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Bluebird on the Prairie

By Tasha Hackett

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Prologue
Ockelbo, Nebraska
April 1879

The thick darkness of her bedroom pressed in until she cried out. She was suddenly awake. And alone.
With a gasp, she sat up in bed. Drenched in sweat with her legs tangled in the sheet, Eloise threw her pillow against the wall. Nausea rolled in her stomach. Scrambling out of bed, she leaned over the washbasin and retched.
At only twenty years old, she felt ancient. She had lived a lifetime already. Eloise Davidson, the widow, had woken up alone for the past fourteen months—months filled with weeks that felt like years. The horrid nightmares had returned.
Gruesome though the dreams were, it was his warm arms, to have him hold her again, his kiss still burning her lips, that brought a new flood of tears. She woke to grief as strong as the day he was taken, yet knowing he was gone forever. Crossing her arms around her middle, she sank to the floor and let the tears run unchecked. She succumbed to the sobs that overwhelmed her. Oh, Philip.
Her mind clung to the beauty of what was, yet death tainted the corners of every memory.
A door creaked; a warning preceding the footsteps coming down the hall. They stopped outside her door.
“El?” The soft voice of her brother called to her.

Chapter 1
Zeke fought to keep his eyes open, though he moved his head in rhythm to the song he whistled. He had memorized all five verses to the new folk song “My Western Home” and annoyed his adopted family with it repeatedly.
The tune did little to pass the time today. Nebraska was endless. Grassland for all eternity. Mile after mile, forever and ever and always. Three weeks had taken him only halfway across the state. He’d been advised to take the train. Three weeks ago, traveling by horse had appealed to him as the adventure of a lifetime. But now the expanse of the endless sky only mocked him.
There was a fascinating beauty in its emptiness to be sure. Moving to the edge of Iowa with the Donnely family last year introduced him to western life—it also sparked his desire to keep moving west. As far as he could go. He wouldn’t stop until he fell into the ocean.
Another yawn stretched his sun-browned and dust-covered face. It was embarrassing how tired a man could be from doing nothing all day. Well, not embarrassing exactly since there was nobody else around. He wondered where Suzy Girl would take him if he fell asleep.
Probably nowhere. She was a lazy horse he’d bought from a farmer in Iowa only four weeks ago. Given the chance, she would find a shaded patch of new grass near a creek and live happily ever after. In hindsight, he should have asked a bit more why she went for the low price.
“Sing, Hooooo!” He called out to the prairie.
The prairie didn’t answer. He continued singing unchecked.
"Oh, give me a home,
Where the buffalo roam,
And the deer and antelope play.
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not clouded all day."
He drawled out each word and switched to a whistle for the chorus until he lost interest halfway.
When he’d imagined his life out west, he hadn’t considered the isolation of traveling alone. For three weeks, he’d followed streams, railroads, and bumpy paths from town to town. The next town should be beyond the next rise, or the next one. Three days ago, he’d looked at a map that someone had nailed to the wall of the diner and discovered he could trim five miles if he left the main road and cut straight to Ockelbo, a Swedish settlement with a population near a thousand. A town that size would have employment opportunities. Which he needed since his money and food supplies had dwindled. Again.
There was evidence of smoke some distance beyond the creek where it curved ahead. He would keep heading toward it and hope for the best. This prairie, though, the empty loneliness was enough to drive him out of his mind.
Suzy Girl slowed to a plodding pace, but Zeke hardly minded. Grass, grass, and more grass was all he could see.
“Hey, horse. Can you imagine living without eyelids?” Anyone’s voice, even his own, was a pleasant sound these days. A few weeks of travel and he was ready to rethink his whole life plan. “Fish don’t even have ‘em. I think. Maybe. Do fish have eyelids? If they do, I’ve never seen’em. Frogs have extra.” He’d handled enough of those for close inspection.
Suzy Girl dipped her head to snag a bite and slowed again. Zeke popped open his eyes. “Hey! What do you take me for? I didn’t say it was snack time. Keep on, girl. Let’s go.” She turned her head to look back at him with one large brown eye. She blinked and snorted before picking up her walk. “See, if you didn’t have eyelids, how would you so expertly express yourself?”
She ignored him.
“I know you can hear me.” He clicked his tongue and slapped the reins, but his heart wasn’t in it.
And she seemed to know it.
After another half-mile of silence, Zeke filled his lungs and was about to burst into an encore when he heard it.
Splashing. And giggling?
The noise grabbed his attention, though he wasn’t near enough to see the water through the scraggly line of trees. Zeke did not see a settlement nor a homestead, but the sloping hills could hide a town a quarter mile away if a man didn’t know where to look. Which he didn’t.
“We’re not alone, Suzy Girl. Think we should check it out?” She didn’t respond.
“Good plan. Me too.”
As he came into the brush where the prairie met the creek, he flipped the reins over a branch of the nearest cottonwood. The splashing continued, and he heard a woman’s voice.
“Ope! Was it cold? Here goes. Weeee!” She laughed again and Zeke wondered if this woman was deranged.
“Suzy Girl, guard my back, will ya?” The horse snorted and picked at the lush green grass. “Wonderful. I knew I could count on you.” With a pat against her neck, he left her there.
He was pushing aside the low hanging branches when a scream froze him mid-step. Instantly reaching for his gun and searching for danger, he scanned the creek. A steep bank separated him from the sandy creek bed. Other bushes and shrubs grew around the water’s edge. Looking below, he took in everything quickly. He was confused by the blue cloth hanging from a tree root waving in the breeze.
A woman stood knee-high in the water and held a naked baby as if to use him as a shield. Her arms were wrapped around his middle, hugging him close to her chest. Baby arms and baby legs wiggled, trying to get back into the water to play. Her eyes, on the other hand, large and serious, did not waver. Staring at him, she froze. Her brown hair hung loose down her back, and her pale arms were bare. The skin of her shoulders was visible through her wet underclothes. The child cried out; he begged to be released from the iron case of her arms. The thin muslin of her shift and pantaloons was plastered tightly to her legs, leaving little hidden. The woman’s face was quickly turning bright red.
Ah, I’m the reason for the scream.
Apparently, she was not expecting company. She shivered in the Nebraska wind. The sun shone brightly, but spring was still new. The baby was unafraid and continued to windmill his arms and legs all around. One chubby hand flapped up and down at him. Both she and Zeke stood still, staring at each other for a few more seconds. He scratched his scalp under the side of his Stetson. He guessed he did look a little gruff these days. A bath would have been a good idea before entering a town.
“Stay back!” She dropped into the water, scrambling away as best she could with the boy in her arms.
Zeke paused and cocked his head at the sight. Good grief. He hadn’t meant to frighten her. Here he was, yearning for company, for some other human voice, and the first one he sees screams at him. He holstered the gun. Raising both hands as a sign of peace, he planted his feet. A squall from the child sliced through the air.
“It’s okay!” Zeke said. “I’m terrible sorry to come across you this way, if you wouldn’t mind just—”
“Go away!”
He’d seen that look in her eyes in wild animals before. In startled chipmunks. And rabbits. He had once seen a chipmunk turn so quickly it bounced right off the nearest tree. His laughter rang out when he pictured a half-dressed wet chipmunk holding a naked baby.
She was furious.
“No! I’m sorry,” he said. “Please don’t be frightened. I’ll stay over here, promise.”
She grabbed a handful of wet pebbles and threw them in his direction. They showered the ground near his feet. Her chin jutted out in defiance. Braver than a chipmunk.
“You should not be here,” she said.
She was right. What was he thinking? Suddenly he felt like the greatest cad this side of the Mississippi. He spun around and turned his back to her. “How’s this?” he asked. Another shower of pebbles bounced off his boots. Dutifully, he covered his eyes with his hands and turned slowly back to her. “See? I’m not looking. I can’t see a thing. Ma’am? Miss? I’m not intruding, but I heard a noise. Just passing through. Funny thing happened, actually, maybe if you’d just like to point me to the nearest town.”
“What’s the matter with you!” she said. “Leave me alone!” A fist of pebbles rained on his chest and neck, a few settled on the top of his wide-brimmed hat.
Her aim was improving.
He kept his eyes covered and ducked. “Okay! Okay! I’m going.” He turned his back to her again, hands on his face, when more pelted him. “Would you stop that? Don’t you listen? I said I was leaving.”
His foot slipped off the edge of the bank. Caught off guard and distracted by flying pebbles, Zeke tumbled onto the gravel by the water’s edge. The girl screamed again as he fell. His arms and legs flailed about and he landed in a heap, headfirst. Cold gravel pressed into his cheek.
He didn’t move. Ow! That’s one way to get her attention. If he stood and climbed the bank without speaking, maybe he could forget this whole miserable encounter had ever happened. Slowly, he uncrumpled himself and lay on his back with one forearm tossed over his face. His heart pounded in his forehead. He would get up. Soon. He just needed another minute to catch his breath.
Great. Now I’ve bashed in my head. You really know how to impress the ladies, Zeke. I don’t know how you’ve remained unmarried this long . . . it’s probably the horse. No woman wants a man with a lazy horse.
More splashing signaled her return across the water. She was no longer running away or throwing rocks.
He groaned. She probably felt sorry for him now that he was wounded, blind, and ridiculous. He didn’t need her help. He’d be on his way. Just as soon as he could get up. He attempted to stand.
“Please,” she said, “sit and rest a moment. You’re bleeding.” “Yup.” Zeke slumped back against the bank in a more refined position. Keeping his face downcast from her, he gathered his wits. His head throbbed. And he wasn’t sure where the blood came from, but it was on his hands.
Fell off the stupid bank.
Nothing’s broken.
Mostly naked girl standing nearby.
Her bare feet sank into the pebbles, and the water caressed her ankles. Not that he noticed. He didn’t know where to look now that she stood right next to him. Suddenly, her face appeared in front of his, and she looked directly into his eyes. She still held the baby close to her chest.
“You okay?” she said. “You have blood all over your face.” Zeke stared at his hands. They were covered in mud, bits of grass, and some blood. “I’m sorry.” He looked at her, then turned his eyes toward the creek, the trees, the bank, the clouds, and anywhere else but her. And then he started talking.
“I’m Ezekiel. Zeke. People call me Zeke. Ezekiel James. Whatever you want. My mother used to call me Zekey James, which is just kinda weird if you ask me. Which you didn’t, I mean, you asked me to leave. Earlier. Which I didn’t. But I was—I would have—I was. Leaving. I was leaving. I didn’t mean to, I tried not to, I wasn’t even looking. I mean, I looked some, just because I came across you so suddenly on accident.” Shut up, Zeke. Stop. Talking. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Why don’t you stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.” She adjusted her shift, pulling at it so it flowed over her backside. She put the baby in the sand a few feet away from the water. Finding the end of a rope, she tied it securely around his waist. The other end was already tied to the nearest tree.
The baby scrunched up his face and stuck out a lip, then noticed a bag near him and began pulling all the things out of it. “Naa? Naa?” “Yes,” she answered. “It’s in there.” By the time she snatched the bag from him, he had dumped half of the contents out. A brush and hairpins lay scattered at the boy’s feet. “Here.” She handed him a large muffin, and he sat down to eat it.
Reaching for her dress and stealing a glance back at Zeke, she hid behind some shrubs. Zeke felt his face warm and pretended to be interested in looking downstream.
“Hi!” the baby called to him.
Zeke smiled and waved his hand. “Hi.” It was the best he could do while keeping his other hand pressed against the cut on his forehead.
The girl returned, damp but dressed, and leveled her eyes at him with her chin held high. She didn’t trust him. He found that ironic, given that he was the one who fell on his face trying to get away from her. He turned his head. How much more could he humble himself in this situation? She swished something in the water and came toward him, stopping a yard away.
“I don’t understand you,” she said.
“Well,” he said slowly, “I was just as surprised as you. I need to ask; like I said, I’m lost, and you’re the first person I’d seen in a while. When I set off, I was told Ockel-something was only a day’s long ride.” He waved his hand toward the west. “That way. And then you and your baby threw rocks at me and pushed me off the bank.” He flashed a cheeky grin at her.
She didn’t find humor in it. Instead of smiling, she shoved a wet rag at him. “Here. Let’s see how badly you hit your head. And you look terrible.”
“Thank you. The bleeding has stopped, I think. I’ll mend.” He patted his face gingerly and then washed the dirt and mess from the rest of his face, neck, and hands. The rag turned brown.
“There is a town,” she said in a measured tone, holding his gaze, “downstream a few miles. Keep following the creek, and you’ll find a bridge. You can’t miss it. Don’t mind the rag; I’ll wash it. You can be on your way.” She took the stained rag from his outstretched hand. “I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured when you . . . fell.”
He stood, testing his legs. Everything was functioning again. He tipped his hat. “Ma’am.” Without looking at her again, he climbed the bank with as much dignity as the situation allowed. He grappled for roots, and sand gave way beneath his feet. His ears burned, knowing she was standing there watching his backside. Reaching the top, he strode through the dry grass to his horse. She waited patiently where he’d left her. She snorted a greeting as she munched the grass around the bit.
“Hey, Suzy Girl, you’ll never believe what just happened to me.” She ducked her head and then knocked his hat off with her nose. “Real smart. Clever. Just because you had to stay up here and eat the best grass you’ve had all day doesn’t mean you can mistreat me.” With a grunt, he swung into the saddle.
“Come on, girl. We’re on the right trail.” He nudged with his heel, and she walked through the brush into the open prairie again. “When you have time later, I’ll tell you all about the chipmunk I met playing in the creek today.”
Suzy Girl dipped her head again.
The sky was empty and blue. The sun was shining with the freshness of spring. The day was looking up. Despite his humiliating meeting.
He smiled, thinking of the woman’s concern when she’d knelt in front of him. It was sweet. Unnecessary. But sweet. It had been a while since anyone cared whether or not he had blood on his face. Her deep blue eyes showed strength. Her soft round cheeks held a blush of color on each side. He pictured her mess of brown hair, wet and dripping onto her dress.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts,pushing aside images of the girl. He reminded himself how glad he was to be free, strong, and independent, while shoving aside all other thoughts of her. Especially how her legs appeared through her wet underclothes or the water swirling around her ankles. He thought instead of the ocean and how the waves would look cresting and falling. He’d read before the waves could be taller than a man.
With the wind pushing at his back and the promise of a bed and real food for dinner, he couldn’t help but laugh at the sky for his good fortune. “Hy-aw!” he said to Suzy Girl, kicking in his heels.
She seemed to feel his shift in attitude more than his verbal command, and when he urged her again, she leaped forward and they sped across the prairie.

Chapter 2
The wind increased, bringing with it the chill of the evening as dusk settled on the prairie. Zeke shivered and pulled his overcoat tighter. Faint outlines of the homes came into view. The sun eased into the west and made quaint silhouettes of each building. He followed a narrow walking path leading into the edge of town.
Squinting in the fading light, he looked for a Main Street. The path from the creek was not the main road. Or a road at all. He trudged through the outskirts of town, leading his horse. He yearned for a real bed, but he needed a livery—hopefully adjoined to a smithy and farrier. And ideally, all of this would be near a warm supper.
He complained aloud in a high falsetto. “‘A few miles downstream,’ she said. ‘You’ll find the bridge,’ she said. ‘Can’t miss it,’ she said.” Heavens and stars and all things holy, if I don’t find a warm dinner tonight, I’ll know who to blame.
He looked up. “Sorry God, you know I don’t mean it.” Except maybe he did this time. The events of the past few hours had put him in a sour mood. Blasted chipmunk.
That afternoon, Suzy Girl had joyfully galloped through the grass for near three miles before she ran out of steam. The haze of smoke he’d been riding toward was now behind him. There was no way the girl had toted the toddler this far. Though her family likely lived on a homestead.
He must have missed the bridge already. After a quick turn, he headed back the way he’d come. That’s when he noticed something wrong with Suzy Girl’s gait. An examination revealed a missing shoe.
“I’m sorry, Girl.” He rubbed her shoulder and leaned into her. “We’ll get you fixed up.” Taking the reins, he led her back along the creek, pushing through the undergrowth and searching carefully for anything that could be considered a bridge. They traveled back two miles at this slow pace when he saw a string of large rocks crossing the creek. Certainly, this isn’t a bridge. But it was the most obvious crossing that included a lower bank on each side to accommodate an easy descent to the creek bed.
“This is spiteful. If a man asked you to point the way, would you tell him this is a bridge? No. You would not. You would never set out to intentionally misdirect a starving, lonely, incredibly handsome, courteous, witty . . .” He ran out of adjectives. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
Suzy nuzzled his shoulder and snorted.
“I don’t need your sympathy. In fact, I’m the one feeling sorry for you. You hear?” Zeke’s stomach answered this time. He groaned at the thought of eating beans and hardtack again. The afternoon sprint had been fueled by his visions of dinner.
He now stared at the line of rocks and pictured himself seated at a table with a full plate of fried chicken. Freshly baked biscuits on the side. The kind with the crust that flaked all over the plate. Still warm from the oven, with butter melting off the edge. There’d be a heap of green beans and mashed potatoes. After scraping his plate clean, he would order a slice or two of apple pie. Or raspberry or cherry. Any kind would do.
At twenty years old, he knew better than to lick the plate. Only little boys who knew their mothers weren’t looking would lick the plate. Very little boys.
Unless the pie was warmed with the gooey insides that spread across the plate, and if there just happened to be ice cream to melt on top of it, and if perhaps he wasn’t in a very fancy establishment and there weren’t too many people about.
Without waiting for his lead, Suzy Girl pushed past him, yanking the reins from his hand and waded into the water, stopping ping midway to drink her fill.
He picked up the line where it lay on the water and yanked her back. “You think you outrank me? I’m the brains for this outfit. If I say it’s not a bridge, it’s not a bridge. I didn’t say for sure it wasn’t a bridge.” But it’s not a bridge. But it was a crossing. If there was a path on the other side, he would take it. He tugged off his boots and socks and shoved them into the saddlebag. As an afterthought, he unbuckled his gun belt and strapped it to the saddle. Just to be safe. Carefully, he made his way across the rocks with Suzy Girl splashing along beside him.
“Fried chicken,” he told her, “the kind you can sink your teeth into and come away with a bite that melts in your mouth. Crispy. Fresh. Juicy. You can peel the skin off if you want. Eat it first. Breaded and browned to perfection. The inside will be white and tender.” He groaned. “What I would do for some fried chicken right now.” His mouth watered.
Halfway across the creek, an owl hooted directly overhead, startling him out of his dinner dreams. He shot his gaze over his shoulder, searching for the bird that must only be a few feet away. The rock he stood on wobbled, and the movement of the water did nothing to help his balance. His arms flapped at the air, trying to stay on the precarious rock, which wasn’t nearly as sturdy as a bridge. He teetered on the ball of his foot with one heel hanging off and the other leg wild and unsteady.
The horse decided it was a good time to jerk the other way toward the bank. There was no helping it. With a yelp, Zeke jumped. Landing on his feet in knee-high water, he gasped at the cold. Zeke’s leg tangled in the reins, and they pulled tight when Suzy Girl clambered to the side of the creek. All at once, he found himself swept off his feet, submerged in frigid water that stole his breath. Splashing like a wild man, he was unable to keep any part of himself dry. The water rushed over his head and muffled his curse.
Suzy Girl stopped on the high bank and turned to look at him as he floundered.
He sucked in air when he came up before sending all of his frustration at his horse. “Dad-blame it, Suze! You tryna drown me? Sakes alive!” A shiver coursed through him involuntarily from his core to fingers. Irritation welled up, and he hollered accordingly, hitting the water with both hands. He trudged out and stood at the edge. The sand and pebbles pushed between his toes, and water streamed from his hair, down his face. Wiping his sleeve across his eyes, then shaking his arms and hands of the extra drops, he tried to cool his anger. Blowing and spitting the water from his face, he shook his head and flung drops in all directions like a shaggy dog. A tired, hungry, and wet dog.
He yelled at the string of rocks. “My boots are dry!” Heavens, but that water was cold. April was not the season to go swimming, in his opinion, and the afternoon heat had long passed. His trousers clung uncomfortably to his legs. Zeke didn’t relish the idea of swimming fully dressed no matter the season.
He shrugged out of his vest and suspenders and began unbuttoning his shirt. Midway, he paused to wipe the water that continued to drip from his hair and into his eyes. Where’s my hat? Please, don’t let it be gone. A man needed a hat. Scanning along the shore downstream, he spied it in a tangle of branches.
“Suzy Girl,” he began in all seriousness, “you will stay.” After looking her in the eye, he shook his head and tied her to the closest tree. If she decided to wander off in the wrong direction, he was in no mood to go after her. A man needed a horse, and a horse that didn’t mind was better than no horse at all.
Sucking in a breath, he waded back into the cold for his hat. A few minutes later, after drip-drying and changing what he could, he picked out a path through the trees and followed it over a rise in the prairie. From the top, he could view the whole town. Relief flooded him. Thank you, Lord. It was larger than he’d expected. He was arriving from the east. The main road, he could make out, led from south to north.
His hopes of a hot dinner were rapidly fading. He saw no people in the dim light and heard no sounds of village life. The shops were long closed, and folks were retired for the evening.
His head ached from the earlier tumble, and he was wet and muddy. He looked a mess. He was a mess! Days of patchy stubble protruded from his face. It was looking more like a beard every day; if only he could fill it in.
When he found his way to the livery, he was greeted by Frank—a balding man whose white beard made up for any hair that was missing from his head. He refused to negotiate a lower boarding fee.
“I’ll take no less than three dollars,” the man repeated. Zeke scratched the back of his neck. “For one night? A week maybe would be fair for that amount. But I’ll not pay it for a night. That’s downright robbery.” Not to mention he didn’t have it. And even if he did, he wouldn’t spend it boarding a horse and starve himself.
The man’s stringy whiskers twitched out of the way as he shot a stream of tobacco juice onto the barn floor.
As was Zeke’s habit, he’d saved just enough from the last stop to board them both and buy a few meals on the side with plans to find immediate work before starting west again. He’d begun the journey with limited funds and, for the most part, had enjoyed the eclectic jobs and people he’d met. He knew it would take an eternity to reach the ocean this way, but it was part of the fun for him. Another shot of juice barely missed Zeke’s boots.
“I’m not standing here all night watching you scratch your head,” Frank said.
“Fine.” Zeke sighed. “Can I work for it? I can do anything that needs doing.” There was always work to be done. Three weeks of travel, and he had not been forced to shake the dust from his feet yet.

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