Home in the Wilderness, Part 3

Hi friends. I hope you all have had a blessed Thanksgiving. Today I am bringing you Part 3 of A Home in the Wilderness. So far, the widow Helen Curtis and her three teenage children have managed to build a home on the land they had bought before Will Curtis, Helen’s husband, was killed in an accident. Their neighbor, Jerome Whitmore, and his crew had helped them. But in January of 1949, they face a powerful storm …

A Home in the Wilderness

Part 3

By Sheri Schofield

   Elijah and Luke had just finished hauling a load of hay out to the shallow cave where the cattle liked to go for shelter in the cold. It was supposed to be a pleasant day, according to the weather report. But a shadow suddenly darkened the landscape as they finished cutting open some haybales. They didn’t notice it at first, but the cattle lifted their heads and headed for the shelter.

   “What’s this?” Luke said as a heifer pushed past him into the cave.

   “They’re all coming here. I wonder why.” Elijah walked over to the entry to the cave. “Luke, the sky is really dark. I think we need to head home.”

   “Okay.” Luke came outside. He frowned as he looked around. The sky was growing ominously dark. The clouds in the distance nearly touched the ground and seemed to be moving rapidly across the prairie to the south. “Could be a tornado. Let’s get home.”

   They mounted up and urged their horses into a canter, looking at the clouds frequently, but not seeing any funnel clouds.

   “Maybe it’s just a snowstorm,” Luke said as a cold wind buffeted him. “

   Over at the Bar W, Jerome lifted his head from working on his tractor engine when a gust of cold wind hit him. A weird electrical feeling hung in the air. He saw the dark clouds moving swiftly toward the ranch from the west. A weird upside-down rainbow appeared in the sky. Slamming down the engine cover, he ran to his horse and raced out to the field where his crew was mending a fence.

   “Get back to the house! Now!” he shouted. There’s a bad storm coming. Get the horses in the barn then go to the main house and stay there. I’m going over to the Circle C to make sure they all get inside.”

   “I’m coming too!” Steve shouted, heading for his bay mare.

  Jerome turned his horse and raced toward our place, Steve trailing him. In the distance, he saw two riders cantering toward house. Good. They’d make it in time. “Must be the boys,” he muttered. “Better check on Helen and Liza.”

   He dismounted and took long steps toward the door.

   I’d heard him ride into the yard. I’d been washing up dishes. Grabbing a dishtowel, I headed toward the front door. Jerome ponded on it and shouted my name. I opened the door.

   “What’s wrong?” I asked, searching his face.

   “There’s a bad storm headed this way. I saw your boys coming in from the field. You’d best put the chickens in their coop. I’ll put the horses in the barn. I don’t think I can get back to my ranch in time to beat that storm.”

    Steve pulled up behind him but didn’t dismount.

    “Where’s Liza?” he demanded. “I saw the boys coming from the pasture. There’s a bad storm coming.”

   “She’s in the barn milking the cow.”

   “I’ll get her,” Steve said. He rode toward the back portion of the barn. “Liza! Where are you?” he called upon reaching the barn door.

   “I’ll bring the rest of your horses in.” Jerome remounted and raced for the pasture where three of our horses grazed.

   Walking swiftly toward the chicken coop, I gave the familiar call I used to signal feeding time and tossed a handful of chicken feed into the open doorway. The chickens ran toward the food, each one trying to be first. Once they were all inside, I pulled the door shut and pulled the latch closed.

   I looked out to the pasture and saw the boys coming. Wind and a burst of ice crystals came between us. Running back to the house, I grabbed the iron bar hanging from the cast iron triangle and sounded it. The boys, hearing the dinner triangle, spurred their horses into a run.

   The storm hit just as they reached the house. Sand-like ice crystals poured down on them as though from a huge bucket. Visibility dropped. I kept ringing the triangle to guide them all in. First Steve and Liza staggered through the snow, slopping milk from Liza’s bucket with each step, then the boys came in. Jerome, who had reached the barn with the horses from the field, raced back to the house through the snow.

   “Let me take your horses to the barn,” Jerome shouted against the wind, reaching for their reins.

   “Not without a rope to guide you back!” I shouted as the wind roared around us.

   “Here!” Luke pulled his rope off the saddle and handed it to Jerome. Turning to Elijah, he said, “Give me your rope, too, Lije.” Tying the two ropes together so they would reach the barn, he handed one end of the rope to Jerome, who tied it around his waist.

   “I’m coming with you,” Steve said, grabbing onto the rope.

   “Stay here,” Jerome said.

   “No, boss. We’ll finish sooner together.”

   “Come along then.”

   Luke tied the other end of the rope to the post which supported the roof over our entryway.

   “I’ll be back as soon as I wipe the horses down,” Jerome said, moving off in the direction of the barn leading the two horses, with Steve close behind him.

   We went inside the house. “Liza, put a kettle on the stove. Luke, bring some more wood in from the shed outside the kitchen.”

   Luke opened the back door and reached for some of the stacked wood. A burst of wind blew from the west, scattering the snow beyond the front yard, but it didn’t hit the house. Will had built the house in a sheltered spot which protected us from the worst of the wind. Luke ducked back inside and added some wood to the fire in the stove.

   I looked out the window. Where was Jerome? I noticed the rope was slack. Was he inside the barn still? The rope tightened up. He was coming back. I kept watch from the front window until a bulky shadow appeared through the storm, covered with snow. Reaching for the door handle, I opened it.

   Steve came inside supporting Jerome, whose head was tied up with his neckerchief and his face was bloody. “A tree branch blew down and hit him on our way to the barn. I tied up the wound then took care of the horses. Here. Help me get him into a chair.”

   Luke stepped up to Jerome’s other side, guided him to the table, and pulled out a chair.

   I filled a large bowl with hot water from the teakettle and hurried over to Jerome. “Liza, find me a clean washcloth.”

    “I’m okay,” Jerome murmured in a groggy voice.

   “Good. I’m just going to clean up some of this blood and take a look at your head.” I gently wiped the blood from his face while Steve undid the bandana. The wound was still bleeding. I held the towel against it firmly for a few minutes.

   “Liza, would you please heat some water up for coffee?” I glanced over at Liza, who stood next to Steve.

   “I’ll help.” Steve said turning to follow her. “I know how he likes it.”

   “The wound goes all the way to the bone. It’s hard to stop the bleeding,” I said. “Jerome, I’m going to tie your hair together around the cut. That will work like stitches, but you’ll have to cut the knots out later.”

   “Do it.”

   “Okay.” Fortunately, his hair was long enough for me to tie. With Liza holding the edges of the cut together, I tied several small bunches of hair from opposite sides of the wound in double square knots.

   “It’s working,” Steve said with satisfaction, looking over Liza’s shoulder. “The bleeding has stopped.”

     Luke brought Jerome a cup of coffee and helped guide it to his lips.

   Jerome took a sip then reached his hands up to hold the cup himself. “Thanks, Luke. I needed that.” He looked up at me. “Where did you ever learn to use hair to close cuts?”

   I laughed. “From raising these three kids. We lived too far out in the country to drive to the hospital every time they got cut. I’ve stitched a few things up with thread, too. We make do. But you aren’t going to like this next part. I have to disinfect any germs that may be in or around that cut, and all I have is alcohol.”

   Jerome’s mustache twitched. He chuckled. “I think I can handle that, Helen.”

   After disinfecting his wound, I encouraged him to move to the large, overstuffed chair in the open living room.

  “I didn’t mean to be a burden,” he mumbled still a little unsteady on his feet as I helped him across the room.

   “You aren’t,” I said. “We are grateful you came to help us. I’m not sure we could have saved the horses from this storm if you hadn’t arrived when you did.”

   “Your boys would have managed.”

   “Maybe.” I took his hand. “But you know the area and weather here. I’m glad you came to help us. Now just relax and let us take care of you for a while.”

   He reached over and placed his other hand over mine.

   It was comforting but unnerving. I thought of Will, how he had done the same thing so many times. I didn’t move, though my heart was in conflict over the gesture.

   Will is gone. He isn’t coming back. Jerome is a good neighbor. He’s kind and thoughtful of us. But it feels too soon to be thinking this way!

   The snow didn’t settle much at first in the lee of the mountain behind the house. Before dark, however, I knew the snow was piling up out in the pasture. I knew the chickens would be safe, protected by the cliff. The horses would be crowded in the barn, but their shared warmth would keep them safe, too.

   Maybe the storm will fade soon, I thought hopefully.

   Liza and Steve brought potatoes, canned green beans and carrots from the basement and began preparing dinner. I had planned for stew from last night’s left-over roast, so Liza began cutting the remaining meat into cubes while Steve began washing the vegetables.

   Elijah stood at the window looking out at the storm.

   “Elijah, I know you are worried about the livestock and all the other creatures out in this storm.”

    “Yes. But there’s not much I can do for them.” He paused. “It’s time for me to feed the chickens. I can at least do that.”

   “I’ll go with you,” Luke said.

   They donned coats and followed the rope toward the barn. Steve had looped the rope around the chicken coop post before tying it to the hay wagon parked next to the barn.

   Elijah gathered eggs while the chickens pecked at the feed he’d brought. The boys returned to the house the same way, holding onto the rope.

   By the time dinner was ready, Jerome was feeling well enough to join us at the table. I sat at one end of the table with Jerome next to me. We all joined hands round the table.

   “Luke, would you bless the food?” I asked.

   “Sure. Lord, thank you for providing this food for us. Thank you for this shelter during the storm. Watch over all those who are out there in this danger and keep them safe. Amen.”

   “And keep the animals safe,” Elijah added.

   Later that evening, I lifted blankets from my linen chest and brought them out for our guests.

   “Jerome, will the couch do for the night?” I asked.

   “Yes ma’am. It’s remarkably comfortable. Thank you,” he said, accepting the blanket and pillow I handed to him.

   “Steve, why don’t you take my bed,”  Luke said. “I can sleep in the attic. We’ve stored extra bedding there.”

   “I don’t want to put you out,” Steve protested.

   “You’re not.” Luke grinned. “It’s warmer up there than down here. I’ll probably be more comfortable than you.”

   Luke added a backlog to the fire then pulled the rope to lower the ladder to the loft. “See you in the morning,” he said, disappearing into the attic.  

   We thought the storm would end soon, but the next day it was still blowing. We had a battery-operated radio. The weather report indicated the storm would not be over for some time and warned people to stay inside. But we had livestock in the barn. Would they be safe?

   With no outside work possible, I knew we’d need to focus on something besides the storm. “Luke, why don’t you bring out the pinochle. We could play a game or two.”

   The young people settled down around the kitchen table, but Jerome was restless and kept walking over to the window and looking out at the storm.

   “Jerome, would you like to help me with something?”

   “Yes ma’am. What can I do?”

   “I have some walnuts that need to be cracked so I can use them in apple spice muffins.”

   “Sure. Lead me to them. It won’t do me any good to keep worrying about my cattle.” Glad to have some distraction, he shelled a good pile of walnuts while I prepared the apples and batter. Once the muffins were in the oven, I made two cups of coffee and led the way into the living room.

   Accepting a fresh cup of coffee and a muffin, Jerome settled into a big chair while I curled up on the end of the couch with my own coffee, sharing the end table with him.

   “Rosalie used to make apple muffins.” He sighed. “I miss her.”

   “I know what you mean. Will was my life. I feel so alone without him. Tell me about your wife, Jerome.”

   We talked quietly about our lives before we lost our mates, understanding what the other felt. For the first time, I felt a comradery with him, a comfort in his understanding of my sorrow. I could tell he felt the same toward me.

   Later, Jerome helped me with dinner while the young people played Chinese checkers.

   “Steve is surely taken with your Liza,” he commented softly.

   “Yes. She likes him, too. I’m glad to see how well they get along.”

   “How old is Liza?”

   “Eighteen. How about Steve?”

   “He’s twenty-two. Time to start thinking about settling down.”

   “Hm. That’s a good age difference between them.” I nodded. “We shall see.”

   He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “We surely will.”

   I laughed.

   The storm roared outside, but in our home, there was warmth, friendship and safety. But how about the livestock? Were the cattle safe? Did Jerome’s crew manage to drive the horses into the barn? Had the cattle moved to the safe haven of the cliff overhang and small cave? Could any living creature survive such suffocating snow and below zero temperatures?

   I could see Jerome was preoccupied as the evening progressed. Would he try to reach his ranch in this storm? My heart was afraid for him.

A Home in the Wilderness, Part 2

Hello Friends. Today’s feature is part 2 of a fictitious story set in 1948 Wyoming, about Helen Curtis and her three teenagers (Luke-19) Liza (18) and Elijah (14) who return to Wyoming after a long winter to finish building the ranch their family started the previous summer. Helen’s husband, Will, died in a car accident during the winter, leaving her a widow. Together, the family wants to finish building Will’s dream ranch. But Helen isn’t sure she wants to remain there when it is finished, for it is in the Wyoming wilderness area between Devil’s Tower and Hulett, far from all her children are used to. Jerome Whitmore, a neighboring rancher, seeing their need for help in raising the walls of the main house, offers to bring his cowboy crew over to help.

A Home in the Wilderness, Part 2

by Sheri Schofield

   Saturday dawned with clear skies. It was perfect weather for erecting a house. Shortly after we’d eaten breakfast, we heard the whoops and pounding of hooves announcing the arrival of our volunteer crew.

   Luke strode outside and grinned at the men, shaking hands with them and learning names. Elijah was at his side soaking it all in and smiling from ear to ear.

   “Who’s the young lady?” one cowboy asked in a stage whisper, nodding to my blonde-haired blue-eyed daughter.

   “That’s our sister, Liza. But let me warn you, she’s almost as good as me at carpentry work,” Luke said. “Why, you should see her in jeans sitting on top of a frame, hammering in nails. She’s independent, too. Don’t let her dress and long hair fool you. You’re company, so she’s helping Mom cook today. But when you all leave, she’ll be back in blue jeans with a hammer and saw in her hands.”

   The younger men insisted on being introduced to Liza. I could see at once she was going to have no end of attention. But having grown up with brothers, she knew exactly how to manage.

   I smiled and greeted all the men. “Thank you all for coming over to help us. We are indeed blessed. My name is Helena Curtis. If you need anything, just ask.”

   Jerome, the last to dismount, had been watching with a tolerant grin on his face as his men crowded around Liza. He now walked into the group and said, “Let’s get this house up, boys.”

   By noon, the walls were up, the roof base was in place, some of the men were installing the metal roof over the bare boards, and siding was going up.

   Late the night before, after Jerome had left, I had started making apple pies. I’d baked some more before breakfast, too. By lunch time, I’d heated and sliced the roast beef and prepared the gravy.

   “Liza, help me put the food on the table.” I’d built a fire outside with a frame to hold a large pot and had cooked corn on the cob. Beans were simmering on the stove. There was bread Liza and I had baked the previous day, and big pitchers of milk.

   Jerome and Elijah set up a make-shift benches with boards nailed onto logs. Together, Liza and I set the hot food on the table.

   I walked over to the iron triangle hanging near the front door and sounded the call to lunch.

   The men dropped their tools where they worked and headed for the wash tub I’d filled up with water. Liza stood next to it with towels ready, much to their pleasure.

  After filling their plates, some of the crew sat on the grass to eat, leaving room at the table for others, while Liza and I kept the food organized. We would eat after the crew finished.

   Standing next to the table, Jerome lifted a hand. The crew fell silent as he blessed the food. Meals were generally serious business for the workers, but with Liza nearby, they did a fair amount of talking, hoping to gain her attention.

   When it was time for dessert, Jerome waited until his crew finished, then helped himself to some of my apple pie. After a couple of bites, he looked up at me and grinned. “You make a fine apple pie, ma’am.”

   “Thanks.” I smiled at him briefly then went back to work.

   By evening, the crew had finished the basics on the outside, including a coat of white paint. It was a great start.

   I sighed with satisfaction as they mounted their horses, waved their hats and raced home with a few whoops, still exuberant as though they had been to a party. With Liza smiling shyly and listening to them, I could see why.

   Jerome was the last to leave. After he’d mounted his horse, he told me, “If you need help with the interior, just send one of your boys over and I’ll come myself.”

   I nodded and smiled up at him. “You have been such a blessing, Jerome. You’re welcome here anytime.”

   He grinned, tipped his hat, nudged his horse, and lit out after his crew.

   “Thank you, Lord,” I whispered. God had provided the help we needed.

   Later that evening when the boys had gone outside for a last look around, Liza confided, “Mama, I liked Steve, the tall, quiet cowboy. He has lovely manners.”

   Hugging her close, I said, “He seems to be very nice. But take your time, honey.”

   “I will. But I just wanted you to know.”

   “Thanks for telling me, Liza.” She was growing up so fast! I knew it wouldn’t be long before she would marry. I treasured each moment with her.

   We named our ranch the Circle C for Curtis. Over the next few weeks, we installed the plumbing and insulation indoors. An electrical crew tied us into the power lines that week, and the phone company installed their line as well. The interior walls were knotty pine, so we didn’t need to paint. The boys put in windows and added red trim to them. Will had provided red metal roofing, and the total effect was pleasant to the eye.

   I sighed. Will, we did it. I wish you could be here to see it! You would be so proud of the boys and Liza.  

   Until the house was finished, we slept and ate in the back room of the barn. Even though it was summer, the nights were cool in the highlands of Wyoming.

   Luke and Elijah began the brickwork for a chimney for the stove the morning after the house raising. It took a few days, but it looked efficient when it was finished. But the old wood stove was too heavy for the two boys to move on their own.

   With the phone in, I called the operator and had her ring Jerome’s number that evening.

   “Jerome, this is Helen.”

   “Hello Helen. How are you?” I could hear the pleasure in his voice.

   “I’m doing well, thanks to you and your crew.”

   “Is there anything else we can do for you?”

   “Yes. Could you send two of your strongest men over to help Luke and Elijah move the wood stove into the house for us?’

   “Gladly. You know they will fight over the privilege of coming over, don’t you?” I could hear the laughter in his voice.

   “I’m sure. Liza has always been a major attraction in our family.”

   “Yes she is. But so is her mother.”

   I felt my cheeks growing warm. “Oh! Thank you, Jerome.:

   “We’ll be over there first thing in the morning.”

   “Thank you.” So Jerome is coming along with his men. I can see he likes me. But I’m not ready to think of anyone besides Will yet! Lord, show me what to do.

   We had just finished breakfast when we heard horses coming. The boys jumped up and headed out the barn door to greet them. Liza and I quickly put the dishes in the barn’s sink which Will had installed the summer before, then followed the boys outside.

   “Good morning, Helen,” Jerome nodded, dismounting and tying his horse’s reins to the hitching rail. “You remember Steve and Pete?”

   “Yes. Thank you all for coming.”

   “Lead us to that stove, ma’am. We’ll have it installed in no time.”

   “It’s inside the other barn door,” Luke said, taking the lead.

   “Do you have some boards we could use as a ramp into the house?” Jerome asked.

   “Yes. They’re in the barn, too.”

   A few minutes later, Steve and Jerome came outside with four two-by-six boards and a piece of scrap plywood. Laying the boards down and nailing the plywood firmly over the top, they made a secure ramp for moving the stove.

   In a short time, they were able to move the heavy stove across the grass and into the house and put it in place in front of the chimney. Luke had laid a brick foundation to accommodate the stove and to prevent fires. Jerome helped him install the connecting stovepipe.

   By the time they had completed the work, Liza had baked a tray of hot oatmeal cookies which she brought out to the table on the grass.

   “It’s looking nice, Helen,” Jerome said as he finished and brushed his hands on his jeans. He looked around. “Homey. Warm.” He nodded and looked over at me. “Will would be proud of you and the family.” He looked at Luke. “You’re a natural-born carpenter, Luke. Good job. You too, Elijah and Liza.”

   Will had installed a fence around the property last summer, but the interior pastures needed to be fenced before we could bring in cattle. For the next three weeks, we worked with poles and barbed wire doing the inner fencing.

   Sunday, I woke the children early. “Let’s go to church this morning,” I said, sitting on the edge of Liza’s bed and addressing them all.

   “That sounds fun,” Elijah said with a yawn and rolled out of bed.

   Luke followed suit, then Liza.

   “Breakfast is ready as soon as you are,” I said, walking into the living area.

   Town people were walking toward the church when we pulled our Chevy into the parking area.

   “There’s Steve!” Liza leaned over and whispered into my ear.

   “I see him.”

   Jerome stood near the door and saw us drive up. He smiled and waved. I waved back. Steve turned when Jerome waved. Seeing Liza, he strode over.

   “Hi, Liza. Good to see you here!”

   “Hi Steve.” Her face glowed.

   “Would you like to sit with me this morning?”

   “Yes, I would.”

   Crooking his elbow, he pulled her hand through it and walked her into the church.

   Jerome watched, an amused smile on his face, then glanced at me. “Ma’am, would you like to join me this morning?” He crooked his arm.

   “Thank you, Jerome.” I let him lead me inside, though my heart held him at a distance. Friendship was all I could give, and I welcomed friendship…as long as it remained friendship only.

   Elijah found a small group of teenagers and introduced himself. Luke, much less social than my other young people, simply walked into church and sat next to me. It was nice. Jerome on one side, Luke on the other. At least I wouldn’t feel alone in the new church.

   The choir entered, dressed in long blue robes with white stoles, and began singing the doxology. We all stood and joined them. Later, one of the young women in the choir sang a solo during the special for the day, O Love That Will Not Let Me Go.

   Glancing a  Luke, I noticed his lips were slightly parted and his eyes were fixed on the woman. Who was she? Was she spoken for? I could almost read his mind. Well, we would find out in due time. I felt we would fit into this church nicely, and thanked God for the friendliness I felt from others.   

   By July, we were ready to buy stock. We bought four heifers, a bull and a milk cow from a rancher closer to town. It was the start of our own herd.

   I bought some chickens from another neighbor after my young people put up a chicken coop with straw for nests. They built the coop between the barn and the house so we could easily walk between buildings when snow fell. Sheltered by the cliff to the north and west, all the buildings would weather the coming winter well.

   Liza came up beside me one evening as I stood looking out over our fields. “It feels good to have our own home and ranch, Mama. Even if it’s far away from Grandpa and Grandma and our friends back in Rapid City. I like it here.”

   “Yes. It is good. I miss your dad a lot. But he would be pleased with the way we’ve all managed to build the dream he had.”

   “He would. He’d be proud of you, Mama. You’ve been wonderful.”

   “Thank you, Liza.” I hugged her. “You’re a comfort to me.” I sighed, wondering if I should keep my young people so far from all that was familiar to them. “I don’t suppose you’d like to sell the ranch and move back to Rapid City, now that we’ve built the ranch, would you?”

   “No. We put too much work into this place. We belong here now.”

   “I’m glad you feel that way, honey.”  

   It was a busy, exhausting summer, but I welcomed the long work hours, for it kept me from the grief I felt over losing Will. He was never far from my thoughts. Yet I never had time to linger too long in the pit of grief. I fell asleep each night before the wave of pain could reach me.

   Gradually, my heart stopped hurting so fiercely whenever I thought of Will. The grief became a dull ache. By September, I was able to go a day or two without remembering my loss, and by October I could even laugh again sometimes. Healing began washing away feelings of loss for long stretches of time.

   My children began experiencing healing, too. Hard work and laughter eased the pain.

   During the summer and especially when fall arrived, we all worked together canning fruit and vegetables we were able to buy in bulk from the farmer’s market in town. We stored what we canned on shelves in the rock-walled basement with its earthen floor. We stocked the large freezer with cuts from half a beef we’d been able to buy at the butcher’s store. We butchered most of the roosters, freezing them for future meals, and my boys caught many fish in the creek near our house. Some we ate fresh, and some we froze. I felt great satisfaction with all we had stored for the coming winter. It was hard work but rewarding.

   One morning in October when I awoke, I saw snowflakes falling outside my window.

   “We’re ready.” I whispered. We had mowed and baled hay during July and stacked it in the barn’s loft. We’d also stacked some in a cave where the cattle went for shelter when the weather was cold. If a storm came, I didn’t want the cattle to be without hay.

   Luke had built a roof extending twelve feet out over the area in front of the chicken coop so the chickens could be outside whenever they wanted without battling the snow.

   Temperatures dropped in November along with scatterings of, but there were days when the sun came out and warmed the cold earth. Ice on the roof melted, forming icicles. But we were warm inside the house, for I had bought enough logs for two winters, and the boys had chopped much of it. The wood was stored conveniently on the south side of the house right outside the kitchen door, where the sun would warm it. The boys had built a sturdy roof over that end of the house and secured a canvas tarp over the top of the stack, knowing from long experience how snow on wood made it stick together.

   Our first Christmas in our new home was somber. We all felt Will’s absence.

   “Remember when Dad…” The phrase came to our lips often, provoking good memories, but leaving us sad.

   Jerome came over with treats his cook had made, telling funny stories about his riders. It was a bright spot in an otherwise sad day. Steve, who had gone home to Sundance for Christmas, stopped by our house the next day..

   “Come in, Steve,” Lisa said, inviting him into the house.

   He grinned and came inside carrying a cardboard box. “My mom thought you might like some goodies,” he said, setting the box on the table.

   “How lovely!” Liza said. She walked toward the table and began unpacking the box. “Christmas cookies….Mmm! This smells like pumpkin bread. Lifting a paper bag and looking in it, she reached in and pulled our homemade taffy. She turned a glowing look up at Steve. “Thank you!
   Steve’s face glowed, too, as he looked into her eyes. “It is my pleasure.”

   The boys crowded around, reaching for cookies and taffy. “Tell your mom we love it!” Elijah said, munching on a cookie.

   Steve brought laughter with him, too. But the room felt empty when he left.

   I think we all felt relieved when Christmas season was over, and the new year dawned.

   But January 2, 1949 turned our world upside down.

(To be continued)

A Home in the Wilderness

Greetings, friends. The story I am starting for you today is set in 1948-49 and captures a historic event here in Wyoming while it weaves the tale of a family that braves the wilds to build their home. I spent longer than usual researching the background to try to paint a picture of the time and places in order to bring you an authentic feel for the characters and the land. Because of the complexity of this story, woven as it is into an actual event, I will share it with you in three or four parts. Enjoy!

A Home in the Wilderness

Part 1

by Sheri Schofield

Spring rains pelted my bedroom window as I gazed out at Mom and Dad’s back yard. It was spring of 1948 in Rapid City, South Dakota. Winter snows had melted, and daffodils were pushing their heads up in bunches along the wooden fence which enclosed the small back yard.

   “Helen,” Mom said entering my room. “How are you feeling today?”

   “Better. My leg is almost healed now, and I was able to walk over to the closet without pain.”

   “Good.” She nodded with satisfaction. “Breakfast is ready. Do you want me to make your tea?”

   “Thank you, but I think I can make it myself this time, Mom. I need to use my leg more if I’m going to head out to the ranch in a couple weeks.”

   “I wish you wouldn’t,” Mom said. “I know Will has the barn built on the property, but where will you and the children stay while you’re working? It will still be cold, you know.”

   “Will had one end of the barn closed off for living quarters and left some cots for us to use. There’s a wood stove in there, too. We will be fine. Don’t worry about us. The kids are strong and healthy.”

   “Yes, they will probably be okay. Luke and Elijah are tough. But I worry about Liza. She’s eighteen now and should be meeting more young people her age.”

   “I’m sure she will make friends at church. So will Luke and Elijah. Luke’s a full-grown now. A man. He’s probably going to take the lead in getting acquainted in town. Elijah? Well, I’ll make sure he gets to weekly youth group. He’ll make friends quickly with his cheerful spirit.”

   My boys, Luke at nearly twenty and Elijah at fourteen, were both independent spirits. Liza was the quiet one who liked to write, play the guitar and sing. But she was also skilled in carpentry, like the boys were. She would find her place in the church music groups. Hulett, Wyoming was a small town in the year 1948, but it was a friendly place.

   My husband, Will, had dreamed of ranching in Wyoming someday. When he sold our house in Rapid City, he was able to purchase land near Hulett and the Devil’s tower in Wyoming. It was undeveloped land, but Will had enough money to buy the land plus all the building materials, which were now locked up in the barn he and our children had built last fall. We’d left the property for the winter months and returned to Rapid City to stay at my parents’ home until spring. We hadn’t expected for Will to die in a car accident two months before, or for me to break my leg as well.    

   Mom and Dad were wonderful. They’d helped me through the worst of the pain and grief, but I knew there would always be an emptiness in my heart, a place only Will could fill.

   With the warmer weather, I knew we should be heading out to the ranch. I dreaded leaving Mom and Dad, but if the children were to have a good future, I needed to complete the job Will had started and finish building the ranch.

   Whether we stayed there or not after we finished building the house remained to be seen. With a barn and a house on the property, we could sell for a good sum and move into a place in town if we wanted. Maybe. Not a lot of people liked to live in remote areas.

   There was a good school for Elijah in Hulett. Liza had graduated the year before, having worked extra hard. I wasn’t sure what she would do after the house was built, but she was an excellent carpenter, as was Luke. Will had taught them both his trade. Elijah at least knew how to hammer a nail straight and saw wood right on the mark, even if he didn’t have the experience his older siblings had. We would be fine, I told myself.

  The first week in May, we loaded our possessions into a small trailer Dad loaned us and headed west in the used Chevy I’d bought to replace what we’d had before the accident. Waving goodbye to my parents, we headed west. I wiped tears from my eyes, but the children were excited about the trip.

   “How long do you think it will take to build the house?”

   “I wonder if we’ll have any close neighbors!”

   “Mama, how long will it take to get there?”

   “Are there many neighbors near our place?”

   I smiled. “I know. You’re full of questions and curiosity. But we’ll be there later today.”

   When we finally arrived at the gate to the ranch and Luke pulled the gate open for us, I was exhausted. But we were pleased to be at our own home again. We’d spent last fall here, so the kids knew where everything was.

   The house foundation was tucked up against a cliff on the west side, a cliff that curled around on the north end making a perfect defense against the winds of Wyoming. This was tornado country. The shelter would help protect our home. The barn and chicken coop were close to the cliff too. Wyoming also had hailstorms which sometimes dropped ice balls the size of goose eggs. The protection of the cliff would help preserve the house during a storm. Of course, Will had dug a cellar under the house, a place of retreat if a severe storm came our way.

   I unlocked the padlock Will had put on the side door of the barn. “Luke. backed the trailer up to the door to make unloading easier.”

   “Okay, Mom.”

   “Elijah, I want you to build a fire in the stove before we unload.”

   “Will do.”

    Bedding, household goods, clothes… It took some time to unload and organize what we’d brought with us. But by dinner time, the space was feeling cozy.

   The fire in the wood stove where I now cooked dinner for the family warmed the room. We were camped out in the back part of the barn under the loft. Later, this would be the milking area for the cow.

   Will and I had planned to buy a milk cow as well as a few red Angus cows and a bull. If we decided to stay, I would follow through with that plan. Liza and I could churn butter and bake goods and sell some of those items, plus milk, to the neighbors or to the local store, depending on the need. I could bake bread and cookies for market as well, once we were settled…if we decided to stay.

   When we sat down at the plain wooden table for a supper of roast beef, baked potatoes and greens from Mom’s garden, I led the family in prayer.

   “Father in heaven, thank you for  this ranch and the food you have provided for us. Lord, please make us truly grateful.” My heart ached for Will, especially here at the ranch where we had spent so many happy times together.

   The next morning dawned clear and cool.

   “Liza, I’ll take care of the dishes. Go ahead and help the boys take the lumber out to the house site and start laying the walls out on the ground. Luke, Dad’s plan for the house is on the shelf at the head of my bed.”

    By the time I’d finished with kitchen clean-up, my young people had hauled much of the lumber out to the house site. I went out to help. As I loaded a wooden cart with more lumber to take over to the site, I heard hoofbeats approaching. An older cowboy rode up to the site, pushed his hat back on his head and looked at me in amazement.

   “Ma’am, are you building this house on your own?” He sounded astonished.

   “Not exactly. My children are helping me.”

   I looked up into his face. He looked to be a little older than I was, with curly brown hair laced with gray peeking out beneath his cowboy hat,, and a big mustache.

   “Hi. My name’s Helen Curtis. Who might you be?”

   He dismounted and stepped forward to shake my hand. “The name’s Jerome Whitmore. I own the ranch next to yours, the Bar W. I met your husband Will when he first arrived. Is he around?”

   “No, unfortunately, he died in a car accident this past winter. We’re here to finish what he started.”

   “I’m so sorry.” Gazing at the progress my young folk were making on the frame, he said, “When you have the frame finished, I’d like to bring some of my hands over to help you raise it.”

   I smiled up at him. “That would be very kind of you. I’ve been wondering how we’d get the building up with only the four of us.”

   Jerome walked over to where my children were working and introduced himself. After studying their progress he asked Luke, “My name’s Jerome Whitmore. I have the ranch bordering yours on the north. I met your dad a few times in town last summer. He was a fine man. I’d like to help you finish what he started, if I may. How much longer until you’re ready to raise the walls?”

   Luke looked him over thoughtfully then glanced at me. I nodded. “I’m thinking we’ll be ready to raise them by Saturday, if all goes well.”

   “Good. I’ll come over and check on Friday and bring a crew over on Saturday if you’re ready for us.” He nodded at Luke. “You’re doing a good job here. It’s nice to see a young man finishing the work his father started.”

   “Thank you, Mr. Whitmore.” Luke looked around at Liza and Elijah. “We’re all in this together. Not one of us would do it anything different. Honoring Dad—it’s what we do.”

   Jerome nodded. “See you Friday late afternoon.” He headed back toward his horse.
“Ma’am, I’ll have my cook put together food for my men for the house-raising. Don’t you worry about it.” He turned to mount his horse.

   “Mr. Whitmore,” I said. “We don’t have anything fancy, but I’d like to invite you to stay for supper when you come over on Friday. Please bring your wife, too. That would give us a welcome chance to get acquainted with you all.”

   He looked into my eyes thoughtfully. “I’d like that. But I’m afraid I don’t have a wife anymore. She passed away two years ago.”

    “Oh.” I knew the pain he suffered, for I was walking through it myself. I laid a handon his forearm. “I’m sorry.” I met his eyes. “I’d still like you to come.”

   “Thank you for the invitation.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll see you Friday afternoon, Mrs. Curtis.”

   I watched him ride away to the north, where his ranch must be. Luke, who had come over to stand by me, commented on our visitor. “He’s nice. I’m glad we’ll have a crew to help us raise the house. I was wondering how we could manage on our own.”

   “I believe God sent him to us.” I nodded in agreement.

   My young people had finished and were cleaned up on Friday by the time Mr. Whitmore arrived to inspect the framework. He brought a large roasted and sliced beef stored in gravy, and a sack of fruit and potatoes and other vegetables, plus four loaves of bread on a pack horse. “This should be enough to feed my crew tomorrow,” he said, carrying it into the living area. “I had my cook prepare the roast, so all you’ll need to do is heat it up.”

   “Thank you so much!” I was overwhelmed by his generosity.

   Mr. Whitmore smiled. “I have a crew of healthy eaters. I wouldn’t want you to go broke trying to feed them all.”

   “I am most grateful.”

   “Let’s take a look at that frame,” he said, turning to my sons.

   Luke and Elijah accompanied him while Liza helped me set our rustic table.

   Over dinner, we became better acquainted with Mr. Whitmore. He was thoughtful and reserved, supportive of our project. He told us about his wife, Rosalee, who had suffered with cancer for a year before passing. I saw the grief on his face, but he didn’t say much more about the battle she’d fought, just that it had been hard.

   I shared a little about Will’s death. “I miss him dreadfully. We’d been in love since grade school. He’s always been part of my life.”

   “Yes. I understand. Rosalie and I met in high school.” He paused. “You should call me Jerome. Okay?” He looked around at the younger folk.

   “Sure.”

   “Okay.”

   “Alright.”

   “I will,” I said. “And call me Helen.”

   “Yes ma’am.” He grinned at me, his eyes twinkling.

   Later that night while my young people cleared the table and washed up, I walked with Jerome out to his horse.

   “Thank you for inviting me here for dinner,” he said. “It was a pleasure getting acquainted with and your young people.”

   “I’m glad you could come.”

   We paused by the horse there in the moonlight.

   “I’m sorry for your loss, Helen. I do understand how difficult it is to lose the one you love. I want you to know that I will be here to help you and your family, and please count me as a friend.”

   “With pleasure,” I said, looking up at him. “It’s good to have friends here in the wilderness.”

   Tipping his cowboy hat, he mounted his horse. “See you tomorrow, ma’am.”

The Newcomer

By Sheri Schofield

Hi friends. My husband Tim and I just returned from a long trip which took us through the Wyoming wilderness where rolling hills are covered with sage brush and mountains thrust their peaks up sharply from the desert floor. The ground and mountain colors vary, sometimes gray, sometimes red, and other times almost white, where a different layer of rock thrusts up against the blue-gray mountains like giant, smooth fingernails clawing their way to the sky. It is a wild, rugged, beautiful land. As we drove, I imagined living in the area, where towns are small, few, and far between. What would a young woman do in such a setting? I let my imagination take over, but every now and then, I’d ask my husband, retired physician who once served in the military, for advice about the hero in the story I was imagining. Now I share it with you – “The Newcomer.”

Anna Carpenter waved good-bye to her last piano student and reached for her gardening gloves, a trowel, and one of her geranium plants. She knew everyone in town thought of her as an old maid, for she was twenty-seven and still lived with her mother. But this did not bother her, for she was happier than many married women she knew in town.

Nevertheless, she did harbor a secret longing for marriage and children. Sometimes in the evening when she was brushing her long, sandy colored hair the recommended hundred strokes, she found herself wishing for a husband. Her gray eyes would deepen in color as she dreamed. Then she would shrug, sigh, and move away from the mirror. There was no point in wishing for something that would probably never happen, she thought. Having grown up in the small town of Elk Crossing, she had also grown up with the young men and hadn’t found one who shared her interests in books, music, or flowers, and she couldn’t imagine being married to someone who didn’t share those interests.

She was planting the geraniums in the large, wooden barrel in her front yard that afternoon, when a moving van pulled into the house across the street. The house was set back behind the country feed and farm supply store which had been empty for several months. Mr. Jansen, the previous owner, had moved to Cheyenne to live with his daughter in his old age. Anna had heard that the house had recently sold, but nobody knew who the new owner was.

Curiously, Anna stood and looked across the street. A tall man with a slight limp climbed out of the truck and walked around to the back an opened the doors. It wasn’t a large truck, but he might need help. From where she stood, she could see that his face was framed with dark hair with some gray around the edges. She pulled off her gloves, dropped them beside the barrel, and walked across the street

“Hi. Welcome to Elk Crossing,” she said hesitantly but with a smile. “I’m Anna. I was planting flowers at our place across the street and saw you come in.”

“Hi Anna,” the man nodded. “Glad to meet you. I’m Jared Jones.” He reached out and shook her hand, a shy smile on his face. He looked to be about thirty, and he was pale, as though he had been ill for some time. She noticed he wore a brace on the lower part of his left leg.

“Could you use some help unloading the truck?”

“I could, but I don’t want to impose.”

“No problem. I’m glad to help. Do you have family coming?”

“No. It’s just me.” A sharp look of pain crossed his face for an instant, then he relaxed.

“I can help,” she said.

“Thank you, Anna.”

Together they began unloading the truck in companionable silence, speaking only when necessary. Having two older brothers, Anna understood the need to focus on the job. She also knew he would be hungry after unloading.

“My mom has a beef roast in the oven and scalloped potates ready to add. Would you like to join us for supper?”

Jared’s face lit up. “That sounds great. What time?”

“In about an hour. We’ll see you then.” Anna smiled and headed back to her place to alert her mother about their guest and to finish planting the geraniums.

Over the next week, other neighbors stopped by to welcome Jared to town, and though he received many invitations to meals, he thanked them for the offers, but said he needed to focus on unpacking and getting the feed store open. They understood, but everyone was curious about him. Anna smiled quietly to herself when she heard of the invitations and said nothing.

Sunday after church, Jared accepted the invitation to join Anna’s family for lunch. Her brothers liked Jared, with reservations which they shared with her later.

“Anna, he’s a nice guy. But with that limp…and he wears a brace… you could do better,” Kurt said.

“You don’t want a man you’ll have to take care of,” Josh said. “You’ll want someone who will look after you, sis.”

Their wives nodded complacently, satisfied that their husbands were strong and healthy.

“You need to think about that when choosing a man,” Josh’s wife Mandi said.

“Of course,” Sally, Kurt’s wife, added with a nod.

Anna just smiled and ignored their interference. She had gone out with the various single men in town and was not interested in them. She’d gone to school with most of them since childhood and felt nothing but casual interest in them as adults. But she liked Jared. He had a dry sense of humor, and he rarely said anything unless it was worthwhile. Being quiet herself, Anna appreciated his reserve and good manners.

Later that week as she was working again in the garden, Jared walked across the street.

“Anna, I’m not familiar with what people need in a feed store around here. Would you advise me?”

“Sure.” Anna stood and walked across the street with Jared. She told him what the last owner had carried, and he promptly ordered those items.

Jared took frequent breathers as he stacked the heavier items when they arrived. “I can’t work as steadily as I used to,” he commented. “I spent the last several months at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in D.C. recovering from an injury.”

“Oh! You were in the Army?”

“Yes. I flew a chopper in Afghanistan for a few years. Got hit in the knee with a bullet when I was pulling some soldiers out of an ambush by the Taliban. Army sent me home.”

“You flew a helicopter in a war zone?”

“Yes. It was dangerous work, but I enjoyed it.”

Later that day, Jared invited Anna over to his store for tea and cookies, which he had bought at the local bakery. Later he showed Anna through the house. Though he didn’t have a lot of furniture, it was enough to get by. She noted with satisfaction the guitar in the corner and the bookcase in the living room which indicated there were shared interests between them.

Anna saw a framed portrait of Jared and a dark-haired woman on his dresser. They looked happy and in love.

Jared reached for the photo. “This was my wife. Her name was Hunoon, which means compassionate. And she was truly compassionate. I adored her. She and her family were secretly Christians, which was not accepted in her village. We were only married a few months when the Taliban massacred Hunoon and her family when she was visiting her aunt in a nearby village. She was expecting our first child.”

Anna heard the grief in his voice. She touched his arm gently. “I’m so sorry, Jared.”

“Thanks for caring.” He inhaled and stood straighter. “Let’s get outside in the sun. It helps.”

“I noticed you are planting geraniums. Do you buy them locally?” he asked, changing the subject.

“No. We have to drive into Casper for flowers. It’s too expensive to drive all that distance, and I usually like a lot of color in my garden, which is also expensive. I winter over my geraniums. That helps keep the cost down.”

“Hm. I see. I wondered about flowers. I haven’t seen any stores in town that carry them. I was thinking about putting a greenhouse behind the feed store and growing flowers as well as fruit and vegetables to sell locally.”

“What a good idea!”

“Will you help me? I don’t know what the people here like to grow.”

“Sure. Be glad to.”

Anna’s brothers scoffed when she mentioned the greenhouse idea. It didn’t seem manly enough for them. But she kept her thoughts about Jared to herself and didn’t tell them about his military experience. She knew his worth and respected his private confidences. Jared would speak up when he was ready.

By July, Jared had the greenhouse up and operating. He imported plants to get started, and they sold well. The feed store was a necessity in their community, and the ranchers were grateful to have a nearby supplier.

Over a Sunday dinner in October, Josh and Kurt announced they were going on an elk hunt back in the wild country. Their freezers were getting low on meat for their families. Jared asked where they would be hunting. That was all it took to turn the conversation toward elk, deer and antelope habitats and past hunting stories.

Josh and Kurt had been gone for almost a week when Josh called on his satellite phone. “Kurt and I are stranded in the canyon east of Red Mesa. He broke his leg. We need to be airlifted out. Call 911.”

Anna called the emergency number. Soon a helicopter landed in field outside of town. She drove out to meet the pilot and showed him where her brothers were located.

He studied the map and shook his head. “Well, I can try. But I don’t think I can land in that canyon. It’s too narrow. I’ll have to land about six miles away. We’re going to need more help.”

“We have an experienced helicopter pilot who flew in Afghanistan living in town. He might be able to fly in, if you’re willing to let him.” Anna searched the pilot’s face.

“He flew in ‘Stan, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to talk with him. I served there myself, and the country is wilder than this. I’ve seen those chopper pilots dive into places I’d never attempt.”

Anna drove him over to the store and led him inside. “Jared, Josh called. He and Kurt are stranded in a canyon east of Red Mesa. Kurt broke his leg. I called for an emergency airlift, but the pilot—what is your name?”

“It’s Henry, ma’am.”

“Thank you. Henry doesn’t think he can get into the canyon. Would you take a look at the map and see if you might be able to help?”

Jared walked over, looked the location over carefully and asked a few questions. “Sure. I could do that, if you’re willing to let me fly?” He looked at the pilot.

“Anyone who flew in ‘Stan is good enough for me. I know what y’all did. Let’s go.”

At the helicopter, Jared climbed into the pilot seat and donned the headgear. Glancing back at Anna, whose brows were furrowed with concern, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Better get back. I’m going to start it up.”

Anna moved away and the blades began to move. The helicopter rose into the air and flew toward Red Mesa in the distance.

Anna called Sally, Kurt’s wife, and let her know what was happening. Sally drove their van over and waited nervously for the helicopter to return.

“He was a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan?” she asked, her eyebrows rising high. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I don’t share what people tell me in private.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “Tsk,” she snorted.

Less than an hour later, they heard the chopper returning and drove out to the field. Sally drove the van to meet the aircraft. Josh and Henry moved Kurt out of the helicopter on a stretcher and brought him to the van.

Jared had climbed down from the helicopter and handed his headgear to the pilot, who shook his hand. “Man, I’ve never seen anything like it! You did a fantastic job, sir.”

Jared smiled. “Lots of practice.”

The pilot flew Kurt and Sally toward the hospital in Casper, leaving Anna with Josh and Jared in the field.

“So, Jared, how many missions did you fly into the mountains of Afghanistan?” Josh asked with great interest.

Anna smiled quietly and listened as Jared opened up about his life to her brother. They hardly noticed when she left them talking in the field and drove home. She knew just what to expect later that afternoon when Josh dropped by the house.

“He’s quite a guy,” Josh said quietly, patting Anna on the shoulder.

“Yes, he is.” Anna smiled.

That evening Jared and Anna sat on his porch swing listening to the crickets.

“Anna, thank you for recommending me for that helicopter rescue flight. It meant a lot to me.”

“You were obviously the man for the job,” she said complacently.

Jared slipped his arm over her shoulder and drew her closer.

Anna leaned her head against his shoulder. This was her man. She understood him and loved him just the way he was.

Complete acceptance and respect. It is the mark of true love which lasts forever. Anna smiled into the night, knowing she would never again feel alone as long as Jared was by her side.