Book VI
Book VI
Response 1879
Chapter 44
Tuesday, September 2, 1879
“Patrick Joseph McKenna! Breakfast’s ready. You get down here right now, or you’re going to be late for school.”
“Coming, Mama.” A moment later, a head appeared through the railing near the top of the stairs. “Mama, I can’t find my shoes.”
Sarah McKenna shook her head. “If I don’t end up with grey hair and ulcers, it won’t be any fault of his.”
“I’ll go help him.” Abby got up. “And I’d better get Molly going, too.”
“Take a trumpet,” her mother said. “Maybe she’ll think it’s resurrection morning.”
Patrick McKenna appeared at the door to his study. “Won’t make any difference. Molly will ask if she can’t wait until the second resurrection.”
Just then there was a resounding thud as something hit the floor directly overhead. Abby and her mother exchanged startled looks and bolted for the stairs. “Billy Joe?” Sarah called.
They heard a window being thrown open, then Billy Joe yelling, “David! David!”
The two women stopped dead, staring at each other. Patrick whirled and strode to the dining-room window that faced the street. “Well, I’ll be,” he cried. “It is David.”
They stared at him. Then, as Billy Joe came shooting out of his room and down the stairs whooping and hollering, Abby said, “This is better than a trumpet. I think I’ll wake Molly.”
David pushed his chair back. “Sarah, that is the best meal I’ve eaten in six months.”
She laughed, pleased. “Knowing where you’ve been, that’s not much of a compliment.”
“Well, it was wonderful.”
“Now can we ask him questions, Mother?” Molly cried.
“No, Molly,” her father answered. “Look at those poor bloodshot eyes. David needs to go to bed. We’ll have him back for supper tonight—then we can all ask him all the questions we like.”
She gave a soft groan of protest, but nodded.
David watched her, trying not to stare. She looked wonderful. Even having just been awakened, she was still luminous. Her eyes seemed brighter even than he remembered them. She had on a starched white linen blouse with long sleeves buttoned at the wrist, and a dark forest green skirt that went to her ankles. She still wore slippers, and her hair had been hurriedly brushed and tied back with a ribbon, but the sheer loveliness of her made him ache.
“You rode all night,” Billy Joe said.
David wiped up the last bite of his pancake with syrup, ate it, then nodded. “I was going to stop in Parowan, then I thought, why not just go on and get this over with. So here I am.”
“And we are so glad,” Sarah said.
“Which reminds me,” David said. “Mary sent you a letter. Billy Joe, it’s in my saddlebags.”
Billy Joe grabbed an apple from the bowl in the center of the table. “Can I give this to Tillie?”
David laughed. “She’ll think she’s died and gone to heaven.”
Billy Joe raced out and was back quickly with the letter. He handed it to his father, who handed it to his wife. “Let’s wait to read it,” he suggested. Then to David he said, “We’ve been holding a room for you in the hotel. Your boxes are there. Tomorrow, we can get you set up again in the boardinghouse.”
David stood up. “Thank you. A real bed sounds wonderful right now.”
“You look real different,” Billy Joe said. “Your beard and hair is so long.” Before David could comment on that, he added, “Did you see any Indians?”
“Quite a few,” David chuckled. “In one place, about five more than we wanted to.”
“Wait,” Molly cried. “How come Billy Joe gets to ask questions, and I don’t?”
“There’ll be time tonight,” her father said. “For you too, Billy Joe.”
“But,” Abby exclaimed, “you can’t just drop a comment like that and not explain yourself.”
So he told them quickly about their two meetings with Po-ee-kon, not dwelling too much on how he had brandished his knife at Mary and threatened to kill them all. Then he explained how the old Navajo had shown up and helped them get away. When he finished, all of their eyes were wide, but Billy Joe’s were like silver dollars. “Neat!” was all he could think of to say.
“I’m sorry, David,” Sarah said, “but I have one question too. How is Mary? Did she have the baby all right?”
He smiled, feeling the deep weariness now. “She did wonderful, and Emily now has a new baby sister. I’m sure she’ll tell you about it in her letter.”
As the women gave soft exclamations of joy and began to talk excitedly with each other, Patrick took David’s arm. “Okay, that’s all. Billy Joe, you take Tillie to the livery stable and get her unsaddled and put away. David is going straight to bed.”
David slept for seven hours straight. Still feeling like he had been stuffed through a knothole, he got out a clean change of clothes and, stopping only to make sure Tillie’s needs were met, went straight to the barbershop. A hot bath, a shave and a haircut, and a set of clean underwear and clothes did wonders for him. Telling the barber to burn his old clothes, he stopped to look at himself in the mirror, then replaced his hat and stepped outside.
“Well, hello there. Are you new in town?”
He turned in surprise. Molly sat on a wooden bench. She stood and came to him. One hand came up and touched his cheek momentarily. “My, you do clean up real good,” she said.
“Well,” he said, “this is a surprise.”
There was a quick flash of the impish Molly he had met that first day in the post office. “I was hoping you might say, ‘Well, this is a pleasant surprise.’”
He laughed and moved to her. “It is a pleasant surprise.” Then his eyes narrowed. “How long have you been out here?”
“I’d rather not answer that.”
He nudged her. “Come on. How long?”
She blushed a little. “Not that long.” Her cheeks colored. “I . . . I wanted to talk to you alone before we all get together.”
He gave her a long look. She had changed clothes since this morning and was even more lovely than she had been at breakfast. Her eyes were clear and bright, but they were filled with sadness, where this morning it had been only joy. It made him want to take her into his arms and hold her, help wipe away the hurt he knew he had caused her.
He sighed, then nodded slowly. “I’m sorry you had to wait. Shall we walk?”
“Yes, but not up Main Street. The whole town’s already buzzing about your return.”
She was right, of course. Two people had already come into the barbershop to talk with him while he was being shaved. “You lead the way and I’ll follow.”
Her destination turned out to be just outside of town. It was a grassy spot in the shade of the cottonwood trees along Coal Creek. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, and a slight breeze flowing off the mountain just to the east had taken the edge off the heat. The creek level was low this late in the season, but there was still enough water that it murmured softly.
She led the way into the shade of the trees, and David realized she had chosen this spot deliberately. They were still in clear view of the road—thus maintaining propriety—but most passersby would probably not notice them. She sat on a fallen log and motioned for him to sit on a large stone so he would be facing her. She had not spoken since leaving the barbershop. As they settled onto their respective seats, he wasn’t sure if he should speak or wait for her to begin.
After watching her for a few moments, he decided the former was the wiser course. “Molly, I . . .” She looked up, her eyes anxious. He smiled. “It is so good to see you again.”
She instantly began to cry. “Oh, David. I am so sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” he said quickly. “No, Molly. Don’t be sorry. What you—”
“Please,” she cut in quickly. “Let me speak first.”
He nodded and sat back.
Reaching in the pocket of her dress, she pulled out an embroidered handkerchief. She looked away again as she dabbed at her eyes, sniffing back the tears. It took her almost a full minute to regain her composure. Only then did she face him. She took a quick breath, then another. Finally, she sighed a deep, sorrowful sigh. “I am so sorry for what I said that morning, David. No, more than that. I’m sorry for how I said it and when I said it.”
“Molly, I’m not looking for an apology.”
She waved that away. “I should have seen how deeply you had been hurt. But I was so wrapped up with my own hurt, my own frustrations, my own pain. And so I unloaded on you. At the worst possible time for you.”
“Molly,” he said softly, “you said only what needed to be said.”
She was fighting the tears again. “Perhaps. But it didn’t have to be right then. And for that, I am truly sorry. I was thinking only of myself.”
He smiled sardonically. “Well, it did feel like I had walked straight out of one ambush into another.” Then he immediately sobered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you were right.”
“Any more, I’m not sure that I was right,” she whispered.
“Molly,” he said sharply, “don’t back down.” Then immediately, he saw that this was getting them nowhere. He thought of that last puzzling conversation he had had with Mary Davis. “Look, Molly, we can hash and rehash what happened, but it gets us nowhere. The real question is, what now?”
“I would like to know the answer to that very much.” Then, before he could answer, she patted the log beside her. “Will you come hold me while we talk? I’ve missed you so much.”
He stood and went to her. But when he sat, he didn’t put his arms around her. “Molly, I’ve had a lot of time to think about us, especially these last two weeks when I’ve been alone in the saddle for ten or twelve hours a day. And finally, just last night, I made a decision.”
“What?”
He turned so he was facing her, trying hard not to be lost in the beauty of her eyes, the loveliness of her face. “Let me start by sharing two things I know to be true. First, we can’t just pick up where we left off. Too much has happened. There are still too many questions, too many issues.” He drew in a breath. “And yet, I’m back. I have a contractual commitment to your father and to your family to help you make this journey. That means now—starting tonight—we’re going to be thrown together virtually every day.”
“And that’s bad?” She was half teasing, but half serious.
He didn’t answer. “The second thing I’ve learned is that a wagon company is a unique social setting, if I can use that phrase. It’s unlike anything else I have ever experienced. Everything kind of boils down to the day-to-day fight for survival. All the extraneous is stripped away and only the core remains. That significantly alters the dynamics of personal relationships.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”
“Because the experience has such a narrow focus, normal things tend to get magnified out of proportion—petty irritations can lead to massive blowups, minor disagreements can become highly divisive, harmless competitions turn into full-out contests. Everyone knows everything about every person in the company. It’s ten times more intimate than even a small village. If we are trying to work out some of the kinks in our courtship—and I think we both have to admit that there are several—it will quickly become everyone’s business. For example, if we were on the trail right now having this talk, before we could even get back to the wagons, everyone in the company would be wondering what we were saying.”
“My goodness,” she said. “I hadn’t considered that.”
“This is going to be hard enough for us without that kind of intense scrutiny.”
“So are you saying it’s over between us?” she asked slowly.
“No, Molly! I love you. Perhaps more now than when I left. But that doesn’t change things. We still have much to work out. And maybe it won’t work out. All I’m saying is that I don’t think we can work it out in this particular setting.”
He saw the first glimmer of hope in her eyes. “But after we get there?” she asked.
“Yes! Then we go at it straightaway, give it our all, see if this is meant to be.” He was leaning forward in his earnestness. He took her hand. “Silas says he hopes that once we determine which road to take, then—”
Her startled look stopped him. “Yeah,” he said glumly, “I’ll say more about that tonight, but the route we took isn’t going to work. We’re looking for another way.” He ignored her questioning look and plowed on. “Silas says that once we decide which way to go, he hopes we can be there in no more than six weeks. Even if it’s another month before we leave, that’s still only three more months, Molly. Isn’t it worth putting things on hold for three months rather than risk having them fall apart altogether?”
She was searching his face. “So you’re not just trying to find a way to let me down easy, tell me that it’s over, that you want nothing more to do with me.”
He was incredulous. “Is that what you think?”
“If you did, I wouldn’t blame you.” Then she shook her head. “No, David, I see what you’re saying. And though it makes me want to cry, I can see the wisdom in it.”
An immense relief washed over him. It had taken him a long time, but he had finally decided this was what Mary had been trying to tell him. Putting a ring on Molly’s finger or making promises to each other would only complicate things and destroy any chance they had. “So you agree?”
She hesitated, then smiled, though it was tentative and filled with sorrow. “I think so. Tell me what that means. We can’t just ignore what has already happened between us.”
“You’re right, but we can set it aside for now, put it on the shelf, as it were.”
“Be more specific,” she said.
“Okay, tonight we tell your parents that we are no longer officially courting. They’ll think it’s because of what happened, but that’s all right. We become just friends. We don’t go off and have long talks like this one. No physical affection, not even holding hands.”
Her head dropped. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Then she looked up again. “I don’t know if I can do what you say,” she whispered.
“You can—if you think it is the right thing to do.”
“And you do? You’re really sure of that?”
He wanted to take her and shake her. I’m not sure of anything anymore! But he finally just nodded. “I am. I think it is our only hope.”
“All right,” she murmured finally. She didn’t sound at all convinced.
“Molly, think of it this way. You keep telling me that you believe that God is a loving Father who knows us personally and cares for us as His children. You say you believe that He intervenes in our lives, blessing, protecting, and watching over us. Right?”
“I do.”
“Then trust in that.”
Her mouth opened, then shut again as the implication of his words hit her. He could see that she understood. “I do trust Him, David. I do with all my heart. But the question is, do you?”
“I’d like to think I do. But it doesn’t matter. My lack of faith can’t cancel out yours.”
That startled her even more.
He was watching her closely now. “Can it?”
“No, I . . .” Her mouth set in a firm line. “No. You’re right. It can’t. I just have to have faith that He will help us work through this.”
“Then we’re agreed?”
She sat there for a long time, her hands twisting in her lap, her eyes down, but finally there came a slow nod. “Yes.”
He got to his feet. “Are you sure?”
She rose as well and stepped forward to face him. “No, not in any way,” she said, but she was nodding as she spoke. Her head tipped back as she looked up at him. There was a deep longing in her gaze. It was too much for him. He took her by the
shoulders and drew her closer. She closed her eyes and her lips parted a little.
But as he bent in to kiss her, she jerked back. “No, David. If this is the best thing for us, then we have to start now. No last farewell kisses. No last tearful good-byes.”
“I agree.” Then he stepped forward, took her by the shoulders again, and drew her to him. He kissed her softly, his hand coming around behind her neck to hold her there. For a moment she was startled; then her arms came up around him and she kissed him back. They clung together for several seconds before he released her and stepped back.
“That wasn’t a farewell kiss,” he grinned. “That was just saying hello after six months.”
She cocked her head to one side, her eyes teasing. “Eh? What did you say?”
And so he said it again.
Chapter 45
Wednesday, September 3, 1879
When David entered the lobby of the McKenna House the next morning, there was no one behind the front desk, and he could see that the post office wasn’t open yet. He went right to Patrick’s office and knocked on the door.
“He’s not there yet.”
He turned. Abby had come out from somewhere and was now behind the desk. He turned and walked over. “Mornin’, Abby.”
“Good morning, David.” She glanced at the office door. “Daddy and Carl are having an early meeting at the bank to set up things for the hotel after we leave.”
“Oh. Did your father decide to sell it, then?”
She shook her head. “He’s selling everything else, but he’s decided to keep the hotel. Carl is going to return here after we get to San Juan and manage it for us.”