CHAPTER 16
Chet’s abrupt announcement of sleep left Matthew sitting by the fire to contemplate his own problems. Throughout the day he hadn’t forgotten the loss of his wife. It was like having a splinter stuck deep beneath a fingernail- you could still function, and move, and go through the motions, but the pain was always there and never to be ignored.
But now, with Chet’s slipping into sleep, there were no distractions from his own inward pain- no horse riding to concentrate on, no trail to follow, no Chet to talk to, no activity. Tormenting thoughts crowded in on his own nighttime vigil. The darkness of the night seemed intent to smother the flickering light of the fire, to creep in and strangle Matthew, to mock him for his loss, to whisper the frightful things that darkness hides just out of sight, to taunt him for his inability to protect his wife. The thick darkness played just outside the ring of the fire’s light.
He wrestled with trying not to think the worst now that the thieves had made it back to their cabin with their captive. This thought alone plagued him as the night wore on, and every time he tried to back away from this troubling thought, he would bump into a new one that would wrestle with his emotions. All of the worrisome attacks boiled down to one overwhelming truth- his precious wife was lost to him.
He kept the fire fed with the occasional stick or two as he worried and fretted and prayed with a desperation he had never felt before. The prayers in the daylight are not like the prayers in the darkness of night. They seem to travel much less, as though the darkness itself was like a great net that held the words captive. His prayers earlier in the day, though deeply heart felt, were having little comfort now with his forced inactivity.
But still he clung to his resolve to trust God through the plaguing thoughts, as he consciously reminded himself that a rope’s strength is tested with the pressure of pulling.
A thought pierced his troubled and fraught mind like a lighthouse on a stormy sea. It was the words of his pastor who had told Matthew that there were going to be times of deep struggle while being a pastor. One of the best ways to combat those battles is to recount how God had been faithful, or worked, or blessed, or provided.
Matthew purposely forced his mind to search the past for examples. The exercise was not difficult as scenes past through his mind from the day of his conversion and a number of other significant spiritual experiences. But his mind didn’t linger for any length of time on any particular event until it lit upon Alice.
It was their engagement that came to mind most vividly. Her father had given Matthew his permission to marry Alice in spite of the disastrous Sunday meal. Matthew hadn’t told Alice of his intentions or of what he wanted to talk to her father about, though he knew she was suspicious. He asked her father to keep it all under his hat, at least to Alice, and his father was true to his word.
The following Saturday Matthew arranged to pick Alice up at her house in a carriage he had hired. They went to Lake Park and strolled through it, stopping to sit on the bench by the lakefront and talk. They talked about everything under the sun, and though marriage was unspoken, every nuance of speech had its way of suggesting marriage and a life together. Though they rarely touched each other while in the park, the young lovers could feel the others presence and the close proximity of the other. Her fragrance danced like an enchanted dream about her, and Matthew drank it in like bee drinking nectar from a flower.
In time they made their way back to the carriage and Matthew asked the driver to take them to the restaurant he had chosen. He had never eaten there, but he knew from asking around that it was indeed the finest in Chicago. In fact, he was spending a substantial portion of his meager savings on this day; the meal would cost more than the price of the carriage rental.
They ate slowly, allowing their companionship to be savored more deeply than their meal while piano music played as a background for their meal. Their conversation meandered like a gentle stream going from one eddy and then smoothly moving to another. She talked of her childhood, and he talked of his future while their eyes held each other. The evening felt like poem.
“Alice,” Matthew reached across the table and took her hand in hand in his, “you have come to mean so very much to me. Your image remains in my mind through out the day, and I find your voice to be like a song that plays through my soul. Your coming into my life was like a sunrise. You brought warmth to the cold places of my heart, and shined a golden glow upon my life.”
Her eyes sparkled with each word and a red glow grew upon her cheeks. Matthew could feel the grip of her hand grow stronger as it began to tremble.
“I have fallen so irresistibly and irrevocably in love with you, that to turn away from you would be like removing the moon from the sky.”
Matthew kept hold of her hand and moved from his seat and came to her side and slipped down to one knee. The conversations at the other tables slowly came to a hush at the scene taking place before them.
“I am a beggar asking a princess for her hand. I am far from worthy, but I long to share our lives together. Alice, would you give me the greatest of dreams and become my wife?”
Silence filled the room, as even the piano player had stopped, and to Matthew it seemed as though the world was holding its breath as he gazed into Alice’s eyes.
“Nothing, my dearest Matthew would make me happier, for sharing our lives together has become my greatest dream also.”
She fell upon his neck and they embraced, while the room broke into applause for the young couple.
The fire had grown small enough to loose its heat, and the night temperature crept closer and settled upon Matthew, bringing him back to the present, the memory of her sweet fragrance lingering in his mind. He reached over and poked the fire with a stick stirring up the coals and replenished the fire’s fuel with a few more sticks. He slid his back down the saddle he was leaning against, his eyes searching the heavens for nothing in particular.
He hadn’t expected to be able to sleep this night, but he was surprised to hear Chet’s voice saying it was time to get up. Matthew sat up and saw that the eastern sky had begun its struggle to chase the night away.
“Soon as that sky is givin’ ‘nough light, then we got to get a move on.”
Chet had already stoked the coals back into a small fire and had made more coffee. He proffered a cup to Matthew, “Have a cup of belly wash to start the day.”
“No thanks, you have the first cup.”
“Already did. This one is for you.”
Matthew accepted the coffee and put the cup to his mouth for a small sip. He stood up, and found that he was stiff and sore from the day before. He groaned as he stretched. His back creaked, and his head throbbed.
“Your yesterday was a rough one,” said Chet as he saw Matthew trying to get his body started. “You’ll be loosin’ up all ‘em joints of yours in no time, Son.”
The two ate the last of Chet’s hard tack and a few pieces of jerky for their morning meal. Then Chet set about gathering the four horses that had indeed not strayed far. Matthew did what he could to help ready the horses, but Chet’s adept hands ended up doing nearly all the work.
By the time the day had established its hold and gave enough light to see well enough for tracking, Chet had the two men mounted with horses tied in tow. They moved back to the location of the last set of tracks and paused as Chet leaned out from his saddle and examined the ground once again. He nudged his horse further up the trail for a time while searching.
“They are traveling in single file here.”
“Does that make a difference?” asked Matthew.
“Not too much for us, cause we already know how many they got. But it would have been smart of ‘em to pay that more mind yesterday. They kept going from single file to spread out.”
“How would that change things?”
“In single file all the horses’ hooves get all mixed up and don’t show how many there is. You can still track ‘em, but you may not know how many of ‘em there is.
“Even now their tracks are still mixin’ with old tracks, but I can still see those deeper marks there.”
After a time they began to cross more frequently places in which the trail lead across flat stones where there was no sand at all. Each time they came to the other side and picked up the trail once again. Chet reined to a stop before his horse stepped into the next stretch of sand, his eyes searching the tracks before him. He slipped from the saddle and walked slowly beside the trail. He got down low and examined the ground.
Matthew sat his horse and watched Chet’s movements. He looked around at their surroundings, now illuminated from the low eastern sun. To their right were high hills with sharply cut banks defining the separation from the wash. To their left rose hills that had short cliffs where the water of the wash had long ago eaten away the hills.
Chet retrieved Matthew’s attention with his voice, “Looks like I might have lost their trail somewheres here about.”
“What do you mean?”
“I ain’t seein’ those heavy tracks no more. They must of set off somewhere back off this trail.”
“Will you be able to find it again?”
“Well, our horses probably did a good job of messing up the all the marks as we come this way. We been givin’ the slip.”
Matthew did not like hearing this, and his heart felt that recognizable tightening. “You think we lost them for good?”
“I wouldn’t go and say that yet. I got to look around a bit and see what can be seen.” Chet had said this while he looked around at what Matthew had already examined.
“That feller yesterday gave us warnin’ that this might happen,” his eyes still examining the surroundings. “He also said somthin’ about lookin’ like a cliff ain’t really a cliff.” Chet had continued to look at the left side of the wash.
“Don’t that stretch over that way all look like it ain’t nothin’ but cliff?”
“Sure it does,” responded Matthew.
“I’m thinkin’ that instead of goin’ back that a way to find the tracks, why don’t we head over there and see what we can see. We can always come back to this here place and work backwards.”
Chet remounted his horse and spurred it into motion, moving toward the side bank.
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