A Home in Drayton Valley by Kim Vogel Sawyer

request. “Yes, Mary. I will.”
    â€œYou promise?”
    â€œI promise.”
    Mary’s hand fell away from Tarsie’s wrist. Her face relaxed as her eyes slipped close. “Thank you.” Air escaped Mary’s lips, a whisper-soft sigh of satisfaction. And then silence fell.
    Tarsie stared into Mary’s sweet face, holding her own breath as she waited for her friend to pull another life-giving breath into her lungs. But Mary lay still. Tarsie’s chest burned with the effort of withholding her own breath— Breathe, Mary! Breathe!— but eventually the air whooshed from Tarsie’s lungs on a tormented moan of sorrow. Sobbing, she threw herself across Mary’s lifeless body, willing the warmth and life she possessed to somehow transfer to her friend. Emmy, Nathaniel, Joss—they needed Mary so badly. How could God take her?
    Over her heartbroken sobs, the echo of Mary’s voice reverberated through her memory. “Will you be God’s love on earth to my precious children and to Joss?” With stiff, painful movements, Tarsie forced herself upright. She’d made a promise, and with God’s help, she would honor it. Her first task would be finding a way to tell Emmy, Nathaniel, and Joss that Mary’s spirit had slipped away.
    Swallowing her tears, she gently covered Mary’s face with her apron. Then she turned toward the wagon’s opening and borrowed a prayer she’d heard Mary whisper many times.
    Strength, Father.

 10 
    H is Mary would never know if Kansas grass tickled her feet, but at least she’d been put to rest in Kansas soil. Joss swallowed the massive lump that filled his throat and hoped his wife would be satisfied with the simple grave on the far fringes of White Cloud, Kansas.
    Strangers surrounded the mound of dirt that covered Mary’s body—all of the black travelers from Murphy’s train, Murphy himself with his hat in his hands, the doctor Joss had summoned but who’d arrived too late, and a solemn-looking preacher the doctor had dragged out to perform a simple ceremony. Joss reckoned he should appreciate their presence, but resentment churned through his gut. These people didn’t know Mary. They didn’t belong here. But a weariness heavier than anything he’d ever known held him captive, and he couldn’t dredge up enough energy to send them away.
    The preacher’s voice rose with conviction as he read from the Bible. “‘Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.’” The Bible’s pages fluttered in the wind, and the man smoothed them back into place. His head low, he closed his eyes and offered a prayer.
    Joss shut his ears to the petitions, the same way Godmust’ve shut His ears to Tarsie’s prayers and the prayers Murphy said his people sent up to the heavens for Mary. A God who’d take a woman like Mary before her time wasn’t worth beans in Joss’s estimation.
    The preacher concluded his prayer with a deeply intoned “amen,” and the folks gathered behind Joss echoed it before they ambled away. Tarsie stretched out her hand to the minister and thanked him for coming, but Joss kept his hands clamped over Emmy’s and Nathaniel’s small shoulders. He wouldn’t offer a thank-you he didn’t mean.
    The moment Tarsie stepped back from the preacher, Joss pushed the youngsters in her direction. “Take ’em to the wagon and stay put. I got me some business in town. I’ll meet up with you later.”
    Tarsie’s eyebrows crunched. “What kind of business might you be having in town?” She tugged the children snug to her sides, her eyes widening. “You aren’t fixin’ to”—her voice dropped to a raspy whisper—“drown your sorrows?”
    Joss snorted. “A man’s got a right to pickle his insides after