| |
MCNEAL RANCH LAND, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, August 1885
The eastern pasture of the McNeal ranchland was as still and quiet as the interior of some grand church, even the sounds of Mother Nature herself fading into a low hush as though all were afraid to even dare to disturb the almost sacred silence. In the far distance, McNeal Hill stood proud and defiant, a wordless vanguard watching over the lower plains that it offered such a commanding view of.
There was not a soul to be found for what may as well have been miles around. That is, until the steady beat of a horse’s hooves came pattering along, two riders perched atop the mighty steed’s stout back. Though the rhythm of the horse’s movement was decidedly a breach of the previously unbroken silence, it was a minor transgression at best. The low thump of each one of the horse’s four legs was merely a dull thud in the silence of the night, disappearing as quickly as it had come and could hardly have been said to have been there in the first place.
Leyla and Chase had ridden out in complete silence, both of them trying to find words to fill the time between their departure from the McNeal homestead and their destination in the grove of trees situated in the eastern pasture. Leyla’s arms remained fastened around Chase’s muscular chest like a lifeline.
Despite the somewhat gentle candor the two had achieved back at the homestead when Chase had first appeared and serenaded Leyla with a lovely Spanish song, neither of them still had a definite idea of what the other was expecting from this.
However, both of them knew one truth that was etched in stone: the future of their relationship would be determined that night, for better or for worse.
***
IT’S ALMOST LIKE FATE has brought us back here, Leyla mused as she slid from Cannonball’s back and hit the ground amongst the grove of trees.
But instead of a picnic, the two had returned to the site so that they might decide their future.
Chase tied Cannonball’s reins to the same branch that he had used previously, making sure that his mount wouldn’t be going anywhere without his say so. Once he was certain the horse wouldn’t be wandering off, he pulled what looked like a warm but still useful blanket that he had bundled up in a roll from the saddle.
Leyla thought his choice of bringing a blanket along strange at first. After all, the August heat of the day ensured that there was plenty of warmth left lingering throughout the night. However, when Chase unrolled the blanket and spread it out beneath the same tree they had shared their picnic, she realized what he was up to: he wanted them to be able to sit while they talked of his past.
With a slight degree of hesitance, Leyla made her way over to the blanket and sat down upon it, tucking her legs beneath herself. The blanket’s threadbare texture beneath her fingers made her wonder just how long Chase had been in possession of the piece.
Once she was in a fairly comfortable position, Chase mimicked her actions and lowered himself onto the blanket, sitting opposite of Leyla and just trying to adjust his bearings.
Again, the two settled into a thick silence as both of them waited for the other to make the first move.
With the draw of a deep breath into his body, Chase decided to open the dialogue. “What would you like to know first?” he asked, his face still showing signs of worry at what he was about to do.
Leyla pondered the question for a moment, her head tilting slightly as she gave the matter some thought. When she finally decided on a course, she came right out with it. “Let’s start from the beginning: who are you and where did you come from?”
Chase nodded as he drew in another breath. “All right, Leyla,” he began quietly, looking her directly in the eye as he spoke. “My real name is Charles McAllister, but as far back as I can remember everybody has always called me Chase. I was born near Springfield, Illinois, just before the war started. My mama died when I was real young and my daddy was a blacksmith who liked to drink. He wasn’t violent about it, but it sure didn’t help the income none. I stayed in school and learned what I could, at least enough to read and write some. My daddy died when I was about 12 years old, and I started wandering around trying to make my own way.”
Leyla tried with all of her might to keep her eyes from betraying the well of emotions that was rising up inside of her heart. Oh my poor, poor Chase, she thought sadly. All this time and you’ve never had a real home? No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it.
Chase, sliding deeper and deeper into the fog of his memories and extracting what he could, pushed forward. “I worked a lot of odd jobs between my daddy’s death and when I finally wound up in Cheyenne. And I’m not proud to admit, Leyla McNeal, that there were more than a few times where I had to steal just to survive.”
Leyla’s eyes must have given her shock at the admission away as Chase quickly held up his hands in apology. “Don’t get the wrong idea, now,” he said, trying to assuage her sudden concerns about his thieving. “It was more like pocketing apples or potatoes from the general stores and the occasional piece of meat cooling on a window sill. I pray God forgives me, and I never hurt nobody just to make sure my own stomach stayed full. That’s the full truth.”
Leyla calmed down after his explanation, and moreover she was oddly impressed that he admitted to what he had done just to survive.
No man admits to that kind of thing if he isn’t dead set on telling someone everything about himself, she realized. He really intends to tell me everything.
Chase rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner following his sudden defense of himself. “Like I said, I wandered around from town to town just trying to find a place to call home and taking any odd job I could get my hands on. I worked as a coal miner out in Pennsylvania, a ditch digger outside of Chicago, and I even took a turn at working in the various mills throughout New England. But no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t find a place that felt right to me. Even when my daddy was still alive I felt like there was something more for me calling over the horizon.”
Leyla nodded, likening his feeling to her desire to roam far and wide in order to further her reputation as a show rider.
“How did you come to be out here in Cheyenne, Chase?”
“I overheard a couple of fellas in the mine one day talking about all of the opportunities waiting for folks in places out west,” he said, his eyes taking him back to that time and place. “They said there was so much land out there that they were practically giving it away. I figured if that were true, then maybe I could try my luck out west and see if I could finally find a place I could call home.”
The more Leyla heard Chase’s tale, the more her anger at him was chipped away like a sculptor working on a block of stone with a hammer and chisel. Instead, sadness and heartache filled the crumbling void as she started to realize that she may have caused him even more pain as a result.
‘He has a wife, a wife yet living, and still made as though he was courting me,’ Leyla reminded herself.
“I didn’t have enough money to buy a proper train ticket out here, so I snuck aboard a few freight trains just to get out here, always staying one step ahead of the yard bulls and local sheriffs who liked to rouse free riders with a stiff beating,” he groaned as though he had received one or two despite his claim. “When I finally arrived in Cheyenne, I was amazed that any place so big could just spring up in the middle of nowhere. It was like magic to me.”
“It was kinda the same way for Maggie and me when our parents first brought us out here,” Leyla said, calling to mind her own memories of the first time she had seen Cheyenne. “After so many weeks of traveling through nothing but the plains and tall grasses, seeing this sprawling city was like something out of a picture book.”
Chase nodded his head in agreement before he continued. “After the initial shock wore off, I started asking about where a fella might find some steady work. Most folks told me that the main industry in Cheyenne was cattle, but seeing as I didn’t own a horse and didn’t have all that much experience riding, I was starting to feel like I’d been fed a line about all the prosperity abounding out here. That was when I heard that the Wilson family was looking for farmhands for the season...”
