"Help!"
The scream from across camp brought people out of all of the wagons and running back from the small trickling stream where a few of the young adults and children were cooling their feet in the clear water. I jumped down from the back of the wagon where I had been trying to catch a few moments of rest before going to help the other women finish cleaning up the supper dishes.
"Please, someone, help!"
Two men had gotten to the wagon where the man was screaming before I got there and both were staring into the back as if stunned. I could hear groaning and I immediately knew what was happening. I pushed past the two men and planted my foot on the back of the wagon, swinging my body up so that I blocked as much of the opening as I could while standing on the tongue. That seemed to bring the men back into their present minds and they both retreated from the wagon, allowing me to step inside more comfortably.
The woman lying on several layers of quilts looked terrified and the sweat pouring down her brow told me she had been in labor for many hours already. Her eyes were wide and wild, and her breath was uneven and frantic. She reached out to me and grabbed my wrist with a clammy, sweaty hand.
"What's wrong with her?" the man who had been screaming for help asked, poking his head into the wagon.
I looked up at him as sternly as I could to ensure he was listening to me.
"This baby needs to come out."
"Do you know what's wrong?"
"I attended the births of four of my younger siblings and three neighbors. I have seen this happen twice. The midwife was only able to save one of the women. I need you to listen carefully to what I'm going to tell you, and do exactly as I say. I will do everything that I can."
I had never been so frightened in my entire life. I was not a midwife and this was a truly dangerous situation that could result in the loss of both the mother and the baby. Holding onto the woman's hand tightly, I closed my eyes and prayed. I asked God to touch my hands, to help me to remember what I had learned during those tense births, and to guide me through so that could help this woman and her child.
Feeling stronger and calmer, I instructed the man to gather a few specific herbs and get his wife some drinking water. I checked to see how far the baby had already come and found that its head was already quite low. After I got her to ingest the herbs and water, I gently helped her off of her back and into a crouched position that my mother had used when delivering my youngest brother. The woman seemed weakened and I continued to pray, asking for the strength to do what I needed to do to get her through.
The herbs went into action very quickly, and just an hour after I had first heard the man screaming, I cradled his tiny son in my arms. The woman dropped back onto the quilts, smiling through her tears as she finally allowed her body to give in to the exhaustion. I tucked the infant against her and climbed out of the wagon. The man thanked me over and over before getting into the wagon to meet his child.
Overwhelmed by the experience, I walked down to the creek to get a few moments alone. As I rinsed my hands in the water and sent my thanks up, I heard rustling in the grass across the creek. I looked up and saw a young couple walking together, hands intertwined between them, and whispering happily. My heart constricted and I felt tears start to pour down my cheeks.
They had found love on this long and perilous journey. What would I find when I reached the end?
Chapter 7
June, 1863
Dear Papa,
I have finally arrived in Bannack, Montana. The journey was long and difficult, and I arrived here feeling like I could crawl into bed and sleep for weeks. I remembered what you always taught me, though, and stayed strong. I have yet to meet Mr. Thorpe, the man who I came here to possibly marry. A letter was waiting for me at the sheriff's office when I arrived, telling me that Mr. Thorpe was staying at the camp near the mine for several days and hoped to be back before my arrival, but that if he was not, I was to go to the hotel.
I hope that this is not a precursor of our marriage.
How do you feel about me marrying a man in the Frontier, Papa? I know that you had ideas about who I should marry and that I should always stay close to home, but I really feel that this is God's will and what I am meant to be doing for the family.
Here I am going on about something so trivial as having to spend a night at a hotel before meeting the man I am courting when you are facing the trials of the battlefield. I am sorry for being so selfish. I miss you desperately, Papa. I pray every night that you are safe and as comfortable and healthy as possible. When will this war end? When will all the men be able to go home to their families and put all of this horror behind us?
I will write to you again soon. Know that my heart is with you.
With love,
Caroline
Chapter 8
I was carrying the letter I had written to my father when I crossed the beautiful lobby to the hotel the next morning. I had heard that there was another woman living in the hotel after a mail courtship with the owner of the hotel, and I was hoping to meet her. As soon as I handed the owner the letter, however, he told me that there was a gentleman waiting for me in the dining room.
My heart jumped slightly. Mr. Thorpe must have returned from the camp and heard that I had arrived. I smoothed my hair and adjusted my dress as I made my way toward the dining room, wanting to make the best impression on him that I could in our first few seconds.
There were several people sitting in the dining room eating breakfast, but one man sat at an empty table gazing out of the large front window at the already busy street outside. Even though he hadn't sent me a picture with his letter, I knew that this was Mr. Thorpe. I approached the table and when I was within only a step or two, he looked up at me and smiled.
I couldn't help but smile back. A few years older than me, Mr. Thorpe was a very handsome man with sandy blonde hair and chiseled features. His bright blue eyes, however, seemed to hold emotions right behind them that belied the friendly expression that curved his lips. He stood and extended a hand to me.
"Caroline," he said with a familiarity that struck me slightly.
"Mr. Thorpe," I said, my voice somewhat softer than I would have anticipated it being.
"Please, call me Bailey."
I nodded, taking his hand in mine briefly.
"Pleased to finally meet you, Bailey."
"Have you eaten?"
"Oh. Yes, I ordered breakfast to my room."
"Very good. Would you like to take a walk?"
I nodded again and he stepped around the table, offering me his arm so that he could lead me out of the dining room and through the lobby toward the main doors of the hotel. I noticed that he was limping slightly, but not in the way of a man who had recently twisted his ankle or sustained a bruise. This was the deep, sustained limp of a lingering injury.
"Are you alright?" I asked. He looked at me strangely and I pointed to his leg, "You are limping."
Bailey turned sharply back toward the street ahead of us and shook his head.
"It's nothing. Just an old injury."
It was something that he obviously didn't want to talk about, so I didn't press him any further. Instead, I looked ahead of us and began to talk, telling him about myself and encouraging him to tell me about his life so we could try to fit a lifetime of knowledge into as short a time as possible.
Chapter 9
Dear Mama,
I have a new name. Is it strange that I am married now, and it is the new last name that is the change I notice the most? Bailey and I married yesterday in a private ceremony at the meeting hall. There is no church here, but the preacher happened to be passing through town on his rounds, so that is why Bailey suggested we marry so quickly.
Until now, I have been staying at the hotel where I came to my first night. It is the loveliest hotel I could ever imagine, and I met a wonderful woman named Hannah. The time I have not been spending with Bailey I have spent with her. I feel like a gossip even tel
ling you this, and I do not know the entire story, but she is not married to the owner of the hotel even though she came here to marry him. It seems that they are friendly with each other, but not as close as I would expect them to be. I suppose I should not be nosy and allow her to tell me in her own time if she is going to.
I miss you all so much. It is hard to believe that I have already been gone for four months. I suppose Grandmother has moved in already. I hope that she has and things are easier for all of you now. Have you heard from Papa? I wrote to him, but I do not expect a letter back. I do not even know if that letter will get to him. I only knew to send it to the last place he sent us a letter from, and that was so long ago, I can only assume they have moved on now.
I wonder when my family will ever have the opportunity to meet my new husband. My husband…I really must get used to that. It seems so strange to call a man I barely know my husband. It has only been two weeks, and though I like Bailey very much, I feel like there are things that he is keeping from me. I wish I felt that I knew him better.
I miss you and love you more than I can say. Please write to me soon. Kiss all of the little ones for me.
All of my love,
Caroline
Chapter 10
"I can't help it," I said, smoothing my skirt again, "I'm nervous."
"Why are you nervous?"
"Hannah is the only other person I have met in the three weeks I've been here. It is overwhelming to think about meeting the rest of the town in one afternoon."
"Caroline," Bailey said, crossing the room to me and taking my hands in his, "this is an Independence Day ice cream social, not an Inquisition. I promise I am not going to line everyone up and make you shake everyone's hand and tell them about yourself."
I laughed.
"Alright then."
Bailey squeezed my hands.
"That's better. Now, let's go eat some ice cream and maybe meet a few nice people."
I took Bailey's arm and let him guide me outside and toward the center of town. It was warm out, but it was nice to walk along with him. When we arrived at the center of town, it was bustling with people. He had told me that when he first arrived in Bannack, there were not half the number of people, and they were nearly all men. Now there were more women and even a few young children.
Bailey brought me over to one of the long tables set up in the middle of the area and handed me a dish of ice cream. Taking one for himself, he nodded toward an area of shade created by the false fronts on a few of the buildings along the main street. We sat on the steps leading up to the elevated wooden sidewalk along the shops and ate a few bites of our ice cream. The cool, sweet flavor made me smile, and when I looked up at Bailey, he was offering me his spoon.
"Try the strawberry," he said.
I hesitated briefly, then let him place the bite in my mouth. The flavor of the strawberries was bright and a little tart, perfect against the smooth richness of the ice cream.
"I guess this is the lovely wife we've been hearing so much about over in the mines."
I turned toward the unknown man's voice and saw a gruff-looking older man staring down at me. Bailey held out his hand to shake the man's as he swallowed another bite of ice cream.
"Gracey," he said by way of greeting. "It's good to see you out in the world."
The men laughed and Bailey touched my shoulder gently.
"Gracey, this is my wife, Caroline. Caroline, this is a friend of mine from the mine camp, Warren Gracey."
"Hello, Mr. Gracey," I said, shaking his hand.
"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Thorpe." It was the first time I had heard that and it made me smile. "I hope you don't mind if I say that you seem a lot younger than the other brides who have come our way."
Bailey looked uncomfortable, but I laughed.
"I suppose I am. I am the oldest in my family, though. My Papa is fighting in the War."
"Well, that explains it, then," Gracey said seriously. "I hope that he stays safe and doesn't find himself injured like your husband here."
I looked at Bailey sharply and saw him glaring at Gracey angrily.
"Injured?" I asked.
"Of course. Haven't you ever wondered where he got that limp of his? Bullet from a rebel. Tore right through his thigh."
I put down my dish and tried to catch my breath. I was suddenly feeling unwell, and it wasn't due to the heat.
"That's enough, Gracey," Bailey admonished, reaching out to touch my back.
I withdrew from the touch.
"You fought in the War?" I asked, barely able to force my voice through the tightness in my throat.
"Yes. I was discharged after I was injured and that's when I came here."
"From where?"
Bailey swallowed and I knew I was not going to like his answer before he even started to speak.
"Pennsylvania."
My breath caught in my throat painfully and I saw spots in front of my eyes. I stood, gathering my skirts as I got off of the steps as fast as I could.
"Excuse me," I said, starting back across the town center.
I could hear Bailey chasing after me and the grumbling voice of Gracey trying to figure out what happened.
"Caroline!" Bailey called, "Wait."
I didn't slow down until I had gotten back to the house and was in the bedroom, leaned over the washbowl on the vanity. My mind was spinning. I heard Bailey come into the room, but I didn't look up at him.
"Caroline, what's wrong?"
He stepped closer to me and closed the bedroom door even though there was no one else in the house. It was a subtle gesture that reminded me of the closeness of our relationship, even if we were still learning about each other.
"Why didn’t you tell me that you fought in the War?"
"It's not something that I like to talk about. Why does it matter?"
"You fought for the North."
"I know."
"You could have shot my father, or one of my cousins, or my friends."
"How could I have known that? I didn't know you, and I most certainly didn't know them. My father was too old to fight, so I fought in his place. I was fighting for what he believes."
"You believe in forcing people to live how others tell them to?"
"You believe in owning other people?"
I felt the anger building up inside me and I couldn't even bear to look at him. I had just begun to feel like I was starting to know and trust him, and suddenly it was as though he was a complete stranger again.
"That is not what this War is about and it never was. My family doesn't live on a plantation and my father believes in fair wages for fair work," I snarled at him. I stomped past him toward the door and turned just before opening it, "You came here to follow some Manifest Destiny that everyone is talking about. You say you decided to live life on your terms and do what you believe is right. How can you say that when you spent months on a battlefield stealing lives so that you could force people to live the way your father thinks that they should?"
I didn't wait for a response. I stalked out of the house and back to the town, not stopping until I was back in the hotel sitting on the same bed where I had sat on my first night in Bannack. I held my face in my hands and cried until I thought my heart would break.
Chapter 11
August, 1863
Dear Diary,
It has been a month since I returned to the hotel. Hannah sent one of the young men who works at the hotel to collect some of my belongings the day after I arrived. He said that Bailey looked devastated when he arrived, but I could not go back there after that argument. How could I?
I do not know what to do now, Diary. I feel like I have been put into a nearly impossible place. Hannah has been so kind to me, offering me my room without cost in exchange for helping her in the dining room. I feel like I am right back at home in Gabriella's kitchen, just waiting for one of the wealthy men to make a cruel comment. She has told me more about herself and why she has not married.
I think she’s trying to have me reconsider my feelings for Bailey.
Part of me wants to write home and ask my mother to arrange for my return, but the guilt is tormenting me. The cost alone would be devastating, and even though I know that Grandmother would help, I cannot imagine the disappointment and shame of me returning after less than two months of marriage.
I pray desperately each night for guidance. I know that I married Bailey and am obligated to him, but I cannot even think about him without imagining him standing across the field from Papa, shooting at him without discretion, fighting in the name of his father and his beliefs. With families that are so separate, how could we ever think of forming one together?
Why would the Lord have led me here and made my instincts about Bailey's advertisement so strong, if only to have this happen? I am so confused. I do not know what to think or where to step next. I pray for God to straighten my path, but fear that I am not hearing how He is leading me.
The worst part of all of this is that no matter how angry I feel, when I lay down to sleep each night, all I can think about is how much I miss Bailey.
Caroline
Chapter 12
"Help!"
The scream ripping through the late August air brought the same sick tightness to my stomach as the scream had the night on the wagon train when I helped the woman deliver her child. I jumped up from the chair where I had been sitting on the balcony of my hotel room and leaned over the railing to see what was happening.
Several wagons had pulled onto the main street and I watched a man jump down from the front bench of the first one and shout out for help again. He ran around to the back of the wagon and I saw him disappear into the opening in the canvas.
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