“They were on the east end, too. There were four or five long wooden barracks, which had to house over a hundred men each. And each barrack had their own kitchen, mess hall, and outhouse buildings by them.”
“Where did you live, Holly?”
“There were buildings,” she looked around again, “probably south, southeast of the guardhouse. Married soldiers and their families, and the laundresses were in some of the buildings. I remember we lived in two rooms, one was a bedroom, and the other was our living area.”
“There had to be a sutler’s store. Do you remember it?”
“That was over by our quarters, as were big storehouses. I just can’t believe it is all gone.”
“You remember this better than I thought you would.”
“I think the Reagan’s talking about it refreshed my memory.”
Holly was searching the landscape again.
“The cavalry horses were stabled in buildings further west of the guardhouse. I don’t remember them, but there had to be pens or pasture for them to be outside part of the time.”
“So where’s the fort cemetery? I do not see a plot of tombstones anywhere.”
Maybe the Reagans should have ridden with them. They would have remembered the fort better being a generation older than he and Holly.
“It was a distance from the fort, but what direction?” Holly mused, looking stumped.
“The fort had to have had a hospital. Was it near that?” Nolan tried to jog Holly’s memory.
“No, I don’t think so. Drive over to where I said our housing was so I can think about this.”
Nolan turned the horse around and drove a ways until Holly motioned for him to stop. She stood up, letting the cold rush in around his legs as the blanket slipped off their laps.
It was eerie to be the lone people in the same spot where over two thousand people lived and worked less than twenty years ago.
The pastor talked about how Fort Harker was an important outpost along the Smoky Hill Trail, as well as the military road from Fort Riley to Fort Larned. Besides providing wagon train escorts, the soldiers were involved in the ongoing Indian wars during that early era of Kansas settlement.
After the railroad tracks reached the fort in ‘67, the fort’s role changed to a staging area where soldiers and teamsters left to supply forts further west. The fort was no longer needed and disbanded after the train tracks were built to Denver. Buildings were torn down so the lumber could be repurposed.
“Surely there was a road to it,” Nolan thought aloud. But, the area had been abandoned since then. A chilling thought crossed his mind. What kind of shape would the cemetery be in? It would mainly be filled with the victims of the cholera epidemic, which hit the fort in ‘67. The victims were probably buried side by side, as they died, instead of a normal cemetery where families were buried together in their own marked plots. Would there even be markers?
“Let’s drive in that direction.” Holly pointed south then sat back down beside him, pulling the blanket back across their laps.
They slowly traveled about a quarter mile from the fort, changing direction slightly west as Holly kept looking back to the guardhouse.
“I think that’s it, Holly.” Nolan pointed to a spot about twenty yards in front of them. “The ground looks uneven, and I see a few wooden crosses here and there.”
Nolan halted the horse when they covered the distance and pulled the brake against the buggy wheel.
Nolan prepared to climb down from the buggy but stopped when he realized Holly was sitting stock still, staring at the frozen plot of ground.
“Holly?”
“I can’t picture where they’re buried, Nolan. And there are just a few faded markers left.”
Nolan wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, silently trying to give her comfort.
“We can walk around and figure out the boundaries of the cemetery. With the snow on the ground, we can step off the individual rows of graves.”
“Nolan we don’t have to...”
“Yes, we do, Holly. I promised you I’d take you to your family’s graves.”
Nolan stepped down from the buggy and walked around the back end to help Holly down from her side. He wanted to pull her close, sharing his warmth and...feelings. But instead, he reached for her hand, enclosing it in his gloved hand to walk to the edge of the snow-covered plot.
“Any idea how many people are buried here?” Nolan asked, trying to figure out how far each direction the cemetery went.
“Pastor Reagan thought it had to be around two hundred graves. The cholera epidemic ran from June to the end of the year. Ruth died on November 30th, so she was one of the later graves from the epidemic.”
“Did she have a marker?”
Holly didn’t answer while she looked around the cemetery and walked to the first wooden marker. The paint had long faded from the crossed boards, not giving a hint who lay below the ground.
“Father put a new cross on Ruth’s grave to match Mother’s and Bertha’s before we left. That would have been in March...and I remember it was a cold day.”
They walked, hand in hand along a row of graves until they seemed to stop.
“Let me pace this out so we can tell where all the rows are.” Nolan dropped Holly’s hand and walked what was probably the depth of the cemetery. They had walked the first row lengthwise. Now it was clear where each aisle was once Nolan measured his steps between them.
Holly walked the next row while Nolan walked the next, their footsteps marking the cemetery in a grid.
“Stones! Look for piles of stones!” Holly exclaimed excitedly. “The ground was still partially frozen, and we piled stones around the two new crosses.”
“Some tribes mark graves with stone cairns. Other’s use a burial scaffold for above ground burials.” He’d seen both types while on trails through the territory. “Your father might have marked your mother’s grave with stones because of her heritage.”
Holly moved to stand in the middle of the cemetery, looking up and down the rows of graves.
“There. The snow has melted around a small pile of rocks...and... There’s the other grave, about three rows to the right.”
Her facial expressions changed from excitement over finding the rocks, to silent shock, realizing who laid below those rocks she’d just discovered. Her mother and sisters.
She stood stock still as Nolan brushed the snow from one rectangular grave and then the other, giving Holly the image of two distinct markers. Both piles of rocks matched, although there wasn’t a wooden marker now on either grave.
Nolan walked over to Holly, pulling her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She reached her hands to tightly hold his arms. He held her a long time as the whispering cold wind blew around them, trying to give her warmth as she grieved the loss of her family again.
A fierce wish of protecting Holly in the future filled Nolan’s heart. Was it because Holly had no one else in her life to do it, or was it a stronger feeling, maybe love growing in his heart for her?
“My mother’s last words to my father were ‘Don’t trap my spirit in the earth.’ Even though she was barely conscious she was begging him not to bury her.” Nolan turned Holly around and embraced her, as she sobbed into his chest. His face felt frozen with the tears dripping down his own face, but he couldn’t let go of her to wipe them away. Giving Holly comfort was more important than cold cheeks.
Holly finally pulled away and looked back to her mother’s grave. Her face was all red and splotchy from crying and soon would be cold, too.
“Father later explained that mother’s people preferred to be buried in a tree or left above ground for a length of time, so their spirit was free to leave. Burying the body in the ground right away trapped the spirit in the earth.”
“That was so long ago, and you were a young child. How can you remember that?”
“We talked about it before he died last year. That’s w
hy he played the violin at her grave. It was his way of calling her spirit up to the sky, and why…he wanted me…to play beside his grave…so they could be together again.”
“Oh, Holly,” was all Nolan could choke out as a new wave of sobs wracked Holly’s body.
Now he remembered scenes from his parent’s funerals, pulling him into his own past grief. And how long before he might be burying his grandparents? Why had he waited so long to come home? At least he was home now to take care of them.
But who would take care of Holly? How about me? I want to because I’m falling in love with her.
Kaitlyn had thoughtfully left plates of food on her kitchen table and a note saying they were both at the parsonage if they needed them.
Nolan was sure Pastor probably dragged Kaitlyn over there, thinking Holly might need some quiet time alone instead of Kaitlyn’s smothering. Actually, Nolan wasn’t sure which would have been best.
Holly played her violin in the cemetery until her fingers were too numb to push down the strings, but it seemed to satisfy her. Nolan promised he’d make new markers before their next trip to the cemetery. Actually, instead of making them himself, he was going to talk to the blacksmith about fashioning iron crosses for the graves. If the blacksmith wasn’t busy, maybe he could get them finished by Christmas. He could drive Holly out to the cemetery on Christmas Day if the weather were nice.
“You missed a spot!” Gramps grumbled as he sat at the kitchen table watching Nolan blacken the kitchen stove. Holly had insisted they start cleaning his grandparent’s house, even though it had to be hard for Holly to go from the silent graves of her family to a harping ungrateful man who clearly didn’t want her in his house.
“All right. I’ll rub it again.”
“Where’d that woman go? Don’t know why she’s here anyway.” His grandfather stomped his cane on the wood floor to emphasize his point.
“Grandma needs help catching up on the housework, and Miss Brandt is helping her. They’re cleaning the front rooms.” And Nolan was trying to clean the kitchen up to Grampa’s standards. For not seeing some things clearly, he sure noticed anything Nolan missed.
Fortunately, his grandmother had seemed relieved for the help, and Nolan could hear them quietly talking in the other room. When Holly had taken their rugs outside to hang and air out on the clothesline, Nolan told his grandparents about their morning trip. It had softened his grandmother’s heart to Holly, but his grandfather continued to ignore her, or talk gruffly towards her.
Remember thinking this morning you were so grateful your grandparents were still alive? Nolan knew it was going to be an adjustment for all of them, but the rewards would be worth it...once the house was clean and they got into a routine.
Now Nolan was worried about the café. Obviously, his grandfather couldn’t help anymore. Would he sit in the kitchen anyway, telling Nolan how to do everything? Nolan took a deep breath and said a silent prayer for patience.
“Knock, knock! Anyone home?” A woman had just opened and walked in the front door. He wasn’t sure since he was in the kitchen but it sounded like...Mary.
His grandmother walked into the kitchen trailed by Mary and apparently her two children. Holly reluctantly followed the group into the room.
“Dan, look who’s here, and with a cherry pie,” his grandma sweetly announced.
“Well if it isn’t three of my favorite people with my favorite dessert!” Nolan was shocked by his grandfather’s change in demeanor.
“Come here and sit on your grandpa’s lap,” he motioned to the children.
Grandpa?
“Nolan, I’d like you to meet my children, Burdette and Nolan.” Both children said a shy hello to Nolan, but both stole glances at Holly who stood in the doorway.
“Nice to meet you, too, children. This is my friend, Miss Brandt.” Nolan reached toward Holly hoping she’d walk toward him, but she chose to stay by the door and said her “hello” from there.
After his grandfather whispered something in the boy’s ear, little Nolan jumped off his lap and stood in front of Nolan.
“Grandpa says you’re my new poppa, ‘cause we have the same name!” The child’s words shocked Nolan.
“What? No, Nolan. I can’t be your father, because I’m not married to your mother.” Nolan quickly glanced around the room seeing smiles on everyone’s face except for Holly.
“Then get married!” The boy jumped up and down, excited he’d thought of the solution all by himself.
It became crystal clear his grandparents had planned this reunion between him and Mary. And they thought it would be easier by involving Mary’s children to sway the outcome.
Holly sadly looked at Mary and her children before slipping out of the kitchen. Why did she leave? Was she afraid he would choose Mary and the children over her?
He’d much rather be planning a wedding to...Holly instead of Mary. He looked back at Mary, who had a questioning smile on her face. Was Mary hoping he’d ask her to marry him or had she realized he had feelings for Holly?
After an awkward silence between the adults, Mary motioned her children to her side. “Well, it looks like you’re busy so we’ll leave. Enjoy the pie.”
“Thank you, Mary. I’ll walk you to the door,” his grandma politely said as she carefully walked out of the kitchen behind the children.
Nolan attacked the stove with renewed vigor. Maybe it did need another rubdown of stove blacking. The obvious rust showed it hadn’t be cleaned weekly, as it should have been.
“Mary would make a good wife, Nolan. And you’d already have the start of a family, even a Nolan Junior.”
“Right now I want to concentrate on helping you and getting the café open again.” Nolan rubbed harder on a now non-existent spot of rust.
“You loved her years ago.” True, but did he love her now? It wasn’t the same as what he felt for Holly though now.
“Our lives have changed Gramps, and I don’t see our paths crossing more than seeing each other at church on Sunday.” Was that clear enough for his grandfather, without telling him to mind his own business?
Nolan stood up and rolled his shoulders. “The stove is looking better. I’ll put these cleaning supplies away and check on Holly.” Nolan picked up the rag and tin of blacking and walked out the back door without saying another word to his grandfather. He needed a few minutes of cold air to blast the heat in his building temper, and talk with the hurt woman who mistook a conversation his grandfather initiated.
It didn’t surprise Nolan that Holly was taking out this afternoon’s frustration on the rugs hanging on the clothesline. She might have been thinking about swinging the rug beater at his grandfather’s head the way she was beating the current rug.
“Holly, I’m sorry but...”
“No, don’t say a word.” She whacked the rug one more time before handing him the beater and wrapping her arms around her waist.
“I’ll look for another job. I’m sure the Reagans can help me out.”
“What are you talking about? I thought we’d start working at the café this evening?”
“Obviously your grandfather doesn’t want me in his house or his café. He wants Mary, Burdette, and Nolan Junior by your side instead.”
Was Holly jealous of Mary? The thought made him smile at first, but then made him sad. Mary wore pretty clothes, had a nice place to live, a new store about to open, and white skin. Nolan didn’t even think about Holly’s skin color. Why did other people? Her soul was what was important, not the signs of her heritage, which he wished she’d be proud of anyway. But that was hard to do with all the strife between the native and white nations in the past, and at times, still in the present according to some people.
Holly was trembling. She had her cape on and had been beating a rug so she couldn’t be cold.
Nolan wanted to knock his forehead. Holly was exhausted and overwhelmed from this entire week of travel and change, without a decent night’s sleep. The emotions of this morning
would overwhelm anyone, and then this afternoon she was cleaning a house for someone who didn’t want her there.
How could he be so blind to her distress? And then he just said they’d start cleaning the café next?
What was that Swedish word Mrs. Hamner always said for “jackass”? Dumskalle! Yep, that’s what he was today, and it was time to apologize.
Nolan tossed the rug beater on the ground and wrapped his arms around Holly’s shoulders.
“I’m so sorry for asking you to help with my grandparents today, Holly. You needed time to reflect on this morning, or just sleep.”
He laid his cheek against the top of her head while he waited for her to stop trembling.
“I can’t imagine running the café without you though. Please try it. I know my grandfather will be upset if we change anything in his kitchen, but he’ll come around, and be proud it’s open again.”
“Nolan...”
“And we won’t start in the café until Monday. Sleep all you want tomorrow, take a long hot bath, play your violin, whatever you feel like.”
“What about Sunday?”
“Expect Kaitlyn to proudly introduce you to everyone in the church, and to be the guest of honor at her Sunday dinner. In other words, you need tomorrow, to rest up for Sunday.”
Holly gave a resigned sigh against his chest, warming his heart, knowing she just agreed. Nolan gave her a soft kiss on her forehead before turning her toward the house. Let’s get your hat and reticule from the house, and I’ll walk you over to the parsonage.”
As soon as Nolan opened the parsonage door and Holly saw Kaitlyn’s outstretched arms, the tears started to flow, from both women. Nolan backed out the door without saying a word. It saddened him to see Holly in such a state, but Kaitlyn was the right person to guide Holly toward the healing she needed.
What about the future? Did he want to be the one Holly turned to?
Chapter 12
Friday afternoon, after a long talk with Kaitlyn, while sipping hot chocolate, the woman sent her to bed with a warmed brick for her feet and a hot water bottle to hug. Holly slept until her bladder protested at nine o’clock the next morning.
Grooms with Honor Series, Books 7-9 Page 22
