by Vivi Holt
When Kurt reached Tripp, he scooped the child up into his arms. “Tripp?” Tripp didn’t respond. His eyes were closed, long lashes black against the pale skin of his freckled face. Kurt’s heart fell. “Tripp, can you hear me?”
Still no response. He jogged toward the house with Tripp in his arms, his frown like a razor cut across his face.
Holly poured a spoonful of pancake batter onto the griddle, where it sizzled in the melted bacon grease. The songs of birds filled the air as they flitted outside the cottage, preparing for nightfall. Heather and Sarah set the table for supper, while Eleanor pushed a toy horse around the floor – a gift whittled for her by Kurt during evenings by the fire.
The air grew cool once the sun set now, and Kurt had assured Holly that winter would be cold, though not nearly as cold as New York. They would probably even have snow for Christmas. She’d been preparing for the new season and was satisfied with all she’d managed to achieve in such a short time.
She heard the rapid tramp of boots across the yard. Her heart leaped at the sound of Kurt’s approach, and she wiped her palms on her apron. He must have finished his chores already, and no doubt he’d be hungry. She’d grown to enjoy their conversations at supper and after. During the day he was working out on the ranch, but evenings were their time together. She’d taken to settling the children on their pallets earlier and earlier, anticipating conversation by the fire with her new husband.
But when he burst through the door, the look on his face and the limp form in his arms made her heart drop. “Tripp’s hurt,” he called. He carried the boy straight into the bedroom and laid him on the bed, boots and all.
She rushed to Tripp’s side and knelt, pressing a hand to his forehead. “What happened?” she asked Kurt.
He shook his head. “I told him not to set foot in Sheridan’s pen. But he did it anyway and the beast sent him flying.”
She gasped, her pulse racing. She couldn’t lose her boy. She checked him gently all over with both hands, looking for any sign of injury. Finding no blood or broken bones, she turned again to Kurt, her throat tightening with each moment. “Where is he hurt? Did you see what happened?”
Kurt removed his Stetson and sighed. “Well, I trimmed Sheridan’s horns back after he used them on some steers a while ago, so the boy wasn’t gored. But the bull caught him straight on and flung him against a tree trunk. He might have hit his head pretty hard, and I’m sure he’ll have some bruises.”
His words brought her some hope. If only the boy would move. “Tripp?” she whispered close to his ear. Still nothing. She hurried to the washstand, poured water from the jug into the bowl, wet a cloth with it and carried it back.
As she gently wiped his face, he began to stir. “Ma?” he murmured, blinking his eyes.
She laughed with relief. “Tripp, where does it hurt?” she asked, resting a hand on his forehead.
He gripped the crown of his head with both hands. “My head’s pounding something fierce.”
She laid the wet cloth across his forehead. “I’ll mix up a poultice – maybe I can find some herbs in the garden to help. You silly child, venturing into a bull’s pen that way. You could’ve been killed.”
He offered her a weak smile. “Sorry, Ma.”
“Well, you should be glad Kurt was there and saw what happened. He carried you all the way back to the cottage, I’ll have you know. I hate to think what might have become of you if he hadn’t been there. That bull might’ve decided to jump the fence and have another try.” Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and she fought them back.
Tripp glanced sideways at Kurt, who lingered in the doorway. “Thank you,” he said.
Kurt nodded, his cheeks coloring and disappeared into the living room.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, straightening and hurrying after Kurt.
She found him in the front room, pacing between the girls as they watched him goggle-eyed. Holly watched for a moment too, then met him at the kitchen table. “Thank you, Kurt. I mean it – I’m glad you were there. Thank you.”
He put his hands on his hips, his eyes flashing. “What about the next time?”
She froze. “I’m sorry …?”
“What about the next time that boy decides he’s had enough and does something foolhardy? What then? I can’t watch him every moment of the day.” He frowned, rubbing his mouth.
She frowned. Was he angry at her about something? “I’m not sure what you mean …”
“He’s doing stupid things because he doesn’t want to be here. He hates me and he’s determined not to accept this life.” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I … I didn’t know it’d be this hard, Holly.”
Despite his concerns, her heart skipped a beat when he said her name. The word sounded like honey on his lips. She ducked her head. “I know. It’s always more difficult when there are children involved, that’s for sure. But …?”
“And you didn’t tell me. That’s what stings the most. You didn’t say you had children until it was too late to turn back.”
Her brow furrowed. “Now hold on just a moment – I did tell you, as soon as I knew we were coming. How was I to know you’d send me a ticket after one letter? Besides, you could’ve put us on the next train back to New York if you didn’t want to take us on. And what about that advertisement your brother wrote – “successful landowner,” with the address of his mill? Hrumph!”
His eyebrows lowered. “I told you, that wasn’t my doing.”
“So you say.” She crossed her arms, unwilling to let him push her around. She’d done what she had to in order to protect her family – she wasn’t about to be shamed for it!
He sighed and closed his eyes a moment, and when he opened them she saw resignation lingering there. Her bravado faded and she sunk into a chair, resting her head in one hand.
“I’m sorry, Holly. I just don’t know how to work this out.”
Her gut roiled with fear. Was he going to ask them to leave? She could feel it coming and swallowed the bile that rose up her tightening throat. “So … what are you saying?”
He sighed. “Maybe you and the children should go back to New York. I mean, it’s not what you expected, I know. I’m not what you expected. And I don’t know if Tripp will ever accept me …” He trailed off and started to pace again.
She watched him, her thoughts in turmoil. They’d have to leave. He didn’t want them here any longer. What would they do? Where would they go? The tears that had threatened for so long finally snaked their way down her cheeks. She sobbed, covering her mouth to quiet the sound.
But it was too late. He’d heard and came hurrying to her side, kneeling next to her chair, his face drawn. “I’m sorry. I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to – I thought you wanted to go home. I just want you to be happy … I don’t know what to do.” His words tumbled out as he cupped her face in his work-worn hands.
She leaned her cheek against his palm and let her eyes drift shut even as tears continued. “We’ve nowhere else to go,” she whispered. A lump formed in her throat and she tried hard to swallow it.
When she opened her eyes, he was studying her with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “I just feel …”
“What?” she asked, lifting a hand to caress his cheek.
He looked down at the floor and inhaled deeply. “… like I’m not enough. For you, for the children …”
She frowned as his gaze met hers, but she didn’t look away. It was as if she was finally seeing him for the first time: the faintest freckles across his strong nose, the flecks of green in his blue eyes, the pain that lingered behind them. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” She raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You’re a good man. And I’m sorry we’ve turned your life upside down this way. I understand why you’d want us to leave …”
His brow furrowed, he caught her hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed it, lingering there a moment. “I don’t want you to leave. Not if you don’
t want to. I just thought … I thought you weren’t happy here – you or the children – and I didn’t want you to think you had to stay.”
She forced a smile. “Where else would we go?”
9
Sam and Sal stamped their hooves, seemingly impatient to begin the journey to town. Holly pinned her hat on her head as she walked to the wagon. Everyone else was already loaded up and waiting for her. Tripp sat glumly on the wagon seat with Kurt. He’d recovered well from his encounter with Sheridan – just a few bruises and a couple days of double vision – but still looked pale and sullen.
His siblings were crowded into the wagon bed, wrestling and arguing about nothing. Holly rolled her eyes and peered over the wagon rail. “Behave yourselves. We’re going to town and I want to see company manners from all of you.”
They righted themselves, looking sheepish. “Yes, ma’am,” four little voices said in unison.
Kurt finished fixing the traces in place and hurried to help her up to the seat.
“Thank you,” she murmured with a smile. As she settled beside Tripp, she couldn’t help thinking about the conversation of a week earlier. Kurt had suggested they should go back to New York, but only if that was what she wanted. He hadn’t raised the subject since, and she’d largely kept out of his way. She needed time to think. Perhaps they should return home, but if they did, she’d need a plan for when they got there. So far, she’d come up blank.
She supposed they could move to Morgantown, though it made her stomach lurch. It was the last place on Earth she’d ever want to go, but she knew people there and could conceivably get work, especially since the state of West Virginia had opened a university there. Likely they’d be able to board with one of her old friends for a reasonable rate until they got their own place. But she didn’t wish to take her children to the very town where her own childish innocence had been dashed.
The wagon set off, the horses easily pulling their load. Tall, big-boned with shaggy manes and forelocks, the Clydesdales trotted sedately down the winding trail that would lead them off Kurt’s ranch and directly to Wichita.
She glanced at him, back straight, his black vest buttoned over a long-sleeved white shirt. His town clothes – she’d ironed them for him the previous night, using a flatiron warmed by the fireplace coals. He looked dapper and handsome, with his hair neatly combed beneath the brim of his hat.
He caught her eye and smiled. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Indeed.”
“I thought we might stop in and see Angus – if that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, of course. That would be lovely.” She knew she’d see his brother and sister-in-law sometime, but after the way the churchwomen had treated her the first time she’d attended First Presbyterian, she had kept to herself.
She gritted her teeth. There was nothing for it but to suffer her way through it. Granted, Angus and Beatrice hadn’t mistreated her – Angus had been polite enough, but she had no way of knowing how they really felt about her – did they take the same unfair view of her as those women had?
Unfair, but not completely incorrect – she had married Kurt in part to have someone to care for her children. She wouldn’t deny it. What other way was there for a woman like her, without a penny to her name, to support her family? She had to marry, and she wasn’t about to apologize for doing what was necessary, nor let her children go hungry if there was some way to prevent it. Those busybodies could go hang for all she cared.
Her brow furrowed as anger burned in her gut. What business of theirs was it? And if Angus and his wife dared to say anything like that, she’d make sure they knew her side of things.
Kurt’s eyes narrowed. “You look like a snake with a frog stuck in its throat. Are you all right?”
She frowned. She hadn’t told him about the churchwomen. He’d likely find out on his own what people were saying about them. That’s how gossip worked – it always slithered to find the people it tore down. But all the same, she wanted to get it off her chest. “Do you remember the first Sunday we went to church?”
He nodded.
“There were some women there who were all in a lather about us. They said I had no right to marry you, like I was preying on you.” Her cheeks burned and her stomach clenched at the memory of their words and the hurt they’d caused her.
“They said that to you?”
“Yes. I guess I’m concerned that your brother and his wife might feel the same way. Seeing as how those people are their friends.” She stared at her hands clenched in her lap.
He coughed to clear his throat. “Well, now, that wasn’t right.” He scratched his beard and looked her in the eye. “They shouldn’t have said anything, seeing as it’s none of their business. And more importantly, they’re wrong.”
“They are?” she asked, hope stirring.
“Of course they are. We married each other because we wanted to. No one was taking advantage of anyone. I knew what I was getting into. And I’m a grown man, aren’t I?”
She nodded.
“So there you have it. I decided to marry you, so I did. That’s all. And if any of them have a problem with it, you can tell them to take it up with me, and you’d best believe I’ll set them straight. Preying on me … hah! As if I was a prairie hen.”
Holly laughed in relief. “Thank you. I’ll make sure to tell you if they say anything else.”
He nodded, his eyes flashing. “You do that. And don’t fret about Angus and Beatrice. They’re not like that – they’re excited to see you. They told me themselves the last time I was in town.”
Holly smiled. “I’m looking forward to seeing them as well.” She took a deep breath as the anxiety that had weighed her down began to dissipate.
Kurt snuck a glance at Holly as they reached Wichita. She seemed to feel better after their discussion earlier – he was glad about that. He intended for them to stop at the mercantile first to get some supplies before heading over to Angus’ house.
The town had grown so much just in the year since he arrived. The railroad brought new settlers every week. Businesses sprouted all up and down Main, Market and Lawrence streets, and new construction sites ran all the way down to the river and even across it. The sights, sounds and smells of the town always struck him the moment he left the peacefulness of the countryside, and every time he was grateful he could leave and go back home to the ranch. He’d embraced rural life the moment he moved away from New York, and happily so.
He stopped the wagon in front of the mercantile and leaped down to the dusty street with a grunt. He tied Sam and Sal to a hitching post and patted Sam’s neck as the horses slurped water from the trough nearby, then helped Holly and Tripp down while the other children tumbled out of the back.
When they entered the mercantile, the children ran around, exclaiming over the barrels of candy, apples, flour, oats and more. There was a display of boots in one corner, some bolts of cloth behind the counter and pocket knives lined up in a small, lockable case on top of the counter. All as he’d hoped – he intended to surprise Holly.
He knew she’d been having second thoughts about staying; heck, he’d suggested himself that she take the children and go home. He wished he could take back those words – they’d driven a wedge between them ever since. He’d just been so upset by the incident with Tripp and the bull, and figured the boy would never accept their new life with him. But Tripp had actually been polite to him since then, and he’d begun to wonder if perhaps the boy’s attitude had changed after all.
He ran his fingertips along the counter as a man wearing a black suit, white shirt and pinstriped apron smiled at him from behind it. “How’re you doing?” he asked.
“Just fine thanks – and you?” replied Kurt. Then he looked closer. “I haven’t seen you in here before.
The man nodded and chuckled. “That’s right. I’ve just bought the place from Mr. Hungerford. It’s my first week – still finding my way around.”
Ku
rt arched an eyebrow. “Good for you. I’m Kurt Sawyer. Glad to meet you, Mr. …?”
“Brown, Handley Brown. Nice to meet you, Mr. Sawyer. You just let me know if you need help with anything –”
They were interrupted by a fussy-looking fellow standing behind Kurt – Mr. Werner, the postmaster. “Hold on … Sawyer, you say?” he remarked in a strong German accent. “I belief I have a letter for somevon named Sawyer …” He reached into his shoulder bag and pulled one out. “… ja, here it is. Goot thing I was here already delivering Mr. Brown’s mail. It says it is for a Holly Sawyer. One of your relations?”
Kurt grinned. “That’s my wife, over by the candy.” He waved in Holly’s direction.
“Wunderbar – here you go. You can give it to her yourself.” Mr. Werner tipped his hat and bustled out.
“Thank you kindly,” said Kurt to Mr. Werner’s retreating back, tucking the envelope into his back pocket.
“Anything I can help you with?” asked Handley.
“Actually, could I take a look at that blue fabric with the black pinstripes?” Kurt pointed at the bolt leaning upright against the wall.
“Sure can.” Handley lifted it onto the counter.
Kurt rubbed the fabric between his fingers, craning his neck to see where Holly had gone. She was whispering fiercely at Eleanor and Edward beside a barrel of red-and-white-striped peppermint sticks. “Holly? Could you come here a moment?”
She spun around, her cheeks flushed. “Yes, Kurt.” She hurried to his side, nostrils flaring.
“Everything all right with the children?” he asked, glancing over her shoulder to see the two youngest standing on tiptoe to peer into the barrel.
“Yes, it’s fine,” she replied unconvincingly.
“Well, I just wanted to know what you thought of this blue cloth.”
