Marybeth marveled at the amount of work the men got done that day. She and Eve had visited inside, after Eve gave her a tour of the house. It was a charming place, and Eve hadmade it quite homey with furniture she’d managed to buy locally. She said it would have to do until spring, when they planned to ship out some of the things they’d left in Indiana. It made Marybeth think that perhaps she should have asked George to put some of her furniture in storage so they could ship it out in the spring.
By evening, the outside walls and roof were complete. It hadn’t been shingled, but Edward assured her that would be done soon enough. Every day the next week, Fred and Edward took a couple of hours before their shift to work on the place. Sometimes another man or two joined them, but mostly it was just the two of them now that the walls were in place.
The biggest concern was the cookstove. New ones cost far too much money and would take quite a while to have shipped. Fred thought he knew someone he could talk to about getting a used one, but most of the stoves in Cheyenne were hard-won prizes that nobody wanted to part with.
Marybeth was almost to the point where she would have found a way to make a campfire for heat in the shed. Didn’t the native people of the plains put campfires in their teepees? She knew she had heard or read about that somewhere. The shed still had dirt for floors. Maybe she should suggest that.
Life in a tent got harder as the temperatures continued to drop. Then the snowstorm came. It was over a week later than Melody’s father predicted, but it was a bad one, and the only thing Marybeth could do was pray.
Carrie came and crawled up on her lap as the wind howled. She put her hands over her ears, and Marybeth did her best to offer comfort.
“It’s just the wind, baby. It won’t be like this forever.” At least she hoped it wouldn’t be. So far there had been plentyof wind since their arrival in Cheyenne, and Marybeth wasn’t exactly sure it ever died down.
“Wanna go play with boys,” Carrie announced.
“We can’t go outside. It’s snowing too hard. It’s called a blizzard.”
“Izard.”
“Close enough.” Marybeth hugged her sister close.
Thankfully, Edward had replenished their coal supplies just before the storm hit. They would keep warm enough, so long as the tent didn’t blow away. Marybeth was grateful that the owner of the tent had put in the extra stakes to hold it in place. Melody had assured her that they’d not had winds so bad that any of the tents were uprooted, but there was always a first time for things. At least that’s the way Marybeth saw it. She had nightmares about the tent picking up off the ground, and the wind whisking all their meager belongings across the vast landscape.
By eight o’clock that evening, Marybeth knew she should encourage Carrie to go to bed. The wind was still wreaking havoc outside, however, and the poor girl was more frightened than ever. Marybeth started singing hymns that she could remember, and that seemed to help. Carrie tried to sing along as well.
The familiar words of comfort began to ease her tensions. Finally, Marybeth got the Bible out and motioned Carrie to their pallet. Marybeth brought the lantern and positioned it safely away from the bed, atop the crate.
She opened to the Psalms, her favorite place to go when worries overwhelmed. Psalm Ninety-One was an all-time favorite in time of storms.
“‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say ofthe LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.’”
“I trust God,” Carrie added in a sleepy tone, then yawned.
“Yes.” Marybeth smiled and bent to kiss Carrie’s forehead. “I trust God.”
Carrie smiled and clutched her doll close. She closed her eyes, and Marybeth continued to read. “‘Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day....’” Marybeth let the words fade away.
God had always comforted with the Bible. He was always there and would always see her through. She had only to keep near Him—to look to Him for her shelter and protection.
Why was it so hard to remember that? She found herself fretting about Edward and his job. She worried about being left alone with Carrie. They had made friends of the Hendersons and Doyles, but they could only help so much. People weren’t where her faith should rest. That was the truth of it, and Marybeth needed to remember that without allowing herself to fall into despair.
A heavy gust shook the walls of the tent, drawing her attention. She watched for a moment, then glanced at her sister to see if she was afraid. But Carrie’s eyes remained closed. She was falling asleep or already there. She wasn’t afraid. She trusted Marybeth to take care of her, and she trusted God. Marybeth wondered if Carrie understood those words and what they meant.
Did she herself understand them? What did it really mean to trust God? If she still fretted and worried about things,did she really trust? She wanted to give up all her worries and fears and trust God for everything. There was certainly nothing she could do in and of herself.
I’m trying so hard, Lord. Iwant to trust You completely. I want to give Youevery worry I have and know that You have already provided for each need.She smoothed back Carrie’s hair from her face and pulled her covers up around her head.I want to trust You like this child trusts me ... and You.
Marybeth got up and took the lantern to the table. She placed the Bible there as well and smiled. It was going to be all right. She just had to remember that, even when things around her looked bad. She needed to trust God the most at those times and remember His faithfulness.
She slipped out of her shoes and blew out the lantern. Let the wind howl. She would go to bed and pray for as long as she had the ability to stay awake. She would pray for all those she knew and loved. Especially Edward. He had to be out in this storm, patrolling. Hopefully evil men would give up their practice and stay in their homes to avoid the snow.
Edward felt as if he were frozen to the bone. He couldn’t feel his feet anymore, and that gave him grave concern. It reminded him of times during the war. The early years when the regiment had escorted prisoners to St. Louis. The Twenty-Fifth Regiment had been assigned to that area shortly after their formation. Edward easily remembered the freakish ice storm and desperate drop in temperatures as they marched the Confederate men. He had thought they all might freeze to death. But just as fast as it came on, the temperatures warmed the next day, and the sun came out to melt any remaining ice. He wished the sun would come out here.
It had been three days of this brutal storm. Snowdrifts were everywhere, and the winds were relentless. The temperatures were so low that even animals were brought inside, if possible. He couldn’t help but wonder how Marybeth and Carrie were faring. This night had been the worst of it. Old-timers from elsewhere told Edward that meant the storm would soon play itself out and come to an end. He prayed that might be so.
The bad weather had done little to calm bad tempers or even keep men at home. Most were more at home in the bawdy and gambling houses anyway. They came there to keep from losing their minds to the constant moan of the winds. Fred said it had a way of making people go crazy, and Edward had seen more than one man lose his composure and start a senseless fight.
Now as he headed home, Edward could only pray that the storm would dissipate and calm would return. Well, whatever calm could be had in Cheyenne.
