Your Wings Were Ready My Heart Was Not
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“You’re sure you can’t fly?” he asked.
She gave him a smile, but it was forced. “I’m not sure about anything,” she replied. He reached over to stroke her hair back from her face as he sat beside her on the porch. The air felt cool on her cheek and smelled of grass and flowers and the river beyond their property line.
She closed her eyes in gratitude that she no longer had to endure his touch for hours every day. But now they would share only minutes, and each moment seemed precious. He took his time with her and didn’t try to rush into things too quickly.
He looked at her with tenderness. “We will have some very happy times ahead.”
She smiled again. She loved being with him, even if she did hate flying. “Do you want me to be honest with you? I’m not sure you know how to be kind.”
His smile faded. His fingers tightened around hers and he turned away before she could see his expression. Then he returned her hand to her lap and stood up.
“You’re right about one thing,” he said, looking down at her so sadly she almost cried out in despair. “It’s been hard for me to love people when I’ve never been able to trust them. I hope this changes someday because there are some special people in my life who I truly care about—”
“And I am one of those people.”
He shook his head slowly, and she couldn’t tell whether he believed or disbelieved her. Then he glanced over his shoulder toward the house, lowered his voice, and said, “I’ll make arrangements for our departure tomorrow.”
“How long will we stay in New York?” she asked as she followed him inside.
“As soon as possible.” He paused briefly near the stairs. “Will you go with me when I return to California?”
That surprised her. She’d thought all along he wanted to leave her behind. “Of course.”
He hesitated, then leaned closer to whisper, “You should know I haven’t always treated you well. You deserve better than what I’ve given you.”
Her heart raced like a bird taking off, and she tried to calm herself by breathing deeply. It was so unlike him to say anything nice to her, and she wasn’t sure he meant it. Still, she found it encouraging that he seemed ready to change.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have told him about her past with him. But she felt she needed to do something more for him. Something that showed him there were no secrets between them—that they would learn to live with each other as they had learned to fly together.
When she stepped back from his embrace, she felt relieved that she wouldn’t have to endure his touch anymore. But his kiss surprised her. For an instant, she thought she might lose consciousness. When she came back to life, he pulled away and stared down at her with dark intensity in his eyes.
“I’ll never forget the first time I saw your wings. They were beautiful.” He kissed her again and walked to the door with a purposeful stride.
The next morning after breakfast she helped Mrs. Brown prepare the wagon for travel. By noon, they were ready to depart. She’d already packed her few belongings into a trunk that was strapped on top of the baggage.
Mrs. Brown drove the horses and wagon while Susan rode with Tom. She held tightly to his hand, and they talked about what lay ahead. They were going west. But where in California did they intend to settle? She hadn’t yet decided whether it would be San Francisco or Los Angeles. Or perhaps somewhere else altogether.
They stopped often to rest the horses and check on the oxen. Once, Tom left her alone to tend to them. He returned with a large piece of bread and a cup of coffee for both of them. She watched him walk across the field toward his horse, and he turned to look over his shoulder at her.
The wind lifted her hair, and he brushed it back from her face. He smiled and nodded before heading back toward the barn.
After a long day’s drive, they finally reached a small town called Covington. It was late afternoon by the time they made their way through the streets, avoiding the cowboys riding in search of stray cattle.
Tom took them to the livery stable to rent rooms for two nights. While he went to get directions to their next stop, she waited impatiently for him to join her in the common area. At first, she didn’t notice what was bothering her until she noticed a couple arguing in front of the saloon. Both men were wearing guns, and they pointed them at one another.
Their voices became louder, and then both drew their weapons and fired. Bullets whizzed past Tom, who dropped the reins. One bullet grazed his shoulder and another struck him in the chest and knocked him to the ground. A third bullet hit his horse, shattering its skull.
Susan screamed and ran into the street just as Tom collapsed onto his stomach, blood pouring from his wounds. She rushed to his side, but he moaned softly in pain and curled up as if in defeat. “What happened?”
A cowboy in black leather chaps grabbed her and yelled, “Get her away from the man!”
Then another cowboy appeared out of nowhere, grabbed her arm, and forced her back against a wall. He pulled open the buttons on his shirt until he exposed a revolver tucked in his belt. “She’s mine now,” he growled.
The other gunman aimed his gun at Tom and shouted, “Don’t move. Don’t breathe. We’re watching you.”
She looked over at Tom, whose eyes fluttered under a mound of bloody flesh. His chest was soaked with crimson fluid that flowed down onto the floor.
“You killed my horse.”
“I don’t give a damn. Let’s not waste time with this.” He pointed his weapon at Tom and continued to yell. “We’re going to hang you right here tonight.”
Tom coughed and groaned, and the cowboy kicked his leg with such force that he broke his ankle. “You’ll pay for killing that animal,” the cowboy said.
The other gunman picked up Tom’s pistol and threw it aside. Then he pulled Susan to stand beside him, holding his gun at her head. “If either of us moves or makes a sound, we’ll shoot you both. And if we find anything on you that proves you’re working with the Union army, you won’t live to see tomorrow.”
Both gunmen left their prisoner and headed back inside, leaving Tom lying there bleeding and helpless on the ground.
When Tom didn’t answer her question, she knew his wound was worse than they had realized. How could anyone have shot him like that? Why hadn’t he taken a bullet for her?
“Where are the doctors?” she cried when no one else seemed to care that Tom was dying.
Mrs. Brown rushed to her aid, but it wasn’t much help. There wasn’t enough time to save him. He lost a lot of blood, and his heart couldn’t pump fast enough to compensate for it.
Her heart ached, and the tears fell from her eyes as Tom breathed shallow breaths. He needed an amputation, but neither the doctors nor any of the townspeople cared. All that mattered was making sure there were no witnesses.
She wanted to scream, but her voice failed her. No one came to help Tom. No one offered words of comfort; no one lifted his head or wiped away his blood.
The men who had killed him laughed and joked around, drinking whiskey and smoking cigarettes. As the night grew later and darker, they drank more and played cards in groups of five. She saw some of them laughing with Tom’s body in plain sight of everyone else. What sort of people would do such a thing?
As Tom gasped for air, she tried to wipe away his blood. Her hands felt sticky and slimy from it. Then he died. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t suffer much longer. The sound of laughter grew fainter as they returned to the saloon and drank whiskey with a few of their friends.
***
Tom’s death was not the end of the matter. After he died, Susan learned about her real father, and that she had brothers and sisters living across the state in Missouri. They sent word to Tom’s sister, Mrs. Lela, who lived near the Missouri border in St. Louis. It took almost four days for their messages to reach one another.
Susan waited anxiously at the depot as each train passed by, hoping it carried her family. When none of them stopped, she went to Mrs. Lela’s home and was met with a sad look.
“How terrible for you,” Mrs. Lela said after reading Tom’s letter. “You can stay with me while you wait for your family to arrive.”
Susan thought it was kind of them to let her stay, but she hated the idea of being alone in someone else’s house. “Thank you, I appreciate the offer, but my family is coming here. I don’t think this will take very long.”
Mrs. Lela gave Susan a sad smile. “You’ll be fine, dear. Just try not to worry yourself too much.”
The next day, Mrs. Lela told Susan they had received news of her parent’s death.
“What?” Susan said through gasps of disbelief. “Why?”
Mrs. Lela handed her a letter written by Susan’s mother. “They were murdered along with several of your father’s other friends. Someone burned down their houses and killed them with an ax.”
Susan read the letter over three times before she spoke again. “I’m sorry. I guess I should have known they might never come back.”
Mrs. Lela held a handkerchief up to her face and nodded. “Yes, I suppose they would be safe enough in the mountains, but now you’ll miss out on having a father.”
Susan stared at the letter with numb eyes. She couldn’t believe how cruel life could be.
A week later, Susan finally received a telegram saying there was a family member heading west toward Texas and would be at the depot soon. With Mrs. Lela’s permission, she waited in a nearby hotel until Susan’s brother arrived.
“Oh, Mary,” Susan cried when she saw her brother walk through the door.
He embraced her with warm arms. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other.”
“Too long!” She pulled herself away from his grip and ran to him with open arms. He hugged her tightly and kissed her cheek.
Mary looked relieved and happier than Susan ever remembered seeing her. “We’re so happy to see you! We missed you so much, and I can’t tell you how glad I am to know you were alive.”
Susan smiled, but her eyes showed sadness. “Me, too.”
Their reunion was short-lived because they were both hungry and tired from the journey. Mary went to find food while Susan stayed behind in their room. A few minutes later, Mary returned with two sandwiches and coffee.
Susan sat at the edge of the bed and began eating the sandwich. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. Mary sat beside her, sipping coffee and watching her eat.
“So, what brings you to St. Louis?” she asked once the meal was finished.
Susan shook her head as she chewed her last bite. “There’s not much to tell.”
Mary put her arm around her and squeezed lightly. “That’s all right, dear. There’s nothing left for you in Montana except sorrow.”
Susan reached for her cup and took another sip of coffee. The bitterness filled her mouth, and she grimaced. “I’m not going back to Montana. That place is horrible. If only the others would stay away from there.”
“I agree,” Mary said. “If we hadn’t moved south, they probably wouldn’t have bothered Tom.”
Susan nodded. “I hate to admit it, but Tom wasn’t a bad man.”
Mary raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Not a bad man? Why do you say that?”
“Maybe he didn’t like us, girls, to work in town or maybe he didn’t care for the money we brought in, but he was good to us otherwise.”
Mary smiled. “You really are something else.” She stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the street below. “I think you’re better off here in St. Louis, anyway.”
Susan followed her gaze outside, thinking how beautiful the city looked lit up against the dark sky. But the beauty was marred by the fact that she would never live in such a place again.
***
Tom’s first night on the ranch was strange without anyone to talk to. The next morning, he went hunting with Jack and George while Sam rode out looking for more cattle to drive to market. Tom shot one buck before George yelled at him for wasting his bullet. They argued about who would clean and cook the deer. By the time they returned, Jack had gone to get the meat cut up.
Jack came into the kitchen and set a basket of venison steaks on the table. “I got two dozen roasts to split up between the men. How many roasts did you want?”
“I think two or three will be plenty,” Tom answered.
“I guess we’ll just have to settle this like men,” Jack said and pushed Tom’s plate over toward him. Tom picked up his knife and fork and ate with his hands while Jack watched in amusement. “What’s the matter, son? Don’t you know how to use silverware?”
Tom chuckled. “No, sir. It seems kind of fun eating with my fingers.”
Jack shrugged. “You’ll get used to it. You should have done your homework.”
“Do you always act this way around the house?” Tom asked. “Or are you trying to give me a lesson?”
Jack shrugged. “Just kidding,” he muttered under his breath.
George came in from gathering some firewood and joined in the laughter. Tom ignored them and continued to eat while Jack laughed loudly. “Don’t forget to wipe your lips.” Tom did as he was told with a smile.
The next morning, Tom rose early and went for a ride along the riverfront before breakfast. Once the sun rose, the streets filled with people going to the bank or to work. Tom paused and looked down at the water, wishing he could fish.
After breakfast, he saddled up and went out with George riding at the front, Jack following with Sam trailing behind. They found a small herd of cattle grazing in a meadow near a creek, so Tom ordered Sam to bring the herd while Jack stayed behind to keep watch of the rest of the cattle.
After the men got their hands dirty rounding up the steers, they headed back home to help with lunch preparations.
As soon as he returned to the ranch house, Tom noticed that Mary was already busy making sandwiches and setting them in the cooler. “Where is everyone else?” he asked when he saw her alone in the kitchen.
Mary smiled. “They’re helping out with the chores.”
Tom glanced at the door then turned to go see where the boys were. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Jack yelling. “Get your hands off her!”
He ran outside just as Sam was pulling Mary out of a saddle and Jack jumped to catch her, catching one wrist in his hand and twisting it behind her back. Tom pulled Mary’s arms free and put them behind her back, but she still struggled to get away. “Let me go! Let me go!”
She kicked and fought, trying desperately to break his grip, but Tom held on firmly. He bent close to her ear and shouted, “Stop it, Mary. Stop struggling.”
But Mary couldn’t stop herself. Her body shook from head to toe and she gasped for breath between screams.
Jack grabbed her other arm and twisted it behind her, then forced her across Tom’s shoulder. He threw her to the ground, and Mary rolled over onto her stomach, kicking wildly. Tom tried to pull her back up and protect her, but Jack hit him hard on the side of his face with his fist and staggered backward.
Sam lunged toward Jack and punched him, knocking him to the ground. Tom jumped over Mary and helped Sam pummel Jack until Sam finally knocked him unconscious.
With Tom’s help, Mary scrambled to her feet and ran away from Jack, heading in the direction of a nearby tree. Tom followed after her while Sam dragged Jack toward the house with George running alongside.
“Stop!” Tom yelled to make Mary slow down. “Don’t run, Mary. We won’t hurt you.”
When she halted, Tom knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. She buried her tear-stained face against his chest. “It’s all right now, honey,” he whispered in her ear. “We’re here.”
For the next hour, Tom stood by and comforted Mary while Jack lay on the ground, groaning from his beating. George sat with her while Tom checked on the boys who were still fighting inside the house.
Mary finally regained control of her emotions and Tom led her to her room while George watched over the unconscious men. “Did you tell the boys to stay in the house?” Tom asked once he closed the door behind them.
“Yes, I did,” she answered with a shuddering breath.
Tom took the blanket off the bed and covered her body. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“Me too,” Mary replied with a quivering voice.
He pulled her closer to him and held her tightly, letting his eyes wander over her bruised face and neck. His gaze lingered on her slender throat and bare shoulders. For the first time since he’d known Mary, he realized how attractive she was—how beautiful, even if she was only twenty-two years old.
And she seemed to feel the same way about him as he felt for her. It would take some getting used to. He’d never felt anything like it before and hoped it wouldn’t change any of their relationships with each other. He was determined to try though; to do everything in his power to make Mary realize there were things much more important than money or social standing.
After leaving Mary alone, Tom went to find Jack. When he didn’t find him in his own room, he looked through every bedroom, but Jack had escaped. He went into Sam’s room to check on Sam, figuring Jack must be waiting somewhere nearby. As soon as he walked into the room, Sam came awake, startled by Tom’s appearance. “What are you doing in here? Where’s Jack?”
“I think he left. Did he say anything?”
Sam glanced over his shoulder at the window, then said, “No, nothing unusual.”
“Did he ask you to come with him?”
“Why would he want me to come along?”
“That’s what I want to know,” Tom said and went to look out the window. “Do you have a horse?”
Sam shrugged. “Sure, why?”
“Go get it.” Tom pointed at the barn. “And bring it around front. You don’t mind if we ride, do you, Mary?”
Mary’s eyes widened with surprise, but she nodded. “As long as Sam goes with us.”
They rode in silence, except for the sound of hooves pounding on pavement and wind whipping past. Mary gripped the reins tightly so they wouldn’t slip from her hands, and her eyes searched the darkness for signs of Jack. Tom leaned close to her and said quietly, “You’ll have to get up earlier tomorrow morning if you’re going to help me with the horses.”
Mary stared ahead without looking at him and didn’t answer. They rode for fifteen minutes before Mary started to tremble, shiver from head to toe. Tom slowed the horse to a stop. Mary clung to him and he wrapped his arms around her body. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed uncontrollably. “Please make it stop,” she begged between sobs.
“How can I when I don’t know who did this to you?”
She lifted her head from his chest and wiped her tears with her sleeve. “Jack.”
“Is that a fact?” Tom’s voice sounded far away.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “That’s why I need to leave.”
“Why would he do something like this?”
Mary’s eyes darkened with anger. “Because he hates me! Because we fought. That’s all.”
“Hate you? Why?” Tom asked with a bewildered expression. “I’ve been with you almost every day since I got here and you haven’t done anything to make Jack hate you.”
“Then maybe he has another reason for hating me,” Mary said in an angry voice. Her hand tightened on the reins until Tom saw blood seeping through the material. “I told him what I was—a lady-in-waiting and he refused to listen.”
Tom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. He didn’t know what to say. “What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t want to hear it,” Mary said. “It would be too hard for him to accept.”
“Accept what?” Tom couldn’t grasp her meaning. “Just because I happen to be a ranch owner… that shouldn’t make any difference to anybody.”
“It does to Jack. He thinks he can buy love, and he won’t settle for anything less.” Mary looked down at her clasped hands. “But you know, I still care for him. He was my first friend when I came west. We grew up together—played together and worked on the farm. But he always thought I was too pretty for him and he hated me for it.”
Tom frowned and turned to face her. “Why would he think such a thing?”
“Because I wasn’t born a boy like he was,” Mary answered in a small voice. “We both loved our father very much. My mother died when I was five, leaving him alone. The only other family I knew were his brothers, but we had different fathers.”
“So you were raised by your uncle?”
“No, I’m not sure if he is even my real uncle. I never saw my father or any of them again after we left Kansas to come to Texas.”
“Where did you grow up?” Tom asked.
“Kansas.” She smiled faintly. “That’s where Jack is from, too.”
“I see.” Tom waited while she gathered herself enough to continue the story. “When my mother passed away, we moved into town, where Jack and Sam lived. Our mothers became friends and our friendship grew stronger through the years. I was a tomboy and Jack was the opposite of me in every way. So naturally, we liked each other.”
“So you fell in love with Jack?”
Mary shook her head. “It happened slowly, over time, just like falling in love with anyone else. It wasn’t something you did overnight. You know, like people think.”
“People aren’t all that different,” Tom said. “You could fall in love with a woman, too.”
Mary laughed, but the laughter died quickly. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then continued their conversation. “Anyway, Jack and Sam are the best of friends. They do everything together… play, work, hunt, fish—everything.” She paused and wiped at her nose. “And there’s one other thing we both have in common… we both love our father more than anyone in the world.”
“You don’t mean that, Mary.”
“I do! No one could ever replace our dad. His memory lives within us. We both dream about him night and day, talk to him in our prayers and ask for his guidance.”
“What happened to your mother?” Tom asked gently, thinking it must have been terrible for Mary to lose her mother so young.
“I’m not sure,” Mary said in a low voice. “One day we found out that my parents were killed in a train wreck near Fort Dodge, Iowa. My uncle told me they died protecting me from Indians. That’s all I know.”
“I’m sorry.” Tom reached for her hand and squeezed it as he watched the road ahead. “Was it your first winter in Kansas?”
“Yes.” She glanced over at him and smiled. “It’s strange how much I remember. We built a log house. Jack and I dug holes for the foundation and laid the logs.”
“Sounds like you two were close,” Tom said.
“Jack saved me from a bear. Or I should say, he killed it and brought it back to camp.” Her smile returned. “The men were impressed and gave us both a reward.”
Tom chuckled at the idea of such a huge bear bringing them food. He’d heard the tales before; some ranchers had to use horses or mules to bring them water. “Did Jack get sick afterward?”
“No.” Mary’s lips curved into a wide grin. “He was the strongest man in the world… well, almost. If I hadn’t been so scared and ran right into the bear’s path, I might have been able to kill it myself. But it was a horrible thing… and I hated it!” She laughed and slapped his arm lightly. “I guess that makes me the stronger of us both.”
She looked out over the open land and he knew what she meant. Neither of them would be alive without the other.
Tom glanced at his watch and realized their time was running short. “Well, I better go,” he said. “We’re supposed to meet our guests at the main ranch house.”
“All right.” Mary stood, smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress, and straightened her hat. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Thanks.” Tom climbed down from the wagon and waited while she untied the team and led the animals toward the stables. After they pulled the wagons out of the stable, Mary followed him to the parking lot.
They were the last ones to arrive on the porch of the main house, where Tom introduced himself to everyone. One of the men handed him his badge and gun belt and he buckled them around his waist. Then Tom went outside to stand guard at the front door, which was guarded by another officer.
The End