Out on the prairie a young man slouched over the neck of his horse as his blood oozed down onto the saddle. In the distance a train rattled. He wasn’t going to make it to the station much less Doc Brown’s house, and he needed to be stitched up bad.
In the dust up ahead, the train finally slid to a stop. One passenger stepped down off the iron step and onto the wooden platform. The only person in the low dry building squinted at her through the ticket seller bars and their eyes locked for a moment. He knew her, Doc Brown’s wife, but he didn’t say hello. He was never going to forgive the doc for helping his wife and infant son out of this world.
Up above and across the ridge a horse and buggy kicked up dust as it made its way through the sun baked land toward the station.
The woman on the platform put a hand to her eyes shielding the yellow just in time to see the blood-soaked horse trotting toward the station. The air swelled with urgency.
“Man coming this way Hud,” she said to her husband. “Looks to be hurt awful bad.”
The doc turned to see the horse trotting toward him, and it was all he could do to get the man into his wagon. Who knew whether he would survive the hour ride to Doc’s house? He had lost a lot of blood.
Three days later as he lay propped up in bed, he was able to speak a few words and Doc was certain he would survive. Doc’s wife had cleaned up his horse and brought in his belongings. Inside his saddle bag was an unposted letter. Doc assured him he was going to make it and when Doc Brown’s wife asked him if he wanted the letter mailed, he said yes.
The letter arrived four weeks later in Boston. It was a hot day. A woman was mending a small boy’s shirt while sitting on the front porch when the mail arrived.
“Daniel’s coming home!” Katherine shouted after opening the letter. She picked up the young boy just as her mother walked out the front door. “He’s coming home, Mama!”
Three days after Doc Brown’s wife posted the letter, the young man died. Doc always did overestimate his talents. No one had saved the address or knew where he had come from. They buried him in the cemetery back of the church.
Where the prairie met the sky.
Jan Darrow is a graduate of the University of Michigan and currently lives in Michigan with her husband and daughter. She grew up in the wild rural Midwest and connected with the natural world at an early age.