Dream Suit
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“Are you going to tell me what all of that was about?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” It had been so long since I’d had a conversation with anyone who wasn’t trying to arrest or convict me, I wasn’t sure how much truth to spill.
The house was in shambles, but it was warm and dry; the fire pit near the back door crackled as the flames leaped skyward toward heaven. The air outside was still, though, not even a breeze to stir the branches on the pine trees across the way.
“Did you get yourself killed out there?” He looked around at the debris littering the ground.
“Not yet.”
He nodded. “You’re lucky it’s winter.” Then he pointed up into the tree tops where we both saw the birds fluttering through the branches. “Those are snow geese coming south from Alaska for the summer. I don’t think they know anything is wrong in the world, do you?”
I didn’t answer him right away. After everything that happened today, I needed time alone with my thoughts. It would take some time before I could face my father again without losing control. But when I spoke again, my voice sounded calm and even more detached than I had expected. “No. They probably haven’t even heard about what happened here.”
“It doesn’t surprise me one bit.” His tone grew solemn as his eyes followed the snow geese down to earth. “But why did you do this? Why would you leave your home like that and ride off into the wilderness?”
“For a very good reason,” I said, looking away from the birds to stare at my hands resting inside my cloak. “I’m running from those responsible for murdering innocent people and stealing their land. You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard. If we can find them, maybe we’ll be able to stop them from doing this kind of thing again. That’s why I left my family behind.”
There were no tears on my cheeks; I hadn’t cried once since leaving home. Not after losing my mother; not when I lost my sister to illness; not even now when my life was crumbling apart. Maybe if I ever found someone I loved enough for that, I might cry over him someday.
As it was, the only emotion I felt was cold. Cold anger and cold resolve. This day had shown me something ugly about myself.
I wanted to hate myself, but the truth was, I was just trying to make sense of senseless death. My father’s words echoed in my mind, “I tried to protect you, but I couldn’t keep you safe.” I wondered how many other fathers and mothers throughout history had thought exactly the same thing?
I turned my head slowly to look at the man beside me. “You sound like your father.”
“Me? No. There isn’t much left of him anymore.”
His comment reminded me how little I knew about the ranch hand. How was it possible for a grown man to be so vulnerable? Even after witnessing all that he had seen out there in the woods, he hadn’t changed his demeanor much. The old scars along his knuckles were gone and he wore a new set of black boots, but otherwise, he looked pretty much the same as last year when I met him.
“Who were you protecting then, Joe?” I asked him, hoping to break through the wall of indifference that had surrounded him during our conversation.
He frowned and looked away from me. “You know better than anyone else that I didn’t go out there looking for trouble.”
The wind picked up suddenly and sent the branches above swaying wildly. Joe watched it with a curious look on his face and I realized he’d never experienced nature in all its fury before.
We stood in silence, watching the snow geese circle the sky for another few minutes until the noise faded away.
Joe took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring out over the prairie. “I think I’m getting too old for this kind of work anymore. It’s taking a toll on my body. I used to feel strong enough to handle whatever came my way, but these days…” He shook his head. “I’m thinking maybe it’s time for me to go home.”
“Go home?” I repeated his words. What he meant by that seemed obvious to me, but it surprised me to hear it coming from someone like Joe.
“Yeah. Home is where it’s always been, right?” He smiled wanly. “Home is where you belong.”
***
“What makes you say that?” I asked quietly as I gazed at his profile, wishing he would look me in the eye instead of staring off into space. “Your life here hasn’t been easy. You were born in Montana, grew up here, and spent most of your life working in this valley. Why do you call home ‘where you belong’?”
The wind rustled through the grass again, sending a chill up my spine. For some reason, I was having trouble keeping warm tonight. I wrapped my arms around my waist to hide the shivers that had taken hold.
We hadn’t spoken for almost an hour now, which surprised me since he’d been talking nonstop the entire trip back to town. I had to admit, he wasn’t bad company; he listened to me talk about my life, showed me respect when I shared things with him and treated me like a person.
He was smart, funny, and surprisingly open-minded, unlike many people who made assumptions based on my appearance alone.
Maybe I could have done worse than choosing this man to accompany me when I rode out to meet Morgan. He had kept me safe all these years, and he didn’t seem capable of doing anything violent. But still, we were strangers. Was there really any point in pretending otherwise?
“I guess there’s nothing to be gained by hiding the truth now,” he said softly. “When I heard about the killings, I thought maybe I should stay here for a while. Stay hidden until they find the killers.”
“Why? So you can help catch them or something?” I glanced up at him, surprised by the sudden change in his voice. It sounded like the walls that surrounded him were finally beginning to come down.
“No. I just… I don’t want to die out there.” He shrugged lightly. “It was nice knowing you.”
Before I could respond, he turned and walked away from me. I watched him disappear behind one of the big cottonwood trees and then followed him. After a minute or two, we stopped and stared at each other.
Neither of us said a word. We stood there in silence for what felt like hours before I turned away. He watched me walk away until I reached the edge of the road, then he disappeared back into the forest.
“Wait!”
I paused and glanced back at him. He stood in the middle of the dirt path with his hands folded behind his back. “How far are you going?” I asked him, unable to take my eyes off him.
He gave me a crooked grin. “Just as far as I have to. You’re not the only one who can leave now.”
I started walking again. I had no idea why I bothered trying to make a connection with him anyway. His feelings for me weren’t real, and even if they were, he was a free man now and wouldn’t give me the time of day.
My thoughts wandered back to how Joe had acted earlier when he told me about being shot. It appeared his wound might be serious. How had he survived such a long trip back to town without seeking medical attention?
He’d looked like death warmed over when he rode out of camp that morning. Did he need surgery and didn’t have any money to pay for it? Or did he have enough cash to cover a doctor’s visit, but preferred to suffer with his pain rather than go through the hassle of seeing anyone?
Either way, it was obvious he wasn’t in good health, and I doubted he’d survive much longer if he continued his line of work.
As I neared town, I thought about my own life and the decisions I had to make regarding the future. I couldn’t go home and leave my family to fend for themselves. They depended on me too much.
And if I returned, what kind of life could I hope to have in such a small town? It was hard enough for women to live here, never mind a young woman with her own business and reputation. My mother would certainly try to convince me to sell my ranch and go back to my old life. The only thing different between then and now was that she’d have a better chance of persuading me now.
And so I had nowhere to turn but toward the only person I knew could help me get back to San Francisco—a person who would probably refuse to let me return. It was ironic that I wanted to leave, but now I didn’t know if I had the courage to face the past or if I’d ever want to see my family again.
If Morgan refused to help me, it meant leaving behind everything I once cared for. But even more important, it meant losing myself completely, forever.
***
We arrived at the train depot early afternoon and rode our horses inside the building where I bought tickets for us both. By now, everyone in town knew I’d escaped, and I wondered if that meant I’d have to run into Joe sometime soon.
I tried not to think about the possibility, but I was already having difficulty sleeping at night because of his nightmares. Would he seek revenge against me someday? Maybe I could find another place to hide and avoid him.
That didn’t mean I liked him or could trust him. No matter how much the situation had changed since our childhood days together, I still couldn’t forget how he had abandoned me and my mother.
“What will you do about your horse?” Morgan asked, looking down at his mount. He didn’t sound worried about leaving his own animal behind, but then he hadn’t seemed concerned that I left my dog behind.
I shook my head. “I’ll buy a new one here.” I’d been thinking about selling the black gelding after I rode away from town, but now I realized there was no reason to. I was sure that if I took him somewhere else, someone would steal him and kill him.
Morgan glanced back at me with an amused expression and then looked down at his horse, who snorted loudly. He scratched its neck and said something quietly to him. Then he looked back at me. “Let’s say goodbye now before people start asking questions.”
“Why should they care whether we talk or not?” I smiled, hoping this might be the last time I saw Morgan. We dismounted and walked side by side up to the station platform. I waited until Morgan reached the ticket office before I turned to look behind me and waved.
I heard Morgan call out to me and felt him watching me as I went to stand beside the train waiting in the middle of the platform. A few minutes later, I boarded the train with my two tickets in hand.
I watched as the locomotive engine rumbled along and pulled the train onto the track with a screech of metal and a thud of wood on wood. Soon the whistle sounded and steam whistled, and then the train began to move.
It made a quick turn around the station and stopped just long enough for me to climb aboard. I was surprised when Morgan followed me up the steps. He climbed in and stood next to me as the train slowly rolled forward.
The conductor came into the passenger car and handed out tickets. “You ladies sit anywhere,” he said to us and walked off to collect the first-class fares. As each row of passengers got on board, the seats filled up quickly.
Most people sat down, and I was the only one left standing next to Morgan. For a moment, we looked at one another, and then I looked down to see that our hands were still clasped together. I let go without thinking.
After I settled into my seat, I studied the scenery as the train sped by. Once we reached San Francisco, we’d take another train to the city of Sacramento and transfer to a smaller rail line that would bring us closer to our destination.
By the time we left San Bernardino, California, I’d lost all interest in riding. The air had become stifling with the heat trapped inside the passenger cars; my clothes were damp and hot underneath them.
After sitting in the same position for nearly three hours, I was exhausted and felt like curling up in a ball. My eyelids grew heavy, and I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. I thought of my family again and felt a dull ache in my chest at the prospect of never seeing them again.
When the train finally stopped for the night, I was too tired to care about anything except getting off the train and sleeping under open skies.
A few hours later, I woke with a start when the train began to slow down and come to a stop. I looked out the window, trying to understand what happened. We weren’t moving, yet some sort of commotion was happening outside the passenger car.
I listened and heard voices talking and laughing and children crying. A man wearing a black hat stepped into the door of our compartment with a cigar in his mouth, which he lit with a match he took from a pocket, and then he threw the burning match into the bushes near our feet.
There were others following him, all carrying lanterns that glowed brightly against the night sky. They were men dressed in dark coats and hats and carrying rifles. Some of their faces were obscured by the darkness, but many of them carried pistols on their hips or wore holsters tucked under their jackets.
I gasped as I stared out the window to see other groups of men walking onto the tracks. One of them pointed and yelled something loud. Another man responded in anger and swung his rifle around to point toward us.
At first, I thought it was because Morgan was there in the passenger car, but soon I noticed everyone on the platform was pointing at the train. The conductor hurried up and down the aisle of the passenger car with the train lights shining down upon us.
“Everyone get down!” he yelled, and I jumped to my feet to help him gather up some of the baggage carts. He pushed me aside with his elbow, and I grabbed onto the luggage cart and pulled it along with the others as fast as we could.
The train started again after we gathered all of the freight and passengers’ bags and things, and we moved swiftly down the tracks away from where the shooting had begun. The conductor called out to a few people to stay on board while others stayed behind and rode ahead to alert the train crew about the situation.
A few minutes later, the train lurched to a sudden halt, and I knew we were close to stopping at the next station. We got off and joined a small group of travelers heading toward the station house.
As we walked through a narrow alleyway, I heard gunshots ring out. It didn’t sound far, so I turned to look back at the main street, but I couldn’t tell if anyone was hit. I turned and saw a man in a dark coat walk by the entrance of the station.
A few moments later, shots rang out from somewhere nearby, and I ducked down behind a wooden crate. A bullet whizzed past me. More shots followed, and then more.
“Come on, we need to get out of here,” someone said in a hushed voice as I peeked out from behind the crate to see what was happening.
Someone screamed loudly, and I dived to the ground. I covered myself with my arms as bullets flew by overhead. Gunfire erupted from the front of the station, and I realized it wasn’t just one shooter; we were under attack from two different directions.
The first shot that came from the front of the station blew up a section of bricks and sent fragments flying in all directions. The other shooter seemed to have disappeared into the shadows of the buildings. As the gunfire continued from both directions, I crawled over to join the others who were hiding in the alleyway.
“Stay down!” someone else yelled. “They’re shooting at everyone! Keep quiet, they’ll hear you.”
When no more shots rang out from either direction, I stood up to peer around the corner to see what was happening. I saw men running everywhere carrying pistols in their hands; some of them fired into the air while others ran straight toward us.
Someone screamed when a bullet whistled by her head. I looked back at the alleyway and saw one of the gunmen crouching near our hiding spot. He must have seen us or followed us through the alleyway because he aimed his gun in our direction and fired. Bullets struck the wooden crate near me and then another piece of brick exploded to pieces.
The gunman fired again and again and then stopped abruptly. When I turned around, I saw that he was staring right at me, and he quickly lowered his weapon. In the moonlight, I recognized his face. I hadn’t expected it would be so easy for him to find us.
***
“We need to leave this place!” I whispered urgently to Morgan. “This is no longer safe.”
He nodded and glanced back at the main street where more shots were ringing out and men were fighting each other on the streets. He motioned toward the station house, saying, “Let’s go inside.”
Inside the station, the station master sat in his office waiting for us with an expression of fear on his face. He was looking out the windows and watching the crowd outside. No doubt he was worried that any of those men might come in to rob the station.
One of the gunmen ran up to the desk and demanded to know what was going on. When the station master told him he was unsure what was happening, the man asked if anyone had been hurt. When the station master shook his head, the man left the station.
Other men came in and joined him in searching the station for signs of the gunman who had fired on us. They found no trace of the man, only a few splintered pieces of brick scattered across the floor.
“Did you see anyone?” Morgan whispered after they had gone.
I shrugged. “No one came in here. But the shots were fired outside of the station.”
Morgan nodded and said, “That means whoever fired on us probably came from one of those buildings.”
We went to check the station house for any wounded and to take a quick look around the surrounding buildings, but we didn’t find anyone in need of medical attention. We searched until it was late in the night, but we weren’t able to locate the gunman. After we returned to the station house, we ate dinner there before returning to our room for the night.
“What are you thinking?” I whispered after we had eaten. “Where could that man have gone? And why did he try to kill us?”
“He probably thought we killed the other gunman,” Morgan answered as he stretched out on the bed. He pulled his legs beneath him to sit cross-legged, resting his elbows on his knees. “But we didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t care. That man was trying to kill us, and he might have succeeded in doing so.” I stared out the window, unable to sleep. “If that gunman had caught up with us…”
“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Morgan said quietly. “And besides, we were lucky to escape that night.”
“You’re not worried anymore?” I whispered.
Morgan chuckled as he looked away. He seemed deep in thought. Finally, he sighed and said, “No, I’m not worried. But I won’t let that happen again.”
The End