Bitterness churned inside me living in the town where my husband was shot and killed over a wayward smile. I breathed easy on the range, having ridden from the town until it looked like a speck from my tail.

Beyond a rivulet of a dry creek bed, I climbed the rise and saw where my heart lived. A breeze lifted and revived my spirit, as I witnessed the resurrection of my homestead. The men on the skeleton structure waved their hats from above and seemed pleased to see me. I breathed a deep sigh.

As I rode closer, I hoped my infant son could feel my excited heart while snug in his homemade sling. Though I shaded my eyes from the sun I did not see Jake McCord among the men. I had no mind to speak to him this side of heaven. Between us was no bridge far enough that could be made. My hope of homestead was resurrected.

I slipped from the saddle and laid my baby on a horse blanket. He squinted from the sun and fussed some until I fixed him on his backside in the shade of the oak tree near his father's grave. He squirmed and kicked his legs with a smiling affirmation. "This is your land, son. Your Pa saw to it. And when I rest my eyes, I see corn higher than a horse's bridle. I see pigs in a pen, cows in the pasture, and free-roaming chickens. We're not poor-by no stretch."

Tad rounded the corner from my well with a skin of water slung over his back. His dark face glowed with sweat. "Well now, Miss Taylor come to save some men from starvation."

As the men shimmied down the ladder, I chimed in. "I believe the men were happier to see my basket and have a nose for my biscuits."

Tad flung the skin of water on a table where the men could gather. "They sure do sniff better than they hit the square head of a nail."

One of the men commented, "I don't see you up there, Tad."

Tad reached for his rifle. "Somebody got to catch you when you fall, and me an ole Henry do just fine with feet planted on the ground."

As the men stirred around the meal that was spread, I slipped away to check on my son.

Tad followed me like a shadow. "Miss Taylor, have you heard the news?"

My thoughts raced. "Another Indian raid, Tad?"

"No, Ma'am. It's Jake."

After I stuck a pacifier in my son's eager mouth, I stood and turned with my hands on my hips. "I don't want to hear of Jake."

"I just thought you should know, Mrs. McCord. She near lost her mind."

A lump caught in my throat. My heart leaped inside. "What's he done now?"

"Jake done signed up with the union army. He never gave his mother a chance to run him down. By the time she got a note, the train had left the station."

It flared in my head, how I told him I wished Jake were dead. My mind was a storm of emotions. I feared his mother would blame me. "I should go see her then."

"He told his mother he'd keep his head low. But what he told the men in the bunkhouse don't fit with it none at all."

His words drove me to the ground beside my boy. I looked away into a blue sky with a veil of thin clouds.

"He said he knew how to take a bullet if need be for the cause."

Tad's words tumbled on me like a landslide. I was buried in guilt.

"I'm off to see Lydia, Tad." I wiped the tears on the sleeve of my dress and secured my son between myself in the honey-haired mare. I left Tad standing there with his weathered hat in his hands.

I rode hard as I dared with my son in his sling through tufts of grass until the trail broadened and my spirited horse found her stride.

Over the rolling hills, the ranch house loomed larger. My horse galloped under the gate toward it kicking up a dust cloud. I dismounted with my child. I met Lydia on the porch. We hugged with the child between us like a long lost family.

I stood back to see her sea-green eyes, deep enough to drown any soul. "I heard. I'm at fault for this."

Lydia shook her head. She placed the cold palm of her hands on my face. "No child. Do not put this on your head. You've done nothing but try to live through one hardship over another. I'll not have him be your burden."

"But I...I..."

"Say no more." Lydia placed her finger on my lips. "Good Lord knows how to get my attention. Praying helps to settle the soul."

I nodded, though my stomach was in knots.

Lydia wrestled the child from me and held him up. We need to thank the Lord for his tender mercies in a broken world."

We sat together on the front porch swing, catching up and watching the shadows of the day grow long.

We wondered what would become of the world around us with war closing in from all sides. We lived too close to the Sioux who raided the settlers. Fighting between the states pushed west with skirmishes in Kansas.

In the distance a storm brewed. The skies blackened like ink on blue. The winds whipped through us and cut to the bone.

We fought the wind and found Tara inside. The four of us made it to the root cellar outside as the funnel cloud took us for a bullseye. We hunkered down in the cool damp air with hardly a word between us, praying for a heap of God's tender mercies.