The Journey Ahead
It was a usual feeling that woke Amelia on the morning that she was set to embark on the journey alongside the stranger that had come into their lives so suddenly. She couldn't identify the emotion, somewhere between excitement and uncertainty. All she knew was that the world had somehow altered. She lays quite still, not lifting her head, trying to configure the change. It was dark, but not as dark as it should be at the time in the morning. Summer mornings were lighter with each day. Across the bedroom, she could see her mother fast asleep as a ray of the sun touched her face.
She told Mary that a horse ranch was hiring up north, not too far from here. She reasoned that this way, she will earn back Gin's stay and a little bit more money to spare. It would only be for a week. Lies have become a usual occurrence between her and mother. A relationship strained, she simply felt that telling the truth would only result in having to be denied what she wanted. Unnecessary lecturing.
Take last night as an example as Amelia came home from the saloon, Mary was not pleased; not with her recent isolation and secrets, the many bruises she would come home with, the trouble she would bring onto herself, and most of all, the gun that she held onto for bargaining reasons. Mary let her have an earful of her thoughts on how her daughter's life is sparling out of control using the tiresome phrase of how she doesn't know what her daughter is turning into.
But Amelia stood her ground, justifying the erratic behavior with reasons such as how violent the world around them is, and how she's just responding to it. Naturally, the argument escalated to blaming each one for past choices that they did not agree on and the women went to bed on bad terms.
The house was filled with silence now, expectant, like a pause between the intake of breath and the uttering of a word. Soon there would be the muted roars of the furnace coming alive in the basement. Amelia slowly rose her body, tossing each leg out of bed before promptly getting dressed. She pulls out a small wooden box from deep underneath the bed, opening it to reveal a stack of papers wrapped in a woven string. She bites her bottom lip while undoing the knot, shuffling through the bunch of papers, unfolding individual pieces and glancing at them with frantic eyes, 'All still here.' She comes across a rather lengthy document that reads: Western Expansion of the Transcontinental Railroad as planning by Robert D. Linton. She lets out an exhale, 'What a heavy burden…'
She glances once more at Mary, making sure she is still asleep. She places the stack of documents back in the wooden box, tucking her secret far underneath the bed.
She made her way downstairs, slowly and as quiet as possible. But the old farmhouse floorboards would creak with each step and she could only hope it wasn't loud enough to wake anyone. The dishes left on the table indicated that someone was there before her. She glanced out the window; in the distance she sees the owners of the farmhouse tending to their livestock.
On her back, a bag full of the essentials she thought would suit the journey ahead. She packed a bed sheet to use as a tent, two pairs of socks, and a pair of work jeans. As for equipment, she brought along a lasso, binoculars, and a lantern, compass, oil and a wick, some matches too. Small supplies of fruit and a full loaf of bread for starts, assuming they would buy more food along the way. No weapons, not even a knife. Jamie's gun was long gone and probably somewhere at the O'Driscoll property where she had a bloody encounter with the gang.
She stepped outside, salvaging the misty dawn that was upon the land. The mountain air blew a cool morning breeze and she shivered; promptly, she tossed an extra layer of clothing onto her back. It was a wool poncho, an old blanket that her mother turned into a piece of clothing for her. The colors of it were dark, mainly consisting of sandy orange, a thick burgundy stripe running through the middle, and two smaller stripes of black with material fringe ends finished the textile piece. It was quaint, familiar to that of the old west style she was used to seeing back in Oregon. It was warm too, and during the journey ahead, she hoped it would remind her of mother's warmth. Even on the worst of terms, she stilled loved her mother dearly.
Arthur's horse trotted down the muddy path leading down through town and up towards Chadwick Farm. On his mind were many thoughts, mainly troubling ones; the recent law on their tails and the loss of gang members. Once more the past had caught up with them. Mary was on his mind too. She seemed so overwhelmed by their troubles, yet her eyes still had that spark in them, the one he loved so true. Nonetheless, she just served as a reminder that he couldn't have a life he desired; perhaps it was the clashing loyalty to the gang, or Mary, if only she had stuck out with him through it all. Ah heck, he was kidding himself, she wasn't cut out for this life.
Then he saw Amelia, standing next to the small nag she called Gin, grooming him with a brush in a delicate manner. She hadn't seen him approaching yet. He wasn't far, surely, she should have noticed by now. The rumble of the river nearby was concealing the sound of Angus's hooves. But even then, she should notice. There was a lot she needed to learn; he could tell straight away.
He mentally scolded himself for agreeing to this foolish proposition. If she was anything like Mary, he was in for a long journey ahead. He guessed she would complain, cry about the cold, become weak at the sight of a wild animals, and eventually need chaperoning back to Valentine - all before the day ends. But a man of his word he was, and he nudged his horse to go forth. He swiftly whistled to grab Amelia's attention; She spun her head and smiled at the approaching man.
"You need to be more aware of your surroundings, kid." He commented and she scrunched her forehead, slightly insulted.
"What do you mean?"
He tilted his head and looked at her with an ironic smirk, "That's Mary's daughter alright." A bit naïve she was, he shook his head. "Never mind." His voice trailed off, before changing the subject. "Got everything for the journey? Or do you need to stop at the shop."
She didn't answer for a moment, as her attention went from the man's face to his right shoulder, where the rolling block rifle that casually hung from his back glistened from the sun, the light bounced off from the silver barrel with each movement of his shoulder. The gun was imposing, decorated with intricate oak and detailed at the trigger and sight with dark metals. At the saddle, a double-barrel shotgun hung as a back-up. Then she saw the ammunition belt filled with to its brims with bullets, a pair of revolvers at the hip, a hunting knife too. Previously, Arthur was not fully equipped with his usual weapons of choice as he only came around for dinner. So, in this instance, she saw a side to the man that was becoming more prominent; whatever he truly was, he must be a force not to be reckoned with.
Arthur picked up on her hesitation, and her lack of answer to his previous question, "Well, if you got everythin' then mount up kid. Got a lot of miles ahead before the day ends."
He grabbed Angus's reins, instructing the horse to turn in the direction of the footpath leading out towards the Heartlands. She mounted Gin and followed without a word. He picked up on the trail at a steady walking pace but her pace was slow, falling behind him with each step. He was not a mind reader, and his patience was running thin today; long and sleepless night as Jack cried through most of it while Karen sang drunken ballads and Abigail started arguments with John over her right to be sleeping in his tent instead out with the other girls.
Her eyes glanced at the man's back once more but this time he took notice. "What is it that you keep seeing back there?" He asked, curious himself.
"The rifle," She finally said. "We goin' hunting for big game or something?"
Arthur let out an ironic chuckle deep in his throat, assuming his predictions about her were true. He stopped Angus and Amelia's horse stopped right next to them - without her initiating the stop. He noted the lack of leadership with her horse too. She glanced back towards town.
He grew impatient before finally questioning her rather harshly, "Are you coming with me or not, kid?" He rubbed his tired eyes. It wasn't the girl's fault. He tried concealing his stand-off demeanor as he shifted in the saddle. It was never easy leaving home, he guessed. "Look," he tried once more, calmer and steadier this time, "There is still a chance to turn around and go back to momma. Out there, well, it's no joke, real rough world."
"This is what I wanted. I need to learn to live in it."
"A mess of your own doing?" He sarcastically questioned.
"It'll be what I make of it."
He nodded without looking back at the girl, "Let's pick it up then." He said as he cued Angus to a canter. She did the same to Gin, who picked up speed a bit too frantic, trying to pass Angus.
"Easy on the reins." He pointed out, "Give him some room but you need to be the one in control."
"T'is what I'm trying." She said as her hands traveled up and down the reins, trying to find control. Arthur chuckled and picked up speed on Angus, surpassing them so they were once more behind.
"Keep back, that'll get him to a better pace."
"I know how to ride, he's just a forward horse." Her words were defensive.
"He'll be as forward as you allow him." Arthur took notice of both of her hands on the reins, "Try it with one hand, let the other keep your balance."
She did as instructed; loosening the tension on the reins while only letting one hand hold onto them. With that release, Gin responded by going up a gait, galloping ahead with Amelia having slight fear in the eyes. They passed Arthur and his horse and picked up even more speed with the clear path ahead.
Arthur was quick to react, he raced behind them and in a matter of seconds, he stopped Angus horizontally in front of the galloping horse, Gin halted immediately, and Amelia fell forward into the mud. She spat the mud out and wiped her face that was turning a shade of red, "I ride just fine on my own! You go on and tell me all those tricks and all of a sudden, I'm flyin' face first Mr. Morgan!"
"You didn't have any control."
"I did! Up until you started spewing your golden tips that I lost control!"
He grunted in frustration at the sarcasm thrown his way. The child was testing him, and he didn't appreciate it one bit. He remembered his youth, and how Dutch first taught him to ride proper, if he were to be this blunt with words, he would quickly be reminded of his place with a slap to the face. He couldn't do that to her. He slid off the horse and towered over her. As she attempted to scramble off the ground, he grabbed the collar of her shirt and lifted her up to his level.
"Stop picking me up like this, handling me like a rag doll!"
'What an unnatural, rowdy child!' What he truly wanted to do is to toss her back on the ground, get on his horse, and leave her behind in a cloud of dust. He sighed, a man of his word he needed to be. "Listen!" He shook her by the collar, "If this is how you will respond to me through the week, forget it, the deal is off." He threw her back down with more force than he intended, wincing the slightest and immediately regretting losing his temper.
She looked down, a little less angry, her ego slowly started dispersing. Remembering her situation and that in fact, it was her idea to ask him for lessons. Maybe she had more than one area to learn, perhaps she wasn't as good as a rider as she imagined herself to be. She bit her lip, not ready to admit her shortcomings. She picked herself up, wiping the mud with little success. "Your way or the highway, huh?"
He mounted Angus, ignoring her rhetorical question. He nodded towards Gin, giving her the signal to mount up and so she did. Covered in mud and a bit of shame, somewhere beneath all that dirt was an inkling of an apology but she stiffed her lip and looked away.
Big bison walked lazily in a herd across the uneven grassy landscape. The wind wrestled with their fur as the large cows grunted and snored against the force of nature. The pair followed the animals at their pace, through the Heartlands they trotted slowly - mainly in silence. Arthur seemed to be far away and deep in thoughts and Amelia kept silent not wanting to irritate her companion any further. They rode past the tall grass and graceful birch trees.
The thickness of the day was drawn away, the wind had subsided, replaced by the coolness of the approaching evening. Fleeting hues of violet and yellow were seen over the land. They arrived at their first stop at the brim of a cliff just above the Dakota River. In the distance, the state line was visible. Amelia took out her binoculars, she could see West Elizabeth and it was just a short walk across the river.
Arthur set up camp, and Amelia did the same; although not as swiftly and tidy as his tent, she attempted her first try at making a home beyond her usual standards of living. She set up what would be just barely acceptable of a sleeping spot for tonight – only hoping it wouldn't be blown away at night. She emerged from the tent, Arthur had already started a fire with a pot of beans cooking for them, he poured a hot drink into the percolator that bubbled away. She pitched in her supplies too, sharing the loaf of bread and an apple with him.
They sat down, and just like the weather cooled so did their apprehension towards one. He passed a cup of tea towards the girl. She nodded as a form of gratitude, staring down into the hot drink. The rising steam warmed her face nicely, while the cool mint freshened her airways.
"Mint." He poured a cup for himself too. "You'll sleep better after drinking it."
"That would be whiskey's job to put me to sleep."
He smiled at the humorous remark. They shared a silence between one another, the fire crackling was the only noise in the still land.
Amelia swallowed a lump in her throat, embarrassed, she asked the question that had lingered her mind since the start of their journey, "Do you think I'm a bad rider?"
"Well," He began, straightening himself up in his seat, "You haven't left me impressed after that trick ride you pulled today." He added in that familiar dull mockery of his.
"It's the only thing I thought I mastered. Horses, that is."
"He's a good mount, but that horse needs more guidance. He's young and foolish, like you."
She dropped her head, hiding her face behind the brims of her hat, "I hear ya, I heard that before."
He turned back around to glance at the hitched horses. "He galloped ahead when he shouldn't, would have taken you for one hell of a ride - hurting the both of you along the way."
"I always gallop like that."
"No, he gallops like that. You're just there for the ride. If you plan on learning somethin' this week, you need to come to terms with control." He got up from his seat, intending to go to sleep. Before he left, he turned to her once more, "You're not green, lucky for me. But there is still much to learn."
The words were harsh but honest. Amelia gripped the cup tighter, ultimately though, she lifted her chin and nodded in agreement.
A smile crept at the corner of his lip, 'Stubborn child, stubborn and full of pride but determined. Reminds me…ah, forget it. I'm too tired.'