The initial fondness that formed during the first meeting between Mildred and her mother-in-law ripened into a deeper attachment as the quiet and solicitous younger woman was enfolded into the deepest affection of the older.
Mildred’s relationship with her own mother had not been particularly warm. This distance between mother and child increased over the years as the woman’s health deteriorated. Eventually, the older daughter Stella had to take on most of the responsibilities of parenting, and she resented the extra burden of having to care for a younger sister.
Fionna was openly affectionate, and for the first time in Mildred’s life, she felt as if she were really a daughter. The thing that Mildred appreciated the most about Fionna was that she was easy to talk to. Fionna’s caring attitude and interest in her daughter-in-law drew them close together during their many instances of intensely personal conversation.
Luther McCracken, though a bit stern in appearance was pleasant enough and his face would creak into a surprisingly friendly smile once in a while. Most of the time, however, he was taciturn and inattentive toward her. Fortunately, Mildred was not particularly sensitive when it came to masculine surliness after being raised by a man like Sefton Duncan.
Another boon in Mildred’s new life was her relationship with Rebecca. She soon felt closer to her sister-in-law than to her own sister Stella. Mildred also loved it when Sammy and Morag called her Aunt Mildred.
The only downside to her life — and it was a big one — involved Silsby. The worst part was the total uncertainty of his whereabouts and safety. Countless doubts with potentials so devastating that she dare not voice them, put her nerves on edge during solitary moments. Could he be located? If he gave himself up and asked for the mercy of the court, would it still mean long years in jail? Another unhappy possibility might occur if Silsby were vainly searching for her.
Ben Shaw and Belle LaTour would not even know that Mildred had gone to Medicine Bundle unless they went to see Doctor Sawyer in Woodward to find out how she’d fared. That would be only a remote possibility. And if Silsby came back to the cabin, he might be too wary to go into town and ask after her if he thought the law was looking for him. He would think she returned to her own family south of Kensaw. It would be dangerous for him to go to her father’s farm. If the law didn’t get him, then Sefton Duncan would go crazy angry the instant he laid eyes on him. This could lead to a deadly confrontation with one of them being shot to death.
Fionna had also been giving the matter a great deal of thought. She, too, worried about the possibility of Silsby leaving the territory for parts unknown. Luther came up with the idea of his going to Kensaw and leave word that Mildred was with them on the farm. If Silsby passed through the community, somebody would surely tell him. He knew that Grant had asked a fellow named Arky Bob to do just that, but there was no certainty the man had complied. Either way, chances were slim of Silsby appearing in Kensaw. He would be aware that any lawmen trying to locate him would surely keep a sharp eye on the locale.
Grant was still gone on his payroll escort job with Nolan Sinclair. Until he returned, no serious hunt could be organized to locate Silsby and let him know where Mildred was. Grant’s latest assignment seemed to be taking longer than it should have. He had been gone more than a week.
Luther was eventually forced into a trip to the Kensaw area. This time Fionna made him visit Sefton Duncan. She thought it only decent that the man be informed his daughter was safe and living on the McCracken farm. Mildred warned Luther about her father, but Fionna insisted that Luther go see the man.
When he returned, he was angry and upset. He announced that if he ever saw Sefton Duncan again it would be too soon. “He run me off with a shotgun like I was a skunk in the barn,” Luther complained. His last words on the unpleasant incident were directed at Mildred when he told her he was sorry, but Duncan had refused to say anything about her mother’s health.
The family went back to its waiting game. Mildred kept busy helping with the chores. She was a farmer’s daughter and required no instruction or supervision in seeing to the countless tasks that needed doing. She fed the animals, milked the cow and goat, cleaned house, cooked, made beds, and remained a constant companion to Fionna, helping with butter-churning, soap-making, and other necessary activities to keep family and farm running smoothly.
Mildred worked hard, more than earning her keep. The daughter-in-law’s devotion to chores made Fionna’s life a lot easier. With the extra pair of hands, the meals were always on time, the house immaculate, and they enjoyed more leisure time in the evenings. It was also easier for Rebecca to leave Sammy and Morag over for long visits. The two children slept in one of the bedrooms upstairs kept especially for them.
The thing that Mildred enjoyed the most was hearing about her husband as a boy. Luther didn’t have much to say on the subject, but Fionna had plenty of anecdotes, and Rebecca filled in certain details now and then. Silsby became more of a person to Mildred. She always thought of him as a wild ex-cowboy and a loving husband, but hearing about his occasional pranks as a youth and seeing the three daguerreotypes taken during his boyhood added to her perception of her man. This fuller knowledge also increased the agony of his absence.
Mildred began to attend church with her in-laws early on. Her own family did not go to services and the only religious activities she had known were a few weddings and funerals. She didn’t pay much attention to the sermons at the Medicine Bundle Presbyterian Church, but she received a few lessons in spirituality by observing Fionna.
The young daughter-in-law was in awe of the quiet, deep faith that Fionna demonstrated through her attitudes and hopefulness. It was obvious that it helped the older woman deal with the uncertainties of her son’s fate, and Mildred desperately wanted some of that inner-strength for her own well-being. She and Fionna had an impromptu discussion about things in the predawn darkness one spring morning.
Mildred had awakened earlier than usual and lay in thought in her bed, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes passed, she heard the familiar padding of Fionna’s slippered footsteps going down the hall. As usual, Mildred got up to join her mother-in-law to prepare breakfast. After she put on her robe and stepped from the bedroom, she found Fionna standing at the second floor, gazing out the window that offered a view of the eastern side of the farm.
“Ma,” Mildred said, walking up beside her. “What’re you doing here?”
“This is something I do sometimes when I’m of a mood to,” Fionna said. “I stand at this window and watch the sunrise.”
Mildred looked out and could see the first showings of the dawn just beginning to peek over the distant horizon. “Yes. It’s pretty and peaceful, ain’t it?”
Fionna nodded. “Watching the sun rise always gives me hope. It’s like the Lord is saying, ‘Here we go again. It’s a fresh chance for the troublesome things in life to be put right.’ He’s telling us to keep our faith.”
“You’re truly religious, ain’t you, Ma?” Mildred remarked.
“I believe,” Fionna said. “That’s it plain and simple. I believe.”
“I never went to church ‘til I come here,” Mildred said. “I’m afeared I don’t get a lot out of it. Maybe that means I’m a bad person.”
“It means no such thing, darling girl,” Fionna said. “Your heart will open up to the Lord when it’s ready.”
“Maybe it never will.”
“That could be too,” Fionna said gently without censure.
“I watch all them people at services and it seems strange to me that they all believe in the same way.”
“They really don’t,” Fionna said. “Folks worship the same way, but a body’s belief in God is a personal thing like a special friendship. I get comfort from my religion and knowing that the Lord is watching over me. That’s ever’thing to me. Without it, I don’t think I could stand being alive.”
“I don’t rightly understand what you mean when you use that word ‘faith’,” Mildred said. “I reckon the closest I get to it is hope. I hope and hope that ever’thing is gonna be all right with Silsby.”
“Faith is believing in that hope and praying for it,” Fionna said. “Folks show their faith in lots o’ ways. When a farmer’s plow bites into the dirt to make the first furrow in a new planting season, that’s his show of faith. When a nail is hammered into a board to start building a house, that’s faith. It’s the same when a woman brings her baby to her breast for the first time.”
Mildred smiled. “I reckon the way you fixed up that bedroom for both me and Silsby is faith.”
“Yes, darling girl,” Fionna said. She patted her daughter-in-law on the shoulder. “I think I’ll put the coffee on. Are you coming downstairs now?”
“I’ll be there directly, Ma.”
Mildred turned back to gaze out the window. The sun was off the horizon by then. The dark was fading from the night as the new day brightened into morning.