Edwina: Bride of Connecticut (American Mail-Order Brides 5)

by Margaret Tanner

  I’m not dead, but somehow I’ve landed in the deepest, darkest depths of hell. Escape. She had to get away, but how? If Ma wouldn’t help, she was doomed. Maybe there was someone else who would assist her? Please God, get me out of this purgatory.

  ***

  Eddy awoke next morning. She had slept so soundly, Ma must have drugged her. It was the only explanation. Her stomach grumbled for food, but she couldn’t bring herself to partake of the stew, not when she didn’t know what was in it. The stench of the place was overwhelming, but was that bread she could smell?

  Lizzie wandered over, still as bedraggled as before, but the cold pinched look in her cheeks was gone, and the child now wore a sheepskin coat over her ragged dress.

  “Granny made bread.” She tapped Eddy on the shoulder. “Want some?”

  “Yes please. Um, is there anywhere I can…”

  “Ya wanna pee?”

  “Yes.”

  “I take ya.”

  Eddy levered herself up from the pile of skins she had slept on. I won’t think

  about who slept on them before me. She was still dressed in the buckskin trousers and coat.

  Ma had made some kind of flat bread in the frypan. That at least she could eat. “Smells good,” Eddy said, glancing around in vain for somewhere to wash.

  Lizzie grabbed Eddy by the hand. A blast of damp, icy air slapped Eddy’s face as she left the fetid warmth of the hovel. They dashed through puddles, and made it to a lean-to, obviously a communal privy. It stunk, but wasn’t quite as revolting as she had imagined.

  On the way back, Eddy took the opportunity to scan her surroundings. The place was enclosed by brooding, tree covered mountains on three sides, and the strange, desolate area on the other side. Horses and cattle grazed in the distance, and by the churned up earth in another area, a plough had been through it.

  There were a dozen or so sod huts. A couple more were made from pieces of tin and wood nailed together.

  Of the several women she passed, all were in varying stages of pregnancy. Two very young women, who didn’t look to be older than thirteen or fourteen were obviously almost ready to give birth.

  They all wore sheepskin coats over ragged dresses. One of the girls had a black eye and bruises on her face. She was struggling to carry an armful of logs from a wood pile positioned between two of the huts.

  “Here, let me carry those for you.” Eddy took the logs off the girl. Her hair was a dirty blonde, her one good eye, blue.

  “Her be Jeb’s wife,” Lizzie said.

  “What’s your name?” Eddy asked.

  The girl gave a fearful look around. “Minnie. I not allowed to talk to outsiders.” She spoke in the same stilted, sing-song way as Lizzie and Ma. She reached out and touched Eddy’s hair. “Pretty.” She had obviously never seen red hair before.

  “Minnie, git in here,” Jeb yelled. “Or I’ll whup yer ass.”

  The girl grabbed the logs out of Eddy’s arms and staggered off.

  Poor thing. What a terrible life she must have being married to that fiend. He obviously beat her. From a nearby hut came the fretful wailing of a baby. A couple of women gave her a wary look, another pointedly turned her back.

  “Outsider,” a middle-aged woman yelled. “We don’t want ya kind here.”

  As if she was here by choice. Eddy bit down on the urge to reply. Better to not draw too much attention to herself. Several ragged children rushed up, all of them dirty, with runny noses and hacking coughs.

  Lizzie tugged at her hand, impatient to return to the warmth. Shivering with cold and distaste, Eddy didn’t argue. Ma’s place was palatial compared to these ramshackle huts.

  Once inside Ma’s, Lizzie and Eddy dashed over to the fire, and held their hands to the flames. As well as warming them, Eddy hoped the heat would kill any germs, as she couldn’t see any water to wash in. How long would it take for her to become as filthy and disheveled as everyone else?

  Ma handed her a mug of coffee, and ripped off a chunk of the flat bread. Dubiously she placed a piece in her mouth, surprised to find how good it tasted.

  “Here, Lizzie gal.” Ma handed the child a mug of hot milk, and a chunk of bread. “Git that into ya. It’ll warm ya innards.”

  It was obvious that the old woman cared deeply for her granddaughter.

  “So everyone here is related?” Eddy sipped the thick, dark coffee.

  Ma nodded her head. “All be Nesbitts.”

  After she had finished eating, Eddy glanced around. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Nah.”

  Eddy sat on one of the wooden boxes, and plaited her hair into a thick plait, which she tied up with a leather thong from her pocket. Lizzie watched her every movement.

  “Me too. Me too.” She pointed to her own hair.

  “All right.” With no comb, she could only run her fingers through the child’s hair to get out the worst knots. She gave Lizzie two plaits, and the excited child rushed to a cracked mirror hanging on a side wall to look at herself. She giggled with delight, running a hand down either plait.

  It did improve her appearance. Cleaned up, she would be quite a pretty child. She had looked half-starved when Eddy found her, but that was obviously not the case.

  Ma handed her a second cup of milk. “Drink it all, will make ya strong. I put special herbs in it,” Ma explained. “Her weak in the chest.”

  Eddy was glad the old woman was so devoted to the child. Imagine her being left in Jeb’s care. She would be dead in a week.

  “I met Minnie when I went out to the privy.”

  “Her baby nearly ready to come.”

  “Yes, I thought so. She had a black eye and bruising on her face.”

  Ma spat on the ground. “Jeb beats all his wives.”

  “That’s terrible, Minnie looks so young.”

  “Jeb likes ’em young.” Her eyes narrowed until they were like little black beads. “The younger the better.”

  “I didn’t see any men around.”

  “Most of ‘em have already left to go to the Swapping.”

  “Have your women left too?”

  “Nah, they don’t got so far to go. They be leaving in the morning.”

  “Where are they now? I saw only pregnant women outside.”

  “They be in the cave.”

  “Cave!” I’m starting to sound like a parrot Eddy thought frantically.

  Ma cackled. “Can’t leave ‘em with their menfolk, they be at ‘em if we did. No use sending women who are already breeding.” She likes you.” Lizzie sat in front of Eddy.

  “I like her, too. Do you want me to tell you a story, Lizzie?”

  “Yeah. Grandpa tells me some when I be good, but I know ‘em all now.”

  “Ah, well, you won’t know this one.” Eddy racked her brains, then decided to make one up.

  In a faraway kingdom lived a beautiful princess with long golden curls, but she was very sad.

  “What her name?”

  Um, Isabelle. Shh, you mustn’t interrupt me.

  Anyway, all Isabelle’s sisters were happily married, but her father wouldn’t let her get married unless it was to a handsome prince, and her sisters had married all the princes in the land.

  She was so lonely because there were no princes left for her. Now Isabelle had a beautiful white horse named Sugar Plum. She had a long white tail and mane, and wore a gold saddle. No-one except Isabelle knew that Sugar Plum was a magical horse. She could fly.

  One day, Isabelle heard from a messenger that in a faraway kingdom a handsome prince lived all alone in a great castle.

  Lizzie sat enthralled; even Ma listened now.

  The prince was sad because, by the time of the next full moon, if he hadn’t wed a beautiful princess, he would be turned into a wolf, and would roam his kingdom all alone forever.

  Isabelle wanted to meet him, but in two nights time the full moon would appear, and it would take four days to ride there. What could she do?

 
“Ride magic horse. Ride magic horse.” Clearly excited, Lizzie waved her arms around.

  That’s right. Isabelle got a servant to put the gold saddle and bridle on Sugar Plum, and they flew off over the mountains to the pretty kingdom, and met the handsome young prince whose name was Christian. They instantly fell in love and lived happily ever after.

  Lizzie clapped her hands. “More.”

  Eddy kept her amused for two hours, telling her all the stories she remembered from her own childhood. Her father had been a master storyteller, and she was surprised she had inherited this trait from him.

  Ma sat puffing her pipe, all the while staring at Eddy. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were thoughtful, speculative. “If ya leave here, Lizzie be missing you.”

  “I know, but I have another life outside this canyon. You have to understand, I could never be happy here.” Eddy placed her hand on Lizzie’s head. “Please, isn’t there any way you can help me get away?”

  After a time, Lizzie lay down and went to sleep.

  “There be one way. Ya go with the other women to the Swapping. Wait til night time and run. There be a shindig afore the men select their women. They be drunk by then. Ya be gone afore some man chooses ya. There be no escape after that. Rest now. Afore the women leave here, I take ya over.” She shuffled over to the stove.

  Dare she risk it? Eddy’s temples throbbed with anxiety. If she failed to get away, some man would rape her. And that’s what it would be. She would never submit willingly.

  Chapter Nine

  Josh rode toward the farm. He felt hellish. The last few days had been one of the most traumatic periods of his life.

  He had hurt Amy by deliberately refusing to come over for Thanksgiving because he couldn’t face Edwina after his behavior at the Cavendish shindig. Every night he had dreamed of Edwina.

  Hell’s bells, he was a fool. She was nothing like Maryanne, and if he’d had half a brain in his head they would have been married by now.

  Tom’s words echoed in his ears. “Nothing like waking up with a warm, loving woman in your arms. Over the years I’ve had my share of calico queens, and believe me, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back to that kind of life. You’re a dang fool if you let that gal go.”

  He had told Tom to mind his own business, the first harsh words they had ever exchanged. He had let his annoyance at Amy placing that advertisement in the paper color his opinion of Edwina. When she had stepped off the coach in Hartford, he had been amazed at her beauty, even if he didn’t like her Boston ways.

  Purposely, he had lied to her, letting her believe the mountain cabin was miles away from the farm. He took her over the longest and roughest route, and didn’t tell her it was a little more than an hour on horseback on the trail he normally used. What he had thought was a master stroke using the oxen, in reality, was deplorable. He did use them, it was true, but only to haul logs and heavy loads to and from the cabin and farm.

  Edwina had surprised him with her resilience, her good humor, making the best of what she must have considered an intolerable position. He felt lower than a snake’s belly.

  Serve him right if she rejected the marriage proposal he was now prepared to make. “I love her. I can’t live without her.” He spoke the words out loud for the first time, and they sounded good. If she agreed, they would be wed before Christmas. All he had to do was confess his love, his desire to make her his wife. But would she believe him?

  A few spots of rain soon turned into a downpour, cold and fierce; driven by a gusty wind, it slammed into him. Against the dark, angry looking sky, he could scarcely make out the smoke drifting from Tom and Amy’s chimney.

  He dismounted, and led the horse into the barn. Removing the saddle, he turned the animal loose. Striding over to the porch, he slapped his hat against his thigh to dislodge excess water. No-one rushed out to greet him. Strange. He shrugged out of his coat, hung it on a peg then hurried over to the fire.

  “Edwina. Amy.”

  Silence. Something was wrong.

  “Amy,” he shouted louder this time.

  “Josh! Josh!”

  He raced into the kitchen. Still in her nightgown, Amy lay on the floor in a pool of blood-stained water.

  “My God, what happened?” He squatted beside her.

  “I fell, and I’ve got the most terrible pains. I think the baby is coming. I can’t get up.”

  He scooped her up into his arms, and she clung to him weeping and groaning against his chest. He carried her upstairs to the bedroom, and laid her gently on the bed. “Where’s Edwina?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone! You let her pack her things and leave?”

  “No, no.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “She, she…” Amy moaned in pain. “Went for a ride yesterday. Didn’t come back.” Amy suddenly screamed with pain.

  “Oh my God, I have to find her.”

  “It’s coming, it’s coming. Do something.”

  He patted her hand. “It will be all right, don’t fret. Where’s Tom?”

  “He went out at first light to find Eddy. Simon’s gone to round up some men for the search.”

  “He left you like this?”

  “No, no. I told him to go. I was all right until I slipped over this morning.”

  Edwina missing. Pain clawed at his heart. He might be too late. He wanted to join the search for her but couldn’t leave Amy in this state.

  “The baby is coming! I’m going to die.” She alternately screamed and groaned.

  “I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” He thrust his fingers through his hair.

  “No, don’t leave me.” Amy frantically waved her hands. “You’ll have to deliver it.”

  “What!”

  “Deliver the baby.”

  Her words rocked him like a mule kick to the stomach. “Wait until Tom gets here.”

  “I can’t, I can’t.” She sobbed the words out. “You have to deliver it. There’s no-one else.”

  His mouth dropped open in shock. “Me?”

  He had done many things in his thirty years on earth, but never thought, even in his worst nightmare, he’d have to do something like this.

  “On the dresser, there’s a book,” she panted. “It tells you what to do.”

  “Can’t you wait?” What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course, she couldn’t wait. From the dresser, he snatched up the book, Birthing A Baby – A Midwife’s Account.

  “Edwina and I have been studying it.” She stopped groaning. “Oh, the pains have eased off. Get that woolen underlay hanging on the chair and put it under me. I don’t want to ruin the mattress.”

  Josh did as she asked. She cried out as he lifted her on to a sheepskin with a sheet sewn around it. Amy let out a high pitched scream as he hovered over her.

  “On the kitchen dresser, there’s a bowl, scissors and old sheets and towels. Eddy and I got everything ready.” She screamed again. The color ebbed from her face, perspiration broke out on her forehead. It nearly killed him to witness his sister’s agony.

  He took the stairs two at a time, and raced into the kitchen. Rolling up his sleeves, he washed his hands, then gathered up the stuff. Boiling water, the thought popped into his head from he knew not where. He carried everything back to the bedroom.

  Amy lay quietly. Let Tom come, let Tom come, he prayed over and over. Tom would be as useless as him, but at least they could give each other moral support or one of them could ride over and get Mrs. Cavendish to help. A woman of her age would have delivered dozens of babies.

  Amy, who had looked after him all his life, was in dire peril. He couldn’t let her down, and his sweet Edwina had to be sacrificed. He took a deep breath, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of one hand. Amy’s eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. Maybe she would hold on until Tom arrived. Wishful thinking. He picked up the book and skimmed over the page. When the head appears, gently rotate the shoulders to get the baby out. Cut the cord. He glanced at the scissors. You can do
this. To save your sister, you have to.

  He had mended wounds on sailors, delivered a foal or two… A scream rent the air. He dropped the book, and rushed to the bed. Amy grabbed hold of her knees. He could see by the strain on her face that she was pushing.

  He lifted her nightgown up, and was alarmed to see blood. Lots of it. The baby’s head popped out with a suddenness that caused him to jump back. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from falling apart, and moved back into place. With both hands, he gently guided the infant out. The little girl screamed at her abrupt entry into the world.

  “Is it all right?” Amy cried out. “Is it all right?”

  “Yes, you have a little girl. She has a good pair of lungs as you can hear.” Tears filled his eyes and he felt almost light headed with relief. He cut and tied off the cord, washed the birthing mucous away from the tiny face, and handed her over to Amy. “She’s got your dark hair.”

  “Oh, Josh, she’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “I’m just glad everything turned out well.” He attended to Amy, doing things for her that no man should have to do, even with his own wife. “You’ve lost a fair amount of blood. I’ll get you a warm drink.”

  “Thanks, Tom will be pleased, he wanted a little girl. This is the happiest day of my life, except for Eddy. What if something bad has happened to her?”

  “It won’t, she’s resilient and has a ton of courage.” He tried to allay Amy’s worry, all the while fear tore at his heart, the pain was so cruel and deep, he didn’t know if he could bear it. He hurried down to the kitchen, took a couple of slugs of Tom’s whiskey, while he waited for the milk to warm up. He didn’t know what else to give her.

  Oh Edwina, sweet Edwina. If he had married her when he should have, instead of letting pride and stubbornness stand in his way, she would be safe. It was agony not knowing what might have happened to her, made even worse by the fact he couldn’t leave Amy and the baby to join the search.