Free What Once We Loved by Jane Kirkpatrick Page B

of folks, bewildered and weary.”
    “Were from Missouri,” a woman told her, saying it with that soft “ah” sound at the end. “Most of us. A few from Ohio. Some from Kentucky.”
    Elizabeth noticed the faint smell of licorice on the woman's breath and wondered if she imbibed in Sweet Cicely wine or had used the plant for a snake or spider bite. “You bring healing herbs with you?” she decided to ask. “My daughter Mazys growing such a garden, and any starts you got to share I know she'd appreciate. She'll share too, I'll ponder.”
    “Traded some Cicely with Indians a ways back,” the woman told her. “They ate the seeds and said they'd use the roots to catch wild horses with.”
    “That a fact. Wonder how that works?”
    The woman shrugged. “Me, I chew the leaves. Keeps my stomach from churning up. It's been doing that plenty.”
    “Does it? I like my spearmint for that,” Elizabeth said.
    “Maybe we can make an exchange,” the woman offered.
    “Love to. Be a big help.” Elizabeth noticed the woman's eyes lit up a bit. There was something refreshing about giving to another, however small the gift.
    “Speaking of churning,” her eyes sought Mazy as she called out, “do you have some more cream, skimmed and cooled, Daughter? I'd be up to whipping up another batch. You folks think the taste of fresh cream after so many months without would take the grit from your teeth?” The murmur of agreement was all she needed. “I'll get right on it,”Elizabeth said. As she walked she noticed that her step had a spring to it, and she was no longer tired.

    Ruths head still spun with the rapid changes. She couldn't escape change, had to embrace it, grab it like the Giant Stride ring swinging her around a pole in the schoolyard, taking her ever wider and farther until her feet were nearly straight out with only the air and the grip of her hands keeping her lifted. The more children who grabbed adjoining rings, the faster they all went, wind pushing their laughter down their throats as smiles froze on their faces. She and her friends played at the Giant Stride so often their running feet had dug a pit into the ground around the pole. She had loved it. Once she decided to jump on.
    Then there was the problem of getting off. Two choices. Each child could will themselves into the center, pull in tight as they held on and wait until the others slowed around. Many was the time she'd been hit by a ring let loose by another while she stood with one hand over her head at the center, her heart pounding, waiting.
    Or the better second choice was to swing as far and fast as she could for as long as she could and then…to simply let go, to give herself fully to the wind's embrace. She'd fly through the air then, skirts and crinolines billowing out, barely softening the drop as she landed in a heap on the grass, far beyond the chaos of the Giant Stride pole. Relief and loss always greeted her there, watching the others still spinning. Once she'd broken her arm, and her father had chastised her for choosing a boy's game, one demanding both skill and strength. And risk, she told herself. It took some risk to go on the Giant Stride. But the pain was worth it.
    She hadn't thought of the Giant Stride in years. Funny name for it, though today she felt as though she took a giant stride toward something new, something risky.
    They'd ridden to a hacienda, she and Matthew, who had initiallybeen dead set against taking two jacks north—until his mother stepped into it. Then he was all in favor of it. They hadn't even asked Ruth if their presence in her plan appealed to her or not. The next thing she knew, everyone made decisions around her. Mazy bought up the Schmidtke cows—all but one—borrowing money from Seth Forrester to do it. Lura let the Wilsons know she was heading north and wouldn't be working at their store next week. Everything was settled almost before Elizabeth served the second batch of whipped cream to the new