Paul and Ana’s chicken farm had continued to expand. With four large coops and a feed storage shed bigger than the original henhouse, they finally had an income sufficient to allow them to not worry about their next meal. But Paul still felt obligated to supply his old customers with their firewood, so along with Simon and Axel, he’d spent four days in the river bottoms felling, trimming, and sizing cottonwood. Though the species didn’t make the best firewood, and proved a real chore to split, it was plentiful, so that’s what they took. Now they had to deliver it.
Paul walked into Mace’s livery. “I need a rig for a day. Got a load of firewood for Ellis Sievers.”
“The big dray is available, and the Belgiums need a workout.” The smithy stepped away from his work, and swiped a forearm across his forehead.
“Okay if I take them home tonight and get an early start?”
“No problem. Now, or do you have some other things to do?”
“I’ll come by in an hour or so if that’s not too late.”
“I’ll be here. Got no place else to be.” Mace chuckled. “Expect I’ll be buried under this anvil.” He reached into the forge with his tongs, and extracted a red-hot horseshoe and returned to shaping it. He raised his hammer slightly and bounced it on the anvil to start, then the steel head and the anvil began singing their duet. Mace hit three staccato taps, then raised the hammer high and brought it down hard on the horseshoe. With a ringing clang, a trio was formed: hammer, anvil and shoe. Mace’s easy rhythm with the heavy hammer belied the difficulty of the task. Paul watched and admired the craftsmanship for a minute or so, then turned to leave.
As he stepped through the door, he nearly ran into his brother. “Sorry, Matt, almost run over you,” Paul said in surprise. He had only spoken to Matt three or four times since their problem over the sick pig, and Matt and Ruth had not been to the house at all since then. He hated the estrangement, especially for what it did to the two sisters, and he wanted to patch it up. Though he’d tried a couple of times, Matt still had his jaws tight and seemed to want it that way.
“Not likely,” Matt said brusquely. He started to push past.
“Just a minute.” Paul took hold of his brother’s arm. “We really should talk.”
“Nothing to say.” Matt looked down at Paul’s hand. “One Christian does not strike another like that. Not my rules you broke, and you know it.” He shook loose of Paul’s grasp.
“I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve said it before and I’m saying it again. I wish I could take it back. You’re right and I’m dead wrong. Okay?” Paul put his hand out.
“Stay out of my way. It won’t be so easy next time. Try it again and we’ll see who winds up in the shit.”
Matt walked around Paul, the significance he found in the detour apparent in his scowl.
“But—” Paul started, but Matt had already disappeared into the livery.
“Paisley!” Matt shouted. “Paisley, I want to talk to you.”
Paul turned and walked toward the main street, past the livery’s north end. There stood Mace, leaning against the wall, smoking. He met Paul’s eyes and he shook his head slowly, the gesture saying all that needed to be said. Paul nodded and continued on his way to the trading store.
Ana hurried across the room when Ruth surprised her by stepping through the open door. “Good heavens, sis, what a wonderful sight you are.” They gathered in a hug, putting simultaneous kisses to each other’s cheeks. Ana stepped back. “Come, sit . . . oh dear, I’m all light-headed.” She put her hand on the back of a chair. “Come and sit down.” She glanced at the door. “Did Matt come?”
“No, I’m afraid that’ll never happen again.” Ruth lowered her gaze to the floor.
“Well then, how did you get here? Surely you didn’t walk?” Ana knew how hot it was outside.
“I did. I had to come talk to you.” Ruth looked ready to burst into tears and slumped into a chair. “First, I want to tell you how happy I am for your home. I have so much wanted to see this happen.” She looked around the room. “Paul did a beautiful job. You’ve made it so nice.”
“Paul has worked hard with our chicken farm. We have John Lindstrom to thank for the help he gave us to get started. And we are thankful,” Ana said sincerely. “Now let me get us a cup of coffee, and we can sit for a while. It’s been so long since you were here.”
She went to the shelf by the stove, got another cup, and grabbed the coffeepot. At the table, she poured the two cups full. “Now, what would make you walk over two miles in the heat of the day?” She tried to look stern. “I’m a little upset with you, happy as I am to see you. What is it?”
“Matt said he ran into Paul yesterday.”
“So Paul said. Didn’t go well again, either. I wish they could patch things up.”
“That’s why I’m here. Matt said next time Paul lays a hand on him, for any reason, he’s going to shoot him.” Ruth’s words rushed out. “And Ana, he went to Mr. Swartz and bought a pistol. I’ve seen it.” She reached over the corner of the table and found Ana’s hand to squeeze it tightly. “I’m scared to death.”
A clammy cold rippled over Ana’s body. It was the same feeling that comes when the air goes still during a springtime thunderstorm as a whirlwind starts to build, gathering the power to rip the land apart. And the same sense of helplessness gripped her for a moment. “When did you see it?”
“Yesterday, he got it yesterday. He laid it on the kitchen table when he came home. I’m sure he wanted me to see it.”
“Where is it now? Does he carry it? Where does he keep it at night?” Ana searched blindly for a solution.
“I think he keeps it by his bed.”
“His bed? What do you mean, his bed? Ruth?”
Ruth would not meet Ana’s question with a direct look. She let go of Ana’s hand and her own started to move in a circle on the table, as if she were trying to smooth out the perfectly flat surface. “We don’t share a bed.” She almost whispered it. “He hasn’t been a man to me for years.” Ruth covered her face for a moment, and then she groped for Ana’s hands. Grasping one, she buried her face in it and started to cry.
Unable to find consoling words, Ana stroked the back of her sister’s bowed head and waited while Ruth sobbed out her grief on their clasped hands. They sat at the table, silent, and waited for Ruth to slowly regain her composure.
Finally, Ruth looked up. “Please don’t ask me any more. Matt would be furious if he knew I was here to begin with.”
“I’m your sister. I will do whatever you need me to do. Let me get some fresh water in the basin and you can freshen up. You just sit still.”
The cool water made the signs of Ruth’s distress less apparent. After Ana stepped outside a moment to check on the children, she and Ruth talked for a while longer and then Ruth got ready to go. As she fitted her bonnet she said, “I didn’t mean to burden you with the problem between Matt and me. But I do feel much better now that I’ve shared it with someone. Please don’t discuss that part with Paul. I’d just as soon keep it between us.”
“I’m glad you said something. Paul and I don’t keep secrets, but in this case . . . well, this is different. I won’t say anything.”
“What are we going to do about the pistol? I got so involved in my own problem that we never did finish talking about that.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m going to bring it up again. Matt has to listen to me whether he does as I ask or not.”
“Be careful. Sometimes these things have a way of getting out of control. Maybe you better not say anything until I see what Paul thinks.”
Ruth’s shoulders slumped. “Sometimes I wish I was a man.” Opening her arms, she embraced Ana. “I don’t think I could keep my sanity if you weren’t here.”
Ana held her sister tightly. “I love you, Ruth. Please be careful, and come again soon.”
“I love you too.” Ruth stepped outside and Ana followed to watch her sister for several minutes, exchanging waves until Ruth did not turn back again. Ana returned to the house.
When Paul came home later that afternoon they sat outside in the shade of the house. The children had all gone to the river for a romp in the water, maybe, in September, for the last time that year. All except Eric, who busily chased chickens around the yard. Ana told Paul about Ruth’s visit.
“He said what?” Paul shouted. Eric stopped and looked at his father.
“Matt told her next time you lay a hand on him, for any reason, he’s going to shoot you.”
“I’m having a hard time believing that. Judas Priest, he’s my brother.” Paul came as close to swearing in front of her as he ever did. “I guess I’ll have to avoid him for a while, if I can, but I’m certainly not going to hide from him.” Paul frowned. “Sure ruins a good day, hearing stuff like that.” They sat silent for a few minutes and watched Eric.
“Let’s go down to the river and see how the kids are gettin’ on,” Ana said finally, anxious to clear the air. They started off on the quarter-mile walk to the Platte.