Ten Thousand Charms

by Allison K. Pittman

  Reverend Fuller released Gloria's hand, gripped her by her shoulders, and pulled her to him, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

  “Welcome to our family,” he said.

  Outside the church, women were loading themselves and their children into their buggies and rigs. Amidst the flurry of goodbyes, Josephine Logan turned to Maureen and asked if she and Gloria were planning to stay for a picnic dinner on the church lawn. Gloria nodded enthusiastically, still remembering the delicacies John William had brought back from his first visit to the Middleton church.

  “But everybody's leaving,” Maureen said. Indeed, the crowd had dwindled to just Maureen, Gloria, Josephine and the children. Even Reverend Fuller was gone, having taken his daughter to his home for an after-church dinner. “And I didn't bring anything—”

  “I did," Josephine said, a note of triumph in her voice. “Not much, but enough to make a nice snack before a long ride home, and give us a chance to talk.” This last remark was directed straight at Gloria. For the second time that day Gloria felt warmed by the attention of this woman. “Eliza,” Josephine said, “hand down that basket. Charles, you can help spread the blanket.”

  There certainly was enough for a snack. Josephine had a length of venison sausage, a loaf of bread, and a stone crock of soft cheese. She'd been experimenting with goat's milk cheese and declared this to be her most successful attempt yet. There were half-a-dozen tart green apples, picked too early at her eager young son's insistence.

  Like the babies’ clothes, the meal spread in front of them was just another example of Josephine's generous spirit.

  “I'd say there's more than a snack here,” Gloria said as each item was brought out of the basket. “Thank you for sharing with us.”

  “It's our pleasure,” Josephine said, slicing the sausage into thin rounds. “Who's feeding your crew today?”

  “I sent them out with some bread and butter,” Maureen said. “We're running low on just about everything, feeding those men. I'm hoping they'll come in a little early and maybe get some fish for dinner. We haven't had a good fish fry in a while. Otherwise, looks like beans and cornbread tonight.”

  They had spread a quilt in the grass beside the church, situating themselves where they could soak in the autumn sun while being sheltered from the autumn breeze. Gloria settled herself at the blanket's edge and leaned back against the church wall. She opened her blouse and brought Danny to her breast to nurse, draping a shawl across her shoulder. Josephine took a plate from the bottom of her basket, loaded it with goodies, and set it within easy reach of Gloria. Maureen gave Kate a crusty bread heel to keep her occupied until Gloria could nurse her. Before sitting down herself, she smiled and produced a small paper package tied with string.

  “Here's our contribution to the meal,” Maureen said, smiling. “Molasses cookies. I brought them for the ride home.”

  “Why didn't you tell me we had cookies?” Gloria asked, her voice a mix of delight and petulance.

  “Because then we wouldn't have had any for the ride home.”

  The three women laughed and promised Eliza and Charles that the biggest cookies would be theirs if they ate their meal quietly and behaved. They settled into easy conversation. Maureen reported the status of their crops, the bounty of her garden. Gloria gave a glowing report of the latest milestones of the babies—sitting up, pulling up, sounds suspiciously close to being actual words. Josephine said that David and James would be able to bring in most of their crop. They didn't have much more than what they would need through the winter; David was intending to raise sheep next year. They were expecting to get the start of their first flock in the spring.

  “I guess David was just meant to be a shepherd,” Josephine said, laughing. Maureen laughed, too, and Gloria was sure there was a joke in there somewhere. She produced a polite chuckle and told herself to remember to ask Maureen about it on the ride home.

  “He's wanted to go into ranching since we got here,” Josephine continued, “but the opportunity just hasn't been right until now.”

  “How long have you been here?” Gloria asked.

  “Let's see…we were married just before we arrived, had James three years later, he's twelve…about fifteen years.”

  Maureen shot her a look of surprise. “You married just before you arrived? You got married on the trail?”

  Josephine blushed a bit and cast down her eyes.

  “I've been here since forty-nine,” Maureen said. “I thought 1 knew everyone's story Guess I missed one.”

  By now Josephine was fully blushing, and Gloria would have felt sorry for her had she not been so curious about Josephine's story

  “Well," Josephine began, then noticed little Eliza leaning forward. “Eliza, get the water jug out of the back of the wagon and take it to the water pump just over there.” She pointed to the blacksmith's building some fifty yards away

  “Aw, ma,” Eliza said. “1 wanna hear the story.”

  “Go. And take Charles with you.”

  “Yeah!” Charles said.

  When the children were well out of earshot, Josephine took one delicate bite of apple and began.

  “My parents and I came over with a train of other families. About fifteen wagons. David was one of the scouts. 1 thought he was just about the most handsome thing I'd ever seen. He wore buckskin pants and had a knife strapped to his leg. He had a beautiful black horse named Bullet that he rode in circles around the wagons every evening, and sometimes when we stopped for meals he let some of the little boys ride him. That's how I caught his eye—he was giving my little brother a ride. I'll never forget it. David was sitting up tall in that saddle, my little brother clinging to his back. Well, he smiled down at me and said, ‘Hey little girl. You want to go for a ride with me sometime?'”

  “What did you say?” Gloria asked. Danny was finished nursing, and she handed him over to Maureen who, in turn, passed Kate to her.

  “I told him that I was not a child, and if he wanted to go for a ride with me, he could just come and court me proper.”

  “How old were you?” Maureen said, rubbing Danny's back and bouncing him on her soft lap.

  “Sixteen. Sixteen and thinking I knew all 1 had to know about life. Well, my father was not about to let me go off with some wild wagon scout. And we were in the middle of nowhere, so we didn't exactly have any church socials to go courting to. So the first time he came riding around our wagon, my father told him that he could just ride himself right off.”

  “But you didn't,” Gloria said.

  “Oh, no." Josephine's face took on the glow of the girl she'd been fifteen years ago. “I made eyes at him every chance I got, just a terrible flirt. And he tried just about everything to get to talk to me alone. So one evening, I'm dumping out the dish water, and he comes up to me, leans down real close and says, ‘How about going for a walk with me tonight?'”

  All three women emitted a sound of delight, as if they had been transported to their sixteenth year, face to face with a dashing young suitor. Even Gloria managed to conjure a feeling of innocent thrill.

  “And you said…” Maureen prompted.

  “What do you think 1 said? I waited for my mother and brother to fall asleep in our wagon. My father actually slept outside, so that was a little trickier. I unlatched some of the canvas ties and snuck out the side.”

  “And he was waiting for you,” Gloria said.

  “He was indeed. We didn't say a single word. He just took my hand and we started walking. When we thought we were out of earshot of the men on watch, we started talking. Whispers at first, then he said something funny, and we laughed and talked some more. And walked some more, and before I knew it, we were lost.”

  “Lost?" Gloria's voice was full of skepticism. “What kind of a scout gets lost?”

  “The kind that's sparking a pretty young girl,” Maureen said.

  “All I know is that one minute I looked over my shoulder and saw the fires in our camp, then I looked back and there
was nothing but darkness. I was terrified. I just knew we were going to get eaten by wolves or attacked by Indians—”

  “Or found by your father?” Maureen asked.

  “Especially that,” Josephine said. “But it was pitch dark outside. I couldn't see a thing. 1 couldn't see David, and he was right next to me.”

  “I'll bet he was,” Gloria said.

  “So he said the safest thing to do was just to stop. Right there. Before we got any further away”

  “Good decision,” Maureen said. “Sometimes when you don't know where to go, it's best to just stay put.” She waited until Gloria was looking right at her before adding, “Besides, you couldn't have been far from the dawn.”

  “It seemed like it at the time. But we just sat down and—”

  “Prayed?” Gloria asked.

  Josephine sent her a puzzled look. “Why would you say that?”

  Gloria shrugged. It just seemed like one of those stories where everybody ended up praying and everything turned out all right.

  “Well, we didn't,” Josephine said, seeming a little embarrassed. “We just sat together for a while, then he kissed me. It was my first kiss, and I thought to myself right then that if we survived that night, I would want to spend the rest of my life kissing him.”

  “Aww,” Maureen and Gloria said in unison.

  “Then he tried something else, and I slapped him, and I decided that if we lived through that night, I'd let my father do whatever he wanted to. And that's when I really got scared— thinking about my father. What was I going to say? How was I ever going to earn his trust or forgiveness?”

  “And did you?” Gloria asked.

  “I guess I fell asleep—I was crying, you know—and the next thing I knew, I heard my name being called.” Josephine cupped her hand to her mouth and, in a deep voice, yelled, “Josie! Josie girl!’ It was just beginning to get light. The sun wasn't up, but the sky had gone from black to that silvery blue. I stood up and called, ‘Daddy? Daddy!’ I wanted him to come and find me, but he didn't. He just stayed right there in the camp and called and called so we could follow his voice. David and I walked together—he was much better about following the sound than I was—but as soon as I saw my father, I broke away from him and ran and ran.”

  “You weren't afraid that he'd be angry?” Gloria asked.

  “Not anymore. Not once 1 heard his voice.”

  “What did he say?” Gloria had long forgotten about the baby at her breast.

  Josephine's words caught in her throat a little. “He didn't say anything. He just held out his arms, so grateful that I hadn't been killed or…worse.”

  “I'll bet he didn't hold out his arms for young David, though, did he?” Maureen said.

  “Oh, no." Josephine's humor was back. “He greeted David with a shotgun barrel, and I had to do some pretty fast talking to convince him to put it away, even though there was a part of me that thought he deserved to be shot.”

  “But you still married him?” Gloria said.

  Josephine shrugged. “That's the power of a kiss. You have to admire a man who would take that kind of a risk just to get one little kiss.”

  The afternoon turned out to be a warm one. Gloria took Kate and Danny out of their little woolen suits and tucked them snugly into quilted cocoons for a nap on the ride home. She felt herself feeling drowsy in the sunlight, and more than once during the ride home her head bobbed in sleep.

  “Where you goin'?” Maureen's voice seemed far away.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you have a plan? A place to go?”

  Gloria was fully awake now. “I dont make plans. Never have. When it's time to go, 1 just pick up and leave.”

  “Just like your mother?”

  “I am nothinglike my mother. My mother dragged me through her life. Made me a part of it. I won't do that.”

  “So you think leaving's your only choice?”

  Gloria said nothing.

  “Because it's not, you know. You could choose to stay Stay and make the kind of life you wouldn't mind sharing with your child.” Her voice got softer. “The kind of life you wanted, all along.”

  “And what?" Gloria said, turning toward Maureen. “Just set myself up in some other woman's house?”

  “For now." Maureen in turn faced Gloria. “Besides, haven't you always lived in some other woman's house?”

  Gloria bristled and turned away “And I'm supposed to keep on pretending to be Mrs. MacGregan?”

  “No,” Maureen said. “Become her.”

  Gloria thought back to the first Mrs. MacGregan. Cold and withdrawn, the type of woman who hated women like Gloria.

  “You know,” Maureen continued, “not everybody has a story like Josephine's. Not all women are lucky enough to ever be young and in love. So if that's what you're waiting for—”

  “It's not,” Gloria snapped. “I don't even know what that is.”

  “I loved Ed Brewster,” Maureen said, her face and voice softening, “but I didn't marry him because I loved him.”

  “So why did you?”

  Maureen reached over to pat Gloria's hand. “Don't think that you're the only woman to feel like she doesn't have a choice. I was twenty-six years old. I'd spent my whole life taking care of my parents—when they died, I was just so alone. I'd known Ed for a while, and when he said he was pulling up stakes to move out west and wanted someone to go with him, I went.

  “John William's a good man,” Maureen continued. “He's strong, and handsome in his own way. Most important, he's a godly man who cares for you a great deal.”

  “He told me once that he thought God brought our paths together,” Gloria said. “But I think he was just talking about Kate. What I did for her.”

  “Maybe so. Maybe you were meant to save Kate, but you know what I really think? I think God sent Kate along to save you.”

  The idea hit Gloria like a horseshoe to the head. “Why would He do that?”

  “For the same reason that Josephine's father would stand at the edge of their camp and call out to his child. He brought you to safety.”

  Safe. It was the very word to describe how Gloria felt every minute with John William. The first day she met him, he'd protected her from the barbs of his wife. The first night in her cabin, when he entrusted her with his daughter, not even his imposing size and demand intimidated her. They'd journeyed together for countless miles, and even in the wildest country she'd felt protected. Sheltered. He steered conversations with strangers away from incriminating questions, and built her up to be a natural, welcome part of his life. She had never felt as valued as the night he destroyed the detestable little man at Fort Hall. Then there was the day, just one month ago, when together she and John William drove this very path, rounded this very corner to the pretty house with the welcoming blue door. She'd felt at home. Not just then, but ever since the day she'd put her foot in John William's hand and he lifted her up into this wagon.

  “All my life,” Gloria said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I've wanted two things. A father, and a home. And the minute I knew I was pregnant, I promised myself that my child would have those things.”

  “And he will,” Maureen said. “But girl, there's no reason to deny them for yourself, too.”

  “But I told him I was leaving. He said he didn't care.”

  “He said no such thing.” Maureen answered Gloria's questioning look with a smile. “I was awake, remember?”

  “Well, that's what I heard.”

  “That's what you wanted to hear.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he cares for you. That he has feelings for you. He wants to marry you and take care of you and your child.”

  “But he didn't ask me to stay.”

  “No, child, he's asked you to choose.”

  They drove into the yard, stopping just a few feet from the front door. Gloria turned around to check on the children and smiled at their ability to slumber through bouncy roads and conversation. Of
f in the distance, she heard the sound of the men's voices as they worked. They were singing. The actual words were lost in the distance, but John William's voice rose slightly above the rest.

  “But what will 1 tell him?” Gloria said.

  “Don't tell him anything. I'll just stand on the porch with a shotgun waiting for him to show up.”

  loria didn't say another word about leaving. Each morning seemed to be a little colder, and while there was no threat of an imminent frost, a sense of urgency prevailed. John William was anxious to get his wheat to the miller in Centerville, not only to have his own supply of flour and grain set aside for his newly acquired family, but also to pay the wages earned by the crew he'd hired to bring in this first crop. Each day, the men worked past the threshold of darkness, returning to the house too exhausted for their accustomed evenings of supper, drinks, and card games.

  After the second week, four of the men John William hired left to fulfill obligations to other farmers, leaving just Big Phil and Lonnie to help bring in the remainder of the crop.

  Just after breakfast one morning, John William stood in the kitchen doorway, hat in hand, and announced that he needed a favor.

  “What?” Gloria asked suspiciously

  “Now, John,” Maureen said, casting a disparaging look at Gloria, “we're all family here. Asking for help isn't like asking for the moon. What do you need?”

  “Another set of hands.”

  “Gather up as much as your hand will hold,” John William said, demonstrating by filling his palm with a generous bunch of newly cut wheat.

  “Like this?” Gloria held up a scrawny bunch—probably no more than twelve stalks—clutched in a hand that seemed to mirror her sullen attitude.

  “Only if you want to make this last till it's time to plant again.” He reached over to unclench Gloria's fist, placed his own cut bunch into her grasp, and curled her fingers around it. “There. About like that. Enough that you can get a grip on it, not so much that you're gonna let any drop.”

  “I think 1 have the idea,” Gloria said with an exaggerated tone of understanding.