by Robert Clark Nielsen

Chapter Eight

The Night the Law Made Acquisition ©

Justification of Faith

After they had altogether finished eating, Joan took Ann to her room for a quiet word, where she alluded to her own responsibilities of a parent not wanting for her children to turn out to be worthless snobs.

Ann quite understood Joan's concerns, but took Joan by her shoulders and sat her down on the bed. "I don't think that you remember how it feels to have a bubble of anticipation burst just as it's met its zenith, dear.", the elder sister began.

"It seems to me that your oldest girl has been quite preoccupied with your dilemma, 'how to provide', and was relieved and delighted to see that there were bright rays of hope, shining through what she had only envisioned to be an endless dark passage filled with woe and grim disappointment."

"You do tend to be just a bit melodramatic, now and then. Don't you, Ann?" Joan grinned at her older sister, then quickly changed her expression and continued, "I realize that Gemma has given more help than for which I could ask. It's not to worry, for her. But, Jimmy and Jenny are those for whom I am most concerned.

"I would have explained to you my reasoning, but I'll have to have a long talk about this with Gemma. You see, I feel that in some ways, she hasn't quite become the young adult which I need for her to be, in order to..."

"Perhaps you may be surprised." Ann said, as she'd been quite impressed with the way Gemma had rectified the minor 'faux pas', committed earlier that afternoon, and had donned an enormous confidence in her eldest niece, justified or not.

Joan looked at Ann with a sigh and said, "I may be able to share with her my intentions. But, Jimmy is very much a different story. And, he definitely would not have interpreted it well, at all". Joan leaned forward and stood, heading towards the door. "He can be almost as bullheaded as his grandfather, Evans... Ah, not quite so, I suppose."

They had a gentle and controlled laugh as Joan opened the door. Ann made her way over to Jimmy who was in the kitchen, by now, trying to talk Gemma into letting him have the jar of jam she had taken from him, in the act of removing its lid. Ann put her hands to her hips and excailmed, "I don't believe that I've had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of this handsome young gentleman. Gemma, will you be kind enough to introduce me?"

Relieved to be able to avoid a tiny row, Gemma set the jam back onto the shelf, put her arm on his shoulder, pushed him forward toward her, and spoke as though she were introducing a foreign diplomat to the crown princess of England. "Misses Ann Longley. I would like you to meet your nephew, James Broadmoor Evans."

"Jimmy, this is your aunt Ann." Gemma cringed, having formerly called him James. She hadn't imagined that he might actually demonstrate any degree of piety for anyone with whom he was not entirely familiar.

"Hello. You're my auntie Ann?" Jimmy seemed pleasantly curious and offered his hand for Ann to shake. Apparently, he had paid more attention to his father's greetings than Gemma ever had noticed.

Ann widened her eyes and smiled at her nephew. "This is true. And, I'll wager that you prefer to be called Jimmy. Well, it is so nice to meet you, Jimmy."

Shots in the Dark

There was a definite thud on the side of the work shop and Joan said she could hear the sound of horses coming up the lane toward the cabin.

She looked out of the window to the east just in time to see the figure of a man running to the south, around behind the work shop. And, another man stopping his horse, just before he got to the cedars on the south side of the same building.

A single shot was heard and it sounded like it had come from the man who was on foot, way back to the south.

The man on the horse drew his side arm and fired twice, up toward the west by southwest while two other riders cautiously rode up beside the man who had just fired his gun.

There was some talking outside, that no one in the cabin was able to make out, and the man who had ridden up lastly, dismounted and began slowly walking toward the front of the cabin.

No one in the cabin he had seen anyone since the first rider because when they heard the shots fired, Joan had ordered everyone down onto the floor.

Soon, there was the clunking of one pair of boots on the porch and a voice called out, "Mrs. Evans, I'm Douglas Ratliff, Montezuma county deputy sheriff, ma'am. I was at your husband's funeral. I'm sorry I didn't offer my condolences, ma'am. But, you may still recognize me. I was at the funeral. But, I couldn't to attend the grave's dedication. I had to stay in town, there. Just in case some of them miners might cause trouble. None of them did, ma'am. I understand that Carl Johnson said a mighty fine dedication."

Joan slowly opened the door and saw the badge on the man's chest, after which she opened it wide and invited him to come in.

"I really shouldn't do that, ma'am. The sheriff just asked me to let you know that..."

The deputy looked into the cabin and saw the other woman and the children. He suddenly stopped speaking and looked down at his feet, reviewing that which he had just said, trying to analyze if he had spoken anything that may have been disturbing to children of tender years.

Joan quickly understood what it was that he must have been thinking and stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. She put her forefinger to her lips, tugged on the man's coat as she walked along the porch, looking into the window, and motioning for Jimmy to get down off of Gemma's bed.

She stepped off the porch and walked over to the wood bin. "They should not be able to overhear us, if we won't speak too loudly. My sister is here, from Gloucester, England and, besides the children, I don't want for her to hear too much and become alarmed, either."

"That's good to hear, ma'am. But, there ain't no reason to be alarmed, now. The sheriff shot the man we were after. I'm afraid he might a' killed him. Oh. I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to be so blunt."

"That's quite alright, deputy. I am fine. What has the man done, or is said to have done?", Joan said, fighting back a sick feeling and clinching her fists, trying to keep her blood pressure up.

"Oh, he's done it, alright. My brother shot the horse out from under him and he dropped the money from the bank, and his gun, too. Sounded like all he had up there was a little derringer, or somethin'."

"Not the bank in Durango!" Joan felt her knees suddenly weakening.

"No. You wouldn't be thinking' he'd gotten this far. Do ya? He just robbed the little bank, we got there in Mancos.", he said. "Have you got people in Durango, you know?" The deputy squinted his eyes and pulled back his head. He tried to make it his business, whating to know who knew whom, and what it was that they were doing.

"No." she said, and then hesitated. "Well, my brother-in-law is in Durango, just overnight. But, we expect him in on the train, tomorrow morning."

Happy to hear of an opportunity to help, the deputy finally removed his hat, offered to watch out for him, and see to it that he knew the way out to the cabin.

"It is very nice of you to offer, Mister Ratliff. But, I thought that we should make the trip into town to greet him, when he arrives."

It was almost completely dark now, but Joan could see that the young deputy didn't have a wedding ring on his left hand. And his smile was that of a very interested young man. Too young, Joan thought to herself. 'He could not even be twenty-one, yet.', she candidly thought to herself.

"I'll look out for you, to see there's no trouble, while you're there. If you won't mind, ma'am" He looked up on the porch to find that there was another woman noticing his inordinate cheeriness, which put a redness to his face that he unconsciously tried to erase by several muscular contractions that did nothing more than amuse both women to smirking, unavoidable smiles.

As he quickly bowed his head, he said "Howdy, ma'am", and put his hat back on his head.

He walked stiffly over to his horse, mounted, hurriedly rode toward the east as he tipped his hat, and said, "Thank you, ma'am. Nice to met 'cha, both."

On the other side of the work shop, the sheriff and Jerry Ratliff were riding the sheriff's horse, as they had the dead outlaw strung over the back of Jerry's horse.

"Watch!... where you're headin' that animal, Doug.", the sheriff said loudly. "Whoa. Whoa-ho-ho. Easy. Easy, boy. Doug's just got a head-a steam without a vent nor a valve. Good boy. That's a good boy. It's okay, now. You alright, Jerry?"

"Yes sir, Sheriff. Landed flat on my feet. No problems. Was that Doug, tried to run us down?", Jerry grinned

"I didn't try to run ya down, Jerry. I was just trying to get out there to try to help, fast as I could. Sorry I took so long, sheriff." Doug said and gave his brother a hand up onto his horse.

The sheriff had to stop a chuckle before he began to speak. "Someone might-a gotten hurt if your face hadn't been glowin' like a red hot coal. The look of ya scared your brother right off-a the back-a this horse.

"Thought you was a demon. Or, Rudolf the red-nosed reign deer, run into a wall." This one got Jerry and the sheriff both into a good belly laugh.

Unfortunately, it was at Doug's expense. He turned his horse, meaning to ride off without him, when the sheriff took heart and said, "Hold on there, deputy. I'm not quite finished. Obviously you spoke to someone. Who was it?"

He stopped his horse, turned a little more than 45 degrees, and said, "It was Misses Evans, sir. She had everyone down on the floor. I told her that the culprit was likely dead. Looks like I was right. She has someone coming in on the train from Durango, tomorrow. She didn't say what business he had. But, it sounded to me like he was family. I said I'd look for him and tell him where the place is and she said they'd likely be comin' into town to meet the train. 'An, I said I'd watch out for them while they was in town. That's all."

"Almost." His brother had to get in one more dig.

"She's very beautiful, yeah. Doug said adamantly. "I've never seen her up, so close. I'm sorry that I took so long." He looked a little white now, as the half moon rose in the sky.

The sheriff appreciated Doug's honesty. He always had. Even Jerry would not have admitted to so much. He thought that he should offer a piece of advice, though, along with the recognition of good service. "You've done a good job, today, Doug. I appreciate your sharp eyes and tracking abilities. Thank you. And, the next time you get to gettin' twiterpated, just say something' to the woman, get on with it, and come back some other time when you finish your job. That sound right?" The sheriff made his way past Doug's horse and left Jerry to ride with his brother, starting out down the lane.

Even though Doug didn't feel that his advice actually had applied in this case, he quickly said, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Jerry mounted and they rode off, down the lane, and along the road into town.

Joan and Ann had waited in the open door to wave to them as they left, but the men didn't turn to look.

Ann gave her sister a look which blithely decried irreverence to Ben's homage. She thought the moon sufficient to exhibit her disdain, but Joan simply didn't care for her sister's derision at the moment. It was so like her to blame Joan for a misconstruence on someone else's part. And, it was an assuming attitude, in the first place.

Joan carefully returned the firing hammer on the revolver to its safety position and walked back into the cabin.

Ann's bewilderment had been noted in Joan's peripheral sight and, if she'd not been exhausted by the events which had recently taken place, she may have jovially bantered it about with Ann. But, not right now.

She placed the pistol back up onto the shelf where it had been set when Ben first brought it home for Joan to use for protection in 'the wilder parts of the world' as it had been referred to, by Joan.

When first they had moved out there, Joan had been quite nervous and afraid of some of the more unkempt, noxious looking

individuals around town and on their way to their new home who, sometimes, wouldn't even acknowledge by a wave nor a hello as they passed them on the rode. As a remedy, Ben had purchased a quality, light sidearm and a holster belt for Joan.

One day, she fastened it around her waist and tried practicing a quick draw, nearly frightening Ben to the loss of his hair. The gun wasn't loaded, but there was no way for Ben to have known.

Needless to say, he set about teaching Joan and Gemma the safe and proper use of firearms, that very day. And, he made a shelf where it could be kept out of Jimmy's reach and out of sight of any stranger, candidly peering through the window.

Joan quite justifiably expected Ann to say something about the weapon as she turned to see her sister, seating herself in the large over-stuffed chair.

Ann had a look of dismay, almost as though she had abandoned any chance of offering advice, or even help, to a once overly-reliant younger sibling. It caused Ann to be a bit remorseful, recalling so many of the times that she had not been as tolerant as she would now like to remember herself as having been.

She was reflecting upon her mother's patience, trying to explain to her that Joan hadn't had the kinds of experiences that had benefitted Ann, at that point in time.

She could still hear her saying, "Annie, you are so fortunate. You have been upon this earth for almost a thousand days longer than your younger sister. If you don't care to share such a great advantage with someone for whom I have just as great a love as I have for you, it is your prerogative. This saddens me, lass. But, please, don't be so angry with her for wanting to know better than she does and asking questions. How else is she to learn? She has such a great desire to be like you. You will always be chronologically the same years older, but take heart, it will diminish by degrees as you live on, you'll see".

Nonetheless, Ann had lived almost the first fifteen years of Joan's life thinking that her little sister was nearly intolerably dense. That is, until older sister went out into the working world and met a few people who actually were as thick as mud fences; then, she was much more willing to want to help the young, vulnerable, and still quite naive, blossoming protégée, someone whom she had learned was such an integral part of her life, who had been, by her, so thoughtlessly neglected, to be guided how to get on in life.

Tonight, Ann had witnessed her Mersey river jewel walk outside with a loaded pistol under a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, flirted with by a stranger who introduced himself through a closed door, a man who spoke to a recently widowed woman as though she were a school girl; then, she had walked in, and had set the gun up on a shelf, without, first, having unloaded it.

"Joan, I think it might be a good idea for you to unload that..."

"Ann, may I have a word with you in the other room? And, I would like for you children to get ready for bed. Your aunt and I will be out to have a prayer in just a few minutes. Sound good to you, Gemma, love? Jimmy? We shall only be a short while."

Joan picked Jenny up from her crib, motioned for Ann with her head, and went into the bed room, holding onto the door nob, waiting for her sister.

Ann meekly crept into the bedroom as though she were to receive a ton of bricks on the head at any moment. She felt more like laying down and going to sleep. She thought, 'It was only a suggestion. I wasn't really trying to tell you how to run your household'.

"Well, I'm hoping that you won't thrash about," Joan began, "like you did when we would go to visit auntie Jen. I prefer to sleep there, where you're sitting. So, I hope you don't mind the inside. I may have to get up to take the baby warm bottle.

"Oh, about the gun, Ann. I can't very well ask the Indians to wait just a few moments for me to load the gun, before they begin the attack. I think it's best to just keep it out of Jimmy's reach, don't you?"

To this, Ann tacitly agreed, and that, with a sigh of relief.

The two sisters both smiled brightly as they vacated the privacy of the bedroom and got down onto their knees, next to Gemma's bed. Gemma came and approached them carefully. Her mother turned and took her in her arms. Jimmy hesitated until Ann sat down onto the floor, and had to shift herself, before she could get a hold of him.

Joan asked Ann to say the prayer.

Ann thanked the Lord for their families, their safety, and their many blessings. She prayed that He would watch after them in the coming week and especially after her husband as he traveled to meet them, in the morning. She closed the prayer in the Saviors name and said, "Amen".

The children had wanted to make a good impression on their aunt Ann. They had put on their night clothes while the women had their conversation, due to a suggestion that Gemma happened to offer, earlier on.

The two women said goodnight to the children and Joan asked Gemma to tend to the fire before she went to sleep.

La Langue Impressionnant (Impressive Language)

Gemma lay down for quite a while, thinking of the exciting news they had heard and were not quite able to see. She had almost dozed off, when her aunt tried to creep out through the front room and out the front door, to get the small suitcase that she had forgotten, tied onto the horses saddle.

As she returned, Ann silently opened the front door and was a little surprised to see Gemma setting wood onto the fire. She whispered, almost undetectably, "Forgot my night clothes... Sorry".

"Oh, don't worry about waking Jimmy.", Gemma said in a quiet voice. "We have had to pick him up and set him on his feet to rouse him before six o'clock, ante meridian."

She was showing off her understanding of the Latin abbreviation, a.m., for before noon. Gemma missed her opportunity to learn Latin in a proper school and she had borrowed her mother's Latin text books, to teach herself.

"Well, your mother is not such a heavy sleeper." She came close to Gemma, to be able to be understood, as she softly as she whispered. "She always hated latin, your mother."

Following Ann's example, Gemma brought down her voice a bit more. "I understand that you have quite a passion for latin and several other romantic languages."

"Oh, Gemma, dear. I used to, really. But, there's not much call for latin in Gloucester.

"There for a while, I spoke Spanish with a woman, from Migorca, Spain, who had married a man, working on the docks, down on the Severn. She soon insisted that we speak only english. You know how the British dislike foreigners.

"One day, I hadn't seen her for a weeks time, and I asked, 'Cómo sta, Señora?' She gave me a very frightened look and almost ran as she crossed to the other side of the street.

"I was so hurt, until I later witnessed two young men, trying to beat up this Frenchman who was yelling, 'Arrêt, arrêt. Je seulment voudrais à chercez pour un plaçe à manger. J'ai beaucoups d'argent.' Well, let's just say that his language became less and less respectful. And, he ended up giving them both a good thrashing."

Gemma's eyes had become larger with each word that Ann had spoken. "What did the frenchman say?" She had a particularly insatiable thirst for the french language.

"Oh, french is very latin in the origin of most of its words. He said something like, 'Stop, stop. I just want to find somewhere to eat. I have plenty of money'. I think they were trying to rob him. You could hear the coins, jingling in his pockets. He wasn't very smart in that respect. But, he could sure fight, well enough.

I thought that he would turn those two, inside out. He left them, moaning and groaning."

Gemma could see a glint of admiration in her eyes which she found a bit hard to understand, but her thirst for knowledge was overwhelming. "Do you have any text books on latin?"

"I shall send you enough text books to get you up to university level. I'll even mail you a book on the french language, later on. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful. Thank you, aunt Ann."

"Hush, now. Young lady..." Ann had to yawn. "You feed that fire and get some sleep." She yawned again and stood up to go to bed.

Gemma jostled her aunt's hand, as Ann began to walk away, and whispered, "Merci, beaucoup. Ma belle tante". Which is to say, thank you, very much. My beautiful aunt.

"Pas mal, ma cherie. Maintenant, bon nuit." This means, 'Not bad, darling. Now, good night. She gave Gemma a stern, smiling glance and went in to change.

Gemma tried to be careful and quiet as she put in four good sized pieces of wood. She pinched her arm, holding the wood so tightly, abruptly squeaked, and quieted herself, clinching her teeth.

She heard her mother laugh softly and this relaxed her immensely. She eased herself into her bed and was asleep in five minutes.

The gift of her aunts visit had made her feel a little like it was already Christmas.

Teusday, November 24, 1896

Gemma woke to find that the air was colder than it had been for the past few days. She knelt up onto her bed to look out the window only to see that the sun had not yet risen.

It was one of those mornings after which when she actually had restfully slept. Whenever this would occur, Gemma would recount the events of the day before to try to discover the cause of her peace of mind. Today, it was not difficult to understand her mental ease.

She quickly threw off her night gown, put on her jeans, and an old red cotton shirt, comfortable wear for walk outside in the crisp morning air.

After shoveling some ashes out of the fire, she set kindling onto the hot coals and opened the damper a bit more. She put a few of the quartered pieces of wood onto the smoldering sticks and gently blew into its smoky recesses until the tiny flames flared up.

She found her coat and carefully opened the door without a sound. It was very cold. She decided on her riding boots which had served her well, out chopping fire wood with her father, one snowy morning. Quickly, she stepped back into the cabin and shivered while she looked under her bed.

"Good morning, Gemma, dear.", Her mother said as she shuffled into the kitchen to get water into the kettle. "Are you planning on taking a walk?"

"I thought that I would. Is that alright?"

"Yes, dear. But could you please help me to move this water pot over to the fire. There hasn't enough snow melted during the night to make our breakfast. That's a good girl."

Gemma was so pleased that she almost fell, trying to get into the kitchen. "Yes, ma'am. Shall I get some more snow in there, or will it hold any?"

"No, there seems to be enough. The train isn't due into Mancos, until 11 o'clock. But, I should think that it will take almost two hours to ride in the wagon. So, don't take too long for your walk. I don't want for you to have to miss eating breakfast."

Joan was only about an inch away from telling her that she had planned to stop by the school while they were in town to see if they might be resuming classes, next week after the thanksgiving holiday; but, it occurred to Joan, that it wasn't just a matter of fact, to Gemma, that Ann wouldn't be there to visit too much longer than a fortnight and that may tend to ruin a young girls early morning chat with nature. "If you're looking for your riding boots, you can find them outside on the front porch, where you took them off.", She said as she turned the other handle toward her daughter, who was been looking in every hidden corner of the front room.

"Oh. Sorry. I was thinking they would be warmer than these slippers." Gemma humphed, umphed, and tried to act as though she were stronger than the pot was heavy. Surely, there was enough

snow to melt for breakfast, in there.

"You could try on those button-up boots, again. I think you may have grown into them, by now." Joan took a deep breath and raised both shoulders in uncertainty.

Gemma hated those old things. Her grandmother Stewart had handed them down to her when Gemma had just learned to read. And, the fact that Joan had kept them all this time was enough for Gemma to know that they meant quite a lot. Gemma knew that when she grew into them, she had better put them to some use. So many times had she thought of giving them a toss, and claiming that she didn't known what on earth had happened to them.

But that would be a lie and she never would forget the thundering sermon she had heard, about where it was that people went who lied, which stopped her every time she was tempted.

"Let's give them a try. Do you know where the buttoning hook can be found?", Gemma asked.

"It's right here, on the top shelf of the pantry." Joan reached up, not even having to look, took it, and handed it to her. Gemma almost moaned, but suppressed it to keep up the harmony they had enjoyed. "Those boots are right here, on the bottom shelf of my wardrobe." She looked up at the clock as she rolled over her bed. It was already 5:30. If she could manage to leave by 6:00, she would still have a good two hours before breakfast, she hoped.

"Here they are."

Her wardrobe was in the northwest corner of the cabin, behind her bed, and the floor was so cold that her slippers were chilly to the touch when she took them off. "Do you think that I should try another pair of stockings, along with these?"

Joan was almost to the point where she was becoming impatient. "Give the boots a try, first. Your feet look, to me, like they could just about fill those boots, now. Give them a try, Gemma. The truth is, that I would like for your aunt to see them on you. I have often told her that your feet remind me of our mother's and..."

Gemma had put on the left boot and gasped as though she found the fit hard to believe.

Joan had always known, or had a pretty strong feeling, that, once her daughter grew in stature, they would fit perfectly. "Let me feel the toes, girl. Then we'll know for sure.

"Hmm. Put on the other one and let's see them buttoned up." Joan felt her toes in the other boot and let out a high squeal. She took the hook from Gemma and began to put it into each hole, pull out the button, and wiggling each button.

Gemma had been sitting in front of the fire and once her mother had finished buttoning them she stood up and got herself out of the heat. Walking to the other side of the room and back to warm her other side, Gemma had begun to appreciate the feel of those boots and she looked at her mother with her mouth open in disbelief. "Never have I had on a pair of boots, or shoes, for that matter, that fitted me so well as these."

Her mother's tears streamed down from off her cheeks onto the floor. She sat down in Ben's large over-stuffed chair and cried.

Gemma came to her mother, put her hands on her shoulder, and said, "You've always said that I was just like her. And now we know that this is true". She thought to herself, 'I'll grow right out of them in another six months and we will both have a really good memory to enjoy. And, mine shall be getting rid of them'.

"You go on ahead and have a nice walk, Gemma." Joan sniffed and said, "I need to be alone, right now. Don't worry, I'll be alright. You just go on ahead."

Gemma knew that what her mother was doing was grieving her father's absence. She wanted to stay and hold her until she felt much, much better. But, one thing that she had learned about her mother, was that you can trust that whatever she says shall be the truth.

Gemma found herself wishing that her aunt would come along on her walk. "Alright, mother. I'll be back, soon."

Joan waved to her daughter and continued to cry.

Out in the Open

Gemma closed the door behind her as though she might awaken her mother taking a short nap.

She planned only to walk down to the road to town and then straight back talk to her mother, to see that she was alright. But, when she arrived at the place that she and the boys from Webber had cut off to get the horses, she followed their steps out to where she first beheld the beautiful glen.

She stood there, ingesting the scene, thinking about how her mother felt and how she, herself, felt about her father's passing. And, it caused her to understand, a little better, why Ann's visit had meant so much to her and her mother. To trust someone to feel the things you do, or to try, with all their might, to understand you and why it is that you feel the way that you do. Only with your family, can you feel this way. And, one of them was gone.

Gemma began to cry, now. She soon found a rock upon which she sat and she cried her heart out. She cried until it hurt to cry. Until, it really hurt.

Then, Gemma stopped crying. She soon realized that it didn't hurt so bad, anymore. Oh, it still hurt, but it was no longer the kind of hurting that convinced you that it never would cease, ever. It had taken on a more finite attribute.

Emotionally, Gemma had felt as though she had been in the middle of a long dark cave and could not possibly find her way to the outside. Now, she felt as though she could see some light shining in from the outside. The air had become more comfortable to breath and smelled so much sweeter, rich with life sustaining oxygen.

She now had a direction which she felt that she could follow.

She took one last look at the beautiful scene and walked up into the trees toward her home. She now took pleasure in touching the leaves, the branches, and the trunks of the trees.

Gemma slipped in some snow and almost fell down. She caught herself, though, and regained her balance, just barely. Although, her laughter made it a little more difficult. Oh, she wished so much that she could share this with her mother. She might, perhaps, when Joan had arrived at the opening of her metaphorical cave.

A thought suddenly came to her.'I wasn't married to daddy. He was my father, not my husband.' "I am sure there is a difference. Even if I had not been told by quite a few people with whom I have deep and abiding faith and trust. I just know it."

Gemma turned to the east and headed for their lane to the cabin. She needed to be home now, to be with her family.

She soon found that there were places which the snow, hadn't had much sun and, was still quite deep, particularly in the thick oak brush. She was forced to backtrack and return to where she had been sitting upon the rock.

By the time she made the clearing, the sun was shining onto the tops of the trees around the beautiful glen and she stopped to make a visual image in her mind of the place. It was so colorful, scenic, and charming. It caused Gemma to wonder who it was that owned that piece of land upon which her beautiful glen lay. The sun's rays scrolled down the trunks of the trees and onto the earth and snow.

Gemma stood on the rock upon which she had sat earlier, and thought to herself, 'To think that it is only a few minutes walk from where I live. I am one of the most fortunate of people'.

She stepped off of the rock and followed the path of footsteps that she and the boys had made only the day, before.

After a very pleasant stroll up the lane to her cabin, she stepped up onto the porch and, picking up her riding boots, thought about how comfortable those boots, given to her by her grandmother, had felt while she had taken her short walk. "I think they are a fine pair of walking boots."

Read Chapter 9:

Tough As Nails

Web site content � 2000 by Robert Clark Nielsen

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws