BECCA Season of Willows

by Sara Lindley

  “Love you Mac, my son. Mazie, my daughter and loving wife Becca. Love you always.”

  River closed his eyes and started trying to sing in his deep bass voice.

  Beca grabbed his face in her hands.

  “NO! Don’t you dare! Don’t you die on me! You shut up singing that damn death song! I’ve heard it enough around here! We have a baby coming River! You better damn well not die! You look at me and hold on. River! Still River?”

  Tuck came running up and knelt by River ripping off his shirt. He pressed the spots where the bullets went in and held it there. Tuck nodded to Becca.

  “I sent Fringe on paint for the Marshall and the Doc. They should be here soon. Fringe will ride at a damn high gallop for River. Hold on my friend, you still have a shit load to do here.”

  Becca sat by River with Mac and Mazie in her arms. They watched Tuck pressing the wounds to stop the blood.

  A swishing noise of skirts was heard beside them. Auntie Marcie stood wiping her eyes and ran to the kitchen setting up a kettle of water to boil.

  “Becca! We heed bandages! Quickly now! Hurry!”

  She was rushing around the kitchen looking for things. “Towels and sheets! I need a sheet for the dining table. The Doctor will want him there. Get the lanterns lit! We need lots of light!”

  Soon it seemed everyone had a job trying to save River. Some of the cowboys came and lifted him carrying him to the table. Tuck was pleased that he wasn’t bleeding anymore but you could see the concern on his face with River’s shallow breathing.

  Half an hour later the Doc came riding in on paint. He pushed through the people and saw River already stripped and on the table. Tuck told him about the shots from the small pistol.

  “That just might just be what saved him besides the man is a poor shot…or a good one. It looks like he didn’t hit anything vital. Those girlie hand pistols the eastern men use are for shooting squirrels off your roof or the Fourth of July race gun. Small bullets and no real power. Let’s hope that he didn’t hit anything important.”

  Doc washed up and putting on a apron. Getting all his tools out he though he would need he dumped them in a pan of hot water and poured some whisky in. He pulled out the thing for hearing hearts and listened to River’s heart he snorted.

  “The man has a heart beat like a bull! It’s that breathin’ that bothers me!”

  He pulled out a metal tube and poured whisky on it. he made a cut in the side of River’s left breast and shoved in the tube. Blood immediately started to pour out of the tube.

  He placed a bowl on the floor to catch the blood. The Doc got started on getting the bullets out and with in a couple of hours he had River stitched and bandaged up. He listened to his breathing one more time and nodded. River was holding on. He was still alive.

  The Marshal arrived and heard what happened from each person. He cursed and knelt rolling Ernest over checking for a pulse. He shook his head. The man was dead before he hit the floor.

  The Marshall was surprised. The man really shouldn’t have been here and he was interested why? Uncle Frank sat down and told the whole sorted story. Then Becca took over and told the rest. After she finished her explanation she sat on the chair in the kitchen and held onto River speaking softly with him as Mac and Mazie held onto her.

  The Doctor came to the dining table and patted River.

  “This is gonna sound real stupid but his color is better.” Becca smirked. Mazie walked to River and crawled up on a chair to kiss his cheek.

  “Ahte?”

  She kissed his cheek again.

  “I love you.”

  Becca though her heart was going to burst for love of little Mazie.

  “What’s the girl sayin’?”

  The Doc caught her attention and Becca grinned. She ran her hand through Mazie’s black hair. “She’s saying ‘father’. She’s speaking Sioux.”

  The Doc nodded and ran his hand over the child’s hair too.

  “I think your Ahte will be fine child. He is just healing right now.”

  The Marshall came in and looked at the familial scene. Mazie was running her little fingers through Rivers long hair. She turned to the men standing.

  “That bad, bad man shot my Ahte River. He’s a bad, bad man.”

  She turned to run her hands through his hair again and kissed his face. Mac came around the table to look at his father and hug his sister.

  “The bad man is gone, Mazie. Pa saved us with his knife but it looks like Tuck shot him too. Pa was protecting us from that piece of ….”

  Mac sobbed and his face buried in River’s neck.

  “River! River! Pa! Yuh got to live! Ahte! I love yah!”

  Becca had tears running down her face and saw the Marshall look like he was in pain and he sniffed.

  “Ah hell! I got to get in the other room or I’ll be bawling too. Shit!”

  The Doctor gently chuckled and patted Mac’s shoulder.

  “He’ll be fine son. He’s doing real good so far. Every one just needs to settle down. I would practically guarantee he is going to be fine. He’s breathing real good now. That new procedure I read about is done real good. I’ll have to write that doctor and tell him. Who knows? River may become famous by getting shot.”

  The whole idea was so ridiculous to Becca, she laughed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  River opened his eyes and it was morning. The sun was shining . He was late to milk Mrs. Astor.

  He tried to rise and pain went through him and he gasped. A soft hand was immediately there. Becca’s dear face was there to comfort him. He smiled at her and she started to cry and kissed him all over his face. She smelled like lavender and tasted like coffee. His favorite.

  She wiped her face.

  “That damned Ernest shot you twice, that dirty skunk!”

  River frowned and shifted in the bed. “He dead?”

  River gave a raspy cough from his dry throat.

  Becca nodded as she adjusted his sheets.

  “You got him with a knife in his chest as Tuck shot him in the back. And good riddance, I say!”

  She fluffed a pillow and gently raised his head and put it behind him.

  “The Marshall has been here and the Doctor is coming back by today to check and see if you’ve curled up your toes yet. I think he just might be disappointed.”

  River rolled his eyes at her and she laughed. She stopped and sat on the bed by him reaching for his hand.

  “I was so scared, River. If you hadn’t killed him he would have shot us all. He was going to kill the children! And then that evil man shot you! Twice! I thought I was going die!”

  She poured River some water and lifted his head. River drank it all. He let out a big “Ah” and looked at her.

  “I remember now. You a brave wife, Becca. You threaten your husband when he is singing death song. You telling me not to go! Not to leave you! I remember! I stay for you and so our children have good father…me!” Becca grinned and chuckled.

  “That’s right! Only you!”

  She looked deep in his eyes and bent and held him in her arms. Her cheek brushed against his as he smelled her hair and felt the softness of her skin.

  “My Becca…”

  She gently hugged him and whispered in his ear.

  “My Still River. I love you so much.”

  She looked at his face and he was asleep again. She kissed his lips again.

  “I love you.”

  Over the next two weeks Becca was beginning to rethink that she loved him unconditionally.

  He was a ‘bear’ when he was healing. He bitched about things he should be doing and then got down right ugly. He cursed about Tuck doing his chores and then cursed about Tuck taking Becca to town. River even grabbed the back of Auntie’s skirts and yanked them when she made him drink his medicine. He was being a naughty rascal again.

  Becca walked into their room on the day River had Auntie almost fainting and white as a sheet telling her about all the ‘ha
la’ scalps he had taken. He was going into great detail of killing untold amounts of ‘hala’ and stopped abruptly as he saw his wife at the door.

  Becca walked in and fisted her hands on her hips. River grinned innocently. This is the Becca I love.

  “Still River McGann! You have yanked the tail of that story enough! Auntie? He tells a good tale, don’t you think? All those poor, poor ‘hala’!”

  Her Aunt waved a handkerchief and dabbed her face. “Oh Becca…scalps?”

  Becca showed a face of sorrow and shook her head. Then she glared at River and spit out.

  “A hala is a flea, Auntie. A flea!”

  Becca looked at River’s eyes sparkling with mischief and she narrowed her own at River as he chuckled. Auntie Marcie stood straight and gave a curt smile.

  “So you had me so upset over dead fleas. A flea you say? I think I shall go make a cup of tea.” Auntie Marcie turned and frowned at River that changed into a smile.

  “Naughty man!”

  River laughed and took a sip of his cup of coffee. Becca had to chuckle at him. He was almost well enough to love on.

  Two days later the Doc closed his case and looked at River giving him a hopeful look.

  “Glad I came by. You are officially healed but you already knew that. You are well enough to take over with chores again River, but you have already been doing that, I suppose.

  So! I hope NOT to see you again real soon. Stay out of the line of fire. I’m going home. Don’t overdo it!” He picked up his case and headed for the front door.

  Becca stopped him and held out a sack. “Here yah go Doc. Some of my chocolate cake to keep you company.” The Doc’s eyes glittered with joy.

  “Well, this is mighty fine Becca, mighty fine. Thank you.”

  He gave her a peck on the cheek.

  They heard a loud voice from the bedroom.

  “No! He is taking chocolate cake you bake for me and kissing you? This is no good way to treat husband Becca!”

  The Doc patted her cheek and chuckled.

  “You take care of bossy in there and let me know when its time for you to give him that baby. Okay? Sent Tuck or Fringe.” Becca chuckled.

  “You will be the second one to know, I promise.”

  The Doc chuckled as River stumbled up behind him.

  “You go! No kissing my wife. You get your own!”

  The Doc barked a laugh and skipped down the stairs to his horse.

  “Yeah. I’m workin’ on it River! I’m goin’ right now over to the Widow Parson’s ranch. She tells me that she has an itch that only I can scratch.”

  He waggled his brows and let out a laugh. He jumped into his buggy and turned his horse towards the east. He waved and yelled out.

  “Hold on to your hair, River!”

  He set his horse at an easy pace and was soon out of sight. River grunted as Becca laughed.

  “Ha! Ha! Very funny! Hold on to my hair! Ha!Ha!”

  He picked up his hat and coat and yanked them on as Becca watched him.

  “Where yuh goin’ River?” He flashed her a quick smile as he tipped his hat.

  “I go to scalp some Hala in the barn.”

  Mac came running out of his room.

  “Can I go with yuh, Ahte? I have a great need to scalp some Hala.”

  River snorted and grabbed his son’s shoulder.

  “Come son. We will make war together.”

  Mac got his hat and coat on and ran down the steps with River.”

  “Are we really gonna make war with the Hala, Pa?”

  River grunted and nodded.

  “We will kill many Hala this day. We are going to curry and brush all the horses we can.”

  Mac frowned and kicked an innocent bit of dirt.

  “Ah hell, we’re gonna do chores!”

  River grunted and barked a laugh.

  “Yep!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Thanksgiving was just three days away and Becca was busy as a cat with a room full of kittens. Uncle Frank and Auntie Marcie had gone back to Virginia saying they wanted to be home for Thanksgiving. Becca was already missing her flighty relatives. She had prepared for this all summer and fall harvest. She wanted this holiday to show every bit of love and gratitude she had for all that had happened in just these few months since she had gotten off that train in Colorado Territory.

  The peaches had been preserved. The apples had been dried. Nuts and berries were prepared for the stuffing. The bread was rising in the pans. She would make the pie dough today and start the baking.

  For just a moment she thought of Harrison and how much she had spoiled him with her baked goods. Her heart warmed knowing she had done her best for him and to be the best wife she knew how.

  “Thank you, Harrison. I hope you are happy where you are. Thank you for everything.”

  She smiled and went to work making the pies. With new cowboys hired and her family to feed, this Thanksgiving was going to be a full house.

  She trimmed the ham and scored it. She had Mazie and Mac help poke whole cloves in it.

  Then Becca made a marinade of oranges, spices and honey for the ham while it baked. The best potatoes were chosen and carrots were brought up from the cellar. As the day arrived, Becca felt a great satisfaction in her handy work. Pies were setting to cool. The ham turned out perfect. The venison roast was off the spit, sliced and ready.

  The large table in the dining room was set and the sweet tea was made and coffee. The table in the kitchen had all the food that the warming oven couldn’t handle.

  Finally she had it all set out and rang the dinner bell as men came spilling out of every door of the bunk house and the barn.

  Each man had on his best and was clean and shaved. Even River got wide eyed at the spectacle.

  They all sat down at the table as Becca poured coffee or sweet tea. She sat at the foot of the table and smiled at River at the head. River held up a hand for silence. He looked around the table with love and admiration.

  “I was ask by my wife to say prayer for food but I changed mind. This year has brought much change for much good out of great sorrows. I sat by Willows at the stream and thought much of this year. And after I think, I ask my son, Mac to ask prayer for us because he was one to start the wheel to turn as Great Spirit moved over my family.

  Mac? You have prayer of thanks to Great Spirit for us?”

  Mac stood and nodded.

  “I do, Ahte. I have written it down so I could remember it all.”

  Mac looked around at the faces at the table and looked at his paper. Everyone bowed their heads.

  “Dearest Great Father Spirit, I ask that this be a happy day for our friends and family.

  We thank you for making us in all our sorrow like the Willow by the stream. We remained green and bend with the winds but our roots are deep as we draw water from the stream.

  Give us comfort to know our Pa and Aunt Nola are with you and are happy as we think of them today. We give thanks and are grateful for family and the friends who have stood with us as we moved through many sorrows to healing.

  Thank you for our lives and the gifts from this land we love. Amen.

  Everyone looked around the table understanding the sweet moment of the prayer. There were whispered ‘amens’ around the large table as Becca lifted the mashed potatoes and passed them to the left.

  “Let’s eat!”

  She briefly looked up to see Still River, her wonderful husband watching her with a look of love in his eyes that went all the way to her butterflies in her stomach. The baby kicked to let her know he knew what she was thinking. Becca grinned and giggled at River.

  “I love you too, Still River with all my heart. You, our children and all our extended family here at this table.”

  She patted Tuck’s arm at his blushing. The other cowboys sniggered.

  Still River sighed knowing he loved Becca with a deep love and a passion he would have for life. He winked at a giggling Mazie and squeezed Mac’s sho
ulder giving him a wink.

  He looked into Becca’s eyes once more remembering the great, great sorrows, the open laughter and abundance of love this year had brought.

  Reaching for the biscuits and gravy, he piled his plate with food as he stuffed a warm biscuit in his cheek and grunted winking at his wife. “Is good…is very good.”