The Girl Called Ella Dessa: Will she ever be cherished for the inner beauty beneath her scars?

by Karen Campbell Prough

  “Well? You could be a storyteller.”

  “Not storytelling. We’ve seen that wolf and heard him. He’s lame. We had another ewe disappear. Duncan thinks the wolf got it. He saw deep tracks and fresh blood.”

  She shuddered but kept her eyes on his face. She noticed how his blond hair curled over his ears and down his neck. “Then, I’m glad you’re here and safe.”

  “Me, too.” His intent gaze held hers.

  “We can talk.” She never realized how his jaw line reminded her of Jim’s, but his green eyes, with their light wash of blue, were all his own. His looks stood out from the rest of his family. Duncan’s eyes were a sharp green with no softness.

  “I like this … talking to you alone. You know we’re both thirteen, now.” He pointed at her and then his own chest. “You and me. But I’m older—closer to fourteen.”

  “Yes, of course.” Her eyes didn’t waver. Her heart rate quickened. She tried to think of something commonplace to say, to keep him talking.

  “Ella Dessa?” He made a slight movement as if to reach toward her hand.

  She lifted her hand and smoothed her hair. “Why don’t you put your poor horse in the barn?” Her actions and words broke the delicate seconds between them.

  “Hmm, I will.” His voice took on an adult tone. “You should get some sleep, in case Rosemary wakes up. I’ll sit here and feed the fire. We can’t have anyone else getting sick.”

  “I’m not sleepy.” She instantly realized all her weariness had fled. Everyone was quiet and bedded down. The world seemed tranquil and near perfect. She wanted to talk to Samuel and watch him smile.

  “You’re not?”

  “No.”

  Samuel chuckled, but he covered his mouth when Rosemary cried out from her bed. They both raised their eyebrows and stared into each other’s eyes—waiting—but the toddler didn’t fuss again.

  Within the flickering firelight, Ella could see the girl’s babyish arms hugging a cloth doll. She placed a finger to her lips. “Shh. We better whisper.”

  “I think I like that idea.”

  “Want the last piece of pumpkin bread?” She ignored softness in his words.

  Samuel nodded. “I’ll share with you.”

  She got the bread, smeared it with a generous glob of butter, and brought it to the hearth. Facing him, she sat with her legs crossed and tucked under her skirt. The toes of her heavy boots protruded. She broke the thick slice into two pieces and handed him the largest one. “I could eat this all day.”

  “Yep.” He bit into his piece and licked butter off his fingertips, seemingly relishing every bit of the taste.

  “I wasn’t allowed to do that.” She watched him and grinned. “Pa forbid it. Mama didn’t.”

  He shifted his position until their bent knees touched. “You miss your mother.” His boyish face showed hints of the handsome, mature image he would someday have.

  She bowed her head. “Yes, more all the time.” She stared at where the hem of her brown skirt encountered his pants leg—dark brown against washed-out brown. Her skirt material was the dull brown. “My life is … colorless.” In most ways, her whole life seemed tedious. It was without any color.

  “Colorless?”

  “Hmm, like snow.” She knew he waited for her to continue. She could almost feel his inquisitive eyes searching her face and scarred neck. She had no need to cover the nasty scars—she felt safe from embarrassment in his presence.

  “Snow can be beautiful. Breathtaking. You’re just lonely. You are far from colorless. Can you believe me?”

  “Yes.” She hated to voice her inner feelings out loud. Samuel’s gentle qualities eased her qualms.

  “What’s one thing you wish for?”

  Her fingers plucked at a loose thread on the seam of her skirt—her mama’s skirt. Waves of longing washed over her. “I wish I could go visit Mama’s grave. I haven’t been back, since I were to your house. Seems like forever. I felt close to her when I knelt by her grave.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, determined not to cry in front of him.

  “I know. I figured that out when Jim and I came to get you. Here’s one of my wishes.” He paused. “I wish … I could take you to visit her resting place.” He pointed at his chest. “Me. I want to.”

  “Really?” Her heart tripped in her chest and tears welled in her eyes. No one had even offered to take her back to the cabin for a visit.

  “Let’s plan a hike one day, when the weather’s good.”

  “Thank you.” She dried tears with the back of her hand. “I thought I’d have to wait ‘til Gust came home. I don’t know how long that’ll be.”

  A guarded expression flitted across his face. His gaze faltered and shifted to the fire.

  “What is it?” She bent toward him and tried to decipher what she read on his face. She tapped her finger on his left boot. “Samuel?”

  “Ella Dessa, men talk.”

  “So?”

  He fiddled with the piece of bread in his hand. “They say Gust intended to walk away from Velma and the children—right from the start—once he got them settled. He wanted to be close to the gold mines. He never planned to farm or hunt. He ain’t that type.”

  “That’s awful. Is it true?”

  “Men saw him in Lick Log the first couple of weeks after he left here. They told it around the cove how he bragged about his gold findings. He said he found deposits south of here on an unnamed creek near Auraria.”

  “Then—that’s good.” She threw her hands wide and motioned at the drab room. “They need lots of things, even besides food. If he found gold, it’ll help.”

  “They think he’s a liar. He didn’t show them any gold. They say gold makes men do crazy things. They sneak in on other people’s land and mines, get what gold they can, and disappear. Drink it up at a tavern.”

  She nodded. Her thoughts briefly went to the gold her pa had taken from her mama’s trunk—Miles Kilbride’s gold. “Velma believes he’ll come back,” she whispered.

  “Well, a couple of men at Grace’s wedding got to talking after Velma left. I sat and listened. Last week they made a trip to Lick Log—I mean Dahlonega—for supplies. There’s now a lot of stores and buildings. They asked about Gust. He wasn’t to be seen. No one thereabouts could remember hearing his name or seeing him for weeks during November. He’s disappeared. They aren’t telling Velma, yet.”

  “Gold or no gold, he shouldn’t have left his family.”

  “You’re right.” Samuel’s gentle eyes echoed the resonance of his voice. “I wouldn’t ever do that to my wife.”

  “You don’t have a wife.” She covered her mouth and giggled at her own silly response.

  He rolled his eyes and popped the last bit of bread into his mouth. Swallowing, he nudged her boot with his. “Stop laughing at me.”

  “You sounded so serious.” She fought a grin and forced a deep frown instead.

  “I was serious.” He waved his hand and swept crumbs off his pants leg. “Dead serious.”

  “That’s mighty serious.”

  She broke her remaining piece of pumpkin bread into two bites and offered him one on the palm of her hand. Her pulse sped up as his fingers touched her hand with a light pressure. She met his fantastic eyes and noticed the solemn way he nodded his thanks.

  She knew Samuel meant what he said. He’d never leave his future wife and family—not the way her pa slinked off or how Gust disappeared. Samuel would be a man of his word and honest in all things possible.

  She fought the crazy desire to have him touch her hand once more. It didn’t make sense. She liked Jim—not Samuel. Suddenly, she unfolded her cramped legs. “I guess I better try to sleep, in case Rosemary gets worse. Go tend to your horse.” She rose and shook fine crumbs from her wrinkled skirt. “I’ll place a couple of quilts here on the floor for you.”

  “Thanks, I won’t be long.” He stood and stretched, hands reaching high above his head. “I’ll stay up for a short time and keep the fi
re.”

  “Good night, Samuel.” She walked toward the pile of blankets in the colder corner of the dim room.

  “Night.”

  Quietly, she removed her boots and slipped under the covers with Carrie. She tucked her brown skirt tight to her legs for warmth. Unwillingly, she closed her eyes and gave into the fatigue she felt. Shivering, after sitting so close to the hot flames, she forced herself to stay still until the layer of blankets warmed her. She needed sleep and felt it softly washing over her.

  “Ella Dessa?”

  Startled awake, she rolled over, and stared at Carrie’s silhouette. Groggy, she swept her messy hair out of her eyes. “What is it?” she whispered.

  Carrie’s face shone with streaks of tears. “I awoke an’ feared you left us.”

  “No, I’m here.”

  “But I saw him.”

  “Samuel?”

  “Yes. He’s by the fire.”

  “He won’t hurt you.” She encircled the girl’s left wrist with her fingers. She felt a companionship with the child—despite their age difference.

  “I got skeered.”

  “Shut your eyes, I’m here.”

  She saw Samuel peek their way. Ella knew he heard the murmur of their voices but couldn’t see her open eyes in the dark. If she didn’t move, he’d think she slept, even though sleep had fled.

  Samuel became a quiet statue. He sat and stared into the fire. His sandy-colored hair caught the fire’s fickle light. The flames danced and created strange shadows that leapt and crept along the walls.

  What was Samuel thinking? Why did she care?

  Ella pressed her fingertips to her forehead and longed to go back to sleep, but two faces seemed etched on the backside of her eyelids. The faces belonged to brothers, each as different as their physical appearance— one fair with blue-tinted green eyes, the other darker haired with unusual gray eyes. The younger brother was humorous, more childlike, and tenderhearted. The older one was serious, handsome, and a hard worker. Each of them now filled a void in her heart.

  Chapter 23

  It was three in the morning before Ella slipped from her blankets. Samuel rolled into one of the quilts she provided for him. At seven o’clock, he still slept as she prepared a simple breakfast. Remy awoke first and crawled off his mother’s bed. He immediately pestered Ella to eat and hovered over thick bacon frying in the pan.

  She ran her fingers through his feathery brown hair. “Need to wait for the others.”

  “I’m hungry now.”

  “Go change into clean clothes if’n you have any. Then you can eat.”

  Velma sat up. The cornhusk mattress rustled with her movements. “I don’t thinks I can stand to stay in this bed today. I’ll go raving mad like a rabid skunk. It’s not in my blood to laze around.”

  At the sound of her voice, Mae and Scott stirred. Mae yawned and rubbed her nose. Scott groaned and covered his head.

  Rosemary woke with a coughing spell, and Ella walked over to pat the little girl’s back. “By the sounds of things, it won’t be a quiet day.”

  “Is it ever?” Velma threw back the wrinkled quilt and scooted past Mae. “I’m finished with this bed stuff.” Her night shift pulled up along her skinny, blue-veined thighs.

  “Let me draw the curtain. Samuel’s still here. Sleeping yonder on the floor.”

  “Oh, did he set up, too?”

  “Part of the night.” She shook off the instant guilt she felt. “While I got a bit of rest.”

  “That was sweet of him.”

  “Are you sure about gettin’ up?” She watched Velma stand, bend forward, and remain motionless, with her long-fingered hands cupped protectively under her rounded belly.

  “Yes, I’ll moves careful.” She reached for a gray dress hanging on a peg near the bed and sighed. “I can’t abides that bed no more. I’m fine. I’ll slip this on and join you for breakfast.”

  “I’ll worry.”

  “Don’t, Ella Dessa. This is my decision. I’ve no husband here to tend to things. I must help care for my livin’ babies and leave the unborn in God’s capable hands. An’ I thinks God approves of such a thing. Don’t you?”

  “I s’pose,” Ella murmured, unnerved by the conversation. “I’ll be by the fire.” She carried Rosemary with her. Remy sat at the table with a spoon in his hand. Carrie stood bent over the pan at the fireplace, turning the bacon.

  “Carrie’s helpin’.” Remy hit his spoon handle on the table. “Make her hurry.”

  “Oh, Carrie, I didn’t hear you. How you feelin’ this morning?”

  The girl shrugged her shoulders and kept her head bowed. “I’m fine. Not sickly.” Her stringy hair hid her face from view. “I figgerd you needed help cookin’ this, and Remy was thinkin’ he’d help hisself. How’s Mama?”

  “She’s dressing.”

  “She is?” Carrie’s eyes clouded with worry. “She shouldn’t.”

  “She wants to.” She placed Rosemary on the bench beside Remy and took the wooden fork from Carrie. “It’s done. Let me lift it. How about you? You ready to eat? I think the porridge is done.”

  “Yes’um.” She slid onto the bench across from Rosemary and Remy.

  “Do we have milk?” Remy wiggled expectantly.

  “Oh, I didn’t even think of that. No.” Ella’s shoulders drooped. “They’ve dried up. I need to tend to them. I forgot everythin’ last night.”

  Samuel rolled out of his blanket and staggered to his feet. “I forked fodder to them last night, when I stabled my horse.” He rubbed a hand across his face and messy hair. “Ohh, did I sleep at all? What was that banging?”

  “Me!” Remy shouted, waving his spoon. “See?”

  “You slept near about four hours.” Ella laid a hand on Remy’s arm. “Stop.”

  “Don’t feel like it.” Samuel grabbed his hat and coat. “Is it light outside? I’ll go tend the animals.”

  “It’s almost daylight. Need the lantern?”

  “No.” He pushed the door open. A rush of cold air twirled around him and into the room. “Yikes, bitter out here.”

  “Close it fast!” Ella shivered and tossed another log on the fire.

  Velma made her way to the table. She sat beside Carrie and hugged her. “How’s my big girl?” Her left hand smoothed the girl’s hair out of her face. “There, now I can see your pretty eyes.”

  Carrie’s lips curved upward, and she snuggled under her mother’s arm.

  “She’s not getting sick.” Ella gave Carrie a wink. “She helped with the porridge, without being asked to.”

  “Mama.” Remy ran and scooted in by her. He laid his head against her arm and rubbed his fingers over her cheek. “I missed you.”

  Laughing, Velma planted a loud kiss on top of his head. “Remy, I was rights in the bed, silly.”

  “I know.” He wrapped both his arms around her right arm and hung on. “Can you be out of bed?”

  “I’m gonna try.”

  Rosemary coughed and waved a spoon at her mother. “See? My spoon.” Her eyes appeared red-rimmed and watery, but she was recovering.

  “Yes, you’ve got a spoon. I hopes your fever’s gone.” She shook her head at Ella. “I never heard such screaming as she did yesterday.”

  A loud knock at the door startled all of them. Rosemary dropped her spoon to the floor.

  “Why would Samuel be silly and knock?” Ella shoved the door open. “Sam—oh!” Jim stood beyond the threshold, another food basket grasped in his hands.

  “Me—again.” Jim gave her a lopsided grin and a dimple showed in his right cheek. His hat, set low on his forehead, didn’t quite cover the strands of dark hair framing his handsome face.

  “Come in.” She instantly felt flustered. He had caught her in the same wrinkled skirt and blouse she slept in, plus her hair hung tangled about her shoulders. She pulled the door shut, accepted the heavy basket, and set it on the table.

  Jim stomped the sticky melting snow off his boots. “Ouch, fingers froz
e,” he muttered and rubbed his hands together.

  “Mornin’, Jim.” Velma gave him a cheerful wave. “We weren’t expectin’ company so early. How’s things up your way?”

  “Good as can be expected.” He removed his hat and held it in his hands. “Hope you’re feeling stronger.”

  “I am, but disobeyin’ Granny’s orders. I just had to get out of bed to eat.”

  He nodded with understanding. “I’m sorry to come at breakfast, but we’re a bit worried. Where’s Samuel? I didn’t see his horse outside.” A frown marred his wide brow. “We thought he might be here—”

  “He put the horse in a stall.” Ella swept her hair out of her eyes. “He’s at the barn. He offered to check the cows.”

  “Whew. Had me nervous not seeing the horse. When he didn’t come home last night, I had visions of him falling off a cliff. We hoped he had stayed here.” He loosened his coat. His long fingers traveled down the front and undid the handmade wooden buttons, but he didn’t remove it.

  “It got dark, and I needed help. So he stayed.” She didn’t reveal to Jim that Samuel had been reluctant to go home by himself.

  “I’m just relieved to know he’s here.” His curious gaze swept over her face. “You needed help?”

  “Rosemary got sick.”

  “No one else?”

  “Not yet.” Feeling herself blush at his scrutiny, she turned away and self-consciously ran a hand through her tangled hair. Her emotions reeled with regret. He had caught her resembling a discarded pigling.

  It hadn’t mattered so much how Samuel saw her.

  “We’ve decided no more can get sick.” Velma playfully tapped Carrie on the top of the head. “I needs healthy younguns.”

  “Papa’s knee got worse—went purple. Puffed way out. Granny gave him a dose of nasty liquid that stunk like dead fish.”

  “Ugh!” Remy wrinkled his tiny nose and groaned. “I’d hate that.”

  Jim chuckled at the little boy’s horrified expression. “Well, it knocked him out. Then she made Duncan and me straighten out his knee and leg. We braced it with boards. He won’t be able to walk for a week or more. She wants it to have time to heal and the swelling to lessen.”