by Vivi Holt
Holly’s brow furrowed and she twisted her fingers together. “Now, Rodney my dear, it’s just a small hole in the dirt, nothing to get so worked up about. Look, I’ll just fill it in with my boot … see? There now, it’s all fixed. I don’t think we should take it so far. He’s only a small boy, he doesn’t understand …”
Rodney’s face turned purple as it contorted. “That is the exact problem, right here! You spoil the child!” He set Edward on the ground, keeping a firm hold on his collar, and marched into the house. Edward staggered behind him, sobbing and crying out each time his uncle jerked him forward.
“Rodney!” Holly hurried after them, still wringing her hands. “Please, can’t you see you’re hurting the child?” Her heart felt as though a hundred horses were racing a circuit inside it, and sweat ran down her back, soaking the fabric of her bodice. What could she do? She couldn’t bear little Edward’s whimpering.
Rodney shoved Edward toward a corner of the parlor, then turned to her, combing his fingers through his beard until it looked wild. His cheeks burned like flames. “There – that’s what he deserves! And none too soon as far as I’m concerned!” He brushed his hands together as if pleased with himself and marched from the room.
Holly glanced at Edward as she fought back tears. It was completely unfair to treat him that way – his entire life had been uprooted, his father was dead and now he was being punished for being a little boy. She wanted to leap onto her brother-in-law’s back and pound him with her fists, but instead she folded her hands in front of her and scurried from the room in his wake.
He’d retired to his office, throwing himself into the oversized armchair behind the mahogany desk where his papers were neatly stacked beside a large ashtray. He pulled his pipe from the top drawer and set the end of it between his teeth.
Holly took a long breath. She should think before she spoke, lest she say something she’d regret. “Rodney …”
“Don’t bother trying to petition me on the boy’s behalf. He’s done his dash with me.”
She frowned, her nostrils flaring.
“And I’ll ask you to leave me be, as I’ve a good mind to … no. I’ll say no more on the subject now. But if you care for your own wellbeing, you should go.” His eyes narrowed and he patted his vest pockets, one at a time, until he found a pouch of tobacco and removed the pipe from his mouth to stuff its round end full. Finally he lit the pipe and inhaled a mouthful of smoke with a satisfied smile.
Holly closed her eyes and pushed her shoulders back, tipping her head up until her chin jutted forward. This wasn’t the end of the matter as far as she was concerned. She knew it was his house, but he had no right to discipline her children for her. That was her job, and though she’d had everything else taken from her and felt as though she couldn’t sink any lower, the children were still hers. She spun on her heel and left the room. “Of all the pompous …,” she muttered, gaining speed and steam as she went. “How dare he?”
But as she made it up the stairs and flung herself onto her bed, her anger dissipated and was replaced by fear. There wasn’t anything she could do – she and the children were at Rodney’s mercy. They had to take whatever treatment he deemed fit to give them. She rubbed her eyes and released a single sob. “Oh Lord, what shall I do?”
The question hung in the air, and she felt hopelessness descend over her. There was nothing to be done. She and her offspring lived off her brother-in-law’s charity, and she was being ungrateful after all he’d done for them. Of course he had a right to insist Edward not dig up his garden, or Heather not whistle in the house as he’d done earlier that morning. It was his house, and his rules must be upheld.
She sighed and let her mind drift back once again to Charles. This time she was digging in the garden, kneeling on a rug beside the bed, pulling weeds with gloved hands. Her distended belly, Eleanor inside, made her back ache. She held her hand over it as the kick of a small foot brought a smile to her face, then reached down again to yank a particularly stubborn weed.
Charles snuck up behind her just as the roots gave way. She sent the weed flying over her shoulder, her eyes widening in dismay as she saw it smack her husband in the forehead. Dirt fell in his hair and down the collar of his shirt. He froze, his eyebrows low over sparkling blue eyes. She grimaced and shrugged … and he leaped at her, tickling her beneath her arms and up and down her sides.
She laughed hysterically and attempted to wriggle free, but he tightened his grasp. His own low chuckle only made her laugh harder. Careful not to bump her bulging stomach, he threw his arms around her and pulled her close as his lips closed over hers. Her eyes drifted shut and she relaxed in his embrace as a deep sense of warmth, belonging and love flooded her soul.
When he pulled away, he looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching with glee. “You’re a terrible gardener, Mrs. Bristol,” he’d crooned. “Just as well I didn’t marry you for that, but for other reasons entirely.” She’d blushed beneath his gaze and giggled as he bent to kiss her again.
Holly sighed and opened her eyes, the memory fading as she stared at the vaulted ceiling above the bed. Charles was gone, and so was the home they’d built and shared. Now she had to rely on the fragile largesse of her family to care for her children.
A sharp rap on the bedroom door made her sit up straight with a start. “Yes?”
The door creaked open and her sister Eve peered around its edge. “Holly, do you have a moment?” she asked in her thin high-pitched voice.
Holly nodded. “Of course, Eve dear – come on in.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping her sister hadn’t seen.
Eve sat beside her on the bed and drew a long, deliberate breath.
Holly’s pulse quickened and she glanced with worry at her sister’s peaked face. “What is it, Eve?”
Eve faced her and took Holly’s hands in hers, her cheeks growing pinker with each passing moment. “Holly, I don’t know how to say this …” Her gaze dropped to the bed and she sniffled, then pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her nostrils.
Holly waited, her breath frozen in her throat.
“I do wish you wouldn’t fight with Rodney so.” Eve sniffed again, looking up at Holly with bloodshot eyes.
“I’m sorry, Eve, I didn’t intend to. It’s just that … well, you know how protective I am of the children, especially after losing Charles and the house … I just want to take care of them and perhaps I overreact sometimes.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, her sister’s glimmered with unshed tears. “Holly, Rodney says you must leave.”
Holly frowned. “What?”
Eve burst into tears, covering her face with her handkerchief. “He says you’ve overstayed your welcome and you and the children must find somewhere else to live. Oh, I’m so sorry, Holly! I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen …”
Holly’s eyes widened. What was Eve saying? Leave … how could they leave? She had five children – there was nowhere else for them to go. Charles’ family had disowned him, so they certainly wouldn’t take her in. Her own family consisted only of Eve, Rodney and some distant cousins in Massachusetts she’d never met. “But Eve, what in Heaven’s name do you mean? Where will we go?”
“Rodney says he doesn’t care where you go, so long as you don’t come back. Oh, my darling sister – what will you do?” Eve collapsed against Holly’s shoulder, her tears wetting the wool of her dress
Holly’s heart thundered in her chest. She sat still, thoughts whirling in her head. She’d talk with the children, tell them to behave better. Surely Rodney would change his mind. Perhaps if they played more quietly, helped more around the house … maybe they could stay. Fear wove itself around her heart and curled into a lead ball in her gut.
2
Kurt’s eyes flicked open. He blinked. The room he was in tipped and swayed, out of focus. He kept blinking, and slowly his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He could hear
rainfall pounding on the roof. He was in a small space, felt the walls closing in on him. He sat up quickly with a gasp, feeling as though something was crushing his chest.
“There now, Mr. Sawyer, just lay back down again. Yer hurt real bad and ya need the rest. Dr. White’ll be right back – he just stepped out to get fresh bandages. We had to wash ‘em after the Stanton boy got his leg run over a few days ago and had to be wrapped from ankle to hip.” The woman who spoke chuckled and stepped closer to him, a cup of water in her plump hands. “Here, have a sip.”
Kurt nodded, took the cup and swallowed a mouthful, then winced as the pain in his head rushed back. He’d hurt himself, but how? His head was foggy, and he found himself reaching for thoughts, but they kept swirling away. “What am I doing here?” he finally rasped.
The woman’s eyebrows arched in surprise and she rested a hand on his shoulder. “Lay back down, Mr. Sawyer, and I’ll tell ya all about it.”
He complied, grimacing as more pain flooded his neck, shoulder and back.
“Ya came knockin’ on our door a half-hour ago. Ya didn’t say a word, just fell down soon as my husband opened the door. Wasn’t hard to figger out why – ya had hoof prints on yer head, big ones. That jog yer memory any?” She reached for a damp washcloth on the edge of a porcelain bowl beside the bed, then dabbed his forehead, gradually working toward the crown of his head.
He shuddered as a wave of pain and nausea burst over his consciousness.
“Sorry. I’m sure that hurts. Just tryin’ to get it clean – ya got all kinds of mud and grit in these wounds.”
Kurt studied her face as she bent over him. She looked like a kindly grandmother – gray curls, blue eyes sparkling beneath thin eyebrows, a turned-up nose, dimples at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
“Don’t mention it.”
He heard footsteps and glanced at the foot of the bed. Dr. White was there, frowning. “Howdy, Doc.” He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“Mr. Sawyer. Glad to see you’ve recovered your senses. Can you tell me what happened?”
Kurt closed his eyes, feeling the room spin. He sat up – and immediately threw up, right into a bowl the doctor swung in front of him at the last moment. Mrs. White wiped his mouth clean, then rinsed the washcloth in the bowl. “Sorry,” Kurt mumbled, laying back down again with a gasp as another stab of pain shot through his head.
“Never mind that. I believe you have a concussion, young man.” Dr. White returned the bowl to the side table and checked the pulse in Kurt’s wrist, studying the pocket watch in his other hand and mouthing numbers.
“I think it’s coming back to me,” Kurt began, letting his eyes drift shut. “I was plowing and I hit something. I stopped to check the plow, seeing as it’s Will Drake’s – I’m just borrowing it. Then there was a clap of thunder and Sam backed up and stepped on me.”
“Oh dear,” murmured Mrs. White.
“Sam’s a big horse, I’m guessing, from the size of these hoof prints,” the doctor remarked.
“Clydesdale. Draft horse.”
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Mrs. White again.
“Is there somewhere in town you can stay a few days?” asked Dr. White as he unwound a thick white bandage.
“My brother lives nearby. Angus Sawyer – he owns the mill on the other side of town.”
“Oh yes, I’ve met Angus,” the doctor replied. “He’s a good man. Well then, as soon as I get you fixed up, I’ll head over to his house to let him know you’re here. I do believe you’ll be fine, Mr. Sawyer, but please be more careful in the future. I can’t say I’m certain how you managed to get yourself here alone in this storm at night with a concussion, but thank the Lord you did. Now sit up if you can – slowly.”
Kurt did so, and considered Dr. White’s words while he fixed the bandage around his head. How had he managed to get to town? He couldn’t remember much of the journey. And Sam … where was he? “Sam?” he blurted.
“I guess that’s your horse, eh? I found a Clydesdale wandering around outside – he’s in my stable around back. And he’s fine, don’t worry about him.”
Kurt sighed in relief. He couldn’t afford to lose Sam, even if the horse had almost stomped him to death. He was a reliable, hard-working animal, and Kurt didn’t have the money to replace him anyway.
When Dr. White left to fetch Angus, Kurt lay back down and stared at the ceiling, willing it to stop spinning.
“Someone was sure watchin’ over ya tonight.” Mrs. White bustled around the room, straightening up and wiping things clean. “Ya know, it ain’t right for a young man like yerself to be livin’ out there all alone. If ya had a wife and family with ya, they could’ve taken care of ya. Ya almost died out there today, and who woulda known it?”
He frowned and took a long breath. She was right. He’d never felt so alone in his life as when he’d regained consciousness out on the ranch, with no one to raise an alarm. Perhaps it was time for him to find a wife. But where? There were few eligible women in Wichita, that he knew for certain after a year there – and those were either too old, too young, or “soiled doves.” And he had no intention of leaving Kansas just to find a wife.
But the thought of spending the rest of his days out there alone sent Kurt’s heart into his stomach. He had to do something.
“You awake?”
Kurt’s eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply. His brother Angus stood beside the bed, his usually neat hair disheveled and his button-down shirt only half-tucked into his pants. “Yeah.” He sat up slowly, his head spinning. “Sorry they had to wake you to come get me.”
Angus shook his head, his eyes dark. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”
“Doc says I’ll be fine. Just a bit dizzy still.” He let his legs drop over the side of the bed and winced at the pain in his neck. The doctor had adjusted his arm, saying something about a dislocation, and it still radiated pins and needles.
“Can you walk?”
Kurt frowned. “I can try.” And he succeeded, using Angus’s arm for support. They walked out the door, waving goodbye to Dr. and Mrs. White, then headed south down Lawrence Street. Wichita was small but growing fast. Lawrence, one of its main streets, was quiet at this time of night, but during the day it bustled with wagons, buggies and cowboys on horseback. When Angus arrived there in 1871, the town had just been incorporated.
“We’ll need to come back to get Sam tomorrow,” Kurt said. “I left Sal standing in the field. I undid the harness so he can get to water, but he’s still attached to the traces. I have to get back to the ranch to take care of him and the other animals …” His head swam with all the things left undone.
Angus nodded and sighed. “I’m worried about you, all alone out there.”
“I’m fine,” Kurt responded defensively. He knew his brother had hoped he’d set up a business in town, but that wasn’t his way. He didn’t like cities and never had. He wanted to be out in the open, watching the wind blow through the tall grasses and horses kicking up their heels or grazing in the field.
“Anyway, Mrs. White already gave me a talking-to, so I don’t need it from you as well,” he snapped, then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do about it. Mrs. White says I should marry and have a family, but marry who? There’s no one here fit to marry. Maybe I could find a boarder, but who would want to board on a ranch?”
Angus chuckled and ran a hand over his black beard. “Not me, that’s for certain. But I do have an idea about how to find you a wife.”
Kurt’s eyebrows lowered. What was his brother up to? “Do tell.”
“Just leave it to me. But tell me this – if I find you a wife, are you willing to marry her?”
“You’ll find me a wife?!”
“I will, and I’ll make sure she’s suitable. But you can’t be fussy, you understand.”
Kurt pursed his lips. He knew he’d given up the chance to marry whomever he chose when he’d moved west.
But he’d hoped he might someday find someone he could love and spend his life with. If his brother was willing to do all the work to find him someone, he could hardly refuse. “All right – if you find me a suitable wife, I’ll marry her.”
“It’s a deal.”
Holly tied the string of her bonnet beneath her chin and studied her reflection in the looking glass. Her cheeks were paler than usual, and she leaned closer to study the dark circles beneath her eyes. She’d barely slept a wink since Eve told her of Rodney’s decision. Even thinking about it made her tear up.
She could hear her nephew James coughing in his bedroom down the hall and the low murmur of Eve’s voice as she comforted him. The coughing worsened, and Holly frowned. Poor James had always been a sickly lad. The doctors had told his parents they didn’t expect him to live to adulthood given the sad state of his lungs, and his parents had wrapped him in cotton batting ever since. Holly didn’t approve of how they coddled him – ironic, given Rodney’s criticism of her parenting skills – but she’d never say so to him or Eve.
She adjusted her bonnet one last time, pinched her cheeks and left the room, heading down the hall toward James’ bedroom. “Children, we’re going!” she called.
She heard the stamping of five pairs of feet as her children hurried to don hats and boots. No doubt they’d been procrastinating getting ready, playing in their rooms. With a tight smile, she shook her head at their hurried whispers.
She stuck her head in to her nephew’s bedroom, focusing on where Eve sat on the edge of James’ bed. Even though the morning sun shone brightly through the windows elsewhere in the house, in James’ room the heavy drapes were still drawn, keeping the room in melancholy darkness. “Eve?” she whispered, careful not to speak too loudly. She didn’t understand why her sister insisted on everyone using hushed tones around the boy – it wasn’t as though a loud noise or raised voice would cause him any harm – but she respected her wishes.
