Franz smiled and tipped his head in the direction of the window. “I saw you carry him outside a few moments ago. At first, I thought he must be some sort of panther, but then I realized he is only an enormous housecat.”
“I still can’t believe how big he’s grown. When I found him, he was starved and so tiny he could sit in my palm. He’d somehow been separated from his mother, not even weaned. I bottle fed him for weeks and—”
“And now you have quite a fine specimen of a feline,” he interrupted. Rising, he turned up a lamp and joined her near the bed. “You are here to check on your father?”
Maggie focused on the frail man nearly lost in the bedclothes. “Will he—” She swallowed against more useless tears and tried again. “How is he?”
“As well as can be expected, liebschen. You know he is very ill, ja?”
She nodded. “We shouldn’t have been traveling, but he refused to wait any longer to leave. All he would say when I tried to argue was now is as good as next week, and we’ll be there a week sooner.” She shook her head. “So stubborn.”
“It is truly surprising you have gotten him this far. He is a strong-willed man, I think, fighting so hard to live until his beloved daughter is safe in a place where she will be cared for after he is gone.”
They stood together in silence for long minutes, watching her father’s chest rise and fall. “Is Papa going to get any better?” Maggie whispered the question, half-afraid of the answer.
Franz wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No, little one, he will not. I am sorry.”
Maggie couldn’t stop the trembling that began deep in her soul and spread until she could barely stand. Soon, she would be alone in a strange place with no means to continue on her journey to Denver and her last living relative.
“He will not leave you tonight, or perhaps for a few days yet, but he hasn’t the strength to get better.”
“Papa doesn’t want to get better,” she whispered. Admitting that aloud was more painful than she’d expected. “He wanted to join Mama long ago, but he stayed for me. Now, I am not enough to keep him here anymore.”
“Maggie, your Papa is not leaving you willingly. Believe me, you are the most important person in his world. Take comfort in that.”
Maggie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. After a few more minutes, she kissed her father’s cheek and returned to the cheerful bedroom she’d been given. Blowing out the candle she carried, she settled into the window seat and drew back the pretty lace curtains to look out over River’s Bend.
The moon was nearing the western horizon, leaving a little light by which to see the town. No one walked the streets. No animals darted past, pursuing or being pursued. No breeze teased the leaves from the trees. It was as if the world had stopped with the news she’d received.
She’d known her father was far more ill than he let on, but she’d allowed herself to carry hope in her heart. Now, even that was gone. Tears welled again, blurring her view. This time she let them come, cuddling Leo close, hoping—praying—some insight into her future would be apparent when the tears stopped.
****
Inevitably, morning came. The sun rose; another day started—though Maggie couldn’t find it in herself to greet it cheerfully. The citizens of River’s Bend began appearing, going about their lives without a thought for the woman watching from a window in a home that wasn’t hers.
Maggie rose from her seat, stiff from hours of staring through the glass at the passing world. Patting Leo’s head, she straightened her clothing. She needed to speak with the wagon master about how long they would wait for her before resuming the journey. Would they be patient until her father…
Her steps faltered. Why bother? He wasn’t going to get better. Her sweet Papa would never leave this pretty place in Missouri. He would die here. Be laid to rest here. And she would either remain or find a way to get to Denver, to a place where she would be denied even the comfort of visiting his grave. Dropping back into the window seat, she fought back another bout of useless weeping.
The other families in the wagon train might be willing to wait a day or two, but not the weeks it might be before she could leave. “Well, Margaret Marie, you’ll just have to find something you can do to be useful and put a roof over your head. That’s all there is to it.”
Trudging to the basin of water Rebekah had left for her, she listed aloud the skills she had that might be useful, frightened all over again at how few there were.
After her morning ablutions, Maggie released her hair from the long braid that had confined it and brushed out the tangles, counting strokes until it hung in shiny waves. “Perhaps something a bit prettier to lift my spirits.” Dividing the heavy mass, she plaited three separate braids and wound them into an intricate style. She was weaving a final ribbon through it when she heard footsteps descending the stairs.