Darcie's Fan-Fiction

Episode 13: Phoenix

Author's Notes:

"Maria Bennett" and all original material included in this story are the creations of Darcie Daniels.

I dedicate this story to Debbie. She is a tireless cheerleader, the best of friends, and truly one of the best persons I've ever met. I love you, sweetie!

"A mythical bird that never dies, the phoenix flies far ahead to the front, always scanning the landscape and distant space. It represents our capacity for vision, for collecting sensory information about our environment and the events unfolding within it. The phoenix, with its great beauty, creates intense excitement and deathless inspiration." The Feng Shui Handbook, feng shui Master Lam Kam Chuen

"I shall die in my nest, and shall multiply my days like the Phoenix " Job 29:18

Early Aug. 1881

Maria could not recall a time when she missed Maine more than now. She recalled the vastness of the ocean, and how a swim could cool a hot summer's day. Here in Curtis Wells, Montana, there was nothing. The pond was dry, and she could not even wade in the nearby creeks. Now, there was nothing there but muddy pools. Soon even that would not remain. The heat baked everything into an ugly brown color. The grasses, trees, and earth were dry and hard. The heat sapped their vitality, and it made every living creature in Curtis Wells miserable.

Even the air was dry and hot, Maria noted. Dr. Cleese ran out of salve for chapped lips, and Mr. Lau's bath oils sold out in July.

There was nothing to relieve the heat, not even a cool breeze. The wind blew hot, too. Sometimes unpleasant scents drifted through town. Maria wondered if the smell might be due to the water shortage. Mr. Lau could not run the baths or laundry as he used to with his allowance of water.

Indeed, business seemed poor for nearly everyone, except Mr. Mosby's Ambrosia Club. Although Miss Twyla's scantily clad ladies wore little too the imagination now, they could only attract callers in the early morning or late at night.

Maria had always enjoyed her early morning solitude, but now too many people roamed the street during that time of day. Everyone, including herself, remained indoors during the heat of the afternoon. It was equally as hot, but the sun could not burn the skin.

It was truly awful, Maria concluded. Bread baking in an oven must have felt like this.

For the hundredth time, Maria fanned herself that morning. It was going to be another hot one. She wished that it was proper to wear short sleeves. She wished that she could wear those low cut blouses like Miss Carpenter's. Miss Carpenter must have enjoyed the breeze those blouses allowed into her bosom. Maria looked down at her own fronts, wondering what kind of corset Miss Carpenter had to wear to keep herself so lofty. Frowning, Maria supposed she would have to stick with her own attire. Miss Carpenter probably sacrificed one comfort for another. Besides, it would never do for Maria to be gawked at in the manner Miss Carpenter often was by most men.

As it was, Maria wore a blouse, a skirt, a thin petticoat, and her undergarments. All the men, including Mr. Mosby, wore a shirt and trousers. Mr. Mosby also wore a vest, so he still looked distinguished. Mr. Call wore his white shirt, trousers, and chaps. Sweat stained his shirt, as it did nearly everyone in town, including herself, Maria noted unhappily. It was miserable being this hot.

The heat also made tempers flare. No one had patience for anything. Thank goodness that Mr. Call was in his usual good mood, Maria thought. He always made for a pleasant conversation.

"What do you think of President Garfield?" Maria asked him as he settled down on his bench. She fanned herself with her book.

"He's been shot's what I think," he replied tersely. He made himself more comfortable. "Now go away."

Maria ignored that last remark, but continued her discourse about the wounded president. "I know that, silly. Am asking you if you think he will recover."

"How should I know? I'm not a doctor. Leave me be."

"Surely you care about the health of the president of the United States."

"Well, I don't want him to die. But it's not in my hands. Just hope for the best, is all."

Maria frowned. "Dr. Cleese hopes that they are using the new antiseptic techniques on the president. I almost wish that Dr. Cleese was there to take care of him, although he is such a good doctor that I would hate to see him leave."

Mr. Call yawned and placed his hat over his face.

Nonplused, Maria continued, "Dr. Cleese says that Alexander Graham Bell is trying to find the bullet with some sort of electronic device. I've read that Mr. Bell has invented some 'electrical speech machine' based from his research on telegraphs. Just think of it, Newton. It's possible that I could talk to you from the other side of town without either of us leaving our positions. I could talk to you anywhere at anytime. Why, I think it's the grandest thing ever conceived. I could talk to you for hours, even with you out in the wilderness and me here in Curtis Wells. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Mr. Call grunted in his hat. "Then I'd never get any peace. Now leave me be."

Maria laughed at him. He was thoroughly entertaining when he was irritated. "I can imagine you. You would be quite vocal over a speech device."

Mr. Call removed his hat. "Don't you have somebody else to irritate? You need a friend." He replaced his hat and settled down for a snooze.

Maria's jaw dropped. She knew that she irritated him at times, but her blood brother had no call to be so rude.

"You are my friend, Newton."

"No, I'm not. Ain't got a choice."

Maria regarded him. She knew that he only pretended to be asleep under that hat, just as he only pretended the words he muttered just now.

"You'd miss me if I wasn't around," Maria argued.

"You ain't given me a chance."

Maria frowned at him. The heat was making him this ornery.

"I have plenty of friends," she protested.

"Name 'em."

"Well, there's Unbob," she began, and then stopped. She could list many people she talked to during the day, but there was no one that she felt she could confide her heart to like her blood brother. She felt that at one time she could tell Mr. Mosby her feelings, but circumstances ruined that. She missed his friendship.

"I'm not talking to Austin," Maria continued, bitterness edging into her voice. She had not talked to him ever since he destroyed her dinner with Mr. Shelby a couple months ago. She was still very angry with her cousin.

"I like Mr. Shelby," Maria admitted, a blush coming to her face. Mr. Shelby was very nice to her. Indeed, the Southern gentleman was quite handsome. In her opinion, the man was very pleasant.

Mr. Call removed his hat and regarded her. "Humph," he concluded. "You turn to mush just talking about him."

"I do not!"

"Best be having a talk with him."

Maria's mouth dropped in alarm. "You wouldn't! Oh, please, Newton! Austin humiliated me once. Please don't embarrass me."

"Gotta figure out what he's upto. What does he do around here, anyways? My best guess is that he's Mosby's head lady."

Maria resented his implication. "He is sometimes in charge of Mr. Mosby's men, yes, but that doesn't make him a criminal. The most you are accusing him of is being Mr. Mosby's friend."

Mr. Call shrugged. "That's almost one and the same."

Maria nodded. She understood that Mr. Mosby kissed Hannah at one time, and Mr. Call highly resented the town proprietor ever since. "Newton, that's highly small-minded of you. Mr. Shelby has not caused you any harm."

"Shelby was an outlaw, Maria."

"Yes, 'was' is the proper term. Don't you believe a man can reform?"

"Not likely."

"Don't you know a single person over the years who has made themselves a better person? You don't know one person that has made a better life?"

Mr. Call considered it briefly.

"People usually change for the worse."

Maria regarded him, wondering if the bounty hunter was really talking about himself. She wondered what Mr. Call was like when Hannah was alive. He could not have been that different. Her blood brother may have altered his lifestyle dramatically, but in the essentials, he must have remained the same.

"Newton, underneath all that orneriness and dirt, you have a good heart. Nothing has changed that. I'd stop pretending, if I was you."

His blue eyes flashed in momentary pain, and then he regained his control. He stood up angrily.

"You know nothing of it," he muttered and stalked off.

Maria stomped her foot as she watched him leave. He was wrong. She knew about it all too well.

The more Maria thought about it, the more she knew that Mr. Call was right. She had no real friends. She did not seem to relate to the other women in town. Miss Twyla' s ladies regarded her with suspicion, and the church auxiliary ladies considered Maria to be odd. Maria and Miss Carpenter had little to do with each other, even though Maria lived in the Lonesome Dove Hotel. Maria did not mind the hotelkeeper so much now that the woman was no longer seeing Austin. She had once thought that Miss Carpenter was a bad influence upon her cousin, but now Maria knew that Austin had little trouble getting into his own scrapes without the hotelkeeper's help. Maria wished heartily that Miss Shaw had remained in town. Miss Shaw seemed to be a woman in which she could confide her troubles. If only Miss Shaw did not live in Miles City... if only Miss Shaw would return to Curtis Wells ... then she could have a bosom friend and someone to match Mr. Call with. It was a brilliant solution.

Maria sighed. It was too hot to contrive some reason to drag Mr. Call to Miles City. Perhaps she should focus on the few friends she had in Curtis Wells.

She thought about Unbob, but of course, Unbob was everyone's friend. The gentle man always seemed too busy burying people. He always had blood on his apron. That was a little disheartening.

She thought about Dr. Cleese. He always gave you an intelligent conversation. But at most times, Maria did not want to hear about pus and infection and forensic mysteries. Still, Dr. Cleese was nice.

Maria knew that Mr. Root was a good man, but Maria always found him annoying. He delighted in irritating her, and he did so whenever he was in town. That man needed to be matched, Maria thought. Perhaps when he was in town next, she could think about it ...

Her thoughts turned to Austin, and then she frowned. She decided she would not think about her rat of a cousin.

The she thought about Mr. Mosby and sighed. Once they were good friends, but now they were distant. She used to have a crush on him, but she was over that now. To complicate matters, Mr. Mosby had little time to talk to her ever since the development of the railroad and Miss Florie's pregnancy. Maria knew that she would always be fond of him, though. Mr. Mosby was a good man.

When Maria's thoughts turned to Mr. Shelby, she felt a blush warm her face. Then she frowned. Perhaps her blood brother was right about that, too. She did turn to mush when Mr. Shelby was around. But Mr. Shelby was so kind to her. He actually smiled at her, unlike the other men in her life. Mr. Call, bless him, was surly. Austin was mean, and her uncle Josiah ... well... Josiah was not all together there. Mr. Shelby was very pleasant. But Mr. Call was right. She did blush too much when Mr. Shelby was around. Maybe she ought not to do that. It was too hot to blush, anyway.

Perhaps she ought to focus her energies elsewhere. She wished she could have a better relationship with her uncle Josiah. But Josiah was so distant, and besides, he resented Maria's presence. Apparently, Josiah held a grudge against her mother. Although Maria felt she looked nothing like her mother, Josiah only saw his sister in Maria's face. Josiah would never tell her why he hated her mother Lily. He was very frustrating.

Maria knew that she ought to visit her uncle more since she left the newspaper office, but it was easier not to do so. She never felt good about seeing her uncle. Her uncle Josiah was tolerable at best. Maria truly wondered whether she liked him at times. Maria sighed. He was family. He needed to be tended to just like the rest.

With a sinking feeling, Maria decided that her uncle Josiah was whom she should focus upon. Maybe one day they could even like each other.

"Get out!" her uncle commanded as he shrugged off her arm.

"But Uncle Josiah..." Maria hesitated as her uncle waved her out of the newspaper office. She could not leave her uncle like this. It was the middle of the day, and already he was drunk. It made Maria sick.

The office itself was in a shambles. Even with the windows blinded Maria could see a layer of dust on everything in sight. Although it had only been a few months since Maria had left the newspaper office, it had not taken long for it to get filthy.

It smelled as filthy as it looked. The heat made it even worse.

"Leave me alone," Josiah grumbled again, staring at a burning oil lamp. Its amber glow only enhanced the glazed look in his eyes and the sickly appearance of his skin. Her uncle had to have been drinking for the last few days. Maria was sure of it.

"Where's Austin?" Maria inquired in disgust. Surely her cousin would not leave his father in a state like this.

This was all her fault. She should have checked on her uncle more often.

"I don't care," Josiah growled. His eyes focused on the picture next to the lamp. "Where's Hannah?" he asked in a child-like voice. Then he squinted at Maria in recognition. "Lily, is that you? Find Sarah for me."

"I'm not Lily," Maria told him gently as she kneeled to regard him. "Mother is no longer with us. Aunt Sarah died years ago. Hannah is not here, either."

"Who are you?" Josiah demanded angrily, pounding his fist on the table. "Get Newt!"

Maria sighed, looking down to the ground. Her uncle was inconsolable. She never knew what to do to help him when he was like this. Perhaps it was best she should find her blood brother. Mr. Call might be able to help him. Perhaps that was where her cousin Austin was right now ... trying to find Mr. Call. Maria wished it more than believed it.

"Get Newt!" Josiah demanded again. His blue eyes widened as a bead of sweat developed on his brow. His body tensed.

"Easy," Maria soothed. "I'll get him for you."

"Get Newt!" he repeated inconsolably.

Maria's hand touched her uncle's shoulder, trying to comfort him. His body jerked violently, accidentally knocking over the oil lamp.

She could only stare as it lit some nearby paper into flames.

Fire ... fire ... she hated fire. She could smell the smoke. She could smell the burning of hair. She could smell the burning of flesh. She could hear her own screams and the screams of her parents and little brother. All burning ... all dying. Fire consumed everything like hate and pain.

Then she could hear her uncle coughing and rummaging about for something.

"Hannah!" he shouted, searching for her photograph.

Maria could see that only the little table was on fire, but it terrified her. Maria knew how much worse the fire could really get.

"We can't stay here!" Maria tried to grab her uncle. The newspaper office was not worth it. They had to leave. The smoke was burning her lungs.

"Get Hannah!" she heard her uncle shout through the smoke.

"What the hell?" Maria heard Austin's voice shout. His silhouette stood in the doorway.

He moved quickly, kicking the burning table out onto the street. He stomped at it, putting out the flames.

Maria did not remember how she ended out in the street. She stared at her cousin. Austin had not shaved or changed shirts in some time. He only regarded her in disgust.

Her uncle Josiah was not there. He was probably still in the newspaper office. Maria turned to find him.

"The whole office could have burned down, thanks to you," Austin stopped her. "You could have thrown a blanket over it or something. But you just stood there. You could have gotten yourselves both killed."

By that time, a crowd gathered to view the spectacle.

Maria's mouth tightened, not knowing what to say. Again, she moved to go inside the office.

"I told you to stay away from my father, and now look what you've done," Austin accused her, pointing down to the burnt table.

The crowd murmured. The town gossips among them drew special delight.

Maria wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She had to find her uncle.

"What's going on here?" she heard Mr. Mosby's voice suddenly demand. The town proprietor soon made his way up front.

At that moment, Josiah appeared at the newspaper office doorway. He clutched two portraits to his chest -- Hannah's lovely, smiling face and the other Maria recognized as her aunt Sarah. Her poor uncle's face was hollow from the fright.

Mr. Mosby took one look at Josiah and the burnt table in the street and nodded quickly in discernment.

"Everyone, go about your business. There's nothing left to see here," he told the crowd. He glanced at his men, who positioned themselves to herd the crowd if need be.

Thankfully, they dispersed, leaving Mr. Mosby alone with the Peale family.

"What happened here?" Mr. Mosby addressed both Austin and his cousin. Josiah remained in the doorway. He shuffled around, staring pathetically at the two portraits.

Maria did not respond as she looked at the burnt table in the street.

"What does it matter, Mosby?" Austin replied. "It's been taken care of. Nobody got hurt."

"Your father could have burnt down the entire town," Mr. Mosby accused him. "You're supposed to be looking after him, but no doubt you've been on a bender or two of your own. But Josiah ... there's getting to be more and more displays of public drunkenness and ravings from your father... If you don't get better control of him...."

"You'll what?"

"The town, especially at this time, cannot afford such a man as mayor. If Josiah doesn't improve, and I mean rapidly, I'll have no choice but to appoint Dr. Cleese as acting mayor."

Austin and Maria regarded each other in alarm. "It'll kill him if you take that away from him," Austin protested, his voice almost a whisper. "It's the only thing he's living for."

Mr. Mosby glanced over at Josiah in pity but tightened his jaw in determination. "It can't be helped. The town --"

"Damn you, Mosby," Austin swore. "It's always been tough this time of year for him. Mother died, and Father still grieves for her. But you wouldn't understand that, would you, Mosby? You're nothing but a cold, heartless bastard. All you give a damn about is your precious railroad."

Mr. Mosby's tiger-like eyes narrowed dangerously. It looked to Maria that he could kill Austin with one swipe of his hand.

Maria stepped between them.

"Austin, stop," she hissed. Austin apparently had no idea that Mr. Mosby still grieved over his late wife or her cousin would not venture anything so stupid.

"Stay out of this, Maria. All of this was your fault anyway. If you'd stayed away from Father like I told you -"

Mr. Mosby had no patience for family squabbles. "No, Austin. You were the one not there, as usual. You either get control of your father quickly, or he'll no longer be mayor of Curtis Wells. Am I making myself clear?"

"You bastard," Austin spat. Then he regarded Mr. Mosby hatefully and stalked over to Josiah in the doorway. He grabbed his father, who protested in a drunken fashion, and dragged Josiah towards the bathhouse.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mosby," Maria said, looking at the burnt table in the street. Maria knew that she should have done something to prevent this mess.

"Josiah can't do this anymore," Mr. Mosby explained gently. "Something has to be done."

"Please don't take the title away from him," Maria begged. "Austin is right. I don't know what it will do to my uncle."

Mr. Mosby sighed. "Surely you see my position here. With the new railroad, it means new and illustrious people to our town. The town can no longer be represented by a mad man."

Maria did understand, but that did not mean she had to like it.

"Give us a little more time, I beg you. Uncle Josiah usually pulls out of these episodes. He's just grieving over the death of my aunt Sarah, that's all. Surely you understand that."

Mr. Mosby's haunted eyes flashed momentarily. Then Mr. Mosby cleared his throat. "A man in his position has to put aside his grief. When I appointed him mayor years ago, I thought perhaps it might help him out of his madness. But now I can't see that it's done him any good. Maria, don't you see I have no choice?"

"It's all he has," Maria whispered.

Mr. Mosby frowned and then sighed. "You and your cousin have until the tracks are completed. If Josiah is not presentable by then, well ..."

Maria frowned. It was only three weeks.

Mr. Mosby gave her a small, encouraging smile and then tipped his hat and left.

Maria stared into the newspaper office. She wished people could be cleaned up as well as rooms.

She rolled up her sleeves and stepped inside. It was as good of place to start as any.

"Burn these, will you?" Maria told Austin as she handed him a basket full of soiled sheets. Maria figured that if she could not identify what was on the laundry then she did not need to touch it. One good thing about having money was that it could afford new sheets.

"I'm not doing anything. Clean it or give it to Lau."

Maria stomped her foot. Austin had been contrary to everything she suggested that afternoon, and now she was getting downright irritated. She only agreed to talk to him now because Josiah needed them both so much. Austin had no right to be so contrary. Also, he had not lifted a finger to help her all day. She was hot and exhausted. It was twilight now, and there was still much to clean.

One good thing Austin did accomplish, however, was to get Josiah cleaned and shaved. It was too bad he could not have done the same thing for himself. How Austin managed to put Josiah to bed, she did not know.

"Burn it, or I'll make your bed with it, I swear, Austin."

Austin harrumphed. "You burn it then."

Maria stared icily at him. Austin knew how much she hated fires. He once suggested that he wished that she had perished in the fire that took her parents' and brother's life. Austin was spiteful and mean.

"Get Call to do it then," Austin shrugged when he saw the expression on her face.

"I don't know where he is." Since that morning, Maria had not seen her blood brother.

"He's never where he should be."

Maria could see the bitterness in her cousin's dark eyes. His jaw twitched in resentment.

Maria did not say a word. The less she talked to her cousin, the better.

"Oh, and another thing. I don't want you back here. You take your things back to the Dove."

Maria clenched her fists. That was the last straw. "I'm not going anywhere," she snapped. "I've cleaned this place from top to bottom, and I'm not going to let you or him mess it up again. Take those sheets out now, Austin, or I swear, I'll take this broom to you right now. I don't care which end of the broom you get, either."

Maria expected Austin's temper to flare, but to her surprise, he tried to hide a smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, picking up the basket.

Maria could not believe it as he walked out the back door. Soon she could smell the sheets burning. She always hated the smell of smoke. It made her nauseous.

She was in the middle of straightening some papers when Austin returned with the empty basket. Maria's hands trembled. Austin only looked at her.

Maria tried to steady her hands. She could not let Austin use it as another means to ridicule her.

"I was drunk, you know," he said quietly.

Maria grabbed a heavy pitcher and rubbed it furiously with a cloth. She did not reply.

"At the Dove," he continued. "When you were with Shelby. I was drunk."

Maria scrutinized him. What was he trying to say? Was he trying to apologize?

"I said some things ..." his voice trailed off.

Maria bit her lip. Every mean and spiteful thing that Austin said that night still echoed in her mind. She could not forget the hate in his eyes that night nor the hurt she still felt. She did not want to forgive him. She did not want to be hurt again.

But still, Josiah needed both of them. Maria needed Austin if Josiah had any chance of succeeding. She could not do it alone.

Austin could not do it alone, either. Perhaps her cousin sensed that and was only trying to appease her for only a short time. Maria did not trust him not to hurt her again. She would harden herself to him while they worked together. After Josiah was all right, then they would go about their separate ways.

"I'm hungry, Austin," she said.

"I'll take you to the Dove," he offered.

"What if Josiah wakes up? One of us has to stay here."

Austin looked to the back rooms. He frowned. "You stay here. I'll get you something."

He quietly shut the door behind him.

Maria understood all too well that his kindness was only temporary.

"Stop it. I don't want your help," Josiah grumbled as Maria tried to help him straighten his tie. "If I wanted help, I'd ask for it."

Maria wished that Austin was there. Between them both, they could handle Josiah. As it was, Josiah was irritable when she was alone with him.

"Why are you angry with my mother?" Maria asked, hoping perhaps that today would be the day that her uncle would tell her.

"I don't want to talk about it," Josiah snapped. "And you leave me alone when I go outside, too. I don't need you following me around like a mother hen."

Maria thought that he was a grump when he was sober, but at least he was lucid.

"We're only trying to protect you, Uncle Josiah."

"From who?" Josiah asked incredulously, then he considered it thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, from the hounds of hell. Or maybe you want to save me from the fiery abyss. It's too late. Look around you." Josiah fanned himself hopelessly with an old newspaper.

Maria frowned. If he rattled on like that in front of Mr. Mosby, then Mr. Mosby would never let him maintain his title. "You mustn't say things like that," Maria told him.

"You've no right to tell me what to do," Josiah snapped. "I call things as I see them. If I see a duck, I'll call it a duck. This town is hell, and you know it. We best call Curtis Wells by its proper name if we are going to call it anything."

"This place isn't that bad," Maria argued.

"Oh yeah? The pond is dried up, the creeks are mere slivers, and it won't be long before the well will go dry. We'll all be like Tantulus, parched for thirst. Thank goodness for Mosby," Josiah commented wryly. "Surely he'll have some 'liquid refreshments' stocked up in case of that emergency."

Maria did not want to hear anything more about alcohol. She threw away enough whiskey bottles in the last week. Still, the more she searched, the more she found. Josiah seemed to have limitless reserves.

Her cousin Austin did not seem to help on that regard. Each night after Josiah settled down, Austin would drink and whore at the Number Ten until the morning. If her uncle Josiah had looked bad before this, Austin looked even worse. When Maria looked into the mirror, she knew that she had looked better, too. Her skin was pale, and dark circles were etched beneath her eyes. She had trouble sleeping ever since she moved back into the newspaper office. Her nightmares were back again.

How she missed her Aunt Elinor.

"Well, Newt's got the right idea," Josiah sighed. "At least he's out doing something instead of being holed up in town."

Maria frowned at that. Her blood brother could have picked a better time than now to go out on a bounty.

Ornery though he was, she missed him, too.

"I'll go outside with you," Maria offered. She also was tired being cooped up inside of the newspaper office.

"I'm fine by myself," Josiah argued, heading for the door.

Maria stopped him. If he went to the Ambrosia Club, then he would be babbling nonsense in no time.

"No, I'll go with you, Uncle Josiah. I want some fresh air." Her uncle Josiah would not dare to take her to the Ambrosia Club if she was with him.

"Maria, I don't want you to go with me."

Maria's mouth tightened. He was unlikely to dodge her. She was much younger than him.

Then they heard a knock on the back door.

Maria sighed. Austin probably forgot his key again.

"I'll get it," Josiah muttered.

Maria watched him leave the room, glad that Austin was here at last. If Josiah wanted to go outside, then Austin would accompany him, and she would be left alone. Maria would be glad for the solitude.

She heard voices at the door. Josiah was talking with someone, but it was not her cousin. She moaned. The other voice was distinctly Southern.

Not Mr. Mosby, Maria prayed as she rushed to the back rooms. Oh please, not Mr. Mosby.

"What do you want?" she heard her uncle ask gruffly.

"To see your niece," she heard Mr. Shelby reply.

Maria thought that she had never heard a more beautiful voice in all her life. Unfortunately, she could not see Mr. Shelby. Her uncle Josiah blocked the doorway.

"What do you mean by knocking on this door?" Josiah questioned protectively. "You could have used the front."

"This is a personal matter, Mr. Peale, not a business one."

Josiah harrumphed momentarily, standing aside. "I'm sure you won't mind if I sit in with you, then. Any business of my niece's is my concern. Surely you can understand that."

Mr. Shelby seemed to consider it for a moment. "Naturally."

Mr. Shelby stepped inside their parlor with his hat in hand. Maria was glad that the room was clean. It had taken rivers of her sweat to do it.

She smiled at Mr. Shelby, unsure of what to say. He looked at her briefly in concern and smiled reassuringly at her. She motioned for him to sit.

When they were seated comfortably, Josiah cleared his throat. "So what business do you have with my niece?" Josiah questioned gruffly.

"I haven't talked with her for awhile, and I wanted to know how she was doing."

Josiah considered it for a moment. "Well, she's doing fine. You can see that for yourself. What more do you want to know?"

Maria had never seen her uncle act like this before. It was almost as if he was trying to protect her out of fatherly concern. It was quite shocking.

"If you'll forgive me, Mr. Peale, I'd rather hear from your niece's own lips about her health, if you don't mind." Mr. Shelby addressed her directly. "How are you, Miss Bennett?"

Maria continued to stare at her uncle. Josiah was certainly odd.

"I'm fine," Maria answered absentmindedly. She stood up, still regarding her uncle. "Would you like a drink, Mr. Shelby? Some cookies, perhaps?" Maria had an old recipe of her aunt Sarah's that was particularly good.

"No, don't trouble yourself."

Maria sat down. Perhaps it was not best to leave Mr. Shelby alone with Josiah anyway.

"Well? What else do you want to talk to her about?" Josiah demanded gruffly. We're all ears here."

Mr. Shelby gave him a disgusted look. Then he regarded Maria. "I've been missing your company for quite some time now. I was hoping that you would accompany to dinner sometime soon."

Maria was infinitely pleased. Then she frowned. She could not be leaving her uncle alone so she could enjoy a pleasurable dinner with Mr. Shelby. Goodness knows that she preferred the handsome Southerner's company. She blushed and then frowned again. Then she remembered that it was too hot to blush.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Josiah sighed, shaking his head.

"And why not?" Mr. Shelby returned defensively.

"Because, Mr. Shelby," Josiah replied authoritatively, "we know little about you. All we know is that you're a friend of Mosby's. I, for one, would like to know what you've been doing for the past two years. The last that we heard about you was that you had robbed a stage in '78. I hope that you have not been chasing those idle pursuits all that time, Mr. Shelby. I don't want my niece to interact with an outlaw."

Maria could not believe her uncle's behavior. She had never seen him behave this protectively. Still, Josiah could not treat Mr. Shelby in this way. It was very rude.

"Uncle Josiah," Maria protested.

Josiah waved her away with his hand. "I want to hear what the man has to say."

Mr. Shelby regarded him for a moment. Then he smiled. "All right, Mr. Peale. I admit that in my past that I've done things that are ... well ... I suppose that society would frown upon. But I have never committed murder. After I left here, I had bounties on my head. I had to hide in all sorts of places. Those places were not pretty, Mr. Peale, and I will not mention them in Miss Bennett's presence. But believe me when I tell you this, I feel like I've been on the run my whole entire life. I'm tired of running. That's why I'm here. I want something new."

Josiah's face grimaced in momentary pain. "You think you can find it here in Curtis Wells?"

"Yes, sir. It's a start."

Josiah stood up and walked over to the mantle, gently picking up Hannah's picture. His fingers traced her smile. He whispered, "That's what I thought, too." His eyes closed tightly to ward off his tears.

Maria stood, eager to reach out to her uncle, yet knowing that there was little she could do. She knew that he would pull away from her if she tried to touch him. She looked to Mr. Shelby. Perhaps he knew what could be done.

She could not understand the expression on Mr. Shelby's face. He, too, stared at the picture in Josiah's hands. The Southerner looked shocked. He quickly shook his head to free himself of the emotion.

Maria grew angry. Was he besotted with Hannah, too, like everyone else in town?

"Did you know Hannah, Mr. Shelby?" Maria demanded.

Josiah, unhearing, grieved over the portrait of his lovely daughter.

"No," Mr. Shelby denied, his voice full of emotion. "I just wasn't expecting ..."

"Did you think she was pretty, Mr. Shelby?" Maria demanded again. "She's beautiful in that portrait, isn't she? Isn't she?"

Her anger seemed to wake him from whatever shocked state that he was in. "I didn't know your cousin, Miss Bennett, and yes, she is lovely in that picture. That's not why I came here, Miss Bennett. Believe me."

Maria looked from his defensive posture back to her uncle's grieving form. She had done it again. She was jealous of a dead woman. Would Hannah ever quit haunting all of them?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Shelby," she whispered, shaking her head. All of this was hopeless.

"Tell me. Will you have dinner with me or not?"

Maria really wanted to have dinner with him, but she knew it was impossible for her to get away. Josiah needed her too much, and Austin would never consent to sit with his father so she could have dinner with his hated enemy. She felt that something inside of her was going to explode.

"I really want to ..." Maria began.

Mr. Shelby sighed. He took her hand. "Listen. Forget dinner. If you get a chance to break away here, feel free to come to me. I know what it is like watch someone you love give up the very act of living. If you need my help or someone to talk to ... I'll be there."

She gripped his hand tightly. That had to be one of the kindest things anyone had ever offered her. Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you," she nodded. Then she bit her lip. "You're my friend, aren't you, Mr. Shelby?"

He smiled warmly at her. "Of course."

This time, her tears flowed freely. "Thank you," she repeated again.

He wiped away a tear with his finger and remarked, "You are worth every effort." He smiled again, this time replacing his hat. "I'd best take my leave. Remember my offer, Miss Bennett."

Maria nodded. He was most kind.

He was almost out the back door when she stopped him.

"Mr. Shelby?"

"Yes?"

Maria bit her lip, fearful to ask, "Did the person you love ever recover? Did he ever want to live again?"

Mr. Shelby considered it for a moment. "Yes, for the most part. But things are never as they used to be. That, perhaps, is the most difficult part."

He smiled at her reassuringly and then left.

Maria stared after him. He was the only glimmer of light that she had seen in a long while.

She was dreaming. She knew it, yet there was little she could do to stop it. She could not force herself to wake. It was happening to her all over again.

She clutched a doll. Mamma and Papa were inside. Jemmy was inside. She heard their screams. Flames consumed the house. It was so hot.

Then she was inside a hole. She could not move. She would not utter a sound. There were spiders and rats. She hated rats. Then Mrs. Harner lit a match. She screamed in pain.

Maria rolled violently out of her bed and landed hard on the floor. It had been this way every night since she had moved inside of the newspaper office. Every night she woke when her body met the floor. Every night her sweat-drenched nightgown clung to her body. Her room was always stifling hot. It seemed an effort trying to breathe in the air.

Maria changed her nightgown and decided to get some fresh air. She sat on the ground outside of the backdoor. No one would disturb her there.

She began to doze when someone nudged her awake. It was Austin. "Get up. Go inside," Austin told her.

Maria looked at him in disgust. He looked awful, and he reeked of whiskey and cigars.

"Where were you tonight?" Maria demanded as he helped her inside. "You know what I time I have putting your father to bed."

"I went out, okay?" Austin returned defensively. "I needed to get away for a little while, that's all."

"To the Number 10, I suppose. As if drinking and whoring about will solve all your problems, Austin. You've seen all the good whiskey has done for your father."

"Layoff, Maria. You're not my sister."

"No, thank God."

Austin shook his head in disgust. "Just leave me alone. Bug your precious 'Newton' for a change. Oh yeah," he nodded. "He's not here, is he?"

"At least he's out doing something productive," Maria argued on her blood brother's behalf.

"Murdering people's what he does," Austin snorted. "At least I'm not hurting anybody."

"You're hurting yourself and your father. Oh yes, you also hurt me. But I know that makes little difference to you, doesn't it?"

Austin shrugged, turning away from her. "Let's just get Father through this, all right?"

"Fine by me. I just want you here at a decent time. You are better at settling down Josiah than I am."

"Fine."

"Fine," Maria replied, turning away from him. She just about had enough of her cousin.

They both started when they heard a crash in the other room. They quickly looked at each other and bolted for Josiah's room. Josiah lay on the floor, clutching a picture of Sarah. They could see the slobber on his lips and smell the whiskey on his breath.

"I thought I got it all," Maria muttered about the alcohol as they knelt down to examine Josiah.

"Father, Father, are you all right?"

"Sarah... Sarah," Josiah moaned, oblivious to both Austin and Maria. "Why did you leave me?"

"Father, please," Austin begged, trying to help his father back into bed.

Josiah violently shrugged his son away from him. Maria did not dare touch her uncle.

"Father, you need to get back into bed," Austin told him, despair in his voice.

"I'm fine," Josiah growled. "Leave me alone." He clutched Sarah's picture to his chest.

Maria looked at Austin. He had no idea what to do, either.

"Where's Hannah? Get your sister."

Austin momentarily grimaced in pain. "She's dead, Father," he replied angrily. "Now stop it. Get back in bed."

Maria tried to help Austin steady his father, but Josiah reacted violently when he recognized her. "You killed her!" he shouted at her. "You killed her!"

She stepped back from him, stunned. She looked to her cousin to see if he knew what Josiah was shouting about, but Austin shook his head. Josiah grew more violent.

"Maria, just leave," Austin ordered, struggling with his father. "Get out now."

Dazed, Maria had no choice. She returned to her stifling room. No one got to sleep that night.

She sat on Mr. Call's bench. She was going to wait until he returned. If she had to wither in the heat until he returned, so be it. Maria would die of dehydration, and then he would feel guilty. He had no right to go off bounty hunting when she needed him here. When he got back, she would give him a piece of her mind.

Oh, how she wished that he would return. She missed him.

Maria decided that she would wait until Mr. Call returned or until Mr. Shelby finished conducting whatever business he had with Mr. Mosby's men. It seemed to her that the latter event would occur first. She bit her lip as she watched Mr. Shelby talk to Mr. Mosby's men at the dry goods store. As soon as Mr. Shelby was free, she would go meet him. She needed to talk to someone.

Something was brewing deep inside of her. Josiah was its cause, and Austin was of no help. Mr. Call was not here to help. Mr. Shelby was the only person that wanted to help. She had no choice. She needed Mr. Shelby.

She bit her lip when whatever his business was with the men seemed to last for an eternity. What was he doing, anyway?

"Robert's a good man," Mr. Mosby commented from inside Mr. Creel's door. He slowly walked over to a building support and lit a cigar. "I'm glad you've taken a liking to him." He waved out his match, staring after his friend.

Maria, startled, could only stammer, "I -I wanted to talk to him about something."

Mr. Mosby turned to her. After a moment, he smiled. "Yes. He's fond of you, too, I think."

Maria blushed. A few months ago, Mr. Mosby had spurned her love, and now he approved of her friendship with his best friend. Apparently, he wished her the best, yet the whole situation was rather awkward.

"He's my friend, Mr. Mosby."

"That's good, Miss Bennett. There's no better one than that man over there."

Maria followed his gaze. Mr. Shelby was still talking with the men.

She frowned. She wished that he would talk with her.

"How's your uncle, Miss Bennett?"

Instantly, Maria's defenses were heightened. Mr. Mosby could not know the truth. Josiah would no longer be mayor.

"Fine," she lied, looking down to the ground. She could not bring herself to look at Mr. Mosby. "He's doing much better."

"Of course," he replied after a moment. "And you?"

Maria looked up at him. She tried to appear cheerful and content when she felt the exact opposite. "Just fine. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm perfect."

Mr. Mosby nodded at her knowingly. "No, you only look paler than my shirt, Miss Bennett. There used to be a time when we were friends. You could confide in me once."

Maria frowned at him. She remembered those days, too. She missed Mr. Mosby's friendship with all her heart. Yet now, telling him anything would put her uncle in jeopardy. She could not do it.

She wondered if he missed her friendship, too.

"I'm still your friend, Miss Bennett. I hope you can believe that."

"I'm your friend, too."

"Are you sure you're all right, then?"

Maria looked away. "I can't say."

Mr. Mosby sighed. "Very well. I hope your uncle will be well enough to attend the opening ceremony for the depot. As mayor, I expect him to say a few words."

Maria regarded him. The town proprietor was giving her fair warning. Josiah had to be ready in one week, or else.

"Thank you, Mr. Mosby," Maria whispered. How ever could Austin and she do it? It seemed impossible.

"Miss Bennett," he voiced in concern. "Do try to get some rest, will you?"

"Yes, Mr. Mosby," she nodded, wishing she really could follow his advice.

He looked at her for a moment. "Tell Robert your troubles. He won't fail you."

With that, he took his leave. Maria watched him walk down the street. Her gaze returned back to Mr. Shelby. He was still conversing with Mr. Mosby's men.

Apparently, Mr. Shelby had never failed Mr. Mosby. They were best of friends for years. Mr. Mosby had the utmost faith in his friend, and Mr. Shelby returned his faith in loyalty.

She frowned. Perhaps she ought not tell Mr. Shelby anything. Mr. Shelby would be bound to report it back to his best friend, and in this case, the less Mr. Mosby knew, the better.

Maria cursed Mr. Call. He really ought to be here, not on some wild adventure. She had so much to tell him. She wished that he would return.

Her nightmare began the same way as before. She clutched a doll. She heard the screaming of her parents. She heard the cries of her little brother. She felt the hot flames envelope their home.

Then she was inside a hole. It was so very hot. She was trapped with the rats and the spiders. Oh, how she hated spiders. Mrs. Harner's figure loomed over her, lighting a match. She prepared to scream, but the old woman turned into the familiar face of her uncle. Josiah's blue eyes burned with cold fire. "You killed her!" he screamed at her. "You killed her!" Then he lit a match, transfiguring back into the old Mrs. Harner. The match dropped, and then more screaming. This time she heard banging amidst the screams.

When Maria's body hit the floor, she still heard the banging. There was also a ghostly moan floating into the room.

Quickly, she grabbed a shawl and raced to her uncle's bedroom. As far as she knew, the last few days Josiah had been sober. He had not said much to her, even when she questioned him about his outburst a few nights ago. He refused to tell her why he had said such a thing. Austin had no idea why he said it, either. She wished that she could confide to someone about Josiah, but Mr. Call was still not back, and she felt she could not tell Mr. Shelby her troubles.

So, her nightmares continued. She did not know how it could get any worse.

Then she entered her uncle's room. His shutters were banging violently, and the wind outside sounded like a human wail. He sat in a chair, staring out into the storm. The wind whipped his curtains into a frenzy, yet he was oblivious to it all.

When Maria reached the shutters, she cried out, protecting her eyes. Lightening flared out over the entire sky, and then it was blinding dark. It flashed again, almost softly at first, and then the tendrils of a huge bolt of lightening grabbed at the valley floor. Solitary drops of rain splattered on the windowsill, and soon, the lightening flared again. Trembling, Maria latched the shutters as thunder awakened the entire valley. She heard dogs yelping at the roar. She secured the window when another boom of thunder shook the walls. It only took a few seconds for the floor to get wet.

She was about to race to the other rooms to shut the windows when her uncle's hand suddenly latched onto her wrist. She tried to shake him off, but he would not let go.

"Lily," he whispered hoarsely to her. "Why did you want us to come out here?"

The lightening illuminated the pain on his face. "We were doing so well in Boston. Why did you think we should come out here?"

His grip tightened on her wrist as thunder rumbled throughout the valley.

"Uncle Josiah, please," Maria begged as his fingers dug painfully into her skin.

"It's hell out here," Josiah moaned, barely above the wind. "It took my Sarah. It took my Hannah. Why, Lily? We wouldn't be out here if it wasn't for you. It's all your fault. I believed you when you said the West was a new beginning, but you were so wrong. You killed my Sarah. You killed my Sarah."

Maria did not know what to say. Tears streamed down her face. "Uncle Josiah."

Josiah's blue eyes flared angrily as lightening lit the room. "As far as I'm concerned, you can go to straight to hell!" He violently threw her arm away from his. His stare was transfixed upon his window.

Stunned, Maria walked out of his room. She barely noticed when Austin came running from outside. He was drenched and breathing hard.

"Is Father all right?" he voiced in concern. He looked around to the unclosed windows. "Why haven't you shut the windows?"

Even now, the storm was quieting. Rain gently fell on the floor, and the thunder eased to a small grumble. It would not be long before the rain stopped all together.

"Don't you hear me?" Austin said, grabbing her gently by the shoulders.

Finally, Maria woke from her daze. She looked into Austin's concerned dark eyes. The water from his hair dripped onto the floor.

"Go help your father," she told him. "I'll get the windows."

Austin frowned, and then let her go. He went immediately to Josiah's room.

As she latched the shutters and closed the windows, Maria thought that she would have to find her cousin a towel. He might catch the death of a cold if he was not careful. He had to stay healthy for Josiah's sake.

As for Josiah, Maria knew that there was little that she could do. He was hopelessly out of her reach.

She sat hugging her knees, her back against the windmill. It was as hot and dry as ever, and the prior night's rainstorm only served to make it muggy. She watched for her blood brother. Very few people arrived in Curtis Wells that afternoon, and so far, her blood brother was not one of them. The only people that dared to enter town were two miserable travelers on the stage. Maria assumed that they were railroad executives, although she did not care. She was waiting for her blood brother to arrive. She sat there, watching for him. She would see him the moment he arrived in town. She would not miss him.

She needed him. She hugged her knees more tightly, praying for his arrival. She had to tell someone about Josiah. She had to tell someone who would understand. She had to tell someone who would make her feel better.

She just wished her blood brother would arrive soon. She felt some deep instability inside of her, and she was unsure of how long she could contain it. Just thinking about her blood brother's comforting presence brought tears to her eyes.

Rocking back and forth, she watched the road. No one. There had been no one for hours, it seemed. He had to arrive. He just had to.

Then a horrible thought occurred to her. Perhaps she had missed him after all. Perhaps he rode in from the opposite side of town. Perhaps he got his bounty and left town for another. Perhaps she missed him all together.

With that thought, she could stand it no longer. She sobbed quietly into her knees. She had been abandoned.

"Miss Bennett?" Mr. Shelby inquired with alarm. "What's wrong with you?"

Startled, Maria looked up to find him kneeling at her side. She quickly wiped her tears. "Nothing."

Mr. Shelby regarded her in disbelief and materialized a handkerchief for her. She gratefully accepted. "I thought I told you that I would be there if you needed me, Miss Bennett. Now why in God's name are you sitting here crying?"

She looked at him hopelessly. "I can't ask you not to tell Mr. Mosby. Not that he can't guess about my uncle anyway, but it wouldn't be fair to put you in the middle. I really wish I could tell you. I really do." Again, tears formed in her eyes.

Mr. Shelby muttered a curse. "Look, what you tell me stays with me. Clay knows better than to even ask. You're causing yourself undue concern. Now what's going on here?"

Maria did not know how to begin. Mr. Shelby settled himself across from her.

"I'm a ghost," she said simply. Maria thought that explained it all.

Mr. Shelby's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What?"

"I'm a ghost, or at least that's what I am to Uncle Josiah. He sees my mother every time he looks at me. He blames her for Aunt Sarah's death somehow, and he can't tell me apart from my mother. Every time he looks at me he sees her ghost or her memory or whatever he sees. I'm not even real to him. To him, I'm not even there. I have no identity to him. I'm just her. If I had to be a double, why couldn't I take the form of a person he loves?" Maria's mouth twisted darkly. "Why couldn't I be Hannah?"

She saw Mr. Shelby's face grimace in what looked to her like pain. "No," he finally managed to say. "You wouldn't want to be that."

"No, I suppose you're right, Mr. Shelby," she sighed. "I'd have to carry a bouquet of flowers around and smile all the time. Everyone in town would be absolutely besotted with me, including my blood brother, and that would be positively weird. And awful," she added, frowning. Her thoughts took a serious turn. "What if Newton was to see Hannah again, except that it wasn't Hannah? His dead wife's image would be within touching distance, yet she would be oblivious as to why he needed her so badly. It would torment him. Poor Newton. And the poor girl. It would be awful. It would be a living nightmare."

Mr. Shelby's face turned ashen. "It wouldn't be easy to see the reincarnation of someone you loved, be her wife or sister." He cleared his throat, regarding her, adding, "Or niece."

Maria's eyes welled again with tears. "Yes, my poor uncle. Except he sees the reincarnation of someone he hates."

Mr. Shelby moved closer to her, patting her hand. "I don't think he hates you. He wouldn't have tried to protect you when I called on you, otherwise."

"He told me to go to hell."

"No, he told your mother. Not you."

"But still, he doesn't like me very much."

Mr. Shelby squeezed her hand. "I doubt that."

Maria smiled at him gratefully, although she really did not believe him. "I wonder if Hannah would have like me."

Mr. Shelby regarded her. "I wouldn't know. I didn't know Hannah."

"Mr. Mosby did," Maria replied somewhat bitterly. Mr. Mosby knew Hannah well enough to kiss her. In her mind, Hannah had interfered with everyone Maria had even tried to get close to in Curtis Wells.

Mr. Shelby let go of her hand. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Maria frowned when she saw him scrutinize her. She realized that she had said too much. Mr. Shelby did not need to know his best friend's lapse in judgment. "They were friends," Maria added hastily. "Hannah was everyone's friend. I imagine that at this very instant that she would charm the angels out of heaven if she wasn't busy causing everyone down here anguish and despair."

Mr. Shelby's expression softened somewhat. "You don't really think that."

"Yes, I do. I get so jealous over her sometimes that I feel like I'm going crazy. I know it's silly to be angry with a dead woman, but I still feel that way. Although I don't know if Hannah would have like me, I'm afraid I wouldn't have like her. She's caused everyone so much pain."

Mr. Shelby's eyes hardened. "Only the living are responsible for their own actions, Miss Bennett. There are no such things as ghosts. I suggest the ones you're really angry at are your uncle, Austin, and Newt Call. If you start to blame Hannah, you'll only end up driving yourself mad."

Maria frowned. He was right, of course. She knew it was not fair to blame her late cousin, and it did not good to blame her anyway. Mr. Shelby went so far as to suggest that it was crazy to do it, and Maria did not have to think about it -- she knew it was crazy. Sometimes she wondered what the difference between herself and her uncle was.

She stood up. Although it was difficult to admit, she thought Mr. Shelby ought to know. "I might as well tell you now. I'm more like my uncle than I care to admit. Everyone in town will tell you that I'm odd. Most times they are probably right. I know I should have told you this before, but you've been so very kind. I hope you can forgive me."

He gave her a strange look and stood up, too. He shook his head. "Miss Bennett, I must say, you keep a man on his toes. You are odd. You're very odd. I've thought so the minute I met you. If you recall, you were trying to pummel me with a snowball, and I thought at the time that you were the kind of woman I'd like to know. You keep me in a state of guessing, and I like that. I just get concerned about you when I see you upset or when you look like you haven't slept well. And you haven't, have you? When's the last time you had a good night's rest?"

Maria frowned. Her dreams were another can of worms, and Mr. Shelby would really think she was crazy if he knew anything about them. No one knew about her dreams except Mr. Mosby, and she trusted Mr. Mosby never to tell anyone about them. "I haven't slept well, but it's probably the stress. I'm fine, really."

Mr. Shelby nodded, yet disbelief was clearly in his eyes. "If you say so, Miss Bennett. Listen, I want you to do something for me tonight. I want you to dream this for me. I want you to imagine that you are riding with me down a flume."

"A flume?" she asked incredulously. She wondered why on earth he would want her to dream about a wooden structure that transported trees from on top of a mountain to the river valley.

His boyish smile was quite charming. "Yes, a flume. We'll jump on a little boat at the top. It won't take us long to pick up speed, and soon, we'll be flying. We'll get all wet, and the cold wind will sting our faces at fifty miles an hour. Can you imagine it, Miss Bennett? We'd whip around a comer, and we'd wonder how on earth we stay inside. Of course, we'll have to dodge tree limbs on the way down, but it will only take minutes to get from the top to the bottom. It would be the ride of your life, I guarantee you."

Maria became breathless just thinking about it. "You've ridden on a flume, Mr. Shelby? Why on earth would you do such a thing?"

Mr. Shelby grinned sheepishly. "It wasn't exactly my choice, Miss Bennett. I had to be someplace else in a hurry, and the flume seemed like the best idea at the time." He chuckled just thinking about it. "It's a ride I've never forgot, that's for certain."

The more Maria thought about it, the more frightened she became. An overhanging tree limb could sever body parts at those speeds. "I'm not sure if I would have too much fun doing that sort of thing," Maria admitted. "I would have to hold onto you for dear life all the way down. I'd probably squeeze the life out of you."

Maria's face turned red at the thought of Mr. Shelby so near. Mr. Shelby merely grinned warmly. "If you need to dream that, Miss Bennett, you do so. It'd be better than what you've been dreaming is my guess."

Maria knew that anything would be better than the nightmares that now continually haunted her. As she looked into Mr. Shelby's hazel eyes, she would endeavor to do as he asked. Even if she had to dream of holding him, she thought warmly, she would try it later that very night.

Maria yawned as she sat waiting on Mr. Call's bench. It was no good for him to elude her. She would wait at this very spot until he showed up in town. It was well after dinner, and Austin sat with Josiah. Maria sat waiting for Mr. Call. It was high time that he reappeared back in town. She needed him, and he was not going to get away.

There was a tightness in the air, a stillness that warned of something unnatural.

Unnatural was right, Maria concluded. Josiah hovered on the edge of lucidity now. Austin and she tried to coach him into saying a few fitting words for the depot ceremony, yet Josiah always managed to add something queer into the speech. Maria hoped that Josiah would hold on for just a few more days. The depot was completed, and a few more railroad executives were arriving into town. It would not be very long before the tracks reached Curtis Wells. To her, the tracks and the depot ceremony seemed like the day of reckoning.

Maria wished that she could get some rest. Thanks to Mr. Shelby, her dreams started off well, but they ended in a confused mess. For the last few nights, she dreamt of flying down a flume with Mr. Shelby, but Mr. Shelby turned into Hannah, and then Hannah disappeared. The flume turned into a railroad, and Maria flew off the tracks when they ended abruptly before reaching Curtis Wells. Sometimes she awoke on the floor. Her clothes were always sweat-drenched.

Maria longed for autumn. She longed for a time when it was not so hot. Maybe she could get some sleep when it was cooler.

She took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her body tensed instead. A faint smell nearly choked her. Tightness pervaded her lungs. Maria shook her head. It was crazy.

It was just another ending of a hot summer's day, she told herself. There was nothing wrong.

Her hands shook as she looked into the hot twilight sky. It was hazy and light pink.

She gripped the bench. There was nothing wrong.

Then she saw Mr. Call. His body was dirty with ash and soot, and his horse looked like she had just returned from her namesake. He rode the Hell Bitch straight to the Ambrosia Club, and dismounted her with unnatural haste. Once he was inside the saloon, it did not take long until she heard shouting and commotion. Several men, including Mr. Mosby and Mr. Call, left the establishment immediately. Mr. Mosby shouted out several orders, calling for all able-bodied men and buckets and shovels. The commotion soon drew the attention of everyone that happened to be indoors.

It did not take long for them to understand the trouble when they filtered out of their establishments. A cloud of smoke shaped like a huge mushroom billowed on the nearby Curtis Peak.

It was like it had come out of nowhere.

Maria stared at it in horror as the townspeople shouted in confusion. Mr. Call was saying something to Mr. Mosby about Red Crow as he mounted the Hell Bitch. Mr. Mosby was shouting commands, ordering his men to dig fire lines around the perimeter of the town. Mr. Shelby led several of Mr. Mosby's men with picks and shovels as Mr. Mosby quickly organized a bucket brigade to protect the town buildings. The townsmen were hard at work, while the women tried to calm the children. A hot wind blew threw town.

"Maria, make sure Father stays here," she heard Austin command.

Startled, she looked up at her cousin. He was mounted, holding a shovel in his arm much like a rifle.

"You're not going out there?" Maria asked in alarm. She jumped up. She knew exactly what a fire could do. It would envelope him. It would consume him. She could not allow him to go.

"You stay here and protect Father. If a brush fire starts ..." Austin shook his head grimly. "Take Father and head south if it gets near the town. You hear me?"

He did not stay for her response. He urged his mount into a gallop to join Mr. Shelby's men.

It must have been like war, Maria realized. Everyone she loved was riding into impending doom. Mr. Call rode off west to God knows where, while Austin went off to establish fire lines with Mr. Mosby and Mr. Shelby and the other men. The women and children and the elders were stuck in town, awaiting their fate.

The heat hovered over all of them, smothering them, closing in on them.

Maria staggered back to the newspaper office only to see her uncle feebly hold a pick in his hand. He was locking the office door.

"Stay at the office," he told her. "I'm going to help, too."

"No," she whispered. He was the only one she had left. "You can't go."

"I'm the mayor," Josiah said, bravely holding up his chin.

"Please stay with me," she begged, clutching onto his arm. She stared at the smoke, knowing all about the fire that caused it. Fire haunted her. It followed her wherever she went. It was going to take everything she ever had. "I can't stay here alone," she cried, trembling. "Please. I'm so scared. It took my parents. It took my brother. It's going to take ... If you only knew ... Please don't go. Don't leave me alone."

Softness touched Josiah's blue eyes. He patted her gently on the head. "There, there, now. It's all right." He frowned, thoughtfulness on his features. He put down the pick. "I should stay here, though. I should stay here and protect the town in case there is a problem. I am the mayor." Josiah turned to open the door. "You go in now. I'll wait with you. We will be vigilant together."

Josiah locked the door behind her. Together they watched the sun set in a hellish sky. The sun was blood red. Maria clutched onto her uncle.

He smiled at the sun. "The day is coming ..." he muttered, joy lighting his features.

Maria could not look. She sunk to her knees.

Darkness finally overtook them both.

She just wanted everyone home. She wanted all of this to end.

She looked up to see her uncle staring out the window in fascination. She saw it, too.

The mountain burned like a huge glowing ember. In the light of day, the smoke hid the flames, but night revealed something huge and terrifying. The entire hillside was dotted with flames. It was horrible. There was no chance of escape.

Maria curled into a ball. It was hopeless.

She nearly jumped when she felt a hand stroke down the length of her back. Then she relaxed. It brought tears to her eyes. Aunt Elinor used to do that.

"You go onto bed now," Josiah told her. "I'll wait up."

He gently helped her up and patted her in the direction of her room. When she reached the doorway, he said quietly, "Your mother used to get scared like that."

Then he sat in his chair. The portraits of Hannah and Sarah were by his side.

She could not get to sleep despite her uncle's reassurance that he would keep watch. The fire terrified her, and she worried for everyone she knew. Hours past, and finally it was sunrise. She fixed herself and her uncle a measly breakfast, yet there was still no word.

A few hours after sunrise, Austin finally came through the back door of the office. He was dirty and exhausted. He dropped his shovel on the floor, sinking down in a chair.

"Well?" inquired his father.

Maria was too afraid to ask. Perhaps her cousin was only back to wait with them until the fire burned them all.

"We dug fire lines all night," Austin said. Then he looked around for something in the office. "Someone get me a drink."

"Maria, go get him something," Josiah ordered. Then he looked to his son. "Well, what about the fire?"

Maria could not leave. She stood, awaiting the horror of what her cousin had to say.

"From what I heard, there was some awful fires in the badlands. But a brush fire will have a hard time getting through what we put up last night," he said. "There's some look-outs there now just in case. The rest of us went home."

Maria did not know whether to believe him. Surely the fire would destroy them all.

"But the mountain," she stammered. "It's still on fire."

"It's on the other side now," Austin replied. "I imagine the only ones that need to worry now are the trappers, if there are any this time of year."

Josiah straightened his shirt. "The good Lord decided not to smite us this day," he said. "But we all should remain vigilant."

Austin shook his head at his father.

Maria did not hear her uncle. She still could not believe it. She was so sure the fire would consume them all.

"No one is hurt?" she asked in a small voice.

"As far as I know. Except old Bill Hastings had a heart attack. Doc Cleese is taking care of him right now."

Maria frowned. It was all so unbelievable.

"And Newton?" she whispered.

"Call wasn't there," Austin snapped angrily. "Don't know where he was, except he wasn't where he should have been. Listen, I'm tired. Someone go get me a drink."

Maria did not hear him. She left the newspaper office. Her blood brother was still out there, and she had to see for herself.

She wept when she finally saw her blood brother approach from the west. She had been waiting on Boot Hill for him for what seemed like hours, all the while unable to tear her gaze away from the smoldering mountain. Even now, it seemed like it would sweep down and turn them all into blazes. At least her blood brother was safe for the moment, she thought as she wiped her tears.

She did not have the energy to climb down the hill or even raise her voice to greet him. He did not see her, either. He was busy helping some injured Indians into town.

She was so very glad he was safe. She would not know what she would have done if he had been hurt.

She stared at the burning mountain. It wanted to hurt her. It wanted to hurt her family. She hated it, yet she could not look away. She knew she was staring at her own death. She could not avoid it. She feared it. She knew she would cry and scream when it came. She had done that before.

Yet, it sat there smoldering. It was waiting. It was biding its time.

"Good God," Mr. Shelby exclaimed. "What are you doing out here? For heaven's sake, go inside."

She did not even hear him approach her. She tore her gaze away to see that he was as filthy as her cousin was earlier that morning. He looked just as tired.

"Tell Haverson and Day that it's their turn," he yelled down to a few of Mr. Mosby's men at the foot of the hill. "And make sure they get some coffee. I'll be with you in a moment." He turned back towards her, but her gaze was back on the mountain.

"What are you doing out here?" he repeated, somewhat irritably.

She was transfixed by it. It gripped her. It would not let her go.

He sighed, crouching down to comfort her. "Have you had any rest?"

The tenderness in his voice was strong enough to draw her attention to back to him. She stared into his hazel eyes. They were a beautiful color, so different than the blazing colors of hell that she felt like weeping.

"I dream of fire," her voice cracked.

She wished that he could do something, but she knew it was hopeless. She stared back at the mountain in resignation.

"Damn," Mr. Shelby said underneath his breath. He pulled her close to him.

His tenderness broke her heart.

"Come here. That's it," he soothed as she sobbed into his shoulder. "Ssh. Ssh. It's all right. The worst is over now. Fires always travel up hill. It won't come back down here. Believe me. You don't need to worry so."

She pulled away from him. He did not understand about fire. He did not know what it could do. "But ... I've seen ... I know ..." she began.

He frowned, looking into her eyes. "Your family?" he asked quietly.

Maria nodded, but that was not all. She tightly grasped his hand. There was something he did not understand ... her back ... Mrs. Harner.... "It scars," she brought herself to say. "It mutilates."

He looked at her in confused sympathy.

Fearing she said too much, she quickly looked at the mountain. "Look at it," she said. "All those beautiful trees ... gone. They're nothing but burned and charred waste. They've left an ugly scar now."

Mr. Shelby frowned. "Have you ever been in a fire area about a year or so afterward?"

She looked at him bitterly. She would not want to return to the scene of her parents' and little brother's deaths for any reason.

"No, no. I mean up there," he said, indicating to the mountain. "In the last three years, I've seen swaths and swaths of trees burned. The burnouts are the blackest, ugliest, most desolate places I've ever seen, but I tell you one thing, and that is this ... In a year or so, they are the most beautiful places you will ever rest your eyes upon. Do you know why?"

Maria regarded him as if he was crazy. Nothing good ever came out of fire.

"The green, Maria. The green," he declared. "God, you've never seen anything so pretty as the green of the grasses or the purple of little flowers. I mean, you'd never think anything could ever grow there again, but flowers just come in there and take over. You see them growing on the ground as these giant black embers tower above them. It's just so pretty. Something as small as a flower can root ... that's just amazing."

She looked at him hopefully ... it sounded too good to be true. "It sounds ... nice."

"No," he smiled. "It's beautiful. I'll take you up there come spring. You'll see."

She wanted to believe him. "It won't be the same."

"No," he shook his head. "Things never are. But it'll be just fine."

His words reminded her of something that he had said to her what seemed like ages ago. "And people? What if they're ... scarred? Will they be all right?"

She looked into his eyes for reassurance. He smiled back down at her. "I suppose you're right. People are like that sometimes. Something hurts them really bad, and you think there's nothing left there to salvage. But true friends will stay there with them. Help them through it. So they can grow again ... maybe not the same, but perhaps better. Friends make it so the roots can take hold, I suppose. Nothing is so bad as all that."

That was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. "You're like that," she said, tears welling in her eyes.

He smiled at her, pulling her close to him. He gently wiped her tears. "You," he said, playfully tapping her nose, "are sweet."

Maria blushed under his touch.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby."

He pulled away from her. "Now when I first came to town, I liked it when you called me 'Mister Shelby.' Nobody has called me 'Mister' in a long time. But now I'd rather you call me 'Robert.' Will you do that for me -- will you call me 'Robert?'"

Maria's face turned red. Only good friends called each other by their given names. Mr. Shelby was so handsome, too. It was her good fortune to come across such a man.

"All right, Mister, er, Robert," she said shyly.

"And may I call you 'Maria?'" he asked her gently.

Again, Maria felt the warmth rise to her face. She could only nod at him.

"Good," he grinned boyishly.

Then both their gazes were drawn to an unusual sight down in town. Mr. Mosby, in his long leather duster, stalked unhappily from the telegraph office. Maria knew that when Mr. Mosby wore that duster that there was some kind of problem. It must have been an extraordinary problem if he wore that duster in all this heat.

"Something's not right," Maria commented. "It's not the fire, do you think?" she added fearfully.

Mr. Shelby did not answer her immediately. "No," he finally replied, his gaze still on his friend. "I'm sure it's just fine." Then he turned back, quickly squeezing her hand. "Will you be all right if I leave you alone now? Promise me you'll go back to the office and get some rest."

"I promise," she nodded.

"Good. And no fires, do you hear? I want you to dream about nice things, like flumes and flowers, all right?"

She nodded as he squeezed her hand for the last time.

"Very well," he smiled. "Goodbye, Maria."

"Goodbye ... Robert."

He grinned boyishly, tipped his hat, and finally trotted down the hill.

As Maria made her way to the newspaper office, she knew she would be dreaming of much more than flowers and flumes.

It still took her awhile to doze off, and then her uncle Josiah interrupted her. He was telling Austin something. Austin probably did not appreciate being woke up, either.

"He hath stricken down the money lenders," Josiah quoted. "He hath cleansed the land with a refiner's fire."

"What are you going on about?" she heard Austin ask irritably.

Maria wiped her eyes, getting up from her nap. She had better see what her uncle was rambling on about this time. She entered Austin's room only to find her uncle pacing excitedly.

"Mosby," Josiah tried to explain. "Whole sections of track have been destroyed by the fire. It's been burning ever since the storm, but he hasn't received word of it until now. Thousands of dollars of damage have been done."

Austin looked fully refreshed by the news. "You don't say?" he asked rather gleefully.

"Not only that ... but a money train headed this way burned in good measure. Mosby's business partners are destroyed, too."

"I guess you could say Mosby's plans are up in smoke," Austin smirked.

Maria looked at her cousin in disgust. Did he have any pity? Then she thought of poor Mr. Mosby ... all his dreams were dashed. All his hard work in the past few months was all for nothing.

"Didn't want to make a speech at the depot anyway," Josiah grumbled.

"Nope," Austin agreed, a grin widening his face. "Doesn't look like you need to now."

Maria regarded her uncle. Yes, perhaps for now, he had a reprieve, but how long would it take Mr. Mosby to decide that he needed a new mayor? She was not very confident.

She returned to her room for some rest. Her thoughts centered on poor Mr. Mosby. Yet again, fire destroyed someone's life.

Although Maria tried to rest, her uncle and cousin did not let her. They caused too much ruckus. Even late after supper, they still did not settle down.

Maria had no choice. She knew of only one place where she would not be disturbed. She used a couple of hymnals for a pillow and plunked herself on the very first pew that she saw. No one would mind her getting a few minutes rest in the church. It was not as if she was falling asleep during a sermon, she reasoned.

It was well into the night when the creaking of floorboards startled her awake. She looked up to see a man heading towards the front of the church. He sat at the very front. Apparently, he did not see her.

It took Maria's eyes a few minutes to adjust to the moonlight. She could only see his silhouette from her position. The man was silent -- he made no move or gesture.

Frowning, Maria wondered who it might be, but she decided it was probably best to leave him alone. He obviously did not come to church for company.

She quietly peered up from her pew. The loud thud of her hymnal dropping on the floor startled both herself and the man.

He turned to her direction. "Mr. Mosby?" she exclaimed. From the moonlight, she could see the poor man looked disheveled and exhausted. He was startled, too. He obviously thought he was alone.

"I - I was resting for a few minutes in church," Maria stammered when he did not say a word to her. "I must have fallen asleep. I wouldn't dream of ... I didn't know you would come. I wouldn't be --"

He held up his hand to silence her. "I knew it would be folly to come here anyway," he said hopelessly. He turned away from her.

Maria felt like crying for him. The loss of the railroad must have weighed heavily upon him.

"I'm so sorry about the railroad, Mr. Mosby," she said, knowing how pathetic her words sounded.

His bitter and ironic laugh filled the church. Then he sighed. "Well, I should have expected it, I suppose." He turned to her. "Go on, Miss Bennett. Your uncle needn't worry for the moment. He's still mayor."

She frowned. Her uncle was not who she was worried about right now.

She was not sure what to say to the town proprietor. She bit her lip. "Mr. Shelby says that the flowers and grasses are the first to grow in a burned out area. I hope he's right."

A smile came to Mr. Mosby's face, but it lacked warmth. "Just what I need ... miles of pretty flowers where tracks used to be. No wonder Robert wanted us to get drunk tonight."

Maria regarded him closely. The man may have already had a few drinks. She felt pity for him, but she knew that was not the right way to handle it.

"Go on home now, Miss Bennett. I'll be all right."

She frowned in disbelief. That was not true, otherwise Mr. Mosby would not be here. She knew that he did not attend church.

"I wish I could do something for you, Mr. Mosby. I wish I could take away all the pain and destruction fire has caused. I wish it never happened."

It was his turn to regard her closely. "I'm sure you do, Miss Bennett," he nodded sympathetically. His eyes softened thoughtfully. He turned away from her.

Maria watched him for a few minutes, and then decided that it was best to leave him to his contemplation. Before she left the church, he asked her softly, "Do you ever ask yourself 'why?'"

Tears welled in her eyes. God was not vindictive, or at least she hoped that He wasn't. The fire was what destroyed, not God. "I don't want to ask myself that question. I would really drive myself crazy if I did. I try not to think about why, but I just know that it is."

His back faced her, and he gave her no indication that he heard her. He seemed so alone in that church, she thought as she closed the church door behind her. She only hoped that Mr. Mosby knew otherwise.

END
August 2002

Addendum: Robert's flume ride is based on an actual event. According to Time Life: Loggers, specially designed boats were rigged for the flumes so to transport items from the top to the bottom. Occasionally, only bold or injured men would get on those boats. They risked impalement by large splinters in the trough or by overhanging tree limbs. Sometimes the boat would take a curve too fast and leap from the trough. In 1903, reporter Bailey Millard and a photographer went down the Sanger Flume and lived to tell the tale. It was 54 miles long ... the descent was 4737 feet total. The first 4300 feet occured during the first 13 miles ... about 330 feet per mile. While on the stretch called the "Devil's Slide," Millard noted, "I could not time the swiftness of the Devil's Slide any more than a man riding a cyclone can manage a stopwatch, but it seemed to me that no express train ever equalled it." Indeed, both men made it to San Joaquin Valley intact. "The ride is such a bit of brisk living as sets the blood all a-tingle and gives one a taste of recklessness of Phaeton trying to drive the chariot of the sun. One feels that to make such a voyage every day would in time fill even the commonest of men with the abandon of gods."

Related links to this story:

Biography of James Garfield
Butterflies and Blazes (Phoenix links)
Phoenix Rising
The Phoenix Center