Mourning Doves

Chapter 1

The night that Daddy died, Mama became the man of the house, leaving me to take care of the little ones. I was 16 years old then—17 now.  Alice and Luke were 6 and 7.  We have no way of knowing how old Joseph is, but I guess that doesn't really matter, does it?

I found Joseph only a few days after we buried Daddy, up in the foothills north of our little ranch. I'd begun going out hunting most evenings. Mama was worried about the coyotes getting bolder near the chicken coop because we’d lost a couple chickens last week and had seen some tracks. I rarely saw anything, because at that point, hunting was more pretext than practice. It felt good to just walk and ponder.  Something about being out there alone, walking, helped me get a hold on things. Helped me order my thoughts. Losing Daddy had me angry (who could have done such a thing?) and scared (what was my life supposed to look like now?).

Mama didn't like letting me go, but I think she knew how much I needed it. She had her own way of coping—working so hard she didn't have any energy left to be sad. She told us that she had to make up for all the work that Daddy wasn't going to be doing anymore. "Life is hard," she said. “Someone's got to do the work."

I had ridden my horse Daisy about a mile out from the ranch before climbing down and continuing my walk on foot, Daisy trailing on her lead behind me.  I climbed up a little rise to a ridge that Daddy had taken me to countless times before he died. I turned to look back over the lowlands I had just crossed. I hadn't truly entered the mountains yet, but from here, I could see a long way. I stood there for a while staring into the distance watching the shrinking line of daylight give way to dusk as the sun set beyond the mountains.  Listening to the breeze.  Listening to the eerie wail of a mourning dove. The tittering of something else... A bluebird, maybe? A robin? Daddy always noticed birds and would sometimes point them out to me. I wish I had paid more attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some movement in a small patch of trees below me. My focus snapped to that area, but I didn't reach for my gun. I wasn't really out here to hunt, after all, and the twilight was beginning to give way to full dark.  It was late summer, and the daylight was slipping away sooner and sooner.

I saw the movement again.  It was something small—perhaps a coyote.  I hadn't seen the thing itself yet, just the movement.  I just stood there, barely breathing, staring at those trees.

And then, a small boy stepped out into the clearing. His sudden appearance made my heart jump.  Another person was about the last thing I expected out here.

"Hello?" I called out, raising my voice.

The boy froze.  He was facing me, and his huge, scared eyes reflected the moonlight. He had no shirt and no shoes.  His pants were baggy and rolled up at the bottom.  His hair was wild and matted.

"Hi!  I'm Maggie!" I said, "I didn't mean to frighten you!"

He didn't move—just stood there, staring.

"Are you lost?"

I took a step toward him, and he turned, bolting away. He only made it a few steps before he tripped on some bit of underbrush and fell with a cry of pain.

I climbed into Daisy's saddle and followed after the boy in an easy trot.  He wasn't all that far away from me, but I wasn't interested in getting into a chase, either.  The poor little guy was lost out here, probably scared, probably starving.  From the looks of him, he might have been out here for weeks.

I pulled Daisy up beside where he sat in the thick grass, and he pulled his knees up and tucked his head away.

"Hey.” I dismounted and knelt beside him. I made my voice soft and easy. "Hello.  Are you lost?"

He did not respond.  Didn't even act like he heard me and stayed hunkered down with his head between his knees.

"I'm Maggie."

Nothing.

"Are you hurt?"

At this, he moved, slightly.  One of the knees of his pants was torn.  It looked like a fresh tear, but the skin underneath it was unscathed. He shook his head. I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't just leave him out here—this time of year, it could get quite cold at night.

"Are you hungry? I live near here."

He sat up at this and let me see his face more clearly. He was very young. He looked about the same age as Alice and Luke—maybe younger.  He had a round little face with big, wide eyes, a little button nose, and his long, wild hair, which was tangled and matted like it hadn't ever been washed.

He was nodding slowly. I wished I had some food with me, a biscuit or something I could offer, but I didn't. I reached out, slowly—gently—and placed my hand on his shoulder. He began to cringe away, but in the end, he let me. As I touched him, I felt a strange tingling heat.  I gasped. My first instinct was to snatch my hand away, but I fought the urge because I didn’t want to frighten him further. But the feeling was fleeting. It faded instantly and I put it out of my mind.

"It's okay," I said.  "We can find you something to eat."

He looked at me expectantly.

"Will you ride on my horse with me?"

He leaned over and eyed Daisy, maybe the most docile horse in the country, and nodded again. So I stood and helped him up. The saddle was just barely big enough for both of us to sit, him behind me.  It wasn't comfortable, but we didn't have far to go.

As we rode, I tried to talk to him.

"My name is Maggie.” I felt silly, aware that I had already told him my name, but I didn't know what else to say. He didn't respond.

"What's your name?" I tried.

Nothing.

"How did you get out here?"

Nothing.

After that, I just kept quiet. It didn't seem surprising to me that someone who had gone through whatever he had gone through, to end up alone at night in the Colorado wilderness, might not want to talk just yet. At the time, I hadn't yet considered that he might not be able to talk.

* * *

When we got close to the ranch, I saw a lantern burning in the barn. Mama must have been working on something. I led Daisy into the yard and hopped off.

"Stay there," I whispered. I didn't need him jumping off the horse and running back into the wilderness.  I led Daisy with me toward the barn.

"Mama!" I shouted.

"Yuh," her voice responded.

"Mama, I..." I paused, feeling the strangeness of what I was about to say, giving her enough time to step out into the yard.

"Who's that?” she said. Mama was a small woman. Only a hair above five feet tall and thin as a rail.  She had strawberry blonde hair that was beginning to go gray at her temples.  She kept it only long enough to tie up into a little knot in the back of her head.  She was wearing a pair of thick canvas bib overalls and a faded blue shirt.

She stood there with no expression on her face, waiting for an answer.

"I found him up on that ridge over there." I pointed to the north. "He won't talk to me, but he says he's hungry."

"If he can't talk, how'd he say that?"

"I mean... I asked him, and he nodded."

Mama cocked her head slightly and narrowed her eyes.

She took a breath. "And you brought him all the way here? What if his kin are out looking for him?"

I hadn't thought of that. "I didn't see anyone else around."

"Did you look?"

I didn't respond.  She didn't give me time to; my face gave me away.

"Didn't think so."  Mama took another deep breath and looked up to the sky.  The corners of her mouth pulled down just a hair. "Alright then.  Alright.  Let's get him fed and cleaned up.  Looks like he can wear something of Luke's for the time being. Take him on in the house, I'll tend to Daisy for you."

Mama stepped forward and took Daisy's lead as I helped the boy down. We headed into the house, where Luke and Alice met us, full of energy and questions.

“Who’s that!”

“Whoa! A boy!”

“Hey, why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

“What’s his name?”

All of those questions, and more, were out before we had fully stepped through the threshold.  I held up a hand to try to stem the tide before it washed us right back out into the yard.

“Mind yourselves, little ones,” I said. “I came across this boy out in the wilderness, and he’s hungry and scared.  Let’s not make it worse by smothering him with questions.”

Alice nodded and stepped back slightly.  Luke nodded as well and at least lowered his voice. “What’s his name, though?”

I turned and looked at the boy who was cowering behind me.  He looked back at me with the slightest hint of a content smile, but said nothing.

“I don’t know.  He seems bashful, and like I said, he’s hungry and probably tired. I don’t know how long he was out there all alone, where he came from, or where his parents went. What I do know, now, is that we’re gonna find him something to eat.”

“Maggie, there isn’t anything left of dinner,” said Alice.

“I know.  Why don’t you go get a cup of buttermilk out of the cellar, Alice.  Luke, run out to the smokehouse and cut me off a large portion of salt pork. Take care with the knife, hear!”

The little ones were pleased to be given some amount of responsibility in caring for our guest and ran off to complete their tasks. I turned to the boy.

“You can sit here at the table if you like,” I said, and he did. “Do you like buttermilk and salt pork?”

He shrugged very slightly but again said nothing. His lack of speech was starting to feel like something more than just bashfulness. I hadn’t put much thought into it yet, but I had assumed he was scared and tired or starving or something. Now, I was beginning to wonder if he couldn’t speak at all. I didn’t know what to do with that, so I put it out of my mind for the time being.

Moments later, Alice burst back into the house with a tin cup full to the brim with cool buttermilk. As she entered, she slowed and composed herself, then walked slowly toward the boy.  She offered the cup gingerly, and he took it with just the barest hint of a smile and a nod, which Alice must have taken for gratitude.

“You are welcome,” she said pleasantly.

Luke was only a few moments behind her with the requested salt pork, which he handed to me, and I set to frying it up in a skillet over the still-hot woodstove.

“Doesn’t he know how to talk?” said Luke.

“Luke, that was rude,” said Alice.

“What? He hasn’t said a word since he came in, even when someone asks him a direct question. I was just wondering. I didn’t mean anything bad about it.”

“Luke!” Alice’s voice was a loud whisper. “It’s rude to talk about people when they’re sitting right there in front of you.”

“You two, quit it,” I said, over the sizzle of the pork. “If he can talk, I’m sure he will once he gets comfortable. If he can’t, well, that’s just fine too.”  I looked over my shoulder at the boy who was sitting there with an empty cup on the table before him and a pleasant look on his face.

“We don’t even know if he has a name!”

“Luke, that’s enough. Please.”

“Ok.”

“Why don’t you go find him something to wear? Don’t you have an old pair of dungarees? One you’ve grown a little too big for? And maybe a shirt?”

Luke smiled, glad again to have a job to do, and left the room.

The salt pork was warmed through and filled the room with a pleasant scent, and a slight blue smoky haze.  I fetched it out of the skillet and onto a plate, which I handed to Alice.  She smiled and primly placed it before the boy, who dug in with his fingers the moment it hit the table.

As we stood watching him eat, Mama walked in.

“Alice,” I said, “Why don’t you step out a minute so Mama and I can talk a little bit.”

She seemed disappointed to be dismissed so, but she nodded her head and stepped out of the room.

“Thank you for putting Daisy up for me.”

Mama inclined her head.  She was looking at the boy. “Where’d you say you found him?”

“I was up on the ridge to the north, looking back this way.  He was out there all alone.  If anyone else was around, I’d have seen them, unless they were sneaking around too, but if they were looking for their boy, why would they be sneaking?”

Mama nodded again, then stepped toward the boy. “Where are ya from, boy?  Who’s your family? Where they at?”

His eyes widened, and he slowed his eating—just a touch.

“Can’t you talk at all, boy?” said Mama.

The corners of his mouth pulled down just a bit.  He shook his head, slowly and a hint of sadness crept into his eyes.

“Can’t talk at all,” said Mama, “That makes this hard.”

The boy finished off the salt pork and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Can you write?” I asked. “If we get you a pen and paper?”

He shook his head again.

“Damn it,” said Mama. “What are we gonna do with him then?” She looked at me. “Don’t give me that look, Margaret Wilton, he ain’t some stray dog we can just keep. Someone is going to be looking for him.”

“I know that, Mama, I didn’t want to… keep him.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to take him to town tomorrow.  Ask around and see who’s missing a kid. If he was wandering around out there, they’ll probably be nagging Bill Bailey already.”

The nearest town to our ranch was Big Bluff, which wasn’t much of a town.  Durango was further on.  Sometimes we did business in Durango, but we always tried finding what we needed in Big Bluff first. Bill Bailey was the town marshal, and Mama hated the man for reasons she was unwilling to share with me.

“If I’m gonna take the boy into town, though, you’re gonna have to do all the chores. Luke and Alice can help. Feed the horses, fill up their troughs. Let the cows out to pasture and don’t forget to close the gate.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Let the chickens out once the sun comes up a bit and collect the eggs.”

“I know, Mama.  We can do it.”

Her face softened.  She got like this sometimes.  She did it even before Daddy died, but it happened more since. It was like she turned to rough, immovable stone, taking charge, giving orders.  But she always caught herself, took a breath, and came back.

“Sorry, Maggie.  I know you can.”  She looked back at the boy. “I know you can’t speak, but are you okay?”

He frowned slightly, then nodded slowly.

“Maggie get you enough food?”

He nodded—but his eyes went back to the tin buttermilk cup.

“We can get you more of that if you want it.”

He smiled.

“Are you hurt? How long were you out there?˝”

He shrugged again and shook his head.

Mama sighed. “Alright then. You can sleep in Luke’s room.  I bet we can convince him to let you have the bed. Tomorrow we’ll go find your parents.”

Mama turned to the doorway and shouted for Luke and Alice. As she did, I saw the boy’s head turn down.  He shook it softly. I decided not to bother Mama with that.

I stepped over near him and smiled. “Do you have a name?” It was a stupid question.  One of those questions you ask when you know the answer, but you need to set yourself up for something else. I was already assuming he wouldn’t tell me his name, but I was thinking maybe we could figure it out. It might be a fun little game.

I was so distracted by this line of thought that I almost didn’t notice when he shook his head no.

“What?”

No name?

I didn’t have enough time to think through all of the implications of that before Luke and Alice came back into the room and were given their assignments. Luke had a bundle of clothes for the boy and was sent to show him his bedroom.  Alice was sent to refill the buttermilk cup.

I was given another rundown of tomorrow’s chores.

“We’ll want to leave early,” said Mama, which to her meant long before the sun would rise. “Get started on the cows the moment we’re off.”

I nodded.

“Can you get the boy to bed?” she said.

“Of course.”

Mama smiled, “I don’t know that I’d be able to keep things running around here without you, Maggie.” She turned and walked out into the yard. Probably to the barn, where she’d find something to work on until she couldn’t stay on her feet. I listened to the coyotes yipping in the distance for a moment before doing as Mama said.

* * *

I was already awake the next morning when Mama knocked gently on my door to tell me it was time to get up. I did so without complaint, and while she was out in the barn saddling up her horse, I snuck into Luke’s room and woke our guest.

He woke easily and followed me out of the bedroom, where I helped him get dressed in the clothes that Luke had found for him the previous evening.

“You sleep good?” I asked him.

He nodded with a faint, kind smile.

“Good,” I said, “Mama is going to take you into town today and try to find your people. Surely they’ve contacted the Marshal. And if they have, he’ll know where to find them to get you back to them.”

When I said this, his face turned down, and my heart skipped a beat.  I told my heart to calm itself right down.  This boy couldn’t be sad to be leaving me.  That would be ridiculous. I was probably just imagining the sad look on his face because I wanted him to love us. Maybe I wanted the attention for saving him. Don’t be silly, Maggie.

I shook my head to clear out those thoughts and focused on something different. I’d not been up long enough to fry some biscuits for breakfast, and I knew Mama was going to want to leave before I had time to do it. But there was time for coffee, so I stoked the embers that were still smoldering in the woodstove and handed the kettle to the boy.

“There’s a basin with water just outside over there,” I pointed in the correct direction. “Would you fill this kettle for me, while I find you something to eat before you go?”

He took the kettle and did as I asked, while I went out to the smokehouse and got some more of the salt pork he’d eaten last night. I also ducked into the cellar and got another cup of the buttermilk he seemed to enjoy so much.

The boy met me back at the house with a kettle full of water. We put it on to boil, and I warmed the pork while he happily drank the buttermilk.

Mama came in right as the coffee reached a boil, and I took it off the stove.  I sat it on a trivet on the table to give the grounds a moment to settle before pouring her a cup.

“Thankya, Maggie,” she said.

She drank the coffee quickly with no sugar and ate a bit of the pork.

And then she ushered the boy out of the house and helped him up onto Buck, her horse.

I felt a strange pulling in my chest. I wanted to give the kid a hug, tell him everything was gonna be alright.  We’d find his people, and he could go back to whatever happy little life he’d been living before he got lost. I’d miss him. Grow up, Margaret. You barely know this kid, and he’s never even spoken a word to you.

In the end, I just waved and said, “Safe travels, Mama. See you this evening.”

And that was that. I didn’t even let myself watch them disappear over the horizon, I turned and set to doing the chores.

It didn’t feel like long at all before the sun was peeking up into the eastern sky, bringing Luke and Alice out to the yard.

“Are they gone already?” asked Alice.  It was the first thing out of her mouth as she emerged from the house.

“Yes.  Mama wanted to leave before the sun rose.”

Alice nodded.  She looked disappointed, but of course, she had expected the answer.

“I was kinda hoping he might stay for a few days,” said Luke. “I’ve always wanted a brother.”

I smiled at him. “What? Us girls aren’t good enough for big man Luke?”

His eyes brightened at this. “That’s right. There’s too many girls around here. Daddy always said it wasn’t fair I had to be outnumbered.”

Daddy had said that, but we always knew he was joking. Mentioning Daddy, even to bring up our old joke, threatened to darken the mood, so I leaned in to brighten it again.

“Well, I know one thing,” I said, “A real man wouldn’t let a bunch of girls beat him to the morning chores, even if he was outnumbered.”

“That’s right!” he shouted. “Time to get busy!” He took off running toward the barn. “I’ll get the feed!”

Alice giggled.

I put an arm around her shoulder. “We have a lot to do today, and I don’t really think he’s going to be able to do it all without us, do you?”

“Nope”

“Well, let’s get to it then.”

Together we did everything Mama had asked us to, tending to the horses, checking the fences that contained the cattle, letting the chickens out of their coop to roam the yard picking and pecking for whatever bugs they might find to eat.

Ranch work is exhausting work, but I was well used to it, and indeed, it felt good to have something to keep me busy throughout the day, to keep my mind occupied.

I had almost been successful in keeping my mind off of the boy throughout the day. Only a couple times I found my mind wandering back to the way he had answered some of the questions we asked, and the curious look he got on his face when we talked about his parents.  The fact that he didn’t have a name. But none of that mattered becasue Mama would take care of it.  Best not to think of such things.

Late that afternoon, when Luke first noticed Mama riding back home, I was shocked to see that she still had a little rider with her.

“Is that him? Is she bringing the boy back?” asked Alice.

“It seems like it,” I said.

“Why? What happened? Couldn’t she find his parents?”

“I don’t know, Alice. How could I know that? We’re just going to have to wait until she gets home so we can ask her.”

We could see a far piece in the direction of Big Bluff, so we had to wait longer than any of us would have liked for Mama to finally reach the yard, and when she did, she wasn’t yet in the mood for talking.

Alice and Luke, of course, assaulted her with every imaginable question.

“Not yet, children. Let’s get settled first. I’m sure the boy is exhausted after a day of riding.  Let us catch our breath. I’ll tell you the story at dinner.”

I told Alice and Luke to take the boy and help him get washed up while Mama took Buck into the barn to unsaddle him and brush him down.  I went into the house and began cooking dinner.  Since I’d been doing chores all day, I hadn’t spent the time to prepare something too robust, but we had some potatoes I could fry up, and the ever-present salt pork.

As we ate, Mama told us what had happened in Big Bluff.

“Bill Bailey was just as helpful as you might expect,” she said. “Which is to say, not helpful at all. He said he hadn’t heard of nobody looking for a lost kid.  Certainly, he never offered to look after the chap, or find him a place to stay until his kin came around, and when I floated the idea he laughed aloud.” Mama took a bite of her dinner. “You can go talk to Moses, he said, if you want to rent a room for the boy, but don’t be expecting me to be looking after him, I got plenty more important work to be doing.” Mama affected an exaggerated miner’s drawl as she quoted Marshal Bailey, making him sound as stupid and worthless as she thought he was. Luke and Alice giggled at this, but there wasn’t much joy in Mama’s face, as funny as the voice was.

“So, I left his smelly little office and stood in the street thinking about who else I might trust to help our little friend here, and came up empty. Moses probably would have let me rent a room for him, but he’d be just as likely to put him to work in the kitchen, or worse—” Mama made a face here.  I had some idea what she was thinking of, and it wasn’t something she would explain here at the dinner table.

“Anyway,” she said, “I thought for a moment about heading on to Durango, but of course y’all wouldn’t have known where I’d gone, we’d have had to camp and I wasn’t really prepared to do that. So, I went back into Bill’s office and told him I was going to keep him, and if anyone came around asking, he knew where to find me.  Before I left, I stopped by and told Moses the same, figuring if Bill forgot about us the moment I left town, at least I could rely on Moses to get the gossip train rolling.” Mama grimaced. “Probably the whole town and half of Durango knows we’re taking care of a stray child at this point.”

Mama took another bite of her food, then smiled. It might have been the warmest smile I’d seen on her since Daddy died. “Besides,” she said, “Y’all seemed to get along with him just fine.  I thought you might be happy to have a couple more days with him.”

And of course, she was right.

Luke was the first to bring up the boy’s name again. “So what can we call you? If you can’t tell us your name, what should we do?”

The boy smiled, but shrugged and shook his head at the same time.

“He told me he doesn’t have a name,” I said.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Maggie,” said Mama.

“I know it doesn’t,” I looked at him, “But it’s true, isn’t it?  Do you have a name?”

Again, he smiled and shook his head.

Mama said something under her breath that I did not understand.

“Well, that means we get to pick one out for you, then, right?” said Luke.

“Luke,” said Alice, “He should probably get to pick his own name.”

“But he can’t talk!”

We all looked at him. He wore a pleasant look on his face, but he gave us no input on the matter of a name.

“Well, we have to call him something,” said Luke, “I don’t just want to keep calling him ‘boy’ or ‘our little friend’.” Luke leaned in. “Can I pick a name for you?”

“Luke,” said Alice.

Luke did not stop. “I’ll let you say yes or no, if you like it or not.  Does that sound fine?”

The boy nodded, seeming eager.

“Good!” Luke narrowed his eyes and tipped his head back. “All of a sudden, I can’t think of any good names.”

“What about Joseph,” I said, “Like in the Bible.”

“Aww, Maggie, that’s a good one,” said Luke, “Why didn’t you give me time to think of that one?”

"That one might be better if he had a colorful coat!" said Alice.

"Maybe we can find one!" said Luke.

We laughed and looked toward the boy.

Mama cleared her throat. “Well, then, how do you feel about Joseph?”

He put his hands on the table and nodded deeply. Joseph’s smile beamed, brightening the room.

“Joseph!” cried Alice, laughing.  She stood, pulled the boy out of his chair, and hugged him deeply.

Chapter 2

Two days after Joseph arrived, I surfaced from sleep not to the usual soft sounds of the ranch waking up—the gentle shifting of horses in the barn, the rooster's first tentative crow—but to an eerie stillness. A floorboard creaked outside the bedroom door, followed by Mama's soft knock. “Maggie?” Her voice was tight with something awful.

“Maggie, wake up. Something's happened.”  As my eyes fluttered open, she held a finger to her lips. “Shhh, don’t wake Alice.”

I nodded and then rubbed my eyes. Something was wrong, it was clear on her face.  I could feel it in the tone of her voice, and I felt a knot begin to tie itself up deep in my stomach. I rolled out of bed, pulled on an overshirt, and followed her from the room and out into the yard.

Once we were out there, she turned and gave me that look again.  I said nothing.

She took a breath. “It’s Daisy.”

My eyes shot up to the barn, its door open slightly, the faint light of a lantern spilling out into the yard. What could have happened to her in there? I had put her comfortably in her stall the night before.

I looked back at Mama, still silent, but I was asking the question with my eyes.  The knot in my stomach pulled tighter.

“She broke a leg. Something got into the barn last night.  A coyote probably—I don’t think a raccoon would have spooked her like that—all the horses look like they’ve been stirring in their stalls.” Mama cleared her throat. “Anyway.  Something spooked her, and in her excitement, she broke a leg. She probably bucked and kicked the gate.”

“Is it…” I had to catch my breath.  I swallowed. “Is it a bad one?”

Mama nodded.

I began to cry. I wasn’t a crier, or I never had been before. I tried to take another deep breath, to still my beating heart, to loosen the knot in my belly, but it didn’t work well.

“Come,” said Mama, “She’s in here.”

I followed Mama to the barn.  We had six stalls in there.  They weren’t all full even in the best of times, but the barn felt empty.  We’d lost Whiskey—Daddy’s horse—when he didn’t come home, and that stall, the first one on the left, had been a stark reminder of our loss every time I walked in.  Whiskey was a big bay gelding with a ragged white blaze.  He was ugly, and I had loved him.

Daisy was in the next stall, though I couldn’t see her yet.  Mama went over and pulled on the gate, which swung slowly, revealing my girl lying in the hay.  As the gate swung open, she tried to stand.

“Nooooo, easy girl.” Mama used her smooth, calming voice.  She put a hand on the side of Daisy’s head and guided her back down.

I approached and instantly saw the break. It was a bad one. I felt like I was going to vomit. My stomach churned and my chest burned, but I pressed on.  Daisy didn’t need to see me losing my head.

It was just below the knee on her left front leg. Even in the dim lantern light I could see it clearly.  Her leg bent unnaturally, and her pale gray hide was stained with dark clotting blood.

“I’m sorry, Margaret.”

“She’ll be fine, right?” I asked it already knowing the answer, and felt like a child as the words fell from my lips.

“Maggie”

I shook my head. My mind was racing. We could set the leg.  Bind it. I’d take care of her, make sure she—

“I don’t want to rush you…” Mama’s voice trailed off slightly. She cleared her throat and continued. “I’m sorry, Maggie, but you know what we need to do, and I don’t want to do it with all the other horses in here, so you have to help me get them out.”

I stood and swallowed the bile that was threatening the back of my throat.  Mama was right, of course, and I was no child. I took a deep breath and tried to control my shaking body. This was a fact of life, and there was nothing to be done about it.

I couldn’t speak, so I nodded.

I walked out of Daisy’s stall and helped Mama move the other horses out into the corral in the yard.  It didn’t take long.

When we were finished, we went back to the barn.  Mama had already retrieved Daddy’s old shotgun, probably before she woke me.  It was leaning in the corner, and she picked it up.  We both stood before Daisy’s stall.

“I understand if you can’t,” said Mama, “But if it were me, I’d want to do it myself.”

I knew that was coming, and I thought I had made up my mind already, but now that it was time, now that the decision was before me, I couldn’t move.

“You don’t even have to be in here at all if you want, Maggie. But we can’t wait too much longer.  She’s hurting.”

“I’ll do it.” My voice came out as a cracked whisper, but Mama understood. She handed me the gun and stepped up to swing the gate open.

Daisy looked at me.

I can’t accurately describe what I was feeling.  My knees were weak, my head was pounding like someone had the thing in an ever-tightening vise.  All over, I felt buzzy and sick.  But I was not weak, and I knew what I was doing.

I stepped in and knelt beside my girl and put a hand on the side of her face. “I’m sorry, girl.  I know it hurts, but it won’t hurt much longer.”

“Joseph!” Mama’s sharp voice startled me, and I stood, turning.

Joseph had come into the barn and was standing just outside the stall.

“What are you doing here?” Mama said, but he ignored her.  He walked right past her and approached Daisy, kneeling down by her broken leg.  He turned to us, looked at the shotgun in my hands, and shook his head no.

“Joseph,” I said, “there’s nothing we can do.  She’s hurting, and we have to help her not hurt anymore.”

I stepped toward him and tried to pull him back, but he shook me off. I felt my face begin to heat up with anger and frustration. Didn’t he know how hard this was for me? Why did he have to make it harder? Gathering the resolve to do what I needed to do was hard enough already, and now this.

“Joseph!” I heard my voice come out harder and stronger than I intended, but in that moment, I didn’t care. “I’m sorry, but we can’t do this right now.” I turned and shoved the gun into Mama’s hands, intending to drag Joseph out of there.

“Maggie…” she said, a warning in her voice. “He doesn’t understand.”

Of course, he didn’t understand. But he was about to learn, wasn’t he?

I turned and grabbed him by the shoulders, but when I did, I felt a strange buzzing jolt.  For just the barest moment, my vision went fuzzy, like someone had shone a bright light in my eyes.

I staggered back, rubbing my eyes, and heard Mama. “Oh, my God,” she said.

I dropped my hands and saw what had made her exclaim.

Joseph had his hands on Daisy’s broken leg, and he was trying to straighten it out—but that wasn’t all. Small blue lines, like lightning, coursed over her whole body, emanating from his hands.  A strange smell filled the air, burning slightly in my nose, and I heard a soft, humming, crackling sound.

Daisy didn’t appear to be in any pain or discomfort.  She didn’t appear to be aware at all of what was happening to her, she was just staring blankly at the wall of the stall.

Joseph made no sound and was focused on whatever he was doing. I was terrified, but I dare not interrupt. I dare not touch him again. I stood, frozen, watching.

He slowly straightened out the broken leg.  The bone that had torn through the skin disappeared with a faint popping sound.

And then, the skin began to knit itself together.  Before my very eyes, I saw it pulling together, like a shirt being buttoned up.

“Mama,” I whispered.

“I see it,” she said.

In all, it could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but in the moment, it seemed to stretch on for hours. Every little detail has been printed in my mind—the way her flesh pulled itself together, leaving a thin little scar.

When it was done, Joseph sat back, leaning against the wall of her stall as the last of the lightning that covered Daisy’s body faded and disappeared. And then, Daisy came back from wherever she had been.  She turned and looked at Mama and me, and then she stood, without issue, and without pain.

She flicked her head and then nickered softly at us as if asking us what we were all doing crowded in her stall, and hey, where’s breakfast? Why are you holding that gun?

“Joseph,” I said, “What did you—” I cut off with a gasp when I saw that he had fallen over and was lying flat on the floor of the barn.

Mama was at his side before I could get there. “I think he’s just sleeping,” she said.

And it appeared to be true.  She picked him up and I could hear his soft breathing. Whatever he had just done must have worn him out somehow.

“I’ll take him back in the house,” said Mama.  She hesitated, a curious look on her face. “You, check on Daisy, I guess.” She frowned, but turned and walked out of the barn carrying Joseph in her arms.

Daisy seemed perfectly fine.  The lower half of her leg was still stained with blood, and there was a fresh-looking scar where the bone had torn her flesh, but she didn’t mind at all when I gently prodded the wound.  She stood just fine, putting all of her weight on it.  I didn’t know what other checking there was to do.  I considered putting her out in the corral with the other horses, but decided it might be a little too early for that, so I got her some fresh hay and a handful of oats and left her there.

As I closed the gate to her stall, I saw Daddy’s shotgun leaning against the wall.  I picked it up and looked back at Daisy one last time.

“That was close,” I said to her, “I almost…”  I couldn’t say it.

She wouldn’t have understood anyway.

I took the gun and went into the house to see what had become of Joseph.

* * *

In the house, Luke and Alice were sitting at the table in the kitchen with confused, sleepy faces. They said nothing to me as I came in, but they were clearly worried.

Mama had put Joseph in Luke’s bed and he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He lay perfectly still, the quilt that covered him rising and falling slowly with his even breathing.

Mama stood by the bed looking over him.

“How’s Daisy?” she asked.

“Fine, I think.  I think… she seemed just fine, Mama.”

Mama looked at me, frowning.  She shook her head slowly but said nothing.

“What do we…” I said, “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Mama.

We stood there in silence watching him sleep.

After several moments, Mama broke the silence. “Well, whatever he did out there, whatever that was, must have tired him right out. I guess the only thing to do is let him sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go tell the little ones what happened. They must be worried, seeing me carry him in like that.”

I followed her into the kitchen where we all sat around the table.

“Is Joseph going to be okay?” asked Alice.

“I think so,” said Mama.

“What happened? Is he hurt?”

“I don’t think he’s hurt, but I’m not sure what happened,” said Mama.  She sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. “Daisy was hurt.  Maggie and I were out trying to—” Mama glanced my way, “—take care of her.  Joseph came out too, and he… well… He healed her, and then he fell asleep.”

“He healed her?” asked Luke, “like Jesus?”

Mama started to shake her head but stopped and considered. “I guess so,” she said.

The little ones’ eyes widened.

“So,” said Mama, “I don’t think there’s anything we can do right now, if he’s just sleeping, maybe what he did really tired him out.”

They nodded.

“I think it would be best if y’all stay out of the house today, so as to not bother his rest.”

They nodded again.

Mama turned to me. “Maggie, you stay here and keep a close eye on him.”

“What should I do if he…”

“I don’t know.  If you need something, come and find me and we’ll figure it out.”

So that’s what we did.  By that point, the sun was well above the horizon bathing the yard in warm morning light. The little ones went out with Mama to do their part of the chores, and then play outside. I cooked breakfast, took it to them outside, and did just as Mama said.

All in all it made for a boring day, especially after the excitement of the morning, but that’s the way of things, isn’t it? Even the most intense life-changing events are often brief flashes of excitement encased in hours of waiting.

* * *

Joseph was still asleep at lunchtime.  I took some food out for Mama and the little ones, and we ate it outside. It was a beautiful day.  The heat of the summer had finally broken and ushered in the absolute beauty of the early fall. It was still warm during the day, but it came with a cool, refreshing breeze.

We mostly avoided talking about Joseph and that morning’s miracle. I was itching to say something about it, but I had no idea what.  What else was there to talk about beyond the simple fact that it had happened? Mama did say that Daisy was still doing just fine, and as we ate I could see her in the corral with the other horses behaving as if nothing at all had happened.

Later that afternoon, I was sitting in the kitchen when Luke ran in.

“Someone’s coming,” he said, “from the east.”

East likely meant they were coming from Big Bluff, and the thought of it hit me harder than I would have expected. I realized that I had already been thinking of Joseph as a part of our family, and the thought of him leaving to reunite with his parents, or his people, or whoever it was that was just coming over the horizon, was unexpectedly sad.

And of course, I immediately felt guilty for feeling that way, and tried to shake that thought right out of my head.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Mama says there’s three or four of them, but it’s hard to tell, they’re too far away. Do you think they’re coming to take Joseph?”

“I don’t know,” I said, “It could be anyone, coming for anything.”

“Sure, but what else is there to come for? We never get visitors.  The last time a visitor showed up…” He trailed off and looked at the floor.

The last time a visitor had come to our little ranch had been the day after Daddy had been shot in Durango.

“We’ll just have to see,” I said.

In my heart, though, I knew.

“Mama said if Joseph didn’t wake up on his own before too long, maybe we should try waking him ourselves.” He turned his head toward the door. “If that’s his family…” Luke looked back at me. “Do you think they know? That he can…”

“I don’t know, Luke.  Why don’t you go find Alice and come back in here so you’re not in the way of our guests.”

“Mama already told us that.  Alice was finishing up something outside, she’ll be right along. She said we should go to your room and wait.”

“Alright.  Thank you, Luke, run along then.”

Luke nodded and left, heading toward my room like Mama said. Moments later, Alice came in. She had a worried look on her face.

“Mama sounded upset.  She said to tell you to hide the gun. Under your bed, she said.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that. I guessed something about the approaching riders had her concerned, but I couldn’t imagine what it would be.  It wasn’t unusual for her to tell the little ones to come inside—just in case—but she rarely got upset about it.  And being specifically told to hide the gun was very out of the ordinary.

I did as she said. I took Alice into the bedroom with Luke and Joseph and knelt beside the bed, tucking Daddy’s shotgun far underneath. As I stood, I heard the sharp crunch of a few horses pulling up fast in the yard. Three, maybe four sets of hooves scattering dust and gravel.  I stepped out of the bedroom and pulled the door closed behind me.

Mama’s voice lifted from outside, tight and sharp with challenge, not a welcoming sound at all. My heart gave that same hard thump against my ribs. Visitors were rare enough, but unexpected ones arriving like that, making Mama sound that way…

I crept toward the door. A man’s voice answered Mama now, low and smooth.

I leaned closer to listen to what they were saying.

Mama’s voice was the first I heard. “No, we don’t have a lost boy here, just my own son.”

“Your own son?” It was a man’s voice, “How old is he, would you say?”

“Six.”

“Might we see him, ma’am? I’m real anxious to get my own boy back, you see, and I…”

“You accusing me of stealing your boy? Is that what this is?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I would never.”

I heard another man cough.  Or was that some kind of ugly choking laugh?  I didn’t like what I heard in this man’s voice.  His words were kind and polite enough, but there was some bleak, rotten something lurking just behind them.  I imagined a dirty smile and crooked teeth.

Mama spoke up again. “Good,” she said. “Never did take well to being accused of something I didn’t do.”

“All the same…” The man’s voice again. “I do think it would make me feel much better if I could just take a gander through the house.”

“No.”

The man’s voice lowered, as if he had turned away. “No, she says!” Someone else did laugh now. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’ve tried to be po-lite here, but I’m not accustomed to not getting my way, you see... And you not letting me just take a quick peek in your little house over there has me mighty suspicious.”

I heard the sound of someone dismounting a horse. “Randall, hold my reins.  Josiah, make sure our kind host here doesn’t move a god-damned muscle.”  His voice turned at this last phrase, and I knew what he meant even before I heard the cocking of Josiah’s revolver.

My heart was threatening to burst from my chest, beating as it was, but I stayed by the door listening in horror to what was happening. I should have moved. Had I been but a tiny bit wiser, things might have turned out better in the end. But I didn’t move. I heard the man walking toward the door, and I just stood there.

The door opened, and there he stood.  He was a short man and very thin.  His face was dark and dirty and hadn’t been shaved for several days.  I wouldn’t call what he had a beard, though, it was more of a scraggly tangle of unkempt whiskers above his lip, and in patches on his cheeks.  He wore a big hat which was cocked rakishly to the side.

“Well! Hello there,” he said. His eyes scanned up and down my body, and he grinned.  His smile was indeed just as I had imagined it. Greasy. Revolting. He turned his head to look over his shoulder.

“Randall!” he said, his voice dripping with overblown cheer. “This one looks to be just your age!”

I followed his gaze to look at the men who had come with him, but I didn’t see them. No, my eyes caught on just one thing.

The horse.

One of them was holding the reins of a horse, and I knew that horse. I would never forget that ragged white blaze.

That was Daddy’s horse.

I gasped, feeling like I had been punched. “Whiskey!” I said.

Whiskey looked at me and gave a small snort.

The man snapped his attention back to me, his eyes sharp and discerning. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You know that horse, do ya?”

And then he broke into a different kind of smile. A greedy, dark thing.  He reached and put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out into the yard. Mama’s face was twisted in horror, and mine must have been too as I realized what I had done.

“You’re Zeke’s girl, aren’t you?” he said.  Then he turned to the other men. “Boys, this is a fortuitous day! Oh ho! Indeed!”