Where The Wind Blows

by Caroline Fyffe

  Earlier she’d started a fire and put on a fresh pot of coffee. Propelled by nervous energy, she’d busied herself getting the cabin warmed up before everyone was awake and wanting breakfast. When Sarah had begun to stir, in an attempt to give Mr. Hobbs and Gabe as much rest as possible, she’d bundled the child up and placed her at the foot of her bed in hopes she would sleep until the chill was off the cabin. At that time, Mr. Logan was still sleeping heavily, his breath coming out in long, labored whooshes.

  Jessie had hardly slept a wink. She’d passed the night in her rocker, between the bed and the door, checking the cowboy each time he made a strange noise. Late in the night she’d awakened to find her feet frozen with chilblains and her bottom painfully asleep.

  Sarah came running out of the bedroom. Jessie scooped her up and gave her a gentle hug.

  “Good morning, Sarah.” Oh, she felt more wonderful than anything Jessie could remember. “Did you sleep well?”

  Sarah popped two fingers into her mouth. Amazed at the happiness in the little girl’s eyes, Jessie carried her over to the fire. She sat with Sarah on her lap and pointed down at Gabe.

  “Look at that sleepyhead. Will he ever wake up?” Jessie rubbed Sarah’s back slowly.

  Sarah looked down at Gabe, then up into Jessie’s face, and smiled sweetly, displaying two beautiful dimples. It was the prettiest sight Jessie had ever seen. Emotion squeezed her chest and a biscuit-sized lump threatened to close her throat. She had waited for this moment for an eternity. It was a dream come true.

  “Seepin’.” The child pointed a wet finger at him.

  Jessie was so surprised at the sound of the raspy little voice she nearly fell off her chair. “Yes. Yes, sweetheart, Gabe is sleeping. But I think it’s about time you woke him up, don’t you?”

  Knowing that Sarah felt the most comfortable with the boy, Jessie placed her down beside him and let her cuddle up. Sarah squirmed into Gabe’s embrace and closed her eyes.

  Jessie marveled at the closeness of the two. It would be nice if she could ask Gabe to stay on also. It would mean the world to Sarah, and he could be a big help around the farm. But another mouth to feed would be next to impossible. She was just scraping by as it was now. She knew from the orphanage that growing boys ate a whole lot of fixin’s.

  The nape of Jessie’s neck prickled. Turning, she was startled to see Mr. Logan leaning against the doorjamb, the intensity of his stare chilling. How long had he been there? He was dressed exactly as he had been the night before, except for his boots. His stocking feet now brought excruciatingly painful memories to mind. He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort and ran his hand through his disheveled hair.

  “Mornin’.” His voice was hard. His pasty white face contrasted with his dangerously bloodshot eyes. To say he didn’t look as if he felt very well would have been an understatement.

  “Seems as if I had some help falling asleep last night. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  When she didn’t answer, he moved slowly to the table, gingerly pulled out a chair, and sat down as if on eggshells.

  “Out with it, Jessie. I feel like hell, and I think you know the reason. What did you dose my coffee with?”

  Hearing activity by the fire, Jessie panicked. “Laudanum.” She hurried over and sat by his side until her face was just inches from his. “Please, Mr. Logan, I’m begging you not to say anything to Mr. Hobbs about that or who you really are. I know you have every right to, especially after everything I’ve done, but if you ever thought of Nathan as your friend, I beg you not to.”

  “Exactly what is it you want me to do?” She was taken aback when he reached over and took her hand in his.

  “Well…,” she began, her voice wobbling softly. She glanced briefly at the intimate pose of their hands and then back into his eyes. “I want you keep up your pretense of being Nathan until Mr. Hobbs leaves.”

  “How long might that be?”

  Hoping he wouldn’t notice, Jessie discreetly extracted her hand from the warmth of his, while leaning in even closer. It was hard getting her thoughts together with him only a snail’s breath away.

  “I’m not exactly sure. Most likely only one more day.”

  A lopsided grin slowly formed on his face. Without a doubt he was was enjoying this very much. She didn’t care. She’d beg if she had to. She’d do anything to keep Sarah.

  “And”—he paused for five or six seconds, his form of torture, she was sure—“what would the job entail?”

  “Just husbandly things. Work around the barn, hunt, chop wood…”

  “What’s in it for me besides this hellish headache breaking in my skull?”

  She cleared her throat softly, collecting her thoughts. “Hot meals. Clean laundry. Back rubs now and then.” She gestured around the room. “A warm cabin and…soft bed.”

  He raised his eyebrows suggestively. She could hardly believe this was the same kindhearted, thoughtful cowboy who’d brought her the news about Nathan.

  “And…” She faltered. “And everything—except that.”

  “Except what?”

  His overly innocent tone made her want to shout. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Chase Logan,” Jessie whispered tensely.

  “Nope, I don’t. I’ve never had the pleasure of being married. I’m just an ignorant ole bachelor.”

  “The stuff that happens behind closed doors.”

  “Oh, now I’m starting to understand.” His head was propped in his hands as if he didn’t have the strength to hold it up on his own. Amusement shone in his eyes. “What about all the other things that happen outside the bedroom? Are they acceptable?”

  Gabe sat up and stretched. “Mornin’.”

  Jessie turned her startled eyes back to Chase, who looked about as pleased as a man could get. She snatched up his hand and held it between her own. “Yes, everything is acceptable, everything except that. Will you do it?”

  “Under one condition,” he said all playfulness gone. “I’m running things around here. I’m the point, and you’re the drag. Understand?”

  Jessie nodded, even though she had no clue he was referring to the positions of authority on a cattle drive.

  “Oh, just one more thing.”

  Jessie was rising when Chase brought her back down by a gentle tug on her hand. He looked directly into her eyes. “You best start calling me Nathan.”

  Chapter Seven

  Around the table, the morning meal of oatmeal and biscuits was concluding. Exceedingly cramped, the three adults, Gabe, and Sarah all competed for space.

  For a moment, Jessie was lost in thought, her chair wedged close to Mr. Logan’s. Their arms brushed intimately from time to time, sending an intense surge of confusion with each encounter. Her make-believe spouse, agreeable and at ease, eating and chatting with Mr. Hobbs, was the picture of husbandly consideration. The meal progressed without blunder on either her or Mr. Logan’s part, and his presence had actually been a pleasure. She was relieved.

  Chase was excusing himself, when Mr. Hobbs, with a gleam in his withered, old eyes asked, “So Nathan, how did you find our Jess? Where did the two of you meet? I never did get the full story.”

  Chase wiped his mouth slowly. “We met…” He cleared his throat and glanced at Jessie. “We met…”

  Jessie rested her hand on Chase’s forearm. “I met Nathan…in a town where I finally secured employment,” she said softly.

  “Yes,” Chase interrupted. “She was inquiring about work at the mercantile. She was so slender and beautiful.” He drew out each flattering word as if it were honey on his lips. “I just had to introduce myself. Whoever could forget those beautiful blue eyes?”

  Turning, he smiled into her face. “I couldn’t even look away. I was smitten.”

  Jessie forced herself to gaze lovingly back at Chase, hop- ing she didn’t look as foolish as she felt. His eyes twinkled with such merriment, she wanted to stomp on his foot, but instead she picked
up his plate and took it to the sink.

  “I was buying supplies that day,” he went on. “It was a very fast courtship.” He laughed, a rich, deep sound, bringing with it a ripple of pleasure. “I wasn’t letting that one get away.”

  Mr. Hobbs eyes were brimming with tenderness. His lips tipped in a smile, and he nodded.

  Jessie went back and forth clearing the table. His version of the story was much prettier than the truth. Much sweeter than a handful of desperate women perched on a platform in front of a room full of hungry men. Less hurtful than the sight of everyone averting their gaze when they were shown a portion of her ugly, scarred back. Much less humiliating than being the only one left, standing there alone. That is, until Nathan Strong stepped forward to offer her his hand.

  Yes. She liked Chase’s version much better.

  Chase stood and excused himself and went into the bedroom.

  “Full, Sarah?” Jessie inquired, changing the subject. Her peaceful bubble had burst. Agitation from the horribly dishonest situation she’d gotten herself into enveloped her. Her insides knotted up, tight and unsettling.

  The little girl nodded, then turned her attention to Gabe, sticking her spoon into his bowl.

  “I’m trying to get her to mind her manners, ma’am, but she won’t. She’s real perky today.” The boy removed her spoon from his empty bowl and placed it back into her own.

  “Well, we’re packed and ready to go,” Mr. Hobbs announced. “I hope you will forgive me, Jessie, for the short stay, but I don’t want to wait. If we do, we may get snowed in.” He paused, looking doubtful. “There’s something I would like to discuss with you and Mr. Strong.”

  “I’m here,” said Chase as he came through the bedroom door. He had his saddlebags slung over his shoulder and rifle in hand.

  “Gabe, take our bags out to the wagon, please,” Mr. Hobbs said. When the boy was gone, he continued. “I’m not trying to force you into any quick decisions, but I really brought Gabe out in hopes you might be able to take him in, too. He’s almost to the age where he’ll be going off on his own, so he wouldn’t be a hardship for long. Actually, I think he could be a big help to you.” Mr. Hobbs ran his handkerchief across his forehead. “He can hunt and track. He’s capable and handy—and a good boy.”

  Turning to Jessie, Mr. Hobbs beseeched her. “I’m sorry to be putting you on the spot like this, but there’s really no room for him at the orphanage. We’re overcrowded. If you don’t take him in, I’ll be forced to find him a job in some town.” His face was solemn. “And as you know, that’s a pig in a poke.”

  Mr. Hobbs took a breath and went on quickly. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how attached he is to Sarah. Thinks of her as his sister. He had one, but on the wagon train west the cholera took her, along with his parents. He’s had a lot of heartache for one so young.”

  Chase thought about Gabe. How old was he? Thirteen?

  That was considered a man in the West. He’d be a huge help to Jessie when it was time for Chase to leave.

  “The boy stays,” Chase said and looked down at Jessie to see if she was going to argue with him. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  She hesitated slightly before she relaxed and leaned into his side. “Yes, we’d be happy to have him,” Jessie replied with a breathless voice.

  Jessie walked over to the fire, where Gabe waited after returning from the wagon, and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We’d be proud to have you in our family. It won’t be easy living out here, but you seem like the type who’d take to it well.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Gabe said somberly. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  “I will if you keep calling me ma’am,” she said playfully. “It’s Jessie. I insist.”

  Mr. Hobbs was all smiles. “Marvelous! Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get the papers signed so I can be on my way.” Mr. Hobbs rummaged through his things until he drew out a handful of crumpled papers.

  Chase’s palms began to sweat. Jessie would think him a simpleton for sure. Just because he couldn’t read or write didn’t mean he was stupid. He just never had the same chances other children did. He’d spent all his time surviving.

  Mr. Hobbs laid the papers on the table and dipped his pen into his capsule of ink. “Just sign here at the bottom.”

  Chase looked down at the papers as if he were reading them over, a skill he’d perfected over the years. He looked to Jessie and then to Mr. Hobbs.

  “Ladies first.”

  Jessie took the pen. She placed it on the second line and slowly scrolled her name, Jessica Marie Strong, in elegant curving letters. Her penmanship was an art.

  “Your turn,” she said, and handed the pen to Chase. Taking it without hesitation, he dipped into the ink and scratched out an X on the top line above her name. Without another word, he turned, took the food Jessie had wrapped up for him, and nodded to the group.

  “He’s going hunting,” Jessie said, filling in the embarrassing gap. She followed Chase to the door. A blast of north wind blew in, bringing with it the cold, crisp scent of winter.

  “Well, I’m off, too,” Mr. Hobbs said. “Take good care of Sarah, and Gabe, you help Jessie and Mr. Strong. Mind your manners.”

  They embraced for long moments and Jessie couldn’t hold back her tears. “Tell everyone I said hello.”

  “I will, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead then set her away from him and brushed her tears away with his thumb. “I’m just so thankful to see how wonderful everything has turned out for you. Take good care.”

  The cabin seemed very quiet now without the two men. Several hours passed in conversation and games with Sarah. Jessie busied herself making bread. She kneaded dough until she thought her arms would fall off, and then set the pans by the fire to rise.

  “I’m going to fetch some water. Will you keep your eye on Sarah, make sure she stays far away from the fire?” She buttoned up her coat and pulled on some mittens.

  Gabe stood immediately and looked over at the pump in the kitchen, confused. “Water?”

  “That only gives me a trickle. When I have washing, I go to the creek.”

  “I’ll go. Just point me in the right direction.”

  “Thanks, but I really need to get outside for a little while. I’ve been inside so long I’m about to go stir crazy. Fresh air will do me good.” She appreciated his willingness to help. “Be back in a jiffy.”

  Bundled up, with bucket in hand, Jessie made her way along the narrow path behind the cabin. It meandered some twenty feet, then disappeared into a grove of trees. Ducking under the moistened limbs she let her eyes adjust to the darkened woodland and then carefully descended the short decline. It was icy. Time and again she forced her thoughts away from Mr. Logan.

  Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Chase? And why had he returned in the first place? Just to help her? That had to be it. He’d had a change of heart after seeing Sarah. Why else?

  The rushing water lapped along its banks, splashing and looking for an escape. The narrow beach, scattered with rock of all sizes and shades, gave her immense pleasure. Nathan had told her that this exact spot had moved him so much, he had leased the cabin immediately and settled here. She came here often when she felt lonely, and it always lifted her spirits. It was beautiful beyond compare.

  Taking care not to get the hem of her dress wet, Jessie knelt on her usual rock and hefted the wooden bucket by its rope handle, dipping it in the water. The bucket caught with force as water splashed over her arms, nearly pulling it from her grasp.

  As she struggled to hold on, a movement on the opposite bank made her look up. Jessie’s heart stopped. The bucket dropped from her fingers and careened away.

  Not thirty feet away sat three Indians on their horses.

  Chapter Eight

  Jessie scrambled backward off the rock. As she did, her dress tangled in her boots, and she landed hard on the sand. Her gut reaction was to turn and run, but she remembered
what Nathan had told her the first time he had left her here alone. If you see an Indian, try not to show any fear. Don’t scream or run. Most are curious about white women is all, and just want a look.

  Ignoring the pain radiating through her body, Jessie slowly picked herself up and started cautiously backing away.

  Two were magnificent-looking men in their buckskins and feathers. Their cloaks were made of animal skin of some kind, which still had a head attached and dangling off to the side. The Indians’ faces revealed not the slightest expression as Jessie stared into their eyes.

  The third Indian was a youth, probably around Gabe’s age. He held the reins of a riderless horse that danced around nervously, snorting and pawing the ground. When the horse turned, the saddle and saddlebags on the horse were familiar.

  “Oh no,” Jessie whispered under her breath. “Chase.” Summoning her courage, she forced her legs to move, to climb up the bank. Backing slowly all the way to the edge of the trees, she then turned and ran to the cabin.

  “Gabe!” She pounded the door with her frozen fists. “Open up!”

  The door flew open, and Jessie bolted inside. She slammed it with both hands and dropped the bar. She struggled to catch her breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Indians. Three by the creek. They have Chase’s horse.”

  “Who’s Chase?” he asked, confused.

  “Nathan! Chase is his nickname and what I call him most.”

  “You’re sure it was his? Lots of horses look the same.”

  “I’m sure. I need to look for him. If he’s still alive—oh God, let him be alive—,” she panted, “I’ll bring him home.”

  “I’m the one who should go,” Gabe protested. “If you find him, you won’t be able to lift him or nothing. How will you get him back here?”

  Desperation burned inside Jessie. She wouldn’t think about that now. She worked quickly to put on more layers of clothing. That was a bridge she’d cross when she found him. Sarah, frightened from all the turmoil, started crying.