Aiming for Love

by Mary Connealy

  “The roof looks solid.” Ursula studied over her head, her voice quiet with wonder.

  “Who built this?” Jo’s mind ran all around trying to understand.

  “Has someone lived up here all this time?” Ursula’s smile faded. “You said Mitch came from this direction. Has he talked about the trail that brought him up?”

  “He said there was no trail, no way to bring a horse,” Ilsa said as she crouched by the cold fireplace.

  “Grandpa never wanted us to come up that trail where we brought Dave’s cows. I’ve been thinking it was because he had that cabin in there, but could he have known people lived on past his cabin?” Jo saw scattered piles of sticks against the wall, maybe dragged in by creatures to build nests, though there were no animals to be seen.

  Jo began gathering an armload of sticks, then took them to the fireplace. She leaned in and confirmed she could see the sky through the tight hole at the top.

  Once she started, Ilsa and Ursula realized building a fire was a fine idea and pitched in to help.

  Jo used her flint and bag of crushed leaves that she always carried and soon had a fire crackling. They quickly had the rabbits skinned and roasting with sticks propped at an angle to use as spits.

  Together the work was fast, and the scent of the cooking meat and burning fire sent a savory smell through the room. It reminded Jo she hadn’t eaten yet today, and she’d gone on a long run home and another long run back here.

  Ursula sang her song of prayer. “The Doxology,” Ma had called it.

  Then they feasted on the meal in contented silence.

  As they ate, Jo was reminded how much she loved her sisters. They’d been at each other’s throats since the Wardens came. But these two women were the people she trusted and loved most in the world. By welcoming outsiders, she’d driven Ursula away from her.

  Ursula, who had always mothered them, who’d been the backbone and the heart of their family. Jo and Ilsa liked it best outside, and they wandered far and wide, day and night. But they always knew there would be a warm home with a hot meal and clean bed to sleep in.

  Jo had taken advantage of Ursula’s care of them for years. And she’d rarely said thank you.

  Now she did. “Ursula, I love you. And Ilsa, I love you, too. The three of us working together made this meal, just as we’ve always survived by depending on each other. I’ve never been as grateful as I should be for all you’ve done for me. Ursula, you most of all. You’ve worked hard all these years to keep us going. So much of the responsibility landed on you when Grandma died. Thank you for being so wise and strong. Thank you for helping us survive.”

  “You’re the one, Jo, who brings in meat. And Ilsa does most of the hunting for the roots and berries, the nuts and seeds, that help us get through the winters.”

  “And you tend the house,” Ilsa said. “You cook the food we bring in. You tend the animals, the cows and chickens. And see that the garden is planted.”

  “It’s always taken all of us.” Jo went to the fire, tossed in the rabbit bones, and listened to them sizzle, smelled the rich meat. “I’m sorry for my part in the strife between us. I don’t want us to forget we’re a family. We always have been and always will be. Having the Wardens here doesn’t change that.”

  “But what about the sickness the Wardens bring? What about the bullets and the trouble that could be following them?” Ursula turned to look at Jo, her brow furrowed, lines of worry cutting across her beautiful face.

  Even knowing how much Ursula feared outsiders, Jo wasn’t going to quit being around the Wardens. They’d added too much to her life. Dave most of all. But it struck her that Ursula felt betrayed and unwanted, and Jo couldn’t blame her.

  “Whatever lies ahead, there’s no way to be alone on this mountain, not anymore. No matter how we act, they’re not going away. We have to learn to live with them.” They’d all lived their strange, lonely lives without much thought of changing. And now things were changing so fast, and Ursula, who had always sought to care for all of them, was hurt and afraid, and instead of treating her with kindness, Jo and Ilsa had ignored her and went their own way.

  “How can we find out more about this place?” Jo shifted the topic. “Who would know what it is?”

  “It’s warm.” Ursula sat before the fire, her hands reaching out to the flames. “The walls are thick and tightly built. The roof in this part is solid. If we had a door this place would be livable.”

  Staring into the flames, she said, “You two don’t need me anymore. And I don’t want to live near strangers. I might move up here and live by myself.”

  Ilsa gasped.

  “You will not,” Jo said firmly. “Cutting yourself off isn’t the answer to your fears, Ursula.”

  Instead of speaking again of moving here, Ursula asked, “Why is there an ancient, abandoned stone building with dozens of rooms on the top of the mountain? Who built this? Where did they go?”

  Jo set her jaw tight and shook her head.

  None of them had any answers.

  24

  It’s not smallpox,” Ma whispered, but her expression spoke loudly. Her eyes begged him to agree with her.

  “You said there’d be a dent in the center of each spot, and there isn’t.” Dave reached across the bed and caught Ma’s hand as they stood on either side of Mitch, who was sleeping but still feverish. Dave drew Ma out of the room. “Just the opposite, they’re forming peaked blisters.”

  Heaving a sigh, Ma looked behind her into the room where Mitch slept restlessly.

  “He’s going to be miserable for a few more days, I reckon,” Dave said. “He keeps trying to scratch at those blisters, and his fever’s hanging on. But it will go down soon, and the rash will fade.”

  Nodding, Ma said, “And if we catch it, we’ll be miserable, but it’s not deadly.”

  Pa came to his door. It was first light, but Pa had slept well last night and seemed more like his old self. He looked between them.

  “How is he?”

  Ma rushed to his uninjured side and hugged him, willing to risk it now. “He’s going to be all right. I wouldn’t be hugging you if he wasn’t.”

  Pa slung an arm around her waist and gave her a tight one-armed hug. “Good to hear, Izzy. Mighty good to hear.”

  Ma straightened away and said, “I’m asleep on my feet.” She looked over her shoulder at Dave. “I think we can rest for a time. Quill, can you lie back down at my side? I always sleep better lying next to you.”

  “I reckon it’s early enough I can sleep another hour or two.”

  Dave watched them go. His heart caught at how much he loved them. How much he loved his brother. The family was together again, and they were going to be okay.

  The door closed to their bedroom.

  He didn’t feel right about sleeping in the room Jo and her sisters were sharing. And Mitch tended to toss and turn.

  Dave grabbed a couple of blankets and stretched out on the floor, so tired he was unsteady on his feet.

  He blinked his eyes. Closed, then opened a moment later. Or so it seemed. But they’d closed in the firelit dark and opened to full daylight. He could tell by the way the sun came through a crack around the edge of the door that it was late.

  Shoving himself to his feet, fearing the worst, he rushed to Mitch’s room and found his brother snoring softly.

  His face was covered in those ugly blisters, but he was also soaked in sweat. His fever had broken.

  Dave eased himself out of the room. Sleep was the best thing for healing. Ma came hurrying out. She must’ve heard his thundering feet.

  He smiled and touched one finger to his lips to shush her. She looked behind her, smiled, then turned to shush Dave back. Pa must’ve been sleeping, too.

  Dave jerked his head to the outside. She nodded and smiled, they went outside, coats in hand, and he hugged her tightly.

  When they were far enough from the cabin to not disturb their patients, Ma said, “They’re both going to live.�
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  “We need to tell Jo and her sisters that this isn’t a deadly disease. I’ll ride up there.”

  “But stay well back. You could come down with it, remember. But we’ll be all right.”

  “I’ll tell them that and make sure they stay away, but I want to pass on the news. Did you get enough sleep to manage on your own for a couple of hours?”

  “Yes, and knowing we can sleep well from now on . . . I hope . . . makes everything else simple.”

  Dave nodded, then gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. Alberto came out of the barn at that moment leading his horse, a pack on its back. They had twelve men up here. The men had cleared space in the barn, a structure that held no hay and no animals—until the Wardens had brought their horses over. They’d been able to open a stretch of the ceiling and vent a campfire. They were living in there with a decent amount of comfort.

  Striding over, Dave said, “Are you taking food to the Nordegrens?”

  “Yep, going over now. I’ve gone over every day, but I haven’t seen them since I left them that first day, when you sent them away.”

  “I warned them to stay back from us.”

  “They haven’t even let me get a glimpse. But there’s plenty of signs they’re around. And the food and firewood are always gone.”

  Nodding, Dave said, “I’ll go and tell them Mitch is better. He is past the fever from his sickness, and it’s not smallpox.”

  Alberto gave a small sigh of relief. He’d been with Pa for years, and remembered Mitch from before he left.

  “Pa is moving slow, but he’s up and around. We’re still at risk from catching whatever it is Mitch brought home, but it doesn’t look to be real serious. Still, best to stay away from him. We’ll try and keep him inside for another week or so. Thanks for taking up all the work Pa and I have left for you.”

  “The men have been working on your folks’ cabin.” Alberto shrugged off the thanks. He rode for the brand. If there was work, he did it. Dave had learned how a man conducted himself from his pa and from Alberto.

  “Thank you. I’ve barely stepped outside all this time.” Dave looked up at the dark, threatening sky. “There’ll be snow again today.”

  “There’s snow every day.”

  That was the pure truth. Dave managed a grin—he hadn’t done much of that while Pa and Mitch were sick. “One of these times it’ll come and bury us. We need that cabin.”

  Dave swung up on the horse, and Alberto turned back to the barn to saddle another. The rest of the men were all gone, working on the cabin, seeing to the herd, or standing sentry over the trail. Things were finally back to normal. Very soon he could turn his attention to wooing Jo Nordegren.

  All three Nordegren women woke, ate breakfast, and packed for a long day on the trail.

  Jo looked at Ursula several times, glad she’d come back. For a while, Jo was afraid she would stay at the stone building to live.

  They were going back to that high valley today to explore more, but Jo noticed Ursula wasn’t packing clothing, so maybe she didn’t plan to move up there permanently. They set out walking across the valley, then heard hoofbeats. They turned, and Jo saw a horseman riding up.

  “It’s Dave.” She took off running toward him. Over her shoulder, she called, “I have to see how Mitch and Quill are doing.”

  She didn’t look back, and instead of rounding the edges of the valley to avoid the cattle, she ran straight through the widely scattered herd. They all gave way, trotting a bit to put space between them and her.

  Dave swung down and took the pack of food to set by the door, then he added the firewood. As he raised his hand to knock, the moving cattle caught his attention, and he turned and saw her coming. He remounted and galloped toward her.

  They met in the middle. Jo wanted to throw herself into his arms. He got down again and, smiling, said, “Better stay back. I might be carrying Mitch’s sickness, but he doesn’t have the worst kind of illness. You could catch it but, if you do, you’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure we’ve all been close enough to Mitch that we’re at risk,” Jo said.

  “I hope not, but it’s possible. You should stay up here for a while.”

  “Two weeks, like Grandpa used to?”

  Nodding, Dave said, “That sounds about right. It’ll go fast. But best to be cautious. Where were you headed?”

  “Oh, Dave you’ll never believe what I found.” Jo told him all about the beautiful valley and the strange stone building. She told him about the soaring eagle and the bugling elk, the pink-tipped mountains, and the vast, grassy meadow.

  “You have no idea who built that high cabin?” he asked.

  “Cabin isn’t the right word. It’s a strange thing. Stone blocks stacked to make walls. The roof is mostly an overhang from the mountainside, but there were signs a roof had been built here and there, but those are mostly collapsed. It’s all one big . . . house, I reckon.” Shaking her head, she said, “You just have to see it. I’ve never known anyone to live up there, and the building is so old the stone is crumbling, much too old for Grandpa to have built it. Oh, and the part you’ll like, it’s in a huge valley, too, with lots of grazing. Enough to keep your cattle fat and happy all winter long.”

  His eyes took on a dreamy look, and she suspected his expression matched hers. “All that wild beauty.” Then his eyes settled on her, and the words wild beauty seemed to be meant for her.

  “Ursula wants to live up there.”

  His eyes saddened. “I’m so sorry she isn’t happy with the changes the Wardens have brought to your lives. Do you think there’s a chance she’ll get over her fears and welcome newcomers?”

  “I want to believe it. She’s calming down a little. She hasn’t thrown me out of the cabin for over a day.”

  Dave’s mouth tipped up on one side in a weak smile. “I reckon that’s a good sign. Maybe we’ll win her over.”

  Nodding, Jo said, “It’ll help if you stop being sick and don’t get shot for a while.”

  “We’ll sure do our best. And the work on our cabin is going well. We should be able to move out of your place as soon as Mitch is feeling stronger. Pa and Ma could go now, but Mitch’s fever only just broke. It’s likely to come and go for a spell, and we want him to go a few days with no fever before we risk taking him out in the cold.”

  Dave hesitated. “I’d like to ride up with you and see the high valley and that building you found, but I have to get back and help Ma. I had to tell you things were improving back at your house. Tell Ursula the Nordegren home probably saved Pa’s and Mitch’s lives. We are very thankful for the shelter and feel like God himself put you in our path in our hour of need.”

  “That’s beautiful, Dave. I appreciate it, and Ursula will, too. I’m not sure she’ll be able to calm down, but your thanks are very much welcome.”

  “I need to get back, but soon, Jo, you can take me up there to explore.” This time he managed a full smile. “And maybe we can find time for another kiss.”

  Jo felt her cheeks burn as she met his smile with a shy one of her own.

  Then he swung up on his horse and, with a tip of his hat, rode away. Jo watched him until he’d climbed the canyon wall. At the top, he turned, took his hat all the way off his head and held it high, and swung it back and forth in a broad wave. Her happiness caught in her throat in a way that felt like it could lead to tears. Which would just be a pure waste of time. She waved back, just as high, just as broad.

  He turned and rode around the curve that led out of the canyon.

  It took every bit of her strength not to go running after him.

  25

  Dave came every day. There’d been no more kissing. Dave didn’t think he should get that close to her, but he expressed a keen interest in the activity.

  Jo returned that interest.

  In fact, she grew more interested by the day. But even without touching, they got to know each other a lot better. They went riding for a stretch each visit. He was full of
questions about her life and about how they found food during the winters up here. He wanted to know all about her memories of her parents and grandparents.

  She never ran out of questions about his life. Seeing him again each day made the cold snow and blowing wind bearable.

  For nearly two weeks, Jo and her sisters had lived up here. It was just past sunup on the fourteenth day when Ursula had awakened Jo with the sound of kneading bread with unusual vigor.

  Lying on the floor by the fire, Jo looked up at her, and from the back, she saw the rigid tension of her shoulders. Ursula was upset.

  They’d gone up to explore the stone house almost every day and passed many hours enjoying the odd place. Every time they’d left, Ursula had talked of moving up there. She didn’t say the words, but Ursula was considering being a hermit, a recluse. It hurt Jo’s heart to see the longing in Ursula to cut herself off from the whole world.

  Ilsa was still rolled up in her blanket. She’d slept in the bed in the main room. Ursula had the room the Wardens had added to Grandpa’s cabin. Jo slept on the floor and never asked for a turn in the only extra room. Anything to keep her big sister happy. Jo remembered that she’d been happy when it was just the three of them.

  Ursula had a gift for making a cabin a home. And she had a kind way about her when she was happy. The worry about the Wardens had eased since they’d gotten the good news that Mitch wasn’t dangerously ill. It still hovered out there, but Ursula was full of music.

  Now, when Ursula put aside her bread and covered it with a towel to let it rise, Jo slipped out of her blanket and caught her coat. Ursula, frowning, saw Jo jerk her head toward the door while she silently put on her boots. Bundled up, Jo went outside quickly so a cold gust of wind wouldn’t bother Ilsa. Let her sister sleep. They’d been on a long, cold hike yesterday, exploring the canyon beyond the stone building. They’d found the place where Mitch had climbed up. It was sheltered enough in stretches that his footprints hadn’t been covered with snow.