"I've never given it much thought," the elder sibling said with a shrug. "I've always known I'd find a man, get married, have babies. I've always wanted ta have lots of babies." Her blue eyes grew distant, searching her memories and dreams. "'Tis funny, ye know? I can remember dreaming of havin' lots of children and raisin' them up in my own home. But, fer the life of me, I can't remember of ever thinkin' of a husband ta share my life with."
"Well, ye can't have one without t'other," Stewart smirked.
"Hush!" the blonde said with a smile, bumping her shoulder against his.
"So, ye like him. And he likes ye. But havin' a husband 'tisn't all that important ta ye," the youth summed up.
"Aye, that about covers it."
Stewart nodded in contemplation. "Then I'd say yer best option would be ta marry him. At least there's a basis for friendship - 'tisn't like ye hate each other. And then ye can have all those babies ye've wanted."
"'Tis true," the girl agreed, though deep in her heart she felt the wrongness of the decision. But, logically speakin' 'tis the truth all 'round. Somehow Kathleen knew, however, that this was not the path her life would take. She could feel it to her bones. And until my life goes another way? Sit here at my parents' home? Become an old maid?
Kathleen turned to look at her little brother. She covered her face with a smile and patted his hand. "Thank ye, Stewart. Ye've been a big help this day."
"Ye can always talk ta me, Kath," he promised. "We've had our differences in the past, but I've grown up some. Things are different from when we were children."
The fact that he was still a child caused a glimmer of laughter inside and Kathleen stifled it admirably. "Aye, Stew. Yer right. Things are different." She rose to her feet and scooped up the pail of chicken feed. "Ye'd best be fer gettin' the water fer mum. She'll not wait much longer."
Seeing that the conversation was over, the boy stood and did as he was bade. "That's the fair truth of it," he mumbled. He trudged away towards the creek, empty pails barking his shins.
Kathleen watched him go, her heart filled with love for the brat.
The wedding was the perfect excuse for a party. While McGlashan continued working the crops, Stewart was allowed to take their mule around the outlying area and issue invites to the other homesteads. It took him nearly three nights on the road and he returned happy with several responses to attend.
After the youth's return, Stevens rode off to the nearest township to make arrangements with the magistrate who would be officiating over the wedding. The journey was six days in either direction, so the McGlashan clan proceeded to juggle the working of both their own land and their neighbor-cum-son-in-law's.
And in Kathleen's home, preparations began in earnest.
"Oh, mum!" the teenager sighed in exasperation. "I've tried this dress on a hundred times now!" She stood on a stool near the fireplace as her mother fussed around the hem of a green gingham outfit.
Rachel tugged on the hem to readjust the waistline, studying her daughter's clothing with a practiced eye. "Aye, and ye'll be tryin' it on a hundred more 'til we get it right," she insisted, mumbling through the pins in her mouth. "Now, stand still, lass! Or ye'll be lopsided at your wedding!"
Glowering at the ceiling, Kathleen mumbled, "Aye, mum."
The older woman continued to pin up the hem of the dress, humming away. When she was finished, she stepped back to observe her handiwork before finally giving the girl permission to step down and helped her out of it. "I've heard from the Heinrich's that they'll be here with bells on the day b'fore," she gossipped, gathering the gingham in hand and rustling over to her chair by the fireplace.
Kathleen pulled another dress over her shift. "Why the day b'fore?"
"Ta help with the preparations. Mrs. Heinrich makes a fine potato cake, if ye recall." Rachel settled down, the dress in her lap, and strung a needle with thread. "She and her children will come and Mr. Heinrich'll stay b'hind until the next day." Adjusting the cloth, she stopped to wipe a strand of greying blonde hair from her eyes. "I think we'll set them up in the barn. I'll have Stewart muck it out the day b'fore."
The teenager finished dressing and moved to the table where the fixings for an apple pie were set out. As she began paring the apples, she asked, "How many will be attending?"
Rachel rocked gently in her chair. "Oh, looks ta be 'bout a dozen, no more. The Heinrichs, that new couple down south of here, and the Anders. 'Twill be an excitin' day fer ye, Kathleen! Ye'll look so pretty in yer wedding dress." She beamed over at her daughter.
"Aye," the blonde girl responded dutifully, not feeling all that excited at the prospect of becoming Mrs. Adam Stevens. More like.... dread. She continued peeling the apples, her mother's humming not soothing as it once had been.
By all the regular ways of reckoning, the wedding was a grand success. The homestead was packed to the rafters with well-wishers. Women and girls clustered around inside the cabin, fixing their best dishes for the festivities. The men and boys milled about outside, smoking pipes, looking over McGlashan's farmstead and with Stewart constantly pressuring people to come look at Caleb the bull in the south field.
At a little past midday, Stevens arrived with the magistrate in tow. While the pompous little official puffed about the small clearing designated as the wedding site, the men drug the groom off to the stables. Once there, he was given a shot of homemade liquor that made his pale eyes water and was gussied up for the ceremony. Meanwhile, the women fawned over the bride, pinching her cheeks, helping her into her dress, discussing the attributes of the new husband-to-be and generally making Kathleen all the more nervous for their efforts.
And then it was time. Stewart, dressed in his finest, burst into the cabin. "Are ye ready then?" he asked, raising his voice to get over the clamor of the women.
"Yes!" Rachel called from behind the crowd.
The women separated from behind, finally opening to reveal Kathleen. The green gingham dress was long and full, a high waist accentuating the bosom. Long sleeves puffed out on the upper arms, closing in to fit tightly around the forearms and wrists. Handmade lace had been attached to the cuffs and low collar and additional material had been used as a belt, a bow tied in the back. Her blonde hair had been put high on her head, with ringlets and spit curls spilling down here and there.
"Kath! Ye look..." Stewart blinked. "Ye look incredible, lass."
Kathleen blushed a little, not used to compliments from her bratty sibling. "Aye. Thank ye, Stew."
The youth stepped forward, his eyes still shining with some unknown emotion. "If ye weren't my sis, I'd marry ye myself."
The teenager drew herself up at the giggles from the women around her. She glared down at her brother in sisterly exasperation. "Like I'd have ye, ye brat."
"Kathleen Sarah McGlashan!" her mother said into the shocked room.
Stewart blinked again, coming to his senses. And then a grin split his face and he punched Kathleen on the upper arm. "Aye. I'm a brat. But it beats bein' a lily livered canary whistlin' on the pipes all day."
Rachel sounded even more distressed as she gasped, "Stewart Franklin!"
The siblings ignored her and swept each other up into an embrace.
"Ye look fantastic, Kath," the youth whispered.
"Thank ye, Stew," she whispered back.
Outside, the sounds of Mr. Heinrich's accordion filtered through the still open door.
"There 'tis then," a woman nearby piped up. "Time to get a move on, younglings."
Kathleen released her brother and gulped down the sudden overwhelming fear that threatened to crowd out all thought. Stewart pecked her once on the cheek and ran back out the door, preparing to take his place as Stevens' best man. The women around her filtered out to take their places with their husbands and parents with the exception of Mrs. Anders and her young daughter. These were to be Kathleen's matron of honor and flower girl.
Rachel gave her daughter a quick, reassuring hug and a kiss. "Ye'll do fine, la
ss," she whispered. "Ye look so beautiful!" Blue eyes already glistening with unshed tears, she hugged the teenager fiercely to herself once more. And then she was out the door to take her place with the rest of the wedding party.
Mrs. Anders looked to the young bride. "Kathleen...?"
The teenager fought down her rising bile and forced a smile to her face. "Time to get married."
The ceremony went off without a hitch, her mother and half the other women crying in response. The groom looked resplendent in his best suit, his brown hair pulled back and tied with a bow and the buckles on his Sunday shoes shining brilliantly. When he'd seen his bride for the first time in her splendor, his eyes glinted with unshed tears of happiness.
After the wedding, everyone gathered for a feast and fest. The clearing in front of the cabin was utilized as a dance floor as McGlashan and the Heinrich's boy pulled out fiddles and were joined by Mr. Heinrich's accordian. While there were more women than men at the function, that didn't stop anyone from merrily dancing away. Having little experience with dancing, Kathleen felt a bit odd. Whenever she and her brother danced, she usually led. It was difficult to give way to her new husband.
As the afternoon got on, gifts were unwrapped - a quilt from her mother, a matching set of braided leather bracelets from her brother, an ivory pipe that had belonged to her grandfather and was given to Stevens. The guests had also brought various and sundry gifts to help the new couple start their home, despite the fact Stevens' home was already well stocked after years of use.
Afterwards, the newlyweds said their farewells. The guests loaded their gifts and Kathleen's personal belongings onto a cart and Stevens helped his young wife up. As they drove away, the sounds of the merriment continuing behind them, Kathleen realized she'd never even seen her husband's home before. Nothin' like divin' in with both feet, eh?
Three miles passed and the sky was beginning to darken. The cart arrived at a tidy little homestead. Stevens began speaking of where the well was located, where the fields were, what he hoped to plant next spring. Kathleen listened with half an ear, peering at the small cabin as he pulled up in front.
"Here, Kathleen," Stevens said, wrapping the reins around the brake and hopping down. "Let me help ye inta the house. I'll unload the goods onta the porch and put up the cart after." He came around and reached up to her.
Swallowing, a flutter of nerves whirling through her stomach for a moment, the teenager rose and let her husband sweep her down to the ground. He placed her arm through his crooked elbow and guided her up the steps.
"'Tis just a small home, sweetling. But, 'twill easily be added on when the babes come." Stevens pushed the door open and paused, peering down at her with a soft smile. For the second time, the first being the wedding ceremony, he kissed his bride gently. "Welcome home, Kathleen."
"Thank ye, Adam," the teenager murmured, casting her eyes down and blushing. And then she clutched at him and let out a tiny shriek as he scooped her up into strong arms.
"I've got ta carry ye over the threshold, sweetling," he laughed, doing just that. Once inside, he set her down, holding her up as she gained her balance once again. "Here. Let me light a lantern fer ye."
The dark interior brightened as the lamp was lit. Stevens settled the glass over the flame and stepped back, surveying his home. With a rueful grin, he glanced at her. "'Tisn't much at the moment, sweetling. This ol' place hasn't seen a woman's touch in far too long."
Despite her nerves, Kathleen curiously glanced around the single room. A fireplace was on the opposite wall, cold and dark. To her left were a row of cupboards from wall to wall standing waist high. The resulting counterspace was covered with a fine layer of dust, a small collection of books and the usual clutter of a home. In the far right corner was a large wooden framed bed, neatly made up. The teenager swallowed anxiously and avoided looking at it.
Stevens stepped forward and gave his wife a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll be back soon, sweetling." And then he strode out of the room.
The sounds of items being set onto the wooden porch filtered through and the teenager continued her perusal. She removed her shawl and noticed pegs hanging from the wall beside the door. Hanging it there, she settled her hands on her hips.
The table wasn't filthy... exactly. She considered the state of her brother's belongings and snorted. Aye, Adam's a bit neater and that's a fact. There were two benches on either side of the table and a chair at one end. The lantern glowed from the center, illuminating the small cabin.
Kathleen moved around the room, clucking at the film of grime that seemed to invade every nook and cranny. The mantel above the fireplace held a small silver frame. It was the only thing that wasn't layered with dust. She picked it up to peer at it closely. The picture inside was a tiny painting of a woman with dark hair and somber grey eyes.
"My first wife, Amanda," Stevens said softly.
Startled, the blonde jumped and nearly dropped the artwork. Her husband reached around her and smoothly caught it before it could fall to the floor. With a blush, she turned and began apologizing. "I'm sorry, Adam."
"Don't be, love," the man said. His blue eyes held a measure of tender sadness. He settled the frame back on the mantel. Almost absently, his other arm wrapped around her and he held her close. "What's past is past and I'll not discuss it this night." Stevens grinned down at her. "'Tis our wedding night." And he ducked down for a kiss.
The butterflies in her stomach raged as they fluttered about.
When all was said and done, it wasn't near as bad as she'd been making it out to be. But, as Kathleen lay on her side, staring at the wall of the tiny cabin, she cried in silence. She missed her mum and da and even bratty Stewart. She missed her home.
Behind her, sprawled on his back, Stevens slept. He snored gently, blissfully ignorant of his new young wife's distress.
It had hurt, at first. Her mother had told her it would. And Kathleen knew she'd be sore for the next day. Yet, it had become an interesting sensation. But, did it have ta take so long? she wondered, wiping tears away. She wondered how often she would have to submit to her husband, how often he'd want her in that way. 'Twill be worth it in time. We'll have lots of wee babes roamin' 'round.
Kathleen thought of her own bed in her parents' cabin, thought of hearing her brother as he talked in his sleep, thought of waking up to hear her mother preparing breakfast and her da groaning about getting old before his time. Another spate of tears reached her and she clutched the quilt her mum had made to her chest.
1777
Kathleen tightly twisted the cloth in her hands, holding it over the tub of water. When she'd satisfactorily removed most of the excess, she tossed the damp item into a nearby basket. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. Birds were chittering to each other in the stand of pine trees nearby, the only sound that could easily be heard. If the young woman concentrated, she could hear her husband in the fields behind the cabin, cussing at the horse he worked.
Today was laundry day, an all day affair. Before her were two large wooden tubs, one of them sitting on a table. There were also two buckets nearby that she'd been using to transfer water from the well. The table tub held the soapy water she'd been using to clean their clothes and now she was rinsing the final load in the second tub, stirring them with a large stick before pulling each piece out to wring dry.
And that's the last of it, she thought with a happy sigh. Using her apron, she dried off her hands and used a corner of it to wipe the sweat from her forehead. At this rate, I might be able ta take a bath b'fore dinner. Kathleen picked up the heavy basket of wet clothing and brought it to the ropes she'd had her husband string up between the cabin and the trees two years ago. Most of their clothes already hung there, flapping in the light breeze, and she prepared to add more to their company.
It had been a good marriage to date. While she didn't exactly love Stevens, she had grown rather fond of him. He was always so gentle and kind, trying his best to not show his disappointment
as yet another month went by and still no children. Kathleen couldn't understand what the problem was. Their intimacy was a regular thing - twice a week, except during her monthly time. As time went on, their lack of offspring had begun worrying them both.
"If God deems it, Kath, ye'll be blessed," her mother's voice whispered in her head. Though, having children denied her because God deemed it so wasn't a comforting thought.
Kathleen shook off her somber thoughts. Adam doesn't want ye sad, lass. Finish the chore, take a bath and get his dinner ta table. Instead, she focused on happy times.
The previous Sabbath was spent at her parents' home. Stewart hadn't been there, having gone down the way a piece to have dinner with the Anders' and their sweet eldest daughter. So, the two couples enjoyed a quiet evening of conversation and food. The only fly in the ointment had been the talk of the local natives in an uproar.
"Apparently, a fellah down south of here cheated one of them when he traded," McGlashan said, puffing on his pipe on the front porch.
Stevens nodded sagely. "Anyone we know?"
"No. Unless ye know a man named Silas...?" At his son-in-law's head shake he shrugged. "Well, anyways, ta make a long story short, the indian tweren't happy with the situation and killed him."
"That's murder!" Kathleen spoke up, her blue eyes wide.
"Aye, 'tis, lass. As his brothers thought, as well. So, they went out a'huntin' and caught a few of this indian's friends. From there things just escalated."
Frowning, Stevens finished sipping his coffee. "Do ye think we'll have any trouble up here?" he asked.
"No, I doubt it. Seems the savages are stickin' to their neck o' the woods. Haven't heard of them comin' any further north."
Kathleen scowled at herself as she hung one of her husband's shirts. "Nothin' like cheery thoughts, lass," she complained. Pushing the conversation from her mind, she hummed to herself as she hung the laundry to dry.
Tiopa Ki Lakota Page 6
