Crazy Woman Creek (13 page)

“Etta,” said Lenora, smiling up at the wagon after it came to a stop, “so good to see you.” She meant it sincerely. She craved the fellowship of this understanding woman more than ever right now.

“Lenora, dear,” said Mrs. Nolan, smiling broadly. “I should have come sooner. Here, help me down.” The woman handed her cane to Lenora, who held it in one hand and offered her other one to support her guest as she alighted.

“You go on in the house and move the coffee pot to a hot spot on the stove,” said Lenora, handing the cane to the older woman. “I’ll tether the horses.”

Once the horses were tied securely in a grassy area for grazing, Lenora returned to the house, anxious to indulge in a few hours of unburdening herself to a dear friend.

“My, that cake smells good,” said Mrs. Nolan, seating her herself on a wooden chair and leaning her cane against the kitchen table. She leaned over the cake that Lenora had set in the center of the table and inhaled. Yards of navy cotton skirting spread around her like a tent. She wore a crisp white blouse with a black cameo at her throat. Her white hair was parted in the middle and pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. For a woman in her sixties, she had an unusually flawless complexion and a wisp of natural pink in her smooth cheeks.

“Have you had many visitors?” asked Mrs. Nolan as she watched Lenora pull cups and plates from the wall cupboard.

“Yes, several. Womenfolk from the neighborhood. One or two from church.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be alone out here day after day.”

“True. But when they come I almost feel more sorry for them than I do for myself,” said Lenora, pulling silverware from a box behind a curtain beneath the dry sink.

Mrs. Nolan gave her a puzzled look.

“They think I’m a widow. It’s more awkward for them than for me.”

“
Hmm,” said Mrs. Nolan, not taking her eyes off Lenora.

After a while the coffee began to percolate, letting off little bursts of steam. When they were both settled at the table, coffee in their cups, crumbly coffee cake on plain white china plates, Mrs. Nolan reached across the table and took Lenora’s hand.

“Tell me dear, how are you faring? You alright?”

The pure compassion Lenora saw in those ancient eyes undid her. She started to speak, but so many thoughts bubbled to the front of her mind all at once that her mouth became like a crammed funnel, and nothing came out. She felt the hot sting of tears forming at the back of her eyes. Mrs. Nolan waited patiently for Lenora to sort her thoughts.

“Where do I begin?” said Lenora, setting her fork onto her plate. “You ask how I’m doing,” she said. Lenora closed her eyes briefly to compose herself, knowing that speaking aloud the worst of it—hearing it with her ears—would likely cause her to fall apart. “It’s a nightmare,” she finally said, “It’s Hell. I don’t know where he is or what has happened to him. Or if anything has happened to him at all!” She started to sob, reaching for a cloth napkin to muffle the sound.

Mrs. Nolan held Lenora’s hand and let her cry. When the sobbing grew quieter, she released her hand. “What do you mean you don’t know if anything has happened to him? They found his horse.” Mrs. Nolan spoke the words tenderly and quietly, as if trying to soften their impact.

“But they didn’t find
him
.”

The older woman pondered Lenora a moment. “Lenora dear, what is it? Do you fear the condition of the body? Sheriff Morris and his men are doing their best to find it before it’s, it’s
… destroyed.”

“No, not that.” Lenora looked down at her lap where she folded and refolded her napkin. After a few seconds of weighty silence, she lifted her head to meet the kind eyes of her friend. “They’re looking for a body, Etta. But I’m not sure there is a body.” Lenora took a deep breath to steady herself, pausing before speaking. “I think it’s very possible that James left me.” With these nearly whispered words, the most painful of revelations, tears started to stream nonstop down her face, spilling onto her
white calico work dress. She opened the napkin and covered her face, quietly sobbing. Her torso shook with grief.

“Lenora,” soothed the older woman, “James would never do that. He would never leave y
ou.” Mrs. Nolan pushed her half-eaten coffee cake aside and scooted her chair closer to Lenora’s. She wrapped one arm around the heaving younger woman. “Lenora, what happened? You must tell me what is going on. What you know.”

Lenora’s sobs were louder now, despite the napkin she used to muffle them.

“Do you want to talk?”

After a minute Lenora removed the napkin from her face and nodded her head in assent. Her face and eyes were red and puffy from crying. “I need water,” she said. Mrs. Nolan removed her arm so that Lenora could get up from her chair. She walked to the bucket she kept on her work table, dipped the napkin into the water she had left there for cooking, and refreshed her face with it. The startling effect of cold water helped to stem the sobs. “I’m going to have another cup of coffee,” said Lenora shakily, as if to fortify herself for what was ahead. “And you?”

“Yes, to the top,” said Mrs. Nolan, perhaps sensing the same need.

Lenora poured for them both and then sat down and faced her guest. She put her hands on her lap and straightened her back, prepared at last for this dreaded moment. She knew without doubt that
it was time. Time to confess. And strangely, she felt ready, even eager, to release the weight of her awful burden. “On the night James left, we had a terrible fight.”

Mrs. Nolan’s pupils widened with surprise, but the rest of her face was placid.

“I said evil things to him, Etta. Unforgivable things.”

“What happened, Lenora? What made you so upset?”

“We had argued before. Many times. The same thing. He was killing himself, Etta. He was buying more Brahmans, enlarging the pasture. Working. Always working. Many times I asked to help him but he wouldn’t let me. He said I wasn’t brought up to do barn chores. I would have gladly helped, Etta. I wanted this ranch as much as he did.”

“I know you would have helped
, dear.”

“And I watched him work often, so I wasn’t entirely useless. I couldn’t do most jobs as well as he could, but I could have at least helped.”

“Yes.”

“I told him, ‘James, you have to hire someone to help you.’ But he wouldn’t. He kept saying we couldn’t afford it and that he’d be fine.”

Lenora spooned cream into her coffee, stirred it a bit, and took a sip. The sound of Ulysses’ chain dragging across the yard interrupted the momentary silence. Lenora had taken to chaining Ulysses during the day to ensure that he stayed on the property. She needed him to alert her when someone was approaching. Not only that, the sound of the dog’s chain dragging back and forth, back and forth, during the long, lonely days since James left comforted her. Likely now Ulysses had spotted some small field animal and was preparing to pursue it.

“But it wasn’t
fine
.” Anger rose in Lenora’s voice. “That Saturday night, I asked him to please set out the bathing tub for me. We had church service next day.”

Mrs. Nolan nodded, set down her coffee cup, and listened.

“James always brought in the tub for me on Saturday night, and emptied it again too. But when I asked him to set out the tub, he went crazy, Etta. He started yelling at me, saying awful things. Horrible things.” Lenora put her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes tight at the memory. “He terrified me. All I could think was that he was working so hard, always so hard. He was so tired. It was too much for him. He must have been exhausted beyond measure.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“But instead of waiting for him to calm down, I got mad.”

“What did you say?” asked Mrs. Nolan, timidly, as if she were afraid of the answer.

“I told him that first thing Monday I was going to go town and hire Sam Wright myself, whether he agreed or not.”

“Oh my.” Mrs. Nolan put her hand over her heart. “That must have riled him something awful.”

“Oh Etta! I had asked him so many times to hire Sam, but every time he said no. Money. It was always the money.”

“Hired hands do cost.”

“I know that. But it wasn’t only the money. He didn’t like Sam. He never really said why. He just didn’t like him. I knew it would make him furious if I brought up Sam’s name, but I was so tired myself after being on my feet cooking and cleaning all day that I didn’t care.”

“Sam drinks.”

“They all drink! Do you know of a ranch hand around who doesn’t drink?”

Mrs. Nolan didn’t have time to answer.

“I wanted to make him mad, Etta. I wanted him to see how his exhaustion was turning him into a wild man. I wanted to have a big fight to end all fights, to deal with our problem instead of each of us going our separate ways all the time, me sulking in one room and him brooding in another. Nothing ever changed,” said Lenora, exasperation evident in her voice.

Mrs. Nolan put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, taking it all in. “What happened next? To make him leave, I mean,” she asked.

“I was screaming at him. I don’t remember ... I don’t even remember what I was saying. I was out of my mind with anger at him, and then…” Lenora started to breathe heavily and noisily, clutching her middle, gasping for breath. “Then his hands were around my neck, and he was choking me.” She let out a little sob.

“Dear Lord have mercy,” whispered Mrs. Nolan.

“Then he looked stricken, and he let go. He didn’t hold my neck very long, Etta. Only for a few seconds. He didn’t mean to harm me. He just ... he lost control and I—”

“Oh Lenora
.”

“He left me then—we were in the kitchen—and he went to the bedroom and got his coat and hat. I said, ‘Where are you going?’ And he said, ‘Out.’ And I saw his gold pocket watch on the table. Oh Etta, James loves that watch. His father gave it to him when he turned eighteen—it was his grandfather’s—and it is so precious to him. He wears it everywhere. And I picked it up and I
threw
it at him. And I screamed,
screamed,
Etta, ‘You forgot your watch!’ It struck his back. Then he reached down and picked it up and he looked at me, and he looked so, so broken. I’d never seen a look like that on his face before. He didn’t say anything. Not good-bye. Nothing. He slipped the watch into his coat pocket and left. When he shut the door I started screaming at him all over again. I was like a mad woman, Etta. I screamed and screamed. I told him I hoped he died out on the prairie. I told him to never come back.”

Lenora laid her head down on the table, convulsing with grief. Mrs. Nolan put one hand on Lenora’s head, smoothed her hair and prayed, speaking unintelligible, soothing words. After a few minutes Lenora quieted herself, sat up, and waited for Mrs. Nolan’s response. The woman tenderly reached for Lenora’s hand.

“Lenora, I know you feel terrible about the things you said, and James is guilty too, but not for one minute do I believe that he left you because of what you said or did.”

Lenora did not meet her eyes. She only nodded, keeping her eyes on her lap.

“Did James ever hit you, Lenora?”

“No! Never!” Lenora lifted her head up to say this, as if for emphasis. “He gets in a lather easy enough. Everybody knows that. But he’s not a wife beater.”

“James cares about you, Lenora. He loves you.”

Lenora nodded again, speechless and spent.

“Don’t let the enemy bury you alive in guilt and condemnation. You’re listening to lies.”

“If James could have returned to you after he left that night, he would have. He would not abandon you, Lenora.” Mrs. Nolan’s tone was of utmost confidence. “Something happened to him out there by the North-East Creek. If not, he would have jumped right back on that fine horse of his and ridden straight to this ranc
h as soon as he had cooled off.”

“How can you be so sure?” said Lenora.

“James would never leave his horse to starve or freeze to death in a surprise spring squall. Everyone knows James Rose took good care of his animals. And Lenora," she added, "If James wouldn't abandon his horse, do you think he would abandon you?"

Lenora shook her head and screwed up her face in pain. Etta's assessment made sense, but Lenora was too distraught to speak, her mind assailed by doubts. She caused James a lot more grief than Beauty ever had.

“If they hadn’t found his horse, Lenora, I might believe differently. Then maybe, maybe I’d believe that he left you of his own power. But that’s not what happened.”

“He didn’t drown!” said Lenora, finding her voice.

“Maybe not. But likely, he is dead. There’s no other plausible reason for him not to be here with you now. Only the Great Divide would keep him away from you and this ranch.”

Lenora leaned over the table, her head in her hands.

“Do you believe that, Lenora?”

A long pause. Lenora sat up again and looked directly at her guest. “James wouldn’t intentionally leave Beauty to die. That’s unthinkable,” said Lenora.

“Of course.”

“But I’ll
never
believe that my husband stupidly fell into the North-East Creek and drowned.”