Friendship from Tears – Part 2

Welcome back! 🙂 I hope that your week has gone well. Mine has been pretty crazy – I returned from my mission trip in Ireland on Wednesday (it was absolutely amazing btw!) and have since been trying to get back into the normal routine of school. Not exactly an easy task…! 😀

Today I’m going to share with you the concluding part of the short story I posted last week. If you haven’t read part one, click here to read it. I hope you enjoy! 🙂

My eyes are caught by a brand on the horse’s flank – a ‘C’ inside a circle. “The Circle C… Have I heard of that before…?” Before I can chase the thought, another something bursts out of the bushes.

 But this time, this something is a girl. She storms towards me, hands on hips, dark braids swinging, anger oozing out of every move she makes. I back up next to Fire, poised for a quick getaway.

“You thief! How dare you?!” she throws her words at me, putting a protective hand on the palomino’s neck. The horse nickers and rests her head on the girl’s shoulder. “You know we hang horse thieves in this state?!” Her angry blue eyes throw me a challenge.

 I stiffen at her accusation, and draw my small frame up to its full height. I feel my green eyes narrow, returning the challenge, and my hands clench into fists.

“I. Am. Not. A. Thief.” I spit each word out with great disdain. “I was not stealing your horse, I was only wondering why a horse was wandering out in the middle of nowhere, and seeing if I could find out whose horse it was so I could return it.”

 “She’s not wandering out in the middle of nowhere, she’s on Carter land, and she’s a Carter horse. See the brand?” the strange girl says, pointing to the mare’s flank. “In fact, you are trespassing on Carter land. Right now.”

“I’m very sorry, I didn’t know I was trespassing.” I retort icily. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get off your Carter land.” I mount Fire, and we start to walk away from the girl. “And I was not trying to steal your horse!” I toss as a parting shot over my shoulder.

 “Wait!” Her voice has a strange sound to it. I pull the reins, and we stop, but I don’t turn around. I’m too mad. “I’m-I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions.”

 Is she going to apologize? I slightly turn my head so I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She’s standing next to the palomino, looking at me.

“Taffy disappeared, and then I heard noise, and when I peeked through the bushes, all I could see was someone standing next to her, and I-I guess I just figured that you were trying to steal her. I’m kind of protective of her, you see.”

 I turn around Fire around fully, and stare at this strange girl. One minute hopping mad, the next minute apologising – what kind of girl is she? She smiles apologetically at me, hand still laying protectively on her horse’s neck.

“Umm…” I’m still wary of her, and don’t really know what to say. I haven’t seen anyone as mad as that girl was two minutes ago in a long time. “Well…”

“Mother is always chiding me for my temper.” The girl continues on. “And I know I ought to be better at controlling it. It’s just hard to control it when you think someone is stealing your horse.” She giggles awkwardly, then stops when she sees that I’m unamused. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…” She stops, takes a deep breath, and then starts again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at that like you. Will you forgive me?” She looks up at me, her eyes pleading instead of spitting fire.

My mind races. I guess I don’t blame her for getting mad – I would be furious if I thought someone was stealing Fire! I give a small, reluctant smile.

“Sure, I forgive you. I would be mad too if I thought someone was stealing my horse.”

“Oh thanks! I really am sorry.” She shoots me an apologetic smile. “Shall we start over?” She asks.

“Huh?” My forehead wrinkles in confusion.

“You know, start over and get to know each other properly. I’m Andrea Carter, but you can call me Andi.” She sticks out her hand and gives me another grin. Her grin really is contagious, and I find myself shyly grinning back. I slide out of my saddle for the second time in ten minutes, and walk over to where she and her horse are standing.

“I’m Anna Moore. Pleased to meet you.” I shake her hand and then back up, not sure where to go from there.

“Nice to meet you, Anna!” She chirps. “How old are you?”

“I’m 13 next month.” I reply. “What about you?”

“I was 13 in May. So we’re practically the same age!”

“Yes!” I agree, and then silence falls again. I know I should keep the conversation moving, but my mind is still spinning from the rapid transition of events that have just occurred. The girl, or Andi as she calls herself, makes the first move again.

“Your horse is beautiful. What’s its name?” She stretches out her hand and lets Fire sniff it. I can tell she has a natural connection with horses.

“Thank you.” I reply. “His name is Fire.”

“Oh he’s so lovely!” She’s now scratching him under his forelock, his favourite place to be scratched. Fire gives a little grunt of happiness and a smile creeps across my face. Anyone that can make friends with my horse has found a place in my heart.

“And you said your horse’s name is…. Taffy?” I question.

“Yes, it is. I’ve had her since I was 6 years old.” Taffy is still standing contentedly behind her, her ears whiffling at the sound of our conversation. “How long have you had Fire?” She asks.

“Oh, since I was about eight. My Papa gave her to me…” I trail off and shift my feet in the dust. Those words bring back a slew of memories – memories that hurt more than they should.

“That’s nice. My brother Chad gave Taffy to me. I’d been simply longing to have my own horse, instead of a poky little pony. It was so hard being surrounded by horses and having to ride a pony instead.” She stops her flow of chatter abruptly. “Oh I’m sorry, I should explain. My family owns a ranch. The ‘Circle C’.” She gestures to the brand on Taffy’s flank. “So we have a lot of horses. You can imagine how delighted I was to have one of my own! And Taffy is my practically my best friend. We do everything together, don’t we girl?” She turns and strokes Taffy’s nose.

Taking the moment’s silence as a signal, Fire prods me in the back with his nose and nickers. I smile and grab his bridle to keep him from pushing me further. “Hey!” I chide gently

“Anyways, enough about me. I do tend to ramble on, unfortunately.” Andi chuckles. “So where do you call home?”

My heart plummets into my stomach at this question. Oh, how I long to go back to the only place I’ve ever called home, the cabin in the Oregon woods. But I can’t.

“Um, I’m living with Whit Hereford right now. He runs the dry goods shop in Fresno.”

“Oh yes, I know the one! I didn’t know he had anyone living with him. But then I haven’t been to Fresno for a while. No need to, now that school is over and done with for the summer. Thank goodness.” She gives a mock shudder and her blue eyes twinkle.

“My mother is going to help Uncle Whit run the shop. We moved there last week.” I shuffle my feet, uncomfortable at admitting this upsetting truth.

“Hey, that’s great!” Andi offers another grin. “And what does your Father do?” The question hovers between us as the warm breeze whispers in the trees. I struggle to keep my mouth from quivering, and furiously blink back tears.

“I… ah. He… um… died.” I manage to get out. “In January. It was a logging accident.” I look down and scuff my boots in the dust, my vision blurred by tears swimming in my eyes.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” Andi’s voice comes quietly, gently. “I’m so very sorry.”

“Thanks.” I manage to choke out.

“It’s hard, huh?” She softly asks.

“Yeah. Really hard.” I can’t stop my mouth from wobbling and soon tears are once again spilling down my cheeks. “I’m- I’m sorry.” I gulp. But floods are hard to stop once they’ve begun, and my tears just keep coming. I bury my face in my hands, and turn away towards Fire, embarrassed to be sobbing in front of this girl I’ve only just met. Fire lets me cry on his neck – he’s been used to it these past months.

Then suddenly, I feel something strange. An arm steals around my shoulders, and I feel the comforting pressure of a hug. It makes me sob harder, but all of a sudden my heart feels warmer. It’s as if a soothing layer of balm has been spread across the recently opened wound. After what seems to be an eternity, I take a deep, hiccoughing breath and look up. Andi’s face is warm with compassion and understanding.

“My Father died when I was five.” She says, simply. “I know what it’s like.”

She understands me. She understands my tears. The thought is comforting, like the final squeeze she gives me before stepping back. Fire whinnies concernedly in my ear and whooshes his breath over my cheek. “I’m alright, don’t worry, Fire.” I smile shakily and pat his neck to reassure him. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I compose myself, wiping the tear stains off my cheeks, and tucking away the wayward curls of hair that have escaped from my braids behind my ears.

“I’m sorry.” I say. “I didn’t mean –“

“No don’t be.” She cuts me off. “Sometimes you just have to let it all out.” She smiles knowingly at me. “I come here when I need to do some letting off. It’s my special spot…” She gestures round the clearing, and all of a sudden I realize that it is actually quite a pretty spot.  A brook babbles off to my left and birds twitter among the trees.

“I can see why.” I say. “It’s lovely.”

“Yeah, it’s good to just come and be alone sometimes. As long as no one tries to steal your horse…” She shoots a sidelong look at me, and I see laughter twinkling in her eyes again.

“Well I don’t think a horse thief would get very far with you on their trail!” I reply. I shoot her a twinkling look of my own, and suddenly we both burst into laughter. It feels good to laugh again.

“I should hope not!” We burst into another round of laughter, and I feel a weight lift from my shoulders. All of a sudden life doesn’t seem as bleak as before. Perhaps it is possible to find joy again. Our laughter dies, and we share a companionable   grin.

Then she looks up at the sky. “Oh dear, I must dash. Mother will be expecting me back for supper soon!”

“Yes, I suppose I should be getting back to town too.”

“Do you know how to get back to town?” Andi asks. “If you head straight south from here you’ll hit a road. Just follow that east and you’ll ride straight into Fresno.”

“Oh thanks! I wasn’t exactly following a map when I stumbled upon this place.” I giggle. It feels funny to be smiling so much all of a sudden. But it feels pretty good too.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Andi questions, while climbing easily onto Taffy’s bare back.

“I think so.” I say, putting my foot into the stirrup and hefting myself into the saddle. “Why?”

“Well I figured I might ride out to Fresno, just to see what’s new… And while I’m at it I might stop by the dry goods store and see if anyone there fancies a ride…” She shrugs carelessly, but I can see the grin she’s trying to suppress.

I smile again. “Sounds like a good plan!”

“Right then, see you tomorrow!” She waves and then turns to go.

“See you tomorrow!” I echo.

“Goodbye!” She throws one last beaming smile over her shoulder, and then urges Taffy into a gallop. I watch her ride until she is out of sight, and then pick up my reins.

“Come on Fire, let’s go!” Within seconds we are hurtling faster and faster straight south. I laugh with joy, but the wind that whistles in my face whisks the sound away quickly.

 Our speed is exhilarating, but more so are the strange new feelings that bubble up inside, feelings that I haven’t felt in quite a long time – the feelings of thankfulness and joy.

 I give a whoop of delight and urge Fire to go faster. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

~

So, what do you think? I’d love to hear any thoughts you have on the story! 🙂 

 

He Found Favour in Her – The Telling

Hello! I’m excited to be posting the second part of my Christmas story He Found Favour in Her today! I hope you all enjoy it! 🙂 Click here to read Part 1: The Message

~

The Telling

How do I make them understand? Mary stood in front of her parents, eyes downcast, hands tightly clasped.

“You’re saying that an angel came to you, and told you that you would have a child?” Mary’s mother disbelievingly questioned her.

“Yes. It is the truth”

“Enough!” Mary’s father stepped over to where his daughter was standing, and took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look up into his angry face. “Who is the father? A soldier? Who?!” His voice trailed away as he looked deep into his daughter’s dark eyes. “Stop lying and tell me the truth…. Now!”

“I have told you how it happened. That is the truth.” Mary’s calm voice betrayed none of the fears that clenched so tightly in her stomach. She had never seen her father this angry.

“Oh, I have had enough with this girl!” Her father angrily turned away, the tautness of his back clearly displaying his disappointment and anger. The room was silent for a stiff minute.

Then her Mother’s teary voice cut through the tension. “Mary, you know that- that you could be killed because of this?!”

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you tell us the truth? Your stories are childish, you are a woman now!” her mother wailed.

“I have told you the truth. It is not a story.” Mary answered. Oh, how I wish this was over!

“And how are we going to tell Joseph?!” Her father turned toward her again. “He is an upstanding and righteous man. How could you do this to him? You know he could lawfully have you stoned for being unfaithful?!”

“You may tell him. I want to go to visit Cousin Elizabeth for a month or so. If I may…”

“What?!” Her parents turned away together, and a hasty, whispered conversation ensued. Then they slowly turned back, their pain etched deeply on their worn faces. Her Mother replied “It may be for the best. You may go.”

“Thank you.” As Mary turned towards the door, she faced her parents one more time. “Everything I have told you is true.”

Her parents just stared at her sadly. She ducked her head and slipped outside.

Lord God, I’m trying to do the right thing, but it’s so hard! Why did you pick me? How do I help them understand? And what about Joseph?

~

See you right back here tomorrow for part 3!

Short Story – Praying for Rain

Welcome back! Today I’m sharing part 2 of the story I began to share last week.

And I also promised a reveal of the title because I couldn’t think of one last week . So, without further ado, let me introduce ‘Praying for Rain’ (part 2)! The title is short and simple, and, I think, suitably captures what this is story about. I hope you enjoy the conclusion! 🙂

~

Another week passes, then another. The horizon remains empty, and the house grows quieter. Everything takes on a dreamlike quality, as if we are moving through a sea of molasses. It takes ten times as long to do my chores. It’s just too hot.

The sky stretches above the fields, tight and blue.

The sun mocks us.

Dust covers everything.

I walk with Papa to the fields. Everything is the same. The plants droop, the ground beneath is cracked.

The corn is dying.

Papa caresses a leaf as he always does, tender in his devotion to his crops. But this time, the leaf doesn’t whisper in his palm. It gives a small broken crackle, and falls apart. Papa stares at the leaf in his hand. I watch, heart aching. Then slowly, he balls his fist around the leave, squeezing until his knuckles turn white. When he opens his hand, dust falls like rain to the dry ground at his feet.

He turns and walks away.

I am left alone, surrounded by acres of corn that has given up hope. My heart aches fiercely behind my faded calico apron. It beats until I feel as if it will choke me. My throat tightens, and tears well over.

“Why?” I whisper. I turn in an aimless circle, trying to comprehend the loss of hope as the cornfields blur in a haze of hot tears.

“Why?” I say it louder, as the tears fall faster.

“God, don’t you hear me?” I shake my fist at the unrelenting sky.

“We need rain. Can’t you see? Just look!” I gesture angrily at the fields around me.

“We need rain.” I cry harder, tears rolling down my cheeks. They create shining tracks on the film of dust that covers me.

“God! If you are there, if you can hear me, then answer me!” I scream up at the sky.

“Send us rain!”

Then I collapse in a dusty heap on the parched earth, my tears soaking into the ground as soon as they roll off my face.

~

Tomorrow arrives, then tomorrow, and another tomorrow. I am numb with despair.

Every morning I stay in bed until I am forced to get up by Mama’s call. I don’t look at the sky. I know what it holds, or rather, what it doesn’t hold.

Every night, I crawl into bed. I don’t pray. Instead I let the tears roll silently down into my ears until I fall into a restless sleep.

I dream of an angry God, holding back rain as a punishment on poor farmers.

I dream of the sky taunting us with the hope of thunder and lightning, but holding back the promise of rain.

And then worst of all, I dream of rain. Sweet, cool refreshing rain that soaks into the ground and brings life and hope once again.

But then I wake up and realize it was just a dream and that I am living in a nightmare.

Hope died with the dust that fell from Papa’s hand that morning.

The rain will never come.

~

I lie in bed, after living through a day that was the same as yesterday. I wonder briefly if tomorrow might break the pattern of dusty monotony, then decide that no, it will not. Tomorrow will be the same as today – hopeless and rainless.

I can hear the low murmur of Papa and Mama talking in the other room. They thought I hadn’t heard them talking earlier, but I had. They were murmuring about giving up the farm, of going to the East to live with Mama’s sister. Whispers that signalled the final end of everything we’d ever hoped, dreamed and lived for.

Tears come much easier now than they used to, and so I lie there, stifling in the darkness, stifling my sobs. Sleep eventually comes, long after their murmurs have stopped and the harvest moon has risen. I am restless, drifting in and out of nightmares that are too close to reality.

Then a noise cuts through my shadowy dreams, jerking me awake. I lie there, panting softly in the heat, straining my eyes in the darkness.

The noise comes again, a strange intermittent tapping that seems to be coming from the roof above me. The tapping grows in intensity and loudness, as if someone is throwing stones randomly from the sky. I cast about in my sleep-fogged brain, trying to identify the noise. It seems vaguely familiar, as if I had dreamt about it long ago.

Then the truth hits me with the force of a train. I leap out of bed, tripping over my discarded clothes in the darkness, crashing into the door. I tear it open, heedless of my elbows or the clothes or the hinges.

“Papa, Mama!” I scream.

Dashing through the kitchen, I pull open the front door.

It is as if heaven stands before me.

The smell of life comes flooding into the house, dispelling the smell of the dust that has filled our nostrils for so long. I look out through tear filled eyes at the rain that thuds onto the ground.

Somehow I find myself in the front yard, screaming for joy. My face is turned up to the sky that drops its long awaited gift upon the earth. I run and jump and skip, my heart singing for joy.

I turn and see Papa dancing with Mama in the puddles of water that have quickly accumulated on the ground. I can’t tell if they’re crying or laughing – I don’t know myself whether I’m crying or laughing. Rain pelts my head and runs heavy down my face, washing away the dust of despair.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cry over and over again, laughter bubbling up between sobs.

I run to Papa and Mama. I can see the joy dripping from their drenched clothes, feel it radiating from their gleaming smiles. Papa’s eyes flash with light, Mama stands straight and strong.

We join hands and dance together, as the rain pours from the sky.

 

black and-white, clear, cool