by S. C. Wilson
Jesse smiled down at her daughter. “Don’t you like to read anymore?”
“No. Not really. But, Ma makes me when she has me doing my schoolwork. I’d rather be outside.”
Jesse’s smile widened. Gwen’s words took her back to the mountain—to a time when she stared longingly out the cabin window. She remembered how much she had hated being made to sit there and read. As a child, she never could understand why it was so important for her to learn math and all the other subjects Frieda forced upon her. Thankfully, her old mentor had been a patient woman.
Naturally, as an adult, Jesse knew the importance of an education. “I used to feel the same when I was your age. But trust me, even though you don’t believe it, the things your ma teaches you will come in awful handy one day.” Jesse stood up and reached out her hand. “C’mon, let’s get going.”
In an effort to give Abby one day a week to sleep in and relax, Jesse had started a Saturday morning ritual with the twins. For the past few years, they had been getting up early and going into town to get pastries.
As Jesse, Jim, and Gwen went to board the buggy, Jim asked, “Pippa. Can I drive?”
Jesse tapped her finger on her lips. “Hmm.” She looked to Gwen. “What do you think? You trust your brother?”
Gwen scowled. “Heck no! He’ll crash us for sure.”
Jesse laughed out loud. “Oh now. I think you’re being a little dramatic, don’t you? You do know if he’s old enough to drive, then so are you.”
Gwen squared her shoulders. “You mean I can drive the buggy into town?”
“Well, now that wouldn’t be fair would it, since he asked first. Jim, how about you drive to town and Gwen can drive us home. Sound fair?”
“Fair,” the twins said in unison.
Jesse’s heart was bubbling over as her son kept a tight grip on the reins, steering the buggy into Neva. She thought back to the conversation she’d had with Gwen earlier about how Jim didn’t like to hunt. She knew he preferred to be inside, usually in the den with his nose in a book. He was a quiet child. In many ways, she found it difficult to relate to him. On the other hand, Gwen was a miniature version of herself. The similarities were uncanny.
It wasn’t just small things that set the twins apart. They were as different as corn and peas. Abby had also noticed their differences and couldn’t help but think something got switched in the womb. While it caused Abby some concern, Jesse respected their individual personalities. Never would she force them to be something or act a certain way because society considered it proper. As long as she drew breath, they were free to live a life of their choosing.
Jim steered the buggy down Main Street. He guided the horses into an opening in front of the bakery and brought them to a halt.
“Set the brake,” Jesse said.
“I know. I know what to do,” he said in a confident tone.
Gwen was halfway to the door by the time her brother jumped down. He raced to catch up to her. Although they were eager to get inside, they were well behaved enough to wait on Jesse before entering the store.
The three of them were greeted kindly by the middle-aged woman standing behind the long-glass counter. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite twins in town.”
Jim and Gwen had been hearing the same greeting since the first time Jesse had brought them to the bakery. They weren’t actually her favorite twins. They were the only twins in town.
“Good morning, Miss. Dottie,” Jesse said.
“Morning.” She began putting their usual order together—two-dozen plain doughnuts.
The twins stood at the counter, their foreheads pressed against the glass. For two kids who had talked nonstop on the ride to town, they were now unusually quiet. Jesse placed a hand on each of their heads.
“Pippa, I want that one,” Jim said, pointing at one of the chocolate-covered doughnuts nearest him. “Please!”
“Me too,” Gwen pleaded, her head bobbing in agreement.
“Miss. Dottie, can you add in two of the chocolate ones?” Jesse asked, rubbing her hands through their hair.
“Will do,” Dottie said, smiling. “I’ll add a couple more for you and the Mrs.”
The twins’ mouths watered as they watched her wrap the doughnuts in wax paper and place them in a brown paper sack.
Jesse placed her money on the countertop.
“Thank you. See you tomorrow at church,” Dottie said, handing her the paper sack. “Oh, I just love hearing your wife sing. She’s got the voice of an angel.”
Jesse nodded. “Yes, she does.” She held up the sack. “Thank you and we’ll see you tomorrow.”
For the past three years, Dottie had seen the McGinnis clan at church every Sunday. What she didn’t know was the real reason behind their attendance. When Jim had been battling Scarlet fever, Jesse had made a promise to God. In return for sparing her son, she had promised Him she would do anything. Part of that bargain had included attending church. He had kept His end of the deal. Since then, she had seen to it she kept hers as well. To this day, she still wasn’t sure who she was actually praying to—God or the Great Spirit. For all she knew they could be one and the same.
Jim and Gwen raced each other back to the buggy and climbed up onto the seat. Gwen never hesitated as she moved onto the driver’s side, eager for her turn at the reins.
Jesse handed the sack of doughnuts up to Jim. “Now, no eating them until we get home.” Then, she tried giving Gwen her most stern look. “And don’t you leave without me. I’ll be right back,” she said half teasingly before turning away. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she walked across the street and disappeared through the door of the mercantile. Once inside, she picked up a week’s worth of mail and a newspaper. As she paid for the paper, she glanced at the twins who were clearly visible through the large window on the front of the store. Seeing they were fidgety, she tucked the paper beneath her arm and left, thumbing through the letters on the way back to the buggy.
“Hurry up, Pippa!” Gwen shouted.
Jesse looked up from the mail in her hand. She thought it was Gwen who had yelled but wasn’t for sure. At their age it was hard to tell their voices apart. She quickened her step, knowing her daughter was anxious for her turn to drive.
Heading down the lane leading up to their house, Jesse asked Gwen to stop when she saw Armand, his head visible over the rows of grapevines. She turned to Gwen. “Go tell him to come up to the house and have doughnuts with us.”
Gwen leaned over Jesse and shouted at the top of her lungs. “We. Got. Doughnuts. Come to the house.”
Armand turned and waved. “I will be there shortly,” he shouted in reply.
Although it wasn’t exactly what Jesse had meant, she couldn’t help but chuckle. It was just the sort of thing she would have done. With her ear still ringing, she stuck her finger in ear and rubbed. “That’s not what I had in mind. C’mon driver, take me to the house.”
Abby was seated in a rocker on the front porch, coffee cup in hand, when they pulled up. Gwen let go of the reins with one hand and waved to her mother, smiling as if she were the star of her own parade.
“Both hands on the reins, young lady,” Jesse said. “Pull it up to the barn. Since you two are old enough to drive now, you’re old enough to tend to the horses.”
As soon as the buggy came to a stop, Jesse jumped down, making sure to grab the sack of doughnuts off the seat. “When you’re done with the chores,” she said, holding up the brown sack, “these will be waiting on you.” She turned to walk away but then stopped abruptly. “Oh, and when you’ve finished, run over and get your aunt and uncle.”
Jesse climbed the porch steps and set the sack on the table next to Abby’s chair. She sat down in a matching rocker, the folded newspaper and bundle of mail piled in her lap.
“You let her drive?” Abby asked with raised eyebrows.
“Actually, they both did. Jim drove on the way into town. They’re growing up so fast. I’ve been thinking—”
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“You make me nervous when you say you’ve been thinking,” she said, half teasing.
Jesse stopped rocking and leaned over to put her hand on Abby’s leg. “Aren’t you witty this morning?” She sat back and resumed rocking. “I know you thought the twins were too young last Christmas, but I think this year would be perfect. Don’t you?”
Abby knew what Jesse was referring to. It was a discussion they had had many times. It was something Jesse had wanted to do for more than two years, but Abby was always adamant that the twins were too young.
Abby glanced toward the barn. Jim and Gwen had already unharnessed the horses. Something about the prospect of a bag of fresh doughnuts had put their work ethic into overdrive. Each one had a horse in tow as they led them into the barn. There was no denying how fast they were growing.
“All right,” Abby said her words coming out in a sigh. “Let’s do it this year.” Although she was reluctant, she could already see the joy it would bring them. “Can you picture their faces when they see them?”
“I know. I think it will be their best Christmas yet. I’ll have Toby be on the lookout for the perfect ones.”
“Uh…Maybe we should start them out with ponies.”
“Nah, ponies are for babies.” Jesse glanced at the bundle of mail on her lap. “Oh, I almost forgot. You got a letter from Mabel.” She picked it from the stack and handed it to her.
Once a month, like clockwork, Abby had been getting a letter from her dearest friend. Mabel’s life was much different than when they had last seen her. The changes had been slow to come. Initially, when Abby first left Ely, Mabel had spent a lot of months lonely and alone. She had done her best to hide her despair in her letters, but she and Abby had been friends since they were children, and she was able to pick up on it even if it wasn’t written in ink.
Abby worried about her friend for a very long time. Until one day, she wasn’t. Something in the tone of one of her letters changed. Happiness seemed to leap from the page. And then, two paragraphs down, she read the reason why. Mabel had met a man. Not just a man—the man.
Abby was thrilled for her, but it quickly turned to apprehension when she learned Mabel’s fella was thirty-two years her senior. She had let the letter fall in her lap as she tried to process what she had read, coming to the conclusion that who was she, of all people, to judge? Besides, age was just a number, she reasoned. The gentleman was a widower, and one very well off from the sound of things. More importantly, he was good to Mabel. That, she told herself, was what mattered most.
After that letter, everything happened very quickly—so quickly there wasn’t even time to send word of their upcoming nuptials. Before Abby knew it, Mabel was married and living on his homestead in Omaha, Nebraska. Despite her reservations, Abby could tell by the tone of Mabel’s letters she truly had found the happiness she had been searching for her entire life.
Now, Abby tore into the envelope, excited to read about the newest installment in her dearest friend’s life.
“Oh, how wonderful, “she said when she had finished. She clutched the letter to her chest, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
“What?” Jesse asked.
“Mabel. She’s expecting their first child this winter. Do you think someday we could go visit her? She wrote here in her letter we could be in Omaha in a week if we took the train.”
“I don’t see why not,” Jesse said, her rocking chair coming to a rest. “You know I’ve always wanted to ride one. I wonder how much tickets would cost?”
Abby handed her the letter and pointed to a certain paragraph. “She said it’s around seventy dollars for each of us to ride in a sleeping car. And, she said children under twelve are half price. I’m dying to meet her husband. I just hope he’ll be a good father.”
Jesse knew the question she was about to ask was a tenuous subject. She decided to ask it anyway. “Speaking of fathers, do you ever think about writing to yours?”
Abby’s brow furrowed. Her rocking faltered before resuming its normal pace. “No. Why would I do that?”
It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. Jesse thought often of her own father. She would give anything to be able to see him again, even if he had been a drunk.
“I was just wondering if you were curious about him. I know he had problems with alcohol. But I can’t help but think about what would’ve become of me if I’d have lost you and the twins during childbirth.” Jesse glanced uncertainly out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe he’s changed over the years. I’m sure he’d want to know he’s a grandfather now.”
As if by divine intervention, the twins came racing toward the house. “The kids are coming,” Abby said, her tone clipped and somewhat distant.
Jesse knew from her tone the conversation was over. She also knew better than to say anything more on the subject in front of the children. They knew nothing about their grandfather in Missouri.
Jim took a seat on one of the steps. Winded, he struggled to catch his breath. Jesse’s thoughts shifted to her son, and all talk of fathers was forgotten for the moment. Both women hurried to his side.
“Slow, deep breaths, Son,” Jesse said, placing a calming hand on his back.
It had been this way for him ever since his bout with the fever that nearly took his life. He forced one wheezing breath after another from his taxed lungs until his breathing returned to normal. It was always a scary thing to witness.
Abby could tell Jim was starting to get his breath. “Better?” she asked.
“Better, Ma,” he said. “Can I have a doughnut now?”
Abby was about to answer when she looked out across the yard and saw Toby and Aponi. Toby walked at her side, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Aponi’s hands were laced beneath her oversized belly as if she were carrying it across the lawn. Her gait was more of a sway, and it was comical, though no one dared laugh.
Abby turned to Jesse. “If she doesn’t have that baby soon, I think she might pop. I thought for sure she would have it last night.”
“I did too,” Jesse said. “I’ll be right back.”
She went inside to the kitchen and dropped the folded paper and the rest of the mail on the table. After making herself a cup of coffee, she returned to the porch and sat on the steps in between Jim and Gwen, enjoying the precious time spent together with her family.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It was midmorning by the time Jesse, Jim, and Gwen headed to the barn to work on their special project. The twins were her co-conspirators on a surprise for Abby. When she managed to have their attention, she helped them guide the chisel to carve a floral pattern into the wooden door of the master bedroom.
It didn’t take long before they lost interest, choosing instead to swing from a rope hanging from one of the barn’s exposed beams. Jesse continued to work on the intricate details, the sound of her children’s laughter lightening the atmosphere of her normally hushed workspace. To her, their playful noises were like music playing in the background. Unfortunately, even the rope swing wasn’t enough to keep them entertained.
“Pippa, you almost done?” Gwen asked impatiently.
Jesse looked up from her work. “Almost.”
“How much longer are you going to be?” Jim asked.
Jesse straightened up, hands on the small of her back. “All right. Since I’m not likely to get any work done with you two pestering me, go get your poles—and run over and get your uncle,” she said, waving them on with a smile. She watched them race out of the barn, nearly knocking Abby over in the process. She remembered being their age and how excited she got at the prospect of pulling in a big one. The memory made her chuckle as she hurried to drape a heavy piece of canvas over the large slab of wood resting on sawhorses.
“You didn’t read the paper this morning, did you?” Abby asked, newspaper held in hand. Abby considered burning the paper after she read it, ensuring Jesse would never see it. Her heart told her to destroy it, but her
head told her she had to tell her, regardless of the consequences.
Jesse laid the chisel on top of the canvas. “No, not yet.” She bent over and brushed the wood shavings off her denim pants. Knowing how much Abby liked to shop, she asked, “Why, is there an ad for another sale at The Dress Boutique?”
Abby unfolded the paper and placed it on the canvas. On the verge of tears, her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”
Jesse looked at the paper, her eyes wide with shock, as she took in the headline. There it was, in large-black font: Massacre on Mount Perish. She felt weak, her knees began to buckle and she had to grab hold of the wood slab for support as she read the article. The written words blurred as her tears pooled in her eyes. Then they spilled over, causing some of the letters to bleed into black-ink starbursts.
Jim and Gwen came racing into the barn, a fishing pole gripped in each of their hands.
Jesse turned and hurried to wipe away the evidence before they saw, but she was too late.
“What’s wrong, Pippa?” Gwen asked. It was the first time she had ever seen her father cry. Fear made her voice small.
Jesse didn’t answer.
Abby leaned down to her level. “Friends of your fathers were hurt.”
“Are they going to be all right?” Jim asked.
Abby placed her arm around him. “No, Son. They were hurt very badly. Can you take your sister and go to the house, please?”
Jim and Gwen left their fishing poles resting against the canvas tarp. They cast a glance at Jesse over their shoulders as they left the barn, fear and confusion twisting their young features.
Abby ran her hand up Jesse’s back. “Are you all right?”
Jesse used the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes again as a spark of anger ignited inside her. “Lies,” she said. She threw the newspaper into the wood chips at her feet. “They’re saying the troops were attacked. You know damn well that’s not the way it was. I have to go.”
Abby grabbed her by the arm. The color drained from her face. “No. No you don’t have to go,” she said, pleading. “There’s nothing you can do now.”
