by Raina King
“Isn’t it, though?”
Nora turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“All those things you mentioned—the raids, the robberies, the illness, the wildfires. Don’t those things happen out here? I heard there was a fire at the far end of the valley at the beginning of summer.”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “But it never went anywhere. We never even saw the smoke—just a light haze over the valley.”
“That’s not what I heard. Two families lost everything.”
“They did? I didn’t know that. Then again…I was trapped at home, at the time.”
“I also heard there was a diphtheria epidemic over in Verdant Springs last summer, or thereabouts.”
“That’s true. But it was limited to Verdant Springs. I asked Arlen if I could go volunteer to help, but he was worried I’d get sick.”
“So how can you say those things don’t happen out here?”
“I…” she trailed off, speechless.
“You don’t think it’s the same, because you weren’t there to experience it. But don’t you see? If you had, it wouldn’t have been like those books you read, where the heroes always prevail. In real life, sometimes the heroes and heroines get sick. Or shot. Or die in fires. The things that make books so exciting are the very things we want to avoid in real life…because in real life, the endings to our stories are unpredictable. Sometimes our stories end in sadness. I don’t think that’s the kind of excitement you want. Is it?”
Nora thought of Gwen, sick and in need of a doctor…and no doctor to be found. It was the makings of a great fictional story—but a horrible life experience.”
“I never thought about it that way. I just…I didn’t want to end up like my friends—married and stuck at home, before they’d ever really lived.”
“Nora, if you spend your whole life chasing the next adventure, you end up missing some of the most beautiful, wondrous parts of life. It’s not that fun and excitement are bad things, in and of themselves—but if you’re so busy chasing after what you don’t have, you’ll miss the things that are right in front of you.”
“Like Gwen.”
He nodded. “And your husband.”
Nora looked away. “I’m not so sure I even have a husband. He’s more like a parent. Or a jailer.”
“Why do you say that?” Reverend Holden leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.
“I don’t mean to speak ill of my husband, Reverend. I’m sorry—”
“You’re upset—and you’re confiding in your soon-to-be-pastor. That’s not the same thing as complaining, or idle gossip.”
Nora bit her lip. “It’s just that…things started out wonderful with Arlen. But then over the winter, things changed. He wanted me home all the time. He didn’t want to go to church—he said the roads were too dangerous, and I was pregnant.”
“That’s not uncommon for first time fathers, from what I hear. They can become quite overprotective of their wives when they are expecting.”
“It’s not just that. Even when summer came, and I’d given birth, he made excuses. It got to the point that people at church were asking where we’d been. He doesn’t even like me to go visit my friend down the road, anymore.”
“Is it possible he thought you were shirking your duties at home?”
Nora shook her head. “He tried to claim that, but I always made sure to do my work before I went to see her. Reverend, I’m up on that mountain all alone every day. It’s not what I wanted, and not what I expected, but I resigned myself to it. But this…being deprived so often of church, of my friend, of my books…”
“Your books? Has he forbidden you to read?”
“Not exactly. But I used to trade with other women at church, or buy a new book once in a while…and now, Arlen seems to be doing everything he can to stand in the way. He’s gone so far as to remove the books from my bag that I had wanted to trade in town.”
“Mrs. Hunt, is there any chance he doesn’t approve of your books?”
“I…I don’t see how. There’s nothing lurid in them, whatsoever, I assure you. As I said, it’s mostly adventure stories about the Wild West. My mother was quite strict with what she let me read, and she’d never have allowed me to read them if they were immoral or un-Christian, in any way. Honestly, I can’t help but wonder if this kind of behavior is what drove his first wife away—”
“Wait—Mr. Hunt was married before?”
“Yes—I’m sorry, of course you wouldn’t know. He and his first wife, Sylvie, moved to Carville ten years ago. About five years ago, Sylvie left him and took a train back home to her family in Missouri. But she got sick on the train, and died not long after she arrived. Arlen claimed it was because she hated living out west—but what if she really just hated being cooped up by Arlen?”
Reverend Holden paused, his fingers to his lips, frowning in concentration. “The books you read—the ones Mr. Hunt has been keeping from you—they were about exciting pioneer life, correct?”
Nora nodded.
“Could it be that he felt he couldn’t measure up to the heroes in those books? That he felt the books raised your expectations of him, and your life here? That he feared you’d become unhappy here, as his first wife did, and leave?”
“No, that’s not—” She stopped. Was it possible? “But why would he think my books would make me want to leave? They were the same books I’ve always read. And what good would keeping me from the books do?”
“Is there any chance you expressed dissatisfaction with your life here?”
“I don’t think so. But…I suppose I was unhappy. Maybe I didn’t hide it as well as I thought.”
“Mrs. Hunt, if you don’t mind me saying so, I’d recommend you talk this over with your husband. I suspect that the loss of his first wife has a lot to do with your current situation. If that turns out not to be the problem, I’d be happy to meet with both of you, to help you work things out.”
“I don’t know if Arlen would agree to that…but I don’t think I’d get any worse reaction if I ask, than I did when I asked to go to the festival.”
“Try talking with him. It couldn’t hurt. But pray, and ask for God’s guidance before you do. And ask the Holy Spirit to give you the right words. I find that helps quite a bit, before undertaking a difficult conversation.”
“I will. Thank you.” For the first time, she felt hope—and for a moment, she forgot her fear over her daughter’s illness. “Can you pray with me? For Gwen and for my marriage?”
“Of course.”
They bowed their heads, and Nora listened as the young pastor-in-training murmured words of hope, consolation, and blessing.
Chapter 11
Arlen arrived at the train depot’s lot, launching himself off the horse and barely throwing the reins around the hitching post. He saw a few people milling about, so maybe she hadn’t left yet. But he knew Carville had two to three trains stop per day, because of the tourists from Denver who came to take the scenic Carville Loop through the mountains before returning to Denver.
Surely the train hasn’t come, he thought, his chest heaving. His heart felt as if vise-like fingers were squeezing it.
The feeling only intensified as he stalked down the platform and spied Nora. She was sitting on a bench beside a young man with sandy hair. They sat at opposite ends of the bench, but their heads were bowed toward one another, as if sharing secrets.
Erikson? he wondered, clenching his fists. He blinked back hot tears of rage. The man knows what it’s like to lose a wife—how could he steal my second wife away? Arlen took a deep breath and walked toward the bench, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey.
“Stand up,” he demanded, his right fist itching to pull back for the first punch.
Erikson lifted his head, eyes wide in surprise as he took in the fury marking Arlen’s face.
Only…it wasn’t Erikson.
It was a stranger. But one that seemed familiar. Then Arlen
caught sight of the white collar around the man’s neck. How had he missed the grey clerical suit? He took a step back, jaw slack. It was the new pastor, who had arrived to take over their church. “You!” he hissed. “You’re…you’re a minister! How could you? Who do you think you are, coming into town and stealing another man’s bride right out from underneath him?”
The reverend—Parker, was that it?—stood, glancing around in confusion and embarrassment as the people nearby turned their heads. “Mr. Hunt, please. I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”
“Well, there’s a ring right there on my wife’s finger,” Arlen pointed, “so I’m not sure how you could misunderstand. How did you even get her to leave me? You’ve only been in town two weeks. You sure do work fast!” He seethed with anger, and only Arlen’s respect for the collar stopped him from plowing his fist into the man’s face.
“Arlen, what are you doing?” Nora hissed, glancing around with reddened cheeks. “Have you been drinking?”
“What? Me? No!” he snapped. “But I should ask the same thing of you—what else but drink could drive a woman to abandon her husband and infant daughter to run off—”
Nora stood swiftly, then teetered, crying out. Parker held a hand out to steady her elbow, and Arlen’s demeanor cracked.
“Get your hands off her!” he growled.
“Your wife is injured, man! Can’t you see that?” Reverend Parker pointed to Nora’s foot, which she held aloft a few inches off the ground.
She reached out to Arlen, clutching his shirt and looking up into his eyes. “Gwen is ill! I’m not at the train station to leave you—I’m here to ask Mr. Lathum for a remedy!”
Arlen froze in place, staring down into her tear-filled eyes. “What do you mean, sick?”
“Didn’t you get the note I left? I went to Louise’s to ask if she could bring us to the doctor.” She lowered her voice. “You left me no choice—you hid the tack from me. I had to waste time walking there.”
“What—there was no note.” What kind of trick was she trying to play? Was it a distraction? Or could Gwendolyn really be sick?
“I left it on the table, facing the door.”
“I never saw it…but…I knew something was wrong with I saw the mess in the barn. I might have…”
“Thrown open the door?” she finished.
He nodded, color flooding his cheeks. “Then the reverend…?”
“Just came along and found her sitting here. She was in pain, from twisting her ankle, so I stayed with her, and when she told me about your daughter, I prayed with her.”
Arlen whipped his hat off, rubbing his arm over his face. He’d humiliated not only himself, but also his wife and the new pastor. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
“It’s alright,” Reverend Parker clapped him on the shoulder. “And I assure you, though your wife is a wonderful woman, I’m sure, I’m already engaged to another woman. In fact, that’s why I’m here—to buy her a train ticket.”
“I can’t believe I made such a mess of things,” Arlen said, shaking his head. Then terror seared through him. “Gwen—you said she was sick. How sick?”
“I don’t know. She was starting to have a hard time breathing when I left, and she wouldn’t eat. Didn’t you see her at Louise’s? You had to have been there, if you knew where to find me.”
“Louise said she had just gotten her to sleep. Then when she mentioned the train station…I lost my wits, I guess, and tore outta there.”
“If she’s sleeping, that could be a good sign,” Reverend Parker interjected.
“It could be,” Nora said, “or she could be getting worse.”
Arlen’s stomach clenched—he should have checked on his daughter instead of running off half-cocked. If anything happened to her…
A wagon rattled into the train depot’s lot at a fast clip.
“It’s Mr. Lathum!” Nora cried. “Arlen, help me.”
He looped her arm around his chest and threaded his arm around hers. By the time they had helped Nora to the wagon, Mr. Lathum was getting out. The chubby Mrs. Lathum sat in the wagon seat, a basket balanced on her knees.
“Bessie wanted to come along. She wants to make sure your daughter gets the remedy she needs.”
“I brought along the six that I think will be the most helpful. When I see her, I’ll know better what to use.”
“Lathum, I hate to ask, but I came into town on horseback…”
“Of course, take the wagon. I’d take you myself, but I have to work—”
“We’ll bring it back—and Mrs. Lathum, too—as soon as we can.”
“No, I can do it,” Reverend Parker said. “Mr. Hunt, you and your wife both brought horses that need to be brought back to your place.”
“That’s right! And I rode the poor beast so hard, I shouldn’t be tying him to the back of the wagon and forcing him to run up the mountain.”
“I’ll ride your horse, and tie Mrs. Hunt’s horse to the saddle. I’ve no great commitments today, so I can take it slow, and when I get there, I’ll drive Mrs. Lathum and the wagon back to town.”
“Oh, thank you, Reverend Parker!”
Nora pointed out Arlen’s horse and the Barclays’ horse that she’d ridden into town. Then Arlen relayed the directions to Louise’s house to the reverend while they all helped Nora into the back of the wagon. Once Arlen got in beside Mrs. Lathum, he released the brake and slapped the reins, circling the wagon and pulling out of the dirt lot.
Chapter 12
The ride back to Louise’s took even longer than the ride in, and Nora winced at the pain that each bump caused her ankle. She could feel it swelling in her boot, and she loosened the laces, but wouldn’t let Arlen slow down. Their baby needed them, and there was no time to waste.
When they arrived, Louise’s son Robert threw open the cabin door and ushered them in. Louise sat in the corner, rocking.
“She’s getting fussier,” Louise said over Gwen’s whimpering. She glanced down, seeing Nora hobbling in with Arlen’s assistance, and stood, letting Nora take the chair. She placed Gwen in Nora’s arms.
“Oh, my poor baby,” Nora crooned, stroking her face. “She’s so hot.”
“It seems very similar to the summer cold that Mary has, but it’s so much worse.”
“That’s not uncommon,” Mrs. Lathum said, setting her basket down on the table and pulling out bottles from the cotton napkins they were wrapped in. “This has been going around ever since the summer social. Someone brought a sick child, and next thing you know, everyone has it.”
“Has anyone else gotten this sick?”
“Not that I know of. She sounds a little raspy. I think this should do it.” Mrs. Lathum held a bottle of brown liquid aloft, then set it on the table. Rub a little bit of this on her chest every hour, and if the cough starts sounding like a barking cough, take her out into the night air. That should help. Just be sure to wrap her in a warm blanket if it’s chilly. You know how the night air can get up here.”
Nora pulled aside the summer blanket and unbuttoned Gwen’s gown. Then Mrs. Lathum spread a bit of the odorous liquid over Gwen’s chest, and put a folded napkin over it.
“We don’t want to ruin that pretty cotton sleeping gown,” she said with a smile.
“You think she’ll be alright?”
“I think so. It’s not as bad as I expected. If she gets worse, the doc should be back in town by sunset tonight, so you could bring her into town to see him, if necessary. But I think she’ll be alright.”
“Please, let us pay you for the remedy,” Arlen insisted, sticking a hand in his pocket.
“Absolutely not, Arlen Hunt. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that time you rousted those drunken miners out of my front garden. You chased them halfway down the street, and they found themselves somewhere else to sleep it off. If it weren’t for you, I’d have lost half of my herb harvest that season—which is exactly what I use to make these remedies, unless I harvest something out in the woods.
So if you pull that hand out of your pocket and there’s money in it, I’m going to be mighty angry.”
“Well then, I’ll just keep my hand in my pocket,” he grinned.
After a few minutes, Gwen’s breathing eased, and everyone left Nora alone in the cabin to try to nurse Gwen under a blanket.
Standing outside, Arlen, Mrs. Lathum, and Louise chatted as they watched Robert and Amelia go on a “rabbit hunt” in the bushes. Mary was napping inside. A few minutes later, Reverend Parker came trotting up on Arlen’s horse, with Louise’s trailing behind.
After he had dismounted and tied the horses to the hitching post, everyone greeted him and Arlen stuck out his hand.
“I’m grateful for your help, Reverend. Especially after the embarrassment I cause.”
Louise and Mrs. Lathum eyed Arlen with curiosity, but said nothing.
“Think nothing of it,” Reverend Parker replied, shaking Arlen’s hand. “But I would like to speak to you on another matter, if you don’t mind.” He gestured toward the front door, glancing at Louise. “May I?”
“Of course. Let me know if Mary wakes.”
Arlen stuck his head in the cabin. “Can the reverend and I come in yet, Nora?”
“Yes, we’re done in here. She’s fallen asleep.”
The two men stepped inside. Arlen was taken by the sight of Nora cradling Gwen in her arms, her eyes lit up with relief and love.
“Mrs. Hunt, I was thinking since I was here, and given what happened at the depot, perhaps I should stay and help you sort things out.”
Nora glanced at him, then Arlen, nervously. “Alright.”
The minister launched into an explanation of their conversation earlier. As he related all the details, Arlen could see the situation through the man’s eyes, rather than his own. I must look like the world’s worst husband, he thought. And maybe I am, keeping my poor wife cooped up like that.
Nora watched him with trepidation, but he could barely meet her eyes. “Nora…I can’t even muster the words. This has all been a huge mistake on my part. You never did anything wrong. You didn’t deserve anything I did. You expected an interesting, exciting life, and when you didn’t get it, you still hunkered down and did your duties. And what did I do? I kept you locked in the house like a prisoner.”
