Author’s note: This
story is about Mag7 characters. Josiah and Mary are the lovers.
If you believe that Mary is only meant for Chris don’t read it, you won’t
like it anyway. But if Josiah is a favorite, you may understand that
no one in the whole town is a suitable mate for him except Mary.
At least that’s the way I see it.
Chapter 1
Chris ducked his head to see Josiah’s face, which was shadowed by the broad brim of his hat. "This’s all right with you? I’d sooner have you with us, but you’re the best one to do this; you’re...steady. I don’t think you’ll be followed, he won’t know you’re gone for at least twelve hours. But if someone shows up there, I know she’s as safe with you as she’d be with anyone."
Josiah smiled a little. "It’s all
right; I understand your reasons. I’m steady, yeah." But he
thought to himself, his smile broadening, Old, you mean. You think
because I’m old, I’ll leave her alone! Well, you’re right, I will. 
He
mounted his horse and reined around to face the road leading west out of
town. "Vaya con Dios, Chris. Find him quick!"
As he turned he looked back to assure himself that Mary followed, and to
check that the pack horse was securely tethered to the back of his saddle.
The little group moved out, heading for the mountains, the early
morning sun stretching their shadows far down the trail ahead of them.
As Josiah rode he thought about the days ahead. He hoped for Mary’s sake that their stay wouldn’t be long. Most women were not well suited to camp life. They wore too many clothes, for one thing. And they were afraid, afraid of...he paused, thinking...of the wildness. That was it; it was being so close to the primeval nature of life. It scared most women to death.
Living rough was a pleasure for him, although not as much as it had been when he was younger. Old bones! he thought, the corners of his mouth turning up again. Still, the basic nature of life in camp appealed mightily to his introspective mind. The days were filled with simple tasks that were necessary to maintain life and comfort: gathering wood for fire, hunting for the pot, cooking, making the campsite more comfortable. The routine of camp life was almost monastic. That is, it usually was. Mary’s presence served to disturb that image considerably. Well, she was a good woman, sensible and brave; maybe it would work out well, but he hoped their stay wouldn’t be long. A week, he thought, wouldn’t try either of them too far. They knew each other hardly at all, but hopefully they would find some common ground for friendship. Josiah wasn’t very worried. He knew he was easy to get along with, and he suspected she might be also.
*******
The trip was broken by short halts
only three times. Josiah called the first one an hour after they
entered the foothills. "I gotta circle back to make sure we’re not followed.
I’ll have to leave you alone here for...maybe half an hour. Can you
stay alone that long?"
Mary shifted in her saddle. "Sure. I’ll be all right, it’ll give me a chance to eat something, and.to get off this horse for a little while. That’ll be a blessing!" She grinned at him, and dismounted. "He and I’ll wait right here for you."
"Stay on this side of the bluff; don’t give anyone a chance to spot you from below." A pause. "Do you understand what I meant by that?"
She stared up at him, her face expressionless. "I have a pretty good understanding. I think I’ve got your meaning." There was definite tartness in her reply.
His eyes dropped from hers. "Didn’t mean any offense. Gotta make sure we understand each other is all."
She had regretted her little show of irritation even before he apologized. "I’m sorry, Josiah. I guess the heat’s got to me. I know you’re going way out of your way to do this whole thing, and my bad temper sure doesn’t help."
"No trouble. None at all." He turned to his horse, mounted and rode back for a short way, then cut off the trail between two enormous boulders and disappeared.
Twice more during the day she rested while he reconnoitered. After the third trip he reported that there was no one following them. "No sign at all. I think it’s about certain we’re not gonna have any unwelcome company. Come on, it’s not a whole lot farther."
"Just where are we going, Josiah?"
"It’s a place I’ve been to before. It’s a cave...well not much of one, but it’s shelter, and it’s pretty comfortable; better than sleeping in the open." And easier to defend you, if I have to, he finished silently.
********
They arrived at their destination
an hour before sundown. "Good. Plenty of time to get settled
in," Josiah observed with a glance at the westering sun.
He insisted that she sit down while he made camp. "You sit right there! I’ll do this; I know how, and it’s just…easier for me." He busied himself, and in an hour they were seated in the cave entrance, supper finished, drinking the last of the coffee.
Mary was bone tired. She sat staring into the fire, too tired to move to the bedroll that Josiah had laid out for her. They had ridden for ten hours, and I didn’t complain once! she thought to herself, rather proud of her silence about the discomforts of the day. That ought to show him that I won’t be a burden.
Josiah looked up from his coffee cup and spoke as if he’d read her mind. "You did real good today, Mary. It was a long ride, even for a man that’s used to riding. I think we’re gonna get along all right." He smiled at her---his infrequent, charming smile---and again he picked up her unspoken thought. "Come on, get up---the bed won’t come to you." He stood and held out his hands to her. She took them and started to rise, but stopped suddenly, with what could only be called a squeak. "Oh my goodness!" She rose the rest of the way slowly and carefully, with a grimace of pain.
"A little stiff, huh?" Josiah stifled a chuckle. "Come on, get some sleep, it’ll be better in the morning. ...Maybe."
She looked up quickly. "Maybe?"
He laughed aloud; the anxiety in her face was comical. "Just foolin’ with you. Sorry!"
"Golly, thanks a lot! You scared me!" She laughed with him, appreciating the friendliness implicit in his teasing. "I don’t understand it. I ride all the time, and nothing like this happens."
"You ride once or twice a week, for a mile or two. This was a long, hard jornada; it’s not the same. But it will be better in the morning---not gone, but better."
She hobbled away from the fire with Josiah’s hand under her elbow, to the back of the shallow cave, where their blankets were spread. As she started to bend, Josiah stopped her. "This could hurt. Wanta let me help?" Without waiting for an answer, he picked her up in his arms, sank to his knees and lowered her to the bedroll.
Mary was astonished. "Josiah, I’m no lightweight, that was quite a feat. But thank you, I’m sure glad you’re so strong, I wasn’t looking forward to getting down. Getting up was bad enough!"
Josiah answered a little gruffly. "No trouble." He was quiet for a moment, still kneeling beside her. Then he said "...Mary? In the morning we should talk about some things. I know you’ll want some privacy, and I’ll fix up whatever you need, but just for tonight...we’re both tired, can we just sleep in our clothes, where we fall down, and worry about it in the morning?"
She answered immediately. "Of course we can! I’m not fragile, Josiah, and not overly modest, I hope. I know I’m more trouble than a man would be, but I guess...you’ll just have to put up with that."
She grinned up at him, but his face remained serious as he looked down at her for a minute more. "No. You’re no trouble. Goodnight, Mary." He turned to his own bedroll, and in a few minutes they both slept.
*******
Mary’s stiffness was much improved
in the morning; she got out of her blankets without Josiah’s help.
When he returned from his short trip to the bushes for morning necessities,
he smelled frying bacon. She looked up as he entered.
"Good morning! Eggs? How many? We might as well eat up
the eggs, they won’t last very long in the heat." Her face was flushed
from leaning over the fire, and he was struck suddenly with how beautiful
she was. Her long blonde hair was pulled back, and the clean lines
of her mouth and jaw drew his admiring attention. He looked away
quickly. That kind of thinking did no good; she was not for him,
nor was any woman of her virtue and quality.
Breakfast was good. He leaned back against the cave wall, coffee cup in hand. "You’re a cook, Mary!"
"Do you think so? Then cooking can be one of my chores. What else is there that I can do? I mean that I’m able to do; I’m afraid I haven’t many useable skills in this situation. Unless you need some poetry written?"
He smiled, amused. "That would be worth while. The Lord loves a willing worker, in whatever pursuit. And poetry beats gunfighting, hands down. ‘The pen is mightier than the sword.’ At least that’s what they tell me."
She laughed. "That’s right, but poetry is not what’s needed here. Wanted maybe, but not needed."
Her eyes met his, and he dropped his quickly, lest she see more warmth in them than was seemly. Her gaze was level and honest, her smile was open, she was quick and responsive in conversation, and she was disturbingly beautiful. As he stared down at the tin cup in his hand, it crossed his mind to wonder if he was going to be hurting when this trip was over.
"Now, about the blankets...." A sudden thought struck him. "Maybe you’re thinking I should sleep outside, and I’d do that if things were different. But the reason we’re here is for me to protect you, and I can’t do that unless I’m with you...all the time." He looked up at her. "Sorry, that’s the way it is. But I can put up blankets."
"That’ll be fine, Let’s put them here---" She pointed to the middle of the back wall. "Like stalls in a barn. Then we can both get some air at night."
Josiah looked rueful. "Uh-uh, can’t do that either. If I put the blankets there someone could waltz right by me while I slept and...scare you. I gotta be in front, crossways." He gestured with his hand.
"Oh! Of course. Well, then...hmm, I don’t want to be shut in back there, but I understand the problem." She hesitated, then looked up at him, and as he watched she blushed brightly. She looked down again, away from his eyes, before she spoke. "If you’ll just stare into the fire for a few minutes morning and night, I don’t think we need the blankets." Her face was still burning, but she looked up at him then, determined to be frank. "This is...an awkward situation, Josiah, but if we’re sensible about it, it should work out."
Josiah also was a little embarrassed by her frankness. "That’s fine. We’ll do it however you want." He began briskly to fold a blanket, turning away from her.
*******
The day passed quickly while they
got settled. In the early afternoon Josiah called to her where she was
piling firewood. "Leave that, can you? We need to go for water.
I guess you know you’ll have to come with; can’t leave you alone.
Besides, I need your help to carry the water. The horses’ll keep
us hoppin’ for water all the time we’re here, if it stays this hot."
He bent to pick up the water buckets, then turned back to await her. "Come on, it’s up that way. That is, if you’ve got nothing else planned." His eyes laughed at her, although his face was straight.
She came at once, chuckling, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. "It happens I’m free at the moment." He chuckled in return, handed her the smallest of the three buckets, and they started up the slope.
They had climbed for two or three minutes in silence when he looked up from the trail to find her smiling again. "Don’t you ever get cranky, woman? You just smile all the time." When he had spoken he looked away from her, embarrassed at his impulsive words.
"Sure I get cranky...but who could be cranky here!" She looked around her, throwing out her arms, and turned herself in a circle. The view down the canyon was spectacular, the sun was bright, and there was an eagle high up in the cloudless sky making lazy arcs against the blue. "Josiah, I just love this!" She threw out her arms again. "Look around us; this mountain is heavenly. This is a wonderful place; thanks for bringing me here."
"You can thank me if that poor lunatic comes up here after you and I save your life. The rest of this," he gestured widely at the sky and the mountain, "is of the Lord’s providing, not mine. It is something to see, though, isn’t it?" He took a deep breath, his chest expanding largely, and turned in a slow circle of his own, just looking for a long minute, then he returned to business. "Come on. We need water, and so do the horses."
They climbed at a leisurely pace up the rock-strewn mountainside. The terrain was rough, but the grade was gentle. Mary had no difficulty despite her stiffness, and Josiah was close behind her, watchful and protective.
The vegetation was sparse; water was rare and precious here. That fact made it the more astonishing when Josiah stopped, took her hand, and led her around a huge tumble of rock, into a world apart. Mary stood staring around her, unbelieving of what she was seeing. She had stepped into a miniature box canyon that held within its twenty-foot walls a little bit of paradise.
A small spring’s flow arched out of the rock wall to fall in feathery trailing veils into the pool at the wall’s foot. The lower half of the rock wall and the pool’s edge were covered in lush green vegetation, ferns and soft-stemmed plants not seen for hundreds of miles around this place. Moss covered the rock floor in the shadow of the wall to the south, and fingers of moss trailed wherever there was a patch of shadow from the desert sun. The pool was in the sun at the moment, but soon the shadows would creep over it, and the sun-warmed water would cool again to the icy temperature of the cascading fall.
Mary was speechless, wonderment on her face.
"Better get your bath now, while the water’s warm." Josiah pulled a clean piece of flannel from under his vest, and something else from a pocket. "Here, you can dry with this. Here’s soap. I’ll be right outside." He dipped his two big buckets into the water, and when they had filled he was gone.
Mary stood bemused for a few seconds, but as she saw that the sun was creeping inexorably past the pool’s surface, she began to pull off her clothes. The water was deliciously tepid in the heated air, and the spray from the fall was icy cold. The pool made an almost perfect bathtub, although the bottom was perhaps a little rough for sitting. It was the best bath she’d had since she’d left St Louis; the little tin tubs in use in town weren’t anywhere near as comfortable. She bathed quickly, conscious both of the sun’s retreat from the pool and of Josiah waiting outside; then she took a few minutes more to wash her hair in the abundant warm water, a luxury in this arid land.
When she came around the rock wall, carrying her full water bucket and still running her fingers through her damp hair with her free hand, she was dazzled by the desert’s heat and light. Josiah was a large shadow in front of her sun-blinded eyes. As her eyes adjusted to the glare his face emerged, smiling down at her. "Good bathtub, huh?"
"Oh, Josiah...you’re a magician!" On impulse she stood on her toes and reached up to touch his cheek with her lips.
His reaction was entirely unexpected. His hands came up to grab her shoulders and he pushed her away from him, making her stumble on the uneven ground. Without an apology or any word at all, he turned, grabbed up his buckets, and started down the trail.
She hurried along behind him until they came to the place where they had stopped to admire the view on the way up. There he stopped and turned to her. "I’m sorry. I was rude." His voice was honestly contrite, but as he looked straight down at the ground his face was mostly hidden from her, too much obscured by shadow for her to read his expression.
She hesitated, but thought better of inquiring about his reasons. Instead, she made as little of it as possible, changing the subject immediately. "It’s all right. Josiah, where does the water go?" She put down the bucket she was carrying and leaned against a boulder.
He looked up. "The water? Oh, the spring. I don’t know. Partly into the air. It keeps everything growing in there, but it must have an outlet at the bottom of the pool somewhere. There isn’t much current, not enough to tell where it’s going right off. You’d have to study it some."
Mary relaxed in response to his lightened mood. "This place must be famous among the local people. I’m surprised there’s not a line for baths on every sunny day!"
She chuckled as she spoke, but he remained serious as he answered her. "I don’t think anyone knows about it but me. I’ve never seen anyone up here, or heard anyone talk about it."
"Then I’m flattered and grateful to share your secret. You’ve been here before; do you come often?"
He still seemed uncomfortable; she hadn’t a notion why. "As often as I can. It’s good to be alone." He turned immediately and started down the trail, then stopped and smiled quickly over his shoulder. "Don’t forget the water; the horses are waiting for it."
As she followed him, Mary’s mind worried at the problem of what had happened. Her kiss was the obvious cause, but why should that upset him? He was a very self-possessed man, and she was willing to bet he’d been kissed before, plenty of times; he was no amateur at dealing with women. Was it religion? Oh! Perhaps so! Maybe he’d taken a vow or something. She didn’t know a lot about religion of any kind. Her father, who had raised her, had been a devout atheist. Well, whatever had upset him, he seemed to be over it now.
*******
"Josiah, do you think they’ve caught
him yet?" They were sitting at the cave mouth, comfortably full,
sipping coffee.
"Quien sabe? He’s pretty slippery. They’ll catch him when they catch him. One of these days we’ll see Chris riding up the trail and we’ll know he’s caught."
The man they were discussing had come to town two months before. He had no business, no apparent means of support, but spent his cash freely---freely enough that he was very popular with everyone, but especially with Ezra, who was practically making a living off Hannibal Wilson. After a couple of weeks, the general opinion was that he was a remittance man. His wealthy family in the East must be sending money, and the reason they were doing so became apparent before long. Hannibal was crazy.
He looked perfectly normal, and he acted that way on first acquaintance. Some of the things he said and did were a little odd, perhaps, but eccentric behavior is always tolerated in anyone with a lot of cash to spread around. When he took to shouldering women off the boardwalk, though, he’d crossed the line; the residents wanted their women treated with respect. Women were scarce and valuable.
Things got worse after that. He beat a horse almost to death before he was dragged away from it. He took to making insulting remarks under his breath as he walked by anyone he thought couldn’t or wouldn’t retaliate. And sometimes there was no one visible at all when he talked.
By the third week of his residence, he had centered his attention on Mary. When his advances were politely refused, he only intensified his courtship. Mary was finally driven to ask Chris for his help. Chris warned Hannibal off, not so politely, and very convincingly.
Chris’s warning drove Hannibal underground. He began to harass Mary furtively, accosting her when she was alone in the office, sending letters whose love words didn’t quite conceal vague threats---against Chris and against Mary herself. Chris held a conference, and the other six were called in to Mary’s defense. After that, Hannibal’s letters were intercepted and Mary was never without a watcher somewhere in the background.
Hannibal had one big advantage: money. When he could no longer get to Mary, he hired someone else to act for him. He disappeared from town, but his hired gunmen tried twice to kill Chris, without success. After the second failure, Hannibal’s insanity went over the top. His men planted charges to blow up the newspaper office with Mary inside. Only a drunken mumble from one of his hired hands on the preceding evening saved her and the office. The consensus among the Seven then was that they couldn’t protect her in the town any longer. Every stranger who walked by her was a potential assassin. So it was decided that Josiah would shepherd her, and he had elected to take her to this favorite spot.
While Mary and Josiah lazed by the campfire, Chris and the other five were scouring the territory for Hannibal Wilson. The would-be bomber was in jail, willing to testify to Hannibal’s hiring him to commit murder. When Hannibal was rounded up, he’d go away for a long, long time. In the meantime, Mary’s safety was in trust here on the mountainside, in Josiah’s capable hands.
*******
They sat in the coolness following
the departure of the sun, watching the last of the light disappear over
the slopes below, the stillness broken only by the very distant sound of
a coyote’s wailing cry. Mary spoke softly:
"The stately tragedy of dusk
Drew to its perfect close,
The virginal white evening
star
Sank, and the red moon rose."
"Who?" he said, almost whispering, after a minute.
A pause, then slowly, "I don’t remember."
Pause. "It doesn’t matter. It’s right."
The coyote continued to call, a lonely sound in the deepening darkness.
********
They spent the next day making the
camp more comfortable. With the aid of a small hatchet and some rope,
Josiah made a seat with a back for each of them out of the larger branches
of the nameless scrub that covered acres of mountainside, never growing
more than waist high. Then he improvised a small table for Mary’s
use in preparing food, and a rack to hang drying clothes on. When
that was done, he turned his attention to the beds.
"What we really need are evergreen branches to sleep on."
Mary laughed. "Well, I’m beginning to believe you can do anything, but if you can pull a pine tree out of your pocket, I’ll wonder if you’re even human!"
He glanced up at her. "I’m human." He looked away quickly, got up and went to the cave mouth to stand staring out. "Tomorrow we go for evergreens."
"Go? Where? Josiah, where?"
"You’ll see tomorrow. Now I’m going to use the last of the water to wash the dust off me, then we’ll fill the buckets again."
*******
The next morning, Josiah saddled
the horses and they set off after evergreen boughs. As he got ready
to help her mount, Mary put her hand on his arm. "Josiah...wait,
I want to say something." She looked up at him, her face earnest.
"I’m having the best time...you’ve made this trip into a wonderful adventure.
Thank you! Thank you for---for being so kind to me when this can
only be a chore for you."
"You’re not a chore, Mary. It’s a privilege to be with a woman who’s...well, anyway, you’re not a chore. Come on, I’ll give you a leg up."
"Wait a minute! Finish that sentence, Josiah, or I’ll expire of curiosity!"
He looked away from her, tightening a saddle strap. "A woman who’s..." He turned back, to look at her with that serious level gaze that she was learning to look forward to. "Who’s got all the best of woman’s qualities: sympathy, understanding, gentleness. Who’s quick to laugh, and quick to comprehend...and who’s so beautiful...." He turned back quickly to fumble at the saddle straps, flinching slightly when he felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Josiah." Her voice was husky with emotion.
********
The trip for evergreens was an outstanding
success. They rode around the mountain from their northwest-facing
cave farther to the west, and there they found trees in abundance.
"Rainfall’s twice what it is on the other side. Clouds drop what
they’re carryin’ here, nothin’ left for the other side," Josiah explained
in his usual laconic manner.
They came upon three deer as they moved through the wood. The deer looked up, undisturbed by the noise of the horses’ approach until the breeze brought human scent their way. Then they bounded away, lost behind the trees in three leaps.
"Josiah, that was worth the whole trip!" Mary’s eyes were bright. Seeing any kind of wildlife was a rare experience; it was scarce within ten miles of any human community, sacrificed to the cook pot. "Billy would have loved to see the deer. I hope to bring him here, someday."
On their return the horses were draped with evergreen fronds. With them Josiah made beds, as he said, "fit to sleep on." Mary agreed. "But it was getting them---it was the trip that was so lovely."
********
Several days went by without incident.
They went for water twice every day, and on one particularly hot day, three
times. The horses drank thirstily however much they were given. With
every day they knew each other better, and the unspoken attraction between
them grew stronger. Evenings of conversation by the fire were eagerly
anticipated by both of them, though neither said anything about it.
They talked about everything. Mary was amazed at the extent and breadth of his knowledge in every subject they touched on, and amused by the elevation in vocabulary and grammar that accompanied the more intellectual subject matter, and by his easy reversion to an unlettered drawl for more everyday matters. When she called it to his attention, he smiled a little and shrugged. "Well, when in Rome.... I’m not out to impress anybody. The high-class stuff isn’t my native speech, the other one is. But sometimes you need words of more than two syllables to say things."
Mary talked about her son, her pride in him, the difficulties of raising him without a father. Josiah surprised her here. He answered with understanding---both of her difficulties, and of Billy’s feelings of loss and disappointment that his father was no longer with them. "A widow has a hard way to go alone, raising a child. I think it’s hard enough with two parents. Does Billy say much? Will he talk about his father?"
Mary smiled. "Oh, yes. He remembers him much differently than I do, but maybe that’s good; his father is wonderful in his memory. He misses him still, very much, but his grandfather has been so good to us. That’s made it much easier for both of us. Billy’s with him now; I always can count on him, and I know Billy’s as safe and happy with him as he is with me."
The conversation turned one evening to Abraham Lincoln, or as Mary called him, reverently, "Mr. Lincoln"; they found themselves in conflict almost immediately. Josiah was speedily driven to justify his position against Mary’s indignant defense of her idol.
"No, no! Mary, I wasn’t implying anything shabby about him when I said that we don’t know much about him. He may have been the paragon you think him, although I think even the archangel Michael couldn’t live up to your notion of him!" She looked up to find him grinning at her. "All I meant was that you don’t know, and I’ll stand by that statement. You run a newspaper, you of all people should know how much is suppressed and distorted in the press. Sometimes it’s justified, but many times it happens for less than honest reasons."
"Josiah,
journalistic standards in this country are the highest in the world!
I don’t believe that anything of importance has been suppressed about Mr.
Lincoln."
"Do you believe that if he drank, or beat his wife, or went with prostitutes, the press would have reported it?"
She was stubborn. "The people deserve the truth; the press gives it to them!"
Josiah shook his head in frustration. Then he looked up at her, struck by a thought. "Mary, when Tom Sharpe died, did you print the entire story, all you knew? Did you tell the town that Tom died in a whore’s bed? I saw that story. You said he died on the way back to town from a business trip."
She looked up, began to say something, stopped; began again, stopped again. Finally her face broke into a wryly amused grin. "Trapped!"
"Well, you did the right thing.
No one needed to know the details." He smiled, then chuckled.
"I was there that night, when Joe Turner brought Tom’s body back to town.
He couldn’t wait to tell us all about it, and he didn’t miss a thing.
I’ll never forget his face when he turned around and saw you standing there!
‘Uh...uh, well ma’am, maybe they wasn’t exactly "humping", it was
more like they was having a---a conversation!’" Josiah’s face
and voice reproduced exactly the man’s embarrassed confusion, and his self-satisfied,
beaming smile when he triumphantly spoke the last word. Mary’s laughter
bubbled up to join his, stopping further talk. The dispute over Mr.
Lincoln’s character and the honor of the press was forgotten in their amusement,
and in their growing joy in each other.