Pressing on with Hope

Colt, Texas—July 1929—

A first anniversary should be a monumental celebration, but for the Prichards it was a solemn affair. Winn’s night of drinking and losing all their savings at Wildcat’s Saloon loomed over them like an ominous West Texas sandstorm. Winn was trapped in a place he had come to hate; the love of his life carrying their baby was leaving. The aspiration of publishing a newspaper seemed to be an impossible goal; his paper dream was as elusive as a night vision disappearing with the dawn.

“Sugar, this is going to be a long day and night. I hope it’s not too hard on you, especially since you have to wait so long in Fort Worth for the train to Hempstead.”

“I’ll be fine. You just be sure to keep your nose clean without me. No crazy ideas about gambling or bootleg whiskey, you hear?” Hope’s voice was teasing, but her message was not.

“I promise. It’s only work and home for the next month or so. As soon as you can get to a phone tomorrow, call the printing plant and leave a message to let me know you made it to your folks okay.”

Hope saw the bus making its way toward them through the crowded street. “I want to see Miss Adkins at the newspaper office. I’ll probably use the phone there.”

Others also waiting for the bus gathered close by. With a protective arm around Hope, Winn held her place for boarding. “I guess you’ll have some catching up to do with everyone.” His face turned downcast. “I ah . . . I hope you won’t put me in a bad light with your folks, Sugar.” He knew Hope was not one to share her troubles, but guilt cast an ugly picture in his mind. Their conversation was too personal for strangers to overhear. She pulled his head down and spoke in a whisper. “We’re one, remember? What transpires between us is only for you and me to know.” The forgiving and loving words from her compassionate heart were a soothing balm in his core.

Winn had found his soul mate in Hope. He didn't want to lose her with the truth of his wayward past and weakness for alcohol. The facade he painted for seventeen-year-old Hope before they married began to crumble when she figured out that he was thirty-five instead of twenty-eight as he told her papa. She would have married him regardless of the age difference. That lie was just the first disappointment. Other discrepancies of his past emerged to be dealt with one by one. The past year held both ecstasy and heartache—more than Hope thought possible. Her love for Winn was beyond understanding, it was almost supernatural. Deep within, she knew the Lord put them together for a purpose; and she must trust and hang on for the completion of God’s plan. She forgave Winn for each lie, but his sneaking out in the middle of the night to lay their savings down on a poker table was a huge pill to swallow. After that loss, Winn thought it best for Hope to go to her parents’ home in Hempstead until he found a job away from the boomtown madness of Colt. They had pinched enough money for Hope’s sojourn, and the dread of their parting hovered over them both. Her bus ticket to Odessa was purchased, and from there she would travel the rest of the way by rail. Compared to her heart, the suitcase by her feet was light.

Winn kept his arm around her until the bus driver announced it was time to board. Guiding her up the steps, he found a place close to the front and stowed her suitcase on the upper rack. The latches on the old valise didn’t click shut completely; Winn had secured it with a belt.

Clutching her purse, small pillow, wrap, and her crocheting in a paper sack, she settled in the seat. “Don’t worry, Winn, the Lord is with me.” Anxiety was sculptured in his face. She laughed. “For goodness sake, you’re not putting me on the Titanic. I’ll still in be in Texas.”

Accustomed to witnessing long good-byes, the bus driver tempered his impatience to get under way. He was a kindly gentleman who could understand a husband’s concerns about his young, pregnant wife setting out alone. He said, “Don’t you give a care now. The bus stop at the Odessa train station is the last one for me today, so I can help the missus and tote her suitcase to the train.”

Hope smiled. “See, the good Lord is already taking care of me.”

Winn shook the driver’s hand. “Much obliged, sir. She’s precious cargo.”

“Yes sir, I can see that.” Winn handed him a dollar bill. The busman’s eyes lit up and he thanked him. With a lingering look at Hope, Winn stepped off the bus. The driver swung his torso out the door and hollered, “All aboard to Odessa.” Standing below Hope’s window, Winn clasped her hand until the bus edged into the throng of vehicles and pedestrians. They both remembered when she held his hand as they bid good-bye at Butch’s station in Hempstead in their happy courting days. He was a forlorn picture standing in the dirt street in front of that hovel of a depot. He would be without his anchor, his navigator. Their eyes were locked until the bus turned a block away.

Winn’s loneliness set in immediately as he watched the bus disappear around a corner. His splayed fingers took a swipe through his thick brown hair. A loner for years, he had become accustomed to a single lifestyle before finding Hope. But now, his world was on a Greyhound riding to her mama’s, and he wouldn't be there when their first child would be born.