Heidi sighed and sat on the small stool in front of her dressing mirror. She pivoted, absorbing all the sights and smells of her room. The bed she’d slept in since childhood, the blue and purple flowered wallpaper she and Mother had picked out together. Tears welled in her eyes. If only she were leaving her treasured room for something better.
Clarence had purchased a house, one she had no intention of living in. He resented the fact that she hadn’t stepped over the threshold, and had no interest in decorating. She snorted. Decorating. With Papa’s money, no doubt. Well, he could decorate the blasted place himself.
Not caring if she wrinkled the beautiful dress, she meandered to the bed, plopped down, and swung her legs over. Heidi reclined against the pillows, tilting her head to stare at the ceiling. As always, Michael drifted into her mind. What was he doing today? On a Saturday, he would be in the shop for the morning. Did he even know today she would marry Clarence? Would he care?
She rolled over and glanced at the clock. Ten thirty-five. Soon Papa would come to escort her to the buggy. She fumbled for her handkerchief and allowed herself the luxury of one more cry, not caring if she showed up at the church a blotchy-faced bride.
****
Ten thirty-five. Michael shook his head as he tucked his watch into his pocket. He’d finally arrived at the front door of the farmhouse. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, and slid into his jacket. After giving himself a couple of minutes to calm his breathing, lest he scare these people, he knocked on the door.
Frantic no one answered after knocking twice, he turned to check the barn when the door opened. A short, elderly woman peered out at him. “Yeah?” Stains covered her cotton gown, and she wore broken men’s shoes on her feet.
“Good morning, ma’am. I wonder if your husband is home?”
She stepped onto the porch, spit tobacco juice from the side of her mouth, then swiped the brown liquid dripping down her chin. “Been buried in the back yard now for going on ten years.”
Dead, I hope.
“I realize this is a strange request, but do you have a horse I could borrow?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Now, why would I be keeping a horse just so’s you can come along and borrow it?”
Michael’s shoulders slumped. “You don’t have a horse?”
“Nope.”
“Do you happen to know if someone nearby has a horse?”
“Yep. My son does.”
“Does he live far from here?”
“Nope.”
Michael took a deep breath, to keep from shaking the woman. “Where does he live?”
She widened the door and jerked her head back. “Right here.”
He brushed past her, and shook the shoulder of the man snoring on the broken-down sofa. “Excuse me, sir.”
The man gave one large snort and opened his bloodshot eyes. “What?”
“Sir, I understand you own a horse.”
“Yeah. Who wants to know?”
Michael went down on one knee to look the man in the eye. “I am in desperate need of a horse. I would very much like to borrow
yours.”
The man narrowed his eyes, where they almost disappeared in his fleshy face. “Who are you, and why should I lend you my horse?”
“My name is Michael Henderson. I’m a pharmacist, and I own a store in Guthrie.”
“Why do you need a horse so bad? Where’s yours?”
Michael leaned away from the foul breath emanating from the man. “I was a passenger on the way from Guthrie, but the train broke down, and I really need to get to Oklahoma City.”