Ada's Secret Page 10

  Dark swaths of wind-driven dirt, ripped from the pasture, striped the towering white drifts, which blocked his passage to the barn. The fickle winds had left some areas completely barren of snow, while others were feet deep and crusty hard. Patrick began shoveling at the stone-hard drifts between the cabin and the barn. Impelled by worry for the animals, he tore at the drifts until he could clearly hear Sheba’s urgent neighing.

  Finally, as he cleared the last of the snow from the blocked barn door, he was able to open it. The opened door allowed shafts of sunlight into the dark interior where the two animals stood forlorn but safe. “I'll be right back,” Patrick spoke soothingly to the animals. “I have to check on the other girls. I hope they found shelter under the willows before the rain saturated everything.”

  The warmth of the October sun soon overpowered the unseasonably cold blizzard snow, and water began dripping freely from the roof. Patrick left the barn door open, allowing warm sun to filter into the interior, as he turned to the windswept pasture and stepped over the fences, now solid with heaped snow.

  Patrick saw what a good job Ada had done shoring up the fences and he was reminded again how much he missed her. “God, will you please soften her heart? I will never take her for granted again, but please, let her find forgiveness for me,” he prayed. Patrick continued to pray as he shoveled through another large drift in the middle of the pasture.

  “Odd. There’s nothing that would cause a drift this size to collect here,” Patrick whispered as his shovel caught something at the bottom of the drift. The snow of the drift wasn’t hard and unyielding like the wind-compacted snow. It was soft. The shovel easily lifted the ice crystals that looked and felt like sugar.

  Another shovelful disturbed the fine white powder, and it settled between what looked like red branches. There are no bushes here, Patrick thought. He fell to his knees as he dug around the curly red fluff revealed by the shovel. “No, God, No!” Patrick screamed as his frantic fingers explored the drift. Exhuming a cow’s lifeless head, his gloved fingers moved furiously until he found the white face with the soft curly locks. “No, no, no!” he shouted, to the serene eyes permanently closed in death.

  Desperately digging deeper into the frozen mound, his panic intensified. “No! No! No! No!” he screamed. Patrick’s actions became more frenzied. He dug faster until, one by one, the soft white face of each dead heifer was exposed. The icy rain had soaked their unprotected bodies. As the temperature had dropped and the rain had turned into a driving white blizzard, they couldn’t stay warm. Quietly they had huddled together and fallen into the deep sleep of death.

  All of the beautiful animals lay still. Patrick moved from each silent form to the next hoping that there might be a flicker of life in at least one, but there was no movement. He stood still as the reality of what he was seeing stunned him into disbelief. The drift had taken the lives of his entire herd and with it the life of his ranch.

  “I have lost everything! I can’t ask Ada to come back now. Without the herd, I’ll never be able to provide for her. Even if we were to survive this winter, we would starve next. I have nothing! Everything is gone and I will not subject the woman I love to certain death here in these frozen mountains.”

  The realization of his fate started at the root of his soul and migrated through his being. His dreams were crushed; his future lay cold and bleak before him. The painful reality drove him to his knees in the frozen turf as a scream slowly built in his chest. The first moan was soft, but it developed into a wail of agony, reaching a crescendo with a grief-stricken, tortured scream.

  “Oh God! My God, What have I done?” His cry resounded through the frozen canyon, echoing until the blizzard’s frigid snowdrifts consumed it.

  Chapter 17

  Patrick spent the rest of that dreadful day as well as the next, cleaning and skinning the lifeless shells of animals that had previously been his future. He let his thoughts wander to the happy day when he and Sheba drove the heifers from the stock pens in Fort Collins, through town and on the road to his ranch. He could still hear the man from the mercantile teasing him. “Cut those sweet heifers up into little pieces, dry them into jerky, and I’ll sell them to the miners and railroad men for twenty-five cents a pound,” the man called playfully as he waved his hat to Patrick.

  “Not on your life,” Patrick laughed back. He knew that his cattle would be far more valuable as breeding stock. Now the man’s playful words echoed through Patrick’s aching spirit, and he hoped he could get twenty-five cents per pound for the wasted meat that lay before him. Patrick finished skinning another dead heifer and tossed the raw hide onto a heap beside the barn wall. These hides will make good leather, he thought as he surveyed the growing pile.

  Suddenly, a wonderful idea surfaced: I could have a leather coat made for Ada. But just as quickly as the thought emerged, it was dashed as reality washed over him again. Ada is gone. This ranch has no purpose without her, he thought.

  Hours passed as he worked steadily into the night until exhaustion and loneliness overwhelmed him. He found his way to an empty stall filled with warm, sweet hay and lay down. His barren soul open, he expressed his torment as he prayed, “My heavenly Father, please forgive me and my foolishness. I can’t do this alone, but I don’t know how to make things right.” As he finished his plea, his fatigue engulfed him, and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

  ***

  The morning sunshine poured through Buttercup’s stall door as she gently awakened Patrick with her low mooing. He opened his eyes and was temporarily disoriented until he remembered where he was. Suddenly, a plan exploded in his mind.

  “Buttercup! I know how to make it right!” Patrick exclaimed, as he set the milk stool beside the waiting cow. “I’ll work for the railroad this winter. They’re paying premiums to men willing to lay railroad tracks in northern California. It will mean a very lonely winter, but I can make enough money to buy more heifers. Then, if Ada will come home, we can start over. If I tell her that I have accepted her past, do you think she’ll consider coming back?” Buttercup mooed in what he hoped was affirmation.

  Patrick, now motivated, finished milking the cow and quickly stocked Buttercup and Sheba’s stalls with fresh water and hay. “Frank will be here this afternoon,” Patrick told the animals. “With any luck I will be home in the spring, and we will start again. Frank will take good care of you until then. Be good girls now.” He patted the mare and the cow as he headed to the house.

  Knowing that he would be able to take only what he needed, he carefully packed his duffle. Railroad life would be hard, but he knew that it was the only chance he had to regain his life with Ada. As he looked over the cabin one last time, his attention was drawn to a picture on the mantle. A picture taken during happier times, Ada’s smiling face looked back at him. Allowing himself the luxury of a keepsake, he safely tucked Ada’s picture into his belongings.

  Patrick walked to the Tellers’ ranch through melting drifts. As he approached the ranch house, Frank and Grace waved in relief. “We were so worried about you,” Grace fussed as he entered the house. “Are you all right?”

  Grace looked at Patrick closely and her eyes saddened when she saw his dejected expression. She shooed the children out of the parlor as she took Nathaniel from Frank, allowing the two men time to talk.

  “I’m OK,” Patrick said sadly, “but I lost all of the herd. Frank, can you take me into town? I need to go to the railroad station today.”

  Frank and Grace became hushed as the crying baby made it clear that he would not wait any longer to be fed. Grace’s eyes brimmed with tears as she patted Patrick’s arm and took the Nathaniel into the kitchen. Frank put on his hat and headed toward the barn to hitch up the wagon as Patrick followed despondently.

  Patrick looked around his neighbor’s ranch. It had faired much better than his. All but two of Frank’s cattle had found shelter. Thankfully the Teller family would be fine.

  Checking the harnesses, Frank stepped i
nto the wagon as Patrick took the seat next to him. The road into town was drying quickly, and Champ had no trouble pulling the wagon through the shallow mud as Patrick revealed his strategy.

  “Frank, I hope everything works the way I planned. I will be back here April 15th, and if Ada will come back with me, we will get a fresh start. If she won’t have me - and I wouldn’t blame her - I will sell the ranch. I think I’ll go back to Vermont and try to patch things up with my mother and father.

  “Could you bring Buttercup, Sheba, and the chickens over here, and take care of them while I am gone? I’m sure you can use Buttercup’s milk, and the chickens will keep you supplied with eggs.” Patrick took a deep, sad breath and said, “The rest of the animals are hanging in the barn ready to have the meat stripped. The man at the mercantile said he might be able to sell it as jerky. Make him give you a decent price and you keep half of the money. I am taking a contract with the railroad in California where new lines are being laid. It’s dangerous work, but they will pay me a bonus if I work until the middle of April.”

  Frank sat silently while Patrick looked back over his shoulder and watched the snow-covered Rocky Mountains dwindle into the horizon as the wagon approached town. “I hope to be back soon,” he whispered.

  Frank pulled Champ to a halt in front of the railroad station. Patrick took his duffle out of the wagon and walked around to say good-bye.

  Frank reached out his hand to Patrick, “Patrick, I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in your situation. You know I’ll do whatever I can to help you, and we’ll take good care of the animals. I wish things had turned out differently, but you can count on me to be here April 15th.”

  Patrick grasped Frank’s outstretched hand and shook it one last time. “I really don’t deserve Ada’s forgiveness, but I am going to try to make things right,” he said. “I’ll stay in town tonight and catch the early morning train to Cheyenne. I should be in California in a couple of days if everything works. I know that the animals are in good hands. Thank you again for everything.”

  He quickly turned away, so Frank couldn’t see the glistening moistness in his eyes that threatened to become tears. Patrick walked dejectedly into the station. There, it’s done. Now the hard part, writing Ada, he thought sorrowfully.

  Chapter 18

  “Ada, we’re here.” Ma woke me when the Silver Dove’s personal railroad car arrived at Union Station. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I waited for the ladies to gather their belongings.

  Lettie stood next to me and wrapped her arm around me giving me a gentle hug. “Ada,” she said, “you know I am not happy about your situation, but I understand why you needed to leave us the way you did. I’ve missed you so much and I am very glad you’re home.”

  I smiled and nodded, “If it is OK with you, I would like to get out to the ranch this afternoon. I need to get my new life started, and hard work will help me more than anything.”

  “Lettie,” Ma said as she picked up her handbag. “That gives me an idea. Last week Chuck asked you if he could go to Chicago to help his mother. He said she was having some trouble with her health and was worried about her. Since he’s the ranch foreman we need him for the Christmas pageant and you told him that he would have to wait until after Christmas. Chuck taught Ada everything about running the ranch. She would be able to take over all of his duties.”

  Lettie thought for a moment and then smiled broadly, “You’re right!” she exclaimed. “Chuck could be with his mother for Christmas and we wouldn’t have to change anything for the pageant.” Turning to me she said, “There will be plenty of hard work for you. Would you be interested?”

  “Lettie, you know I couldn’t be more interested,” I said. “The answer is definitely yes.” After delivering the ladies to the Silver Dove, Jeremiah drove me out to the ranch. The beautiful place I had called home for so many years was once again before me. Knowing my marriage with Patrick was probably over, I was ready to start a new life here.

  It didn’t take long before I settled back into the routine of ranch life. News reached us about the freak blizzard and how Fort Collins had taken the full fury of the storm before it traveled north. I missed Patrick terribly and wondered how he had fared through the storm. I tried writing letters to him, but they always ended up in the fireplace. He had made it very clear that he couldn’t accept me, and I knew that if we were to get back together, he would have to make the first move.

  Two weeks had already passed, and everyone at the ranch was making plans for Thanksgiving. “I have a lot to be thankful for,” I said, but I couldn’t convince myself that I was as full of thanks as I wanted to be. There was plenty of hard work at the ranch that kept me busy and my mind off of Patrick. Chuck had organized everything before he left, but I was still trying to remember all the routines necessary to keep the ranch running. I was just beginning to think I would be an old maid living quietly at a ranch full of prostitutes when Maria, the head of the household staff, handed me a letter.

  “This came for you with the Ranch’s mail,” she said as her dark eyes followed me.

  “That’s odd. The postmark’s from Fort Collins and it’s dated October 23rd,” I said, looking at the wrinkled and scuffed envelope. “How did it take over two weeks for this to get here?” I looked at the address written on the envelope and instantly recognized Patrick’s neat script. Can this be from Patrick? How did he know where I was? I asked myself as my heart began to flutter. It makes sense that the storm would delay a letter this long, and I guess Grace probably told him where I was going.” With shaking hands, I opened the letter.

  My Dearest Wife Ada,

  I pray this letter finds you well. Grace told me you were going to the Silver Dove Ranch, and I hope you have enough mercy in your heart to read this letter through.

  I feel terribly about the dreadful way I treated you and your family. Many years ago, I had a dear friend that turned to prostitution, and her story still haunts me. I was so sure that I knew everything about its evils, but it is clear now that my righteous anger was not righteous at all.

  I should have let you tell me the truth about your life. You are the strong, remarkable woman I love because of the way you were raised. I have much to learn from you, and I beg your forgiveness, even though I don’t deserve it.

  I was so angry the day I left you at the train station. But when I realized what I had done, I went to Frank and Grace’s ranch, hoping you would be there. Grace had a few choice words for me, and she was right. She pointed out that I was being an idiot a hotheaded buffoon, and a few other fitting descriptions that I hope you will give me the opportunity to correct.

  I know that there is nothing in your past which I should be ashamed of. I’m done being a judgmental fool, and I want to make it up to you. You have every right to be upset with me. When I spoke my wedding vows, I promised that I would take care of you for better or for worse. I broke that pledge, and now I have no way to fulfill it.

  The storm killed all our cattle. Even if you were willing to give me another chance, we would never survive the winter, and I will not put you in danger because of my foolishness.

  I have a plan, though. I have taken a contract with the railroad company and will be laying track in California until April 15th. With the money I earn through the winter, we can buy a few heifers and start over again.

  My train from California is scheduled to arrive at Union Station on the morning of April 15th,and I pray you might be there. There will be no mail delivery where I’m going, so I won’t know if you have accepted or rejected me until I come back in April. Just the thought that you might be waiting at the station will see me through the winter.

  You are the love of my life. I can never heal the grievous wounds I have inflicted on you, but if you give me another chance, I will spend every day of my life trying to make it up to you.

  Please meet me at the station.

  I love you,

  Patrick

  “Oh Patrick,” I exclaimed.
I danced down the stairs. Ma and Aunt Lettie thought I had suddenly lost my sanity as I hugged everyone in the kitchen so hard that they howled in make-believe pain. I waved the letter at Ma and Aunt Lettie. “Read it!” I yelled.

  “I can go home in April!” I shouted. Abruptly, I remembered my promise to Aunt Lettie. “Aunt Lettie, I’ll wait until Chuck comes back from helping his mother, but do you think I might be able to go home in April?”

  Aunt Lettie laughed as she read the letter with Ma looking over her shoulder. “Funny how these things work out,” Lettie said. “I just got a letter from Chuck. It seems his mother wasn’t as sick as she made out to be. As Chuck put it, ‘She won’t die anytime soon because the Lord won’t have her, and the Devil doesn’t want her.’ I guess that means she’s just as ornery as Chuck is. Guess I better tell him to come back before they kill each other, and the Lord and the Devil are forced to decide what to do with both of them. Ada, don’t worry, there’s enough work around here to keep both of you busy until it’s time for you to leave.”

  I hugged Aunt Lettie again and skipped back up the stairs holding the precious letter clutched to my chest. I mentally began checking off each holiday until April 15th. This is almost the middle of November. Thanksgiving will be here soon, then Christmas, then ... Oh my heaven’s, I suddenly thought. I have to get the Christmas celebration started. Maria already has Thanksgiving well underway, but I am already behind for Christmas. I’m sure she’s already upset with me because I haven’t given her the menu yet. Well, let’s get going. This will be the best celebration ever, since I know that I will be going back to my husband in the spring.

  “Maria, did they send the pecans for the pies? Get me the whole bag because I will have them all cleaned and ready today.” Enthusiastically, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “I’m going home in April!”