(Approximately 8400 Words)
*Part 1: Abigail
Gilliam and his daughter Abigail ran the only general store for more than a day's ride in all directions. It was profitable because there were new farms and ranches going up in the area, and the cattle trails were just a few miles to the east and west. Cowboys found little Expiation, Kansas, and it didn't take long for young cowboys to discover Abigail. They would visit the store, buy some cheap items, and attempt to engage her in conversation. Occasionally, they were successful.
One drifter came by several times. He was not a cowboy, he was older, and he carried a pistol slung low like a gunfighter. Gilliam didn't like the looks of him: perhaps 30 years old, sneering, unshaven, a big notch out of his one ear, and a new model six shooter. Gill noticed Abigail talking with him over the porch rail once, and another time saw him walking one way as Abigail made her way home after delivering some items to the livery stable.
Gill talked to Abigail about men.
"I don't mean they're bad," he said emphatically, awkwardly, missing his wife gone almost seven years then. "You're very pretty, and they're attracted. You see them coming here just to look at you, or maybe say hello. But even the best boys can be consumed by desire, to where they can have trouble controlling themselves."
Abigail looked at him and smiled. "You want me to say no?" she asked. He had seen this coquettish playfulness in her before. Now he found it exasperating.
"You must," he said. "Even the good ones, remember." She looked at him, batted her eyes, and turned to her work.
Gilliam did not want to involve himself in her love life, but the man with the notched ear scared him. If she took up with such a man... He knew she had a wilder side, he'd heard her opinion of this and that and him and her. He didn't know where she learned to criticize people, but she did it easily and without compunction. It was a flippancy, as if she could dismiss someone from her interest for the flimsiest of reasons.
As she realized that she was beautiful, she gained confidence, Gill thought or hoped. He feared it was just a conceit.
He visited Ben Hammond that evening. Ben and his family had just moved to town and now owned the livery stables. Family included a son who hoped for a career in the ministry and had just finished study at the seminary in Dubuque. Ben and he discussed their children, and Gill expressed his concern that Abigail meet good men.
Next morning, Mark Hammond came by the store.
"Abigail," Gill called up to their rooms, "would you come down? There's someone I'd like you to meet."
She came down the stairs and over to them.
"Abigail, this is Mark Hammond. He just moved to town. Mark, my daughter Abigail." Gill stepped back as the two stood there awkwardly. After a moment, Gill said, "I have work to do," and the two young people were left to themselves. A half hour later, Gill heard Mark leave.
Abigail came over. "That was a little embarrassing," she said.
"Nice guy?" he asked.
"Yeah. But he keeps bringing up religion. He thinks Jesus walks on water!" she said with a laugh.
Gill raised an eyebrow at that, nodded, and quietly said, "I see."
But Mark Hammond came by and said hello a few more times, and Abigail decided to pass some time with him, to her father's surprise and delight. He hoped she was sincere. He saw them go on walks out to the pond just over the little hill, or around the town. They would sit in the little living room and talk.
As weeks became a month, she spoke approvingly of Mark. She had never spoken of any boy before, not in anything like approval. Her father thought it was going well. Mark was polite and good-natured and genuine, and seemed to have the prospect of employment as a minister soon in Nebraska. Mark and Abigail sat with Gill in the dark one evening, listening to the insects in the dusk warmth of summer, and they talked about Mark's faith and hopes. They sipped some warm wine saved for a good evening. He rocked slowly in his chair as the young couple sat on the divan.
"They've guaranteed me an income, not much, but enough to survive since I'll be living in the small house by their church," Mark said with a joy that only the hopeful young have.
Abigail's father nodded. Abigail leaned over and took Mark's hand, and for a moment rested her cheek on his shoulder. It was a display her mother would have discouraged, as her husband knew, but he would not. He thought it was warm and good, two young people looking to a future and exhibiting their affection, the first affection he'd seen from his daughter.
It was one of the sublime evenings of his life. He refused to question it, until later.
He saw the drifter with the notched ear one more time. He came in the general store. Abigail saw him as she was measuring bolts of canvas someone needed for a wagon. Gilliam noticed that she looked over at the drifter, locked eyes with him, then shook her head just the tiniest bit. The drifter came over to Gill at the counter, pulled some antelope jerky from the jar and put down the necessary change.
"Thanks, mister," he said to Gill. He gave one more glance to Abigail, who was carefully not looking back, and the drifter left.
Gill wondered what that was all about, but he didn't ask. He felt his face aflame.
One night after about six weeks, Abigail came in with her beau following, and said, "Mark wants to talk to you." She pushed Mark forward and went back out. It was as if she respected her father, and Gill took it as that.
"I want to ask Abigail to be my wife," Mark said.
She had become a new person these last weeks: friendlier, happier, wonderful. The last month had been the best of his relationship with her. It was too brief a period to decide to wed, but many marriages were arranged by letter or parental negotiations out in this barren, underpopulated land. He allowed himself to hope it would last, and he thanked the Lord in his mind. Mark was good for her.
