Heart Of Depth
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The night before the wedding, a storm blew up and knocked down the tent where Katie spent her last hours in solitude. After that, it was clear skies all around until early morning, when she stepped out of the carriage at the church door.
A light mist covered everything but the sky was blue. The minister’s voice boomed over the congregation. “Will you take this man to be your husband?” And then came the answer: “I will.” There was much applause as Mr. and Mrs. John Mathers took their places next to each other on the wooden pew in front of us.
As soon as we got home from church, Mary and I went upstairs to change for dinner. The house was filled with people who had come to celebrate. Mary put on her favorite pale green dress and tied up her blond hair at the back so it looked like she was wearing a fancy new bonnet instead of an old one that looked worn out by time and weather.
She looked lovely, even more, beautiful than usual tonight because her eyes were glistening with happiness. But my heart felt heavy; there would be no wedding cake or punch after the meal. My stomach twisted into knots when I saw my parent’s faces as they smiled and greeted everyone.
As soon as Mary sat down at the table, my father rose and started giving his speech. He had always been the best speaker among the men. “I’m sure you all remember Mary’s mother, Rachel, whom we buried six years ago,” he said, “and now it gives me great pleasure to see her daughter sitting here with the man of her choice.”
His voice echoed throughout the room. Then it stopped abruptly and silence fell over the dining hall. The only sound came from the clinking of forks against plates and silverware on the table. I tried to hide my discomfort as I watched my father walk over and sit across the table from me.
It was almost time to eat, and I wondered how many more minutes I could endure this awkwardness without throwing up.
“What are you thinking about?” Mary asked quietly, leaning close to me as if we were whispering secrets together.
“You,” I replied, unable to look away from my father. “That’s why it feels wrong not being able to have our first meal in our own home after a happy marriage.” The words rolled out of my mouth unbidden. I was surprised at what I had said, but then again I had never known that Mary’s mother had died.
Mary’s hand rested on mine, and she gave me a sad smile. “It is hard, isn’t it? To live here at the mansion after losing someone dear to you?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “It was easier when it just happened to you. You didn’t know how bad it hurt.”
She stared at me for a moment. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to upset you.” She leaned closer. “But do tell me what you’re feeling.”
I hesitated, not knowing whether it was proper manners for a lady to ask a man such a question. “I can’t help wondering how many more times I will cry alone in this big house while others laugh and share stories with each other.”
Her blue eyes softened into pools of sorrow. “We’ll get through it together.”
When the dessert was brought in, it seemed like we all enjoyed it even more than before. We laughed as everyone told amusing anecdotes. My mother served each plate with a spoonful of honey and sprinkled cinnamon on top.
The sweet flavor spread throughout my mouth as we talked, laughing some more. By the end of the evening, I felt a little better than when I had walked downstairs from changing for dinner. When Mary and I retired to our room, we both lay side by side on the bed staring at the ceiling.
The soft yellow glow of the lamp illuminated everything except for her face. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For saying what I’ve felt since I was a girl and you married my mother. It’s not easy living here and knowing you cannot go home to your family every night.
But then, neither could my mother. So maybe we shouldn’t feel any different, no matter where we live.” Her fingers touched her cheek. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if we lived in the same city or state.”
I reached over and took her hand in mine, gently brushing my thumb over the smooth skin. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“Well, that we can’t bear to live apart from each other anymore. That we’re not suited for living alone.” I waited for a moment hoping she would say something else to ease my mind. “Why won’t you tell me what you think about this?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you haven’t told me.”
I turned to stare at her, wanting her to understand my concern. “Don’t you believe me when I say how much I love you?”
Mary closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. “No, I don’t believe you.”
The tears sprang out of her eyes. I moved closer to hold her, trying to comfort her. But instead of feeling relief, I only felt more frustrated because I knew that nothing I said could ever change her mind about leaving with the men.
I pulled back and sat up on my knees, staring at her as she wiped the tears from her face. She looked so fragile and vulnerable in the dim light from the lamp. I wanted to take away her pain, but there was no way I could make myself into a man who would never leave this place behind. “There’s really nothing more to say. You have made up your mind.”
“Of course I have!” She sat up and threw herself across the bed. “And it is none of your business anyway! You should just let me go!”
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“Not now,” she snapped. Then she lay back on the bed and covered her face with a pillow. “I’m tired and sleepy.”
She didn’t speak another word until morning. When I finally managed to rouse her, it took her quite some time to become coherent.
“I must have had too much wine last night,” Mary muttered as I helped her get dressed.
“Did you enjoy our wedding?”
“I did,” she responded, giving me a wan smile. “So much so that it is impossible to think about anything else except returning to the ranch.” She stopped in the middle of fastening my shirt collar and glared at me. “How dare you keep reminding me how much I dislike it here. You’re only making things worse for yourself.”
“Sorry.”
“Good, then forget it!” She pulled out her hairpins and ran the comb through the tangles. I watched her for a few seconds. I was tempted to reach over and touch her cheek, brush a stray curl off her forehead. But I held back, unsure if it was right for a young woman to be doing those things. “It wasn’t very nice of you to say what I had already decided.”
I glanced at her, surprised that she didn’t seem to remember what she said earlier. “That’s true,” I said slowly, trying to find an excuse that would make her understand my actions weren’t meant to hurt her. “I just wish we had done it differently. That we could have talked to one another first instead of acting impulsively.”
“But I didn’t act impulsively,” she objected as she finished brushing out her hair. “It took me years to decide to marry again.”
“Oh, but—”
“Don’t argue with me about it!” She pushed the mirror toward me and gave me a cold look as she buttoned my coat.
As we rode toward the house, I wondered why I had been so angry with Mary before when she had told me she couldn’t bear to live without me. Maybe I would have said the same thing if I thought she really loved me as well.
maybe I would have taken her seriously and tried harder to win her over. I was certain that if she were still married, this marriage wouldn’t have happened. So why was I so concerned with keeping her? Why was it important to me that she stays when we’d only be together for six months anyway?
The truth was I couldn’t give up on her, even though I knew it would only cause more harm to both of us.
***
When we arrived at the ranch, Mary went inside to pack while I saddled the horses and put them in the corral. After I fed them, I returned to the house and found her sitting at the table with two saddlebags open. She hadn’t changed out of her dress from last night yet, wearing her hat and gloves instead.
She didn’t look at all pleased as she packed the clothes she would need in Montana. She seemed tense and unhappy as she stuffed the contents of each pocket into the bag, not bothering to fold any of the garments.
“I’m going to miss having a maid around,” she muttered. “It will take forever to do this.”
“Why don’t I help you?”
“If you insist.” Her shoulders slumped with relief as she stood up. “Thank you.”
We worked quickly, stuffing everything into the bags except for what we’d need today. We had a few hours left before dark to prepare for our trip westward. And we were taking our own supplies with us, so I wouldn’t have to worry about sending a message to town for supplies.
There would be plenty to do once we reached the ranch. With a sigh, Mary turned away from the saddlebags and stared down at the floor. “Will you tell me where you got your money?”
“What makes you ask that?” I asked.
“Your watch,” she replied. “I noticed it has diamonds on it and I never saw anyone wearing such a thing.”
I glanced down at the expensive timepiece hanging around my neck. It certainly wasn’t cheap and neither was its price tag. “The diamonds were a gift,” I told her, hoping it would satisfy her curiosity. “They belong to my grandfather who died recently.”
“A wealthy man!” Her eyes widened as she looked up at me. “He must be worth millions!”
“Well…”
Her voice trailed off for a moment. Then she asked, “Where did he make his money?”
“Gold mining,” I told her. “And now that we’re no longer working for him, I expect that I’ll inherit a fortune.”
Mary’s brows lifted as she gazed at me curiously. “You know, there is something very attractive about a man who works hard for everything he owns.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” I murmured.
She turned away abruptly and started packing again, but I was glad she hadn’t pressed the subject further. I wasn’t proud of my wealth; I only wished I could have earned it by honest means. Instead, it came from the hands of a ruthless mine owner, who had stolen the land from Native Americans and cheated everyone else who worked for him.
“So, how much can we spend each day?” I asked casually, looking at her with a smile on my face as she continued packing.
“Depends on how fast we ride,” she said, turning to stare at me curiously. “We’ve been gone almost two weeks, so we should plan on spending five hundred dollars a week.”
“Five hundred dollars each,” I corrected her. “Since we’ll need extra money in case of an emergency.”
“Right.” She nodded and turned back to her packing. “I’ll need three days to get ready.”
We ate breakfast early, then spent another couple of hours packing and arranging the bedding and clothing on the bed in the parlor. By noon we had everything arranged. All that was left was for Mary to say goodbye to the other women and children who lived at the ranch. But when the doorbell rang unexpectedly, Mary froze in place, her hands holding the saddlebags tightly.
“Who is that?” I asked quietly.
“No one—”
But the sound of the door closing behind someone stopped her reply. I heard footsteps approaching the front entrance as I pulled my gun out of the drawer and waited. When Mary didn’t move, I grabbed her wrist and led her toward the staircase leading upstairs.
I opened the first bedroom door and peered out to see a tall man wearing a blue-striped shirt and black trousers standing on the doorstep. He had brown hair streaked with gray and a square jaw that held a strong chin. The stranger stared up at us as if he was trying to determine who I was. My heart skipped a beat as I realized he knew I was here.
“Good afternoon,” the man said politely, glancing at Mary. “May I come in?”
Mary hesitated for just a moment and I could almost hear her thoughts as they passed through her mind. Finally, she shrugged and stepped aside. I watched as the man entered the room and closed the door behind him. A small boy followed close behind him carrying a doll.
Mary went over to the sideboard to pour tea while I sat at the table across from the man. “How are you?” I asked.
“Very well,” he replied, his gaze moving from me to Mary and back again.
My heart began pounding harder in my chest. Did this mean the man owned the ranch? If so, what could we possibly do to convince him to sell without bringing unwanted attention to ourselves? We couldn’t afford to upset anyone who might turn out to be a rival for the property. And that certainly meant the man in front of me.
I tried to calm myself before speaking again. “We’ve come to look at your horse,” I told him, hoping to divert his attention away from Mary. “And maybe purchase it if it fits our needs.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said. “It’s not for sale.”
“Why… why do you own this ranch?” I blurted out.
His eyebrows shot up. “I own a lot of ranches.” He smiled and added, “Not all of them.”
“Are you a rancher?” I asked. “Or perhaps a gold miner?”
“I’m neither,” he answered with a chuckle. “I own one of the largest banks in California.”
“But you’re not a bank manager?” I asked, confused as to how a banker could live such a secluded existence like this.
“No, I’m not.” He leaned against the edge of the table and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m a banker, but I also dabble in the silver business.”
“Silver?” I repeated, suddenly fascinated.
“Yes, silver,” he confirmed. “Do either of you know anything about silver mining?”
“A little,” I replied carefully, trying to hide my disappointment at learning he wasn’t a silver miner. I still wanted to learn more about this new interest of mine.
He chuckled again and shook his head. “Then it appears we may need to educate you.”
The next two hours flew by as we listened intently as Mr. Bancroft explained the history of the mines and their workings. By the time I returned to the parlor after lunch, Mary had already finished setting up her room on the second floor. It looked exactly as I remembered, except for the bedspread.
Instead of the red blanket, we’d brought along, Mary had bought a cream-colored spread and added a few colorful pillowcases to brighten it up.
“You’re going to love it, Miss,” Mary called down from her room. “It has windows overlooking the valley below.”
I hurried downstairs to find her smiling at me. “It looks perfect,” I told her and then paused. “Does this mean you’ll stay?”
She nodded quickly. “For as long as you want me to.”
I gave her a hug and turned back to face Mr. Bancroft. “When can I start work?”
***
By the end of the week, most of the horses were ready to leave. Only five needed any type of training before they hit the trail and rode off into the distance. Mary and I spent every free moment working with the animals until they were trained.
I felt a twinge of regret when I helped load our final horse into the rail car. We’d bonded over the last few days as much as we ever did in all of the years since I’d arrived at the ranch. But I knew this was only temporary—just a few months. Then we would ride off together and return to St. Louis. I was surprised by how many times I had actually started to say goodbye to Mary during the past ten days.
Our time in Arizona ended far too soon. The following day we packed and readied for the trip home. After loading the last of the baggage on the rail car, we headed south toward Tucson where we boarded a train for St. Joseph, Missouri.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Mary asked, glancing at me as we sat in the dining car. “I think you’d be right at home out here in the wide open spaces.”
I shook my head slowly. “There’s no place like Chicago for me.”
She nodded and then asked, “What made you decide to move away?”
“I… met someone…” I trailed off because that was as far as I intended to take my story for now.
“Oh, really?” Mary teased. “Who is she?”
I shrugged and pretended to concentrate on my plate of food. She knew full well there hadn’t been anyone since Mary left me. “Well, tell her hello for me.”
“I will,” I promised. “Perhaps next year.”
“Next year,” she echoed. “How exciting. I bet she’s a beauty, just like you.”
“Beautiful?” I laughed. “Me? A beautiful girl?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” she responded. “You are quite a handsome man.”
“So I’ve been told,” I admitted quietly. I wondered what Mary thought of me, whether she still saw me as an old maid with no prospects. Was she disappointed at finding out I was still single and unattached? Or perhaps she was just glad I hadn’t married some silly woman, leaving her behind.
Mary reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to rush. Take your time.”
We ate in silence for a while before I glanced over at her and asked, “Did you hear what happened to Mr. Bancroft yesterday?”
“Hear what happened?” She frowned. “I heard you were coming home. Did something happen to Mr. Bancroft?”
My eyes widened and I nodded. “It seems a bandit tried to rob the bank.”
“Bandits!” She gasped, then turned back to her meal. “Why didn’t you warn us?”
“I didn’t even know the details until just now,” I replied, not wanting to share the reason with her just yet. I couldn’t explain how I got involved with it anyway.
“Well, I wish you had said something,” she grumbled. “That’s all I need. One more thing to worry about.”
After finishing lunch, I returned to my room and pulled a letter from the pocket of my jacket. Mary might think me strange, but I found that sending letters eased the pain of leaving her each year. If she wanted to write back, I always encouraged her to do so.
I had to admit that writing myself wasn’t as easy. Each time I wrote, my heart ached because it meant saying goodbye again; leaving behind one friend who cared enough to write.
The following day we boarded the train in the early afternoon. As we rode south, I looked around the train and noticed Mary staring out the window. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the glass as if she wanted to be somewhere else.
But wherever she was thinking of, it couldn’t be here. There was only one place I could picture her—in Chicago. So I reached out and took her hand. I waited until she looked up from my clasped palm before I asked, “Where would you like to go?”
“To Chicago.”
“Would you rather ride home with us or stay out here by yourself?”
“Staying would be best,” she answered quickly. “I’ll miss you and Mr. Bancroft terribly.”
I smiled. That was the answer I’d hoped for, but she seemed to feel guilty asking it. And I didn’t mind. She deserved to be happy. It was time for me to stop feeling sorry for myself and find someone who could replace Mary in my life. I’d failed at that. I should have known better than to try to replace her. My life had never been the same once she left.
The End