Cowboy, Take Me Away

{3. Saying Her Good-Byes}

"He's going to take me, Momma." I tell the small gravestone at the back corner of the church's graveyard. It's much cleaner and less weather worn than the surrounding stones. "I had to sell your locket." My hand goes to the base of my throat, there's an empty part of me now. "Beau didn't want to agree so I feel terrible, but I was thinking-" When I sit down next to the stone, my fingers gently brush the rough edges. "Maybe I could fall in love with him, someday. You know he's a hard worker." I can still picture the young teenager running into the mercantile after school, quickly sweeping the floors before running home to do farm chores. "He's very kind." My mind wanders to his concern over the dark marks Wyatt left on my jaw. There was a mysterious, almost dangerous glint in his eye. "Oh, Momma," I sigh, picking at the surrounding grass. "I just wish you were here to tell me this isn't a terrible mistake." I still there for a few more minutes, in silence, missing my beautiful mother, that is until I hear someone approach from behind.

"I figured you may be here." Beau's voice causes me to turn toward him.

"Just saying goodbye,"I softly tell him, watching as he sits on the other side of Momma's gravestone. His slacks and cloth shirt are covered in mud, and his suspenders worn and faded. He looks tired too, as if he's just done the work of three men.

He probably has.

We sit in silence for a few moments before he speaks up.

"It's not too late." He tells me, causing me look up and meet his gaze. My ice blue's meet his emerald green which hold a mysterious sadness. "It's not too late to change your mind. I haven't written Owen, so we're the only souls that know. You still have a choice." He says in a rush, as if he's scared he won't be able to say it.

"I know for a fact I'll never have a choice again if I stay." I try to study Beau's face and every emotion that flitters through when I ask the next question. "Will my opinion be heard if I go?"

"If there is a choice to be made, you will have a say." He promises, and I nod.

"Well, my say in this matter is that I'd like to go. But please, Beau," His eyes widen slightly as I take his hand. "I realize this is a sickly selfish request, so, if there is someone else-"

"No." He pulls his hand away to wave me off. "There is no one else, but marriage is serious to me, Brianna," For the first time, his voice as he says my name makes me want to shiver. His tone is gruff as he he says his next words. "Please, when you climb into wagon tomorrow, be sure that this is what you want - to be the wife of a farmer." With a soft nod he turns back to my mother's gravestone. "I'll leave you to say good-bye." And then he's gone.

---
"Momma." My voice was hoarse from the hours spent crying. "What will I do without you?" I asked woman, who,although deathly pale, was still beautiful. Her dark hair fell onto the pillow in waves, and her crystal blue eyes shined like the sea.

"Oh my darling," her smooth, soothing voice reaches my ears just a her hand starts to pat my head. "It will be hard at first, and your Papa, he will need you. Beau will help, won't you Beau?" My mother's eyes

"I'll always be here for her." Beau's voice breaks off at the end, when I turn to glance at him, I notice his hat clenched tightly in his hands, and my heart breaks even more. He loves my mother too.

"Brianna, go check on your father, please." My mother requests, patting my hand. "I'd like to talk to Beau about something."

I stand at the same time Beau does. Goodness, he looks just how I feel - devastated. He barely glances at me before taking the seat I was in, leaning close to my mother.

Beau was always around the next few months, from that terrible November to when he left to seed his brothers farm in March. For five months, Beau was there everyday. When he returned

"Papa," my father looks away from his pipe, when I call to him, setting down my pen. "Why doesn't Beau like to come over anymore?"

My father studied my face for a moment before returning to filling his pipe.

"We had a disagreement after your mother died." He slowly exhales a puff of tobacco. "I broke off an agreement."

"Papa!" The disappointment in my voice is clear. "You were dishonest with him."

"I am sorry for the boy, and I wish I didn't have to be the way it was; but I did what was best." My father continues, not at all phased by the horror in my voice. "For everyone involved, and I won't apologize."

"What was the agreement?" I ask, seeing my father grow frustrated, and huff with impatience.

"It's doesn't matter, Brianna." He inhales deeply, puffing the smoke out moments later.

"Mama, would be disappointed." I whisper, and, from across the room, I see him go completely still.

"Then so be it." He mutters, effectively ending the conversation, then returns to the pipe. With a sigh, it return to my letter.

Dear Papa,
By the time you read this I will be gone. Beau, although not happy, has agreed to take me with him. I know you wish me to marry Wyatt, but I dont think I can.
Papa, I don't love him and I know I never will.
I don't love Beau either, but maybe one day I will. My prayer now is that we can grow to love each other the way you and Mama did. I also pray that you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Please know that I am happier when I would ever be with Wyatt, and that Beau will take care of me- after all he did promise Mama. Good-bye, Papa.
I promise to write you as often as I can.

With all the love in my heart,
- Your Little Brianna
-
Hours later, when Papa still hadn't moved from his chair, I went and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, tightly hugging him. "I'm so sorry Papa."

"In the past, my dear." He brushes me off with a slight pat on the hand. "All is for given. Now kiss me goodnight and go to bed."

"Goodnight Papa, I love you." I quickly peck his cheek, his white whiskers tickling my cheek.

Then, with a racing heart and churning stomach, I laid in bed, unable to sleep for even a moment.

Then, when just a sliver of sun light was peaking through the horizon, I heard it.

The steady roll of a wagon up the dirt path.

Beau was here.

It was time.

***