The Woodsman's Rose

by Gifford MacShane

  Her kiss said more than words could have.

  “I’ll see you later.”

  “Be careful,” she called as he left her.

  WHEN THE DAY WAS DONE, Daniel was satisfied that the roof would need only one more day of work. He walked through the fields toward the dairy, grateful for the feel of the damp grass beneath his feet. Annie’s right. Even in the big farmhouse, you can feel like the cage is too small.

  A scream splintered the peace of the evening. He broke into a run, then realized Annie’s premonition had come to pass. He heard one more scream as he drew near, but silence greeted him at the door. He sprinted into the house, taking the steps by threes and fours until he reached the landing on the second floor. Molly came from the bedroom and took Lowell by the hand, but Daniel couldn’t hear their voices.

  By the time he reached him, Lowell slumped against the wall, his face as white as the best Irish linen. The woodsman put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up.

  “A s-son,” the dairyman stuttered. “M-my son.”

  Daniel put a rough hand in his hair, then hugged him tightly. “Congratulations.” His gruff voice was full of joy. “They’re both all right?”

  Lowell seemed to come back to life. “I have a son!” he said, loud and prideful. “We have a son!” He fell into his friend’s arms once again, pounding him on the back, then demanded, “Where in blazes were you when I needed you?”

  Chapter 45

  Adam Griffiths was healthy and strong, and squalled in the Donovan family cradle. The family had gathered for dinner at the dairy farm on the evening of the last dance of summer. His women were decked out in their finest, his sons in their Sunday best, and John Patrick was happy as he looked out over the table at their shining faces.

  Evelyn sat on his right. She was fully recovered from childbirth and radiant with the joy of motherhood. Lowell doted on her and his new son, and Rebecca had been staying with them for a few weeks to let the household settle into a routine. He watched now as Rebecca reached up to touch the watch pinned to her dress. He’d found it amongst Katie’s jewelry and given it to her in gratitude for her care of his mother, her help to all the family. He caught her eye now and smiled. She nodded in acknowledgment, in thanks, but the slight shake of his head told her that she wasn’t in his debt. Her calm, serious face lightened for a moment and she nodded again.

  Next to her sat his younger twins with their brides across from them, Patricia engaging in vivid conversation while Suzette listened intently. Next to Patricia was Irene, her whole body alive with excitement as they talked about the evening’s dance. Her eyes were a blue as deep as the ocean, flecked with green. Her complexion was perfect and her black hair, lately worn in a braid like Annie’s, was piled on her head in a topknot. She is a beauty. She has the very face of Ireland. We could have named her Rosaleen.

  Owen sat next to Jake. He was a man of average height, which made him quite a dwarf in the present company. Only Annie and Jesse (and of course little Adam) were shorter than he. But he’s quite the big enough man. A few inches wouldn’t change him. I’m glad his children are happy with mine. Lord knows that mine couldn’t be happier.

  Carolyn Hodges had joined them, too. News had come from Flag that her erstwhile husband had died, shot for cheating at cards, and speculation was rife within the Donovan clan as to whether—or really when—she and Owen would marry.

  The old man’s attention shifted to the argument his older sons were having at the far end of the table. The last thing to be done before the winter was to create another entrance to the Rocking Chair Ranch. With Jesse’s baby due in January, they couldn’t take the chance of her being snowed in. He and Adam and Daniel had agreed there was no way to keep the narrow, quarter-mile-long entrance to the canyon free of drifting snow, but the woodsman had found a smaller outlet where the brook babbled through to join the river. The canyon wall was only seven feet wide there and the existing tunnel was high enough for a man to crawl through. If they could build a small bridge and make the opening high and wide enough for a buggy to pass, the problem would be solved.

  “You can’t just chip away at it,” Daniel was saying. “In the first place, you’ve got to control the amount of falling rock so the whole wall doesn’t cave in on you. And in the second place, if you let too much debris fall into the brook, you’ll create a dam. We’ve got to build a kind of boardwalk first, while the hole’s still small, to keep the brook free of falling rock. And then we’ve got to find a way to control what falls.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Adam asked in exasperation. They’d come to the same point in their discussion before.

  “I don’t know how. I just know it’s got to be done.”

  “Riley said he worked on the Central Pacific,” Owen put in.

  All eyes turned toward him, speculation and confusion rife.

  “That he did,” responded John Patrick, “but what can it mean to us?”

  “They tunneled through the mountains, didn’t they?” Owen asked. “With dynamite? I wonder...”

  “Right,” said Daniel. “That could work, ‘cause what we’ve got is a little tunnel to start with. If he knows how to blast it, to support the walls at the same time, that’s all we need to know. And if he doesn’t know how to do it himself, maybe he can tell us who to get. I’ll talk to him tonight if he’s there. He usually brings his kids, doesn’t he?”

  “They’re such beautiful children,” Jesse said. “It’s a pity they have no mother.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” repeated Daniel. “If he’s not there tonight, I’ll go into town tomorrow. We need to do some stocking up anyway, don’t we?”

  He addressed his last remark to Annie. She wore her dress of jade silk and when she’d put it on, he’d fallen in love with her all over again. He’d spent most of the meal involved in his own thoughts, trying to find a way to refuse to let her dance with anyone else. Between her father and his, his brothers and hers, not to mention Alec and Tommy and anyone else who asked, he’d be lucky to have every second dance with her. He caught her hand under the table and held on tight. He’d let the evening bring what it might, then take her home and show her exactly how much he loved her.

  And maybe Jesse will dance tonight, though it’s on the verge of propriety. His sister-in-law wasn’t one to stand on tradition when there was fun in the air. They’d be careful of her, all of them, but if she wanted to dance, they’d indulge her. It was no hardship to make her happy.

  And dance she did that evening, but only the waltzes. Daniel knew she didn’t care a whit what the old ladies whispered behind their fans, but she sat for long spells, waited on by Donovans, Griffiths, and Twelve Trees. After the first with her husband, she had only one dance with each of her brothers-in-law, and one with Alec. She danced, finally, with Eli Sykes, then put his hand in Rebecca’s with a sly little grin. Later, Adam led her to the dance floor for the last waltz.

  “Look,” Annie whispered to Daniel, as they glided around the room. “Look at Jesse.”

  Daniel stole a glance at her: her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkled with delight. She met his glance and sent him a smile before Adam’s steps turned her away.

  “She’s almost as beautiful as you are. And he’s almost as lucky as me.” Daniel saw that same look steal across Annie’s face and thought, We have been blessed, my brother and I. I wonder what we ever did to deserve them.

  “I love you so much,” he whispered. He pressed his lips against her forehead and her small sigh made him content. Tonight, he thought, tonight I will show her exactly how much I love her.

  Chapter 46

  John Riley had been a blaster in a coal mine in Ohio before coming West to work on the railroad. He agreed to examine the canyon’s potential new entrance. He told Daniel he’d left his work upon the death of his wife, for he couldn’t leave his children alone all day. “Aye, here I am with the most dangerous job in the wide world, and Grace it is that dies. Of appendix-itis, while the doctor’s
off to Sacramento for some damn convention or other.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the woodsman.

  “Aye. What’s done is done and can’t be undone. I just wish me wee Norah could get over it.” Riley made a conscious effort to pull himself together. “But let’s go and see this tunnel you’re talkin’ about. Be nice t’ hear the boom-boom of dynamite again.”

  At the canyon, they showed him the tunnel the brook had made. He shook his head. “Nay. Ye’ve no way t’ keep the whole wall crumblin’ down on ye. ’Twill never do.”

  The Donovan men exchanged glances.

  “What is meant to be will be,” John Patrick muttered as he started toward the entrance to the Rocking Chair Ranch.

  “Yon lassie wants her babe at home?”

  John Patrick’s voice held a note of desolation. “Aye. She’s lost one already.”

  They’d just come through the gates and entered the narrow trail to the cabin when Riley pulled his horse up. “Y’know, there’s a way to widen this trail here. Most o’ that wall is shale, it breaks up easy. It’s the reason ye canno’ blast o’er the brook—it breaks up that easy ye canno’ control the fall.

  “But here...” He pointed with his pipe. “Here ye’ve no brook to worry ye. And the blast shouldn’a carry far enough to disturb it. But we can reinforce it, just in case. Have ye got a place to take the gravel?”

  “We’ll find one,” answered Daniel. “You’re telling me we can blast this entrance wider?”

  “Be a helluva lotta work, but it can be done.”

  “What does it take?”

  Dynamite, men and wagons. And a place to take the gravel—tons of it. It wasn’t a day’s work or a week’s, but a month’s work—easily. Riley would be glad to help if arrangements were made to look after his children. His son Tim was in school, he said, but Norah rarely left the house. Mrs. Hodges had agreed to watch her today but Norah was panic-stricken when he left, fearing that he, like her mother, wouldn’t come back.

  John Patrick shook his grizzled head. “Poor mite. ’Tis always hardest on the little ones.” After a few moments’ thought, he asked, “Does she like animals? Cows and such?”

  “Aye, loves all the critters. Cows an’ ducks an’ geese. An’ kittens—loves kittens best.”

  Donovan’s eyes sparkled. “There’s a new litter of kittens at the dairy farm. My daughter Evelyn would be glad to have your little girl in her home. Evelyn has love to spare, and an understanding of a child’s mind beyond my ken. Tim could perhaps do some little chores for Lowell and maybe learn about cows to keep himself occupied.”

  The younger man sat thoughtfully on his horse for a few moments, then stuck out a hand to John Patrick. “Aye, seems ’twould benefit all around. Suppose we start on Monday. I’ll need time t’ get me gear together. Do ye think,” he added, “that the little ones could go for a visit t’ the farm first? Before they’ll have t’ stay, that is?”

  “Good idea. Bring them Saturday. We’ll have a picnic lunch and let them explore the place. You know where it is?”

  “Aye. An’ maybe I’ll learn a thing or two about farmin’ meself!”

  The arrangements were made. Norah was as happy at the farm as she was anywhere, and Tim spent the hours after school trailing behind Lowell and giving him more help than the dairyman would have thought possible. Knowing Daniel didn’t want her to be alone in the cabin, Annie divided her time between the farm and the canyon. She and Jesse became even closer, and it was Annie who became little Norah’s confidante, who soothed her pain and assuaged her grief, and played with her and the infant Adam for hours on end.

  Norah’s shyness with Evelyn soon resolved itself into love, for the tall red-haired woman had a gentle touch and a tender voice, and taught her lullabies and let her help with the baby’s bath. The children were happier than they’d been since their mother’s death, and John’s absence for part of each day helped Norah to conquer her greatest fear.

  One morning the little girl came from the barn with a kitten under her arm. “Where’s Annie?”

  “Annie has a headache today,” Evelyn answered.

  Norah was quiet for several minutes, watching Evelyn dry dishes. Unheeded, the kitten scampered away.

  “Will she die?”

  Evelyn pulled out a chair. She held her arms out, and Norah crept into her lap.

  “Annie gets headaches sometimes,” Evelyn explained in a gentle voice. “Sometimes they make her very sick. But, Norah, people can get sick and not die.” She stroked the girl’s fair hair. She’d already sent Lowell to Daniel—the headache wasn’t too serious and Annie was still conscious, though in great pain. Evelyn was sure she spoke the truth to the little girl in her arms. “Norah, some day Annie may get sick and die. But not today. Some day,” she said, “some day, everyone is going to die.”

  “But I don’t want her to. I don’t like it when people die.”

  “No, my love, I don’t like it, either. But there are some things you and I can’t change, aren’t there? Like the sun coming up in the morning, and the wind that blows and messes up our hair. We like the sun and we don’t always like the wind. But the sun doesn’t always come out, and sometimes the wind feels nice. But there they are, and we can’t change them.

  “Annie will be all right, and she’ll be here in a few days to play with you. In the meantime, why don’t you say a prayer that her headache doesn’t hurt too much?”

  Norah closed her eyes and her lips moved silently as she prayed for her friend. When she’d finished, Evelyn hugged her tight. “You’re a very good girl. I’m sure Annie feels better now.” A small smile appeared on Norah’s face. “Why don’t you go find your kitten? I think he went into the parlor and maybe he’s climbing the draperies!”

  She skipped off happily, eagerly, and Evelyn said her own prayer for Annie’s recovery. It isn’t fair. But then I guess it’s one of the things I just can’t change. If I had one wish in all the world...

  Chapter 47

  Daniel’s thoughts were an echo of his sister’s. He’d been wakened before sunrise by the whimpering sounds his wife made in her sleep. He could see the erratic pulsing of the vein in her temple. He slipped from the bed, went out to light the brazier, and before she opened her eyes, he was ready with her medicine and a hot cloth for her head.

  “Da...el.” Her first word was little more than a moan. Her eyes were half-open, the pupils like black points in the sea.

  “Yes, aroon, I’m right here.”

  “...hurts...”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He lifted her head off the pillow. “Drink this now. It’ll make you feel better.”

  She drank it slowly, her hands shaking as she helped him to hold the cup. “Oh, it’s horrible,” she whispered and forced a smile.

  “I know.” He brushed the hair from her face, knowing she was trying to mitigate his worry. “Here...” He draped the cloth over her eyes. “This should help, too.”

  “Mmmm.” She brought one hand up to press it close over her right eye and temple. Her other hand reached for him. “Don’t go.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Daniel.” The medicine made her voice weak. “Tell Norah I’m sorry.”

  “I will, sweetheart. Don’t worry about anything. Norah will understand. You just go back to sleep now. I’ll be right here.”

  “Dan...iel.”

  “Shhh. Go to sleep, aroon. Sleep now and don’t worry.”

  She surrendered at last to the pull of the laudanum. He sat there with her until he was sure she was deeply asleep, then heated the cloth again. She whimpered once more as it touched her face, and curled over on her side. She’d sleep now for four hours or more and maybe when she woke, it wouldn’t be as bad. If I had one wish in all the world, he thought with a sigh. Gran always said if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. He thought of the old lady and whispered, “Help her, Gran. Help her. Let it not hurt so much.”

  Jake came a little later, for his father was concerned: Danie
l had been joining them every day to help with the work in the canyon. Lowell came shortly after and to each he gave the same answer,

  “She’s all right. She’s in a lot of pain, but it’s not serious. She’ll be all right.”

  He was sitting at her side late in the afternoon when she opened her eyes again. Her breathing hadn’t been regular for several minutes—telling him the pain wasn’t completely gone. But her hands were stronger as she reached for him and her smile wasn’t forced. He held her close and kissed the top of her head.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded against his shoulder but said nothing. She wouldn’t use her voice, as it would waver and break for some time after she woke, a side-effect of the medicine. She snuggled closer and he stretched out on the bed and cradled her head against his chest.

  He felt the little catches in her breath, the momentary spasms that told him the pain was still there. He waited for a while as it sometimes faded after she woke up. When he knew it hadn’t diminished, he poured about one-third of an envelope of laudanum in a glass of water and offered it to her.

  “But it’s better,” she protested.

  “Liar,” he said with a laugh in his voice. Though the drug induced a sense of being out of control, of drifting, she’d told him she minded it less when he was with her than she ever had before. Again she made a face at the bitter taste. “Wonder if it’d taste any better if I put some honey in it? I’ll have to ask Doc if that’s okay.”

  “We’re supposed to go honey-hunting,” she said, her voice trailing off weakly.

  “End of the month. We’ll have to find a big hive, too. Mother said she’s out of mead. Maybe we’ll have to find two.” He stroked her hair, watched as her eyes closed again. She’d sleep for an hour or so and he’d have a light supper ready when she woke again, in case she wanted to eat. And tomorrow, he felt sure, she’d be better.