1773
"Kathleen! Where's yer brother?"
The blonde sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I dunno, mum!" she called back over her shoulder. "'Twas supposed ta be cuttin' wood for da!" She returned her attention to the peas she was snapping into a bowl for their evening meal. Under her breath, she mumbled, "I don't understand why I'm ta know what he does every wakin' moment."
"Because yer the eldest and the one with the responsibility," her mother reminded, a faint smile on her face. She ignored her daughter's blush, patting her gently on the back as she reached for the bowl of peas. "I'll finish these. Ye go find Stewart and tell him his da wants help with the tilling."
"Aye, mum" Kathleen muttered. She rose from the stump she was using for a chair and stomped off to locate her errant sibling.
The prior year the McGlashans finally paid off their debt and had joined a group of like minded individuals heading west. They'd only just finished work on their new home, a single story cabin with three rooms, and had begun working the land in earnest. Things had been hard this first year, but it had looked up through the summer - the soil was fertile, the land was green and growing, and a natural spring ran near enough that a well wasn't necessary. Their nearest neighbor was the widower Adam Stevens three miles to the north. A bit further away were four or five other homesteads and the closest sign of civilization over six days travel to the east.
The disgruntled teenager made her way around the side of the cabin. Her brother was nowhere near the woodpile, the ax imbedded in an old stump. "That brat!" She stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the wilderness around their home.
A large stand of maple was near, on the northeastern side of the cabin. Kathleen could make out the sight of her father in the field to the west of the homestead, urging their cantankerous mule to pull the plowshare. Her grandfather was in front of the mule, tugging on the bridle and not doing much good.
Grandda's gettin' old, she mused with a tinge of sadness. He'll join Gram soon. She heaved another sigh. Back to the task at hand. "Stewart!" she called.
From a distance, she heard his voice. "What?"
Turning towards the small barn, she marched towards it. The door was standing wide and she stepped in, stopping to allow her eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting. "Stewart?"
"Aye, Kath, I'm right here."
Kathleen could make out a smaller form over by a stall. "Da's lookin' fer ye, Stewart. Wants ye to help with the plowin'." She moved closer to her little brother. "What're ye doin' in here, anyway?"
The eleven year old was hanging on the partition and grinned over his shoulder. "Watchin' Caleb." He waved a hand at the animal in the stall.
The teenager leaned against the railing as well, peering in at the new addition to their farm. Their milk cow had given birth that spring to a calf. It had immediately captured the younger McGlashan's fancy and he spent near as much time with the animal as he did with his family.
"He's growin' like a weed," Kathleen observed.
Stewart's grin widened. "Aye, he is," he answered proudly, as if he'd something to do with the natural growth spurt of a young bull.
Kathleen shook her head in exasperation. "Ye better get out ta the field. Da's lookin' fer ye."
The boy sighed and brushed his unruly blond hair from his eyes. "Guess yer right, sis." He waved at the calf. "See ye tonight, Caleb," he offered before pushing away from the partition and heading for the door.
From outside, their mother's voice could be heard. "Kathleen!"
"Ah, I'm in trouble again," the girl grumbled. Her eyes flashed angrily at her brother's laugh.
Stewart patted her gently on the arm. "When aren't ye in trouble, lass?" he asked. "Ye've been on the wrong side of mum's temper so long, I don't think ye'd know what 'twas like ta not be." And then he scampered off before she could smack him.
Growling, Kathleen watched him go and wondered why what he said was so true.
"Kathleen Sarah McGlashan!"
"Aye, mum! I'm comin'!" She lifted the hem of her dress and jogged back around the house.
"I don't understand why I have to get all cleaned up, mum!" Kathleen complained from the wooden tub she currently occupied.
Rachel bustled about the main room of their home, putting the final touches on the cookies before popping them into the small dutch oven in the fireplace. "I've told ye, lass. We're havin' comp'ny fer supper."
The blonde frowned. "Does Stewart have to clean up, too?"
"Aye. He'll have ta clean up some as well," was the vague reply.
Somethin's not right here, Kathleen mused. Who could be comin'? The only neighbor near is the widower Stevens
. And I never did this the last time he came ta eat here. The teenager worried the problem as she finished her bath.
"Here, love, let me help ye wash yer hair," Rachel interrupted her daughter's thoughts.
Now I know somethin's fishy! Mum hasn't helped with my hair in... well, in ferever!
"I've always loved yer hair, lass," Rachel murmured once she'd begun lathering the blonde tresses with soap. "It's so much thicker than my own."
Uncertain, Kathleen murmured, "Thank ye, mum."
"Ye've grown to be such a beautiful young woman, too. Every day ye look more and more like my ma." There was a comfortable silence. "Do ye remember yer Gram?"
"Aye, mum. She had white hair and taught me to play the tin whistle."
Rachel smiled at the memory. "Good. I'm glad ye do. She was a wonderful lady."
Despite herself, Kathleen closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, the strong fingers massaging her scalp feeling so nice. "What's really going on, mum?"
The older woman debated with herself for a moment. "Widower Stevens is comin' ta dinner."
"But why'm I gettin' all cleaned up then?"
"Kathleen," her mother started, "he's a lonely man. His wife passed away two years ago and he's out there on that farm by himself with no sons to help out."
The teenager's brow furrowed as she considered this statement. For some reason, she wasn't understanding what her mum was trying to tell her.
When there was no response, Rachel continued. "And yer not goin' ta find many other choices out here in the wilderness for a husband, Kathleen."
Blue eyes flew open as the full weight of her mother's comment hit her. Marry him! She wants me ta marry him! "But.... But, mum," she sputtered, pulling away and turning to peer in horror over her shoulder. "He's an old man!"
Rachel's mouth pinched together in irritation. "He's not that old, lass. He's only twenty-eight." To forestall further comment from her eldest child, she held up her soapy hands in warning. "And a good provider. Why, he's got a good ten acres of land in seed now, and it's growin' every year!"
"I don't care how much land he has!" the teenager yelled. "I'll not marry him!"
The older woman sighed explosively and rose to her feet. She picked up a nearby towel and wiped off her hands, speaking all the while. "It's not like we're tryin' to marry ye off today, Kathleen! We're only invitin' him to break bread with us, give the two of ye a chance to get to know one another. Yer too young to be married yet."
The blonde brushed soapy bangs from her eyes. "I am?"
"Aye, lass. Do ye think we're that barbaric? To wed our oldest child to a stranger at fourteen?" Rachel sighed again and shook her head sadly. "It's just that there's not many options fer a pretty young lass out here. We can only do the best we can."
"Aye, mum." Kathleen ducked her head in shame.
"Promise me ye'll give him a chance, Kathleen." When her daughter raised her eyes to look back, Rachel returned to kneel by the tub. "Promise me. It's not Widower Stevens' fault, either. Don't be takin' things out on him."
The slumped shoulders were far more eloquent than the words murmured from the teenager's mouth. "Aye, mum. I promise."
"Good!" Rachel rose to her feet, a smile on her face. "Now, rinse yer hair, love, and I'll help ye dry off and get dressed." She mo
ved away to check on the cookies, humming under her breath.
The teenager heaved a heavy sigh and did as she was bade.
Dinner had been a strained affair from Kathleen's point of view.
Her mother had dressed her in her finest and helped put her hair up. All the while, she was regaled with hints of how to carry herself in the presence of their dinner guest. When the men came back from the field, the responses were mixed. McGlashan and O'Neill were properly awed at the beautiful young woman blushing by the fireplace.
But when Stewart giggled at her, Kathleen lost her decorum and chased after him as he bolted out the door. Despite the stern commands from their da to return, she caught the little brat and knuckled his head for his disrespect.
Widower Stevens arrived on a horse at the required time, a tall, thin man dressed in dark clothing. The men immediately gathered together and began discussing the weather, the crops, and the animals. Stewart kept himself underfoot, trying to entice the visitor to the barn to see Caleb.
Kathleen watched surreptitiously from a window. He's not a bad looking man, she finally allowed. If we 'twere to be married, our children would be blond. And he appears to be gentle and kind. The teenager sighed and turned away, catching her mother watching her, a smile on her face. With a grimace, she returned to stirring the pot of stew.
Everyone sat at the table for the evening meal, though the women stayed more on their feet while they served the men and boy. Conversation ranged through various topics from the standard day-to-day existence to the rumblings from the colonies to the east.
"Ye know, there's talk of revolution in the colonies," Stevens commented. He smiled up at his neighbor's daughter who refilled his cup of water. "We get news so late here, though, I doubt we'd hear of anything 'til years after the fact."
"Aye," McGlashan nodded. He pushed back from the table. "Stewart, get my pipe. There's a good lad." As the man opened the tobacco pouch and began packing the bowl, he continued. "I'd heard that a British ship ran aground last year at Rhode Island. 'Tweren't long before the colonists themselves burnt it out."
"Things are gettin' volatile, and that's fer certain," Stevens said. "Out here, though.... Not much call to get involved. Don't reckon that the British will get this far into the wilds."
"Probably not," McGlashan agreed.
"But, da," the boy piped up. "Didn't the British get this far up north? They were fightin' with the French up by the lakes."
Their guest nodded. "True, lad. But, now they've got all the land b'tween here and there full of colonists who aren't happy with the way things're goin'. At least up north they had the support of the colonies."
The talk continued on as the women gathered up the remains of the meal. The men eventually wandered outside into the night to smoke and chat some more of politics and the like. Rachel used the time wisely to speak with her daughter.
"See, Kathleen? That wasn't so bad now, was it?" She scraped the remains of the meal onto a single plate.
Reluctantly, the teenager nodded. "Aye. 'Twas all right."
"And ye see what I meant? Ye could do worse out here for a future husband, ye know."
"I know, mum. I know."
1775
"Dinner was wonderful this evening, Kathleen."
"Thank ye, Mr. Stevens. I'm happy ye enjoyed it."
The pair were seated on the newly added front porch of the McGlashan homestead, enjoying the evening. Inside the cabin could be heard the sounds of the teenager's family cleaning up from the meal, settling in for an evening before the fire. Tonight, Rachel had made sure that their visitor was aware of her daughter's contribution to the meal.
Stevens' weekly visits were a regular occurrence, as were the after dinner discussions between the couple. More and more as time progressed, they were gently pushed together by Kathleen's parents. Neither of them were ignorant of the reasons.
The man inhaled deeply of the night air and looked at his companion. She's a beautiful lass. Young and healthy. And her parent's are willin'. Coming to a decision, he leaned forward in his chair and took the teenager's hand.
Kathleen eyed him carefully. There'd been many a time that they'd held hands, but his blue eyes seemed more... intense than usual.
"Kathleen," he began, "I would like to ask yer father fer yer hand in marriage." When there was no immediate response, Stevens continued. "It seems the right thing to do. Neither of us have many other options out here. And I'm not gettin' any younger. I can't promise you that it'll be an easy life, but it can be a rewardin' one."
The blonde swallowed, her heart in her throat. Well, it's finally come. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her brow furrowed in thought.
Stevens squeezed her hand tenderly. "I'll not expect an answer this trip, Kathleen. I know it's an important decision fer ye. I don't want ye to feel pressured inta somethin' ye don't want."
"Thank ye, Mr. Stevens," the teenager murmured in a low voice.
Releasing her hand, he brought his fingers up to her chin and raised her head to look at him. He'd never touched her in this manner before and her blue eyes were wide as she peered into his own.
"Please, Kathleen. My name is Adam."
There was a long pause. Slowly, the girl nodded. "Aye, then. Adam."
Stevens' smile widened and he rose to his feet. "'Tis time fer me ta be headin' home. Ye'll confer my thanks ta yer family?" He settled his wide brimmed hat on his head.
"Certainly... Adam," Kathleen responded, blushing at the use of his first name. She stood as well, and stepped off the porch with him towards his horse. Once there, she was astonished to find him kissing the back of her knuckles.
"'Til next week then, my Kathleen." And then he was on his horse. With a tip of his hat, he grinned at her before wheeling the horse around and trotting away.
Kathleen crossed her arms in front of her and watched him go.
It had been a long week of soul searching for the teenager. She tossed out feed for the chickens with only half a mind. The voices of others filled her head with praise, making it hard to think, to decide.
Her mum. "He'd be a wonderful husband, Kathleen. A good provider and father."
Her da. "Ye know, Rach, that Stevens is a right smart feller. He's figured a way of rotatin' the crops that puts out a higher yield all 'round!"
Even bratty Stewart. "Da! Mr. Stevens wants to use Caleb as a stud fer his cows! Says he's the biggest bull this side of the big lakes!"
"I wish ye'd all just shut up!" she mumbled in exasperation.
"I've not said anythin'," was the argued response.
Kathleen turned to see her little brother watching her curiously. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I was talkin' ta myself, Stew." She returned to her chore, clucking at the hens and hoping her sibling would drop it and leave.
But such was not the case. The youth set the empty pails down and moved to sit on a nearby stump. "What's up, Kath? Ye've been actin' daft all week."
"It's none of yer concern."
Stewart shook his head. "Yer my sister, Kath. 'Tis my concern. Ye've been this way since Mr. Stevens' last visit." He brushed the hair from his eyes as he studied her. "Did he hurt you somehow? Take advantage?"
The older sibling heard the muted anger in his voice and stopped to stare at him in surprise. What's this? "No," she said. "No, he didn't." The look of caring on Stewart's face was so alien to her, she began wondering if he'd become a changeling. Unable to help herself, Kathleen asked, "And what if he did, Stew?"
The blond brow, so like hers, furrowed. "Then I'd have ta get da's musket and set Mr. Stevens straight." He sat up a little straighter and puffed out his chest in manly resolve.
Kathleen tilted her head as she studied this strange youth. She stopped feeding the chickens entirely and stepped closer. "Why?" she whispered, trying to comprehend.
"Why?" Stewart asked, confused. "Because yer my sis, that's why! He might be the only man out here fer miles, but that doesn't mean he can have sport with ye." He shrug
ged. "I mean, I like him and all, but I'd still defend yer honor."
A small smile crossed the girl's face. "Even if he'd make me a good husband? A wonderful provider and father?"
"Aye. Even then. If ye'd none of him, than none of him ye'll have, if I have any say over it." Stewart scooted to one side, his sister sitting on the stump beside him.
"But, he's smart and friendly and kind and generous," Kathleen added, bringing up all the things she'd been told by their parents.
"And so's Caleb," the youth responded sarcastically. "But that's neither here nor there." He peered closely at his sister, placing a hand on her knee. "What's wrong, Kath?"
Kathleen debated with herself, chewing on her lip and staring at the chickens scratching at the ground without seeing them. "Mr. Stevens... Adam has asked me ta marry him."
Blue eyes blinked at her. "Have ye made a decision?"
Shaking her head, she said, "No. I haven't. But he'll be expectin' an answer tonight after dinner."
"Well, da always says two heads are better 'n one. Maybe I can help ye?"
The blonde snorted a bit. "I don't think so, Stew. 'Tis not like I'm tryin' to find different solutions to a problem. A simple yes or no will do him fine."
"Aye, Kath, but yer obviously unsure. Maybe talkin' it over with me'll help set things straight in yer mind." He looked at her with an open face, nodding gently.
P'rhaps he's right. What can it hurt? Ye need to give Mr. Ste... Adam an answer. She finally nodded and her sibling sighed in relief. "All right then. What do ye wanna know?"
Stewart pursed his lips in thought and scratched idly at his neck. "Do ye love him?"
Another snort and Kathleen shook her head. "I don't know, Stew. I don't think so. I like him well enough and all, but I don't think I love him."
"Well, then. Does he love ye?"
The blonde's wry grin quirked her lips. "I'm sure enough of that to say no. Adam feels the same way I do, I b'lieve."
Stewart frowned. "Maybe we're goin' 'bout this the wrong way." He picked up a twig from the ground and began peeling the bark from it. "Kath, what do ye want ta do with yer life?"
Tiopa Ki Lakota Page 5
