Chapter 3
3
Charlotte’s visit haunted Micah long into night. He sat in front of the fireplace wondering if she was right. Was he killing himself in a different manner? He poured some whiskey in his glass and tossed it down as if he’d been a lifelong drinker. The truth was, he’d only started drinking a few weeks after burying his father, and he still hadn’t developed a taste for it. But it numbed the pain and blurred the memories.
In so many ways, it seemed as if Dad had died just a short time ago. In other ways, it felt like a lifetime. Micah could still remember Mrs. Aldrich’s kind and gentle words. She’d embraced him like a mother and comforted him after he found his father dead. She had urged him to remain silent about the fact that Dad shot himself. They would say he died with her men. Imply, without coming right out and saying, that he froze to death. No one would be the wiser, and no one would question the matter. After all, people and animals were dying all around them.
She had gone with Micah to leave his father’s body at the Hamilton ranch before taking her husband and son back to their place. Micah had been so lost in his pain that he didn’t even think about the cost to her. Here she’d lost her own husband and son, but instead of thinking about that, she focused on Micah and his father’s death. Worrying over what people might say or think if they knew the truth.
“Most Christians don’t mean to be cruel,” she had told him, “ but so often they are. They say things in such a way to offer their brand of comfort or what they believe to be biblical encouragement, but instead it comes across as painful reminders of failed situations.”
Micah eased back into the rocking chair and shook his head. He hadn’t been able to think straight at all after seeing his father dead. Lucille had just taken the situation in hand and told him what to do, and together they had arranged the bodies in the back of the wagon, and that was that.
“Why do you think he did it?” Micah had asked her. “ What did I do wrong?”
She had put her arm around him. “You did nothing wrong, Micah. This winter was just too much for him . He just lost his best friend. You did too. I know you loved Frank Jr. as a brother. He felt the same way for you.” She had been so kind, so loving. She hadn’t allowed herself even a moment to grieve her own loss.
“Micah, you need to bury your father. It won’t be easy because the ground is frozen hard. But we can’t take him into town and risk someone learning the truth. It’ll seem acceptable to most folks since your mother is buried at the ranch.” She had been so matter-of-fact with her instruction that it had gotten Micah through the initial shock.
“Make a set of fires over the ground next to your mother’s grave. It will thaw the dirt enough to dig down,” she instructed. “When you can dig a shallow trench, place firewood in the hole, and set that on fire. It will further thaw the ground. Once you get the grave deep enough, wrap your father in a blanket and bury him. Charlotte and I will come tomorrow, and we’ll have a little ceremony.” She had looked him in the eye. “Do you understand?”
In that moment, Micah realized she was trying to ascertain if he understood the entire matter. Did he understand that they had to keep the reason for his father’s death a secret? Did he comprehend the reason he needed to take responsibility for the burial? Was her instruction clear enough to reach through his pain-filled thoughts?
“I understood,” he murmured, gazing at the dancing flames in the hearth.
What he didn’t understand to this day was why his father had given up on living. Yes, they had lost much of their herd. Yes, he had refused to sell off livestock when Frank Sr. had shared Lucille’s concerns for the coming winter. He had ignored all her suggestions, even commenting to Micah that he didn’t believe in signs. He’d made a mistake that cost them a great deal of money. But that wasn’t a good reason to end his life. They owned the ranch free and clear and had enough money in the bank they could get by. Not only that, but some of the herd had lived and would need their care.
Micah knew they’d both been at a loss when his mother had died. For days, even weeks afterward, they were in a stupor trying to figure out what to do next. Neither one could understand how a loving God would take her away from them. They shared the misery, watching, waiting, wondering. Mrs. Aldrich and Charlotte were wonderful to help them through. Especially Mrs. Aldrich, who came to manage a variety of household duties and to have Micah and his father over for dinner several times a week. But over the years, that had ended. They couldn’t have expected her to take care of them forever.
The death of his mother had changed everything, however. Dad had never recovered from the loss, and his demeanor and plans seemed to fall apart. Micah understood, because his own sadness was great.
Often in the morning, when Micah first awoke, he wouldn’t remember that she was gone. His first thoughts would be of what she might have made for breakfast, and then the hard truth would settle in, and he’d realize she was dead, and the pain would come again as if it were the first moments after learning she had passed.
But that had been six years ago. And while Micah still missed her and knew Dad did as well, it wasn’t a good reason for Micah’s father to give up on life. Was it?
He supposed Dad just felt overwhelmed by everything. In that moment of finding his friend dead, Dad must have been unable to deal with the aspect of one more thing going wrong. He’d already seen that large numbers of cattle were dead, and he’d been so angry at being unable to prevent the loss.
But Dad had never been one to just give up. Micah supposed that was what confused him the most. And that God had allowed for it was even more baffling. Why hadn’t God prevented it? Why hadn’t He let Micah get back before his father was to the point of pulling the trigger?
“You could have stopped it from happening,” Micah said, looking upward. “But You left him alone to face all that was troubling him. Why? Why wouldn’t You stop him?”
Micah got up and poured himself another drink. It wouldn’t take long for the whiskey to numb him to a place where he could crawl into bed and sleep away the haunting memories and questions. He might have a new haircut and shave, but he still had the same unkempt soul and broken heart.
He had failed somehow. He had failed Dad and wasn’t enough of what he needed. Otherwise, he would have had the strength to go on. There was something Micah hadn’t done right. Some way in which he had forsaken his father, just as God had.
A small voice protested such thinking, but Micah found the whiskey hushed that objection. Just a few more glasses and it wouldn’t matter anymore. Another couple of drinks and he wouldn’t hear any of the accusations in his head.
Charlotte woke up early on Sunday morning. It wasn’t a pleasant awakening, but one that harkened from nightmares. She sat up sweating, feeling a sense of dread and regret. In her sleep she had been fighting with her father again. It was always the same. Never a dream of when they had been happy together—of Papa teaching her to ride her horse or to rope a calf. Never a vision of his pride in her, just his regret for her not doing what he’d asked of her.
The room was already warm, and Charlotte pushed back her sheet, anxious to rid herself of the extra heat. She got up and went to the open window. Flies buzzed around her as they made their way in and out of the house.
Gazing out across the yard, Charlotte noted the few trees they had nurtured to maturity over the years. Mama had chosen sturdy cottonwoods and honey locusts. Charlotte easily remembered all the years of carrying water to the young trees. The women in Cheyenne had a committee who pushed for women throughout the area to plant trees on the vast prairie. There had been so few trees, and what were there were mostly scrub and juniper. The fierce winds were hard on trees, and nothing much grew without great protection. However, with a little care and ingenuity, the women of Cheyenne and elsewhere had managed to cultivate some very nice shade trees. They weren’t all that plentiful, but they were deeply appreciated.
Papa had loved the trees and even went so far as to bring Mama several oak tree plants when he went on a trip to Kansas City. Mama had worked hard to keep them alive, but only one had made it. Even now it was dwarfed by the older cottonwoods. But she still had hope it would continue to survive. Mama was that way. She was always the one to keep believing, even when the rest of them were tired and drained of hope.
Mama had been certain Papa would change his mind about Lewis Bradley and had encouraged Charlotte to pray for him to see the truth. But Charlotte found it impossible to believe that even God could change her father’s mind once it was set on a matter. Thinking that way was the reason she had been so outspoken the day he’d died. Now her harsh and hateful words haunted her dreams and left Charlotte feeling that her sins were too terrible to be forgiven.
“I should never have argued with you, Papa. I hate myself for the things I said. Oh, how I wish I could take it all back.” Tears blurred her vision.
Charlotte wiped her eyes with the back of her nightgown sleeve. So many times she had begged God to forgive her and to let Papa know that she wouldn’t have really stopped talking to him. She would never have forsaken him even if he had forced her to marry Lewis Bradley. But why had it been so important to him? He had never said. Oh, he gave her the excuse that he wanted her to have a better life than her mother, but there had to be more to it than that. Lewis wouldn’t answer her on the matter either. Charlotte had asked more than once, but neither man would explain. They treated her like a child, telling her it was business and nothing she needed to concern herself with. Yet it did concern her. It was entangled around her like a captive web. It would alter the rest of her life.
A knock sounded on her door, and Charlotte had no chance to answer before Mama opened it and looked inside.
“Oh, good. You’re already...” Her words trailed off. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Mama came to her and reached up to touch her damp cheek. “Don’t you think you should tell me what’s wrong? This isn’t the first time I’ve found you in tears, and while this last year has been hard on both of us, I thought things were getting better. Instead, you seem to be even more lost in your sorrow.”
Charlotte sighed and embraced her mother. With her head on Mama’s shoulder, Charlotte felt like a little girl again, and the tears flowed anew.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t mean to cry.” Charlotte straightened and wiped her face. “I’m all right. Really, I am.”
Her mother gave her a thoughtful and tender look. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what has you so sad.” She went to the bed and sat down. Her gaze never left Charlotte.
“I suppose it is time to just admit my sins,” Charlotte said, coming to where her mother sat. “God knows I’ve begged for forgiveness enough.”
“Goodness, Charlotte, whatever could you have done that was so terrible?”
Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat. “I was hateful and mean to Papa. The last time we spoke—the very last moment of our time together on earth—I was absolutely vile to him.” Charlotte shook her head. “I told him if he forced me to marry Lewis, I would never speak to him again, and I’d have nothing more to do with him. Those were my parting words, and I cannot forgive myself. It haunts my sleep to this day. Papa died thinking I hated him.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Come sit with me.” Mama patted the mattress beside her.
Charlotte sat and felt the warmth of Mama’s arms go around her. “Your father knew you loved him. He did. He loved you so dearly.”
“I know he did. He just wanted good things for me. And sometimes when I remember how I acted, I can’t help but think that maybe the only way I can be forgiven is to just marry Lewis Bradley.”
“No!”
Mama’s emphatic exclamation caused Charlotte to straighten. Charlotte met her mother’s gaze. Mama shook her head.
“That is not what you need to do for forgiveness. God doesn’t work that way. Besides that, I’m not sure that forgiveness is exactly needed. You were honest with your father, and he was being quite unreasonable. I told him as much, and I still believe that in time he would have seen the error of his ways. I don’t think he would have forced you to go through with the wedding.”
“But he wanted it so much. There had to be a reason.” Charlotte settled back and wiped her eyes again with her sleeve.
“Your father had some sort of business arrangement with Mr. Bradley. I don’t know the details, and he wouldn’t explain any of it to me. Most importantly, I know he wanted a better life for you. He worried about how hard I worked and didn’t want his daughter to find herself in the same position.”
“I told him I loved the ranch and life here was important to me. I wanted to marry a rancher and continue with the life that I loved. But he said it was too hard—too much. That he hated that you had always had to work so hard.”
Mama closed her eyes for a moment and nodded. “He never understood that I enjoyed it. I was a part of something I loved. Just like you.” She opened her eyes and met Charlotte’s gaze. “But for whatever reason, your father could never understand that or believe it as truth.”
“I told him the idea of being a grand lady in silks and satins hosting tea parties and showing off my stately home was something I considered appalling.” Charlotte couldn’t even fathom finding enjoyment from sitting and painting china or embroidering handkerchiefs.
“He told me I would come to enjoy it in time. I have no idea why he believed that.” Charlotte got up from the bed and walked back to the open window. “He thought I needed a grand mansion in the wealthiest neighborhood of Cheyenne. He saw me living with servants and everything money could buy, when all I ever wanted was this.” She looked out at the open land beyond the yard. “He never understood that I loved this place as much as Frank Jr. did.”
“No, I don’t suppose he did,” Mama said, joining her at the window. “And now he’s gone, and Frank Jr. is too. And the ranch is yours, or will be.”
“Oh, Mama, it’s our home. It’s where we both have such special memories. More good than bad.”
“I agree, but I want you to know that even if you disagreed with your father and said hurtful things, he’s with Jesus now and knows the truth. You’ve asked for forgiveness. I think it’s time you accepted it and move forward. Any sin, if sin was involved, was nailed to the cross long ago. You asked Jesus to be your Savior and forgive you of your sins, and He did. He forgave all of your sins at the cross. Keep seeking Him, Charlotte. Seek to love as He loved. To be merciful and kind, as He was. Not to earn your salvation, for that has already been freely given through His grace, but rather to become more like Him.”
A sense of peace washed over Charlotte. She heard the truth of her mother’s words and knew without a doubt that she was forgiven. She even felt certain that somehow Papa knew her heart was never against him but rather opposed to marrying a man she didn’t love.
She hugged her mother close and sighed. What a sense of freedom. It was as if a great weight had been lifted. Perhaps now the nightmares would stop once and for all.
“Now, you’d better get dressed. We’re going to need to leave pretty soon if we want to get to church on time.”
“Mrs. Aldrich!” Nora called from downstairs.
Charlotte let go of her mother and followed her to the bedroom door. Mother walked out into the hall.
“What is it, Nora?”
“One of the hands has gotten himself hurt. Thrown from his horse and he’s bleeding—head wound.”
Mama looked back at Charlotte. “I don’t suppose we’ll be able to go to church after all. It seems I must tend a head wound.”
“I’ll get dressed and be right down to help. You might have to stitch him up, and you know how badly head wounds bleed.”
Her mother nodded and smiled. “You really are very good at this life. Your father would have seen that eventually.”