Country Dream
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Aunt Lizzie was in her kitchen again, stirring the big iron pot on top of the stove. The fire was out but the heat from it warmed Aunt Lizzie’s body and made a pleasant smell coming from inside the house. She turned around slowly with a spoonful of hot porridge in each hand; the steam coming off the hot oatmeal caused the air to be filled with misty vapor.
The front door opened and a man stepped inside. He was wearing his best suit—it looked as if he had bought it that day—and there were shiny buttons down the middle of the jacket. “I came to tell you dinner will be served in half an hour,” said Aunt Lizzie.
“Thank you.” The man bowed slightly before turning to leave through the kitchen door. It wasn’t until he passed by that she realized who it was. “Oh! Mister James!”
“Hello, my dear.” He stopped in his tracks when he saw how excited Aunt Lizzie became at the sight of him. “Are you well? I haven’t seen you since our last trip here.”
“Yes. Yes. I’m fine now. And so are you,” she replied. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. The warmth coming from him felt good. Her cheek pressed against his. When they kissed, Aunt Lizzie knew right away what James had been doing while he was gone.
His beard didn’t feel any different this time than it had before, but there was a certain kind of sweetness in his kiss that she had never noticed before. There was also a slight scent of smoke and ashes on his breath. But most important of all was his voice. It had the same familiar ring it always did when he talked to her or sang to her. “You’ve been working hard again, haven’t you?” asked Aunt Lizzie.
He nodded. “It’s not easy, being the only blacksmith in town. People aren’t used to having their horses shod at a blacksmith shop. I do a lot of work for the stage line and for the farmers along the way too.” He patted his pocket to make sure his hammer was there.
“I even fixed up one horse for a woman whose husband is in prison. He was beating her so badly that the poor thing almost died. I couldn’t stand seeing it anymore.”
“That’s good. That’s very good. What did she want you to do?”
“Cut off the animal’s feet—all of them.”
Aunt Lizzie gasped. “Why would anybody want to hurt a horse like that?”
James shrugged. “Sometimes a man gets mad enough to do things like that because he has no other outlet for his anger.”
“But why?”
“Because he doesn’t know any better.”
Aunt Lizzie frowned and turned toward the stove. “Do you think we’ll ever get used to these terrible events taking place every once in a while?”
“They don’t happen often. We just have to stay vigilant,” he replied.
“And pray to God that nothing happens again.”
“Right,” he agreed, then turned and left through the back door.
There was no doubt Aunt Lizzie liked this new side of James. In fact, she wanted more than anything else to be near him, but he was already married to another woman. She couldn’t help herself but wonder if she could somehow change the rules and marry James for herself.
It seemed such a foolish notion though, especially after she heard the gossip about a strange man being spotted in town. The only problem was that the rumor made no mention of who it might be or where they met, which made her even less likely to believe it was true. Still, it was possible that this stranger was actually James, but then again…
After dinner, Aunt Lizzie helped her niece clean the dishes before putting everything away in the cupboard. Aunt Lizzie sat down on the front porch steps and watched the children play in the yard below. Then she took out the newspaper that had arrived earlier that day and began reading the latest article from the editor-in-chief.
It was about a bank robbery in St. Louis and how many people were arrested and sent to the penitentiary.
“What’s wrong?” asked her niece, noticing Aunt Lizzie’s troubled expression.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” she replied quickly, then folded the paper and returned it to her skirt pocket. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
***
“Mister James.”
Aunt Lizzie stood behind the table, looking down at her husband who was sitting across from her at the breakfast table. “Good morning,” she said quietly.
“Morning.” He raised his chin slightly.
She smiled at him and tried to make him feel welcome in their home. They sat in silence, each lost in thought. It was a peaceful moment that neither of them had known for quite some time. For the first time since she came back into her husband’s life, she had a sense of calmness that lasted longer than an hour.
“Did you sleep well?” asked James.
“Fine. How was your night?”
“Not so good.” He reached for his coffee mug. “I was awakened by the sound of horses neighing outside our door. When I stepped outside, I saw someone walking toward me carrying a gun.”
“Who?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Did you see the color of his skin?”
“I couldn’t say, but his hair looked dark and curly. That’s all I remember.”
“And you didn’t take a closer look?”
“No,” he admitted. “I should have, but I just stared at him until he got close enough to shoot me with his gun.”
She shook her head. “Well, you’re safe now. You can rest assured that nothing will happen.” She glanced over to where he was sitting. “You need to eat something to regain your strength. I’ve got eggs and bacon if you’d like.”
“Sounds great.”
Aunt Lizzie poured some water in her husband’s tea glass, then placed it next to his plate. “I’m going to start washing the dishes.”
“Mind if I join you?” He motioned toward the sink. “My hands are too shaky to handle the dishes.”
“Go ahead. Just leave the cups for me to wash.”
James picked up one of the cups and filled it with coffee. As he drank from it, Aunt Lizzie washed the dishes carefully. She knew he hated to touch them because of his fear that the hot water would cause his fingers to blister or scald.
It seemed as if every time she turned around lately there was some news of trouble somewhere—whether it was a bank robber in Missouri or a man attacking a boy for stealing apples. And yet, despite all this terrible news, she still felt grateful to be alive and well. Her husband’s words last night brought tears to her eyes when he told her about being shot.
She was so thankful that James wasn’t hurt. If he was, she might have been able to forgive him for not returning her letters, but she wouldn’t be able to live without him anymore. No one else in his right mind would want a woman that was so afraid to do anything except sit and wait for death to come knocking on her door.
But now that she had regained some control over her fears, she knew what she had to do.
She set the dishcloth down on the drying rack and walked slowly to the front door. “I’ve got to go into town today,” she announced to no one in particular.
“Going to buy supplies for supper tonight?”
“I’m sure we’ll need plenty of food since we had guests at the church last night.” She paused before continuing. “In case you were wondering why I didn’t invite them to stay here overnight…” She left the statement unfinished and opened the door to let in some fresh air. “I’m going into town to find my husband,” she added softly.
She didn’t notice that her husband had stopped drinking his coffee, nor did she notice his worried frown. The only thing she noticed was a sudden cold draft coming through the open door. In a split second, she knew she was in grave danger.
The front door flew open. A tall stranger appeared in the doorway wearing a black coat with a wide-brimmed hat and a gun strapped to his hip. She recognized him instantly. “Luther!”
Her husband leaped from his chair and took two steps toward Luther, who pointed the gun directly at James. “Get out of here, Lizzie.”
“Don’t shoot!” she shouted, backing away from her husband toward the stairs leading to her bedroom.
“I won’t shoot if you don’t interfere,” he said calmly. “Just get out of here and lock the doors.”
With shaking hands, she locked the door. Then she turned around, her heart pounding against her ribs. “How long have you been following me?”
“Since you went shopping.” He aimed his gun at her. “And don’t try to run. We both know how fast you could move when I gave you a good kick.”
She moved to the side of the house so that Luther couldn’t fire at her while her husband stood by, staring helplessly at the gun pointed between them. “What do you want? Why did you follow me?”
“Why do you think?” He laughed. “You’re the only person I could find in this small community capable of killing me. I wanted you to know that I was watching you. I even followed you yesterday when you came back from town.”
“So I suppose you’ve come to kill me.”
He shrugged. “Yes, probably, but that’s not why I’m here.”
“You’re just here to threaten me?”
“That’s exactly what I want to do.” He lowered his gun a little, then looked over her shoulder at her husband. “Take off your clothes.”
James stared at Luther with his mouth hanging open. “No!”
His wife put her hand on his arm. “James, you need to listen to what he has to say. Maybe then we can stop him before he does something foolish.”
“I don’t care what he says, I’m not taking off my clothes,” James cried, stepping forward.
“Now, Lizzie! Don’t encourage him. It will only make matters worse,” Luther commanded. He stepped aside to reveal the gun pointed at her husband’s chest.
Aunt Lizzie didn’t hesitate. She turned to her husband and pulled him close. “Do what he wants.”
When James hesitated, she whispered, “Please, just take off your clothes and stand by the stove. If he shoots you, I’ll be safe from him until morning.”
Reluctantly, James reached inside his shirt and removed the pistol belt. Then he undid his trousers, pushed them down as far as they would go, and stepped out of them. His face was red, his shoulders hunched and his teeth clenched.
But it didn’t show that he was scared. And yet, she knew there were many things that could frighten her husband and one of those things was being forced to expose his naked body to another man.
Her eyes met his, and in spite of everything, she smiled. “It’s just like last summer,” she whispered in his ear. “Remember the night we were married? You told me that someday you’d want me to wear silk stockings. Well…” She trailed off, letting her voice trail away in a whisper.
He nodded, his mouth still closed. Then his lips parted slightly and he smiled, a smile that lit up his whole face. He looked down at her bare feet. “Are you sure this is right?”
She shrugged, her gaze still locked with his. “I’m sure.”
“Then we have to finish this before he comes back,” he murmured, reaching for his shirt and pants.
She watched his hand move closer to the shirt. He seemed to be struggling with the buttons as he tried to keep his gun concealed under his arm. But she knew it wouldn’t work. There was no way Luther could pull the trigger without seeing her husband’s weapon first. And the moment he saw it, he would turn and fire.
But Luther wasn’t about to waste any more time waiting on the inevitable. “Now!” he yelled, pulling the gun to his shoulder, aiming it at James’ exposed stomach and pulling the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening and she screamed as her husband flew backward into the wall of the house. He landed on his side, his left leg twisted in an unnatural position and blood spilling from the gaping hole in his abdomen.
Luther had shot him in the middle of his stomach, hitting all the vital organs. The wound would bleed out quickly, causing James severe pain as well as a painful death.
Lizzie ran toward her husband, screaming at Luther, “You stupid bastard! How could you shoot James when you’re standing right here next to us?”
“I didn’t see him with the gun in his hand,” Luther shouted back at her. “It would have taken too much time for you to get him down.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to shoot him in cold blood.”
“We needed a reason to arrest him after we discovered his connection to you, and this was the best solution.”
“I wish it had been better,” she snapped. “He didn’t deserve such a horrible end.”
“You should have thought of that before you started blackmailing him.” Luther laughed. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about what happened. James isn’t going to survive.”
She glanced around at her husband and groaned. “Not James, too?”
“Unfortunately, he’s dead as well.” Luther stepped back, holding the gun pointed at her. He moved to the other side of the room so that if James suddenly woke up, he’d have no warning and wouldn’t have time to raise his gun before Luther shot him.
Lizzie stood frozen in horror. Her knees buckled and she sank onto the floor, covering her face with both hands. Then she let out a loud moan, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Luther muttered, looking down at the gun in his hand and dropping it to the floor.
“Luther!” she screamed, trying to push herself up against the table, but he was too quick for her, catching hold of her and pushing her over the chair. She felt helpless as he dragged her across the wooden floor and threw her across the room, slamming her into the opposite wall. She hit so hard that her head spun.
His hand came crashing down on her face. He pressed his knee between her legs, forcing them apart, and then his fingers plunged inside her. She cried out, trying to squirm away, but her efforts only made things worse. The pain became unbearable and it took her mind off James.
She screamed as she heard Luther moving toward James’ bedside where the doctor was working on him. They lifted James off the stretcher, laying him on top of it so he lay on his stomach instead of the bed. It gave the surgeon more room to work on the gunshot wound in James’ back, which was much more serious than Lizzie had thought at first.
As Luther pulled her farther away from the window, she stared at the door leading to the living room. If Luther went through the front entrance, they’d both be caught. But if he used the back entrance, he wouldn’t leave witnesses behind. His gun would remain in place until he reached safety.
She watched him step outside, her heart pounding faster by the minute. Luther moved to the back porch and walked along its length until he found the steps that led down to the kitchen and out onto the back porch. With one last glance at James, he opened the door and hurried out into the night.
***
James was in shock, wondering how he’d ended up in such a horrible situation. He couldn’t remember leaving his house for the church; he just remembered lying on the ground with Luther standing over him, staring down at his dying body. And now he was dying too?
He tried to sit up, but his head pounded with such intensity, he fell back on the bed, gasping for air.
The doctor was working frantically, pressing the bullet wound as deep as it would go, pouring water on it, and trying to stop the bleeding, but he wasn’t able to save James. In less than a minute, James was gone.
Lizzie rushed back in the room as soon as she realized Luther was gone. “Oh no.” She ran to her husband’s side.
“No!” Luther yelled back as he stepped forward from the shadows of the trees surrounding their property.
Lizzie looked up at Luther in horror and disbelief. “How could you kill two men within minutes of each other?”
“You wanted to blackmail James for money, and then you decided to kill him when he wouldn’t pay?” Luther asked. “That seems like a very risky proposition.”
“It worked.” She sniffed, wiping the tears running down her face. “For a while, anyway.”
“I’m not sure you want to talk about it anymore,” Luther said. “But since I know what happened, it won’t take long to arrest you.”
“Don’t!” Lizzie screamed. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“Then why did you run away the first time?” Luther stepped closer, blocking her way. “You must have known I was coming.”
“I didn’t think you were serious about arresting me, and even if you had, there was nothing you could do without proof of my connection to James.” She held up her arm with the gold ring on her finger. “This will make you look like fools to all your fellow townspeople.”
“There’s another reason for me to arrest you right now,” Luther said. “The man you killed this afternoon is our son’s father—”
“I don’t have a child by him,” Lizzie protested.
“We’re still married. There’s no question of his paternity, especially after you shot him. You’ll also be charged with killing a sheriff who was working under my orders. That’ll put me in a very awkward position. How do I explain why the deputy who arrested me was murdered shortly before I was set free?”
“If you knew what I was doing, why didn’t you tell anyone else about James?” Lizzie asked.
“Why should I have told my fellow officers about your involvement with James? No matter how I tried to convince myself, I never believed you were capable of shooting James in cold blood. Killing him would have put me in a terrible position because it would mean exposing myself to charges of murder and obstruction of justice.”
He stepped closer, making it clear by his tone that he meant business. He reached for her hand, holding her wrist tightly, forcing her to stand beside him. Then he pulled her closer to the door, keeping his gun trained on her as he closed it so she was trapped in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you killed your own son,” Lizzie said. She felt sick to her stomach as she thought about how James had died and what she’d done afterward, but she needed to keep her composure for as long as possible.
“Your actions are going to hurt us both,” Luther said. “And we don’t deserve such pain.”
Lizzie didn’t reply, knowing her silence would only give Luther more reason to arrest her. Luther turned and took the pistol off the wall rack, and then he picked up James’s gun, which had been dropped during the scuffle. “Now, let me see the other one.”
With trembling hands, Lizzie removed the gold ring from her finger and placed it on the table next to Luther’s gun. “That’s enough proof for you, isn’t it?”
Luther didn’t say anything but kept looking at the ring. After a moment he returned it to her. “I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I’ve got no choice. I’m putting you under arrest for the murders of James and Luther, and then I’ll have to kill you.”
“Wait.” She held out her arms for protection, hoping she might be able to talk him into letting her go free instead of killing her. “What do you want?”
“To ask a favor.” Luther’s voice was calm and controlled, but Lizzie detected something else in it: desperation.
“What kind of a favor?”
“Let me take you somewhere far away where no one will ever find you or know what you’ve done.”
A chill ran down her spine. What could she do if he took her away, even to a remote place like Alaska? The law might catch up with her eventually, but at least it would mean she’d be safe until then. At the moment she felt safer than she ever had in her life—but she couldn’t stay here. If she did, it would only prove to everyone that she wasn’t guilty.
“I’ll do it.” Lizzie lowered her head in resignation and prayed that God would forgive her. “Where would you like me to go?”
“Back to New Salem, Missouri, with me,” Luther said. “It’s not an ideal solution since I’ll have to leave you behind to protect our son, but it beats being arrested and sent to prison for life.”
***
The two men left the house together and walked to the sheriff’s office to turn in their prisoner. When they were inside, Lizzie followed them, feeling helpless as Luther locked the door and pulled a chair close to the table in the front room. Then he took out his revolver and placed it on the table beside Lizzie’s gold ring.
“I’m giving you fair warning,” Luther said. “If I hear one word from you, or if you try to escape, I’ll shoot you in the back.”
Lizzie didn’t speak as she listened to the deputies’ footsteps outside the front door, and she watched the window, hoping that someone would come through it with information. But the only sound was the ticking of the clock, and it soon became obvious that no one was coming. She looked at Luther again, wishing she hadn’t given him the ring.
She heard the door open behind her and turned to see that a deputy had brought a wagon with three horses hitched to it. One of them was carrying a casket that smelled strongly of flowers. A deputy also carried a small bag over his shoulder filled with clothing and personal items, along with some food and money.
As soon as Luther unlocked the door and stepped out to join the sheriff, she quickly opened the drawer to the dresser where she’d hidden James’s gun after the night he died. Luther had taken it out of the drawer when she came downstairs, and he now handed it to the sheriff, who gave it to another man. Then all three rode away leaving Lizzie alone in the cabin.
“Well, this is certainly better than prison,” Lizzie said softly. “And it doesn’t seem like anyone knows I’m here.”
The sheriff and Luther rode on toward town while she sat in the front room, thinking about how strange it was that Luther would choose her rather than any of his family members. It made no sense because Luther was already married to a woman named Kate; why would he need a second wife?
And then there was the question of what she was going to do once they arrived in New Salem. Would they be able to get the marriage annulled so that no one would know she was married?
Lizzie waited for several hours before she finally went upstairs to change into the clothes and jewelry Luther had provided. By the time she finished, it was dark outside and the house was completely silent. She thought about waiting for help to arrive, but she knew it would take too long. In the end, there was only one thing left for her to do.
Lizzie walked to the back porch and stared out across the prairie. She wanted to be far away before Luther or the sheriff returned with the other deputies, which meant she’d have to ride without knowing the terrain around her. As a result, her chances of surviving were probably lower than if she stayed here in case they found her.
After checking her saddle for any signs of animal trails or game trails, she saddled the horse and climbed onto its back. With the gun strapped against her right thigh, she mounted and rode away from the cabin.
In spite of herself, she smiled at the sight of the starry night sky and breathed in the smell of fresh grass and wildflowers. For some reason, she never expected to feel so free in her whole life.
When she reached the nearest stream, she let the horse drink and led it back to the creek bed where she’d left her rifle. The sound of running water helped ease some of her fears, but she still felt uneasy about riding alone with nowhere to hide if someone happened to her.
That was why she decided to travel at night and stop near daybreak, where she could rest and wait for a few days until Luther or the sheriff found her.
Lizzie’s first stop was a grove of trees and brush off the trail where she’d camped with her mother years ago. Once she reached it, she stopped the horse, untied it from her saddle and tied it to the thick branches of a tree. After making sure it wasn’t tethered to anything else, she dismounted and walked to the river bank to wash and clean her face.
Then she took out some bread, cheese, dried fruit, and beef jerky for dinner, along with the bottle of whiskey that Luther had given her. She ate quietly in the darkness of the forest and kept the revolver pointed out across the water so that she wouldn’t accidentally shoot herself while eating.
As soon as she finished, she lay down under a large bush for the night. It seemed that everyone in New Salem had been told about a new sheriff, including people in town who might be hiding out on the prairie. So even though she slept alone, she was still nervous.
The next morning Lizzie woke up to an empty feeling in her stomach. It was almost noon when she finally broke a loaf of bread, spread the butter she’d saved for breakfast and ate it standing by her horse.
She’d intended to go east to the Oregon Trail, but there was no telling where that direction was, and she had no idea how far it was, so she simply rode south until she reached a stream and then followed it upstream.
The sun rose higher and the heat became more intense with each passing hour, but Lizzie remained cool in spite of the sweltering temperatures. Even though she was traveling alone, it didn’t bother her anymore that she was a wanted criminal.
Somehow the fact that she was a murderess and outlaw hadn’t changed her feelings toward herself. Her only regret was that James had died rather than suffer through another night of terror.
She spent most of the day resting in a meadow near the stream and then rode until dusk before settling down on the banks of a pond. The pond was filled with fish, so there wasn’t much hunting involved except for a grouse. The bird gave her quite a struggle during the hunt. Lying in the shade of the pond, Lizzie rested until nightfall when she lit a small fire using a flint and steel.
It took several tries before she was able to produce enough sparks to ignite the wood, and after all the effort it still took forever for a flame to form. The last time she used such a tool, it had taken longer because she’d forgotten how to use it properly.
When finally the fire started burning, Lizzie poured water on it and roasted a handful of nuts over it before adding some of the grouse meat to her bread and butter, then she drank some whiskey.
That evening Lizzie thought of her mother and how proud she would’ve been of her daughter for having survived the ordeal in New Salem. She wondered if her mother ever dreamed that her daughter would one day leave New Salem and go west. Or if her mother knew about her plans to kill William B. Crain.
By the time she crawled into the bushes, Lizzie’s mind was clear for once. She could now see exactly what she needed to do. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d killed William B. Crain. In spite of everything he did, it hadn’t been easy to pull the trigger, and yet in a way she felt relief now that he was dead.
If she were asked again today, she would say with complete conviction that she had murdered the man.
As the sun went down that night and the moon came up, she watched it rise from behind a stand of trees.
Then she heard someone approaching from the direction of the pond. At first, she assumed it was someone who’d come for a swim, but when the voice was repeated a short distance away, she knew that it must be a person looking for a place to camp for the night. She quickly pulled out her rifle and waited as the sound grew louder and closer.
When she saw two horses coming up the hillside, Lizzie was relieved. It was good luck that Luther had told her of the men who’d ridden with him on his journey to Oregon and she was grateful they hadn’t seen her while she slept by the pond. She’d never have known which direction to flee.
Once she saw them ride past her, she moved back into the bushes and waited until dark to follow them. By then she’d caught up to them, staying on their heels for nearly two hours before they finally stopped at a ranch house not too far from a town called Elkhorn.
Lizzie followed them in, thinking to slip inside, getting the information she wanted, and then making her escape. But when she reached the front door, she hesitated to knock or ring the bell.
“I’ll just wait here,” she said softly as she sat on a bench outside the house. “They’ll be gone before long.”
The men who lived at the ranch were obviously friends of the cowboys. They shared many of the same characteristics: dark hair and skin; strong features; and big, square hands.
She watched the men as they made themselves comfortable around the table talking, smoking cigars, and drinking whiskey. One of them looked familiar. He was wearing a white shirt, which was rare for cowboys and probably meant he was a rancher himself instead of a cowboy.
Lizzie decided to approach the group and ask them where they worked, but as soon as she raised her hand, she realized she’d made a mistake. These men weren’t strangers who couldn’t identify her. They knew exactly who she was and why she was here.
The End