“Thank you,” she said with tears in her voice.
Mrs. O’Connor gave Maura a hug. “Thank you, my dear girl. ’Tis the perfect newest journey for my mother’s quilt to make.”
“I’ve thought of it many times since we left New York,” Mary said. “It was in our house in Ireland all my life, then in the New York tenement.”
“It likely ought to have stayed with you,” Maura acknowledged.
Mrs. O’Connor shook her head firmly. “I left it with you for a reason. I wanted you to bundle our Aidan in it. I could almost feel as if I were holding him again, knowing he was wrapped in my mother’s quilt.”
Maura blinked back a tear. “I treasured it. I was without family for so long. Sometimes the quilt felt like the only connection I had to anyone outside of Aidan. I needed it more than I can say.”
She received another heartfelt hug from her mother-in-law, one she returned with earnestness.
“Maura.” Cecily spoke her name with earnest anxiety.
One look told Maura that her sister-in-law was having more pains. This one came far closer to the last one than before.
Maura turned to Mary. “Help Cecily to her bedroom,” she said. “Mrs. O’Connor and Mrs. Callaghan, gather some clean linens and rags. Biddy, set some water to boil.”
Ciara stepped forward. “What should I do?”
Maura held her gaze. “Find Tavish. And tell him to hurry.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Ryan watched the spectacle of buying and selling play out in the enormous open field behind the train depot. He’d participated in the back-and-forth every year he’d worked the Claire land. Now his crop was safely sold, his income secured for the year. And, once they returned to Hope Springs, he and Joseph would draw up the papers that would make the Claire land his land. Life was looking up.
If only he could convince Maura to have faith in the future.
She’d kissed him. The memory of her lips pressed to his seared through him still, tempered by the words she’d spoken immediately after: “I’ve lost too many people.” It had been a moment of fear and worry, not the toppling of her walls he’d been hoping for.
How could he show her that love was stronger than even the greatest of worries and could soothe the deepest pain? She needed to believe that. Not just for their futures together, but for her own peace of mind.
“Where do the crops go after those men buy them?” Aidan stood next to Ryan, leaning against the wood fence running the length of the selling field.
Ryan pulled himself back into the moment. “Depends on who buys them. Some send them to bigger towns along the rail lines where fewer people farm, so crops aren’t as easily available. Some sell to ranchers and others needing them in this area of the territory.”
“Like you sold your hay to the ranches around Hope Springs.”
“Two of the ranches, anyway. But yes, it’s quite the same. The men who buy crops here have to sell them for more than they paid; that’s how they make their living. So the ranches buying from those men pay more than they would if they were buying directly from the farmer.”
Ryan could practically hear the wheels spinning in Aidan’s mind as he sorted through the explanation. “So the ranchers who buy from you save money?”
Ryan nodded.
“And you still make money too?”
“I do, but I save m’self the trouble of driving all that hay down to market. It’d take wagons and wagons, and I’d need to hire people to help drive them here, then return with the empty wagons.”
“And you’d have to buy the wagons and horses in the first place.”
The boy was quick.
“Yes, but the town makes the trip together so we can pool our resources—share wagons and trade drivers and such. And we’ve gained a bit of bargaining power coming as a group like we do. But my crop is needed right outside town, so it makes more sense to sell it there.”
“And the ranches don’t have to fetch it here, or pay more to the men who buy it first.”
“Seems a good plan to me.”
Aidan turned a bit, facing him instead of the ongoing bidding out in the field. “Why did you come, then, if you don’t have a crop to sell?”
“To help drive,” he said. “Also because we don’t just sell while we’re here. We purchase supplies we can’t get in town—seed for the next year’s crop if it’s needed, equipment, building supplies.”
“What supplies are you getting on this trip?”
“I need to build two hay barns so I’ll not have to scramble to cover my hay if we get another ill-timed rain storm. This is the best place to get the wood planks, nails, shingles, and all the other things I’ll need.”
Aidan nodded. “And there’ll be a lot of empty wagons making the trek back that you can put the wood and things inside.”
“Sorted that quickly, lad.”
Aidan smiled broadly. “Ma says I’m whip smart.”
“Which shows she’s whip smart, as well.”
Aidan climbed onto the fence, sitting on the cross post. “You’re fond of my ma, aren’t you?”
“I’m a vast deal more than ‘fond of her.’ I think she’s . . . rather wonderful.”
“She is.” Pride and tenderness filled the boy’s eyes. “I’m glad she let me come along to the depot. I know it made her nervous.”
“She’s a brave soul, always trying to do what’s right for you.” ’Twas little wonder Ryan had lost his heart to her so completely. She never stopped amazing him.
“How much would a new coat cost?” Aidan asked suddenly. “For ma. Hers is worn, with holes in places.”
“A coat is not a small thing,” Ryan warned. “I doubt you’ve money enough to buy one, especially readymade.”
Disappointment pulled at the lad’s posture. “She spent her extra money to make me a coat. But she’s going to be cold this winter.” He turned his worried gaze on Ryan once more. “I don’t know what to do.”
A coat was not an optional thing during the bitter Wyoming winter months. Ryan would buy her one himself, but theirs was not an established enough connection for such a personal gift. The gesture would likely either feel like an overstep or an act of charity. Her boy could make the purchase, though. Except he likely hadn’t a single penny to his name, and he didn’t have a job to get any.
“You’ve become quite a good milker, and I’ve seen you fork hay to the animals,” Ryan said. “What other jobs have you learned to do over at Archers’?”
“I’ve fed the chickens and pigs. Finbarr’s showing me how to stack food in the root cellar. He says I’ll learn to help mend fences once we’re back from market.”
“He’s proving a good teacher, is he?”
Aidan nodded. “He gets frustrated sometimes, because he can’t see things, and he doesn’t always know how to explain or understand when I try to describe something. But we’re sorting it, and it’s going better than at first.”
“Well, all those things you’ve been learning are things that need doing around my place.” Saints, it felt good to call his land his place. He’d dreamed of having a place of his own nearly all his life. “I’ll lend you the money to get your ma a coat if you’re willing to put in some work for me to pay it off.”
Hope shone almost painfully in his blue eyes. “I’ll do it. Anything you want me to, as long as I know how. She needs a coat, Ryan. She’s not strong like she used to be. If she’s cold all winter, she’ll get worse. I know she will. She’ll—” He stopped midsentence, choking back the word he clearly didn’t want to say.
Ryan set a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll not let her suffer, Aidan. Anything she needs, we’ll see that she has it.”
“Like a coat?”
He nodded. “A coat to begin with.” He motioned toward the mercantile, not too far distant. “Run inside and see if they’ve any readymade coats. The clerk, Bart, will help us find the best price.”
“Thank you.” He hopped off the fence and ran across t
he dirt road.
Ryan followed at a slower pace. He meant to keep his promise to Aidan. Whatever role he was permitted to play in Maura’s life, he’d embrace it, and he would find a way to ease her worries and suffering. He’d do everything he could to keep her healthy and strong, and, if she’d let him, he’d walk every step of her path—whatever it looked like—with her.
The mercantile was quiet; most everyone in town was at the crop auction. Other than Ryan and Aidan, only a single person was inside, the sales clerk. Ryan had come to the depot a couple times a year since moving to Hope Springs, and Bart had always been the sales clerk. But Bart was a short, stout ginger. This man was tall, lanky, with dark hair and a tan complexion no Irishman could hope to achieve.
Aidan had already found a display of clothing. One benefit of a larger town than the one they lived in was the broader assortment of merchandise. Among the dresses and men’s shirts and trousers were several women’s coats. Aidan looked them over with immense concentration. He cared for his mother, there was no denying that.
Ryan moved in the direction of a clerk. “Good afternoon. Ryan Callaghan.” He held out his hand to shake.
The clerk accepted it. “Burke Jones.”
“How much for a coat?” Ryan motioned toward the display.
He was quoted a not unreasonable price. “The lad there’ll be choosing one for his ma. I’ve a few things to get m’self. Add the coat to my tally.”
Burke nodded. “Is he your boy?”
Hearing the question asked so casually, Ryan realized he wished the answer were other than it was. He thought of Aidan in a fatherly way. He truly did. That longing he’d felt for so many years to have children of his own, to watch them learning and growing, had eased somewhat of late, though so slowly and subtly he’d not realized it. He’d been teaching and guiding Aidan, spending time with him in the way a father might.
“His ma is—” How did he describe his connection to Maura without growing too personal or belittling their connection? “I’m hopeful his ma’ll marry me someday.”
First, he’d been caught off-guard by the realization of his connection with Aidan. Now he was admitting aloud for the first time that he wanted a future with Maura. ’Twas quite a day for revelations.
Aidan looked back at him. “I like both the blue and the red one, but I don’t know which would be better.”
“She’d be stunning in red,” Ryan answered.
The lad rolled his eyes. “You can’t say things like that about her. She’s a mother.”
Ryan chuckled.
The clerk smiled as well. “What do you need besides the coat?”
“A full scoop of peppermints,” Ryan said. That’d be enough to last the lad quite a while. Ryan hoped that seeing Aidan enjoy them would bring Maura a bit of joy. “And you don’t happen to have a town chemist, do you? I could use some advice on medicines.”
“So happens I could help you there.”
“You’re a chemist?” His laugh, one arising from his assumption that the man was jesting, died at the fully serious look on his face. “You are?”
“A doctor, actually. Graduated from Chicago Medical College a few years ago.”
“And you’re working as a mercantile clerk?” That seemed unlikely.
“I was meant to take a position in Laramie,” he said. “It was no longer available by the time I arrived. I didn’t find a lot of options for someone with no farming or ranching skills.”
“But you have medical skills. Surely that gives you opportunities.”
Burke motioned to his clerk’s apron. “Obviously not.”
A shame, really. “Life doesn’t always follow the path we hope.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I count myself lucky, though, that you’re here,” Ryan said. “I’ve two people in m’life who could use some medicine, but I haven’t the first idea what would be best.”
Burke motioned him over to the display of powders, teas, drops, and other medicinals. “Tell me what ails them.”
He began with Ma, describing her rheumatism and how it bothered her. The clerk asked a few questions of his own, insightful queries that would’ve put to rest any lingering doubts Ryan had about the man’s competency. In the end, he suggested two different powders, each efficacious for different symptoms. He even wrote out instructions for their best use. And he further recommended a flower-based tea that would, over time, likely provide some relief from her achiness.
Next came the subject of Maura’s cough. Ryan hoped he was not breaking his word to her about not revealing the nature of her illness. He wasn’t telling anyone she knew, and he wasn’t naming her. And this was a rare opportunity for some expert advice. She’d given up the care of a doctor for the sake of her son. If Ryan could give her even a moment of knowledgeable help, he would.
“That case is trickier,” Burke admitted. “Conditions contracted in the factories rarely clear up, though she may very well have left early enough for the disease to not progress quickly.”
“That is her hope, as well.”
“To calm the cough when it grows troublesome, I’d suggest this.” He gave Ryan a bottle of tonic. “It can be diluted to stretch it further. The instructions are on the bottle. And this”—he selected a tin of powder—“might be helpful if she’s been coughing enough to be in pain from the effort.”
“What else?”
Burke shook his head. “It’s almost impossible to say without actually observing the patient. Each time she grew worse would mean a new decision with new information. The disease likely can’t be cured, and if it’s actively progressing, it can’t necessarily be slowed, either. But symptoms can sometimes be treated to offer some relief.”
“You’d need to treat her in person?”
Burke nodded. “How far away is your town?”
“Two and a half days by wagon or stage. But we’re fully isolated in the winter. It’s not accessible then.”
A look of true empathy filled his face. “I am sorry to hear that. These will help.” He motioned to the tonic and powder he’d recommended. “I’d suggest bringing her down in the spring if you’re able, but I don’t know that I’ll still be here. I know of another doctor in town who might be helpful, though he’s only ever practiced out West, so he won’t be very familiar with factory-caused illnesses.”
“Thank you anyway,” Ryan said.
Aidan approached the counter.
“Did you choose a coat, lad?”
“The red one.” He turned sharp eyes on Ryan. “But not because she’d be ‘stunning’ in it. It has a flannel lining. Mrs. Johnson said having flannel lining is important.”
Burke nodded and moved to fetch the coat. Ryan eyed the collection of powders and tonics in his hands, feeling the inadequacy of the offering. Ma and Maura needed more than his ignorant attempts at helping them.
Burke Jones—Doctor Burke Jones, knew about the ailments. He’d spoken expertly and competently. Ryan could bring both women back in the spring, but Burke wouldn’t necessarily be there. There had to be a better answer.
In the next instant, his mind suggested something that just might work, and his heart simply froze at the thought.
Burke returned with the coat. Ryan set the bottles and tin on the countertop, but didn’t pull out his billfold. Not yet.
“What are you doing this winter?” he asked the man. “Because I have a proposition.”
Chapter Thirty-nine
Ryan was always eager to return to Hope Springs after the trip to the depot. This year, though, he felt an excitement he hadn’t before. He’d be returning to his own land, to the promise of many good years to come. More than that, though, returning meant seeing Maura again. That she’d never left his thoughts in the two weeks he’d been gone spoke to the place of importance she’d claimed in his heart.
She was wary, and understandably so. She faced an uncertain future and had a son to consider. Yet he was not one to have his hopes and dreams undermined sim
ply because seeing them fulfilled would be more difficult than he’d anticipated.
He, with Aidan up on the bench alongside him, drove the wagon they’d taken stewardship of, one belonging to Tavish but lent out for the harvest run. They headed first to the Archer house. Aidan wanted to see his mother; Ryan was no less eager. Tavish, he felt certain, wouldn’t begrudge the delay.
They arrived ahead of Joseph and Finbarr, though likely by only a few minutes. He wrapped the horses’ reins around a post, then joined Aidan as they walked toward the back door. Maura could usually be found in the kitchen—most of her duties were accomplished there.
He knocked on the kitchen door at the back of the house.
“Saints, why am I so nervous?”
Aidan laughed. Apparently Ryan had asked the question aloud.
“Ma’ll be happy to see you,” Aidan said.
“Do you think she’ll be happy to see you?” Ryan countered.
He laughed again. The lad was happier, more open, than he’d been when he and Maura first arrived. Ryan hoped that he had contributed to that, at least a little.
Aidan eyed the door. “She doesn’t usually take this long to answer.”
“She might be somewhere else in the house.”
The handle turned and the door opened. ’Twasn’t Maura who stood just beyond, but Emma. And there was no mistaking the heaviness of her expression.
“Has something happened?” he asked, instantly alarmed. “Are you needing help, lass?”
She shook her head, looking from one of them to the other. Aidan grew instantly somber. Emma’s gaze settled on her friend. “Your mother is very ill. We’re all afraid for her.”
The lad took a shaky breath. “Is she here?”
She motioned toward the bedroom just off the kitchen.
Ryan put an arm about the boy’s shoulders. “Let’s go see her, lad.”
Together they made the short, yet painful, trek across the small kitchen. Ryan prepared himself for the worst, all the while trying to decide how he could possibly help Aidan through whatever they might find.
Mrs. O’Connor was inside, dabbing Maura’s forehead with a damp cloth. Maura looked paler than she had in all the months Ryan had known her, yet deep, worrisome color splotched her face, a clear indication of fever. As far as he knew, she’d not been feverish since coming to town. That could not be a good sign.
Long Journey Home (Longing for Home Book 5) Page 32
