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"In sooth, to traverse these desolate Siberian wastes, where the very air doth freeze the marrow and the wolves do howl their ghastly serenade, is to court despair. Forsooth, if thou find thyself marooned in this accursed land, beseech thy Lord with fervent heart to grant thee swift passage to Heaven, for 'tis better to embrace the angelic throng than linger in such a forsaken realm."
—William Shakespeare, in a letter to Queen Elizabeth I, 1598.907Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhhWUwjLv18
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"My dearest granddaughter Angel,
It is with great pride and affection that I pen these words to you, on this day, the twenty-third of June, in the year of our Lord 1881. As you prepare to embark upon your voyage to the land of our forebears, I find my heart swelling with both hope and admiration for your courageous spirit.
Remember always the strength and wisdom of our ancestors, who traversed many trials and tribulations, guided by their unwavering faith and steadfast resolve. Though the path before you may be fraught with challenges, know that the Lord, blessed be His name, watches over you and will grant you the fortitude to prevail.
May your journey be one of discovery and enlightenment, and may you find solace in the knowledge that you carry with you the blessings of your heritage and the love of your family. Go forth with my fervent prayers and the hopes of all who cherish you.
Your loving grandfather,
Rabbi Yitzhak Stewart"
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I'd managed to limp up to the main deck of The Silver Star to stare off, squinting hard over her swaying wooden railing against the black horizon, hoping to see those first lights along the coastline of the far Siberian Gulf of Peter the Great. I was limping because a big yellow cow had stepped heavily on my foot where I was sleeping near the cattle down in the hold. And that's enough to make a rough, tough cowgirl like me wake up fast, and maybe even mutter a few choice words of resentment.
Still, in some agony, leaning over the rail and looking off, my eyes were starting to be tearful from the foot hurting and from the cold, howling wind tearing at my face. Hundreds of handfuls of stars were tossed and scattered at random all over the sky, and some of the big ones were hanging so far down on the horizon I could have sworn they were getting wet, way off over yonder, from the surging ocean spray.
"Over there!" a low, strong male voice said from behind me.
Preacher had silently come up, and now he hunched his broad shoulders on the railing beside me, shifted his tobacco, slowly chewing, and nodded so that his deeply creased black hat somehow pointed exactly where to look. I followed his steady gaze, frowning against the wind-made tears in my eyes, and finally made out that two of those low-lying stars were dim, distant man-made lights.
"Yee-haw!"
And then Preacher said two more words, tightly and hard.
"There's Russia."
The way he said it, I got a chilly feeling in my backbone that was more than the cold sea wind could account for. I looked at the lights again, and then back at him. "Well---hell, boss. After this time at sea, any solid land ought t' look pretty damn good."
Old Charlie came up then and joined us. "Look pretty good?" He pulled the collar of his sheepskin coat higher around his neck with his good hand and grinned, his teeth chattering briefly. "Me and five hundred cows and bulls have been seasick longer than any of us would care to remember. Anything without waves on it has to appear to be pure heaven right now.
Old Charlie, Charles Whitaker, if you like, was a skilled horseman and former cattle rancher from Texas. He grew up working on his family’s ranch, learning the ins and outs of cattle drives from a young age. Known for his quick wit and resourcefulness, Charlie was a dependable and loyal friend. His experience in navigating the rugged terrains of our beloved American West made him an invaluable member of my team.
"There sure is somethin' out there!" I told him. "Preacher just spotted it."
Old Charlie stared ahead, his smile-crinkled eyes nearly closed. "Yep. That'll be the growing metropolis of Vladivostok."
Preacher's voice still kept its tough edge. "All ten buildings of it---counting outhouses."
The lights were coming clearer and I said, "It looks t' me a little bit bigger than that."
Preacher glanced down at my boots. "That yellow cow hurt your foot much?"
"Naw." I flexed my ankle to make sure. "It's okay."
Old Charlie said, "We ought to be there in an hour or so, boss."
"Want me t' roust out the men?" I asked.
Preacher looked off once more toward the lights that were now getting a feeling of inky black land hovering around them. He pulled his hat down against a gust of bitter wind. "Give them a few more minutes' sleep first. Then get 'em up."
He went across the swaying deck and up the ladder toward the captain's cabin, walking surely, with a bobcat's instinctive movements and grace.
"That Preacher"---Old Charlie shook his head thoughtfully ---"never gets thrown off balance. Never clumsy, and never even gets seasick. I think that he believes this ship is nothing more than a big wooden horse, swaying and bucking and jumping all over the place. And he rides it just like one. Never misses a beat."
"Yeah," I said. "He don't never miss nothin'. I was the only one who could know about a cow stompin' on my foot in the dark down there. But he not only knew it happened, he even knew it was the old yella who done it! Seems t' me he's got eyes in the back a' that hard head of his, even when he's asleep."
"He's got a good eye." Old Charlie held his sheepskin collar close around his neck. "But I think you'll see this country better than he does, Angel."
I turned and looked and still couldn't see much more than the few lights that were just vaguely beginning to separate themselves and the shadowed earth from the stars and the sky. "You're plumb loco, Charlie."
Old Charlie leaned closer, seeming to gain warmth from my shoulder, or wanting maybe to give warmth to me. He said very seriously, "A gigantic new land is ahead of us."
I shivered in the cold and dark. "That's for damn sure."
"We're a long way from Dodge City, with a far way yet to go." Old Charlie hesitated. "For whatever reasons, Preacher's going in there hostile and therefore blind. And he'll never see Russia, or Siberia, anymore 'n we can see it now. A few dim lights fighting in the distance against the dark."
"Well now, if Preacher can see my foot accidentally stomped on in a pitch-black hold, with a bunch of beeves jumpin' all around, and even know the stomper was that old yellow cow, that keen-eyed bastard can see anything."
"Not necessarily," Old Charlie said. "There are many ways you can see things, aside from your eyes."
"I'd sure be interested t' know just how."
He touched me on the shoulder, swaying a little with the boat. "You know how else, Angel. God gave the cowpoke the power to see with his mind, his spirt, his heart."
I grinned at him a little. "Charlie, I swear, you’re starting to sound like some old Paiute shaman with all your talk of spirits and hearts. Keep your philosophy o' life to yourself, will ya?"
"A Paiute shaman?" He stretched his bad hand just high enough to rub his lowered chin with the back of it. Then he looked back at the approaching lights of Vladivostok. "I'll prophesy you something, Angel." His gray eyes were level with the horizon and deadly serious. "We do have a long way to go." He hesitated. "And if we don't learn to see with lots more than our eyes, none of us will come out of that big country right-side up or alive."907Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUpeXxUj76H
