened to her…" Art's voice caught in his throat. "…Mrs. Smith will need you. You're not coming with me, and that's final."
"Sheriff…" The mayor's voice sounded weak, and his face was ashen.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do whatever you need to do. Find and take care of my girl."
Art gave the mayor a brisk nod, grabbed his saddlebags, and sprinted out the back door of the sheriff's office. He hadn't bedded the horse down yet, so thankfully, Mutiny was still saddled and ready to go. Art tied his saddle bags into place, put the rifle in its scabbard, mounted, and gave a loud, "G'yup!"
Without hesitation, Mutiny took off and followed the directions Art gave him with both the reins and his knees. Snow flew up behind them as the horse's feet dug into the ground covering. About two miles out of town he saw a flash of color on the side of the road. After dismounting and searching the area, he climbed back on Mutiny's back, fired one shot, and continued down the road.
The urgent need to find Minnie pressed in on him. She was out there somewhere without her horse, a horse that had been injured beyond the hope of recovery. He dreaded telling her he'd had to put it down, but he'd gladly deal with it as long as she was healthy enough to be angry at him for it.
Visibility faded more with each passing minute as the weather continued to worsen. It took an hour to cover the next mile of road and another thirty minutes past that before Art again saw something on the side of the road. The black buggy was almost masked under the blanket of snow. Art threw himself off of Mutiny and began yelling. His calls went unanswered as he scaled the buggy to search its interior. Seeing the way in which the buggy rested on its side, he next began digging through the snow in the surrounding area.
His gloved hand touched something soft, and he began to dig more frantically. "Minnie! Minnie!" He brushed the snow away from her face and ran his hands over her arms and legs, checking for broken bones the best he could. When he went to check her head for injury, his glove came away with blood on it. Using his teeth to yank one of his gloves off, he cradled her head in his lap. With his now bare hand, he felt for a pulse.
Please God, not like this…