Woman on the Prairie
Montana Territory, 1880
ULYSSES HAD BEEN riding for long enough, or at least it felt that way. It was June 15, and the day was longer than Ulysses preferred. It was something about the approaching summer solstice that always played tricks with his mind. There was only so much sunlight that a man could handle within a single day, especially when riding on horseback for days on end.
The prairie had been long and flat and brown, and at times, Ulysses had sensed that he had stumbled off the edge of the earth and had fallen into some alternate universe. Night was approaching fast, like an uninvited dinner guest. A cool breeze swept down from the north, nearly blowing Ulysses’s brown leather hat from his head, which was covered with a thick mop of dusty brown hair.
A nearby pond provided water for Ulysses and his trusty horse, Mordechai. The two of them stood by the pond, as Mordechai dunked his muzzle into the cool water and drank mightily. Ulysses dropped to his knees before using the palm of his left hand as a primitive tool to transport water to his mouth.
It would be time to start a fire and make supper soon. But first, a short rest was in order. Ulysses let Mordechai wander freely for a bit. He then kicked off his boots and lied down under the merciful shade of a cluster of trees adjacent to the pond. A rolled-up jacket made a mighty fine pillow, as Ulysses rested peacefully on his back, with his hands gently folded upon his chest.
About 100 yards away, a lone house sat on the prairie. The house was small and simple, and it looked as if a strong wind could collapse it to the ground at any moment. Clotheslines hung in front of the house, by the door.
Ulysses watched as a woman exited the front door and walked over to a long line of clothes and sheets hanging from the clotheslines. The breeze was picking up and the sky was growing dark. The woman was tall and lean, and she wore a light brown dress that covered her flesh from her soft neck down to her wrists, then down to her ankles.
The woman was alone, and she seemed to prefer it that way. One by one, the woman removed the clothes and sheets from the clothesline, before gently folding each item and placing it inside the wicker laundry basket. The woman was taking her time, devoting more than the required amount of attention to each piece of linen. She had gentle hands that hung from thin arms. The woman’s hair was yellow, and it was braided tightly, extending down to the middle of her back.
The wind was blowing in Ulysses’s direction, and he swore that he could hear the gentle humming of a nursery rhyme. The woman appeared to be tapping her foot just a little bit, as she worked and swayed to the rhythm of her own symphony.
When the last piece of linen was removed from the clothesline, folded, then placed into the wicker basket, the woman stood upright. She looked in the direction of Ulysses, while placing her hands on her hips, with her fingers pointing toward her back. She gently leaned backward, then forward, then to the left and right, stretching her tired and overworked back.
The woman kept staring in the direction of Ulysses, and he finally realized that the sun was setting behind him. Even from 100 yards away, Ulysses could see the kindness in the face of the woman. The woman continued to stare at the setting sun, now with her fingers laced on top of her head, stretching her chest and torso and arms. She held that pose for quite a while, until she finally exhaled, allowing her arms to fall limply at her sides.
It was almost dark now, and a bright canopy of twinkling white stars were starting to make their appearance. The woman stepped into her house and closed the door. Ulysses saw a small flame through the window, which he figured was the striking of a match and the lighting of a lantern. Ulysses squinted his eyes, watching the woman through her window. The gentle glow of the lantern allowed her face to shine in the warm night air. She was reading a book, it seemed, with her right hand holding open the pages, and her left hand cradling her chin as her mind left the Montana prairie and became a citizen of some other realm.
Ulysses adjusted his head on the rolled-up jacket beneath him and closed his eyes. He thought about the woman and about the prairie and about the warm summer evening. He thought about all the stars up in the sky, too, and wondered whether he and the woman might ever cross paths.
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