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Uncharted Courage

By Keely Brooke Keith

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March 17, 2030
Almost autumn in the Land


The morning sun’s first rays darted through the strong limbs of an ancient gray leaf tree that guarded the cemetery near Falls Creek. Bailey was supposed to be tacking her horse for the day’s journey, but the gray leaf tree’s intoxicating aroma made her linger in the graveyard as much as the man resting beneath the earth. Often, she had to remind herself that only her biological father’s shell was buried below the stone marker, not his soul.
Last autumn, the earth had bulged unnaturally over Professor Timothy Van Buskirk’s grave. The winter’s heavy snows had since flattened the dirt, and spring’s thick grass had grown over the soil. After a full summer of rain showers and sunshine and frequent mowing, the dried turf of Professor Tim’s burial site now blended with the others in the cemetery, except for one fresh grave.
Bailey stood near Tim’s headstone and allowed her gaze to drift up through the gray leaf tree’s stalwart branches to a flock of geese passing high above. The honking birds, with their speckled feathers and long bills, didn’t look quite like the geese back home in America, but they were fun to watch. The followers encouraged the leader as it cut a path through the air, guiding them northward for the Land’s warmer temperatures. Though the official beginning of autumn was still days away, the Antarctic winds were already changing, hinting at a fast-approaching winter for the Land.
At least that was what every trader who passed through the village of Falls Creek said.
John Colburn’s invitation for an extended visit in Good Springs couldn’t have come at a better time for Bailey. Though their correspondence had been steady—thanks to Revel’s reliable courier service—there was still only so much of John’s wise counsel she could absorb from his letters. She needed to spend time with him in person, having fireside conversations in his living room; eating slow, satisfying meals at his table; listening to his Sunday sermons from the family pew in the historic chapel.
Professor Tim had taught her all about plant biology back at Eastern Shore University in Virginia, and now she needed to learn deeper truths from John Colburn—truths about God and life. Hopefully, she would also discover the source of the nagging yearning she couldn’t name or define. She stooped to trace a reluctant finger over the carved letters of Tim’s headstone. “I’m sure you would understand, Dad.”
It still felt weird to call Professor Tim that. She hadn’t even known he was her father until days before his death.
The stone’s coolness chilled her finger. She withdrew her hands into the sleeves of her old E.S.U. sweatshirt. Autumn would be warmer in Good Springs than here. Maybe it would feel like her college nights back home on Virginia’s coast. Those nights seemed like a lifetime ago.
She shouldn’t conjure memories of the past, of her life before coming to the Land. When she competed in martial arts tournaments in high school, Coach had always said champions never looked backed at failure, only forward for the win. He was right. She should only think of how grateful she was for her new life here—no matter how much it had cost.
She stood, her vision locked on Tim’s headstone.
He had made all this possible for her by giving his life to get her across the world to this magnificent, hidden land.
Her new life came with her dream job, a peaceful community, new friends, and even distant relatives she hadn’t known about until this time last year. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered to the empty air as she stepped back. “I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
Soft sunlight crept higher over the horizon, shining on the freshly harvested fields that stretched across the rolling hills. She loved this region of the Land. Time away might make her love it even more, which would be helpful if Falls Creek was in for the hard winter the traders were predicting. She would be back before then, ready to prep the greenhouse for a winter crop, ready for long nights of telling stories and playing cards with the people she’d grown to love at the inn.
Soft boot thumps rustled the dry grass behind her. That casually shuffling gait always warmed her heart. She turned to watch Revel Roberts cross the cemetery toward her.
He waited until he was close enough to speak in the private tone he reserved for her. He gave Tim’s headstone a quick glance. “I don’t want to rush you, but the McIntoshes are eager to leave soon.”
The family of four was climbing onto their covered wagon near the stable block. Revel’s brown stallion stood beside it, proudly facing the road. Bailey couldn’t see her horse from here. “Okay, I’ll be right there to saddle Gee.”
“No need. I already have.” The sun ascended a degree and shone on Revel’s clean-shaven face. He didn’t look away from her, but only squinted, crinkling the skin around his caring eyes. “Take your time here. I’ll get your bags.”
He always did too much for her. His gentlemanly manners were charming, but she could take care of herself. “No, Rev. You’re sweet, but I’ll get my stuff when I go inside to say goodbye to Eva and Sybil.”
He lifted his chin at the laundry house across the yard. “I saw Naomi go in there a few minutes ago.”
“I said goodbye to her after breakfast. To Claudia too.” She took another step back from Tim’s grave. “I just came here to tell… not that he can… it’s just that—”
Revel ran an understanding hand over her shoulder. “I know.” His gaze turned to the newest tombstone on the other side of the cemetery.
Maybe he had walked to the cemetery to do more than hurry her along. She motioned toward Frederick Roberts’ grave. “You probably want a few minutes alone.”
“No. My father isn’t here. He’s much happier where he is.” He snapped his eyes away from Frederick’s headstone. “He’s back to his healthy self, energetic and in his right mind.”
The look he gave her then said all she needed to hear and asked for all she could not give. Her insides tightened like they had the time he attempted to kiss her.
The time she turned him down.
Before she could back away or think of something diverting to say, the pleading in his gaze departed. He ran a knuckle along her sleeve. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Super. Couldn’t be better.”
He lowered his chin and gave her the Oh, really? look she deserved.
They had more in common now that he too had lost his father. The comfort of having a kindred spirit softened their shared grief. That was something she’d never had with any of her guy friends back in America, even the teammates she’d fought alongside in tournaments.
The playful yelling of two small children carried across the yard. Revel’s expression lightened as he pointed a thumb back at their fellow travelers. “The McIntoshes are hoping their little ones will fall asleep when the wagon starts rolling.”
Bailey chuckled at the excited kids. “I don’t know much about kids, but I think it will take more than a rolling wagon to persuade them to take a nap. Maybe I’ll slip them a cup of gray leaf tea.”
Revel’s eyes widened briefly before he smiled.
She loved when her humor shocked him. Yes, she would have fun on this trip. With renewed excitement for the journey, she started for the inn’s side door. “Tell the McIntoshes I’ll be right there. Just a quick goodbye to Sybil and Eva, then we can hit the road for Good Springs.” She hollered to him over her shoulder as she jogged to the inn. “Road trip to Good Springs! Woo hoo! This is going to rock!”
He left the graveyard without giving his father’s tombstone another glance. “To rock? Is that good?”
“It is!”
“Excellent! To rock, it is.” A hint of mischief curved his lips and filled his eyes with delight. It was a look he gave her often, and she hoped he always would.

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