Caitrin squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I had no idea Jimmy would do something like this.”
“He’d better stop talking about Lucy,” he growled, the blood racing in his veins. “I don’t like it.”
“That Cornish madwoman is going to hurt one of us,” Jimmy continued, heedless of Seth’s attempts to move him from the stage. “She’s got a demon in her, so she does.”
“That’s enough, O’Toole!” Jack shouted, coming to his feet.
“Get off the wagon before I throw you off.”
“No, Jack,” Caitrin croaked, tears squeezing from her eyes. “Please calm yourself!”
“I’ll not get off the wagon until I’ve had my say, Cornish!” Jimmy cried. “’Tis you I’m talkin’ about. ’Tis your mother has tried to kill our Sheena. ’Twas you yourself who knocked her to the ground and near cast the child from her belly. Now look at you there with our Caitrin!”
Jack glared as the man’s face grew red. The crowd’s murmuring intensified, and their rumblings of discontent filled the night air. All around him, people were staring and muttering snatches of affirmation for Jimmy O’Toole’s tirade. Jack didn’t care if this was a prayer meeting and God himself stood among them, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone talking poorly of his family. Felicity Cornwall was his mother, and Lucy was his sister … and he’d fight to the death before he’d let harm come to either of them.
“You’ve bewitched our Caitrin,” the Irishman growled, “and now you’re tryin’ to work your evil on Seth and Rosie Hunter.”
He faced the crowd. “Let me tell you people about the Cornish. They’re liars and cheaters and thieves, all of ’em. You saw how Jack Cornwall tried to steal Chipper right away from his own papa, didn’t you?”
“Hold on, there, O’Toole!” Jack shouted, unable to contain his growing fury. “Get off the wagon!”
“Nay, I’ll speak my mind to these good folk. Jack Cornwall frightened the ladies and smashed our parties into smithereens!
He stole Seth’s rifle right off his wall. He trespassed on my land, fed my good oats to his devil of a black horse, slept in my barn, and wooed my own wife’s sister for his evil purposes.”
“You leave Caitrin out of this!” Jack said, pulling away from her and heading for the wagon. “I’ve never done a thing to hurt that woman.”
“Harmin’ women is his favorite pastime,” Jimmy told the crowd. “You can see my poor donsie wife there with her head in a bandage and her feet barely able to walk from the injuries of that Cornishman, can’t you? And there’s no tellin’ what wickedness the man has done to his own sister. You’ve seen the lunatic driftin’ in the creek in the middle of winter, tryin’ to end her own life. You’ve seen her shriekin’ and carryin’ on at the dance when Rustemeyer kindly offered her a piece o’ cake, haven’t you? Aye, you’ve seen the demon that lives with her, and his name is Jack Cornwall!”
“Stop slandering my sister!” Jack roared, leaping up onto the stage. So much for peace and purity. He grabbed Jimmy O’Toole by the collar, took hold of the backside of his britches, gave a big heave-ho, and tossed the Irishman off the wagon.
The crowd’s shock turned quickly to fury. With a howl of rage, men stormed onto the platform. The first one landed Jack a glancing blow to the jaw. The second hit him square in the stomach.
Anger poured through Jack’s veins. With the strength of every muscle that had ever forged iron, he threw himself into the fray. Though he could hear Seth shouting at him to run, he slammed a fellow straight in the nose and felt the crunch of snapping cartilage. He knocked another man clear across the stage. He caught one attacker on the cheekbone, and he drove a fist into another’s gut.
Somebody smashed a heavy black Bible over Jack’s head. The world swam for a moment as his legs buckled. Another fellow rammed his fist into Jack’s eye. Yet another man’s chop to the stomach knocked him to his knees.
Coughing and spitting out blood, Jack lunged upward again, throwing a forearm into an assailant’s chest and knocking him flat. Maybe he was a goner, Jack thought, but he wouldn’t go down easy. Screams and shouts rang in his ears as he fought his way across the platform. He elbowed somebody out of his way and dodged a fist directed at his nose. A man shoved him from behind. He stumbled forward as a gun went off.
Searing, blinding pain tore into the back of his leg. He tumbled to the ground. A blow landed on his jaw, another on his temple.
Someone kicked him in the stomach. He gasped twice, unable to breathe. And this time, the stars went out.
“Let me go, Rosie!” Caitrin cried, trying to pull out of the woman’s grasp. “Sure, they’ll tear Jack to bits!”
“You can’t go over there, Caitrin!” Rosie said. “Look, here’s Seth.”
Her husband raced up to the women, took them by the arms, and hauled them away from the meeting ground. “Come on, you two, let’s get out of here.”
“But I heard a gun, Seth.” Caitrin strained toward the wagon. “I’m sure I did! What if Jack needs help? He’s in terrible trouble!”
“Jack Cornwall makes his own trouble.”
“This wasn’t his fault! Jimmy provoked him.” Caitrin struggled as Seth dragged her and Rosie up the road toward the mercantile. Oh, God, dear God! Please help Jack! Help me! Help us all.
“Look, there’s Mrs. Cornwall coming out of one of the Cornwall tents!” Rosie said. “Seth, you must tell her what’s happened.”
“She shouldn’t get messed up in that craziness,” Seth barked. “She’s liable to get herself killed.”
“Mrs. Cornwall!” Caitrin cried, heedless of Seth’s admonition.
“Miss Murphy?” she responded. “That was a short prayer meeting. I was just fetching Chipper a blanket from the other tent.”
“Oh, Mrs. Cornwall, you must go after Jack,” Caitrin said.
“There’s been a terrible fight. Sure, we’ve heard a gunshot.”
“Gunshot!” Felicity glanced in the direction of the wagon and wrung her hands. “But I can’t leave Chipper. And then there’s Lucy! She’s not doing well tonight. All day she’s been dwelling on those Yankee soldiers and … and the things they did to her. She’s troubled. Very troubled. I thought I might even need to fetch Jack back from the prayer meeting. Oh, heaven, what have those wicked O’Tooles done to my son? I told him I wouldn’t have him marrying into that family, no matter how much he thinks he loves you. Now they’ve shot my boy, and I can’t leave Lucy at a time like this!”
Breathing hard, Caitrin stared at Felicity Cornwall. What was the woman saying? Yankee soldiers had harmed Lucy … and Jack loved Caitrin… .
“Papa! Mama!” Chipper dashed out of one of the Cornwalls’ tents and threw his arms around Rosie’s skirt. “Aunt Lucy’s scrubbin’ herself raw in there!”
“Goodness gracious,” Rosie said, kneeling and tucking the child into a warm hug. “How about if we head home and find you an oatmeal cookie and some fresh milk? Then you can tell your mama all about it, sweetie.”
“You’d better stay here with Lucy,” Seth told Mrs. Cornwall. “I’m going to take Miss Murphy to her house, and then I’ll make sure my wife and son get home safe. If I know Rolf Rustemeyer at all, he’ll be trying to settle the crowd and help out your son. Maybe by the time I get back to the wagon things will have calmed down enough that we can pull Jack away without getting ourselves killed in the process.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter,” Felicity said. “Please help us!”
“What about Lucy?” Caitrin called, as Seth tugged her down the road toward her soddy. “Can I do anything?”
“She’s scrubbing herself, Miss Murphy,” Felicity answered, staring ahead hopelessly. “She gets to scrubbing sometimes … uses sandpaper and a horsehair brush … and nearly takes her own skin off.”
“Dear God!” Caitrin whispered. “Help us all!”
Caitrin was on her knees beside her bed when a knock fell on the door. Her heart contracted, and she squeezed her hands togethe
r. Please, Father, let Jack be all right! Oh, Lord, bring something good out of this terrible mess! Give us some reason to hope!
“Caitrin Murphy? You in there?”
It was Jimmy O’Toole.
“I’m here,” she said. “Just a moment.”
She stood and hurried to the soddy door. After lifting the bar, she threw open the door on its leather hinges. Her brother-in-law stood outside as a huddled, blanket-shrouded figure cowered behind him.
“Is that Jack?” she whispered.
“Nay,” Jimmy said. “Your not-so-secret beau is over at the mercantile getting the lead cut out of his leg by Seth Hunter. This here’s your sister, who’s so beside herself I daren’t take her home to the brablins. Sheena’s been weepin’ like a blasted fountain, and I can’t make her talk to me. Take her, if you will, Caitrin. She’s mortal scared, so she is, and I know you’ll have the words to comfort her.”
“Sheena!” Caitrin clasped the woman in her arms and led her to a chair. “Are you all right? Is your baby well?”
The blanket fell back, and Sheena looked up, her great green eyes swimming with tears. Her red hair was topsy-turvy on her head, and her apron had fallen right off her dress. She sniffled and hugged herself around the middle.
“Sure, I’m well enough,” she whispered. “But I can’t stay here. I need to look after the wee ones.”
“Nay, you won’t,” Jimmy barked. “You’ll stay here with your sister until I’ve settled them into bed and all of us have had a good night’s sleep.”
“Oh, Jimmy, let Sheena go home,” Caitrin said.
“And frighten the brablins with her weepin’?” Jimmy shook his head. “If there ever was a man put upon, ’tis me, I’ll tell you that much. Them Cornish is the root of all the trouble. My poor Sheena’s laid up thanks to that devil woman, Felicity Cornwall. And now we’ve had a row the size of which would flatten Topeka. Men runnin’ this way and that. Ladies shriekin’. Cornwall himself is shot, and several others has lost teeth, broke noses, and got their jaws knocked outta joint. Leave it to a Cornishman to start up a fray like that one.”
“Jack didn’t start the trouble—”
“I ain’t finished yet,” Jimmy said, taking a step toward Caitrin. “I was on my way over to your soddy with my poor wife there, when who should come runnin’ out of the Cornwall camp but that lunatic lass. She was naked as a frog and all scratched up and bleedin’. And after her came her own mother, chasin’ her across the prairie. Now, I don’t know what to make of that, Caitrin, but what they’re both of them mad as hatters.”
“I can explain, Jimmy.”
“You’ll explain it to the fairies, so you will. I’ll not listen to your bold tongue nor be swayed by your stubborn ways. I’m not like Sheena, ready to overlook the sins of a blood relative. Sure you, Caitrin Murphy, have caused every bit as much trouble as them Cornish!”
“I have not!”
“Aye, you have. All I wanted in comin’ to this land was a bit o’ peace and quiet. I built my soddy and plowed my fields. I planned to take care of my brablins and my wee wife and give us all a good life. But glory be, now we’ve a mercantile and a post office and a church and a smithy and a confounded prayer meetin’. We’ve lunatics and lechers and poker-wieldin’ grannies about. We’ve more people crossin’ that blasted bridge in one day than I ever wanted to see in a lifetime. And you, my dear lass, have been nearly the death of your own sister—consortin’ with Cornishmen and takin’ lunatics into your own home. Well, I’ll tell you this. I’ve had enough of it, so I have. I’m tellin’ you now, as I’ve already told Sheena—you’re goin’ back to Ireland, lassie. The first stagecoach east tomorrow, you’re on it. And good riddance to bad rummage.”
Caitrin clenched her jaw, willing herself not to erupt. Please, God give me the strength, the patience, the courage …
“Out!” she shouted, her faith utterly failing her. “Get out of my soddy, Jimmy O’Toole, and don’t come back until you’ve had the good grace to apologize.”
“When hell freezes over,” he snarled. “Until then, I’ll leave you to look after my wife as a good sister should. ’Tis high time you chose whose family you belong to—us or the Cornwalls. And if you decide to join the dregs, Caitrin Murphy, that’s exactly what you’ll be.”
Hair flaming red in the lamplight, Jimmy turned and stomped out of the soddy. He slammed the door behind him. One of the leather hinges snapped loose from the frame. The door swayed, tipped, and crashed to the ground in a pile of loose boards.
“I want to go home,” Sheena said in a wavering voice.
Caitrin swung around to find her sister pulling her blanket up around her shoulders and standing to leave. “Wait,” Caitrin said, holding out a hand. “Please don’t mind Jimmy. He’s worried about you, and he’s hot about the Cornish. I’ve been praying for God to soften his heart, and praying that I can rein my tongue. But so far, I fear we’ve both a bit more surrendering to do.”
A tear trickled from one of Sheena’s green eyes. “Jimmy frightened me tonight, Caitie. I’ve never seen him so angry. Sure, he wasn’t himself.”
“Nay.” Caitrin strode across the room and grasped her sister’s hands. “Oh, Sheena, I never meant such trouble to come to Hope.
My heart is bursting in two. How can I choose between my dear family and the man I love? You and Jimmy are all I have, so you are. I’ll love you always. But Jack Cornwall … dear Sheena, he’s a man like none other I’ve known.”
“My poor Caitie.” Sheena rubbed a hand under her damp eyes. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll stay with me this night. Sure, you’ve had a rough time of it, and you can use the rest. We’ll hang a blanket over the door.”
“Jimmy’s furious with me, Caitie! After the fighting settled, I told him he was wrong to speak out against the Cornish at the town prayer meeting. I shouldn’t have gone against him. I should have … should have honored my husband.” Sheena bent over, sobbing. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t go on like this!”
“There now,” Caitrin said softly, placing an arm around the woman’s heaving shoulders. “A good cry is just the thing. I’m ready to join you myself, so I am. Never have I known such flames of hatred and fear and confusion in my life.”
“Oh, Caitie, don’t let’s sit here and weep. Put the kettle on and make us a pot of tea.”
Caitrin sniffled. “Aye, warm milk and a sugar will turn it that lovely caramel color and settle our nerves. As our dear mother used to say, there’s nothing like a cup of hot tea for comfort.”
Trembling, she headed for the fire. She had prepared the kettle earlier, hoping the two couples would take a moment after the prayer meeting to sit together and visit. How wonderful everything had seemed then. She had held great hopes that Seth and Jack would speak comfortably with each other, and then perhaps they could grow as true friends.
Was Jack all right? What if the bullet in his leg had done some terrible damage? Caitrin hung the kettle on the hook and stirred the fire. She couldn’t leave Sheena alone to go and check on Jack. What if her sister’s cramping started up again? But how could Caitrin bear to spend the night not knowing how Jack was? She ached to be near him, to hold and comfort him. And then there was Lucy …
The girl herself ran through the open doorway and into Caitrin’s soddy. “I can’t … I’m … I …”
“Lucy!” Felicity Cornwall was right behind her. “You’ll be the death of me, girl!”
Caitrin gaped at the young woman. Lucy’s flesh was raw and bleeding, and her hair hung in shaggy clumps. Coming to her senses, Caitrin grabbed a quilt from the bed and threw it over Lucy’s shoulders. The girl shuddered and collapsed in a heap.
“Lucy!” Caitrin crouched beside her. “Lucy, ’tis Caitrin Murphy here. I’m going to hold you now. You’ll be all right.”
As she pulled the shivering woman into her arms, Felicity stood panting. “She was scrubbing herself with sandpaper, like I said,” she told Cai
trin between breaths, “and then she jumped up and ran off. I’ve been chasing her across the prairie for I don’t know how long. She’s right out of her head tonight. I never saw the poor child so bad!”
At that, Felicity sank down onto a stool and burst into tears.
“Now just calm down, Mrs. Cornwall.” Caitrin tucked Lucy into the cradle of her lap, praying that God would settle the raving madness inside the young woman. “Lucy’s going to be all right. She can stay here with me tonight. Sheena and I are just ready to have tea, and we’ll welcome Lucy to join us.”
Felicity glanced over at the chair where the Irishwoman sat. “Mrs. O’Toole,” she said, and then she sobbed helplessly for a moment. “I’m so sorry! So … so sorry. I didn’t mean to harm you that day, and … and your baby …”
“Nay, Mrs. Cornwall,” Sheena whispered, blotting her own eyes. “’Twas I who came at you …”
“I struck you.”
“I called you such vile things.”
“Oh, whatever shall we do?”
“Mrs. Cornwall,” Caitrin said, “I want you to go over to the mercantile and check on Jack. Please see that he’s all right, and then come back and give me the news. If he needs me, I’ll go to him at once. After that, you must make your way back to your camp and try to rest.”
“Yes,” Felicity said, dabbing a handkerchief on her cheeks. “I’ll do that very thing.”
As the older woman left, Caitrin held Lucy tightly and began to rock her. In a moment Sheena joined them on the floor. The three women slipped their arms around each other, and Caitrin thought of the despair and hopelessness that threatened. What hope of peace did any of them have?
And then she remembered. “The Lord is my rock and my salvation,” she whispered. “Whom then shall I fear?”
Caitrin woke well past dawn the next morning. The blanket she had hung over the front door had fallen down in the night. Sunlight lit a golden rectangle on the bare earthen floor. Lucy lay nestled against Caitrin’s left side, her sleep troubled and restless. Sheena slept soundly on the right. Caitrin stared up at the rough plank ceiling topped by blocks of heavy sod and thought of the time she had thrown a plate against the wall in frustration. As she recalled it, she’d been angry about grass roots burrowing into the house.
Prairie Fire Page 23
