times she had read the Bible and talked about God. In his mind he was certain the two were connected.
“I got something you might like to see.” He pushed to his feet. Digging in the saddlebags, he found a paper-wrapped parcel and took it to her.
She turned it over in her hands. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Maggie’s fingers danced at the knots, then she unfolded the crackling paper. “It’s a Bible,” she whispered, trailing her fingertips over the black leather.
“It was my mother’s.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She wanted me to take it.” He’d been home on one of his visits. In the months since he’d last seen her, she had failed noticeably.
“One of these days you won’t be needing to come back here. You can follow those cows and that trail as far as you like,” she’d said. “Son, I wish you all the best. I wish life could have been better for you, but”—she sighed—“keep my Bible with you always. Read it. Maybe you’ll do better than me in learning God’s ways.”
After her death he had disposed of her meager belongings but, remembering his promise, had packed the Bible for the trip west.
Eyes wide and bright, Maggie stared at him a moment, then turned back to the Bible. “My ma always wanted a Bible. She said her folks back in the old country had one.” Slowly she opened the pages. “I can’t believe I’m actually holding one.” She turned page after page, letting her hand slide over each. “It’s so beautiful.”
The pages fell open at the center, and she tipped the book toward the flames so she could see better. Crane watched as she read the black spidery names in the family tree. “Thomas Crane was your father.”
“Yup.”
“Powell Crane?” She looked at him again.
“My brother. He was born four years before me. He only lived six months.”
She looked away. “How awful.” A shudder shook her. Then her finger trailed up the page. “Imagine being able to see all your family like this for all these years gone by.” She fixed a searching look on him. “It must make you feel good.”
Crane rocked back on his heels as he considered it. All his life he’d been a loner. He hadn’t given family a lot of thought, except occasionally to acknowledge to himself that his mother’s dependency tethered him to his home. But Maggie’s words hit a mark. “I guess it’s kind of nice.”
Satisfied, she nodded. The sound of crashing wood echoed across the clearing, and Crane turned to see Ted wipe bark and leaves from his arms, a pile of branches at his feet. In the dimming light the boy looked even bonier, his face all sharp angles. Crane glanced toward the trees. Darkness had fallen as they talked.
“Time to call the children in,” he murmured even as Maggie called, “Ted, stay here now. That’s enough wood, thanks.”
On the heels of her voice, Crane called out, “Betsy, come in now.”
“Coming.” The light voice carried through the dusk, then she could be heard singing, the words and voice growing more distinct as she skipped toward them.
“Look what I found.” She knelt at Maggie’s side and unwound her objects from the rolled-up shirttail. “A shiny rock and this one all full of holes.” She set them at her knees. “And look.” She held up a twisted piece of driftwood rubbed soft by the water. “It’s so pretty.” She lifted it toward Crane. “Isn’t it, Crane?”
He smiled. “It sure is.” Even so young, she was quick to let go of the past and rush wholeheartedly into the future.
Scooping up her treasures, Betsy sprang to her feet and scampered to the far side of the fire where Ted sat as still as a stone. “Look, Ted. See all the nice things I found.” She held them out for him to examine. “There’s lots of good things down there. You should come with me next time.”
Ted lifted his face and scowled at her. “It’s dumb junk,” he muttered.
Crane pulled himself taller. It was the first words
“I got something you might like to see.” He pushed to his feet. Digging in the saddlebags, he found a paper-wrapped parcel and took it to her.
She turned it over in her hands. “What is it?”
“Open it and see.”
Maggie’s fingers danced at the knots, then she unfolded the crackling paper. “It’s a Bible,” she whispered, trailing her fingertips over the black leather.
“It was my mother’s.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “She wanted me to take it.” He’d been home on one of his visits. In the months since he’d last seen her, she had failed noticeably.
“One of these days you won’t be needing to come back here. You can follow those cows and that trail as far as you like,” she’d said. “Son, I wish you all the best. I wish life could have been better for you, but”—she sighed—“keep my Bible with you always. Read it. Maybe you’ll do better than me in learning God’s ways.”
After her death he had disposed of her meager belongings but, remembering his promise, had packed the Bible for the trip west.
Eyes wide and bright, Maggie stared at him a moment, then turned back to the Bible. “My ma always wanted a Bible. She said her folks back in the old country had one.” Slowly she opened the pages. “I can’t believe I’m actually holding one.” She turned page after page, letting her hand slide over each. “It’s so beautiful.”
The pages fell open at the center, and she tipped the book toward the flames so she could see better. Crane watched as she read the black spidery names in the family tree. “Thomas Crane was your father.”
“Yup.”
“Powell Crane?” She looked at him again.
“My brother. He was born four years before me. He only lived six months.”
She looked away. “How awful.” A shudder shook her. Then her finger trailed up the page. “Imagine being able to see all your family like this for all these years gone by.” She fixed a searching look on him. “It must make you feel good.”
Crane rocked back on his heels as he considered it. All his life he’d been a loner. He hadn’t given family a lot of thought, except occasionally to acknowledge to himself that his mother’s dependency tethered him to his home. But Maggie’s words hit a mark. “I guess it’s kind of nice.”
Satisfied, she nodded. The sound of crashing wood echoed across the clearing, and Crane turned to see Ted wipe bark and leaves from his arms, a pile of branches at his feet. In the dimming light the boy looked even bonier, his face all sharp angles. Crane glanced toward the trees. Darkness had fallen as they talked.
“Time to call the children in,” he murmured even as Maggie called, “Ted, stay here now. That’s enough wood, thanks.”
On the heels of her voice, Crane called out, “Betsy, come in now.”
“Coming.” The light voice carried through the dusk, then she could be heard singing, the words and voice growing more distinct as she skipped toward them.
“Look what I found.” She knelt at Maggie’s side and unwound her objects from the rolled-up shirttail. “A shiny rock and this one all full of holes.” She set them at her knees. “And look.” She held up a twisted piece of driftwood rubbed soft by the water. “It’s so pretty.” She lifted it toward Crane. “Isn’t it, Crane?”
He smiled. “It sure is.” Even so young, she was quick to let go of the past and rush wholeheartedly into the future.
Scooping up her treasures, Betsy sprang to her feet and scampered to the far side of the fire where Ted sat as still as a stone. “Look, Ted. See all the nice things I found.” She held them out for him to examine. “There’s lots of good things down there. You should come with me next time.”
Ted lifted his face and scowled at her. “It’s dumb junk,” he muttered.
Crane pulled himself taller. It was the first words
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