© Copyright 2003 by Elizabeth Delayne: the next installment of the Lawton Springs Trilogy! See When Cines the Sun the first installment.

Beth Reid stood on her porch and rejoiced in the warmth from the sun. She'd pulled her golden hair into a quick twist at the crown of her head so that she could feel the rays of the sun on her neck. The rain had fallen for weeks but already the sky, open in a blanket of cloudless blue, was being captured by the night. She was not ready to lose the sun.

The land was a mixture of mud and puddles.

"Beth?" her youngest brother Zach came to stand beside her. His boots and pants were coated with mud. His brown hair was disheveled and damp. He had been in the barn, shoveling hay to make sure the horses had a dry place. Rain could lead to mildew, mildew to cholera, cholera to death.

She reached down and gently rubbed a streak of dirt from his chin.

"Why is Joseph not coming home?"

Their oldest brother had ridden out over two days ago now, going back to the town, over the river that lapped passed its banks, on a bridge he had predicted would wash away. She prayed for his safety. She worried over the frown that had been in his eyes for days.

And she hoped he had gone to Joannie.

"Joseph is trying to get home," she promised and knelt before Zach, straightening the collar on a shirt that was just a little too big for him. It would have been Joseph's nearly fifteen years ago, passed down to Jacob before it was give to Zach. "If the bridge washed out, he'll have some trouble. He'll have to wait for the rain water to be swept on down the river."

Zach nodded, his were so eyes serious for being such a young boy. Jacob had been so much older before he had experienced the sorrow and grief Zach seemed to constantly take in. He had been serious for months, his mood matching Joseph's, since their mother's death and since Joannie moved to town.

"Someone's coming—" Zach said suddenly and pointed out across the prairie. "Maybe it's Joseph!"

Beth stood slowly as she watched the rider coming from the east, a little south of the direction of town. The horse trotted at a fast clip, winding its way over the wet land scape. It wasn't her brother, she noted. The rider rode with a different kind of confidence then she would attribute to Joseph.

They were used to lone riders in the prairie. Joseph had friends, people from town, traveling men needing a place to stay for the night ... desperados, vandals, outlaws as well.

"Go get your brother," she told Zach, keeping her eyes on the coming rider. "Tell him a stranger's coming. He'll know what to do. Hurry!"

She gave him a little push to the door, without dropping her gaze.

Beth wrapped her hands in the folds of her skirt. Not Joseph ... but someone else. Someone coming in Joseph's place. Someone coming to tell her that Joseph ...

No, she prayed, watching the progress of the lone rider. She breathed a sigh of relief as he got close enough to wave. He wore buffalo skin vest and leather chaps. She recognized him from town, from the boarding house.

"Mam," he said when he finally made it close enough to speak. He tipped his hat. She nodded. "John Hawkens."

"Yes, I know," she said as he slid from his horse onto the porch. His spurs jangled as his feet touched down.

"I bring news from your brother."

Sarah breathed in a shaky breath of relief. "Then he's alive."

"Very much so ... and aching to get home, but there are matters keeping him in town."

Knowing her ma and pa would have expected better of her, Sarah fought the urge to pepper him with questions. She would see to his needs first, as her pa would have done if he had been alive.

"You're awfully wet, Mr. Hawkens. Would you like to come inside and warm yourself by the fire?"

"I would much appreciate that, Miss. Reid."

Beth turned and led the way inside, past Jacob who stood with the loaded rifle. He had already grown taller than her height and stood, with the rifle relaxed at his side, ready to protect and defend. With a smile, she squeezed his shoulder, letting him know that all was well. Zach and Mary, the youngest of them at seven, came in from the back room.

"Jacob," she said, leaning on the hospitality of the west, "go get some clothes of pa. Mr. Hawkens' needs something dry. Zach, go rub down his horse. See that it gets a dry bed and food. Mary, look after the stew. We all need a hearty meal."

"Miss. Reid. This not necessary."

"A hearty meal is always necessary,"

Beth turned to face him as he huddled by the fire, tossing in a second log. "You're more then welcome to the clothes. Pa's not alive to wear them. You might as well find yourself into something warm and comfortable. You're too broad shouldered for Joseph's clothes and it will be awhile yet before Jacob fits into them."

He tipped his head in her direction, "I thank you then."

"You've come from town?"

"Round about from town. I had several errands to look after."

"The bridge still holds?" she asked and drew a chair over for him to perch on.

"No," he sat, tugged off his gloves and turned his hands toward the fire. "I had to go north some ways to find a place to ford. The river's alive and dangerous. Overflowing its banks. The Indians know of ways."

"Did you grow up among the Indians?" Sarah asked. "I ... your blond hair almost hides it."

"The hair came from to my father. My mother was Indian—Blackfoot—north of here. We lived in their camps when my father would trap. I learned their ways. They paid little attention to the progress of the East."

"Mmm." Beth nodded. "The progress of the East knows nothing of the wildness of the west. My father was once a banker. He preferred to have the land under his hands."

"I have a message from your brother," he said, and pulled a letter from the inside pocket of his deerskin coat and handed it to her.

"Then he's safe?" she said as she took the letter. Her hand trembled.

"He's quite safe."

She breathed a sigh of relief and felt the tension recede.

"Miss. Reid—" Hawk was up and standing before her. He grasped her arms. She had nearly fainted, she realized, startled, as she looked into his eyes.

"I was worried."

"As he about you," he said and helped her over to the chair she had offered him. He crouched at her feet, worried as well. "Open your letter. It will ease your heart."

Joannie and I are safe. The boarding house, the Lonely Pony, and several homes are gone. I will stay in town to help out and come for you tomorrow. You are needed. Many lives lost. Much destruction. Pray for Ben and Cara Ann. She's been missing since the flood—

"Cara—" Beth lifted alarmed eyes to Hawks. "Cara Ann—have you heard?"

"They're still looking. Ben's looking. No one's given up hope yet."

Beth nodded and dropped her eyes back to the letter.

I have asked Joannie to marry me. She accepted. I've found my heart, dearest Beth, and I nearly lost her. I don't think I have to ask, but your blessings would be appreciated. She will finally come back home where she belongs.

Joseph

"He's getting married," Beth said and lifted her sparking eyes to Hawk. "He and Joannie—but ... the people ... Cara."

The elation faded quickly. Beth had known Cara Ann since she moved into town with her brother nearly a decade ago. Ben had already lost his first wife and his best friend, Cara's brother.

Hawk nodded and reached out with a hand and touched a strong finger to her nose. He traced the gentle slope before pulling his hand away. "Be happy for them, Miss. Reid. And worry not. They are both quite safe and have stories to tell you. Your brother was quite a hero. You'll be in town soon enough and see the damage."

She didn't want to think of her brother as a hero, as that would have put him in danger. "Is it terrible? The damage?"

"Quite. The town suffered from a mud slide—the buildings on the side of the hill, if not destroyed, swept on down by the river, were severally damaged. Most in the town survived, but those in the valleys ... the people not in town."

"Like Ben and Cara."

Hawk nodded and looked out the door, his eyes were watchful, worried. "I'm riding out to Fort Letterow for provisions. I don't know what I will find. The river will have reached many, on down in the land."

So many people. So many lives. "I will pray."

He only looked at her, his eyes almost pained. It was not the look of a man who believed, of a man who had faith.

"Yes you shall, as Miss Joannie did and she is alive now. The God, your God of such tidings, will answer you." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I—don't understand such things."

"Then I will pray for you as well."

"As will Miss. Joannie." He accepted the clothes Jacob brought with a nod.

"It is already close to night, Mr. Hawkens, and you will hardly find a dry spot to make camp. We can board you for the night. You can have Joseph's bed."

He looked ready to refuse, then nodded. "I'll take the offer, but I would prefer a spot in the barn so that I can leave without waking any of you. I don't need much rest."

She smiled. "I will set you a place to eat with us then."



Beth walked along the corral with Hawk, bright stars twinkling above them. He had thrilled the boys with stories of growing up in an Indian village, of his travels in the employee of the government, between the different towns of the west. He'd brought out laughter. The house had seen far too little laughter in the past year. The children, especially Zach, would be talking about Mr. Hawkens for weeks to come.

"I thank you for a place of rest, Miss. Beth."

"It has been good to have company." She ran her fingers over the leather Bible she had tucked into her pocket. She thought of Cara Ann, of Ben and she lifted another prayer.

Protect her. Protect him. Bring them back together, safely.

Hawk stopped at the doorway to the barn. He took off his hat, held it in both hands. "I will be up long before you in the morning, so I'll say goodbye now."

Beth smiled. "Don't be a stranger. You will always be welcome at our door."

He turned, his hand on the door of the barn, then turned back. His eyes were hidden in the shadows. "It was good to see children believing as you do. As Joannie does. I have never questioned my beliefs, until recently. The sky, the moon, the stars, to my people, are the souls of our ancestors. We look to them for guidance and hope. Your God is unseen."

Beth closed her eyes and pulled out the worn new testament from her pockets. She ran her fingers lovingly over the leather.

"I wanted a reason to give this to you, without making you feel awkward." She opened it to the place she had marked with a piece of an old ribbon and handed it to him. "It was my father's. He would keep it in his desk at the bank before we came out west. It's not the entire Bible, just the last part about when God sent down His Son to earth. I thought it would be easier for you to carry then my father's larger Bible."

Hawk took it, looked down and squinted in the dark night.

"I marked the book of John. It's a good place to start." She leaned so she could see the printed word for herself. "See, the verse says, ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.'"

"I don't think I can take this." He looked back at her, tried to push it back into her hands. She held her hands flat out and gently pushed back. "It's your father's. See—I can tell it means something to you."

"My father's not alive anymore, Mr. Hawkens. I assure you, he would want it in your hands, then simply held and treasured in mine. That's the type of man he was and that's how he would want you to know him."

Hawk shook his head. "Miss. Reid—"

"I think you've been given much to think about over the last few days. I want you to have it ... when you're alone, and you want to think about it some more." Beth took a step back. "What would be more wise to find when you look to the sky? The wisdom of your ancestors or the one who created your ancestors?"



"Joannie!" Beth swung from the wagon with Jacob's help and ran to her friend. A week had passed before her brother had been able to cross the river and several more days before he dared to take the whole family back across. The town felt crowded. Wagons loaded with family belongings huddled in the street. People walked restlessly along the planked sidewalks. A din of voices shifted against the murmurs of horses.

No one would have known that Joannie had survived a mud slide, nearly drowning in the river. She was vibrant, her eyes seeking Joseph's briefly, before she smiled and hugged Beth back.

Beth took Joannie's hands and squeezed them triumphantly. "I told you—I told you Joseph would come to his senses."

Joannie laughed in delight. "Yes you did. We are to be married soon. Within the week. The town elders want to make it a celebration. People need a time to dance."

"Then we have plans to make! Any word of Cara?"

Joannie sobered, her eyes going to the end of town, down the long road. "No ... none. Ben's out of his mind with worry. Mrs. Bryan has been caring for Abbey. He's barely been by and when he is ... Beth, he's so lost. I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

Beth closed her eyes and said another prayer.

Protect Cara. Bring them back together.

Joannie took her hand. "You've heard much from Joseph as he went to you, I need news from you. Your farm, the house? All is safe?"

"Yes," Beth answered as Joannie escorted her inside the pastor's house. They sat at the small table in the warmth of the kitchen. She told her of Mr. Hawkens' visit, of his kindness, then of the waiting.

"We are still waiting to hear from Fort Letterow."

"Then Mr. Hawkens' hasn't returned?"

"If he's reached the fort, he's surely been put to work. He works for the government in some way."

Beth nodded, acknowledging that Hawk's journey had been dangerous. "I gave him my father's Bible."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. He just ... took it, tucked it away in the pocket of his vest. I want to believe he's questioning, that he's seeking." Joannie knew Hawk from her days working at the boarding house. "Did he ever tell you of his mother's people?"

"His mother's people? You mean, his Indian tribe? The Blackfoot?"

"Yes—that's what he said. He was worried about them, but going to Fort Letterow to gain help for us. They will surely send us supplies, but the flood would have affected more than our town and the settlers. He said North. How far north did the flood reach?"

Joannie shrugged, and Beth could see the thought disturbed Joannie as well. Joannie had been an outsider in the town. John Hawkens had been her friend. "I don't know. If we can buy supplies, I have some money."

"Money?" Beth asked. "You?"

"Mrs. Wallace, the sisters' mother, she turned her savings over to me," Joannie explained, still a little uneasy with the idea, Beth could tell. "I have to see that's she's taken care of and who knows how long she will live, but there is some that could be used. Mr. Hawkens saw to it before he left. I'm sure Mrs. Wallace will be delighted to do something that I'm sure will upset her daughters. What do you want to do?"

As Joannie's words surprised Beth with hope, she simply shrugged. "Something. Anything. I just can't get them off my mind—I really think he was worried. If Mr. Hawkens needs to know about God, don't his mother's people need the same message? If we can do something, I think we should."



Two days later, in the midst of planning a celebration and wedding, Beth found that most of the people in the town resented her ideas. The elders argued that there were people in the town who had lost everything. Not everyone rejected her, but it seemed the dissenting opinion came from most influential.

Beth walked into Mrs. Bryan's kitchen and found Joannie standing on a wooden crate as Mrs. Bryan knelt on the floor pinning the hem to her new dress. It was a light blue, perfect for the spring. Joannie said the blue would remind her of the way Joseph rescued in the midst of a flood.

Beth sat at the table and reminded herself that despite the problems she did have a reason to be joyful during this time. "Looks like the dress is coming along."

"It had better." Taking the last pin from between her lips, Mrs. Bryan looked up at Joannie from the floor. "You're sure this is what you want to be doing? Going off to marry some strange man?"

Joannie beamed, her eyes dancing with joy. The only thing strange about Joseph was that he sometimes went for a day without speaking more than a handful of words. Joannie had known him since she was a child. He shared her passion for reading.

"We'll be sisters," Beth said. "For real."

"And I'll have a family no one can take away."

She twirled around on the small crate in her dress, much like she did two days later when Joseph spun her around at their wedding celebration. The sky was blue over the town square where then men had placed planks across the still muddy ground. A mishap group of unshaven men played a rowdy song on fiddle and harmonica.

Beth stood at the edge of the crowd and watched her brother dance with Joannie. She was sure he had not taken his eyes off his new bride since she'd walked into the church clutching Jacob's arm and a spray of wind flowers Mary had picked that morning.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

Beth smiled at Jacob and offered her arm. "That you may, my young man."

She turned and lifted her hand when she noticed the figure stumbling down the road at the edge of town. He looked haggard, tired, beat ... and very familiar.

The name stopped at the tip of her lips. Jacob turned his head.

"Mr. Hawkens—"

It was as if the world stopped. People around them turned, looked. The first wave of elation was quickly replaced by one of despair. Hawk had returned, without help, without a horse.



Beth found Hawk at a table in the hotel where someone had brought him a full plate of food. He'd touched very little of it, if any. He'd had a bath, as the water was plentiful, and he'd met with the town elders and whomever they'd appointed to ride to Fort Letterow in his place. Someone had given him a change of clothes, but he still wore his buffalo skin vest.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. He had his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. If she had not known better, she would have thought he was praying.

"You really take failure hard, don't you?"

She stood at the edge of the table and waited for him to look up at her. His eyes were sad, but not hollow. He said nothing, which she found a little disconcerting as he'd asked to see her, but waved a hand listlessly toward the chair across from him.

Beth pulled the chair and sat, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm very sorry about losing your horse. Have you had him long?"

"I trained Windrunner myself." His voice cracked over the words and he reached for his glass, drinking the water down in needy gulps. He raised it, meeting the eyes of the worker, and set it back on the table. "If he survives, he'll go home—where he was born, as he was trained to do. My mother will worry."

"Then you should go to her."

"I will, when my job here is complete. I know some people that ride that way. They'll stop by, see to her, to the camp." He leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his damp hair. "They've had their ears to the ground around town. I heard of what you and Joannie have tried to do for my mother's people. I wanted to thank you for that, first."

"Why do you always refer to them as your mother's people?" She asked the question not out of disrespect, but out of noting the emphasis he placed on the term. "I wondered over it many times, while you were gone. If were referring to the town, I would not connect everyone to my brother or single individual. Why do you not just call them your family, or your friends?"

"The Indian word doesn't translate directly into English. I would call my tribe a tribe, if in English it represented the feeling of family that the entire group is to each other. We are family. We take care of each other. We are not related in the eyes of the white man, but in our eyes, we are one."

Beth nodded. "Before the town came, there were few of us. Joannie's family. They were part of our tribe. We took care of one another, worshiped together, learned together. Would that be the same?"

Hawk smiled—not the pure, open smile she'd seen when he'd sat at her table telling stories to her siblings—but something different, maybe a little bit more, a little bit less.

Feeling a little disconcerted by the odd look in his eyes, Beth moved the conversation forward. "Have you heard much news?"

"Their food supply is low as the animals have yet to return. Some are sick. Many of the herbs and medicines have been taken from the earth. They would say it is because the white man has hurt the earth and it's soul." He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out the small leather bound New Testament she had given him.

Beth drew in a breath. "They would say?" she repeated and her fingers clenched together as short breath lodged in her chest.

"I lost my horse, Miss. Reid. I was alone." He looked at the Bible, thumbed through the pages blindly. Then he closed it again, his fingers tight around the worn leather. "I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the Bible you thought to give me. I walked for miles, starving ... and would sit and read when I could go no further. I read until I got angry and could walk again."

"I found myself questioning and yelling—all alone out in the wilderness—and all of the sudden if was like I expected your God to answer. And then I didn't need any answers. I just needed to know that He existed ..."

Beth swallowed. "And what did you find?"

"I found nothing," he said, his eyes riveted to hers. "But he found me. That's the only way I can explain it."

"Oh, Hawk—"

The breath released in joy, but she found no words ... nothing that could express the sudden elation in her heart.

"And when I came here I found that my prayers for my mother were being answered by the people who prayed most fervently for me. I could focus on my horse, or I can be thankful that God had a way to answer my greatest need."

Beth shook her head sadly. "You jump to conclusions. Without supplies we can do nothing. No one will help us."

"Without the heart behind it, the supplies would mean nothing. Without the intention, the supplies would never reach my mother's people." Hawk reached his hand across the table and held his hand, palm up.

Beth studied his hand—the hand of a hard worker, calloused, strong. The hand that had held a new testament in his hand as he gave his life to Christ. Here was a man she had found to be her friend. She placed her hand in his, looked up, and smiled.

"One day I will take you to see my mother and you can share with her what you've shared with me."

HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!







Return to Short Stories

Cybergrace Banner Exchange 2000