Holidays with the Weavers

by Kit Morgan

  Calvin nodded. “Good idea. Then maybe she won’t throw things when she wakes up.”

  Bella smacked him on the arm. “It’s not funny.”

  He put an arm around her. “Yer right, it ain’t. But Arlan’s right too – she’s a horrible woman.”

  Charity looked at each of them, sighed and headed for the door again. “I’ll see what I can do to soften her up for you.”

  Benjamin watched his wife head out, then shook his head. “That’s a lotta softenin’.”

  “Yeah,” Calvin agreed. “How do ya take a rock and turn it into a rose?”

  “Stranger things have happened, son,” Ma commented. “Best we start praying for that poor woman and see what the good Lord does.”

  Four

  Olivia awoke to the sound of humming. When she opened her eyes she saw a woman sitting at her bedside, knitting. She cleared her throat. “Hello?”

  “Oh, you’re awake. Ma was pretty worried about you.”

  Olivia studied her. The woman was pretty, younger than her, and had kind eyes. “Where am I?”

  “Gunderson’s stage stop. My family and I found you and your wagon in a ditch. We pulled you out, wrapped you in a blanket and brought you here. Were you robbed?”

  Olivia touched her pounding head. “I must have been. It figures.”

  “What do you mean?” The woman set aside her knitting. “Would you like some water?”

  “Yes, please.” Olivia struggled to sit up as the woman poured her a glass, then took it from her. “I haven’t had very good luck of late.” She took a sip of water. If only she could remember what she wasn’t having much luck with. “Well, obviously I’m not having good luck if I was robbed.”

  “I should say not,” the woman said. “I’m Charity. And you are?”

  Olivia stared at her a moment. What was her name? Why couldn’t she remember? Panic gripped her a moment before she recalled it. “Olivia!” She sighed in relief. “Yes, Olivia … um, Bridger. That’s me.”

  Charity cocked her head to one side and stared at her intently. “Are you having trouble remembering things?”

  As much as Olivia hated to admit it, she was. “I do remember men coming at the wagon with guns and pointing them at me. Nothing after that.” Maybe it was a good thing. Did she want to remember?

  “You poor woman.” Charity sat on the bed. “I’ll go fetch Ma and have her come take a look at you. She’s good at doctoring.”

  “Would she have something for my head?” Olivia asked. “It hurts awfully.”

  “And no wonder – when we found you, your head was bleeding. Someone must have struck you.”

  Olivia gasped. “I was bleeding?”

  Charity nodded and stood. “I’ll go fetch Ma – she’ll fix you up. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, but my head hurts so much I’m not sure I can eat”

  “Perhaps some broth?”

  Olivia smiled weakly. “Thank you – that would be lovely.”

  Charity left, and Olivia took a moment to study the room. It was plain with few furnishings. She heard noises outside – had a stage just pulled in? She sipped more water, set the glass on the bedside table and tried to remember what happened, but only found a blank in her mind. Had she been traveling alone? If so, why? Where was she going? It felt like she knew, but she couldn’t recall a thing. How strange.

  The door opened and a different woman entered. Olivia could only stare – she was absolutely stunning! “Charity told us you were awake. I made you some soup.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. The woman had a heavy accent – Italian? Spanish? “Thank you.”

  The beauty brought the tray to the bedside table and set it down. “Are you up to feeding yourself?”

  Olivia nodded. “Who are you?”

  “I am … how do you say? … Charity’s sister in law.”

  “Oh, so you found me too?”

  “Yes, that’s it. I am Isabella. Everyone calls me Bella.”

  “Bella,” Olivia repeated. “Pretty name.”

  “And you are Olivia,” Bella gave her a warm smile. “Also a pretty name.”

  Olivia blushed. To think a stunner like this thought she was beautiful – especially in her current condition and dirty clothes. Though she must have looked worse earlier. Hadn’t someone cleaned her up a bit, or had she dreamed it?

  Bella picked up the bowl of soup and offered it to her. “Here. I was not sure if you were up to having bread with it. I can get some if you like.”

  “No, thank you, the soup is fine. My stomach isn’t feeling very good. Better to be safe.”

  “That is wise,” Bella stood. “Would you like anything else?”

  “No, this is enough. You’ve been very kind.”

  Bella smiled and waved the compliment away. “It is nothing. We are happy to do it.”

  Olivia took a spoonful of soup. She still felt like she’d been run over by a cattle stampede, but her taste buds worked fine, and the soup was delicious. “I’m glad you and your family found me. This is very good, by the way.”

  “I am glad you like it.” She turned toward the door. “I will let the others know you are eating. They will want to speak with you.”

  “The … others?” Olivia mumbled worriedly.

  “Yes, my in-laws. My father-in-law, he was a sheriff. He knows about these things, and he has questions.”

  “Of course. I’ll try to remember what happened, but I’m not doing very well at it right now.”

  “You are tired, injured. You should eat first and rest. They will come up later.” Bella smiled and left the room.

  Olivia finished her soup, set the bowl aside and lay back down. She was amazed how much better the food made her feel.

  A few moments later there was a knock on the door, and Mary and an older man came into the room. “How are you feeling, child?” Mary asked stiffly.

  Olivia stared at her. “Do I know you?” And are you angry with me for something?

  Mary hesitated before answering. “I was in here wiping mud off your face earlier. But you weren’t in very good shape then.” She approached the bed.

  Olivia slowly nodded. Her mind still felt clouded, as if someone dumped a wagonful of sand into it. “I’d imagine so. But I remember that you’re Mary.”

  “Yes, I am – Mary Hughes, though most folks call me Ma. This is my husband Harlan.”

  Olivia nodded. Like his wife, he looked to be around sixty, but he seemed more relaxed.

  He sat in the chair next to the bed. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

  “Only what I told …” She waved her hand around, trying to remember the woman’s name. “… Charity, that’s it. I remember men attacking the wagon, pointing guns at me … but nothing after that.”

  Mr. Hughes’ eyebrows shot up. “That must be some bump on the head you got. We brought you here, but Mrs. Gunderson says she doesn’t have room for you. So my wife and I decided that you’ll come home with us and recuperate.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want to impose,” Olivia protested.

  “Well, unless you feel up to riding the stage to Nowhere and getting a room at the hotel,” Mary said, “coming home with us is your best option.” She didn’t sound entirely happy about it.

  Olivia’s brow furrowed. “Nowhere?” It sounded familiar, but really, who calls a town “nowhere”?

  The older couple studied her intently for a moment, leaning toward her. “If you don’t mind my saying,” Mr. Hughes told Mary, “I don’t think this woman’s in any shape to be by herself.”

  “I know,” Mrs. Hughes sighed. “We’ll take you home with us, heal you up, then you can meet your kin or whoever you were traveling to see.”

  Traveling … where had she been heading, and why? Olivia couldn’t remember. Oh, but this was bad. At least she knew her name. But where was she from? And why did Mary Hughes look at her like she was accused of a crime or something?

  “What’s wrong?” Mr. Hughes asked.

 
Olivia covered her mouth as the reality of her situation struck. She could only recall bits and pieces. What was she going to do? Had she been on her way to meet someone? If so, who? Where? Why? How could she even find out in this group of strangers – or were they strangers? “What’s wrong?” she cried in anguish. “I don’t remember!” And she buried her face in her hands and wept.

  * * *

  Arlan, Benjamin and Calvin gaped at Olivia from the open door. They’d come up to check out of curiosity. Would she recognize their mother now? What about them? But obviously she didn’t. She certainly didn’t seem to recall all the dirt she’d done them in the past.

  “She don’t know,” Arlan whispered as he stared into the room. Olivia Bridger, the bane of his existence once upon a time, sat and sobbed into her hands as his mother and Harlan tried to console her.

  “Makes me feel kinda sorry for her,” Calvin commented.

  “Kinda,” Benjamin emphasized. “Makes me wonder what happened to make her forget us.”

  “A knock on the head’ll do that,” Arlan said quietly. “The question is, what’ll she be like when she does remember us?”

  “Won’t be pretty, that’s for sure,” Calvin said. “Best we be ready for it when it happens. I remember how nasty she was.”

  “We all do,” Arlan said. “Me most of all. And poor Samijo.”

  Benjamin smiled. “Your wife handled it well, I recall.”

  Arlan smiled too. “Yes, she did.” He looked at Olivia again. “Look at her. Hard to believe that’s the same witch that almost saw us all killed.”

  “Still kinda turns my stomach to think about it,” Calvin muttered.

  “Maybe it’s a mercy she cain’t remember,” Benjamin said. “Maybe she’ll learn some kindness while she’s like this. Then when she does remember, she won’t be as bad.”

  Calvin shrugged. “We can hope.”

  Ma turned to them and pointed at the wash basin. “One of you stop gossiping, run downstairs to the kitchen and bring me up a fresh pan of water, will you?”

  “Sure, Ma,” Arlan said. He quietly walked into the room, took the basin and hurried downstairs. His brothers stayed behind and continued to stare at the woman who’d almost ruined their lives years ago. Olivia didn’t seem to notice any of them through her tears.

  “How is she?” Samijo asked Arlan as he entered the Gundersons’ kitchen.

  “Hard to say. Ma wants some fresh water in this.”

  “All right.” She took the pan from him and went to the pump at the sink.

  “She’s, uh … cryin’.”

  Samijo finished pumping and gave him the full pan. “Poor dear.”

  Arlan nodded. “If ya say so. I’m sure she’ll recall everythin’ in time.”

  “Then poor us. Well, when she does I hope she’ll appreciate what we’ve done for her.”

  Arlan nodded again. They were taking someone seemingly docile and helpless home with them. But that someone had turned into a venomous snake in the past. It was a risk.

  “Do you think she’s changed?” Samijo asked. “I mean, even before the bump on the head?”

  Arlan shrugged. “I dunno. People do change, but not always – and not always the way ya want ‘em to. For all we know, she got worse.”

  Samijo sighed. “We still can’t leave her behind. We need to do the right thing, for conscience’s sake, even if she doesn’t.”

  “True.” He turned and left the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Arlan,” Ma said when he entered the bedroom. “Set it on the table here.”

  He did, and watched his mother dip a cloth into it, wring it out and wipe away Olivia’s tears. Olivia didn’t look like she’d changed much – she was pretty as she always was. Her red hair was just as vibrant as he remembered, her eyes still a lovely emerald green. It was her black heart that was the ugly part. So what was her disposition like now – still catty, ruthless, cunning and selfish? She’d been the kind of girl that when she saw something she wanted, she didn’t care who she hurt to get it. At one time that something had been him. “Ma?”

  “Yes, son?”

  “When’ll she be fit to travel?”

  Olivia looked at him. “Your mother told me her plan. I … I don’t know what to say. You’re all so very kind.”

  Arlan swallowed hard. He’d never heard a nice word come from this woman before. But then, she didn’t seem to recognize him. Had that thump on the head knocked all the meanness out of her too? “Will ya be able to travel tomorrow, do ya think? We need to get home.”

  “I can certainly try. My head aches, but I can live with it.”

  “Why don’t we see how you’re feeling in the morning?” Ma said. “If we have to, some of us can leave tomorrow and the rest the day after.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Harlan commented. “What do you think, Arlan?”

  He stared at Olivia, vaguely aware that Benjamin and Calvin were now elsewhere. “Uh, fine.”

  Olivia stared back. “Thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart. I … can’t tell you how much …” She sniffed back tears. “I can’t seem to remember much. Thank you for taking care of me … oh!” She started crying again.

  Ma looked at her and nodded. “Don’t fret, child. You can stay with us as long as you need. We’ll get things figured out and get you to your family.”

  Olivia swallowed hard between sobs. “But … what if I … don’t remember them?”

  Harlan sighed. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

  “If she can travel tomorrow, we should all go,” Arlan suggested. “I think it’d be too much for Mrs. Gunderson to have even half of us still here, with all the space we take up.”

  “He has a point, Mary,” Harlan said.

  “I suppose.” Ma sighed, then forced a smile for Olivia. “So we’ll take you home with us tomorrow if you can go. In the meantime, get some rest, all right?”

  Olivia smiled. “Yes, I will. I promise.”

  “Good.” Harlan patted her hand. “We’re glad to have you with us.”

  Olivia smiled again as fresh tears streamed down her face. Arlan stared in fascination. Just how hard did she get hit on the head? And how long would it last?

  Five

  The next day the Weaver family was still wary. Olivia Bridger really didn’t know who they were – and barely knew who she was. There was no sign of her cantankerous, selfish nature. But that didn’t stop them from worrying. Would she turn on them in a blink of an eye, start screaming and yelling and throwing things? That was the Olivia they remembered – the one they’d rather forget. This Olivia was much different, but would she stay that way?

  “Benjamin,” Ma called, “help Olivia into the wagon.”

  “Sure, Ma,” Benjamin said evenly. He looked at Olivia, who was wearing an old dress of Mrs. Gunderson’s – the dress she’d been wearing when they found her had been ruined by the mud. Olivia hadn’t, thankfully – other than her head injury, she bore no major bruises and nothing was broken, according to Harlan and Ma.

  The previous night Calvin had pulled Benjamin and Arlan aside and asked if they thought the woman was faking her memory loss. After all, some women could whip up tears at the drop of a hat. But Harlan was the expert, and reminded them they’d found all the signs of a robbery. Whoever stole her things and her horse were not nice individuals – they’d struck her in the head and left her in a ditch to die. After that, the brothers did their best to treat their guest with kindness. But suspicions remained.

  “I guess this shows we ain’t totally forgiven her for what she did to us all those years ago,” Calvin commented to Benjamin as they climbed onto the wagon seat. Olivia was in Arlan’s wagon, far enough out of earshot that they could speak freely.

  Benjamin unwrapped the lines from the brake and got the horses moving. The wagon lurched forward and everyone behind them settled in. “I hate to say it, but I think yer right,” he told Calvin. “Of course, there’s forgivin’ and there’s forgettin’. Even
if we’ve honestly forgiven the woman, it don’t mean we forgot what she did.”

  Calvin nodded, wondering if Ma and the others were thinking along the same lines. But it was obvious Olivia wasn’t well – none of them could argue with that. Past conflicts or not, she needed help. Thank Heaven Ma was good at doctoring and would take care of her. They watched her from their vantage point behind Arlan’s wagon. She chatted amiably with Bella’s siblings now and then, but for the most part kept quiet on the journey home.

  By the time they arrived at the farm it started to snow. “Let’s get the wagons unloaded and the horses taken care of,” Arlan called out. “Alfonso, you and Arturo help unload.”

  Alfonso and his younger brother jumped out of the wagon bed and began hauling out supplies, handing the smaller bundles to their younger siblings to carry into the main house. Benjamin, Calvin and Harlan helped carry the larger ones, all while watching Olivia with interest. Would she recognize the house? The barn? Anything?

  “Welcome to our home, Olivia,” Ma said. “Let’s get you inside and settled. The sooner you crawl into bed, the better you’ll feel, I’m sure.”

  Olivia stared at the farmhouse a moment, but with no recognition in her eyes the men could see. Samijo too watched her carefully, even as she took a sack of sugar from Alfonso and followed Ma and Olivia inside.

  Olivia stopped in the front hall and looked around. “What is it, child?” Ma asked, brow creased.

  Olivia frowned. “Nothing. My head still hurts.”

  “Understandable, considering what you’ve been through,” Ma motioned to the stairs. “Now let’s get you into bed.”

  Olivia followed Ma upstairs and disappeared down the hall. Samijo, Charity and Bella, each with a load of supplies and presents, stared after them. “She doesn’t remember,” Samijo said in wonder. “I’ve heard of things like this, but I’ve never seen it.”

  “She does not remember anything?” Bella asked.

  “Apparently not, besides her name,” Charity replied. “Was she really that bad?”