WIND OVER MARSHDALE - First chapters ... Copyright - 2012 All rights reserved - Tracy Krauss |  |
“Alas, sinful nation; people weighed down with iniquity. Offspring
of evil doers; sons who act corruptly. They have abandoned the
Lord…they have despised the Holy One…
Come now and let us reason together, says the Lord. Though your
sins be like scarlet, they will be as white as snow.”
Isaiah 1: 4 & 18 (NASB)
Chapter One
A whispered breath skimmed across the long prairie grass like a
giant invisible hand stroking the fur of a silken feline. The screech of an
eagle echoed through the valley as it dipped and glided above the river. The
rounded slopes of the bank rose above the swiftly flowing water while
small clumps of trees clustered nearby but for the most part the land
stretched uninterrupted toward the horizon.
In the distance, a faint rumbling could be heard. It began to shake
the earth as it drew nearer. A cloud of dust accompanied the approaching
mass. Hooves pounded. Nostrils dilated. Eyes reddened with fear. The
musky stench of sweat mixed with the heat and dust.
The huge beasts moved en masse toward the precipice. Thousands
of shaggy heads bobbed in unison as the herd of bison stampeded forward.
As if in slow motion, they continued on, up and over the sharp bank of the
river into the ravine below. One by one, they hurtled forward, oblivious to
the fate that awaited them, as they toppled headlong to their deaths.
Thomas shot up in bed, panting. The T-shirt he wore clung
to his body with sweat. It was not the first time the dream had
come to wake him.
He took a deep breath, disentangled himself from the sheets,
and rose to get a drink of water. No point going back to bed now.
He wouldn’t sleep anyway. He padded down the narrow hallway,
passing the half closed doorways that sheltered his sleeping
children. Ducking to avoid hitting his head as he entered the tiny
kitchen, he paused for a moment to look at the expanse of
landscape beyond the window. Mostly flat, with a rise of gently
rolling hills in the distance, it was clothed with a carpet of rippling
grass except for the odd patch of dry fallow. Just like in the dream.
The early morning sunrise was just beginning to filter in,
reaching to shed some light in the shadowed corners of the room.
Thomas had managed to rent a house near the outskirts of town.
Correction. It wasn’t exactly a house. The realtor called it a “double
wide.” Okay, it was a trailer, but it was the only property for rent in
Marshdale at the moment. At least, that was what the realtor had
said. It wasn’t the nicest place—rather dingy if truth be told—and it
was farther from school than Thomas would have liked, but it was
still within walking distance. Better than the overcrowded and
dilapidated homes he’d been used to as a child.
But that was another time. Another life.
He was here now, for better or for worse, and the people of
Marshdale would just have to accept it. He was Thomas Lone Wolf,
proud of his Cree ancestry, and determined to do something about
it. As a community liaison, he’d worked with dozens of indigenous
groups all over the western provinces trying to set up business
propositions. This time was different, though. It was personal.
With practiced fingers he undid his nighttime braid and
shook out his hair, which fell well past his shoulders. Even at forty,
there was no sign of graying or hair loss. It was straight, coarse and
black, just like his ancestors’ - he was the perfect picture of a Cree
warrior.
Now that he was awake, he allowed himself to replay the
dream in his mind - at least the parts that he could remember. Like
most dreams, the initial clarity soon faded after just a few waking
moments. There were buffalo - always buffalo. And they seemed
bent on suicide, careening to their deaths before he could stop them
somehow.
He was going to start writing it down. The theme was too
familiar; the mixture of fear and power too real. Some people said
you dreamt in black and white. Thomas wasn’t sure about that. He
knew there was blood in his dream - and lots of it. The redness of it
stood out in stark contrast to the muted prairie landscape. And the
stench. That unmistakable metallic scent filled his nostrils to such a
degree that he could almost swear he still smelled it. Almost. But
that was ridiculous and he pushed the memory of the coagulating
stains out of his mind.
With a sigh he turned back to the cupboards and started
readying the coffee. It would soon be time to wake the children and
get ready for work himself. Another grueling day of lobbying for
something that should be rightfully his to begin with. Reality didn’t
stop for dreams.
****
Rachel Bosworth pulled her car over to the side of the road;
gravel crunching under her tires, and came to a rolling stop. She
put the car in park, pulled the emergency brake into place with a
jerk, and stepped out of the confined, yellow compact. She inhaled
a deep lungful of the late summer air, surveying the picture of
pastoral serenity below.
Marshdale. This was to be her new home. Surrounded by a
patchwork of gold and brown earth, it was an oasis of clustered
houses and well established trees cocooned in a desert of wide
open prairie landscape. Stretched out to the horizon, the summer
sky met with rounded hills.
“Not very big,” Rachel’s friend Sherri noted, joining her on
the outside of the vehicle. “You sure you’re going to manage way
out here all by yourself?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Rachel said with a satisfied smile. “Just
the change I needed.”
“Just the escape, you mean,” Sherri teased.
“Maybe.” Rachel turned to her friend. “Come on, Sherri. I’m
feeling scared enough as it is. This is a big move for me. Besides,
you’re the one who convinced me to move out west in the first
place.”
“Yeah, I know. But I meant for you to move to Regina with
Dan and me, not out to some backwoods hole in the wall. They
probably don’t even have cell service, for Pete’s sake!”
“It can’t be as bad as that. The hiring committee said
Marshdale was a totally modern town with all the basic amenities.”
“Yeah? Let’s hope so,” Sherri quipped, shading her eyes
with her hand as she surveyed the town below them.
“Come on, Sherri. You’re my best friend. I need you to be
excited for me. Tell me I made a good decision and that I won’t
regret it,” Rachel begged.
“You’re right, kiddo.” Sherri put on her most encouraging
smile. “It will be nice to see you more often, even if it is a two-hour
drive.”
Rachel nodded. “What’s a two-hour drive compared to
thousands of miles all the way back to Toronto?”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet some cute farmer and end
up getting married or something.” Sherri shrugged.
“Not interested in men right now, remember? I am here to
become the best kindergarten teacher Marshdale has ever seen.”
“Sorry. That was insensitive of me. I know you’re still
hurting over Rotten Ronny.”
“Who?” Rachel asked, raising a brow.
“That’s the spirit!” Sherri laughed. “Who needs men,
anyway?”
“Better not let Dan hear you talking like that,” Rachel
warned with a chuckle of her own. “Come on. Let’s get going. I can
hardly wait to get my stuff unpacked.”
“I can’t believe you brought so little stuff with you,” Sherri
observed, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I wanted to start fresh.” Rachel put the small standard
vehicle in gear and rolled forward. “Besides, moving a whole lot of
furniture and stuff seemed pointless. I’ve rented this really nice
little basement suite. It’s fully furnished. And that’s what you’re
here for, remember? I need your expert advice on what stuff I need
to buy in the city before school starts next week.”
“Now, shopping is one thing I’m very good at.”
“I know.” Rachel nodded with a grin. “It’s why I brought
you along.”
“Thanks. I thought it was for the company.”
“Of course. That too.” Rachel laughed. She sobered quickly
and glanced over at her friend. “Thanks, Sherri. For everything.”
“What are you talking about?” Sherri waved a dismissive
hand. “I’d be some friend if I didn’t come to your rescue when
called.”
“I mean about Ronald. I don’t know how I would have
coped without you there.”
“I know, kid.” Sherri gave Rachel’s hand a squeeze. “That’s
what friends are for. Besides, I’ll expect pay back someday, you
know.”
They were nearing the outskirts of the village. A large
carved sign by the side of the road read, “Welcome to Marshdale.”
“I bet people live more freely here,” Rachel stated. “It’s what
I’m hoping for. The simple life.”
“People have problems wherever they go,” Sherri noted. “It
may look all peaceful right now, but I bet they have their share of
troubles, just like everybody else.”
“Yeah, like what? No cell service?” Rachel asked, the corner
of her mouth turning up.
“Now that would be tragic.”
“I know my life isn’t suddenly going to become a bed of
roses,” Rachel admitted. “But it just seems to me that country
living - the slower pace - has to do something to calm people.
Make them less artificial and - you know - less selfish.”
“We can only hope,” Sherri shrugged. “Now come on,
girlfriend. Let’s find that basement suite of yours. If we’re going to
unpack, make a list, and get back to the city before dark, we better
get a move on.”
“Roger that.” Rachel nodded, glancing at the hand--- sketched
map that was on the dash. She made a left hand turn at the first
intersection.
****
The interior of the church was cool, quiet and dim. Just the
way Pastor Todd Bryant liked it. He sat on one of the upholstered
chairs in the sanctuary, allowing the viscosity of stillness to envelop
him like a silky smooth liquid.
Sometimes he wished he could stay in here forever, without
having to go out there. The recently refurbished sanctuary was a
peaceful place compared to the world just outside its double oak
doors. When he had come here just a year ago, he knew the
Marshdale Community Church would be a place of refuge; a place
to rest and strengthen his own weary spirit. A place to hide.
Modern and well kept, the Community Church had the
appearance of comfortable affluence - a testament to God’s favor.
The folks who attended were proud of their commitment to the
Lord’s work in Marshdale and God had blessed them with material
prosperity. They required little actual input from the pastor. Just
keep the ship running smoothly, as instructed by the board, and
everything should be just fine.
Perfect. His less than amiable departure from his last church
had left him feeling just a bit shell-shocked. He needed a place to
hide out for a while. As long as he followed the program…
****
Another soul sat alone, waiting. The room was dark, the
slatted shades drawn over the open window. The only light came
from three candles burning in their resting places on the pentagram
table top. The air was rich with the heady scent of incense
smoldering in the small, intricately designed brass burner. The
woman breathed deeply. Empty the mind. Allow the inner self to
emerge…
A sudden breeze whipped into the room, announcing its
entrance with a slap of the wooden slats on the window frame. It
caressed the chimes hanging nearby before darting to tease the
three flames into a flickering dance.
She smiled. Yes. There was so much to share, to enrich the
lives in this town. There were many paths to enlightenment, but
ultimately they all ended one way. It was up to her to release this
narrow-minded and stiff-necked people to accept that.
