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Triston Murphy hid behind the cargo on the Duluth Winnipeg and Pacific railway early one morning in the year 1932. His life was that of a wanderer. From birth, his family moved from place to place. Wherever the work was, that’s were the Murphy’s were. It was a hard life. When he was about ten, his mother left his father and him for another man. She’d had enough of the moving and was never heard from again. Triston didn’t think much of it. She was always complaining anyways. Triston’s dad was killed when he was twenty in a drunken fight over the town whore. Triston was devastated but he did as taught and moved on. He was taken in by a small family while he got himself together. There was a older farmer, in his fifties, called Pappy and he had a younger daughter about fifteen named Laura. She was a beautiful girl with long curly brown hair and piercing blue eyes. The evening that Triston stayed with them was a night he remembered everyday. Her soft voice whispered to him in the night and her soft smile comforted him. She held Triston’s head against her chest while she listened to his sorrow. She was everything Triston ever wanted in a woman. The next morning, Triston talked to Pappy about Laura. Pappy said that no daughter of his would marry a tramp like Triston and he sent Triston on his way. Now two decades later, he was an empty man. With no wife or family, he traveled and worked when he could. He stood about six foot two with a strong build. He had callused hands from years of hard labor and skin that was leathered from the ruthless rays of the sun.
He arrived east of Duluth in a small mining town called Gravel Hills. Hungry and tired, he looked for a place to sleep. It was about one in the morning, and the town was almost ghostly. The moon shone down giving everything the light touched a soft, white glow. Small wooden shacks creaked and swayed in the gentle April breeze. The dirt path in front of him was scattered with patches of green grass. As he walked, stones and gravel made grinding noises from beneath his boots. In the distance, a gentle yellow glow could be seen from a window in one of the shacks. He walked towards the window hoping to find a place to stay.
As he got closer to the shack, he could see the window was open with bars on the outside of it. In the window, he could see a woman sitting in a chair sewing. She was young and beautiful. Her long, curly brown hair draped across the back of the chair she sat in. Never had he seen such a beautiful woman. As he walked closer, he could see tears running down her red-flushed cheeks.
In the moonlight, he saw a sign placed on the door of the shack that read: Quarantined Due To Tuberculosis. He had heard of tuberculosis but didn’t know anyone who had had it or anything about it.
As he got closer to the window where she sat, she turned to see who was coming.
"Papa, is that you?" she wheezed.
"Umm...I’m sorry to have disturbed you ma’am. I was just looking for a place to sleep. I saw your light and wondered who would be up at this hour," he said shyly.
In front of her window stood Triston. His sad brown eyes gazing longingly at her from under his gray, wide-brimmed hat. As he removed it, she saw his short brown, wavy hair streaked with gray and his face rough with facial hair. He wore a long-sleeved, gray buttoned-up shirt that hung loosely on his wide shoulders and a pair of brown pants that were held up with a belt. His black leather boots were covered in a layer of dust.
"You shouldn’t be here. I’m ill," she warned. " I have tuberculosis. You need to stay away," she said sternly.
He looked into her glazed blue eyes. There was something familiar about her. "I saw the sign. I just wanted to talk. I’m willing to take the risk. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Please," he urged.
"Ok. It’s your life. I would like the company to be honest," she smiled.
"My name is Triston," he said.
"Triston. That name sound so familiar to me. I am Laura," she said blushing.
"Did you say Laura? Is your father named Pappy," he asked with intense curiosity.
"You are the one that stayed with us after you father was...umm...you did stay with us didn’t you," she said softly.
"Yes I did and you are as beautiful now as you were then."
"Thank you," she blushed.
They talked through the early morning hours. She spoke of Pappy and her life in Gravel hills. Triston told her about his empty life as a wanderer. At the break of dawn, the sun tinted the sky yellow and crimson. The gentle sunrays painted the hills and trees in golden streaks of light.
"Laura, I want to be with you. I know you’re sick but I’ll take care of you," he pleaded.
"What are you talking about? I’m going to die," she said.
"No, it doesn’t have to be that way. Let me take care of you," he urged.
"Triston, I’m sorry but this is how it has to be. The doctor says this is the only way. I’m ill, and if you try to care for me, you will get ill, too. Saving me now will only bring you death," she said softly.
"Laura, I don’t have anything. I’m willing to take the risk. If it means death, then I welcome death," he said. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Triston, you don’t understand. I’m going to die now," she whispered.
Before long the Sheriff arrived at the shack. Triston turned to look at the man as he unlocked the door. He grabbed Laura’s arm and led her to a tall tree with one long horizontal branch. Near the front of the tree, a priest held a long rope tied in a noose. Horror rushed over Triston.
"No! No! Laura don’t do this," he begged. He rushed to her and grabbed her arm. The man turned to Triston and pushed him to the ground. Triston got on his knees and watched Laura approaching the tree.
"Now remember Laura. This is the only way. Think of the town. You have to do what’s right for everyone," the Sheriff said dryly.
Tears streamed down her ashen face. In her hand, she held a black bag that she had sewn to be placed over her head. She stepped onto a large crate smiling nervously at Triston. The rope was tied to the tree and thrown over the branch. Laura grabbed the noose, placing it around her neck. She tightened it herself and placed the bag over her head. Then without a pause, she kicked the crate from under her feet and hanged herself.
Triston sat back on his legs. Tears streamed from his eyes as he held his head in his hands. His heart filled with inconsolable grief. He ran to Laura’s body and removed the noose from her head. He laid her down next to the tree that she hanged herself from. In her ear, he whispered, "Dearest Laura, the pain of losing you is more than I can bear. Please forgive me for what I must do now. Life isn’t worth living if it’s not with you. Since you are gone, my obligation to life is now over. I will love you for all eternity and pray that I am with you soon." He gently kissed her forehead, and as he did, a single tear ran down his cheek. He grabbed the crate, stood on it and placed the rope around his neck, tightening it. His heart and mind were racing as he contemplated what he was about to do. He nodded in agreement with his thoughts and kicked the crate from under his feet.
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