Maggie's Valley (Strong Hearts, Open Spirits Book 1) Read online

  Both animals were still contentedly working their way through the young grass in the corral but they lifted their heads at her approach. The proffered carrots brought them running. Maggie smiled as they raced each other to the fence line and stretched greedy mouths toward her. The spring was still bubbling water gently over the trough making the ground around it soggy but that could wait. Patting the animals and content that they would be happy where they were for the night she returned to her cooking.

  With the potatoes now tender she picked up the little rivels and gently dropped them bit by bit into the boiling water, their floury texture causing the water to turn first foggy then to a thick soup as the noodles plumped. She served herself a large bowl of the hot mixture, and then sat down at the table and with eyes wide open looked out the now clean window to the far grass lands spread before her. A soft, quiet peace settled over her as she gazed into the darkening valley.

  “Thank you.” she whispered reverently, and then hungrily dug into her rivel soup. That night, sore and exhausted but content for the first time in a long time Maggie wrapped herself in the bedroll she had retrieved from the barn and lay down beside the cook stove that still filled the kitchen with heat and slept.

  The next morning found Maggie stiff and sore and her whole body protested when she forced herself out of bed. Her lower back ached, her hands were raw from scrubbing, and her arms felt like lead. Slowly she moved to the window to look out at the horses still grazing in the paddock. One of her ropes had come untied and flapped lazily in the wind. She would have to fix that corral for real sometime soon. She stoked up the fire in the cook stove, relishing in the heat on this brisk spring day, then put a frying pan on the heat and began slicing potatoes.

  While the potatoes fried, she opened her Bible and read. It would be hard to find a few quiet moments to read now that she had so much to do, but today she could just find the time. Her Bible flopped open to Psalm 23, and her heart lurched. How many times over the past three months had she found solace in those words? Quietness despite the tears, struggle and anguish. But today this was not what she needed to read and gently she turned the pages to the words spoken to Moses. “And I will lead you into a new land…” She smiled and closed her eyes. “Thank you lord for bringing me to this new land that is old to me. For somehow seeing me safely here. I don’t know why I survived this terrible epidemic but I thank you despite the sorrow and loss. I trust in you for a new start and a new purpose. Amen.”

  After breakfast Maggie walked across the dew damp grass and greeted her steeds. This time they each only got half a carrot. “You’ll just have to wait until I plant some and then you can have loads.” She declared as the animals crunched through their new favorite treat. She smiled. Checked them over carefully and then returned to the cabin.

  Over the next week Maggie, still thin and somewhat frail found new strength that she didn’t now she had as she cleaned the rest of the cabin. The loft was a mess with animal droppings and nests in evidence but the worst was entering the small cube that had been her parents’ room. One of the shutters had come loose and hung at an angle but was still held up by its top hinge and latch. The window was filthy but no panes were broken. The large steel bed still stood against the wall facing the window and a heavy chest of drawers stood on the blank wall that would have faced the fire place in the outer room.

  A lump rose in her throat as she thought of the many happy days when she was a small girl living here. She would dash from her trundle in the kitchen before the sun was over the horizon and pounce on her parents cuddled close in their bed. When her mother had died; everything changed. Her father tried to carry on but he seemed lost without her and increasingly felt that Maggie was growing too wild with her ma gone. He had his hands full running the small ranch and trying to keep her out of trouble. She rode everywhere with him. Astride her pinto pony and quite unafraid of anything she came across. At only eight years old he had taught her to use a pistol because he worried she would run into a snake or something worse when off riding on her own.

  Eventually it got to be too much so he packed up their clothes, locked up the cabin and driving some fifty head of fat stock in front of them headed to Sawbrush. At first it was a big adventure to Maggie but when she realized that they were selling all the stock, even her pony, she was devastated. The majority of the train ride to Philadelphia was filled with tears and tantrums.

  Grown now and completely on her own, Maggie smiled a sad smile. She had to admit that she may have grown to be a real terror if her father hadn’t decided to move back to the big city with his family, still she always missed what she considered her true home. Letting the memories wash over her she set about cleaning the room. The old mattress was worthless so she dragged it out to the wood shed at the back of the cabin and would use if for kindling throughout the winter. Then she rolled up her sleeves and got started.

  Over the next two weeks she first made the house habitable throughout. She padded her bed with dried straw that she tossed out of doors to winnow the dust from it. She bound it with twine, laid it across the slats of the bed and topped it with her new blankets. She mended the shutter and latched it open, lifting the difficult window and catching a cross breeze through the house.

  She then turned her attention to the barn. At the back of the barn where the farm equipment was stored she found nails, and tools that her father had turned his back on when he left this mountain home. She fixed the old barn doors on both ends of the barn and oiled the hinges. She arranged her saddle and pack saddle along the stalls and hung bridles, halters, and ropes on pegs at the entrance to each stall. There was straw left for bedding in the upstairs loft but no hay of any value. For now, the horses would have to make do on open grass. The grass in the coral was quickly dwindling so she knew she would have to figure out what to do with her ever fattening horse and mule soon but they would be alright for another day or two.

  Finally, she turned to making her garden. This would be a completely new challenge since as a girl she had never actually done it, instead she had simply perched upon the back of the large grade horse they had while her father walked behind the plow.

  “Well Lord,” she whispered over her supper of fried bacon, potatoes and onion. “You brought the children of Israel through forty years in the wilderness, I’m pretty sure you can see me through this.”

  That night a storm rolled in over the mountains. The sky grew dark and blustery, before sunset, and the darkness and gloom pressed in. With the wind blowing dust clouds around the front yard, Maggie walked out to the barn where the scrappy little buckskin and the mule stood side by side watching the storm move in from the overhang of the barn roof.

  “Well you boys are going inside for tonight at least.” Maggie said conversationally then pulling a carrot out of her pocket walked them into the big stall and closed the doors while they crunched their prize. She wished she had hay for them but they were fat and sleek and could manage one night in the barn.

  The first great, rain drops, plopped heavily on the ground and onto her uncovered head as she dashed across the yard to the house and sealed up the shutters against the wind. With the windows pulled down tight the gloom settled inside the cabin that for the first time made her feel truly alone.

  She thought of David, of his soft laughter, his warm hugs and his even tones when he would read to her at night. On this night, for the first time she pulled down the old oil lamp and coaxed it into light. She had precious little fuel for it and didn’t wish to waist it. Still tonight seemed like a night for light.

  Outside the storm settled over the valley and the harsh wind battered the sturdy walls of the cabin. Lighting flashed through the slats in the shutters, and rain pelted the slate roof. Thankfully it didn’t leak which Maggie blessed heaven above for. Although it was black as night outside it was still early so Maggie pulled her resources together and mixed up a batch of bread then left it to proof on the back of the cook stove while she began sewing curtains for
her windows.

  She had bought good but inexpensive fabrics and this one a cheerful blue with small white flowers seemed just the thing to hang over her windows. She glanced up at the wooden patch she had sealed over the one broken pane in the front window and hoped it wouldn’t leak but so far there had been no evidence of water seeping in to the snug home. As she sewed she began to sing, her soft voice keeping rhythm with her needle and thread.

  As the night wore on she formed her bread into loaves and waited for them to rise so that she could slip them into the glowing fire. Somehow despite the raging storm outside she felt at peace.

  Maggie knew it was getting late but she wanted to finish her bread and for some reason she couldn’t quite place she felt awake and alert. She finished her second set of bright curtains by lamp light and was just pulling the warm, brown, crusty bread from the oven when a loud crash outside and then a sudden stomping on the front porch caught her ear.

  Dropping the loaf on the top of the stove she reached for her rifle, and listened for any further sounds. A moment later, a heavy knocking fell on the front door. With the shutters closed she couldn’t see outside and she gulped nervously as another loud peel of thunder rolled through the valley. Lifting a silent prayer heavenward, she walked boldly to the door, slid back the latch, and jerked it open while raising the rifle.

  Standing before her in the pouring rain was a young man, a boy really; his felt hat was nearly plastered to his head from the driving rain, his coat buttoned to his chin was soaked through and his boots looked waterlogged. In his hand he held the long reins of a battered harness bridle that was attached to just about the sorriest piece of horse flesh she had ever laid eyes on.

  “Good Lord!” She exclaimed as the boy yanked off his hat, dumping a copious amount of water onto her front porch. Maggie looked about quickly and saw no one else around.

  “Sorry to disturb you ma'am. “The young man spoke, his voice cracking as he raised it over the storm. “I don’t mean to be no trouble…”

  “Trouble!” Maggie exclaimed as the wind picked up dashing the rain toward the door. “Quick come with me.”

  Grabbing her heavy canvas cloak from a peg by the door she tossed it around herself, reached out and took the boy by the hand, then dragged both him and his soggy horse toward the barn. With the wind howling it took both of them to open the barn door and her mounts both nickered low as she entered. Lighting the small lamp she kept in the barn she pulled the boy and his horse into the warmth and dryness.

  “Thank you ma'am,” the young man stuttered as he shivered in his wet clothes. “I’ll sleep right fine here tonight.”

  “No you won’t.” Maggie almost shouted to be heard over the storm. Her animals moved restlessly with the stranger among them. “You’ll rub down your horse and get it into one of those stall.” She stated pointing, “Not the back one there appears to be a leak there, and then you’ll come straight into the house and get some warm food into you.”

  “No ma’am, I don’t want to be no trouble…”

  “You won’t be any trouble unless you argue. Now get your horse put away, and come straight to the house.”

  With that Maggie hefted her skirts and raced back across the muddy yard and opened the door. This time she went to the fire place and lit the pile of wood and kindling she had laid there. Then she turned back to her kitchen, where the still warm bread rested.

  Placing the bread in the keeper, she rummaged through her cupboards snapping up a can of potted beef, potatoes, onions and carrots then set a pot on the stove and stoked it until it began to boil. A hot stew would be just the thing for that boy. No sooner had she dumped all of the ingredients into the pot than she heard boots clomping across the front porch. Quickly she stepped to the door and pulled back the latch. If anything the young man standing before her looked more bedraggled than he had earlier.

  “I’m real sorry about this ma’am." He stammered dripping on the front step.

  “Just get inside.” Maggie retorted smiling despite herself as the young man struggle to take off his muddy boots. “Don’t worry about your boots, I’ve already tracked the mud in. What’s your name?” she asked as she ushered him into the warm house.

  “Chaz, ma’am. My names Chaz.”

  “Well Chaz, I think the first thing we need to do is get you out of those wet clothes. It might not be very comfortable but we’ll see what we can do.” Maggie walked into her room, then pulled out two warm dry blankets. “Come in here.” she said lifting one blanket and folding it into a triangle. Taking out her heavy sheers she lopped off the top of the triangle leaving a neat hole right in the middle of the blanket.

  “You’ll have to wear that one like a poncho. The other one you wrap around your waist. My husband used to do that with his towel.” She said smiling at the boys astonished face. “When you’re all wrapped up bring me your wet clothes and I’ll a hang them by the fire. Now don’t stand there with your mouth hanging open. Hurry up before I burn the stew.” and with that she backed out of the room snapping the door behind her.

  A few minutes later, the very timid and somewhat frightened looking young man, hair still streaming, hobbled out of the room with the second blanket wrapped tight around him from chest to toes. The poncho style blanket draped over him and hanging below his waist. He looked a little embarrassed but was definitely warmer. Tentatively he handed Maggie his clothes, which she immediately started hanging from the old clothes rack suspended from the ceiling.

  Once done she turned toward him and said “Now let’s get some food into you. “Together they walked to the table, Maggie served up stew for both of them then pulled her fresh bread from the keeper and sliced it right on the table. “I’m afraid I don’t have any butter. “She apologized but by the size of his eyes looking at his plate he didn’t seem to mind; just before he dug in Maggie stopped him.

  “Let’s give thanks.” She said gently then bowed her head in prayer. “Lord, thank you for bringing this young man through the mountains safely, and for allowing me the privilege of helping him when he is in need. Bless this food to our bodies and nourish us so that we may do your work. Amen” for a long moment Chaz just sat there, fork poised over his plate and stared at this strange woman across the table from him.

  Once more Maggie smiled then picked up her first bite. It was long moments, with Chaz shoveling food into his mouth almost as fast as he could chew it before either of them spoke. Maggie watched him eating the simple meal and quickly sliced him another piece of bread when he had nearly finished his first. When he lifted his arms she could see his ribs, and his arms sticking out from the draping blanket seemed to be all bone and elbow. He looked like it had been a long time since he’d had a decent meal. After his second plate of stew and third slice of bread when he seemed to be slowing down Maggie, took the time to introduce herself.

  “I’m Maggie Westen, and this is my place. Your welcome to stay her tonight; and I do not mean in the barn. I’ll fix you up by the fire and you can just keep the embers going through the night. Are you far from home?”

  For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he looked around him, looked at his nearly clean plate and decided it wouldn’t be polite to not answer. “You could say I’m just passin’ through”.

  “Well I’m glad you found my place so you could get out of the storm. You’re welcome as long as you need shelter.”

  “Thank you ma’am. I greatly appreciate it. It was a bad night tonight. My horse was plumb wore out.” Maggie raised an eye brow at that comment but chose to remain silent as Chaz scooped up the last of his stew. “You here on your own ma'am? “He then asked.

  For a brief moment Maggie considered telling him a lie, but a sudden boldness came over here and she answered truthfully. “Yes, actually I am. I'm trying to get the place back up and running. It was my father’s place and I’ve just returned a short time ago. I don’t suppose you know anything about plowing do you?”

  Chaz’s smooth face l
it up like Christmas at the question and he answered enthusiastically. “Seems that's about all I do know ma'am. I think I’ve been doing nothing but plowing since I was big enough to walk behind a horse. “

  “Well perhaps you can help me figure out how to get my kitchen garden in before you continue ‘just passing through.”

  “Yes ma’am that would be a pleasure seeing how you took me in and fed me and such. My horse may not be up to it but I seen your mule so if he can pull we’ll get it taken care of.” With that he finished his meal, gulped down his glass of water and smiled.

  “Well for now it’s late so let’s, see if we can get some sleep in spite of this storm. I’ll get some more blankets.” Again she smiled at the young man. Still wrapped in his blanket clothing then rose and walked back into her room. There she pulled the old bed roll from under the bed and carried it out unrolling it by the fire. She tested the long johns still hanging by the fire but they weren’t dry yet. “I’ll be in my room all night so you should be alright out here. Just let your things dry and keep the fire glowing and you’ll be fine. Good night”.

  “Good night, ma’am”. He replied as Maggie walked back into her room and closed the door. Quickly changing into her long white nightgown she crawled under her blankets pulling them up to her chin and smiled. She never would have expected to see another human being in this valley, and now only two weeks after she arrived another lost soul turned up and he knew how to plow. “God.” She whispered toward the ceiling above. “Somehow I think you might have had this planned all along.” And with that she closed her eyes and was fast asleep.

  The next morning broke bright and clear as if the storm of the night before had never happened. Maggie opened her window that now moved more easily than before, thanks to a liberal application of candle wax, and threw open the shutters. The early morning sun on her face, mingled with the damp cool breeze felt fresh and brought a burst of color to her cheeks.