Meadowlark

by Carolyn Lampman

  Garrick followed the road to a small aspen grove, then turned down a faint track that was hardly more than a trail. They bounced along through the trees until they came to a small cabin.

  Garrick’s heart sank. With all his other preparations he hadn’t had time to come out and examine his purchase. It looked as if it had been abandoned. The front door was open, hanging by a single leather hinge. There was a hole where the window should have been, offering a glimpse of the dismal interior.

  He hadn’t expected it to be perfect, but it appeared much worse than he’d imagined. “Wait here,” he said as he tied the reins to the brake lever and jumped down. At the doorway, he stopped and stared at the mess in dismay. The floor was covered with dirt and debris, and light showed through numerous holes where the chinking had fallen out of the walls. A bunk sagged against the wall, and a rickety table stood in one corner next to the fireplace.

  “Is something wrong?” Becky asked, joining him in the doorway. “Oh, my.”

  “The miner I bought it from said it was in good shape. I’d hate to see something that he thought needed some work.”

  “It has four more-or-less solid walls and a roof. To most miners this is a palace.”

  “Maybe, but it’s no place for a woman.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Becky stepped over the threshold and looked around. “I’ve lived in a lot worse. Other than a little dirt, it’s not bad.”

  “It could use a few repairs.”

  “I suppose.” She moved across the room to a large wooden box by the fireplace. “I wonder what’s in here. Oh, look, pots and pans!”

  Garrick watched her for a moment as she dug out a battered collection of blackened cooking utensils. Her delight was obvious. With a shake of his head, he went back to the buckboard. Any other woman he knew would have been in tears.

  By the time Becky had dug clear to the bottom of the wooden box and rearranged it to her satisfaction, Garrick had replaced the missing leather hinge on the door. She watched as he turned his attention to the bunk.

  Apparently, he was a man of action and few words. Beyond his observation about the cabin’s state of disrepair, he had said nothing. Instead, he’d gone out to the buckboard, retrieved a hammer from his things and gone to work.

  By now, Becky’s father would have somehow decided it was all her fault and wouldn’t have hesitated to take out his frustration on her. Swede hardly seemed concerned by the inconvenience. Even now, trying to support the sagging bed frame with his shoulder as he worked on the leg, his face was calm, his temper apparently unruffled.

  “W-would you like some help?” Becky asked timidly. “I could hold that up for you.”

  Garrick glanced up in surprise. “All right,” he said after a moment as he shifted the side rail off his shoulder. “Hold it right here.”

  Obediently, Becky knelt by the bed and put her hands under the board. With a barely perceptible nod of approval, he went back to work. As the light reflecting off her wedding ring caught her eye, Becky suddenly realized this was the bed she would have to share with him. Though it was certainly big enough for two people, it would be crowded when one of them was the size of her new husband.

  “Did you find anything interesting?” his voice broke into her thoughts.

  “What?”

  “In the box. Were there any surprises?”

  “Not really, though there were a few things I didn’t recognize. I think they might be for setting pans on in the fireplace, but I’m not sure. I’ve never cooked in a fireplace before.”

  “I’m sorry there isn’t a stove.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t ever cooked on one of those either. We never had anything but a campfire.”

  As he glanced over his shoulder at her in surprise, she hastened to add, “But I’m sure it won’t be that difficult to learn to use the fireplace.” Looking away from his gaze, Becky mentally cursed her unruly tongue. He probably thought she’d starve him to death before she learned the proper way of it.

  When he said nothing, Becky wondered uncomfortably if he was already regretting the generous impulse that had led to their marriage. Stiffening her spine, she vowed he would never have cause to look back on this day and be sorry he’d tied himself to her.

  “That should do it,” Garrick said a few minutes later as he finished reinforcing the board she was holding. He stood and looked around as he reached down to give her a hand up. “It may be a while before this place is livable.”

  Putting her hand in his, Becky smiled up at him shyly as she climbed to her feet. “I don’t know, I think it’s...oh...”

  Becky forgot what she was saying as her ears started ringing, and Swede’s face swam in front of her eyes. Unable to focus, she felt her body sway before she pitched forward into darkness.

  Chapter 4

  “Rebecca? Can you hear me? Rebecca, open your eyes!”

  Becky heard the vaguely familiar voice through the rushing noise in her ears, but she couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Her mind felt stiff and awkward, almost as though it were stuffed with cotton. Gradually, though, her senses began to clear, and she opened her eyes. “Becky,” she said as Swede’s face came into sharp focus.

  “What?”

  “Nobody calls me Rebecca anymore.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Becky suddenly realized she was lying half on his lap, her upper body supported by his arms as he watched her with concern.

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted.”

  “I did?” She struggled to sit up as hot embarrassment stained her face. “How silly of me. I must have stood up too fast.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t know. Yesterday maybe.”

  “When?” he asked again, his voice firm.

  Becky hung her head. “Three days ago.”

  “Good Lord, why didn’t you say something?”

  “I d-didn’t want to bother you.”

  “Don’t you think it bothered me to have you faint in my arms?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d faint,” she said in a small voice. “I ran out of money, and there wasn’t anything else to sell except...myself.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “I was trying to get the courage to ask for a job in Beer Garden Gulch when I fell into the creek.”

  Garrick’s chest tightened. He felt stupid for not realizing the truth when she told him drowning was a kinder death than starving. “Why didn’t you eat at Angel’s this morning?”

  “Nobody was even awake until just before you got there this afternoon.”

  “Stop looking so guilty. It’s more my fault than yours.” He sighed, then gave her a slight smile. “I’m kind of hungry. What do you say we go back to town and have supper?”

  “Shouldn’t we do a little more work here first?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head decisively. “It’s our wedding day, and we should be celebrating.”

  “I-I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Neither had I until just now.” He stood and scooped her up in his arms. “It’s good luck for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold. I suppose it works just as well going out as in,” he said as he ducked through the doorway.

  Becky had the irrational desire to lay her head on his shoulder as he carried her to the buckboard and deposited her on the seat. The big Swede had shown more kindness in the few hours they’d been acquainted than her father had in the all the years she’d lived with him. For the first time in a very long time, she began to feel safe.

  They went to the Sherlock Hotel for supper. Garrick ordered a huge meal, and Becky tried not to wolf it down. She didn’t think any food had ever tasted quite so wonderful. Fighting the urge to eat like a pig, she went slowly and was careful to stop before she made herself sick.

  Garrick studied her across the table. Gone was the slightly pathetic waif he’d pulled from the creek. The huge brown eyes, thick dark hair, and pert little nose were still the s
ame, but, somehow, she’d been transformed into a lovely woman. Becky didn’t have the classically pretty features that inspired poets and artists; hers was the sort of earthy beauty that made a man’s blood run hot in his veins and his breath catch in his throat. That she seemed innocently unaware of her allure only added to her appeal.

  He wondered about the man who had tasted her charms. Had he loved her, whispering sweet promises he couldn’t keep? Or had he been drawn by her beauty, seduced her uncaringly, and then walked away?

  Satisfied at last, she looked up from her meal and caught him staring at her. Blushing slightly, she smiled. “A penny for your thoughts.”

  Figuring she wouldn’t appreciate observations about her appeal or questions about the baby’s father, he racked his brain for an acceptable topic. “Why doesn’t anyone call you Rebecca anymore?”

  “My grandmother was about the only one who ever did. It was her name, you see. After she died, my mother would call me Rebecca Anne when she was mad at me, but the rest of the time I was Becky.”

  He smiled. “Rebecca Anne, I like that. My father called my mother Anna occasionally. It was his nickname for Alaina.”

  “Alaina? That doesn’t sound much like a Swedish name.”

  “She’s Irish.”

  Becky looked surprised. “You must resemble your father then. No one would think you were anything but pure Swedish.”

  “I do, but he isn’t Swedish either.”

  “He isn’t?”

  “Nope, not a drop of Swedish blood in him.” Garrick grinned. “My family is Norwegian.”

  “What? Then why do they call you Swede?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess all Scandinavians look and sound pretty much the same to the rest of the world. The crew boss called me Swede when I worked on the railroad. I never corrected him, and it just sort of followed me to South Pass.”

  “Well, I think it’s ridiculous. I’m going to call you by your given name and that’s that.” She gave her head a decisive nod to emphasize her point. After a moment, she looked at him. “It is Garrick, isn’t it?”

  He laughed, the deep, rich sound turning heads and bringing smiles to the faces of the other diners. “Ja, my name is Garrick, though nobody has called me that for so long I may not answer to it. How did you know it anyway?”

  “The same way you found out mine was Rebecca. Mrs. Morris called you that at the wedding.”

  They smiled at each other, both suddenly much happier about the bargain they’d made.

  “Are you finished?” Garrick asked, nodding toward her plate.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  “Good. What would you like to do now?”

  “We could go back to the cabin,” she said uncertainly.

  Garrick smiled. “We could, but I have a better idea. There’s a troupe of actors in town putting on a play at the Variety Theater. Would you like to go?”

  “Oh, could we? I’ve never been to a real play before.”

  “And I’ve never been to one in South Pass City.”

  Becky’s delight at the promised treat was like a warm glow inside Garrick as he paid for their dinner and took a room at the hotel for the night. Noting Becky’s wistful look when the clerk mentioned the bath down the hall, Garrick paid the extra four bits for her to use it.

  He knew his poker winnings wouldn’t last long if he continued to spend so recklessly, but Becky’s look of pleased surprise was worth every penny. After escorting his new wife to the room, he left her to take her bath in private and took his belongings back out to the cabin. As he drove down the rutted trail, it occurred to him that his bone-deep loneliness of the night before was gone.

  Becky luxuriated in the first hot bath she’d had in years. Though she knew her time was limited, she couldn’t resist the self-indulgence of washing her hair with the fresh-smelling soap. She didn’t even care that it would still be wet hours later. Trying not to wish she had clean clothing to put on, she dressed and was ready to go by the time Garrick returned.

  Justin T. Franklin and his world-renowned acting troupe were far from the best that had ever graced the boards of South Pass’s theater, but Becky was enchanted. It didn’t matter that the leading lady had a tendency to forget her lines and the villain had a suspiciously unsteady gait. The play held her spellbound, and she was sorry when the final curtain fell.

  She chattered happily all the way back to the hotel, reliving the entire performance in minute detail. Adjusting his stride so she didn’t have to run to keep up, Garrick listened with half an ear. He was pleased with her obvious delight, but his mind had already turned to the night ahead. Though they’d exchanged vows, and he’d given her his ring, he was pretty sure they weren’t really married.

  Right now, she seemed reconciled to their situation, but after her baby was born she might feel differently. Becky was young and bound to fall in love someday. When she did, she’d want her freedom. Even if the marriage was legal, they could get it annulled easily enough if they never consummated their union. The important thing now was for her to feel safe and secure by thinking their marriage was real.

  Garrick needed to come up with a plausible reason for not sleeping with her. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Many women were intimidated by the size of him, and he could tell his new wife was one of them. He’d seen the fear in her eyes. Listening to her talk, he wondered if nervousness might have something to do with her nonstop conversation. By the time they reached the hotel, he was sure of it.

  “...and I hope we’re done with snow for the year,” Becky was saying. “Of course, that’s the problem with living in the mountains like this. Spring comes so late that—”

  “Becky, I would never hurt you.”

  She glanced at his face in shock. “Wh-what?”

  “I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  “I-I’m sorry if it seems that way.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m just very tired.” When she realized what she’d said, her face turned a dull red.

  “We don’t have to make it a real marriage tonight,” he said gently.

  “I-I don’t mind.”

  “This time yesterday we didn’t even know each other, and we’re still practically strangers. We both need time to adjust.”

  She looked up at him questioningly and was surprised to find gentle understanding in his eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “That hardly seems fair. You paid for the room.”

  Garrick smiled as they climbed the stairs. “Sleeping on the floor won’t bother me. I’m used to the ground.”

  “So am I.”

  “Then you’ll enjoy a nice soft bed.”

  “I slept in one last night while you sat on a chair.”

  “Most beds are too short for me anyway.” Garrick opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter.

  She looked at the tiny room doubtfully. An iron bedstead was pushed up against one wall, while a chest of drawers with a mirror and a washstand took up most of the other. She’d forgotten how small the room was. The distance between them was barely big enough to walk in. “There isn’t enough room for you down there. We’ll have to share the bed.”

  For a moment, he was tempted, then cool reason returned, and he shook his head ruefully. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then I’ll take the floor.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll sleep in the bed, and that’s final.”

  “And where are you going to sleep, under the bed?” After a moment she sighed. “I just don’t see that we have much choice. Either I sleep on the floor, or we share the bed.”

  He looked from the floor to the bed and back again. She was right. There was no way he’d fit in that small space. “All right, have it your way then. I’ll be back in about half an hour or so.”

  Without another word, he turned on his heel and left.

  It took Garric
k somewhat longer than he’d expected to discover his supply of black powder had arrived and to have it delivered to the mine. When he tracked down Ox Bruford, the freighter was already involved in a poker game and not interested in leaving. Though Garrick finally managed to get the mule skinner to cooperate, Ox complained good-naturedly all the way out to the mine about friends who took unfair advantage.

  By the time they had unloaded the kegs of powder and Garrick had made his way back to the Sherlock, Becky was sound asleep. He stood looking down at her for a few minutes before blowing out the lantern and stripping down to his long underwear.

  As quietly as possible, Garrick crawled into bed and settled down to sleep. The bed was too short, and the soft warm body next to him far too enticing. Still, with his lack of sleep from the night before, it wasn’t long before he started to relax.

  Just as he was beginning to drift off, he heard a soft noise from the other side of the bed. Turning his head toward the sound, he listened intently until it came again. With a grin, he settled back down and closed his eyes. There was something strangely endearing about a woman who snored.

  Chapter 5

  “Garrick?” Becky sat up in bed and looked around the room. He was gone. Except for a dent in the pillow next to her, he might never have been there. Thinking he’d probably gone outside to the privy, she scrambled out of bed and dressed hurriedly.

  Half an hour later she was pacing the limited floor space of the tiny room in agitation. Where was he? Time passed, and still he didn’t come. At last, Becky could stand the waiting no longer.

  Downstairs, the desk clerk greeted her with a smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Swenson. Your husband left you a note.”

  She was startled to hear herself addressed as Mrs. Swenson. “Oh? When did he leave?”

  The clerk shrugged. “In time for the day shift.”

  “I see. Thank you.” Feeling rather silly, Becky took the note and walked over to the window. Of course he’d have gone to work. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  The strong, heavy lines on the paper reminded her of him. Though she was not a very accomplished reader, she was able to figure out most of his message. He’d left her money in...something...and wanted her to buy...bread? What in the world?