I watched him until he disappeared over the horizon. I continued to stare down the road, hoping against hope that something would turn him around and bring him back to me. Finally, darkness fell and I was driven inside. Mrs. Reynolds had prepared a lone dinner for me, but I had no appetite and went to bed without supper.
I did not go to my room but went to his instead. I held his shirts in my hand and smelled them. I slipped his heavy jacket over my shoulders and dreamed that it was Henry who held me tight. I fell asleep on his bed, smelling his sheets and burying my face in his pillows.
Each day that passed was a torment. The days were slow and we struggled to handle the ranch in his absence. I went out early in the morning to herd the cattle, moving them to greener pastures. They were dumb beasts and at first I had nothing but trouble. They were obstinate and stubborn and would not listen to me. Thankfully they would listen to the dogs. It took a few days, but after a while, I learned how to intimidate the cattle. They were five times as large as I was, but when I blocked their path it was they who went around me. It was a strange sensation the first time a cow went where I wanted her to. But it was a proud one none the less.
I worked the horses and directed the farm hands, as days turned into weeks. They were good and sturdy men. They did not question that I, a woman, would have a say in the things. They knew that we were all in this together. We didn't have to run the farm forever, just until Henry came home.
My childhood at the orphanage had prepared me well. Rising at dawn and toiling until night were not strange concepts to me. I tried to focus on work, hoping it would distract me into forgetting him. But there was no success. I daydreamed about him under the sun and longed for him when the moon reigned.
I prayed for some form of news. But the only thing we heard from the posse was gossip. Sometimes we were told that all were alive and tracking the bandits to the west. Then next we heard that a river crossing that had turned dangerous and three had died, though no one knew the names. It was a small town and the gossip traveled fast, but none of it could be trusted.
Every time we saw a strange figure on the horizon, I was sure that it was a messenger coming to tell us the worst had happened. But we were not even granted that. There was no real news from the posse, just empty gossip peddled by troublemakers in town. We existed in purgatory always waiting and working, but never getting anywhere.
I became sick. Everything turned my stomach. Mrs. Reynolds reminded me that I must eat, but the smell of anything cooking made me wretch. For two weeks straight I woke up in the morning and was almost immediately sick. It was until my breasts became tender and sore that I began to hope and wonder at what might be occurring.
I counted the days that passed, keeping my secret until I was sure. Mrs. Reynolds knew even before I did. She stocked the house with things I would need: ginger to settle my stomach and meat to give me strength. I put my hands on my stomach and wondered if it was true, if I could be that lucky. Did Henry’s child grow within me?
So much had changed in such a short time. The orphanage seemed very far away, my time there another life. I took the time to write letters to the Mother Superior and Sarah. I begged them to pray for the baby and for Henry. I thought back to my childhood home. It would be cold there now. The days would be short and the nights long. It would be silent in the forest, just the sound of the wind in the trees and occasional caw of a crow.
This place had a different sort of silence. There was always some noise from the ranch. There was always the lowing of a cow, the whinny from a sleeping horse or the sound of the brook babbling over the property.
It sounded like home. This place had become home. It hadn't happened immediately upon my marriage to Henry but had slowly taken root the past few weeks. Somewhere in that time this house and the people in it had come to be home.
Two weeks became three and still there was no news. I needed to tell Henry, he had to know that I carried his child. But there was no way to get in touch with the men. The last anyone had heard, they were on a mountain pass more than twenty miles to the north, hot on the trail of Marlon and his goons.
My knees ached from prayer. I begged God to watch over Henry, to bring him home for me. I reminded myself that God had brought me here and I had to trust that He would continue to shine His light on me.
It had been forty-two days since Henry had left. I was asleep in his bed, dreaming I was lost in the desert looking for him. I was searching through tough scrub and dark caves calling his name. In the dream, my stomach was bulging out, the baby almost ready to be born.
I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. It was him! It had to be.
I turned around in my dream while in the waking world a hand gently shook my shoulder.
“Theresa,” he whispered.
My eyes blinked open and there he was, illuminated by the moonlight. For a moment, I was sure he was a ghost. But no, the hand caressing my cheek was real. I could feel its warmth. I sat up and touched his face, stroking his rough cheek. It was Henry, he looked rough and dusty and tired, but it was him.
“You’re back?” I whispered.
He nodded and said, “We did it. We got them, all of them. We’re safe now.”
I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him flush against me. His arms came up to stroke my back and tears poured down my cheeks. He was here. It was really him. Those were his strong arms. That was his scent I was breathing in.
“Don’t ever leave again,” I said, holding him tightly to me.
“Never,” he replied.
*****
THE END
Bonus Book 2: Bride of the Gold Rush
By: Faith Crawford
Description
A mail order bride, her handsome prospective husband and a blonde competitor for his love... Will Cara keep her man?
Cara, a pretty, voluptuous and vivacious young woman from a poor family with thirteen children that lives in County Cork, Ireland, is forced to migrate to America, so that she can send home money to her family. She travels for a month on a steamship to Boston, USA. In the city of Boston, Cara finds work as a maid and sends home money.
She is homesick for Ireland, but has to remain in America, especially when the potato blight affects crops in Ireland. After a while she finds out about mail order bride catalogs, and decides to marry a man in the West. She meets Aidan via the mail order bride catalog. Aidan, originally from Galway in Ireland, is tall and handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes. So Cara takes the Oregon Trail out West.
The California Gold Rush occurs just around the time that Cara joins Aidan, and they both pan for gold alongside others. At first Cara thinks that she can get married at once, but there are obstacles in the path towards married bliss—one of them being a blonde vixen who has set her sights on Cara’s man…
Chapter One
The clear notes of the melodious song filled the air on a beautiful morning in May, while the lush emerald Irish countryside, with its mystical oak groves, basked in cheerful sunbeams:
“As she onward sped I shook my head
And I gazed with a feeling rare
And I said, says I, to a passerby
"Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?"
He smiled at me, and with pride says he,
‘That's the gem of Ireland's crown.
She's young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann
She's the star of the County Down.’”
Cara bent forward from the waist and rose again, pulling the bucket out of the well, her long brown tresses flowing over her shoulders. There was a dreamy expression on her rather pretty heart-shaped face with its crystal-clear blue eyes, as she warbled the popular Irish ballad. She imagined herself to be the country girl in the song, who becomes a young man’s obsession. She as yet had not met a swain whom she fancied enough to consider marrying, but she yearned to one day meet the one with whom she would want to spend the rest of her days. Her romantic daydreams were interrupted when she heard her mothe
r calling her.
“Cara, hurry, I have some news for ye.”
“Yes, mama, just a moment,” Cara replied.
She quickly set the heavy bucket down at the side of the farmhouse and rushed indoors, out of breath.
“Cara, here’s a letter from Uncle Liam in America,” said her mother. “He says that ye shall join him in Boston, there is plenty of work there for a young woman like ye, a hard worker, used to honest labor on a farm.”
“But Mama, why would I travel as far away as America?” Cara wailed.
“Now Cara,” said Sheena, her mother, “Don’t ye understand that we lost part of our land to the Sweeneys, and we have to depend on upon Uncle Liam’s kindness? Ye must join him in America, work hard and send us your wages. Besides, you know that we cannot afford a dowry for ye. You have 12 brothers and sisters, and we have no extra money with so many mouths to feed. Eileen and Moira will look after the children when ye are in America, they’re both past their sixteenth year. We are so lucky to have a relative who lives in America who can help us.”
Cara pouted. “Mama, can’t I work in Dublin town?”
“Cara, ye know that there are very few jobs in Dublin. The Americans pay much more. How can ye support a family as large as ours on Dublin wages? Ye must set sail soon, Cara, if ye love yer kin. Papa and I have already arranged for yer berth on the ship “Queen Empress,” docked in Belfast,” her mother said firmly.
Cara read the letter and wiped tears from her eyes. She went to the bedroom in a downcast mood, to pen a reply to Liam, her mother’s cherished brother. She looked out the window at the beloved landscape with its lush green meadows, listening to the melodic chirping of a sparrow in the hedge next to the house. She wrote, sniffling while her tears flowed, dabbing her eyes with a white handkerchief that she had embroidered with realistic-looking red roses in the winter, during an hour of leisure.
Dear Uncle Liam,
I am ready to set sail soon on the next ship. I look forward very much to seeing you again after so many years. I am all grown up now, and a hard worker. You say that there are many positions available in rich households for an industrious maid and that one can make a pretty penny In Boston. I very much hope that I will have fellow Irishwomen and men to befriend when I get there… I hope that the gentlefolk who live in Boston will be like the kind ladies at the manor in County Cork. I once went to have tea with them. They were so nice to me and complimented me on my appearance.
I will make my way to Belfast, and take the “Queen Empress”. It is docked at the harbor and I should reach it in time to set sail. Please be at the harbor in Boston waiting to greet me, as I could not bear to be alone in the New World without any old friends or kin. I will start looking for work as soon as I arrive.
With heartfelt thanks,
Truly yours,
Cara Sullivan
“Cara, go into town to send the letter off from the post office,” her mother said, peering over her shoulder.
“Yes, mama,” said Cara. She let the ink dry and then placed the letter in an envelope. She put on her bonnet and her Sunday clothes, and made her way to town on the pony.
As she rode into the town, she noticed that Peter Collins, an old chum from the days when she sat with other pupils of all ages in the one-room wooden schoolhouse, was walking down the street near the post office. She hailed him.
“Peter, how is my old friend?”
“Why, who would have thought that I would encounter the greatest beauty in all of County Cork, Cara Sullivan, here in the middle of the morning,” Peter exclaimed.
Cara smiled before reporting the news.
“I have sad news, Peter, I shall be leaving Ireland soon to join my uncle in America.”
“Oh, no, that’s terrible news, knowing you, you will miss Old Eire sorely,” Peter commiserated.
“Well I have a duty to my kin, I must provide for my family by laboring in America,” Cara said, lifting her chin firmly and trying to feel brave.
“Good girl, that’s the spirit,” said Peter, admiring the shape of her small but firm chin, and her pretty nose in profile. “Wish you the best of luck in America. Maybe you will become rich and famous in the New World,” he added, although he secretly thought that there was very little chance of that.
He had heard that the streets were not paved with gold in America after all, and that life there could be full of hard drudgery for a penurious Irish immigrant. But he did not want to make Cara feel depressed, so he said nothing. He accompanied her to the post office, where they chatted with the postal worker, who was a mine of information about America and about the ship in Belfast.
“Ah yes, America, many a friend of mine has sought their fortune there,” said Danny, the postmaster. “I often didn’t hear from them for years at first, and some of them eventually sent me some pictures taken at a studio in New York City. They looked well-fed and well-dressed and said that they worked in the textile industry,” Danny reported.
After conversing with Danny and Peter for half an hour, it was time to go home.
“Goodbye, Danny, goodbye, God bless,” she said tearfully as she took up the reins and clip-clopped down the street, away from the post office. Danny ran alongside her, shook her hand emotionally, and called after her.
“Write to me, won’t you…”
“I promise to,” she said through her tears. She watched her friend dwindle in the distance, as the pony trotted along.
“Where have ye been, dear, for so long,” her mother complained. “You must help me prepare supper.”
“Yes, mother,” Cara said, with downcast eyes, preferring not to mention that she had been spending her time gossiping. Cara set to work on the oatmeal bannocks and the corned beef with cabbage.
Chapter Two
The town of Belfast was full of light and sounds unfamiliar to Cara. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. She was staying at the Cock’s Crow Inn, a rather musty old establishment that was more than a hundred years old, with a large weather vane in the shape of a cockerel creaking in the wind above the main entrance. In the evening, the people staying at the inn hoisted foaming tankards of dark ale and some narrated bawdy jokes in a low voice so that the ladies would not hear. Cara felt disapproval and decided to go to bed early to avoid too much interaction with the crowd at the inn. The bed where she slept, sharing a room with another young woman, was soft with a feather bed. It was much more luxurious than the simple large bed at home, where she slept next to her sisters and brothers. As usual, Cara fell into a deep restful sleep a few minutes after she rested her head on the pillow.
At around 2 AM she awoke with a start, to find her roommate groping her way to the other bed with a candle, quite inebriated.
“Why, sorry to wake yer up, dear soul,” said the young woman, “I was having such a good time, the time flew by and it was passed midnight before I knew it.”
“Not to worry,” said Cara, turning around so that the bulrush light would not shine in her eyes. She fell fast asleep again in a few moments and was spared listening to her roommate’s loud snoring. The young lady fell into a drunken stupor quite soon after extinguishing the light and falling into bed with a loud sigh.
The next morning, after paying the innkeeper, Cara made her way to the docked “Queen Empress”. She felt heavy of heart, remembering the tearful goodbyes on the farm a short while ago. How mother and father had cried, and the children had clung sobbing to her skirts. It had been a woeful day, the saddest day in her life. As she boarded the ship, she looked back at the city and tried to imprint the image forever on her memory.
Will I ever see Ireland and my kith and kin again, she thought wistfully. Suddenly a familiar face emerged in the crowd at the dock. It was Peter.
“Oh, Peter,” she cried, “You came all the way to Belfast to say goodbye.”
“Oh Cara, I couldn’t let you leave without giving you a present and telling you that I always had a soft spot in my heart for you…” said Pet
er, as he boarded the ship with a bouquet.
“Peter, that is such kindness, I shall always remember it and I greatly appreciate your fondness for me,” she said, flustered, as she took the bouquet of fresh, dewy red roses that he handed her.
She smelled the roses’ sweet scent, overcome with emotion and even embarrassment. She decided that she must write to him, but in no uncertain terms must impress upon him that she did not reciprocate the depth of his feelings for her and had always only thought of him as a friend.
“I must go now before the ship sets sail,” said Peter, as the ship’s horn tooted.
As the ship moved away from the town, Cara waved her handkerchief with the roses at Peter, quite overcome with emotion. She could see the town receding through her tears, Peter’s face becoming smaller and smaller, till she could no longer distinguish it in the crowd at the dock.
Cara stayed near the railing, gazing towards the land, determined to keep on gazing at it till it was no longer visible. The steamship’s horn tooted again with a melancholy sound, and the sun shone on the vessel, the same sun that would be shining in Boston.
After an hour spent lost in melancholy thoughts, standing at the ship’s railing and gazing at her native land, Cara turned around and slowly ambled to the ship’s dining room. She shared a cabin with five other women and was allowed to eat in the dining hall. In all her twenty years, she had never felt so strange. There was a sense of disjointedness as if the world was topsy-turvy. She knew that she would soon be starting a new life and that it could be difficult and possibly even fraught with perils. She felt lonely, and already missed her family sorely.
[2016] The Precious Amish Baby Page 10
