Far Away Home by Susan Denning Page A

not catch her breath.
    Grabbing her
pillow, Aislynn jumped down from her bunk. Throwing on her clothes, she picked
up her bags and walked to the tavern door.
    Aislynn knocked
until a disheveled man answered. Women were not allowed inside, so she stood in
the doorway and asked for Johnny Maher. He appeared instantly.
    “I can’t sleep
with these people; they’re pigs.”
    Johnny’s
shoulders sagged. “Wait here.”
    He returned to
the barroom and re-emerged with his bag and a lantern. “Come on,” he said.
    “Where are we
going?”
    “To the stable.”
    As they walked
away from the tavern through the numbing Nebraska night, Aislynn looked up at
the navy sky. Through the brittle air, stars pierced the heavens and a huge
slash of white glowed against the darkness. Aislynn stopped and pointed.
“What’s that?”
    “A whole bunch
of stars called the Milky Way.”
    “Why don’t we
see it in New York?”
    “Too much light,
not enough sky.” Johnny answered.
    Aislynn imagined
the stars pointed west and viewed the phenomenon as a good omen. Johnny led her
across the muddy yard through the broad bay doors of a barn built of raw wooden
planks. Following, she struggled to keep her skirt up, but her shoes could not
escape the damp. In the barn, the dirt floor was dry and swept and the stalls
were clean. Johnny pointed to a loft with hay spilling over its lip. “We can
sleep up there.”
    She started up
the ladder, and Johnny followed her carrying several horse blankets. He leveled
the hay and covered it with the blankets. Then, he brought up their bags.
    Motioning at the
improvised bed, he said, “Sleep.”
    Aislynn threw
down her pillow and lowered herself onto the blankets while Johnny dimmed the
lantern and stretched out next to her. She found the hay comfortable, but she shivered.
    “Cold?” he
asked.
    Pulling her
shawl over her head, she said, “Yes, mainly my feet.”
    Johnny rose and
turned up the lamp. He fished around in his bag and pulled out a pair of large
socks knit from thick gray wool. Kneeling at her feet, he untied one of her
muddy shoes. He pushed the sock up her leg. She wondered if it was the sock or
his hands under her skirt, but she felt warmer. Aislynn knew she should take
charge of the job herself and reprimand his forwardness, but she did not want
to. He took her shoes to the edge of the loft and slapped them together,
knocking off the mud. “They should be dryer by morning.” He lowered the lamp
wick and lay next to her.
    “Move closer and
we can share my coat,” Johnny offered.
    Rolling to face
him, she placed her hands on his chest and hid her face between them. He
cocooned her in wool. She listened to his breathing, felt his heart and
wondered at the mysterious workings of his body.
    Aislynn knew she
was a traitor to their plans, but she thought it was a good time to ask,
“Johnny?” she circled one of his shirt buttons with her finger.
    She could feel
him inhale, “What?”
    “I don’t think I
can tolerate stage stations after the places we’ve slept. Do you think we could
take a wagon instead?”
    Although Johnny
nodded, she continued her defense. “It will cost us close to three hundred
dollars to take the stage and there’s no telling how much lodging and food will
run. If we wagon, I could do the cooking so we’d know what we were eating, and
we’d know where we were sleeping. It’s more expensive, but we’d have a wagon
and horses and lots of the things we’ll need when we get to Utah.”
    “I was thinkin’
the same thing.”
    “Why didn’t you
suggest it?”
    “Because you
did.”
    Aislynn wished
he had said it first. She did not want him to think of her as weak and
pampered. She knew they were beginning an arduous trip, one that required
sacrifices, but she did have some needs. For a minute, she settled in her
thoughts then asked, “Johnny?”
    “Hmmm?”
    “Cheyenne’s a
big town,” she started. Aislynn felt Johnny nod. “I know we’re trying to