Chapter Nine
A terrible summer thunderstorm came up just as Heath and Sally made their way back to town. The post office was the closest building to safety. They were sopping wet.
She unlocked the door with the key she withdrew from the chain tucked in her bosom.
"Lucky key" inadvertently crossed his mind.
Sally got several blankets and handed Heath one. They dried off, never taking their eyes off each other.
The wind picked up and several shutters peeled back from the roof. The thunder and lightning cracked as they heard torrents of rain hit the tin porch.
"Let me see to the leak in the assay room," and she grabbed a pail.
He looked around the room. His eye caught the bedroll and palette in the back room, almost a closet. He walked over and pushed the door a few more inches. A rag doll, two tin cups and plates, a pillow lay beside the blankets—an old quilt and mucking boots. Cloak and dress hanging on a nail—two books and a candle. A wooden box was ajar—-he recognized his handwriting from several feet away. Her stack rivaled his in the oak chifferobe compartment at home.
"Heath? Can you light a coal oil lamp? They are behind the counter."
"On it," and he backed up from the room.
He could hear the dripping from the assay office, "Need help?"
"I got it. Happens every storm."
The office shook with a flash of lightning and shudder of thunder.
"Oh my. Desert thunderstorms like to show off. My daddy said it's angry Apache gods who lost their land."
Heath had the lamp lit when she walked in. She had taken down her wet hair and the brown shirt clung to her slip. He could see the outline of the key. It unnerved him as he never imagined. It took everything he could muster to still his body.
"I refuse to treat her like a saloon girl—or actress as she said. Like every other man in her life."
But his noble thoughts were not strong enough to tame the physical desire.
"I heard something. Let me look outside?"
He walked outside into the heavy rain and drenched himself, "It's going to be a long night Lord."
At his awkward admission, lightning zig-zagged across the sky.
"Me too."
—-&—
The rain continued all night; Heath and Sally huddled together in their blankets talking until they fell asleep in each other's arms. He dared not even kiss her after the grist mill and his desire for her—
The sun streamed through the windows and voices were heard on the porch rattling the door, "Sally? Sally? You, in there? Your Pa needs ya. House burned from lightning."
Sally and Heath sat up immediately and Heath opened the door. A group of men was there.
"Who are you? Where's Sally?"
She pushed by him, "What happened?"
"Lightning struck the farmhouse. All gone. Your stepmother was hit by a beam. Didn't make it out. Your father got all the children out but went back for her. He's on his last breaths in the barn. Stopped by the Willards. They are coming to get their grandchildren—-well 'cept your kid."
Heath propped her up and put his arm on the small of her back, "I will go with you." She nodded in stoic agreement.
The postmaster came up at the news, "Take her in my rig."
"Thank you," Heath answered.
The miner from the night before grabbed Heath's arm, "Who are you?"
"Her husband," he spat and shook the bigger man's hand off of him.
All the men moved out of their way. Heath helped her into the wagon; she didn't speak a single word.
—-&—-
Heath and Sally followed the wagon of men out of town to the farm. She stared straight ahead as Heath drove the wagon. He would reach occasionally and pat her leg. She didn't respond.
The smell of charred wood assaulted their senses before they rounded the bend. She gasped when she saw the smoldering ruins of her family's farm. Several ladies came out of the barn when they heard the riders. They waved Heath and Sally over to them.
A dark-haired baby girl reached out for her mother from a lady's hip. Sally kissed the child on the forehead and ran her fingers through her hair. The baby held on tightly as Sally comforted her.
"In here, Sally"
She handed the toddler to a neighbor.
The smell of smoke and burned flesh made her nauseous. Heath followed her into the barn. The toddler was crying loudly for her mother, "Mama,".
The neighbor took her out into the yard to distract her.
Henry Worth was lying in the hay with shallow breathing and a gray pallor. A horse blanket covered his burns. His hair was scorched and gone. His eyes were the only sign of life.
"Papa? Papa."
"Sally? Baby girl?"
"It's me."
"Posy."
"She is safe thanks to you. They said you got all the children out."
"Good, "
"I miss your mama. You remind me of her so much. Emily has been with me all night."
"Tell her I miss her. I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, baby girl. Brenda and the kids need to go back to the community. Her parents. They have forgiven her for marrying me." he whispered.
She looked up at the ladies; they shook their heads that they had not told him Brenda had died.
"Sally?"
His rasping voice was broken up by a cough. Heath immediately reached down and lifted his head so he wouldn't strangle.
"Who are you?" he asked in surprise.
"Heath."
"Sally's husband? Posy's father?"
"Yes sir."
"Take care of her. I love my Sally." and he narrowed his eyes in parental protection with his last energy. Heath thought he would get up and punch him if he could. He got the message from the last steel in his eyes—before he breathed his last.
"I will, sir." and thought "I will remember that look the rest of my days. A dying man protecting his only child, his daughter."
He smiled and took his last breath, saying "Jesus".
Sally reached over and closed his eyes, "You were a good Papa. Hug Mama."
She looked over at Heath as he helped her up, "Thank you."
—-&—-
The Willards and their Mormon friends lined up for condolences. They brought nappies and a dress for Posy, along with a basket of food. The toddler clung to her mother. They seemed to comfort each other.
The men helped Heath build a coffin from the spare wood. They buried him next to his first wife, Emily. Sally put a makeshift cross by her father's grave.
"I put Mama's there with Daddy almost twelve years ago."
Heath kept his hand on her elbow; she refused to let go of Posy or accept help. She thanked the mourners.
Sally told the Willard's to take the chickens and the cow. They tied them up behind the wagons.
"Come back for the rest of the cattle. You will need them with three extra mouths to feed. The mule too."
Their daughter was taken back to the Willard plots for burial tomorrow. Heath and Sally followed the wagons back to their homestead in the postmaster's rig. Sally hugged the three motherless children and said goodbye.
The sun was beginning to set. Posy finally fell asleep in her mother's lap. Sally finally relaxed and put her head on Heath's shoulder for the last few miles back to town.