Chapter Twelve

T he sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden haze over the Trinity ranch as the day waned into late afternoon. Erna, her hands working deftly as she made tiny pieces of fruit for the dollhouse, sat on the porch enjoying the lazy hum of cicadas when the quiet was shattered by the sound of frantic footsteps.

“Joel! Joel, help!” Deborah’s voice, laced with panic, cut through the serene air. Her dress, usually so neat, was wrinkled and dust-covered as she stumbled up the path to where Erna sat, wide-eyed.

“What in the world?” Erna murmured to herself, setting aside her work. She rose to her feet just as Joel burst from the barn, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Deborah? What’s wrong?” Joel called out, moving quickly toward the distressed young woman.

“Please, it’s urgent!” Deborah managed between ragged breaths, her normally timid nature overtaken by sheer desperation.

Without another word, Joel turned on his heel and strode back to the stable. Erna followed, her heart pounding with worry for both her sister and her husband. She arrived at the stable entry just in time to see Joel swing onto his horse, the animal’s sides heaving in anticipation.

“Joel, wait! What happened?” Erna asked, chasing after him, but Joel was already spurring his mount forward, the urgency in Deborah’s plea propelling him onward.

“No time, Erna. I’ll be back soon,” Joel called over his shoulder, leaving Erna clutching the wooden fence post, her knuckles white.

“Deborah, tell me what’s going on!” Erna insisted, turning to her sister who seemed to be regaining her composure, though her blue eyes still held fear.

“I...I have to get back,” Deborah stuttered, looking past Erna, her gaze fixed on the cloud of dust Joel left behind.

Left to her own devices, Erna’s imagination spun wild scenarios as she paced the length of the porch, her worries multiplying with each passing hour. The shadows lengthened and merged, and the ranch lamps flickered to life as night embraced the land.

“Shoulda heard something by now,” Erna muttered to herself, her attempts at optimism waning. She hugged her arms around her middle, trying to quell the unease that gnawed at her.

“Joel’s smart and strong. He’ll be fine,” she whispered into the darkness, more to convince herself than out of any real certainty.

It was late when the sound of horse hooves finally broke the evening’s silence. Erna, who had been sitting on the porch step with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, stood abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Joel!” she called out as her husband dismounted wearily. The lantern light illuminated his face, showing the lines of strain around his eyes.

“Outsiders,” Joel said curtly, his voice betraying his fatigue. He quickly went to work removing the horse’s saddle and wiping him down. “They’re causing trouble at Aaron and Deborah’s place.”

“Are you all right? What kind of trouble?” Erna asked, her worry for him shifting to alarm for her sister and brother-in-law.

Joel waved a dismissive hand as he trudged closer. “Nothing we can’t handle. Aaron needs men to stand with him, is all.”

Erna frowned, not convinced, but knew better than to press Joel for details when he was this worn down. Instead, she reached out and took his hand, leading him inside.

Over the next few days, tension hummed through the air like a taut wire. The sisters met up more often than usual, their conversations a mix of hushed tones and reassuring smiles. Erna and Deborah would sit on Erna’s porch, knitting needles clicking softly as they kept an eye on the horizon.

“Joel says it could turn into a range war,” Erna shared quietly one afternoon as Deborah added another row to her scarf.

Deborah looked up, her hands stilling for a moment. “I pray it doesn’t come to that,” she murmured, her gaze drifting off toward the dusty road that led to their homes.

“Me too,” Erna agreed, reaching over to give Deborah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

Erna’s heart skipped a beat at the distant crack of gunfire that shattered the afternoon calm. She dropped her knitting and stood up from the porch swing, shielding her eyes against the sun to see better. Off toward the west, where the sky met the land, a plume of smoke unfurled like a dark flag.

“Deborah, look!” she called out, pointing toward the horizon.

Deborah set aside her scarf, her blue eyes wide with alarm. “That can’t be good,” she whispered, clutching the fabric of her dress.

“Joel said they might come,” Erna said, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. “The outsiders.”

“Let’s hope it’s just a small brush fire,” Deborah replied, though her tone held little conviction.

As the sisters stood there, helpless spectators to the unfolding drama, more shots rang out. The fire continued to grow, its bright flames licking the sky as if taunting them.

“Come on,” Erna said with sudden resolve. “We need to find the others. We’ve got to do something.”

They hurried inside, abandoning their afternoon of knitting for the urgency of action. The two women knew that every moment mattered now, and their feet pounded the wooden floorboards as they gathered water and supplies.

Hours dragged by, each minute heavier than the last, until finally, dust-covered riders approached in the twilight. Joel was among them, his face grim and his shoulders slumped in a way that made Erna’s stomach knot with worry.

“Joel!” she called out, running to meet him. “What happened?”

“Outsiders,” he said curtly, dismounting with an exhausted groan. “It was a distraction. While we were putting out the fire, they hit Aaron’s place hard.”

Erna felt Deborah’s hand grip hers, squeezing tight enough to hurt. “Aaron?” Deborah’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with fear.

“Wounded,” Joel replied. “But alive. You should’ve seen your sister, Erna. Deborah fought like a wildcat, defending the ranch till we got there.”

“Is he—will he be okay?” Erna asked, her voice cracking.

“Doc’s with him now,” Joel said, offering what reassurance he could. “She held down the fort, literally. Sheriff came and took them away, every one of them wounded. Your sister can shoot!”

IT WASN’T UNTIL THE following day, that Joel found Erna sitting alone on the porch steps. His silhouette was stooped, a stark contrast to his usual sturdy posture.

“Erna,” Joel began, his voice catching in his throat, “the fire was a ruse. It burned through our grazing land.”

Erna’s heart lurched. She rose to stand beside him, reaching out to grasp his hand. “How bad?”

“Bad enough,” Joel admitted, staring out at the charred expanse where lush grass once waved under the Texas sky. “Took me six years to save for that land. It was supposed to be our future.”

“Joel,” Erna said softly, squeezing his hand. “We can handle this.”

Joel’s gaze lingered on the scorched earth that stretched before them. All he could see were his shattered dreams He turned to Erna, the furrow in his brow deepening. “Erna, there’s not much left for us here. Not now. Maybe you should head over to Faith and Kane’s place for a spell. Just until I figure things out.”

“Joel, I’m not leaving you to shoulder this alone.”

“Times are lean,” he insisted, his voice a gruff murmur that matched the rustling of the charred prairie grass. “I can’t promise you more than hard work and longer days.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Erna’s smile broke through the worry that creased her face, as warm and inviting as the smell of fresh bread from her oven. “Hard work never scared me, Joel Trinity. And as for longer days...” She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It just means more time with you.”

Joel chuckled despite the weight on his shoulders. “You’re a stubborn woman, Erna.”

“Only about the important things,” she said. “Joel, we’re a team.” Erna’s hand found his as they stood by the corral under the vast Texas sky, still flushed with the day’s relentless heat. “Nothing will change that, not fire, nor drought, nor outsiders.”

Joel looked down at their interlocked fingers, the lines in his face softening. “Erna, it isn’t right for you to stay in this mess. You deserve...”

“Deserve?” Erna cut him off, shaking her head. “I don’t care about what I deserve. I care about us, and right now, us means sticking together.”

Erna argued until she was blue in the face, but nothing worked. The next morning she packed a small suitcase. She hesitated, then reached for the miniature dollhouse that sat atop the dresser.

“Thought you might want this over there,” Joel said from the doorway, watching as she tucked the dollhouse under her arm.

“Thanks, Joel.” Her eyes met his, a silent promise passing between them. “Won’t be but a few days. Just until the dust settles.”

“Take your time, Erna. Faith and Kane will look after you,” he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

With a nod, Erna made her way across the yard, the dollhouse secure in her grasp. Joel had already hitched the wagon up, and she put the house in the back, placing it carefully.

“Erna!” Faith called out from the porch as she approached, her voice carrying the same light-heartedness it always did.

“Hey, Faith,” Erna responded, stepping onto the wooden boards of the porch with a reassuring creak. “Brought my dollhouse. Figured I could use the distraction.”

“Perfect,” Faith said, opening the door wider. “We’ll set you up right here by the window. Best light for painting those tiny shutters, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Erna agreed, placing the dollhouse on the table Faith had cleared.

She looked at the dollhouse, and then out the window at her husband as he drove away. She understood why he wanted her there, but she wanted to be with him. He must not feel as much for her as she did for him.