Sixteen Brides

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  “Well, that’s real nice of you,” Will replied, “and I’m sure that will mean a lot to Jeb, but you don’t need to worry. Frank Darby took the livestock. Jeb gave him a real good price, too.”

  “He sold them?”

  Will nodded. “Said that given Elizabeth’s health, he didn’t know when he’d be able to get back, so it seemed the best thing to do for the time being.”

  In mid-September Hettie decided that Zita and Ruth and God—although not in that order exactly—were right, and that while it was likely going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, it was time to talk with Forrest about the future. She rode into town with the ladies, walking to the clinic while the others shopped. When she opened the front door, a little bell rang. It made her jump.

  “I’ll be right out,” Forrest called from the back room. “Just have a seat.”

  Hettie sat on one of the oak chairs arranged along the wall in the waiting room, clasping her hands in her lap.

  “Hettie.” He smiled. “What brings you to town on a weekday?”

  “Sally ran out of thread. Both Caroline and Ruth seemed to think it was an emergency.” She smiled. “Although personally I think they both wanted an excuse to come to town. Caroline walked over to see the progress on our—on the house. Ruth’s up at the mercantile visiting with Martha Haywood.”

  “Caroline and Mr. Ransom seem to be…close,” he said.

  Hettie nodded. “Do you mind if I pull down the shade and put out the closed sign—just for a few minutes?”

  Forrest did it for her, then sat down in the chair next to hers.

  “Everyone is saying nice things about the new doctor. Nancy Darby seems to have finally been convinced that you are the one to attend her confinement…not me.”

  “Well, it’s nice to be trusted.”

  Hettie looked at him over the top of her glasses. She smoothed her palm over her abdomen. The baby kicked. “People always did think you had a nice manner. I’d forgotten that. I’d forgotten a lot of the good things. It all got buried under…the rest.”

  “I will never forgive myself for what I’ve put you through, Hettie. Never.”

  “No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t. That’s not why I’m here.” She cleared her throat. “If it was up to me, I would have run away and kept running. I’d still be running. But for whatever reason, I met up with those ladies on that train and I ended up here. In the middle of nowhere.” She took a deep breath. “I’m glad that happened. I’m glad I didn’t run farther. And…I finally think I’m glad you found me.”

  She gulped. “You keep saying that you want a chance to prove yourself. I think I’ve always wanted to give you that chance, but I’ve been afraid. Sometimes a person like me needs a little…kick—” She smiled as the baby responded appropriately. “A little kick to move them past the fear. I’m still afraid, but I’m being kicked.” She took her husband’s hand and pressed it to her abdomen. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, but I’ve only just begun to have to loosen things. I don’t suppose it’s really all that obvious. And you’ve never been all that observant about—” The baby kicked again.

  Forrest jerked his hand away, and a whole host of emotions passed across his face. The last one brought tears. He slid to the floor before her and buried his face in her lap and wept. She stroked his dark hair. She was still afraid. But she was also still in love.

  It was a beginning.

  Martha made quite a show of things. “A letter? For you? Well, now…let me see…” She pretended to search and then feigned surprise. “Well, would you look at that. There is a letter addressed to Mrs. Dow.”

  Ruth just shook her head and tucked it in her bag. Lucas was nothing if not creative. She’d only seen him once since he’d asked to call, but that didn’t mean she felt abandoned. Apparently he’d ridden into Plum Grove not long after bringing the cattle to Four Corners, and either the long hours in the saddle had addled his brain or he really was one of the most charming men she had ever known.

  It had begun on the first Saturday in August. I intend to call, although you may not see me as often as I hope we’d both like. We’re having to keep special watches out because of the danger of fire right now, and I can’t leave the boys and go hightailing it off on social calls. Please check with Martha every Saturday when you come to town. I’ve spent a long and very enjoyable day today planning a little something to keep you from forgetting me, but Martha knows to hold back so there’s one for every week. The first “something” is this note, and a request that you make sure to read this week’s edition of the Pioneer.

  It had taken Ruth a few minutes to find it, but amongst the columns of ads inviting people to buy six hemmed handkerchiefs for twenty-five cents at the Haywood Mercantile and subscribe to the Pioneer for two dollars a year, right below the mention of Graystone Ranch having shipped a carload of “the best beef in the nation” to markets in the east she saw a curious notice. It caught Ruth’s eye because of the line drawing of an elephant. All it said was Hannibal sends greetings to RD.

  The next Saturday, Lucas’s note directed Ruth across the street to the Portrait Gallery. Mr. Lucas Gray had left her a cabinet photo. He’d posed in a suit—Ruth didn’t know he owned one—and looked…wonderful. It wasn’t until she got back to Four Corners and took the photograph out by lamplight after everyone else had turned in that she noticed he’d scratched a note on the back. Hannibal says that someone is missing from this photo. I quite agree.

  After that, the notes grew longer. Wah Lo asked after Mrs. Gates today. Pete’s hoping for a chance to dance with Sally again before too long. The boys are already planning all kinds of devilment at Jackson’s expense during spring roundup next year. It means they like him, by the way. The danger of prairie fires remained high. Lucas said not to worry and ended with another reference to the stallion. Hannibal doesn’t seem nearly as concerned about the need for rain as the rest of us. He seems to be single-minded in his missing you.

  “Aren’t you going to read today’s?” Martha asked.

  Ruth started and blushed. She was getting a reputation for being distracted these days, and that would not do. “No. I thought I’d wait until…” She didn’t want to admit that she wanted to wait until she was alone. But that was it.

  “There’s a package, but you’re supposed to read the note first.” Martha smiled. “I’m doing my best not to be nosy, Ruth, but I don’t mind saying that as the weeks go by, it’s getting more and more difficult.”

  Ruth only smiled. She opened the letter. I hope you aren’t getting bored yet. When you read this I will likely be gone to the cedar canyons north of here cutting fence posts. We’ve renewed all the firebreaks, and I’d like to get more fence run before winter sets in.

  I don’t mind telling you that many of the neighbors are bemoaning the influx of homesteaders because of what it means in terms of losing open range. I also don’t mind telling you that I rather like the idea of homesteaders. Martha has a little gift. I hope you will take it in the spirit it is meant. I know it may shock you, but I beg you to consider. I wish I could see your face when Martha brings it out. I can almost hear you scolding me. I don’t mind. Hannibal offers no words of wisdom today. He turns away and sulks.

  He’d jotted a postscript. I imagine either Matthew or Jeb has explained how to make a fireguard, but just to be sure, I’m reminding you to see that it’s done. Try to keep a wagon loaded with empty barrels parked by the well and throw every empty feed sack you’ve got in the back with the barrels. We can talk more about such precautions the next time we’re together. About more than prairie fires, I hope.

  The idea that Lucas had gone to such lengths to arm them against fire made her feel at once valued…and afraid. When she asked Martha about Lucas’s concerns, the older woman explained. “It’s a danger every spring and every fall. We’re just one big field of wild grass out here, and when frost kills off the green and the roots dry out—” Martha cupped her hands together and pantomimed a sma
ll explosion.

  “How do they start?”

  “Lightning. Hunters. Indians, sometimes.” She leaned over and pointed to Lucas’s note. “But if you do what he says, you’ll be prepared.” She smiled. “I’m not saying the danger isn’t real. I’m saying there’s no reason to stay up nights worrying. It’s like anything else in life. We do what we can to prepare and then trust God.”

  She turned around and reached for a bolt of red cloth set apart from the others. “Now. As to Lucas’s gift.” She unfurled the cloth. “I told him you wouldn’t like it. He said to tell you that Hannibal would approve and so would he, although he thought Hannibal’s opinion might carry more weight with you. I have no idea what that means, but he seemed to think you’d find it amusing.”

  Martha waited for Ruth to explain. Instead, she just shook her head. If he were here this instant, she would be scolding him. But he’d just grin, and she had no ability to resist that grin. She’d ask Sally to make her something for the Harvest Festival. If Lucas showed up, then she’d show him.

  Ella had always thought hosting a Harvest Festival at Four Corners was a grand idea, and as time went on community enthusiasm built, and the event seemed to take on a life of its own. Caroline got Bill Toady to say he would come and play, and Bill said he’d do better than that and bring a seven-piece band. Of course, once the band was coming, it only made sense to borrow the Haywood Mercantile dance floor, and if they were hauling the dance floor out, Martha said they might as well put up an arbor, too, and she would decorate it in a harvest theme, and after all, wasn’t it a good idea to have the lanterns in the event the “harvest moon” went behind some clouds?

  When Jackson said something about that “feather-light white cake from the Plum Grove Dining Hall,” Caroline said she’d see to it that he had more than he could eat. And then Sally joked about a cake-eating contest and that turned into a pie-eating contest.

  Alice Bailey suggested an outdoor quilt show; the ladies could display their quilts draped over the sides of their wagons. When Caroline carried that suggestion home from town, Ruth mentioned that pumpkin orange was, after all, appropriate for the season.

  It was as if the wind carried the news, and before the ladies of Four Corners quite knew what had happened, they were hosting an event that was akin to a county fair, complete with a quilting bee to begin at noon and ending with a dance that would likely last most of the night.

  Wagonloads of neighbors began rolling in at midmorning on that clear September day, and by suppertime, not only had the ladies tied two comforters and quilted half of one of Caroline’s pieced quilt tops, Dr. Gates had been called upon to put four stitches along Jackson’s left cheek when he tried—and failed—to jump Sam over a fence. Ruth didn’t know whether to scold him or encourage him to try again. She opted for the latter and cheered louder than anyone when Sam sailed over the fence successfully.

  When the wranglers from Graystone Ranch began to arrive, it was only natural that someone had to earn bragging rights about having the fastest horse in the county, and so a race course was set up from the cottonwood tree up to the section line, across Cross Creek, and back again, the winning rider to be awarded a dance with the lady of his choice. When Sally Grant called out, “And it had better be me,” everyone laughed.

  Lucas Gray didn’t race, even though everyone knew that if he did, that flashy chestnut gelding of his would win. Every time Ella saw him, Gray was either talking to Jackson or laughing with Ruth—who’d shocked everyone by wearing a new red dress for the event. She looked ten years younger in it. In fact, Ruth was looking younger in general these days. Mostly because she was smiling more, Ella thought. Mama said it was more than that, that Ruth was falling in love again.

  All in all, Ella had a wonderful day. She moved from one group to the next, welcoming people onto the place and answering more questions than she cared to about the “night you all hog-tied two desperadoes in the kitchen.” She loved watching Mama flit around and retell her version of “the desperado story,” and she didn’t even mind the idea of hosting a dance, because Jeb wouldn’t be there to not dance with her.

  Everything was grand until, along about sunset, Jeb Cooper’s wagon appeared coming over the rise, and there she was. Elizabeth. She looked more like a queen than a homesteader’s wife. The closer the wagon got, and the more Ella could see of the woman’s elegant green traveling suit complete with matching parasol, the more Ella’s head hurt. When Jeb reached up and, with a loving smile and a little laugh, lifted Elizabeth to the earth, Ella decided the headache was just too much. She must lie down and rest.

  Thank goodness the community’s babies were sleeping in the opposite end of the house. When she slipped into her bedroom and lay down, no one was the wiser. Until someone came in the back door. Footsteps hurried across the floor and paused at the open door to her room. Ella closed her eyes.

  “Ella! What do you think you are doing?! Jeb Cooper’s back. He’s asking for you.”

  “I’m resting, Mama. I have a headache.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t get headaches.”

  “Well, I have one tonight. Please, Mama. Go back to the party. Offer Jeb and his wife my congratulations and tell him I’ll see them in church on Sunday.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mama came to stand at her bedside.

  “Elizabeth. Mrs. Cooper. I’ll meet her on Sunday.”

  “You aren’t making any sense.”

  Ella sat up. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, Mama. I’ve known Jeb was going to get married since we delivered that fancy letter and that book of poems weeks ago. So—”

  “Jeb Cooper is not married.” Mama put her hands on her hips. “I declare, Ella, sometimes you are as dumb as a board when it comes to men.”

  “Mama! I saw her. Elizabeth. Sitting beside him.”

  “Well, of course you did.” Mama sighed. “Now, get up and get outside. Jeb’s asking for you. He wants his sister to meet you.”

  Elizabeth Jorgenson née Cooper was nearly as tall as her brother. She was, Ella decided, probably the most intelligent woman on the earth, but she also appeared to be one of the nicest. It took no time at all for the Four Corners ladies to invite Elizabeth for lunch on Sunday, and Elizabeth didn’t wasn’t any time in retrieving a blanket out of the wagon bed of her brother’s wagon and thrusting it into his arms with a meaningful nod in Ella’s direction.

  Jeb smoothed the blanket over his arm and came to Ella. “Can we…talk?”

  He led her up the rise away from the house. When they turned around, Ella was struck by how beautiful she thought her place looked tonight. Thank you, God.

  “I missed you,” Jeb said.

  “And we missed you. I don’t mind telling you I was a little hurt that you didn’t ask me to mind the livestock. That’s what neighbors are for, you know. They watch out for each other. You didn’t have to sell them.”

  “Actually, it makes things simpler.” He spread the blanket and asked her to sit with him. Ella sat. Jeb talked. Her mouth fell open more than once. She could not picture Jeb Cooper in a fancy house. “I didn’t fit at home with all the professors,” he said, “because I like to be outside working with my hands. And I’ll never quite fit out here because I don’t really want to be a homesteader, at least not in the conventional sense.” He chuckled. “I like to read too much.” He shrugged. “I’m a misfit.”

  Just like me.

  He shifted on the blanket so he could see her face in the moonlight. “I like you, Ella, and I’d like to be your friend. And friends deserve explanations. I’m sorry I haven’t done a better job of that. I honestly didn’t think—I never meant to hurt you. I should have explained more.”

  “I thought you’d gone east to get married. I thought Elizabeth was your wife.”

  Jeb began to chuckle, and then he laughed. “You thought I was getting a woman? In the East?” He shook his head. “Why would I want to do that when I already live right by one of the best
women on the earth?”

  Ella had nothing to say. Nothing at all. But even as her heart pounded, her eyes looked over at what she and her friends had created from empty prairie, and she didn’t think she could give it up. If that was where Jeb was headed…what would she do? What would she say? There was still so much to do, and it wasn’t about the fence or the buildings or the livestock or the crops nearly as much as it was about Ella Barton knowing. Knowing that what she’d been saying all along was true. She didn’t need a man. Oh, she might want one. But she didn’t need one.

  “So.” Jeb spoke again. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking.” He nodded toward the homestead. “You have a dream down there. And you have a nightmare to forget. I don’t want to stand in the way of either one of those things taking their natural course.” He looked her way, the moonlight showing enough for her to tell he was smiling. “But I do want to be here when you decide you’re ready for a new dream. Would you be all right with that?”

  Ella felt a tear slip out of the corner of one eye and slide down her cheek. It must have glistened in the moonlight. Jeb reached up and wiped it away with a calloused thumb. She caught his hand and held it next to her face so he could feel her nod. “Yes,” she said. “Oh…yes.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten….

  JOEL 2:25

  The next morning, the ladies of Four Corners stood in a row between the soddy’s front door and the buggy. Someone joked about Hettie’s “running the gauntlet” as she made her way down the row, hugging each of them from Ella to Zita, past Sally and Jackson, and then finally to the carriage, where Ruth and Caroline waited to drive her into town. She hugged them all once…and then again…and then everyone laughed. Nervous laughter. Laughter laced with tears. The kind of laughter that said, We are so proud of you…we want you to be happy…we’re hoping on hope ever.